6
WAKING DREAMS.
Between mine eyelids and .mine eyea.
Like red and satin poppy leaves.
Lie soft the dreams of I'fc.radtse.
They linger when my spirit irrieves;
They quench the fever In my brain.
And kiss my hopes to life again,
lu>tween mine eyelids and mine eyes.
Between mine eyelids and mine eyes,
Like star-beams melting Into peace.
Drift on the visions out of skies
Wherein eternal years Increase;
I lose my anchorage to earth.
And the light of second birth
BetWMt mine eyelids and mine eyes.
BetwevA mine eyelids and mine eyes,
With IvVs bright mystery and grace,
My precivrts friends without disguise.
With benedictions In each face.
Walk slowly midst the trees and flowers,
Or sleep within the garden bowers—
Between mine eyelids and mine eyes.
Between mine eyelids and mine eyes
A wandering spirit sweet as sleep
Comes singing where the daylight dies;
And tuneful founts of tears aleap
Begem the path her footsteps trod;
In hers my dim-eyed soul saw God,
Between mine eyelids and mine eyes.
Between mine eyelids and mine eyes.
I live and conquer, see and know.
0 let my spirit on this wise
Along the trackless confines go!
No other universe so sweet
As this—forever bright, complete—
Between mine eyelids and mine eyes.
—<it«v. Frank W. Gunsaulus, in Chicago
Saturday Evening Herald.
By CHAUNCY C. HOTCHKLSS
[Copyright, 1897, by D. Appleton Si Co. All
rights reserved.]
CHAPTER X.—CONTINUED.
It was my final moment. Casting a quick
look over the table for anything in the mat
ter of writing that might be used as a pass,
my eye spied the rolls of money which had
been given me, but nothing else of service
was in sight and there was not an instant to
lose in investigation. Releasing Clinton, I
jumped for the gold, swept it into my pock
et, and seizing Seammell's cloak as I went,
ran to the window, barely evading the
grasp of Mrs. Uadely, who made a bob at
me and would have hung like a leech had
she fastened to my clothing.
In less than a second I was over the rail,
and, landing on the turf, took to my heels,
pointing myself to the earthworks of the
deserted "Oyster Battery," which had been
erected by the Americans exactly in the rear
of headquarters and on the edge of the Hud
son.
This battery, grass-grown, dismantled, and
neglected as useless by the British, I knew
would be no permanent cover, but its em
bankments made a temporary shield betwixt
me and a possible shot from the house had
my line of flight been discovered. It was a
fair post for a minute's observation and re
flection, and, bounding through an empty
embrasure, I dodged down, and then rais
ing my head above the edge of the works,
looked back.
To my astonishment I was not at once
pursued, though two or three figures ap
peared at the window 1 had gone through,
all others being seemingly deserted. 1 had
to thank the day for my good fortune, as the
Sabbath was a time for general relaxation,
and were it not for that my chances would
have been next to naught. Few soldiers
were about, a corporal's guard only being
before the house when I entered it, but that
there would soon be wild confusion and a
general turning out I had small doubts.
The banks of the Hudson at this point
terminated in a steep bluff, at the bottom of
which was a narrow strip of beach. Once on
the Bands, 1 might run along screened from
those at a distance, but could easily be
headed and captured like a fish in a purse
net. I took the risk, however, and sliding
down the steep, sped northward for some
ways, coming to the top undiscovered and at
the edge of the burned district.
Into this wilderness of destruction I
plunged, but soon slackened my pace to a
walk to avoid marked observation from
those who inhabited the shanties abound
ing throughout the ruins. I was fairly safe
for the present, and decided there to halt
and take stock in myself and circumstances,
especially as I had no definite plans before
ine.
It came to me that I was now doubly
damned—first, as a spy; second, for doing
violence to the person of the highest func
tionary in America. I was without means of
escape from the city, and entirely unarmed.
I would be hunted like a wolf, and with less
mercy from one quarter at least. In short,
though 1 was then breathing free air, I was
in desperate straits, and, being so, it took
little reflection to see the necessity for act
ing like a desperate man.
1 came, then, to this decision: I would at
tempt a return to the tavern, recover my
arms and the paper of instructions, thelast of
which might at least add wight to my as
sumed character and help me in fori ing my
way through the lines —a move that had be
come imperative, and might be successful if
I acted with dispatch. Then to the Dove I
would go, and throw myself under the pro
tection of Stryker, whom, 1 had reas>- „o
believe, was on» of the true men se .etly
helping the patriot cause.
Of the brave gir! to whom I had sacri
ficed the pass (an act 1 did not for a mo
ment regret) I thought much. Like me, she
was marked for destruction; like me, she
had now two virulent enemies, for 1 could
not help believing that Mrs. Badely was at
the bottom of Clinton's desire to remove her
from a field which threatened the social su
premacy and interests of that lady. I won
dered how she had fared and in what direc
tion she had fled.
But I was in no position for long wonder
ment. Rising from my seat, 1 walked on un
til I had reached a point opposite King
street, then coming out into the Broadway,
crossed it and got myself to the rear of the
tavern. The man who interfered with ine
now would be past praying for, but to my
surprise I met with no opposition on pass
ing through the kitchen and bounding up
the back stairs, marking only the frightened
looks of the two women who were cooking.
In a moment I gained my room. It was in
a terrible state of confusion. Bloody bed
clothes strewed the floor, the mattress was
ripped open, blood was upon the table
(doubtless Scammell had been laid there
on), and the dust of plaster covered every
thing. Scammell himself was gone, and
likewise was gone the paper I had counted
on. My arms, however, were unmolested.
The ammunition had been swept from the
shelf to the floor in probable search for
treasonable documents (which search also
accounted for the general disorder), but no
part, of it was missing, nor, barring the pa
per, had any of my personal property been
taken from the room. I felt new strength
as I fastened on my sword and stuffed the
pistols in my belt, and, taking my rifle, I
went out, the way I had gone in, and still
without opposition.
And still without opposition or interrup
tion I regained the burned district. It had
been a miracle, but I was now no better off
than before, save that 1 was armed and
commanded the lives of at least three men
when the attempt should be made to take
me.
I was aware that the wilderness of black
ened walls and charred timber, which
seemed such a haven at present, would be
about the first region over which an or
ganized search would be prosecuted. The
very unlikelihood of my returning to the
tavern had made it possible for me to enter,
regain my arms anil leave unmolested, while
the darkest holes of the city would be thor
oughly scoured, and that at once. To bur
row into a crcviee in this field of desolation
might be possible, but it would end in
starvation and final discovery. To disguise
myself was not possible, nor, had 1 the
means, would it have ine much, as
my unusual size would have made disguise
of little more than temporary benefit. My
line of flight, whieh might easily be traced
along the sands of the strip of beach, point
ed plainly toward the region which I was
now traversing, and to remain in its vicin
ity was tantamount to placing myself with
in easy reach of my pursuers. I had but one
expedient, and that to elude capture until
nightfall by placing myself where there was
the least liability of search, and, under
cover of darkness, boldly attempting to force
the lines at a spot remote from the regular
roads of travel.
To this end I bethought me of taking to
water, and by swimming outflank the de
fenses; but I soon realized that the banks of
either river would be doubly guarded by
sentinels and patrol boats, though, aside
from the risk, I gave over the idea, as the at
tempt would necessitate my complete dis
arming.
Turning northward, therefore, I kept
within the limits of the black desolation un
til I reached its upper termination. Leaving
it behind, I cut through the grounds of
King's college, walking with apparent care
lessness, then onto the hospital, through its
confines, and still onward over a garden or
two and a field until 1 had arrived at the
edge of Lispenard's Meadows.
1 dared not trust myself to its broad open;
I could have been too easily marked from a
distance, so I turned me toward the Hud
son, keeping the while close to the shrubbery
which defined the meadow's limits, and
finally took refuge under a chestnut tree,
though ere long I was up it and as far toward
its top as 1 durst venture.
Years after 1 looked in vain for this tree,
but it had fallen under the ax, as fell all
the heavy timber on the island during the
terrible winter of 1780.
1 was now wet through. The cloak 1
had continued to wear to prevent easy iden
tification, together with the reeking weath
er and the showers of water which had
poured from the wet leaves, had saturated
me, and 1 was anything save comfortable as
I sat astride a bough and waited for the day
to end.
It was something after five o'clock, but as
yet I had discovered no signs of pursuit in
my direction. To beguile the time, I reload-'
ed my rifle and pistols, though 1 laid more
reliance on «ny strength of arm and hard
ness of fist to overcome a single guard than
1 did on firearms. The great wet meadow
stretched before me like a green sea, broken
only by the clump of trees which was to
have been my dueling ground on the mor
row, and the sluggish brook taking its rise
from the Collect, cutting in twain length
wise and draining the plain which had once
been a dangerous and pestilence-breeding
quagmire. The thunderstorm had passed,
but the sky was"yet heavily overcast, prom
ising a dark, wet night (which suited my
purpose), and by the time the sun set and
I swung myself from my lofty perch the rain
was coming down, not in torrents, but with
a steady drip-drop that told of a decided
change of weather.
I had no preparations to make, nor from
the point at which I had been hiding had 1
a long distance togo before coming to the
line of defenses. This line was not a con
tinuous embankment, but consisted of short
breastworks and redoubts at no great dis
tance apart, every foot of the intervening
spaces being patrolled by sentinels. I had
resolved to strike the line near its center, or
about midway betwixt the Kingsbridge and
Greenwich roads, and so walked straight
over the meadows, crossing the brook and
feeling my way up the rising ground of the
northern boundary of the great field.
It was not yet dark, but through the
gloom 1 soon made out that I was exactly
in the rt.tr of a redoubt. Retracing my
steps, I worked eastward, then again head- 1
ed north, and this time found myself at the
end of a slight dip of the ground, with forti
fications on the heights at either hand. The
way between appeared unobstructed by
military works, though what guard was
there posted 1 could not guess, and as yet it
was too light to attempt the passage.
Still protecting my primings, I threw
myself on the sodden ground, and in this
fashion lay waiting, while the minutes
dragged and the half hour seemed length
ened to an age. I say half hour, but it might
have been more or less. There was no
sound save the patter of the rain, the dismal
chirrup of a forlorn tree toad, and an oc
casional hail of a guard. Finally, the
gloom grew to dusk, the dusk to darkness,
and that to pitchiness in the tree-shadowed
passage which lay before me. And now 1
girded m.vself for the attempt, fully con
scious that my life and death hung finely
balanced.
I had first thought of crawling through
the line like a snake, belly down, but theilis
tance and nature of the ground made such
a course impossible unless 1 was to take the
whole night to it, and if discovered I would
be taken at a disadvantage. Rising, there
fore, 1 stepped behind a tree, slung my rifle
across my back, and drew my cloak well
about my sword, throwing back the garment
in a manner that left my right arm free.
From this cover I slipped to another and
another, and so onward until 1 found my
self at what I thought to be the edge of a
small clearing beyond, but I could neither
see nor hear aught ahead, a fact causing me
some perplexity. I was debating the
feasibility of advancing boldly and risking
an encounter, or staying until I could locate
the sentinel 1 knew must be near, when to
my right 1 caught the shadow of a man walk
ing across my line of progress. Ae he came
close 1 heard him humming a tune below his
breath, and hoped he would pass on that I
might step over his beat unnoticed. 1 here
was nothing white about me but my face,
and 1 bent it low that it might not betray
me. On he came until he reached the tree
under which 1 was standing, and there halt
ing, leaned his gun against the bole and put
his hand into his pocket, presumably for to
b«eco, for 1 heard him spit forth a quid.
lliy vas within a pace of me, and why he
did t feel my presence I cannot guess. Hut;
I wa» in a predicament, for should he turn :
I was lost. If 1 moved forward or back !
ward I was lost, but if 1 took matters into
my own hand, I might clear the barrier !
with one blow, and with a sudden shifting ;
of my position J tjircw the weight of my j
nerves into my right arm and struck out.
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1899.
My fist took the man fair in the temple.
I douijt if he ever knew what struck him,
for he went down with no other sound than
that occasioned by the fall of his body.
CHAPTER XI.
THE DOVE TAVEIIN.
I had never before and have never since
in cold blood struck violently an unarmed
man. God knows 1 recoiled as I felt the
plates of this fellow's skull give beneath my
fist, and, though I knew my act to be a
righteous one, and that had I been discov
ered I would have had a foot of cold steel in
my vitals, I could not at once overcome the
feeling of having committed murder.
Whether or not the man was a sentinel I
could not tell. The shiftless way of leaning
his gun against a tree and humming made
me doubt it, but it mattered little—he was an
obstacle whose removal was necessary. I
, was fairly sure there was more to overcome
beyond, but resolved to try strategy in pass
ing unless driven to open violence, and even
then my fist should not be my mainstay.
With my temper inflamed, it boded ill for
tl* man who crossed me; with my pulr.es
slow and even, it went against my grain to
spill human blood, especially that of one
doing his duty, and this fact alone would
have made me a poor soldier for the ranks.
Now I unshipped my sword, drew my
cloak about me, and walked on as openly as
though I was an officer of "grand rounds."
It was miserable going. In the darkness I
seemed to find and stub every stone and
shoot into as many brambles as might be
discovered in a ten-acre wood lot. I passed
unchallenged through the shallow ravine,
and was wondering if by chance I had al
ready cleared the lines, when the works of
an advanced redoubt rose against the dim
sky, and at the same instant there came the
ring of a musket and a voice called: "Halt!
Who's there?"
It was not my plan to halt, or answer
either, for that matter. I had located the
voice to the right, but could see no one, and
was fairly sure that only the noise of mv
progress had been marked, and not myself.
Therefore I swung toward the left and hur
ried along as rapidly and silently as I could,
soon having the pleasure of hearing the sen
tinel stumble across my trail some distance
in the rear.
I had now the redoubt to flank, and, as the
woods had been cut down at its front as well
as on either side, there was an open space for
ine to traverse. Here I lowered my dignity
by #i tting onto all-fours, and, holding my
blade betwixt my teeth, I crept slowly on
ward, taking advantage of every stump and
fallen tree as a post to halt and listen. Hut
these latter were none tao frequent, and 1
used at least an hour in getting the few
hundred feet which lay between the works
an»i the abatis protecting them. Having
gained the abatis, I rose and felt my way
through the tangled branches of the felled
timber, making a deal of noise 1 thought,
but finally got past and into the woods be
yond. These woods proved to be but a strip,
and a narrow one at that, for 1 soon came to
a road which served me only in showing my
location, as I knew of one crossing from the
Kingsbridge road to another leading to tike
village of Greenwich.
I was well satisfied with myself and my
progress, considering that the worst was
|jpP| J|
_ Jfcfl
.
"Get away—out of the window."
passed, but my pride underwent a sudden
fall when, as I was putting my leg over the
snake fence, a voice came out of the dark
ness:
"Halt! Who goes there?"
"A friend, but without countersign.
Where are you?" I returned, easily, though
I made a mighty start.
"Then stay where you be, or I fire!"
"Very good! Come to me," I answered,
swinging myself back and retreating to a
tree near by, and from that to another.
It gave me infinite relief to hear the
tramp of a horse, and know the man was a
mounted vidette, and in the course of a few
seconds he went by me to where 1 had an
swered him, though by then I had retreated
along the line of the road and was 40 feet
away. Halting his horse, he again chal
lenged, but, on receiving no answer, fired his
pistol into the woods and began cursing like
a pirate.
1 knew there would be trouble now, and,
indeed, the echo of the shot had scarce died
away when 1 heard galloping coming from
either direction as his fellows hastened to
join him. It would not do for me to linger
in the vicinity, so 1 leaped the fence and
crossed the highway above him, gaining the
op|K>site timber just before another horse
man swept by toward the point of alarm.
At this juncture I thanked my stars for
three things: First, for the wet and black
ness of the night; second, that the lines I
had run wine the third w inner lines, com
paratively illy guarded and but half
manned, established to be used only in case
of the fall of the outer defenses; and, third,
that my present destination lay not beyond
the next obstruction. 1 never would have
dared attempt the passage of the "barrier
gates," as they were called, a strong and
continuous work across the neck of land be
low Fort Washington; and even had this
been possible, the outpost of the British
army at Kingsbridge would have floored
anything without a pass or wings. There,
in the face of the army of Washington, now
but a few miles distant, it would have be
come almost a matter of creeping betwixt
the legs of the sentinels.
I was not possessed with a great curiosity
regarding the outcome of the trouble I had
raised on the road, and got myself away from
its locality as rapidly as was consistent with
rough ground, thickly growing trees and
underbrush and pitchy darkness. I Iclt I was
safe at last, safe from immediate disaster,
and then awoke to the fact that, save from
being warm instcul of cold, I was in about as
miserable a position as any man unhurt and
shaking a free foot could well be. I had eat-
H?i but little during the day, and a man of
iny size and activity soon hungers, though
as yet my hunger had not become a serious
matter. I was drenching, without shelter ,
and without prospect of shelter, and miles
from any possibility of a helping hand. To |
stumbb onward might land me in some difli
culty from which I could not easily recow.
1 was now at a distance from flu* cross road,
and knew not if 1 was bear'ng out of my
line northward or toward ole of the two
great highways, to approach ei'.her of which
was fraught with the greatest danger.
Therefore I determined to settle wh-re I
was until a glimmer of dawn should show me
my way onward. I had no choice of spots,
and so sat me down on the stump 1 had but
just fallen over, and, drawing my cloak
about my head, -jinalated the extremest pa
tience of Job, who, for all his troubles, had
never been beset as was I.
Not for an instant did I nod or cease mj
watchfulness through all the long hours
The rain, noted for its impartiality, seemed
to belie the adage arid focus on me as though
I sat beneath a gargoyle. Toward daylight,
which came none too early, the heat had
gone from my blood, a&u something like a
chill took its place, and with the first sign
of lividness in the clouds above I set out,
more from an instinct toward (light than
from any definite plan. The Dove was my
destination, but it was only to be ap
proached by night, and it was scarce an
hour's walk from where 1 sat. Nothing
could be gained by wandering aimlessly, yet
such was the spirit of flight within me that
even movement partook of the natu.e of
safety, and the loadstone attracting me lay
still to the northward. Toward the north,
then, I turned.
The birds had begun to stir in their nests
and twitter sleepily as 1 came to the edge
of the woods and beheld the checker of farm
fields and woodland from the elevation on
which I was standing, a fine-drawn mist so
blurring the distance that it seemed in
finite. I went on, and by sunrise crossed
the Minetta water, striking westward that
I might get into the wilderness above
Greenwich, reaching that almost primeval
forest toward noon.
But it is useless to follow my old trail here.
I did it years after with great satisfaction to
myself, calling up a cloud of memories that
brought back my lost youth, albeit it
brought (as it does now) a uiist before my
eyes as well. Through that afternoon I
wandered well toward Bloomingdale, and as
the shadows fell, cut eastward near the old
Apthorp mansion and across the wild land
which lies a beautiful waste about the cen
ter of the island. >„Now Central Park.'
I was now close to the Kingsbridge road
again, and not half a mile from the Dove.
The storm hail cleared with the going down
of the sun, leaving the air cool and pleasant,
but, though 1 am a lover of nature and prone
to mark the effect of storm and sunshine, 1
remember little of this evening save that it
was « gorgeous one, witn a moon, something
less than half-grown, swimming in the sky
like a cleft coin.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
FELT OF A MAN-EATER
Tlie Tlirilltiif? ISxperlence of u Illieid
\ative of In<]in tilth A
Wild Tl^er.
This is a story of a blind man who,
unarmed, laid his hand upon a free
tiger and lived, unhurt, to tell the tale;
lived to wish that he were dead. It Is
the most extraordinary adventure
even in the thrilling annals of beast
ridden India.
T he tiger was a man-eater of Mysore,
for which the government had offered
a reward of 500 rupees.
Many were his exploits. He would
bound into a crowd of travelers on the
high road and bear one of them away,
or snatch the driver from the seat of
a creaking bullock cart.
He would even enter villages and
break into huts with great blows of
his powerful paws and drag forth his
prey.
There was a poor Dher, a low-caste
man, who was not allowed to live in
tTie village, but dwelt with his wife
and baby in a low hut on its outskirts.
He was poor, extremely poor, arJH
blind.
One night Ibis man was waked by a
strange shuffling, snuffling noise in the
hut.
Upon the nameless odors of an In
dian interior two new smells impressed
themselves, lie knew wbat they meant
later.
The man called; nb voice answered.
Night was as day in his sightless eyes.
He crawled about the hut with a blind
man's noiseless step, feeling his way
with tremulous extended hand.
He neared the corner of the hut,
where his wife lay, prone upon the
floor, and stooped. Wrist deep his
inquiring hand thrust itself into deep
fur,
In a flash he knew; he had heard and
;melled the tiger in his hut; had
punched the great man-eater's ribs. He
waited for death.
One startled instant the tiger waited,
then bounded from the but, quick to
suspect danger in the blind man's ap
parently bold advance, leaving tlie man
unscathed.
The Dher was left alone. Lower he
stooped, until his hands rested upon
the lifeless forms of bis wife and child;
were dabbled with the red blood that
gushzd from their mangled bodies
where the great brute's noiseless paw
1-ad fallen. —Wide World Magazine, '
A Charitable <«lrl.
"Miss Cutting." began young Soft
Isigh. "foh some time I—aw1 —aw have been
sewousiy thinking, doneher know, and
as a svesult, I —aw have half a mind—"
"Well," interrupted Miss Cutting,
"that is more than any of your ac
quaintances credit you with, but I'll
be real charitable and concede you that
much; so pray say no more about it."—
Chicago Daily News.
I.vrity.
Here the lecturer grew earnest.
"I am com ineed." he exclaimed, "that
the woman who does her own cooking is
ioore likely to find a place among the
angels than the woman whodoeso't."
Now a voice obtruded itself harshly
"If she cooks with gasoline," said the
voice.—Boston Journal.
Wanted u Trustful Public.
Reformer—But don't you think tha: '
I üblie office should be a public trusl ?
Statesman —Why. certainly! 1 don't
believe in investigation committees, or
anything like that! l'ucl:
Gnvi Ih'i'xrll Anay.
"When did they discover that the bur
glar was a woman?"
"When she looked in the glass
if her mask wason straight." -Tit-Bit*
if 100 Jlcn-nri SIOO.
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Stubb—The Shamrock has three leaves, ;
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Penn —Yes. It left England, it left Amer- i
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Somehow baldness is far more contagious
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How long have you p|"Cgl If IT 1 0
suffered with . .. RfL'LUrllfll idlfl ■
#How L«ng Have You Read About "3 Drops" Without Taking Them?
I)o yon not think you have wasted precious time and suffered enough? If
so. then try the *'s Drops" atid be promptly and permanently cured of
your afflictions. 44 5 Drops" is a speedy and Sure Cure for Rheumatism,
Neuralgia, .Sciatica, Lumbago (lame back), Kidney Diseases, Asthma*
Hay Fever, Dyspepsia, Catarrh of all kinds. Bronchitis, La Grippe,
headache (nervous or neuralgic). Heart Weakness, Dropsy, Rarache,
Spasmodic and Catarrhal Croup, Toothache, Nervousness, Sleeplessness,
Creeping Numbness, Malaria, and kindred diseases. "5 Drops" has cured
(TRADE MARK.J more people during the past four years, of the above-named diseases, than
all other remedies known, and in case of Rheumatism is curing more than
all the doctors, patent medicines,electric belts and batteries combined, for they can not cure Chronic
Rheumatism. Therefore waste no more valuable time and money, but try "5 Drops" and be
promptly CURED. "5 Drops" is not only the best medicine, but it is the cheapest, for a SI.OO bottle
contains 300 doses. Price i>er bottle, SI.OO, prepaid by mail or express, or 6 l>ottles for $5.00. For
the next 30 days we will send a 25c sample FREE to anyone sending* 30 cents to pay for the
mailing. Agents wanted. Write to-day.
SWANSON RHEUMATIC CURE CO., I6Q-164 E. LAKE ST., CHICACO.
er" she has ever found is the new and original
method by which J. C. Hubinger is introducing' his latest invention, "Red Cross"
and " Hubinper's Best" starch. She says: With your Endless Chain Starch
Book, I received from my grocer one large package of " Red Cross" starch,
one large package of "Hubinger's Best" starch, and two beautiful Shakespearo
panels, all for sc. How far my dollar will lam unable to figure out. Ask
your {rrocc-for this starch and obtain the beautiful Christmas presents free.
1 1 iftJN |
! ? gyp, (
5,000 GUITARS AT~52.65
{ « THIS ELEGANT GUITAR J
/ This Guitar is made con C"5 rz \
S «112 of the finest imita- rt>K 3>£.05 r
/ M manogany with jj c morGi no ] ngSi than 5,000 of them, C
/ gja either solid rosewood probably tho largest contract in guitars J
112 gig or walnut finger- ever made —an instrument that posi- J
> Si hm-d neirl inl-iirt tivelsr sells from $3.50 to $7.00. When this /
> ha D°aro, peaii iniaia lot Jr exhau3te( J wo cilnnot duplicate \
v (jjjsj position dots and this oiler. Quantity talks. Only by oper- ?
112 k3 German silver raised atiug on gucli a scale, together with \
\ ft'rl itliKfinruln. our well-known small profit policy, could T
I i J tanc X m such an offering be possible. Another >
j lay around sound reason for dispensing such a bargain }
/ hole and best quality broadcast is tho confiacnco wo feel that S
J ifflP-r.V/ American rn.lv nt every guitar sold will win for us a per- S
/ American patent mancnt patron and a friend whoso /
v • ( ncaas; tne top ot recommendation wo can count upon. Wo \
$ Guitar is beautifully will forward tho guitar to any address /
? bound with celluloid} >
j EL* "i » SisSl I" r* \* 13 strung with a cash In full bo sent, as that saves return (
\ full set of best quality charges for money and wo stand per- j
I »■•,••• ' : 'V'AkiMj steel snrinps and is feet ly ready to refund money if the \
\ QL- k». ">w J -prmps ana is guitar is uotall and moro than we claim /
I % VJ? reacy to play upon. for it. Itememberour fag* e:- iaa \
? ggjg I
/ which.is listed at lowest wholesale prices )
5 '§ iX FAwk.!p 'J £ i over y thln § eat w °sr and use.is furnish; j
\ trW.ed on receipt cf only iO? to partly, pay c
I orexoressage and a.s evidence )
) LjfaWfSa g{j cjja <,y|of good faith the 10? is allowed on first s
\ ' P urc ' lase arr,our| to 5199 or above. \
? ni OUR MONTfTLY~6IioCKfiY PRICE LIST rßLlfin S
CHEAT
ROCK ISLAND
SSOUTE
COW RATES ON OUR PERSONALLY CON
DUCTED EXCURSIONS IN PULLMAN
TOURIST SLEEPERS.
Scenic Route leaves Chicago every Thurr.day
via Colorado Springs and Salt Lake to California
and Pacific Coast Points.
Southern Route leaves Chicago every Tuesday
via Kansas City, Ft. Worth and El Paso to Los
Angeles and San Francisco.
These Tourist Cars of latest pattern are at
tached to Fast Passenger TraF/is, and their
popularity Is evidence that we olfer the best.
For full Information and free literature address
JOHN SEBASTIAN, G. P. A., Chicago.
PlTr y T Q Advice a* to patentability and inventor*' guide '
In I LII I 0 freo. S. U. KVANS. 10101', Washington, D. O.
ON THE
KIDNEYS, LIVER
AND BOWELS
/•LEANSES THE SYSTEM
I „ .^EFFECTUALLY
D'¥r
C °WnEAO^ fe VEP!
OVERCOMES V/rf&
HAB.tuaIC^ST'PAT.ON
UMU PERMANENTLY
,TS e FFE cts
BUY THE GENUINE - M INT O By
(AlifvRNIA pG
fCft SAU By AU ywa. 50c (tR BOTUL
ESTABLISH A
HOME OF
YOUR OWN
Read "The Corn Belt," a handsome
monthly paper, beautifully illustrated,
containing exact and truthful informa
tion about farm lands in the West,
letters from farmers and pictures of
their homes, barns and stock. Inter
esting and instructive. Send 25 cents
in postage stamps for a year's sub
scription to"THE CORN BELT," 209
Adams St., Chicago.
Top Snap iffeS TACKLE
('■l nnlrliJ fad SI'ORTBMK.VS SUPPLIES
IE-1\ PSrafl I'll RAWm th» RL-r.w HEM
DouulO W CLM B BCD Xi . s 'nd nt«mp for cat&logue
jlre«h $q « RjS BS IPOWELL & CLEMENT CO.
A. N. K. C 1788 __
CIRTEtfSINK
Has a pood deep color and
due* not struiu the eyes*