6 SYMPATHY. Now the storm, It's fury o'er. Vain would lull the waves to rest. Loudly beating on the shore, As a wild bird beats Its breast; Through a hedge of rugged clouds, Gropes the moon her lonely way; 'Twlxt the thicket peering far, Her« and there a little star— Whercsoc'er perplexity Valt the touch of sympathy. Sentinels, in black and gray. Dark the distant mountains loom, Ti«es their leafless branches sway, Oftm guardians of the gloom; Hunh, the while, within their arms. Any night-belated bird. To whose twitter of content Winds are moaning sad assent, In all earth's perplexity. Things of earth give sympathy! In the hush of silent grief. Angels bend their heads to hear; In the hour of unbelief. God is drawing very near. And, by passion, tcmpest-toss'd, "He was tempted like as we." Deep in our Gethsemane— Suffering on our Calvary— In all man's preplexlty, God and H<aven give sympathy! —Gertrude Eleanor Van Pelt, in N. Y. Observer. (Copyright, 1897, by F Tennyson Neeiy.] CHAPTER V.—CONTINUED. "What on earth does John Folsom want of a housekeeper?" asked the helpmates of his friends at Fort Em ory, and in the busy, bustling town. "Why don't he marry again?" queried those who would gladly have seen some unprovided sister, niece or daughter thus cozily disposed of. It was years cino* Elinor's mother's dentil, and yet John Folsom seemed to mourn her as fondly as ever, and except in midwin ter, barely a month went by in which he did not make his pilgrimage to her never-neglected grave. Yet, despite his vigorous years in saddle, sunshine or storm, and his thorough love for outdoor life, Folsom, now well over 50; could no longer so lightly bear the hard life of the field. He was amazed to see how his sleepless dash to head'off Red Cloud and his days and nights of gallop back had told upon him. Wom en at Fort Emory who looked l with ap proving eyes on his ruddy face and trim, erect figure, all so eloquent of health, and who possibly contemplated, too, his solid bank account, and that fast-building house, the finest in Gate City, had been telling him all winter long he ought to have a companion— an elder guide for Miss Elinor 011 her return; he ought to have some one to preside at his table; and honest John had promptly answered: "Why, Nell will do all that," which necessitated their hinting that although -Miss Fol ■om would be a young lady in years, •he was only a child in experience, and would be much the better for some one who could take a mother's place. "No one could do that," said John, with sudden swimming of his eyes, and that put a sudden stop to their schemings, for the time at least, but only for the time. Taking counsel together, and thinking how lovely it would be now if Mr. Folsom would only see how much there was in this unmarried damsel, or that widtowed dame, the coterie at Em ory again returned to the subject, un til John, in his perplexity, got the idea that propriety demanded that he aliould have a housekeeper against his daughter's coming, and then he did go and do, in his masculine stupidity, just exactly what they wouldu't have had him do for world's —invite a woman, of whom none of their number had ever heard, to come from Omaha and take the domestic management of and home. All he knew of her was what he heard there, She was the widow of a volunteer officer who had died of disease contracted during the war. She was childless, almost desti tute, accomplished, and so devoted to her church duties. She was interest ing and refined' and highly educated. He heard the eulogiums pronounced by the good priest and some of his flock, and Mrs. Fletcher, a substantial person of some 40 years at least, was duly installed. Fort Emory was filled with women (oik and consternation —most of the men being afield. The seething ques tion of the hour was whether they should call on her, whether she was to be received at the fort, whether she was to be acknowledged and recognized at all, and then came, mirabile dictu, a great government official from Wash ington to inspect the Union Pacific and make speeches at various points along the road, and Mrs. Fletcher, mind you, walked to church the very next Sunday on the honorable secre tary's arm, sat by his side when hedrove out to hear the band at Emory and re ceived with him on the colonel's veran da, and that settled it. Received and acknowledged) and visited she had to be. She might well prove a woman worth knowing. Within a fortnight she had made the new homestead blossom like the rose. Within a month everything was in per fect order for the reception of Elinor and her school friend- —a busy, anxious month, in which Folsom was flitting to and fro to Reno and Frayne, as we have seen; to Hal's ranch in the Medicine Bow, to Rawhide and Laramie, and the reservations in northwestern Nebras ka; and it so happened that he was away the night Maj. Burleigh, on his way to the depot, dropped into inquire Jf he could' see Mr. Folsom a moment on Important business. The servant said he was not in town—had gone, she thought, to Omaha. She would inquire «112 Mrs. Fletcher, and meantime would the major step inside? Step inside, and stand wonderingly at the threshold of the pretty parlor, he did; and then there was a rustle of silken skirts on the floor above, and as he turned to listen his haggard, careworn face took on a look something like that which overspread it the night he got the let ter at Reno —something that told of be wilderment and perplexity, as a quiet, modulated voice told the servant to tell the gentleman Mr. Folsom might not return for several days. Burleigh had no excuse to linger, none to ask to heaf that voice again; yet as he slowly de scended the steps its accents were still strangely ringing in his ears. Where on earth had he heard that voice be fore? CHAPTER VI. The quartermaster's depot at Gate City was little more than a big corral, with a double row of low wooden sheds for the storing of clothing, camp and garrison equipage. There was a black smith and wagon repair shop, and a brick office building. Some cottage quarters for the officer in charge and his clerks, corral masiter, etc., stood close at hand, while most of the em ployes lived in town outside the gates. A single-track spur connected the de pot with the main line of the Union Pacific, only 500 yards away, and the command at Fort Emory, 011 the bluff above the rapid stream, furnished, much to its disgust, the necessary guards A much bigger "plant" was in contemplation near a larger post and town on the east side of the great di vide, and neither Fort Emory nor its charge—the quartermaster's depot— was considered worth keeping in re ]Kiir, except such as could be accom plished "by the labor of troops," which was why, when he wasn't fighting In dians, the frontier soldier of that day was mainly occupied in doing the odd jobs of a day laborer, without the rec ompense of one, or his privilege of quit ting if he didn't like the job. That he should know little of drill and less of parade was, therefore, not to be won dered at. But what he didn't know about guard duty was hardly worth knowing. He had prisoners and property of every conceivable kind lndians, horse thieves, thugs and deserters, maga zines and medicines, mules and muni tions of war. Everything had to be guarded. The fort lay a mile to the west of and 200 feet higher than the railway hotel in the heart of the town. It looked down upon the self-styled city, and most of its womenkind did the same on the citizens, who were, it must be owned, a rather mixed" lot. The sudden discovery of gold in the neigh boring foothills, the fact that it prom ised to be the site of the division car shops and roundhouse, that the trails to the Upper Platte, the Sweetwater, the park country to the south and the rich game regions of the Medicine Bow all centered there, and that stages left no less than twice a week for some of those points, and the whole land was alive with explorers for a hundred miles around—all had tended to give Gate City «. remarkable boom. Chey enne and Laramie, thriving frontier towns, with coroners' offices in full blast from one week's end to the other, and a double force on duty Sundays, confessed to and exhibited pardonable jealousy. Yet there was wisdom in the warning of an old friend and' fellow frontiersman, who said to Folsom: "You are throwing yourself and your money away, John. There's nothing in those gold stories, there's nothing in that yawp about the machine shops; all those yarns were started' by U. P. fellows with corner lots to sell. The bottom will drop out of that place in side of a year and leave you stranded." All the same had Folsom bought big blocks and built his home there. Itwas the nearest town of promise to Hal Folsom's wild but beautiful home in the hills, and, almost as he loved Nell, his bonny daughter, did the old trader love his stalwart son. Born a wild westerner, reared among the Sioux with only Indians or army boys for playmates, and precious little choice in point of savagery between them, lial had grown up a natural horseman with a love for and knowledge of the animal that is accorded to few. His ambition in life was to own a stock farm. All the education he had had in the world he owed to the kindness of loving-hearted army women at Lara mie, women who befriended him when well-nigh broken-hearted by his mother's death. Early he had pitched his tent on the very spot for a ranch man's homestead, early he had fallen in love with an army girl, who married the strapping frontiersman and was now the proud mistress of the promis ing stock farm nestling in the valley of the Laramie, a devoted wife and mother. The weekly stage to the rail way was the event of their placid days except when some of the officers wotild come from either of the neighboring posts and spend a week with her and Hal. From being a delicate, consump tive child, Mrs. Hal had developed into a buxom woman with exuberant health and spirits. Life to her might have some little monotony, but few cares; many placid joys, but only one great dread—lndians. John Folsom, her fond father-in-law, was a man all the Indians trusted and most of them loved. Hal Folsom, her husband, had many a trusted and devoted friend among the Sioux, but he had also ene mies, and Indian enmity, like Indian love, dies hard. As boy he had some times triumphed in games and sports over the champions of the villages. As youth he had more than once found favor in the dark eyes that looked coldly on fiercer, fonder claimants, and one girl of the Ogallallas had turned from her kith and kin nnd spurned more than one red lover to seek the young trader when he left the reservation to build his own nest in the Medicine Bow, and they told a story as pathetic as that of the favor ite daughter of eld Sintogaliska, chief CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 20, 1900. of the Brule Sioux, who pined and died at Laramie when she heard that the soldier she loved had come back from the far east with a pale-faced bride. There were red men of the Ogallallas to whom the name of Hal Folsom wa3 a taunt and an insult to this day, men whom his father had vainly sought to appease, and they were Burning Star, the lover, and two younger braves, the brothers of the girl they swore that Ilal had lured away. South of the Platte as it rolled past Frayne and Laramie, those Indians were bound by treaty not togo. North of the Platte Hal Folsom was warned never again to venture. These were the stories which were well known to the parents of the girl he wooed and won, but which probably were not ful ly explained to her. Now, even behind the curtain of that sheltering river, with its flanking forts, even behind the barrier of the mountains of the Medi-' cine Bow, she often woke at night and clutched her baby to her breast when the yelping of the coyotes came rising on the wind. There was no woman in Wyoming to whom war with Red Cloud's people bore such dread possi bility as to Hal Folsom's wife. And so when Marshall Dean came riding in one glad June morning, bronzed, and tanned and buoyant, and tossed his reins to llie orderly who trotted at his heels, while the troops dismounted and watered at the stream, Mrs. Folsom's heart was glad dened by his confident and joyous bearing. Twice, thrice he had seen Red Cloud and all his braves, and there was nothing, said he, to worry about. "Ugly, of course they are; got some imaginary grievance and talk big «bout the warpath. Why, what show would those fellows have with their old squirrel rifles and gas-pipe Springfields against our new breech loaders? They know it as well as we do. It's all a bluff, Mrs. Folsom. You mark my words," said he, and really the boy believed it. Frequent contact in the field with the red warriors in spires one with little respect for their skill or prowess until that contact becomes hostile, then it's time to keep every sense on guard and leave no point uncovered. "But what if the Indian bureau should let them have breech-loaders?" she anxiously asked. "You know that is Red Cloud's demand." "Oh." said Dean, with confidence born of inexperience in the bureau ways, "they wouldn't be such fools. Be " Not even her picture?" sides, if they do," he added hopefully, "you'll see my troops come trotting back full tilt. Now, I'm counting on a good time at Emory, and 011 bringing your sister and mine up here to see you." "It will be just lovely," said Mrs. Hal, with a woman's natural but un spoken comparison between the sim plicity of her ranch toilet and the probable elegancies of the young la dies' eastern costumes. "They'll find us very primitive up here in the moun tains, I'm afraid 1 ; but if they like scenery and horseback riding and fish ing. there's nothing like it." "Oh, they're coming sure. Jessie's letter tells me that's one of the big treats Mr. Folsom has promised them. Just think, they should be along tliig week, and I shall be stationed so near them at Emory—of all places in the world." "How long is it since you have seen Elinor—'Pappoose,' as your sister calls her," asked Mrs. Hal, following the train of womanly thought then drifting through her head, as she set before her visitor a brimming goblet of buttermilk. "Two years. She was at the Point a day or two the summer of our grad uation," he answered, carelessly. "A real little Indian girl she was, too, so dark and shy and silent, yet I heard Prof. M 's daughter and others speak of her later; she pleased them so much, and Jessie thinks there's no girl like her." "And you haven't seen her since— not even her picture?" asked Mrs. Ilal. rising from her easy-chair. "Just let me show you one she sent Hal last week. I think there's a surprise in store for you, young man,"was her mental addition as she tripped within doors. The nurse girl, a half-breed, one of the numerous progeny of the French trappers and explorers who had mar ried among the Sioux, was hushing the burly little son and heir to sleep in his Indian cradle, crooning some ' song about the fireflies and Ileecha, the big-eyed owl, and the mother stooped to press her lips upon the rounded cheek and to flick away a tear-drop, for Hal second had roared lustily when ordered to his noonday nap. Away to the northward the heavily wooded heights seemed tipped by fleecy, summer clouds, and off to the northeast Laramie Peak thrust his dense crop of pine and scrub oak above the mass of snowy vapor that floated lazily across that grim-visaged southward scarp. The drowsy hum of insects, the plash of cool, running wa ters fell softly on the ear. Under the •hade of willow and cottonwood catt4e and horses were lazily switching at the swarm of gnats and flies or dozing through the heated hours of the day Out 011 the level flat beyond the cor ral the troopers had Bus»»Wed, and the chargers, many of them stopping to roll in equine ecstasy upon the turf, were being driven out in one big herd to graze. Without and within the ranch everything seemed to speak of peace and security. The master rode the range long miles away in search 01 straying cattle, leaving his loved ones without thought of danger. The solemn treaty that bound the Sioux to keep to the north of the Platte stood sole sentinel over his vine and fig tree. True there had been one or two instances of depredation, but they could be fastened on no particu lar band, and all the chiefs, even defi ant Red Cloud and insolent, swag gering Little Big Man, denied all knowledge of the perpetrators. Spot ted Tail, it was known, would severe ly punish any of his people who trans gressed, but he could do nothing with the Ogallallas. Now they were not 200 miles away to the north, their ranks swollen by accessions from all the disaffected villages and turbulent young braves of the swarming bands along the Missouri and Yellowstone, and if their'demands were resisted by the government, or worse, if they were permitted to have breech-loaders or magazine rifles, then just coming into use, no shadow of doubt remained that war to the knife would follow. Then how long would it be before they came charging down across the Platte, east or west of Frayne, and) raiding those new ranches in the Laramie valley? [To Be Continued.] An Kpltnph That Failed. A Louisville wit goes to church, or did goto church, where a prominent member of the congregation who had a pew close by used to slumber through the entire service. When the text was given out he nodded, and by the time the pastor got a good start he was ob livious of everything until the pastor woke him up. After awhile the man died, and one day shortly afterward one of the friends of the family came to the wit and said: "See here, old boy, I do'Yit pretend to be smart and up-to date like you, but Blank's wife has sent for me and asked me to arrange about the inscription on her husband's mon ument. She wants something short and appropriate, and over this she is going to have his name and the date of his birth and death. I'm the last per son in the world to undertake such a job, so I thought you might help me out." "Why, with pleasure," said the joker, and his grin should have warned the caller, but it didn't. Taking out a pencil and notebook, the fiend wrote a line or two and handed it over. "See how you like it,"he said, and as the ap licant read the lines they ran as fol lows: "George Blank, born , died ," and then below "Asleep (as usual)." You can bet your dear, sweet life that inscription was never shown to the widow.—Louisville Times. Slip* of the Tongue. It is an invariable rule that mem bers of the house of commons must address their remarks to the house through the chair, and, though in the flow of argument an orator is often al lowed, without remonstrance, to use the second personal plural in admon ishing his opponents, the first words are always addressed to the occupant of the cnair. This, like many other rules of debate, has percolated from the house of commons down to all our minor assemblies, and the consequence is that few members find any difficul ty in complying with the custom. Not infrequently, however, ruling hab its prevail, and a new member invol untarily discloses the nature of the assembly to which he has oeen accus tomed. In a debate on the Irish land bill in 1894, Mr. Kenny, an Irish Q. C., convulsed the house by addressing Mr. Speaker as "My lord." Mr. Powell Williams, in the same parliament, saluted him as "Mr. Mayor," and an effervescent Irishman, Mr. Bodkin, astonished the speaker by giving him the dignity of "Your reverence."— Gentleman's Magazine. _ A I.ong-ltunge Duel. Gen Botha, tho famous Boer com mander, once fought something like a duel with Wools Sampson, who will bfe remembered as a reiorm prisoner, During the Boer war of 1881 Mr. Sampson, on the British side, andi Bo tha, on the Dutch, during an outpost skirmish,, potted, at one another from behind stones. Sampson thought he hit Botha, and raised' his head' above the stone, only to find himself hit in the neck. That was one to Botha, who jumped' up elated'. Sampson a{ once dropped him. "Got him!" said Sampson, and' rained l himself to look. "Got him!" saidl Botha, a» he put a bullet into his adversary's side; but he showed' himself too soon, for Samp son brought the score to evens. Iq lkter years they yarned about this oc currence over drinks in Johannesburg. —Collier's Weekly. Run* In the Family. A young gentleman took his little sister with him while calling the otl»r evening at a house where he is a reg ular visitor. The little girl made her self quite at home and showed great fondness for one of the young ladies, hugping her heartily. "How very affectionate she is!" said the lady of the house. "Yes; so like her brother," respond ed the young lady, unthinkingly.—Buf falo Courier. The Hocket. The first locomotive engine which proved a practical success was pro duced by the two Stephensons, nnd was called' the Rocket. In October, 1829, it received the prize offered by the directors of the Liverpool & Man. Chester railroad', and the question as to the superiority of the locomotive steam engine as a motive power was i then settled.—Detroit Free Press. WANTS TO BE FREE. Mrs. Mary E. Lease Seeks Divorce from Her Husband. She Ileitan Married Life at llif Waih tub and Afterward Supported Her r'uniily liy Mnklnif Po litical speeclie». The Wichita (Kan.) correspondent of tlie Chicago Tribune says that di vorce proceeding's have been instituted by Mrs. Mary li. Lease 011 grounds of non-support. It is understood her hus band will make no contest. Mr. and Mrs. Lease were married in poverty and lived in that condition un til Mrs. Lease became a politician. Lease was a plodder. His wife was am bitious. He believed a woman's place was at home. She might have agreed with him if her home had been less lowly. It was difficult to make ends meet in a Wichita grocery store, but when there were four children in the family, and the income remained the same, Mrs. Lease was forced to th® washtub to keep her little ones from actual want. She objected to this sort of thing, and determined to make a change. She borrowed books and stud ied at night by candle light. Her hus band protested. Then domestic trouble commenced. At that time Kansas was the center of the union labor craze. Mrs. Lease, who had been poring over tales of the French revolution, decided that the people of Kansas were in as bad a fix as were the French. She began to pic ture in her mind scenes of carnage on the prairies of the Sunflower state. One day, while going' home from work, she stepped into a doorway for protection from a shower. A labor meeting was in progress in the hall. She was in vited to speak. She accepted the in vitation and surprised the crowd as well as herself. The crowd was enthusias tic over her eloquence and took up a collection of six dollars for her. She started home in the rain, and (topped at the store where her hu»- MRS. MARY E. LEASE. (Kansas Woman Orator Who Seeks a Sep aration from Her Husband.) band worked. An old umbrella was standing near the door. She picked it up and said she would send it back by one of the children. Lease said to her: "Put it down. It doesn't belong to you, and you have no business with it." Relating the circumstance to a Topeka friend lately Mrs. Lease said: "I put the umbrella down and left the store in a pouring rain. As I was passing the store of one of my friends, who knew of the struggle for bread which I had experienced, the door was opened by the proprietor, who called me in and gave me from the rack near the dooi the first umbrella I ever owned. ] was not able to do the work at home, much less run out in the rain for sup plies, and this evidence of cruelty on the part of my husband turned me against him. We did not speak to each other for months after that, and in later years lived in the sar. e house without exchanging a word with each other." Mrs. Lease gave up her washtub busi ness and began to work as an org-anizei for the union labor people. Then she took up the farmers' alliance cause, and in 1892 became a populist. After serving two years as president of the Kansas board of charities she went on the lecture platform and began to write for newspapers and magazines. Mrs. Lease began to direct the af fairs of the household the day after she delivered the labor speech. She has been making good money ever since. She has educated her children and given them an opportunity to dress well and see the world. Charles and Louise are grown, and Ben Hur and Mary are in school. Mrs. Lease has a comfortable home in New York, which is always open toKansans. Mr. Lease took a fresh start when his wife began to do business for her self. He went from a grocery store to a drug store of his own. He does busi ness in Wichita and lias some money invested in real estate. He still plods and lias never forgiven his wife for going into politics, although he ad mits her scheme has proved a good thing for the children. Mr. Lease has known for a long time that his wife would sue for divorce, for she told him two years ago that she would not live with him again. She lately told a Topeka friend that she had no intention of remarrying, and gave as a reason for obtaining a divorce that by her own efforts she had made herself independent and did not care to be hampered further by a husband. Ilnlldlllß from Top Down. A 15-story skyscraper in New York city is under construction from the top downward. The granite walls of th*> upper five stories are practically complete, while all below is a skeleton of girders and trusses. I iilfrnoeful lint Healthy. According to recent medical advices yawning is a healthful exercise. It is said to Im* excellent when one ic af« dieted with a sore throat. WHY MRS. PINKHAM is Ablo to Help Sirk Women! When Doctors Fail. How gladly would men fly to wo man's aid did they but understand a woman's feeling's, trials, sensibilities, and peculiar organic disturbances. Those things are known only to women, and the aid a man would give is not at his command. To treat a case properly it is neces sary to know all about it, and full information, many times, cannot Ik; given by a woman to her family phy- Mns. G. 11. Ciiappell. sician. She cannot bring herself to tell everything, and the physician is at a constant disadvantage. This is why, for the past twenty-five years, thousands of women have been con fiding their troubles to Mrs. Pinkham, and whose advice has brought happi ness and health to countless women in the United States. Mrs. Chappell, of Grant Park, 111., whose portrait we publish, ad vises all suffering women to seek Mrs. Pink ham's advice and use Lydia E. Pink ham's Vegetable Compound, as they cured her of inflammation of the ovaries and womb ; she, therefore, speaks from knowledge, and her experience ought to give others confidence. Mrs. Pink ham's address is Lynn, Mass., and her advice is absolutely free. SWOLLEN FEET and hands usually indicate an ad vanced stage of Kidney disorder. It is one of the last special pleadings of na ture to seek a remedy. Look out also for backache, scalding urine, dizziness, headache and brick-dust or other sedi ment in urine which has been allowed to stand. Heed these warnings before it is too late. MORROW'S KID-NE-QIDS *re guaranteed under oath to be the best remedy in existance lor Bright's Disease or any other form of Kidney Trouble. A cash forfeit is offered for any case Kid-ne-oids will not cure. OHIO AXO PENNSYLVANIA / I'toplf rured l>y KID-NE-OIDS. In writing them, please enrlone stamped addressed envelope. Mr. .Itt'ne.H A. Kinney. 242 W. Wheeling St., Lancas* ter, O. C. 11. Stonier. 3fi2 Main St.. Mansillon. O. Mr<*. Lena Sturgls. 54 W. Main St.. ManslPon, O. Mr. K. K. Kvnmn, 314 Broadway. Lorain. O. Mrs*. Mary \Vatters, 325 South St., Steubenvllle. O. Cant. John Kuritfht, *»ls Michigan St.. Toledo. O. Rev. 11. N. MlnnTgli, M. K. Church. Altoona. I'a. Mr*. Ja*. C.Thomas. 1008 LuFayette St.. Scranton, Pn. Ernoftt B. Bowers.2l N.Shaniokiu St.. Shaniokiu. Pa. Mr. <;. It. Cainpman. 41 River St.. Sharon. Pa. A. L. Conn, 233 W. Edwin St.. Willlamsport, Pa. Morrow's Kid-ne-oids are not pills, but Yellow Tablets and sell at fifty cents a box at drug stores. JOHN MOHhOW ACO., SPRINGFIELD. O. WW M ** UNION MADE The real worth of W. I Douglas g:i.OO and ■ •:«.SO Hhoen compared gfc - —. jq with other makes lg Egk «jj #4.00 to 55.00. F7 71 ' Our S4 Gilt Kdfiro tine fix cannot be equalled at Aw?*Bß r any price. Over 1,000,- 000 satisfied wearers. iyugjlf i jB USE Ona pair of W. t. Dougla BFAST COLof?? S3 or $3.50 shoes wll ffl cYELFTf vX positively outwear We are the largest makers of men's S3 and S3-50 shoes In the world. We make and sell more 83 and 53.50 shoes than any other two manufacturers In the U* a> The reputation of W. L. nrOT Douglas $3.00 and s.'{.so shoes for nrnj DIOI style, comfort, and wear io known DCOI everywhere throughout the world. AQ PA They hare to id** better satislac- AO fill CpOiQU tion than other makes because vpO«UU the standard hns always been OUnC placed so high that the weareis Oil HP GnULa expect more for their money -OflUCa than they can get elsewhere. TIIK IC i; ASI)\ mom W. L. Douglu. »1 and ».lio ■hoes are sold than any other make is because 'l'll K V AUE THE IIKST. Your dealer should keep them i we give one dealer exclusive sale in each town. Take no suhstltute! Insist on having W. L. Douglas shoes with name and price stamped on bottom. ' If your dealer will not get them for you, send direct to factory, enclosing price and 25c. extra for carriage. Btate kind of leather, aire, and width, plain or cap toe. Our shoes will reach you anywhere. Catalogue tree, , W- JL. JUouglas Shoe Co, Urockton, Musi. A Handkerchief Bargain: ' Just to make tho purchasing public get acquainted , with us—our quick methods—our goods—we offer aa a le»der tbU | a j| C S' HCBStltelCg PBPC i iiaen iiaen Handkerchief; ' Of genuine Irish • J? V witha half inch hem,suit -1 4/ \Sh x. *hle for everyday service ' I jT 112 vXih/j and especially appropri- < i 1 \K Jfjf' / 111<c. Each. 6 for 60c. 1 »J\\ y'jML/ llt 2 12 for sl.lO. | J, 0 ™ (I)oz. beautifully boxed.) 1 , Paid Sent, postpaid. ( » Send for our Catalogue- full of helpful holiday i i hints—yours for the asking. Tells allaboui the prompt < , service aud splendid values at the i I New York Mali-Order Store, JH-H8 B'way, New York
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