THE YANCEY RECORD, WEDNESDAY, JUNE 2, 1937
BEAUTYS
DAUGHTER
B4
Kathleen Norris
Victoria Herrendeen, a vivacious little
girl, had been too young to feel the
shock that came when her father. Keith
Herrendeen, lost his fortune. A gentle,
unobtrusive soul, he is now employed
as an obscure chemist in San Fran
cisco, at a meager salary. His wife,
Magda, cannot adjust herself to the
change. She is a beautiful woman, fond
of pleasure and a magnet for men’s
attention. Magda and Victoria have been
down at a summer resort and Keith
joins them for the week-end. Magda
leaves for a bridge party, excusing her
self for being such a "runaway.” Later
that night Victoria is grief-stricken when
she hears her parents quarreling. The
Herrendeens return to their small San
Francisco apartment. Keith does not
approve of Magda’s mad social life and
they quarrel frequently. Magda receives
flowers and a diamond from Ferdy Man
ners, a wealthy man from Argentina
whom she had met less than a week
before. Manners arrives a few hours
later. Magda takes Victoria to Nevada
to visit a woman friend who has a
daughter named Catherine. There she
tells her she is going to get a divorce.
Victoria soon is in boarding school with
her friend Catherine. Magda marries
Manners and they spend two years in
Argentina. Victoria has studied in Eu
rope and at eighteen she visits her
mother when Ferdy rents a beautiful
home. Magda is unhappy over Ferdy’s
drinking and attentions to other women.
Vic dislikes him. but for her mother’s
sake is nice to him. When her mother
and stepfather return to South America,
Victoria refuses to go with them because
of Ferdy’s unwelcome attentions to
her. Magda returns and tells Vic she
and Ferdy have separated. Meanwhile
Keith has remarried. Victoria is now
a student nurse. Magda has fallen in
love with Lucius Farmer, a married
artist. While she and Vic prepare for
a trip to Europe. Ferdy takes a suite
in their hotel.
CHAPTER IV—Continued
She was silent, staring into space
with narrowed, somber eyes that
were reddened with tears.
"Mummy, I have to r«nind you
that Ferdy’s coming up today. He
has tickets and_things, he said.”
Vic yawned, seeing a clock’s hands
at seven. "Maybe she’s taking a
bath.”
The bathroom was empty, too.
Perhaps Mother was going to
have one last dinner with her Lu
cius. Perhaps she had left a note
somewhere; it might be in her
rooms.
Victoria went in there, lighted
lights. She saw the note on the
dressing table, a large square note
addressed to "Vic.” And even be
fore her eyes reached its first words
"My darling darling, you must for
give me . . somehow she knew.
"I never thought of this!” she
whispered aloud, in the tumbled
desolation that seemed now like a
deserted battlefield, like an ocean
after a wreck.
Her glance went on. She saw the
word "Taniti,” the word "Malolo,”
the words “snatch our few years of
heaven . . .”
Victoria went to the balcony and
sat down in a green iron chair. Her
legs had failed under her; she felt
cold, but her face was burning. One
trembling hand clung tight to the
note; in the empty hotel rooms be
hind her the lights shone brightly
over the packed handsome trunks,
with their bands of white and blue.
Coming into the diet kitchen at
six o’clock on a summer morning.
Florence Flood Dickenson discov
ered it empty, except for a solitary
figure at the end of the long table-
The girl raised her head and
showed a weary face that was yet
keen with sensitiveness and sympa
thy and lighted with a tired smile.
"Hello, Dicky,” she said, in a
hoarse sweet voice.
"Oh, is it you, Herrendeen?” Miss
Dickenson asked, "Have a nice
vacation?”
"Marvelous. How’s everything
gone?”
"Oh, beautifully. We missed you,
of^purse, but everything’s gone
down to Burlingame—and that I
felt terribly . . .” Magda was rum
maging about in a bureau drawer;
she spoke absently. "Today and to
morrow are our last days,” she
said. And presently she gave Vicky
an absent-minded kiss and was
gone.
It was five o’clock when Victoria
got home; Magda had evidently pre
ceded her by only a few minutes
and was lying flat on her bed-
"Vic, we had a very serious talk
this morning, you poor chicken, and
I’ve been thinking about you all
day.” Magda said, her eyes rounded
over her teacup. "I’ll teD. you
what’s happened, and what we de
cided. We’re not children, this isn't
a first affair, and there are a great
many other persons to consider.
So . . . So—the upshot of it all is,
Vic, that you and I sail on Satur
day, and that it’s all over!”.
Magda was a little subdued and
pale in the morning, but showed
no other signs of her recent emo
tion; the day was exciting with final
purchases, much talk of ward
robes and plans.
Vic wandered out to the balcony,
looked down at the waterfront over
which the mist was softly closing.
Through the cold dusk the fog horns
were steadily sounding.
"Horrible weather to go through
the Gate.”
"What makes you say that?”
Magda asked, looking up from her
letter.
"Heavy fog. You can’t see the
^onalei. Maybe that’s she, going
along now. I hope Ferdy made
her!”
"They’d wait for Ferdy. They
may not even sail. What is this,
darling—the eighteenth?”
“Tomorrow’s the twentieth.”
"Of course!” Magda reached for
the trilling telephone. “Tell Mr.
Farmer to come up,” she said im
mediately. And then to Vic, “I’m
going out with him for just a little
while.”
"Call me if I’m asleep when you
get back!” Vic answered, going to
ward her room. She heard Lucius’
voice a few moments later; her
mother’s voice. "One more day of
this,” she said to herself-
Vic awakened with a start, with
a sense of something wrong. The
telephone was ringing, and someone
was knocking at the door. The
room was filled with dusk and fear
and confusion.
At the door it was Otto, with the
dinner card. On the telephone was
Mollie Jervis, saying good-by. Vic
toria answered both claims; ordered
oyster stew and brown toast and
meringues; snapped up lights. But
she still felt frightened and bewil
dered; her forehead sticky with per
spiration; her throat thick.
"Goodness, what horrible
dreams!” She went to her mother’s
door, saw only dusk and confusion
and emptiness within. "She’s late,”
trays. A boy put instead in the
door, said. "Miss Rockwood?” and
vanished. The hospital day had be
gun.
‘Vicky, tell me, do you like Dr.
Hardisty?” Louise Mary Keating
asked interestedly, a few days later.
"Very much,” Vicky said ab
stractedly.
“Vicky, I’ll bet you’re in love
with him! They say every woman
he meets is in love with him.” Miss
Keating bit into a chocolate; looked
at its filling thoughtfully. "I oughtn’t
to touch these,” she said.
‘I’ll bet Vic hates to give up the
Keats kid,” Helen Geer observed,
watching her. “You won’t see Dr.
Hardisty any more now after to
night, Vic.”
"Well, as a matter of fact, I will,”
Vicky said, beginning to smear her
face with cold cream, after tying a
towel over her tawny hair. "When
little Kate Keats goes home I go
with her. I’ve been there before,
you know, and Mrs. Keats asked me
yesterday to come back. Her
mother isn’t very well, and if she
goes away with the doctor she al
ways leaves a nurse with the chil
dren.”
'And then will you see Dr. Har
disty every day. Vic?”
‘Not every day. But they’re great
friends. A lot of good it will do me
to fall in love with Quentin Har
disty,” Victoria went on practically.
"He doesn’t know I exist.”
The Keats home stood out on Pa
cific avenue with the long lines of
the Presidio eucalyptus trees and
the Golden Gate below the drawing
room’s northeast windows, and a
sweeping view of the bay and the
mountains that framed the bay from
the upper floors.
Victoria liked the atmosphere of
the house; she said it reminded her
of a book.
Victoria, who had gone to them
from the hospital as Kate’s nurse,
had been kept on after Kate’s re
covery because of Duna’s scarlet
fever, and after that because of
the feeble age of Mrs. Chauncey
Clements, the children’s English
grandmother. Gently, agreeably,
without any unpleasantness, Granny
was dying. Victoria had a small
room next to the old woman’s lux
urious one on the first bedroom
floor, and the easy task of watching
her dignified departure from a life
in which she had behaved for eighty
years with admirable decorum.
Violet Keats was in her early for
ties; her husband perhaps ten years
older. She adored the small, blink
ing man with his fluffy gray mop
“as only an English gentlewoman
cc.n adore a man,” Vic told Cath
erine,
"We’re dining alone, Victoria, you
and I,” Mrs. Keats said one day,
in her crisp, brisk way. "I want to
talk to you!”
It was when they were seated at
the little table downstairs an hour
later that she made a first attack
upon Victoria’s confidence. "You’re
so perfectly charming with the chil
dren that I shan’t feel quite happy
until you’re in a fair way to have a
few of your own,” she said.
'Not I!” Vie smiled, shaking her
head.
"You don't mean that. No girl
means that!”
“Most girls don’t, I daresay. But
I do. I’ve had a queer education
along those lines,” Victoria added,
half to herself.
"You mean your mother’s life?”
"Not only Mother. But all her
crowd, all women who make love,
passion, so important, who persuade
you, or almost persuade you, that
it is right to go wherever your heart
goes. It’s all so artless.”
“You ought to set your cap for
Quentin, Vic. He’s as completely
disillusioned as you are.”
"Dr. Hardisty?”
"Certainly he is. In his heart he
despises women. He thinks—Johnny
tells me that he thinks that they’re
ail alike—weak and selfish and
ready to break up anything or any
body’s life for a little pleasure.”
"Did he tell Dr. Keats that?”
"That’s the impression he always
gives.”
"That amazes me,” Victoria said,
“because if ever any man had his
way with women it is Dr. Quentin
Hardisty!”
"Yes, but it doesn’t mean any
thing, Vic.”
"You knew his first wife?”
"Very well. I’d left her—or
rather she’d left me downtown
about ten minutes before she was
killed. She was driving her own
car—she drove like a crazy woman,
everything she did was wild, and
she had this crash. They got her
to the hospital and poor little Gwen
was born an hour later. Quentin’s
wife was a terrible girl—rich and
spoiled and—oh, I don’t know,
flighty. He’s never been very hap
py, poor boy!—There’s Johnny at
the door now, Vicky,” she broke off
to say. “Ah, and Quentin with him—
come in both of you—are you froz
en, have you had anything to eat?”
"We’re starving!” Dr. Hardisty,
shedding outer garments in the hall,
said in his deep voice. “Vicky’U go
get us some eggs, won’t you,
Vicky?”
“Better than that.” Victoria said.
"We’ve put it aside—we expected
this.”
She went away and presently,
when a maid had preceded her with
a card table and silver and glasses,
returned with a laden tray.
"You looked very charming with
that baby in your arms,” he said
abruptly. Victoria and he were
alone now; the men had had their
supper; had burned down
•'You think so?"^ fit* lifked, her
face red.
"I do.” Quite suddenly, quite pim
ply his arm was about her and, for
the first time in her life, a fnan
kissed her on the lips. "There!”
he said and laughed. In another in
stant he was gone.
"Seriously, and all this teasing
aside, would you come over to the
shack for Saturday and Sunday?”
he asked her a few weeks later.
Instantly she knew now that she
ought to say no. But the tempta
tion to yield was strong. For, af>er
all, his was the most fascinating and
popular figure in San Francisco’s
social circle at the time, and week
end invitations to the shabby little
cabin in Mill Valley were eagerly
sought.
Mill Valley would be thrilling!
After all, Quentin had shown that
he regretted his craziness, and
when he was In one of his nice,
simple moods she liked him quite as
much as she detested him in his
other ones.
All this flashed through her mind
as she hesitated over the invitation,
smiling.
“You said I would, you know, and
I will!” she told him, simply.
"And I think you are a sport!”
he answered, in his pleasantest
manner. “It’U be rough, you
know.”
“I can be very rough. Only I
don’t go in for cocktails and staying
up dancing to the radio until morn
ing,” she began.
"Nothing like that. ‘Rough’ means
that I have only one Chinese boy
there and he doesn’t know much
about cooking, and that the chief
entertainment will be a long climb
up the mountain on Sunday.”
“And can the beautiful Mrs. Pool
go in for afi^jlwit?”
"The beautiful Mrs. Pool will not
be there. This will be a very sim
ple party. Just four of us.”
"It sounds good. Who’s going
along to protect my youth and in
nocence?” Victoria smiled.
"Do you think Chase and Dora
Upham mig|\ manage it?”
"They
"I’ll pick you up at four o’clock
on Saturday, then. Bring comfort
able shoes.”
At four o’clock Saturday tliey
drove to the ferry and were car
ried, motorcar and all, across the
flowing gray waters of the bay.
There was fog on the bay, and
Tamalpais was wreathed in fog;
but down ini the valley a misty sun
light was shining.
Up through a shady tamel of red
woods the winding road rose above
the Cascades, and mounted the great
stony flank of the momtain. On a
w^st-
Vic Awakened With a Start, With
a Sense of Something Wrong.
low during the weary, comfortable
talk that had followed, and presently
a ringing telephone had taken the
doctor to his study, and Mrs. Keats,
murmuring something like, "Oh,
dear, I must tell him—” had fol
lowed him.
He had seen her with Bunty in
her arms, had he? The unexpected
blood rose to Vic’s face.
"Any man would be glad to come
home and find such a scene at
night,” the man said.
"Well, would he?” Vicky coun
tered. "Violet and I have just been
having an argument about it. I
say that nurseries and Nanas and
hearth fires have all gone out of
fashion. That isn’t what men want,
any more!”
"Only proving that you don’t
know anything about men,” the doc
tor said. "I didn’t think you did!”
"Most men would much rather
have wives who are curled and
dressed and painted and read;' to go
out at night,” Victoria persisted,
annoyed in spite of herself by his
lazy air of complacency, and warm
ing to her subject. "Men aren’t
crazy about Violet, because she
lives for her husband and the chil
dren.”
"You may be a little bit cracked
on the subject of love and mar
riage,” Dr. HaJ-disty said. “But
you’re .amusing.”
"Do you think I’m a little bit
cracked on the subject of love and
marriage?” Victoria demanded in
surprise. "There are plenty of
bachelors about. Is it so extraordi
nary that now and then a woman
likes to play a lone hand? I have
my work, my friends—everything I
want. Why should I add to it all a
man I don’t want?”
"Because in your heart you know
.that you do want • man!”
stood,
deep in pii
aromatic wi
scent. Des 1
the girl adm
pulse
[ut it was
needles; the air was
th their sweet, sharp
ending from the car,
itted that her first im-
give a long, Idud
scream of pu re delight.
BAPTEB V
coat of blue,
?ers and pa
carrying the
Vic and the
main room
the entire ci
At both si
wide alcove;
blue canvas
A lean Ch Lnese boy in * cofiHe
with dingy white trcu-
ided rope shoes, was
provisions out of sight-
: nan went into the big,
liat constituted almost
3in.
ies of it were raised
with windows; thick
curtains could shut
them off fronfi the main room. Each
of these contained three beds,
chests, chairs; opening from each
was a large ^ shower bath casually
constructed j'f brown planks, with
redwood fronds pushing their way
in between the walls and the roof.
In the main room were rugs, big
chairs, tables from which bocks and
magazines cascaded, an enormous
fireplace smoked high from many
a roaring blaze, lamps, cushions off
a deep davenport; all of the com
fortable, informal litter dear to thr
bachelor heart. Window doors
opened on a flagged terrace behind
which the magnificent crest of th«
mountain reared against the softly
encroaching fog.
■‘We have our meals out here on
the terrace all summer,” the doctof-
said. "But it’s going to be too cold
tonight. Mock Suey!” he shouted
suddenly. The Chinese fdlently pad
ded into sight. “Eat by fire ta'
night?”
“Eat tellis?” the boy asked hope-
fu’Jy.
"No. Too muchee catchem col«
te-lis. Eat fire.”
“Fi-ah,” the Oriental conceded in
a ■sad. liquid voice. The boy melted
a^ay.
Victoria began to wander when
tht Uphams would arrive.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Two Things Certain
Benjamin Franklin is credited
wWi being the first to make the
statement that only two things are
certain—death and taxes. Franklin
mentioned this certainty in a letter
to his friend, M. Leroy of the
French Academy of Sciences, in
1799. He stated: “Our Constitu
tion is in actual operation. Every
thing appears to promise that it
will last; but in this world nothing
is certain but death and taxes.”
Whether the expression was orig
inal with Franklin is unknown but
it was natural for him to contrast
the uncertainties of the newly adopt
ed Constitution with these two cer
tainties. Charles Dickens in his
"David Copperfield,” written 60
years later, has Barkis say: “It
was as true as taxes is. Ji.Qd noth
ing’s truer than them.”
Improved (1 SUNDAY
International 11 SCHOOL
LESSON -:-
By REV. HAROLD L. LUNDQUIST.
Dean of the Moody Bible Institute
of Chicago.
© Western Newspaper Union.
Lesson for June 6
JOSEPH’S READINESS FOR
SERVICE
LESSON TEXT—Genesis 41:33-44.
GOLDEN TEXT—Seest thou a man
diligent in his business? he shall stand
before kings. Proverbs 22:39.
PRIMARY TOPIC—Joseph’s Errand.
JUNIOR TOPIC—Joseph Goes Before
the King.
INTERMEDIATE AND SENIOR TOP
IC—Ready to Serve.
YOUNG PEOPLE AND ADULT TOP
IC—Preparation for Public Service.
Public service—^that position of
opportunity and responsibility—
merits far better treatment than is
commonly accorded to it, for we
know only too well how often it is
nothing but a political football car
ried hither and yon as the dictates
of partisan purposes' may indicate.
Scripture holds a very exalted
view of the public servant. Paul
tells us to "be subject unto the high
er powers. For there is no power
but of God: the powers that be are
ordained of God” (Rom. 13:1). The
Bible clearly teaches that every
governmental agency and every
public servant from the policeman
on the beat to the President in the
White House, is only permitted to
exercise authority over his fellow-
men because God has ordained that
there should be such government.
Clear it is that every right-thinking
official of state and nation should
be humble, teachable, discreet, and
wise in the exercise of his power,
and God-fearing in the discb'*rge of
his resjonsibility.
Joseih, the one in the procession
of the patriarchs of Genesis who
passes before us in the lesson to
day is Jiteresting from many angles.
His personal history is charmingly
writbm and a model of appealing
biography. He is a marvelous type
of Christ, and one could devote
houvs to such a study of his life.
But our lesson subject presents him
as one ready for public service, and
wf may well profit by the lesson.
Hr» is an example of what men
who serve their country should be.
I. Before God—Humble and
Teachable (vv. 33-36).
The background of our lesson Is
foimd in the four preceding chap
ters. Joseph, the boy with dreams
and aspirations, has learned obe-
humil^y, purity, and many
‘ "le hard
of- ekpSPlfillceT^ i»uas wtj
been' said that the tyition of that
school is high, but the lessons are
well learned.
Now he stands before the king to
interpret a double dream, sent as a
warning to the nation. The wise
men who knew not the true God
had vainly sought to answer the
king’s questions. Joseph sets them
and us an example—^he receives in
structions and guidance from God,
and speaks wise words because
taught of him. Would that all those
who stand as counsellors before
kings and presidents in our day
would listen for the voice of God be
fore they speak.
II. Believe Men—Spiritual, Dis
creet, and Wise (w. 37-39).
Pharaoh recognized that the Spir
it of God was in Joseph. That is a
great testimony for Joseph, and at
the same time it reflects credit upon
the king. Who can say what would
be the result if our government of
ficials were chosen for their spir
ituality?
Spirituality is not the only quali
fication, however, for such service.
The Christian who expects men to
favor him because he is a Christian,
even though he be careless and in
competent, finds no comfort in the
study of Joseph. He was discreet
and wise. The follower of Christ
should distinguish himself by dili
gent and intelligent application of
all his powers to his work. Then
men will honor both him and his
God.
HI. In Service—Responsible and
Powerful (vv. 40-44).
He who had humbled himself xm-
der the mighty hand of God was ex
alted in due time. (See I Peter 5:6.)
Joseph was willing to abide god’s
time, and did not run ahead of him
as did his father, Jacob.
The record shows that he used his
place of honor and privilege to per
form a difficult and arduous task
and to do it well. Right-spirited
men do not glory in position or pow
er, but use the opportunity to give
themselves in sacrificial service to
God and their fellow-men. Some
one has aptly said that a politician
is one who has his eye on the next
election while a statesman has his
eye on the next generation and its
welfare. God give us more states
men!
A Strong Arm
Give me the pure heart, O Lord,
to feel Thy presence near me. Give
me the clear mind that understands.
Give me the stainless soul that shall
return to Thee fearless when my
time shall come. And give me
strong arm to defend, with all my
heart, with all my mind, with all
my soul, the glory of Thy kingdom.
Advantages of Tact
Without tact you can learn noth
ing. Tact reaches you when to be
silent. Inquirers who are always in
quiring never learn anything.—Dis-
raeU.
Dressed for the Occasion
“LJI THERE, Mrs. Astorbilt,
* -*■ where are you going in that
lovely summer gown?”
"Not very far, Miss Junior Deb,
just down to the store to buy ma
terial for a play suit like yours.”
Well, Ma-mah, if you must copy
my style, you couldn’t find a bet
ter model because these shorts
really fit, and the whole thing is
tailored job.”
A Stylist Speaks.
"May I as Susie Sew-Your-Own
interrupt you two with the latest
word from my class in dress de
sign? You, Sis, are a pre-vue
of Miss America in proper sports
wear while Ma-mah is modern to
the minute with her raised waist
line and fulled bodice. I, in this
morning frock, have what the
book calls classic simplicity. Be
that as it may, I couldn’t get
along without it, because it's so
cool and comfortable.”
Everybody’s Happy.
‘Thanks for the approval, Su
sie. Your clever dress would be
ight spot in anybody’s kitchen,
be no stopping you. But even so, I
must admit I’m a prodd mother.
You can go just as far as you
like with this new hobby.”
Gee, Ma-mah, isn’t it swell to
be on such friendly terms 'with
Fashion? I think good old Sew-
Your-Own deserves most of the
credit for arranging the introduc
tion. Spring means so much more
when one’s clothes look the part.”
"You’re quite right, dear, but
now let’s run along. We have work
to do.”
The Patterns.
Pattern 1270 comes in sizes 14
to 20 (32 to 42 bust.) Size 16 re
quires 5% yards of 39 inch ma
terial.
Pattern 1272 is designed for
sizes 14 to 20 (32 to 42 bust). Size
16 requires 4% yards of 39 inch
material. 2% yards of ribbon are
required for the tie belt.
Pattern 1304 is for sizes 34 to
46. Size 36 requires 3% yard's of
35 inch material plus % yard con
trasting.
Send your order to The Sewing
Circle Pattern Dept., Room 1020,
211 W. Wacker Dr,, Chicago, Ill.
Price of patterns, 15 cents (in
coins) each.
© Bell Syndlcafie.—WNU Servic*.
* * * *
DOUBLE-FRUIT
SHORTCAKE
Mrs. L A. Norwood, ChasoCiiy, Va.
Mix and sift 2 cups flour, 4 tsps.
baking powder, }4 tsp. salt, 1 tbsp.
sugar together. Cut in }4 cup Jewel
Special-Blend Shortening. Add 1
egg, beaten, and ^ cup milk and
mix until soft dough is formed. Bake
in hot oven (450‘'F.) in two layers.
Fill and top with 3 cups strawber
ries, 1 cup crushed pineapple (or
sliced bananas), 1 cup sugar. Top
with whipped cream. Adv.
Uncle l^lul
Stuj/i:
Beyond Their Power—
Our ancestors wrote wise rules
for posterity, but could not pro
vide a posterity wise enough to
heed them.
A beautiful theory in govern
ment goes down before the onset
of human nature. Study men first,
then make the laws for them.
Good society generally is good.
Don’t let the sneering outsiders
fool you.
In the School of Experience—
Every day is the pupil of the
day that has gone before it.
Some people we like, some we
don’t; but the most joyous tri
umph in life is to find that we like
those we thought we didn’t.
Any friend of yours "who is
worth his weight in gold,” as you
express it, is worth more than
that.
H a FOR CUTS
mmim
SNOW WHITE PETROLEUM JELLY
The Best Serves
Choose that w'hich is best and
custom will make it most agree
able.—Scott.
Constipated
30 Years
"Foi- thirty years 1 had stubborn
constipation. Sometimes I did not go
for four or five days, i also had awful
Oas bloating, headaches and panns in
the back. Adlefika helped right away.
Now I eat sausage, bananas, pie, any
thing 1 want and never felt better. I
sleep soundly all night and enjoy life.”
—Mrs. Mabel Schott.
If you are suffering from constipation,
sleeplessness, sour stomach, and gas
bloating, there is quick relief for you
in Adlerika, Many report action In
thirty minutes after taking just ons
dose. Adlerika gives complete action,
cleaning your bowel tract where ordii
nary laxatives do not even re'ach.
Dr. H. 1. Shoub, Nate Vorfe, raportst
“In addition to intestinal eleOnsfng, Adlerika
cheeks the growth oj intestinal bacteria and
colon bocx/li."
Give your bowels a real cleansing
with Adlerika and see how good you
feel. Just one spoonful relieves GAS
and stubborn constipation. At all
Leading Druggists.
Heart’s Silence
Not all the lip can speak is
worth the silence of the heart.—
Adams.
for WOMEN only
CARDUI Is a special medicine for
the relief of some of the suffering
which results from a woman’s weak
ened condition. It has been found
to make monthly periods less dis
agreeable, and, when its use has been
kept up awhile, has helped many
poorly nourished women to get more
strength from their food. This medi
cine (pronounced "Oard-u-i”) has
been used and recommended by
women for many, many years. Find
out whether It will help you by
giving it a fair trial. Of course, If
not benefited, consult a physician.
THE cmFUL cm
T K^.d good times
when I w^L3 sm'b.ll.
I like the child 1
used to he.
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keep pilintf up
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