6
THAT SLICE OF WARM BRFAD.
vComing home from the office. Its cares and
Its worries.
Weighing me down with a burden to
night.
>1 thought of my care-free and forllcsome
boyhood.
And how quickly the years Intervening
took flight;
Ah! well I remember no chain could have
»>Mind me.
As h0..,,: from the schoolhouse my eager
feet sped.
Would now that my dining brought such
satisfaction.
As the thought of that slice of my
mother's warm bread.
STo business transaction, however success
ful.
Can give such a thrill of unalloyed bliss
AM 1 felt when mother, with limitless kind
ness.
t.a.id that great snowy slice In my little
brown fist,
tvo rhythmical wording can ever describe
It;
Or no sweeter ambrosia the gods ever
fed;
The future had need of no optimist's
glasses,
While I held in my brown fist that slice
of warm bread.
Oh. often when closing my desk for the
evening,
Where the roar of the city drowns each
homely sound;
I Imagine myself at the old country home
stead.
Where the daisies are sprinkling the soft
grassy ground;
And I hear in the pasture the clear tink
ling cow-bells.
And know to the brook's limped pools
they have fled:
t a.m once again sitting, a little brown
rascal.
Munching away at my slice of warm
bread.
While under the apple trees out In the
orchard.
The white calves are playing at bump,
with the brown,
And the birds are a-twitter preparing for
night time.
Busily feeding their babies of down.
Oh. never those memories life's hurry and
bustle
Can ever efface, till the grave hides my
head.
No pleasure of life e'er excel or quite equal
The wealth of content In that slice of
warm bread.
—Albert Delane, In Housekeeper.
1 A CLEW BY WIRE !
■-£ £
Or, An interrupted Current. »-*
| I:
BY HOWARD M. YOST. Sj
Copyright. 1896. by J. B. Lippincott Co. 5
CHAPTER X.— CONTINUED.
T went on expressing amazement, un
til I discovered that Sonntag did not
8«m to hear me, so intent was he over
the words the voice had uttered.
"Pshaw! what's the use bothering
over that, Mr. Sonntag?" I said. "There
f«n't much sense to be made out of it,
Mnyhow."
"Yes, there is, too. It is conversa
tion, and not a mere jumble of words,"
the old lawyer said, with an air of tri
umph. "Just hear what I make out of
it now."
Divided up, the following was Sonn
tag's version:
First Party—"Never will you have my
consent under existing circumstances.
You have broken faitli with me in every
way. Why was the property removed
from the original place?"
Second Party—"To bring you to
time."
First Party—"What did you do with
It?"
Second Party—"Safely hid, where you
ran never find it unless you talk wis
dom. I shall go for it this very niyht
■a nd take it away, and not one dollar
will you ever
"There, that's a pretty sensible talk,
T take it," said my lawyer, when he had
finished.
"Oh, well, perhaps it is sensible
enough, but what good will it do you,
now that you have made a conversation
»aut of it?" I remarked, in some im
patience, for Sonntag's satisfaction
*<eemed to be out of all proportion to the
importance of a few eliance remarks
caught in some mysterious fashion
from a telephone wire.
The old lawyer smiled in a kind of
pitying way, and regarded me with a
whimsical expression.
"Who knows?" I went on, gayly;
"perhaps my arrival in Nelsonville may
lie the cause of a complete revolution in
matters regarding the telephone. I
must send for an electrical expert and
have him investigate the mystery. Al
ready there are visions of an immense
fortune floating through my head."
"Suppose we goto the old school
house from which the stones used in the
two doorways were evidently taken,"
Sonntag suggested, breaking in upon
my imaginings.
"What possible difference can it make
if the stones were taken from there?"
I remarked. "That will not tell us why
the job was done."
"Well, it would be pleasant for you to
meet an old friend. Horace Jackson's
faunting lodge is quite near the sehool-
Siotise. Perhaps we may find liim at
his place," my lawyer said, insinuat
ingly.
"Yes, I know. The fellow Hunter, the
Bgent at Sidington, told me Jackson
comes up here occasionally to hunt and
fish. But as for Jackson being a friend
of mine, heaven save me from such
friends!"
Noting Sonntag's surprise at my
words, I explained the reason of my
outburst —how Jackson had of late
changed his opinion of my innocence,
and how Florence had made a compact
with him, and the certainty he seemed
to feel that she would be compelled to
.redeem her promise.
The lawyer was all attention now,
■keeping his sharp eyes constantly on
my face, while 1 poured out my opin
ion of Jackson and his underhand meth
ods. I was a lover, and Jackson a sort
■©£ rival, so naturally my remarks were
somewhat stronger, perhaps, than nec
essary.
"Why did you call the station-agent
Hunter?" asked Sonntag.
"Because he told me that was his
•name," I replied.
"Indeed! What could he have told
you that for, I wonder? His name is
not Hunter; it's Skinner."
"It is? Well, that's odd. Why should
he wish to conceal his real name from
me?"
"H'm! can't say, I'm sure," replied
Sonntag, dryly. "But lam delighted
beyond measure to hear what you have
told me concerning Jackson," lie ex
claimed, with more enthusiasm than
he had ever displayed.
"Oh, indeed! It does not delight
me; the bare suspicion has been enough
for me to endure. Ido not know that
I would care very much for a seeming
proof of guilt t«> be found against me.
You do actually seem pleased," I re
marked with disgust,
"Pleased is not the word. lam more
than pleased. What you have told me
is a most important bit of news,"Sonn
tag said, taking up his hat.
"Why is it important, and to whom?"
I asked.
"Very important to me, but more to
yourself."
"No; stay and explain," I called to
him as he went out the door; "whai
do you mean?"
"Haven't a moment's time. Must go.
I mean *hat most probably the cloud
which Is enveloped your name will be
lifted shortly. Do not cut into the cel
lar to-day. Wait until to-morrow."
Saying this, my lawyer departed.
CHAPTER XI.
I stood for some time gazing at the
door through which Mr. Sonntag had
gone. Amazement held possession of
me. A thousand and one questions
whirled through my head.
But my lawyer had departed. I final
ly strode to the window in the hope of
finding him within hailing distance.
He was far down the Twineburgli
road, too far to call him.
I saw him pull up his horse and lean
forward and address a man who had
approached him from the opposite di
rection.
The conversation lasted but a minute,
and then horseman and pedestrian each
went on their several ways.
When the pedestrian drew nearer I
saw it was Hunter, the station agent ift
Sidington, or, as Sonntag had informed
me. Skinner. It seemed very odd that
he should have assumed another name.
Then my eye caught the glimpse of a
horsewoman coming down the road
from the direction of the Morley resi
dence. It needed but that glimpse to
tell me that it was Florence. She was
coming toward the house, perhaps to
see me.
When she reached the cross-road lead
ing to Sidington and Twineburgli, up
• which the man Hunter was approach
ins-, she reined up her horse.
When the fellow came up to Florence,
I was surprised to see him stop and en
gage her in a conversation which last
ed some minutes and appeared to be
rather earnent, judging by the way
' Florence leaned down toward him.
Finally the young woman turned her
horse's head and galloped back in the
direction she had come.
The station agent watched her re
treating form, then slowly began to re
trace his steps. He had pone but a
. short distance when he stopped and
looked toward my house, then again
I turned and came back.
I watched him from behind the eur
i tains. As he approached near I saw
his clothing was wet and bedraggled,
i which plainly showed that he had been
out in the recent shower,
i He came up to the house in a hesitat
ing way, glancing all around furtively,
, and was about to pass up into the yard,
• when I leaned from the window and
hailed him.
"Ilalloo, there! what's up? What do
I you want?" I demanded.
Glancing up at me with his stupid
> stare, lie spoke. "When you want to
, send anything away by freight, have it
i at the station before nine o'clock in the
morning," he said, in the deliberating
i way of one who is compelled to manu
; facture a speech on the spur of the
i moment.
i "Is that all you wish to say to me?
You did not come all the way from Sid
f ington to tell me that?" I inquired,
i caustically.
"Why, no," he began, glancing all
; around, as though seeking for his
r words in the surrounding objects. "1
i —I thought perhaps you didn't know —
I that —that—a —are you having a good
1 time?"
"A most enjoyable time indeed," I ex
e claimed, enthusiastically, if somewhat
sarcastically. "Just such a time as
- I needed—restful, quiet, and perfect
» peace."
" Just a trace of a smile seemed to flit
1 across his face at my words.
"Oh! then there is nothing the mat
e ter with the place?" he asked, cu
' riously.
/ I was considerably surprised at this
question. "1 should say not. What
D should be the matter with it?" I asked,
s "Some folks say it's kind o' queer
- like. Some say dead people use the
t house at nights for meetings," he re
r plied, sinking his voice down low, and
glancing around nervously,
e "is that so? Well, let them. As
l long as the dead ones don't disturb me,
J I am sure I have no objection. What
1 part of the house are the spirits sup
i posed to frequent?" I asked, a thought
of the walled cellar coming to me.
y The fellow seemed a trille flustered,
y I thought, by my sudden question. He
e gave vent to a nervous laugh, and at
>, the same time darted a sharp glance
t at me, which, momentary as it was,
i nevertheless was so different from his
o usual half-wondering stare that 1 was
impressed by it.
r, "Oh, I don't know what part of the
ia house is used by the spirits. How
i- should I know?"
i- There had been something irritating
t to me in the fellow, and, as there was
e a hint of insolence in his last words,
!- I gave way to my impatience.
"See here; you have given me some
t strange hints about my house,"l be
gan sternly; "now, then, you'll please
s explain more fully what you mean,
Mr. Hunter, or perhaps, I should say,
d Mr. Skinner."
8 I do not know what impelled me to
add the name which Sonntag said was
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, MAY 5, 1898
the correct one, but the effect on the
fellow startled me considerably.
II is eyes grew staring', and % terrified,
hunted expression came over his face.
Glancing furtively around and draw
ing back a step or two, his hand went
to his hip-pocket.
As the glint of a shining object
caught my eye, I drew suddenly back to
one side of the window, and the next
instant a pistol report sounded out.
I stood still a moment, dumfounded
by the attack, then dropped on my
hands and knees and crept past the win
dow to the table, in the drawer of which
I had placed my pistol. Hastily grasp
ingl the weapon and noting that it was
ready for use, I arose and approached
the window, holding the pistol before
me in readiness.
"Two can play at your game, Mr. "
But I got no further. The man was no
where to be seen.
1 hastened from the house and ran
around, searching for him, but no trace
could 1 discover. lie had vanished com
pletely. Ilis sudden disappearance
puzzled me.
I soon gave up the search, put ihe pis
tol in my pocket, and started briskly up
the road toward the Morley place.
If the station agent was such a des
perate fellow as to draw and shoot at a
word, what could Florence have to do
with him?
It was strange that Sonntag should
know the fellow's right name and not
know the danger attendant on calling
him by it. My lawyer had seemed sur
prised when I stated that the fellow
had told me his name was Hunter. In
all probability Sonntag had addressed
him by the name of Skinner many
times, and the fellow had not resented
it, or the lawyer would have mentioned
the fact. Why, then, should he resent
in so fierce and deadly a manner my use
of his right name?
Perhaps Florence could tell me some
thing about Mr. Hunter, or Skinner. At
least it was right I should warn her
against him.
With these thoughts flitting across
my mind, I soon arrived at the Morley
home, and, entering the gate, went up
the long graveled walk. Before an op
portunity was allowed me to ascend
the steps leading to the piazza, my name
was called.
"Why, Mr. Conway!"
It was Florence who called, and who
on my turning toward her got out of
a hammock. She was still dressed in her
riding-habit, and as I approached I no
ticed her horse tied to a post near by.
"Are you going riding again?" I
asked. "In that case, pardon my in
trusion."
"Papa and I usually ride at this
time. I am waiting for him," she said,
"Desperate vill&lnP" she repeated.
with a touch of surprise; for I had
spoken in rather formal tones.
"Then I will defer my errand. Some
othir time will answer just as well, per
haps. Will you kindly tell me when I
may have the pleasure of seeing you?"
"What is it, Nelson? What can be
the matter?" she asked, her brown
eyes staring in astonishment. "Will
you not speak now?"
"Why, I can certainly. It is not very
important, perhaps. I wish to ask you
what you know about the station agent
at Sidington. 1 have seen you talking
with him on several occasions. What
can one like you have to talk about with
such a desperate villain!"
Florence's face turned white. "Des
perate villain?" she repeated, in a fear
some whisper. "Why, Nelson!"
Then I told of my recent talk with
the scoundrel and his dastardly at
tempt to shoot me.
Florence hearkened, with hands
clasped across her bosom, her eyes
staring in terrified amazement.
"Oh, do not be alarmed," I added. "He
did not hit me. A miss is as good as a
mile, you know."
But «he still stood gazing at me,
doubt and fear upon her face, too dum
founded to speak. Finally, she burst
into tears, and, in a most pathetic way,
held out her hands appealingly to me.
Stirred to the heart's core by her
grief, I caught the dear form in my
arms. Wondering what coidd be the
cause of the sudden and overwhelming
expression of sorrow, and heartily
ashamed of myself for having ad
dressed her in cold, formal tones, I
sought with many endearing terras to
console her.
What is it, my love, that so distresses
you? Tell me about it. You do not
know how happy it would make me to
be allowed to share your troubles."
"I am troubled. Nelson, deeply
troubled," she replied, raising her tear
stained face. "There are so many in
explicable things going on about me,
HO much mystery, such forebodings of
dreadful happenings, In my heart, that
if it were not for your love existence
would be misery. And now your own
dear life is threatened, and all rnv
fault, too. I cannot understand it at all.
Why should anyone want to kill you?
Oh, Nelson!"
She laid her head against me, and I
gently stroked the soft tresses which
fell back behind her ear in such beau
tiful waves. For a few moments I could
not answer. Her words startled me. be
yond expressinon. What, in God's name,
was there nbout this back-country
place? Had its uncanny mysteries even
entered my darling's sweet life to taint
its happiness?
"Do not give way to an unreasonable
terror, dear heart," I finally said.
"What possible harm can reach you?"
"It is not for myself that I am fear
ful, and I suppose it is unreasonable;
but think. Nelson, if he had shot you!"
She shuddered, and then with an ef
fort became calmer.
"Do not worry about me. Be sure I
am able to take care of myself; and
forewarned is forearmed. What else
is there? Tell me. You know you may
count on mv help and sympathy."
"Yes, 3'es, I know that, Nelson. And
I do need your help. It seems as though
I were walking blindfolded on the edge
of a precipice." The loved form
nestled closer to me. It made me fool
ishly happy to hold her in my arms and
know they were as a haven of refuge to
her.
"Then, too," Florence went on,"I
aift so worried about father."
"So you said yesterday. Have you
any reason to be?"
"Maybe not; at least I know of none,
except that he is so changed of late.
But a woman's instinct often divines
causes for worry when none are per
ceptible."
"You cannot mean that he is changed
toward you?"
"Oh, no, no! Not in his love for me.
Indeed, there seems to be an augment
ed tenderness toward me. And it
makes me feel as though, somehow, I
was partly the cause of the trouble.
Why, I know there is something wor
rying poor father. He is even chang
ing in appearance, and is becoming so
haggard. There is some secret sorrow
he is enduring. I spoke to him about
it only the other day."
"What answer did he give you?" I
asked.
"Just laughed, and said I was gifted
with a vivid imagination."
"There, you see, it must be only
business worry. If it were anything
regarding yourself, he would not make
light of it."
Florence was partly comforted by
my assurance. She glanced up into
my face and smiled. But the troubled
and perplexed look came back when
she answered:
"Perhaps it is as you say. But I can
not get it out of my head that Mr. Jack
son is somehow connected with it all."
"Jackson? How could he affect your
father's life so seriously?" I exclaimed.
"I do not know. He used to come
here frequently until lately. And after
every visit father seemed to be so
troubled and worried."
[TO BE CONTINUED.I
THE ART OF CONVERSATION.
He Truvrlril Itound the World and
Snld Nothing About It.
Taking them all round, I had rather
talk with a strange doctor than a stran
ger of any other profession. They have
generally seen a great deal of human
nature, and if they have only seen a
little of it it is worth hearing about.
They never talk about art. at- a!l events.
I confess I am rather afraid of trav
elers, unless they are commercial trav
elers. They are too full of information
and are too often anxious to impart it.
Sometimes it is not even true. Fred
erick Locker used to tell of how an un
scrupulous traveler narrating his ad
ventures' among the red Indians was
cleverly stopped by Lord Barrymore
"Did you ever see anything of the Chick-
Chows?" "Oh, a great deal," said Sir
Arthur; "a very cruel tribe, the Chick
(Chows." "And the Cherry-Chows,eh?"
"Oh, very much among the Cherry-
Chows," continued Sir Arthur; "the
Cherry-Chows were singularly kind to
my fellows." "And pray. Sir Arthur,
did 7 ou see much of the Tol-de-roddy
bow-wows ?"
This was too much for even Sir Ar
thur. lie was rather put out, but the
company was relieved. Nevertheless,
there are modest travelers. I had once
a great friend who had traveled all
round the world. When almost on his
deathbed he spoke to me on the subject
for the first time with humorous pathos.
"My dear fellow, you will do me the
justice, when I am gone, to say that I
never told you one word about it." But
he was a noble exception.—Nineteenth
Century.
Tlie Wisdom of Krnppr.
A golfer in South Africa left his prop
erty to be equally divided between two
sons. Not being able to agree they de
cided to let President Kruger arbitrate,
lie said to the eldest: "You are the
eldest, are you not?" "Yes," was the
answer. "So you shall divide the prop
erty." This pleased the elder immense
Iv. "You are th" younger," continued
Kruger to the orher, "so you shall have
first choice!"— Golf.
A Youthful Flnnncier.
Effie's Brotliei - —Do you love my sis
ter Effie?
Elbe's Steady Company—Why, Willie,
that is a queer question. Why do you
want to know?
Elbe's Brother —She said last night
she would give a ten po'md note to
know; and I'd lilie to seosp it in.—Tit-
Bits.
Willing; to Treat.
"Then, proud beauty, you refuse my
love?" said lie. "Well," said the sum
mer girl, thoughtfully, "I don't know
but that I might be willing to take au
option on it."-—lndianapolis Journal.
In Every Sense of the Term.
"She is a decided brunette, isn't she?"
"Very. They say her husband can't
call his soul his own." —Puck
TO INVADE CUBA.
Preparations are Being Made by
Army Officers.
Cavalry. Infantry avid Artilleryman are Or
«ler««l to Tampa, Fla., Where It In Kx
peeteil that the Troop* Will be AH-
Hem bled t hat are to Teach
tlii) DOHA a Lewon.
Washington. April 30.—lien. Miles
and his assistant.-, were in conference
yesterday respecting military opera
tions that arc to be undertaken in the
occupation of Cuba. They all main
tain the strict*,t reticence concerning
the result, of these deliberations. The
Cuban representatives in Washington
were at Gen. Miles' headquarters and
were consulted in regard to various
steps which would arise in connection
with the co-operation of t'nited States
troops with the insurgent forces in
Cuba.
C'hiekamauga National l'ark, Ga.,
April 30.—There was hustling among
the artillerymen at C'hiekamauga Park
yesterday. The eight batteries in
camp were ordered at once to Tampa
and the entire day was taken up in
getting the men, horses and guns
aboard the cars. Trains bearing these
men and their equipments have been
given the right of way and it is ex
pected they will arrive at Tampa this
morning. The Twenty-fourth infantry
and the Ninth cavalry will move this
morning to the coast.
New Orleans, April 30.—The First
regiment left hare last night for Tam
pa, waiting over for Gen. Shafter's
staff, who were also ordered to meet
the commander in Florida. The im
pression among army men is that the
first army corps sent into Cuba will be
for the purpose of co-operating with
the insurgents.
Mobile. Ala.. April 30.—The Tenth
anil Twenty-second regiments left
camp here Friday afternoon, bound for
Tampa.
AN ANANIAS IN UNIFORM.
Spain's War Minister Deilares that the Kn
gaKemetit at MatanzaM Resulted In a
Great Victory for Spanish Arms.
Madrid, April 30.—The minister of
war. Gen. Correa, in the chamber of
deputies yesterday, replying to in
quiries for particulars in regard to the
bombardment of the forts at Matan/.as,
said the government had decided to
publish "all the news received, good or
bad."
Continuing. Gen. Correa told the
deputies that the United' States squad
on fired 00 projectiles, and that the
only victim was a mule, a remark
which aroused laughter among the
Spaniards.
The general next informed the house
that the American warships were in
jured by the fire of the Spanish bat
teries. and he asserted that the insur
gents were acting in conjunction with
the t'nited States forces, as they ad
vanced in the direction of Matanzas
while the bombardment was proceed
ing.
"Hut." added the minister for war.
"they were completely routed." In
conclusion Gen. Correa remarked: "It
was a glorious day for the Spanish
arms."
Gen. Weyler in the senate yesterday
urged the government to take the of
fensive against America, lie justified
his administration in Cuba, lie de
clared that had he been allowed six
months longer he would have entirely
crushed the insurrection and would
have realized the promise he made to
Senor Canovas del Castillo that by
April, ls'.is, In- would be in a position
to offer him 50,000 veterans to attack
the United States.
A great impression has been pro
duced here by a rumor that Germany
has issued a note declaring that she
will not oppose the landing of troops
in the Phillippines, but will not per
mit any bombardment.
WHITHER BOUND?
Spain's Fleet Finally Leaven Cape Verde
Islands A Portion of the Squadron Dis
abled liy a Collision.
London, April 30.—A dispatch from
St. Vincent, Cape Verde islands, says
the Spanish cruisers Maria Teresa. Al
mirante Oquendo, Vizeaya and Cristo
bal Colon, accompanied by the Spanish
torpedo boat destroyers Pluton, Terror
and Furor, sailed Friday morning in a
westerly direction, presumably going
towards Cuba. The dispatch adds that
the Spanish torpedo boats Azor. Kayo
and Ariete and the Spanish transports
San Francisco and Ciudad de Cadiz
sailed at the same time in a northerly
direction, probably going to the Canary
islands.
St. Vincent. Cape Verde Islands. April
30. —Two of the Spanish transports re
turned here Friday with three Spanish
torpedo boats, owing to a collision.
The Spaniards say two of the torpedo
boats were slightly damaged. They
claim the boats will be able to sail
to-day.
Washington. April 30.—The navy de
partment received news Friday of the
sailing from St. Vincent, Cape Verde,
of the Spanish tleet. The majority of
the naval officers here feel confident
that the Spanish fleet will next appear
at the Canary islands, about half way
between Cape Verde and Spain. As
the Canaries are Spanish islands and
possess some strong fortifications, it
may be that the fleet will remain there
'or some time, as the islands form a
good strategic base. What most con
cerns the naval officers just now is how
to learn when the fleet arrives there.
The Newport Captures a Sloop.
Key West, Fla., April 30.—A small
Spanish sloop, the Kngracia, captured
on Thursday by the gunboat Newport,
off Cabanas, was brought in here Fri
day. She was in charge of a prize
crew. Only one blank shot was neces
sary to bring the Engracia to. She
had on board a crew of seven men and
a cargo of fish.
OfTers to Form ail Irish Itrigaile.
New York, April 30.—A letter has
been sent to President McKinley by
William Lyman, president of the Irish
National Alliance, offering to form an
Irish brigade to assist the United
States in the war against Spain.
Go to yo r get
a bottle of Hood's Sarsapartlla and be
gin to take it today, and realize at onca
the great good it is sure to do you.
Hood's Sarsaparilla
Is America's Greatest Spring Medicine.
Prayer for Columbus.
Prof. Park, of Andover, figures rath
er amusinffly in the reminiscences of
the late Prof. Schaff, just published.
In 1843 Seliaff, being a privat-docent at
Berlin, introduced Park to his (ierinan
friends, among the rest to Kahnis. He
relates that, under the continuous pelt
ing of Park's questions, Kahnis finally
exclaimed, in despair: "God forgive
Christopher Columbus for discovering
Am o rii.'a!"
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and get a 15c. package of
I Grain=o
a^es pi ace °f c °f"
Ylr fee at £ the cost.
Made from pure grains it
is nourishing and health-
W ful.
blllt that your #srooer &ives you GR AIN-O.
PILES
"InulTercd the torluro* of tlir <llllllll< <I
with protruding piles brought on by constipa
tion with which I was afflicted for twenty
years. Iran across your CASCAKKTS in tlio
town of Xawell. la., and never found anything
to equal them. To-day I am entirely free from
piles and feel liko a new man."
C. H. KEITZ. 1411 Jones St., Sioux City, la.
CATHARTIC
TRADE MARK REOISTfRED
Pleasant. Palatable. Potent. Taste Good. Do
Good Never Sicken. Weaken, or Gripe. 10c, 25c, 50o»
... CURE CONSTIPATION. ...
Stirling Kfnrdy < lilmso. Montreal, K»w York. Sl>
HO TH RAP Sold and guaranteed by nil drug
nu-I U'llflw K ists to Cl' It K Tobacco Habit.
IF Yflll ARE Ji'hiiMin's Pan-lit Bora*.
IT lUU «nC lodine and Bran Soap will
▼ DAIIDi rn uiiyii K |v(> vou immediate and
TROUBLED WITH permanent relief. A«oi
»!■■■■ £ ftke llial i ot i on receipt ol
m Bl At> 2<» cents—stamps taken.
4-JLI Ww Or Manufactured by Estate
of TIICB. GILL. Tit
TENDER FEET