6
THE PESSIMIST AND FAT&,
Re's in love with Despair!
When a day is fair
It makes him pad;
His Joy is to prate
Of the ills he's had—
Of the means that Fate
Is ever taking to raise the bad
„nd trample the good beneath her feet—
Woe Is his joy, his drink, his meat!
He staked his all, one day.
And didn't lose;
Sut he went around in a mournful way.
With the blues!
•"You might have been dragged to the
depths," men said,
"'And yet you were favored as never be
fore!"
But be sighed
And shook his head:
"Had Fate been fair." he sadly replied,
"I might have had much more!''
His child lay white and wan,
And he sat in the dark,
Moaning that hope was gone,
That Fate had singled him for her
mark!
But the little one sings
And her laughter rings
Through the halls to-day.
Yet he grieves away.
For still
There's Fate and the doctor's bill!
—B. E. Kiser. in Chicago Times-Herald.
B»iC>AT>IE.n rl V»
GEfIEPAL IT n 1 n
$ I
iCopyright, 1897. by F Tennyson Neeiy]
CHAPTER VIII.
Obedient to his orders the Irish
sergeant, with a little squad at his
heels, had kept straight on. A few
minutes later, rounding the bluff at
the gallop, eyes flashing over the field
in front of them, the party went rac
ing out over the turf and came in
full view of the scene of the fight.
Five hundred yards further down
stream was a deep bend in the Lar
amie. Close to the water's edge two
horses lay stretched upon the ground,
stone dead. Out on the open prairie
lay an Indian pony still kicking in his
<lying agony, and as the soldiers came
•sweeping into view two men rose up
from behind the low bank of the
stream and swung their hats —Hal
Folsom and one of his hands safe,
tin wounded, yet with a look in their
gray faces that told of recent mortal
peril.
"We're all right! Goon after them.
They've run off a dozen of my best
horses." said Folsom, "and I'm afraid
"they cut off .. nkc."
"No! Jake reached the ranch all
right—leastwise somebody did," said
Shaughnessy. "That's how we got the
news. They got somebody, or else
they were only bluffing when they
waved that scalp. How many were
i.iere?"
"At least a dozen —too many for
you to tackle. Where's the r«st of the
troop?"
"Close at their heels. The lietiten
ont led them right over the ridge.
Listen!"
Yes, far up in the foothills, faint
and clear, the sounds of the c'aase
could now be heard. Dean's men were
closing on the fleeing warriors, for
every little while the silence of the
range was broken by the crack of
rifle or carbine. Shaughnessy's fel
lows began to fidget and look eager
ly thither, and he read their wish.
•"Two of you stay with Mr. Folsom,"
he said, "and the rest come with me.
There's nothing we can do here, is
there? Sure you're not hit?"
"No. goon! Give 'em hell and get
back my horses. I'd go with you, but
they've killed what horses they
•couldn't drive. All safe at the ranch?"
Shauglinessy nodded as he spurred
away. "We'll be gettin' the lieuten
ant. a brevet for this," said he, "if
we can only close up with those black
guards." And these were the words
Folsom carried back with him, as,
mounting a willing trooper's horse, he
galloped homeward to reassure his
wife, thanking God for the opportune
coming of the little command, yet
swearing with close-compressed lips
at the ill-starred work of the day.
Thus far he had striven to keep from
her all knowledge of the threats of
the Ogallallas, although he knew she
must have heard of them, lie had
believed himself secure so far back
from the Platte. lie had done every
thing in his power to placate Red
Cloud and the chiefs —to convince his
former friends that he had never en
ticed poor Lizette, as Bapt.iste had
railed the child, from her home and
people. They held he should never
have left her, though she had ac
cused him of no wrong. Burning Star,
in his jealous rage, hatfcd him, be
cause he believed that, but for love
of the paleface Lizette would have lis
tened to his wooing, and Folsom's con
science could not acquit him of having
seen her preference and of leading her
on. lie could not speak of her to hi.-'
wife without shame and remorse. He
had no idea what could have been her
fate, for the poor girl had disappeared
from the face of the earth, and now.
at last, this day had proved to hiru the
threats of her lover and her brothers
were not idle He had had so narrow
a squeak for his life, so sharp and sud
den and hard a fight for it that, now
that the peril was over, his nerve be
gan t,o gi\e way, his strong hands to
tremble. Armed with breechloaders,
he and his two friends had been able
to stand off the attacking party, kill
ing two ponies, and emptying, they
felt sure, two saddles; but little by lit
tle the Indians wefe working around
their position, and would have crawled
upon them within an hour or two but
for Juke's daring ride for help and
tiie blessed coming of the bluecoats in
the nick of time. Folsom swore he'd
never forget their services this day.
An<i as he cantered homeward he
could still hear the distant firing- dy
ing' away in the mountains to the
north. "Give 'ein hell. Dean!" he mut
tered through his set teeth. "They're
showing light even when you've got 'em
on the run.l wonder what that
means?"
Not until another day was he to
know. Late on the evening of the at
tack, while he was seated with his
wife by Jake's bedside, half a dozen
troopers, two of them wounded and
all with worn-out horses, came drift
ing back to camp. Twice, said they,
had the fleeing Indians made a stand
to cover the slow retreat of one or two
evidently sorely stricken, but so close
ly were they pressed that at last they
hack been forced to abandon one ot
their number, who died, sending his
last vengeful shot through the lieu
tenant's hunting shirt, yet only graz
ing the skin. Dean, with most of the
men, pushed on in pursuit, determined
never to desist so long as there was
light but those who returned could
not keep up.
Leaving the dead body of the young
I)rave where it lay among the rocks,
they slowly journeyed back to camp.
No further tidings came, and at day
break Folsom, with two ranchmen and
a trooper, rode out on the trail to round
up the horses the Indians had been
compelled to drop. Mrs. Hal clung
sobbing to him, unable to control her
fears, but he chided her gently and
bade her see that Jake lacked no care
or comfort. The brave fellow was sore
and feverish, but in no great danger
now. Five miles out in the foothills
they came upon the horses wandering
placidly back to the valley, but Folsom
kept on. Four miles further he and a
single ranchman with him came upon
three troopers limping along afoot,
their horses killed in the running fight
and one of these, grateful for a long
pull at Folsom's flask, turned back and
showed them the body of the falleif
brave. One look was enough for Hal
and the comrade with him. "Don't
let my wife know —who it was," lie had
muttered to his friend. "It would only
make her more nervous." There lay
Chaska, I.izette's eldest brother, and
well Hal Folsom knew that death would
never go unavenged.
"If ever a time comes when I can do
you a good turn, lieutenant," said he
that afternoon as, worn-out with long
hours of pursuit and scout, the troop
was encountered slowly marching back
to the Laramie, "I'll do it if it costs
me the w hole ranch." But Dean smiled
and said they wouldn't have missed
that chance even for the ranch. What
a blessed piece of luck it was that the
commanding officer at Frayne had bidt
den him take that route instead of the
direct road to Gate City! lie had sent
men riding into both posts on the
Platte, with penciled lines telling of
the Indian raid) and its results. Once
well covered by darkness the little
band had easily escaped their pursuers,
and were now safe across the river and
well ahead of all possibilty of success
ful pursuit. But if anything were
needed to prove the real temper of the
Sioux the authorities had it. Now was
the time to grapple that Ogallalla tribe
and bring it to terms before it could
be reenforced by half the young men
in the villages of the northern plains.
The Platte, of course, would be pa
trolled by strong force of cavalry for
some weeks to come, and no new foray
need be dreaded yet awhile. lied
Cloud's people would "lay low" and
watch the effect of this exploit before
attempting another. If the White
Father "got mad" and ordered "heap
soldiers" there to punish them, then
they must disavow all participation in
the affair, even though one of their
best young braves was prominent in
the outrage, and had paid for the lux
ury with his life —even though Burning
Star was trying to hide the fresh scar
of a rifle bullet along his upper arm.
Together Dean and Folsom rode back
to the ranch, and another night was
spent there before the troop was suffi
ciently rested to push onto Emory.
"Kemember this, lieutenant," said
Folsom again, as he pressed his hand at
; parting, "there's nothing too good for
you and 'C' troop at my home. If ever
you need a friend you'll find one here."
And the time was coming when .Mar
shall Dean would need all that he could
muster.
Two days later—still a march away
from Emory—a courier overtook him
with a letter from his late post com
mander; "Your vigorous pursuit and
prompt, soldierly action have added to
the fine record already made and merit
hearty commendation." The cordial
words brought sunshine to his heart,
llovv proud Jess would be. and mother!
He had not had a word from either for
over a week. The latter, though far
from strong, was content at home in
the loving care of his sister, and in the
hope that he would soon obtain the
leave of absence so long anticipated,
and, after Jess's brief visit to l'ap
poose's new home, would come to
gladden the eyes of kith and kin, but
mother's most of all, bringing Jessie
with him. Little hope of leave of ab
sence was there now, and less was he
the man to ask it with such troubles
looming up all along the line of fron
tier posts to the north. But at least
there would be the joy of seeing Jess in
a few days and showing her his troop—
her and Pappoose. llow wonderfully
that little schoolgirl must have grown
and developed! How beautiful a girl
she must now be if that photograph
was no flatterer! By the way, where
was that photo? What had he done
with it? For the ti»st time in four
days lie remembered liis picking it up
when Mrs. Hal Folsom collapsed at
sight of Jake's swooning. Down in the
depths of the side packet of his heavy
blue flannel hunting shirt he found it.
crumpled a bit, nnd all its lower left
hand corner bent aTid blackened and
crushed, ( haska's last shot that tore
its way so -i-lose below the young sol-
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, JANUARY 10, i 9 or.
dlier's bounding heart, just nipping and
searing the skin, had left its worst
mark on that dainty carte de visite.
In that same pocket, too, was another
packet—a letter which had been picked
up on the floor of the hut at Reno after
B'jrleigh left —one for which the major
had searched in vain, for it was under
neath a lot of newspapers. "You take
that after him," said the cantonment
commander, as Dean followed with the
troop next day, and little dreamed
what it contained.
That very dlay, in the heavy, old
fashioned sleeping cars of the Union
I'aeific, two young girls were seated in
their section on the northward side.
One, a dark-eyed, radiant beauty, gazed
out over the desolate slopes and far
reaching stretches of prairie and dis
tant lines of bald bluff, with delight in
her dancing eyes. The other, a win
some maid of 19, looked 1 on with mild
wonderment, not unmixed with disap
pointment she would gladly have bid
den. To Elinor the scenes of her child
hood were dear and welcome; to Jessie
there was too much that was somber,
too little that was in\"iting. Hut pres
ently, as the long train rolled slowly
to the platform of a rude wooden sta
tion building, there came a sight at
which the eyes of both girls danced in
eager interest —a row of "A" tents on
the open prairie, a long line of horses
tethered to the picket ropes, groups
of stalwart, sunburned men in rough
blue garb, a silken guidon flapping by
the tents of the officers. It was one of
half a dozen such camps of detached
troops they had been passing ever since
breakfast time —the camps of isolated
little commands guarding the new rail
way cn the climb to Cheyenne. Papa,
with one or two old cronies, was play
ing "old sledge" in the smoking com
partment. At a big station a few miles
back two men in the uniform of officers
boarded Ihe car, one of them burly, ro
tund and sallow. He was shown to the
section just in front of the girls', andat
I'appoose he stared—stared long and
hard, so that she bit her lip and turned
nervously away. The porter dusted
the seat and disposed of the hand lug
gage and 1 hung about the new arrivals
in adulation. The burly man was evi
dently a personage of importance, and
his shoulder straps indicated that he
was a major of the general staff. The
other, who followed somewhat diffi
dently, was a young lieutenant of in
fantry. whose trim frock coat snugly
fitted his slender figure.
"Ah. sit down here, Mr.—Mr. Loom
is," said the major, patronizingly. "So
you are going up to the Big Horn.
Well, sir, I hope we shall hear good ac
counts of you. There's a splendid field
for officers of the right sort—there—
and opportunities for distinction—
every day."
At sound of the staff officer's voice
there roused tip from the opposite sec
' '
"Let me refresh your memory.'J
tion, where he had been dozing over a
paper, a man of middle age, slim, ath
letic, with heavy mustache and im
perial, just beginningto turn gray, with
deep-set eyes under bushy brows, and
a keen face, rather deeply lined. There
was a look of dissipation there, a shade
of shabbiness about his clot lies, a rakish
cut to the entire personality that
caused Folsom to glance distrustfully
at liiin more than once the previous
afternoon, and to meet with coldness
the tcntatives permissible in fellow
travelers. The stranger's morning
had been lonesome. Now lie held liis
newspaper where it would partly
shield his face, yet permit his watching
the officers across the aisle. And some
thing in his stealthy scrutiny attracted
I'appoose.
"Yes," continued the major, "I have
seen a great deal of that country, and
Mr. Dean, of whom you spoke, was at
tached to the troop escorting our com
mission. He is hardly—l regret to have
to sa3 - it—er—what you imagine. We
were, to put it mildly, much disap
pointed in his conduct the day of our
meeting with the Sioux."
A swift, surprised glance passed be
tween the girls, a pained look shot
into the lieutenant's face, but before
the major could goon the man across
the aisle arose and bent over him with
extended hand.
"Ah, Burleigh, I thought I knew the
voice." But the hand was not grasped.
The major was drawing back, his face
growing yellow-white with some
strange dismay.
"You don't seem sure of my identity.
Let me refresh your memory, Bur
leigh. I am Capt. Newhall. 1 see you
need a drink, major—l'll take one with
you."
CHAPTER IX.
For nearly a week after the home
coming of his beloved daughter John
Folsom was too happy in her presence
to give much thought to other matters.
By the end of that week, however, the
honest old westerner found anxieties
thickening about him. There were 48
hours of undimmed rejoicing. Elinor
was so radiant, so fond, and bad grown,
so said the proud father to himself, and
so said others, so wondrously lovely.
His eyes followed her every movement.
He found himself negligent of he; - gen
tle little friend and Jessie De.vn,
to whom he had vowed to be a secoid
father, nnrl such a friend as slip had
been to his I'appoose when, a homesick,
sa<l-eyed child, she entered upon her
schooldays. Elinor herself had to
chide him, and with contrition and dis
may he admitted his fault, and then
for hours nothing' could exceed his hos
pitable attentions to Jessie, who, sore
ly disappointed because Marshall was
not there to meet her, was growing
anxious as no tidings came from him.
Two whole days the damsels spent in
going over the new house, exclaiming
over papa's lavish preparations, but
wishing presently that Airs. Fletcher
were not quite so much in evidence,
here, there, and everywhere. Only
when bedtime came and they could
nestle in one or other of their connect
ing rooms were they secure from inter
ruption, and even then it presently ap
peared they could not talk confiden
tially as of old. Folsom had taken
them driving each afternoon, he him
self handling the reins over his hand
some bays, Elinor at his side the first
time, and Jessie, with Mrs. Fletcher,
occupying the rear seat. But this,
Elinor whispered to him. was not as it
should be. Jler guest should have the
seat of honor. So, next day, Jessie was
handed to the front and Mrs. Fletcher
and I'appoose were placed in rear,
and in this order they bowled round
the fort and listened to the band and
talked with several of the women and
one or two officers, but these latter
could tell nothing about Lieut.
except that they had been expecting
him for two days—he having taken the
long way home, which both Jessie and
I'appoose considered odd under the
circumstances, though neither said so
and nobody thought to explain. But
the morning of the third day "Miss Fol
som"—as the veteran was amazed to
hear his daughter addressed, yet on re
flection concluded that he'd be tempted
to kick any man who addressed her
otherwise —seized a favorable oppor
tunity and whisked her fond father
into a corner of his library, and there
gave him to understand that in eastern
circles the housekeeper might some
times, perhaps, accompany the young
ladies when they were going shopping,
or the like, alone, but that when
escorted by papa it was quite unneces
sary, It was, in fact, not at all con
ventional.
[To Be Continued ]
The Jniianene Divorce.
The following are the texts of won
drous letters, bearing a recent date,
exchanged between an aggrieved' hus
band and his delightcdi successor, both
of Azuma-mura, Asliikaga district, To
clugi prefecture.
"Mr. Sokichi Yamamoto: Sir—You
have been guilty of improper flirta
tions with my wife, Tsune, and the
affair has greatly grieved' me. For
this reason I have madie various com
plaints against you for your offensive
conduct, through the members of our
communal body. and. you have sent
me endless apologies, but as I find
them unsatisfactory, 1 have like a
man decided to get rid of my wife,
andr 1 do herewith pive andi transfer
her to you. Henceforth I will not en
tertain any lingering affection for the
woman, and in proof thereof witness
my signature. Kamekichi Fujikawa."
".!r. Kamekichi Fujikawa: Sir—lt
"is indisputably true that 1 have been
•guilty of intimacy with your beloved
wife, and on that account I have sent
you apologies through tjie members
of our communalf body. You have,
however, steadfastly refused' to for
give and have instead 1 forwarded your
wife to me. As it. is your will, I beg
herewith to acknowledge receipt and
transference of said wife, etc."—
Japan Times.
From the Mure'* Mouth.
Sir Robert Finlay, the new attorney
general, like most counsel with a large
practice, knows what it is to receive a
disconcerting reply from an apparent
ly guileless witness, and tells a good
story against himself in illustration.
He was engaged on a case for a breach
of warranty of a horse, the age of the
animal being the chief matter in dis
pute,and liadi cross-examined a hostler,
a yokel with every appearance of rustic
simplicity. "Upon what, authority do
you swear to the age of the mare?" he
asked. "I'm sure of it."was the reply.
Half a dozen more questions failed to
elicit from the witness any more spe
cific answer. "I!ut how do you know?"
thundered Sir Robert at last. "1 had
it from the mare's own mouth!" re
plied the hostler.—London Chronicle.
Ho't Con/jl-lerate Man.
"Yes; I think his marriage showed
him to be a most considerate and kind
hearted man."
"Considerate.and kindhearted! Well,
1 admit that she's not beautiful, but
she's worth a mint of money, and
wouldn't have suffered for a husband
if he had never seen her."
"Oh, I don't mean that he showed
consideration for her. but for his cred
itors."—Chicago Post.
A SlroitH' Iti <1 leu I ion.
"Do you think he has any real busi
ness ability?
"I should say he had. T did him the
favor of going on his bond, without
compensation, the other day, and
blamed if he didn't let me furnish the
war tax stamp for the document."—
Chicago Times-Jlerald.
liiMopli lit icuteil.
The Fiancee—l'oor fellow! ne con*
fessed that 1 was not the only girl he
ever loved.
The Confidante—Oh, well,
doesn't make any difference.
The Fiancee—Of course not; he
seemed to be afraid it might.—Brook
lyn Life.
Very True.
Bookkeeper—l think I ought to get
more pay! 1 am engaged to get mar
ried !
Employer—Well, hurry up and get
married and you won't need more pay!
It's this being engaged that's bo expen
sive!— Puck,
NESTOR OF USHERS.
Thomas F. Pendel Fjlds the White
House Record.
He Wim Appointed fry President IJn>
coin mid Ifn* UP/1 Hl* .Vol» Kver
Since—Han >1«»t Millions of
\ initors.
Thirty-six years in the white house is
the record of Thomas F. Pendel, an
usher, who was appointed November
3, 1864, by President Lincoln.
"Pap" Pendel, says the New York
World, is the oldest employe at the
white house, and is the only survivor
of the force on duty at the executive
mansion during the Lincoln adminis
tration.
He is still as hale and hearty e.s the
day he entered the service.
There is not a gray hair in his head
and he possesses a remarkable store
of information concerning the hap
penings at the executive mansion for
almost half a century.
He is an authority on the furniture,
paintings and arrangement of rooms at
the white house.
Mr. Pendel is 70 years old. He is
affable and delights to tell the visitors
to the president's mansion of the
grandeur of years gone by.
It is his duty when visitors come to
show them through the mansion. He
can pick out a newly-married couple as
far as he can see them. Mr. Pendel
takes a fatnerly interest in these young
couples, and is at his best when there
is an audience of honeymooners.
During the 30 years he has been on
duty at the executive mansion it is
estimated that he has personally ex
plained to more than 500,000 people the
beauties of the famous east room.
Col. Bingham, superintendent of pub
lic buildings and grounds, who has
charge of the executive mansion, has
typewritten copies of the lectures deliv
ered by the aged usher, which are pre
served as records.
Mr. Pendel was a great favorite with
President Lincoln. He was a member of
the police force and was detailed to
guard the president during the civil
war.
Because of his good humor and his
attachment to little "Tad" Lincoln,
the president appointed him an usher.
Mr. Pendel was the last man of the
white house attaches who saw Presi-
THOMAS F. PENDEL.
(Has Been a White House Usher Since
November 3, 1864.)
dent Lincoln alive. On the night he
went to Ford's theater and was assas
sinated Pendel opened the door and
let him out of the white house.
"flood night, Mr. President," said
Pendel, who expected to be off duty
before the return of the president.
"(iood night. Pendel," replied the
president as he entered his carriage.
It is related that the ushers and
secret service officials on duty at the
execi#i ve mansion during the war were
prone to congregate in a little ante
room and exchange reminiscences.
This was directly against instructions
by the president.
One night the guards and ushers
were gathered in the little room talk
ing things' over, when suddenly the
door opened and t here stood President
Lincoln, his shoes in his hand.
The gathering broke up in disorder.
Pendel alone stayed behind. President
Lincoln, shaking his bony ting-er at him,
•aid:
"Pendel. you people remind me of
the boy who set a hen on 43 eggs."
"How was that, Mr. President?"
asked Pendel.
"A youngster put 43 eggs under a4ien
and then rushed in and told his mother
what he had done.
" 'But a hen can't set on 43 eggs,' re
plied the mother.
"'Xo, 1 guess she can't; but 1 just
wanted to see her spread herself.'
"That's what I wanted to see you
boys do when I came in," said the
president, as he left for his apart
ments.
Mr. Pendel is going to put his knowl
edge of the executive mansion into a
book, which will shortly be issued by
a New York publisher.
Itlxe of n Riillron J llun.
A steady advance in p/osperity has
marked the career of Chat Ins M. Hays,
of St. Louis. At the age of 19 he was
a clerk in that city at the office of the
Southern Pacific railroad. His salary
was then S4O a month. At the age of
42 he has just been elected president
of the Southern Pacific railroad, with
a salary of $55,000 a year.
How l.iulMniuu Aflfects Trees.
When lightning strikes a tree It oc
casionally converts the sap into steam,
which explodes and scatters the wood
in all directions.
Mountain Air anil Memory.
It is statod that the men who live on
the mountain ranges of California are
notable for their remarkably retentive
memories.
Hi- San It.
Wife (;it the theater)- The pro
gramme says this play has a moral,
but 1 fail to see it.
Husband (who paid three dollars for
seats) Oh. the moral's there, all rijjht.
Wife- I'd like to know what it i.».
Husband—"A fool and his mon°v are
soon parted."—Chicago Daily News.
I.IK-li.v < I rt-iiin* tn m-e.
The Major Sorry, old boy; but !
learned to-day that her mother objects
to you!
The Captain—Good! From what 1
know of human nature, that will preju
dice both the girl and her father in my
favor. I'm a lucky dog!- Tit-Hits.
A Fortunate Pact.
Hewitt—The girl in the print dross
is a poem.
Jewett She differs from most
poems.
Hewitt—How's that?
Jewett—Most poems don't get into
print.—Hrooklyn I-i fe.
tin tlic Itiiml to Fame.
Fond Father —That is the smartest
child t ever saw. If anyone can set
a rivt ron tire he will when he grows up.
Fond Mother —Indeed he will. bles>
liis little heart. Only this morning 1
found him starting a fire under the
piano.—Philadelphia Call.
Ksiinlxite Iteveime.
Hingso—llenpeck had a great time
yesterday.
.1 i ngso—Ho w ?
Jlingso—He invited all his friends tc
see his wife fire the cook. Syracuse
Herald.
StroiiK Com imi IMi on.
"I have compelled my wife to cease
strumming on the piano," said Mr.
Goldsborough to Mr. Hunting.
"How did you manage it'.'"
"I insisted upon singing every time
she began to play."—Judge.
>o Cauxe for Comiilii iii I.
Judge —You say you do not wish to
prosecute the defendant for stealing >
a kiss?
Fair Complainant—No. your honor.
The property has been restored.—
Stray Stories.
Two lloltxon Trail*.
Mr. Smith —I have named my dog
Hobson.
Miss (ierald Smith— Because he is a
fighter or because he wants to kiss ev
ery bod y V—J u d g-e.
A Prompt Text.
"My darling, I would go through fire
for you."
She (moodily)-—I gties> you'll have
to. dear. I hear pa coming downstairs.
—V. Weekly .
Would llavc Ileen » VirtiiOMo.
liart'on Samson was noted for his
strength and his long hair, I believe'.'
•Kgbert Ye:-.; too bad they didn't /
have pianos in those days.—Yonkers
Statesman.
Siilllolent.
"How did Eleanor announce her en
gagement to tli,p family?"
"She just waggled the finger that
had on the diamond ring." *>'. Y.
World.
Celebrated Oeiilixtx Fall
To relieve many eases that Palmer's Lotion
has permanently cured. Some time ago Mr.
Y. M. Green, of Huntington, West Yir
ginia, wrote: "After trying the most cel
ebrated oculists of Boston, Albany and New
York City, for Granulated Eyelids, with no
success, a few applications of Palmer's Lo
tion relieved the inflammation and its use
has effreted a permanent < are."' This Lfc t
:ion will also he found valuable in curii.£
I'ipples. Red Spots or at.? eruptions on the
skin atl(i is particularly efficacious if used in /
connection with Lotion Soap. If you can't
find them at your druggist's s<end to Solon '
Palmer, 374 Pear' Street, New York C'ity,
r or samples of Palmer's Lotion and Lotion
Soap.
Free.
An Irishman was once standing in
the streets of an Irish town looking
on with great interest at a fight
which was taking place, lie said to
a gentleman, standing near:
"Sir. can you tell me. is this a free
fight or a faction fight?"
The gentleman replied:
"It is a free fight."
"Oh," said the Irishman, and rush
into the thick of the fray, he dealt
with his shillelah destruction and
devastation all around him.—London
Spare Moments.
I.ane's Family Medicine.
Moves the bowels each day. In order to
>e healthy this is necessary. Acts gently on
the liver and kidneys. Cures sick he;>l
ache. Price 25 and 50c.
A feast fit for a king is not always fit for
% man who has to work for a living.—l'uek.
ABSOLUTE
SECURITY,
Genuine
Carter's
Little Liver Pills.
Must Bear Signature of
See FaoSlmlle Wrapper Below*
Vwj and as easy
to take as sugar.
HEADACHE.
FOR duress.
iPITTLE FGa biliousness.
m BVER POR TORPID LIVER.
1 PILLS FOR CONSTIPATION.
' FOR SALLOW SKIM.
payaaaa I for thecomplexi
I PHC® I UINU MI«»THAVC IUOMATUftC.
a^jtit^lPuroly
aau'.' ■
CURE SICK HEADACHE*