Democratic watchman. (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1855-1940, November 25, 1921, Image 2

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Cousin Percy's Little Joke.
Y suppose every one has had the ev-
perience of waking in the middle or
the night to find everything perfectly
still and quiet and normal, and yet
with the impression persisting that
there had been a tremendous crash of
some sort just before the waking
genses were alive enough to realize it.
It was some such razing jolt as this
that was given me on the morning
when 1 was called in, with the other
members of the family, to listen to tne
reading of my grandfather’s will.
But, first, however, to give some
idea of the conditions precedent, as a
lawyer would say. My father—good,
easy-going, comfort-loving Dad!—
never owned what Grandfather Dud-
ley, pursing his thin lips and snapping
the words out, called “the money
sense.” As an architect high in his
profession and with fine artistic feel-
ing for the beautiful in buildings, he
etrned a liberal income—and spent it;
or 80 much of it that there was barely
enough left after his death to provide
for my mother and sister, and to keep
me going, as you might say, in an ex-
ceedingly modest manner. Without
work, I mean. I may as well confess,
at once, that I had never acquired the
work habit. I was always “going to,”
but it was so fatally easy to keep on
postponing the chilling plunge. I sup-
pose I had been ready on at least half
a dozen occasions to take a dive into
some pool with a salary attachment;
but always some good friend would
bob up to say, “Oh, come on, Stannie,
old man; we're lacking just one more
to make up the bunch. Don’t be a
clam. Time enough to settle down
when you have to,” and then it would
%2 all off.
Besides, you see, there was always
Grandfather Jasper in the background.
He had money—Ilashings of it, so we
all believed; and it had been a family
understanding for years that he in-
tended splitting the bulk of it, fifty-
fifty, between my cousin Percy and
me. Before we go any farther, let mé’
set it down that Cousin Percy was— |!
and is—all the seventeen different
kinds of things that I am not, and
. be more than likely to find the three |
never wished to be; smooth, neat, well- |
groomed, a “grind” in college and a '
“perfect dear” with the girls, am-
bitious as the very devil, and measur-
ing his friends by the amount of “pull”
they might be able to exert in his be-
half; there you have him from the
crown of his well-brushed little head
to his patent-leather pumps.
“You're a fright, Stannie,” he would
say, in his carefully polished diplo-
matic manner—he had a billet in the
Department of State at Washington, |
and was in training for the legation
service abroad—*you are a perfect
fright. Three whole years out of col-
lege, and you haven’t done a single,
solitary useful thing yet. When are
you going to begin? And, incidental-
ly, how long are you going to keep
Lisette waiting?”
Oh, Lord !—right there was another
knot in the tangle—Lisette.
agreed to agree—Lisette and I—some
six months or so in advance of Grand-
father Jasper’s death, and we were
both perfectly well assured, and had
assured each other a dozen times, that
my income from Dad’s estate wasn’t
more than half big enough to marry
on. You see, it was this way: Lisette
was one of a family of four girls in a
mighty expensive household, and there
wasn’t anything to lean on on that
side of the fence. Though, of course.
we never discussed it brutally in so
many words, we were waiting for that
fifty-fifty look-in at the will which fam-
ily tradition declared had already been
drawn up, signed, sealed, witnessed
and put away In cold storage; other-
wise in the safe-keeping of Grandfa-
ther Jasper's family fawyer.
All of which may serve to bring us
back to that nightmare effect regis-
tered at the start. When the Dudley
will was taken out of the icebox and
read to the assembled members of the
family, there were at least two shock-
ing surprises. Jasper hadn’t been any-
where near as rich as we had all been
thinking he was; that his modest
manner of living had been, perhaps, as
much a matter of necessity as of
choice. Bad investments—of which
the family had never heard so much
as a whisper—had cut his fortune
down to something less than half a
million, all told. That was shock
Number One; and shogk Number Two
was strictly personal to me: Grand-
father Jasper had left me his love and
best wishes, and had willed the money
and property—all of it, mind you—to
Cousin Percy, giving as his reason
that he thought Percy would make
better use of it.
Of course, I had everybody's sympa-
thy and condolence—even Percy's, for
that matter. My mother wept; and,
as I recall it, Lisette managed to com-
pass a tear or so when I told her what
had happened; or rather what had so
ignominiously failed to happen.
We had |
—se Et
“Whatever will you do?” she fal-
tered. “I suppose you will really have
to go to work now, won't you, Stan-
“Perish the thought!” 1 told her;
then I gave the good reasons why
there was no hope for us in that di-
rection. “A fat chance I'd have to
earn any real money. I can navigate
a yvacht—a little,—drive a motor, ride
a polo pony, and play a fair hand at
bridge and the other great American
game. 1 think these are the sum total
of my shining accomplishments.
You needn't return the ring” 1
grinned, seeing that she was looking
at it rather regretfully. “You can wear
it on some other finger, you know.”
“Yes; I suppose I could do that,”
she agreed; and I'm blest if she didn’t
shift it to a finger of the other hand
right there and then!
It was less than a week after this
little fade-out scene with Lisette that
Percy's letter came. This is what it
“Dear Stannie:
“I know just about how you felt
last week when you heard Grandfa-
ther Jasper’s will read, and it isn’t
going to make you feel any better now
when I tell you that I knew of its pro-
visions more than a year ago. When
the will was drawn, grandfather
id Ur
= 4
showed it to me, and gave me a sealed !
envelope, which I was to open after |
his death. That envelope, as I knew
at the time, contained, among other !
By its
provisions you are to receive a legacy !
under certain conditions which were :
to be revealed to you at such time as 1 |
things, a codicil to the will.
might think best.
“Your portion of Grandfather Jas- |
per’s property was worth, at its latest |
valuation, something like $440,000. Tt :
lies in a perfectly safe repository, situ- !
ated between the 105th and 110th de- |
grees of longitude west from Green-
wich, and the 35th and 40th degrees
north latitude.
ence of a girl with brown hair and
$e eyes and small mole on her left | NE
®houlder. a piebald horse which the
girl rides, and a dog with a split face
—half black and half white. You will
trail of your legacy.
“So there you are. Stannie, old boy:
there's your fortune. All you've got
to do is to go to work and find it. Per-
haps by that time you will have ac-
quired the working habit—which is
what Grandfather Jasper hoped might
prove to be the case.
“Wishing you great joy in your
search, I am,
“Your affectionate cousin,
When you find it, you
i will be able to identify it by the pres- |
and if you make the ac- |
, quaintance of the girl, you'll be on the
———— ——————— LL.
away before you could get back to Bos-
ton. Besides, there is the blue-eyed
girl; if she should bring you a fortune.
you'd have to marry her, wouldn't yeu?
You are big and strong, and—well—er
—nlice in a good many ways, Stannin
aud much too good-looking for your
own good; but when you marry——if
you do marry—you’d better be sure
that the girl has money enough to buy
her own hats, I haven't enough, as
you know.”
“I know only too well that the love-
in-a-cottage idea has never appealed
to you,” I said, with the regretful stop
pulled all the way out in deference to
the sentimental decencies.
“Not in the least, Stannie, dear; not
in the littlest least.”
This appeared to be the end of our
rather lukewarm love-dream, and to
be really honest and aboveboard about
it, I am obliged to confess that it
didn’t break as many bones for me ns
I suppose it should have. Anyway, =
half-hour or so after I had said gooo
by to Lisette I met Jack Downiug:
and when he asked me if I didn’t wan’
to go with him and a bunch of th
fellows for a little spin down the coas
of Maine in his motor cruiser, I fe!
for the imvitation so suddenly that nh:
hadn't a ghost of a chance to back out
if he had wanted to.
So, a few hours beyond that touch
ing little scene at “The Rockerie,” yon
may figure me, if you please, spinning
the wheel of one of the nattiest little
boats on the North shore, with a fresh
nor’easter blowing and the sea getting
up to give me the time of my young
life to hold the Guinevere to he:
course, nor’ nor'east, half a point east,
as we lifted the Shoals on our port
In such jolly good company as we
had aboard the stout ship Guinevere.
three full days elapsed before a
thought of Percy or his joke er en-
to-one shot that I wouldn't have
thought of him, or it, during the re-
mainder of the cruise if we hadn't
been obliged to tie up at Rockland for
motor repairs. This, as I recall it,
was on the fourth day, and it was a
You Can Figure Me,
if You Please,
Spinning the Wheel of One of the
Nattiest Little Boats on the North
Naturally, I had a quiet little laugh °
over this screed of Percy's, taking it
for a joke; a poor joke and in rather
bad taste, I thought. In that mood 1
handed the letter to Lisette for her to
read. She didn’t laugh, but she did
look a bit scornful and put about, if
you know what I mean.
“I don’t suppose the blue-eyed girl
would appeal to you,” she said,
“though the horse and the dog might. :
When do you start?”
We discovered that Meridian 105
west of Greenwich split the state of
Colorado just beyond Denver, Colorado
Springs and Pueblo, and the hunting-
ground plotted out for me took in
three-fourths of the remainder of the
state, a slice of Utah, a good bit bigger
slice of New Mexico, with a bite out
of the northeastern corner of Arizona,
just for good measure.
“Me for the wild and woolly!” 1
brayed. “Don't you see me rigged out
in a nice, hairy pair of ‘shaps’ and
riding hell-bent-for-leather—I believe
that’s the phrase—over - the snow- |
capped peaks or the boundless prairies,
as the case may be? But just imagine
Percy the immaculate pulling a bone-
head joke like this!”
“You are taking it for a joke?” she
“Sure I am; and it’s a rather rotten
one at that, I should say—considering
the source.”
“Then you won't go to look for the
blue-eyed girl with nut-brown hair and
the cunning little mole? Think of what
you may be missing!”
For just one crazy minute I had a
hunch, or a premonition, or whatever
you like to call it, that the letter might
not be a joke. Grandfather Jasper had
always been a bit eccentric—a rich
man's privilege and a rich old man’s
incontestable right. What if he had
actually done this thing to me?—a
thing scarcely less devastating than
cutting me off without a penny? On
the spur of the moment I said:
“1f I should go, would you wait for
me, Lisette?”
She took her time about answering
—a good and sufficient plenty of it.
“I think perhaps I'd better not
change the ring back, Stannie,” she
said, sort of wintrily., “If there is any
money and you should happen to find
it, you would probably fling it all
dog that made me remember; a mon-
grel cur that followed the motor re-
pairman down to the wharf; a most
disreputable looking mongrel, at that,
but—by Jove! he had the magic mark-
ings! Half of his face, measuring from
a line drawn straight down over the
tip of his nose, was black, and the oth-
er half was a dingy, dirty white.
So then 1 did a little rapid figuring
on train schedules. If Percy had left
Washington as I knew he was plan-
ning to, my diplomatic cousin should
have been, at that figuring moment.
just about due in San Francisco. That
being the case, or the likelihood, I tod-
. dled up to the telegraph office and sent
, a message, addressing it in care of the
captain of whatever might be the next
steamer due to sail for ports in Chins.
All I sald was: “Your letter was as
funny as an hour in a dentist's chair.
Bon voyage to you.”
Night found us still tied to the
Rockland wharf; and just as we were
getting up from dinner in the yacht's
' saloon, here came a boy with a tele-
gram. The wire was from Percy, and
it said:
“Don’t be a complete fool. It was
no joke at all. Ask my lawyer.”
Even then, I didn’: go off at half-
cock, though I have often been calied
an impulsive jackass. The thing was
still too ridiculous to bite very hard.
But farther along in the evening, when
I got to thinking it over, and more
especially when it was shoved in upon
me that I really did owe it to Lisette
not to turn down even the tenth part
of a chance to provide her with the
means of buying her future hats, the
die was cast, as the play-writers say.
I made some sort of a foolish excuse
to Jack Downing and the other fel-
lows, caught a night train for Boston,
stopped off at the home station long
enough to pack a couple of grips and
to tell my mother and sister good-by,
and the thing was-—oh, no; not done—
nothing like that. It was only just
A Needle in a Haystack.
Since my happy hunting-ground be-
gan in the middle of Colorado, I took
a ticket to Denver by way of Chicago
tered my head again; and it's a ten- |
and Omaha. As I recall it now, it was |
‘after the train had passed North!
Platte that I first became sensibly con
scious, as you might say, of the fact
that the man in the opposite section of
the sleeping-car had a little Pullman
table set up in front of him, and was
studying maps—and blue-prints. He
was a rather efficient-looking fellow of
maybe thirty-two or three, with dark
hair and eyes, and what Lisette would
have called a determined nose, and he
sported a beard and mustaches, nut-
brown as to color, and neatly trimmed
Farther along we met in the smoking
room, at a time when the stuffy little
den had no other occupants. Mr. Op-
posite Section’s only cigar turned out
to have a broken wrapper, so I natural-
ly tendered my own pocket-case. That
served to break the ice and we talked,
dribbling along from one commonplace
to another until finally Brown-beard
“You don’t by any chance happen to
he a mining engineer, do you?”
“Far be it from me,” I laughed;
“aothing so useful as that.”
“TI didn’t know.” he hastened to say,
half apologetically. “I saw you study-
ing maps as we came along.”
Now, ordinarily I'm apt to talk a lot
too much about my own affairs—I'll
admit it; but this was one time when
J had a sort of hunch not to. So 1
werely said:
“I saw you doing the same thing.”
“Sure you did,” he admitted cheer-
fully. Then he told me his name-—
which I got as Bullton, or Bulletin, or
something like that—and said he was
a mining engineer, which was the rea-
son why he had asked me if I wasn’t
Past that, the talk ran mostly upon
his profession, and since the mysteri-
ous hunch was still nudging me, 1 let
him have the floor, so to speak, figur-
ing chiefly myself as a good listener. |
“Yes; we do run across some rather :
queer propositions in our trade,” he!
said, after he had given me some sort |
of an idea of what a mining engineer’s .
job is like. “In my own experience,
for example, the only sure shot I have
ever had—or possibly ever will have—
got away from me.”
It was up to me to bite, and, of
course, I did it.
“How was that?”
“The man died,” he replied laconi
cally. ;
That sounded rather interesting, sc
I gave him another pinch.
“Tell me about it; if it won’t bore
He grinned good-naturedly—and ac:
He Grinned Good-Naturedly and Ac- |
cepted Another Cigar. !
cepted another cigar out of my pocket- !
case, |
“You'll be the one to be bored. It
was this way: A little over a year
ago I was on my way to Chicago with |
a report that I had been making on
some properties in the Cripple Creek
district. In the Denver-Omaha Pull-
man I fell in with a nice old gentle-
man who had been buying himself a
gold brick in the shape of a flooded
mine. The mine had at one time been
a ‘producer,’ though not by any means
what you'd call a ‘bonanza.’ After a '
rather extended dividend-paying period
—1I don’t know just how long, though
it was some years—the luck changed,
as sometimes happens. In sinking and
drifting the operators had uncovered
another vein which was exceedingly
rith. Don’t let me talk your arm off.”
“Go ahead,” said I. “My arms are
“Well, at about the time that they
struck this new underlying vein, they |
also struck water; so much of it as to
lead them to suspect that they had
tapped an underground lake. The old !
gentleman wasn’t exactly a woolly
sheep—in the Wall Street sense of the |
term. He had owned stock in the mine |
for a long time, and it had been pay-
ing him dividends, right along. So
naturally, after the new strike was an- |
nounced, he was perfectly willing to
own more. I don't know what his in-
vestment was, but he gave me to un-
derstand that it was something like
half a million. In less than a month
after the deal was closed the mine was
drowned and went out of business.”
“Still, IT don’t see your lost oppor-
tunity,” I threw in.
“Pm coming to that. As it happens,
my specialty as an engineer is the un-
watering of wet mines. The old gen-
tleman had i and profiles with
hin; records of a very careful and
excellent ie i survey. I'm
reasonably certain that I discovered a
way in which that mine can be drained
at comparatively small expense.
. the banker had given me.
- the situation for the lawyer, said I was
! right.
“] told him I thought I could do it;
but 1 didn't give my plan away. In-
stead, I made him a proposition; of-
fered to undertake the drainage job
at my own costs. If I should succeed,
he was to deed me a fourth interest in
the property. If I didn’t succeed, it
was to cost him nothing—sort of a
contingent fee, as a lawyer would say.”
I laughed. “You made an offer like
that to a stranger? and on a mine that
you had never seen?”
He grinned good-naturedly and got
back at me, quick.
“All business is a taking of chances.
As the matter stood at that stage of
the game, I had everything to gain and
nothing to lose, ‘and the only chance I
was taking was in the bet on my own
ability as an engineer. The old man
was a queer old codger in some re-
spects; as secretive and cautious as
an old fox. For example: he had care-
fully clipped the name of the mine
from the blue-prints and other papers,
and in all our talk he never once let
that name slip, and never even men-
tioned the name of the district in
which the mine was located. But in
spite of all this caution he drew up a!
sort of option agreement with me.
“We found a lawyer and had the
agreement drawn up in legal form.
The time limit was to be a year, and
each of us was to put up a thousand
dollars to make the agreement bind-
ing. If either of us should wish to
withdraw within that time, he was at
liberty to do so by forfeiting his ante
of a thousand dollars to the other. If
neither of us withdrew by or before
the end of the year, I was to be at lib-
erty to go ahead with my drainage
project, and the agreement bound the
owner to turn over a one-fourth inter-
est in the property to me upon the
completion of the job and the unwater-
ing of the mine.
“At the moment I was under engage-
; ment to go to Peru for a Chicago syn-
dicate, and I expected to be out of the
United States for at least six months,
and maybe longer. As it turned out,
the South American job was a lot big-
ger than I had anticipated, and for
that reason the time limit of a year
expired a week ago, on the day that I
landed in New York. Yesterday I
called upon the Omaha banker, and he
gave me the cheering information that
my old man was dead—had died just
a few days earlier.”
“Still, I don’t see how you have lost
out,” I put in.
“Wait; here comes the funny part
of it. Mr. Banker tells me solemnly
that I am remembered in my old gen-
tleman’s disposition of some cash lega-
cies made just before his death, and
I'm to have the thousand dollars which
: he put up as a forfeit. I took the prize
: down and spent some of it within the
' next few minutes wiring the old man’s
home lawyer, whose name and address
I briefed
ready to fulfill my part of the con-
tract, and asked him to wire me the
name and location of the mine. You'd
never guess in a thousand years the
kind of an answer I got.”
I shook my head.
“No; probably not. What was it?”
“It was a bolt from the blue, all
Mr. Home Lawyer wired that
his client had never owned a share of
mining stock in his life, that there was
: nothing in his papers or records bear-
ing upon the subject of my telegram,
: and that I must be either drunk or
crazy. Of course, he didn’t put it just
that way in his reply, but that is what
he meant.”
“How do you sort it out?” I inquired.
“The lawyer’s telegram? I put it up
that my cautious, secretive old gentle-
. man never told anybody at home about
' his mining investments; kept them in
' a separate pocket, so to speak. Quite
i possibly he didn’t have any other ex-
cepting the one I've been telling you
about, and the one he regarded as a
{ dead cock in the pit. That would ex-
! plain the situation nicely, don’t you
The story had left me a bit fogged
as to the present state and standing
of the thing, and I said so.
“Well, it stacks up about this way,”
said Brown-beard. “There is a per-
fectly good mine somewhere west of
us that is worth anywhere from a
quarter to a half million, and at the
present moment it is kicking around
without an owner. So far as I can see,
I'm the only man on top of earth who
has a claim on any part of it. And I
have no more idea than the man in the
moon where it is ‘at’ No; I'm afraid
my handsome fortune is a lost dog, so
far as I'm concerned.”
His mention of a lost dog hit me
right in the center of the solar plexus
and I laughed like a fool.
“What struck your funny-bone?” he
demanded, sort of dubiously, I fancied.
“Nothing,” 1 gurgled; “nothing
worth mentioning—only I'm hunting
for a lost dog, too.”
But I didn’t tell him any more. After
we’d smoked a while longer, and
Brown-beard had apologized for mak-
ing me listen to his rather longish tale
of woe, we took the porter’s hint that
he'd like to have the smoking room for
his nightly shoe-shine, and turned in.
Waifs and Strays.
When I crawled out of my berth at
the porter’s call the next morning, my
Pullman was standing in the Denver
yard. While I was shaving in the
washroom I asked the colored boy if
my smoking-room chum of the night
before was up yet.
“Yas, sah; he done been up an’ gone,
for the longest.”
Of course, this was mere idle ques-
tioning on my part. Tracing the
brown-bearded mining engineer who
had used me as a convenient dumping
ground for his story was the least of
my intention at the moment. For that
matter, since we hadn't exchanged
cards, and I wasn’t even sure that I'd
heard his name straight, I couldn't
have traced him if I had wanted to.
Recalling the story in the garish
light of another day, it seemed a bit
less credible than it had while I was
listening to it, and I began to wonder
if the teller of it might not be a mem-
ber of the deathless guild of smoke-
room romancers. I buried the story
among the things to be smiled at and
forgotten, when I took a taxi fer the
hotel. After an excellent breakfast I
made a few inquiries about the meri-
dian; the 105th, that the maps showed
as passing just west of the city. The
maps were right, The 105th meridiar,
which is the one from which mountain
time is reckoned, ran a little west of
the city proper, and, by consequencs,
west of the two other principal cities
of the state, Colorado Springs and
I found that the 105th meridian,
tracing it north from Denver, stops
short against the 40th parallel of latl-
tude just south of a little town called
Erie. Traced south, it tracks the D.
& R. G. railroad for about twenty
miles and then takes to the mountall,
barely shutting out Manitou, and pass-
ing, of course, well to the west-
ward of Pueblo. This simplified mat-
ters—a little.
Yet this business of wandering aim-
lessly from post to pillar, combing the
face of nature for blue-eyed maidens
and piebald horses and harlequin-faced
dogs was already beginning to strike
me as about the most fantastic thing a
body could conceive of doing. To at-
tempt it without a plan of some kind
seemed worse than useless; so, for per-
haps the first time in a pretty rattie-
brained life, I sat down to do some
ground-and-lofty head work, with
Cousin Percy’s letter for a sort of
The third paragraph contained the
meat of the matter: “Your portion of
Grandfather Jasper's property was
worth, at its latest valuation, some-
thing like $440,000.” What single piece
of property outside of a large city
could be worth any such sum as that?
I could think of nothing but a mine of
some kind, unless it might be a cattle
ranch, or a growth of standing timber;
and in the area laid out for me, mines
would outvote cattle or timber about a
hundred to one, I thought.
Then there was that other phrase:
“It lies in a perfectly safe repository.
. . . “Repository” implied a recep-
tacle or container of some sort; a brick
wall, or a barbed-wire fence, or any in-
closing thing you like to imagine. Could
a mine be said to be a “repository”?
As you see, I kept coming back to
the mine idea, in spite of all I could
do; and at last, without a word of
warning, and right out of a clear sky,
as you may say, smack! a thing hit
me squarely between the shoulder-
blades—Brown-beard and his eccentric
old gentleman!
After I got cooled off a bit I had to
admit that there was something less
than one chance in a thousand that, at
the price of a couple of cigars given to
a fellow traveler in distress, I had pur-’
chased any real clue to my own puzzle.
Yet I couldn't get away from the
notion that I was on the verge of a dis-
covery. Oddly enough, the miraculous
part of it—the one chance in a million
that I should run across the one per-
son in a hundred million who could teil
me that particular story—didn’t im-
press me at the time. I was too busily
engaged in trying to fit the puzzle
pieces together to think of anything
else at the moment.
Come to sum them up, they fitted as-
toundingly well. Grandfather Jasper
had always been exceedingly close-
mouthed when speaking of his invest-
ments. Added to that, he would be
the last man in the world to have con-
fessed that he had been bitten, even in-
directly, by a “gold-brick” game. Then,
too, the course he had pursued with
the mining engineer (always granting
the truth of Brown-beard’s story) was
just like him ; he would have wanted a
year in which to think it over—or may-
be longer. Also, it was like him to
keep all the identifying marks as
carefully hidden as a nut meat in its
At this point I began to think about
getting action. One word from Bull-
ton, or Bulletin, or whatever his name
was, would settle the identities beyond
guestion, and that word was his “old
gentleman's” name. He hadn't men-
tioned it once in telling his yarn—
which might have been by design, or
just a happen-so. But, by heavens, I'd
make him mention it!
(Continued next week).
Gude’s Pepto-Mangan, the Blood
Builder, Arouses Dull Faculties.
Many a man and many a woman
feels all out of sorts from thin, weak-
ened blood. The least little thing
gone wrong throws them into a wild
form of despondency. Instead of
bracing up and meeting ordinary dif-
ficulties, they are downed. Nerves
are on edge. Appetite lags. Sleep is
restless. They are weak and tired
and dull. Poor blood works its hav-
oc till the will loses its power. Few
people who fall into habits of worry
and despondency realize that most of
their troubles are due to lack of en-
durance—to blood that has become
weakened by overwork or straining.
Healthy men and women with rich,
red blood see things brightly. They
tackle life with zest and go along
smiling, full of eagerness and endur-
Gude’s Pepto-Mangan taken steadi-
ly restores the blood to its natural
richness. It actually makes red cor-
puscles, the tiny particles in blood
which make it red. Druggists have
Gude’s Pepto-Mangan in liquid and
tablet form.—Adv. 66-46
~——Subscribe for the “Watchman.”