6
THE STEPHENSON OF THE AIR.
Wh"re lives hp?—that Inventive one
For whom the world Is watting—where?
Thi ether's lutura Stephenson,
The coming conqueror of the air?
And has he found the gecret yet.
The solvent thought, whate'er It be?
May the explorer not forget
That mystic Open Sesame!
And will he sail with mighty wins.
Or vast balloon, or whirling fan?
Or will it be a startling thing
On some unprecedented plan?
And when the deed'ls brought to pass
And men are taught the way to fly,
Siust all our railroads goto grass
And all our commerce seuk the sky?
I do not know ; but this I know-
Whatever bulk the thought attain.
It must begin ar.d slowly grow
From one wee notion in the brain;
Some quick ideas swiftly caught
Ai d stoutly held with iron grip
While patience labors on the thought
Ar.d firmness will not let it slip.
For never on a gale of luck
Shall his tine air-ship come to port;
Its kn-1 Is grit, its sails are pluck.
The hurricane it dares to court!
Its captain, whosoe'er he be,
Has counted cowardice a sin.
Has found the air a stormy sea.
Has learned to struggle and to win!
—Amoi it. Wells, in Youth's Companion.
- V
A Knave of
Conscience
By FRANCIS LYNDE.
I J
(Copyright 1 aw, by Francis Lyado.)
CHAPTER NX IV.
The threatening storm had blown
over and the moon was shining fair
and full upon a placid lake when the
family dinner party at Dr. Farn
ham's adjourned to the veranda.
Griswold and the Raymers were the
only guests, and in the marshalling
of chairs Griswold was skillful
enough to cut Charlotte out of the
group and so secure her for himself.
At the dinner table the talk had
turned upon the pivotal point of the
strike, but that subject was coming
to be pretty well threshed out, and
on the veranda Charlotte spoke of
the windrblow 11 incident of the nfter
noon and of the castaway on Oak
island.
"It was a terribly reckless thing
for you to do—to go out after him
in the Sprite," said Miss Farnham.
Now next to being exalted as a
demigod by the woman of his choice
a man loves best to have her believe
him fearless. So Griswold dismissed
the matter lightly.
"What is a man for?" he asked.
"But ns for that, the danger isn't
worth mentioning."
"You may think so, but Gertrude
nrul I did not. We stood tip here on
the veranda and watched you, going
and coming. Gertrude says I pinched
her black anil blue grabbing her and
saying: 'Oh, she's gone!' when the
ecud or a big wave would hide you."
Here was a small admission which
no mere human sympathy could ac
count for, and Griswold pinched him
self black and blue in the ecstasy of
it. It was coming, slowly, perhaps,
but surely, and the name of it was
love.
"But think of it,"he said, willing
to make that string vibrate some
more; "think of how you and Miss
Gertrude would have shone in the
borrowed effulgence of me if I had
been capsized. The Morning Argus
would have had you out to identify
the remains, and—"
"Oh, please hush!" she said, and
her hand was on his arm; where
upon lie went obediently from the
grewsome to the matter-of-fact.
"Really, there wasn't any danger
worth speaking of; and the fellow
was glad enough to be picked up, I
assure you."
"Who was he?" she asked.
"No one whom you know; a man
named Griffin—a summerer, I fancy."
"I do know him," she asserted.
And then: "I don't like him."
Griswold was both puzzled and
curious.
"May I nsk how and why?—how
you came to meet him and why you
don't like him?"
She was silent while one might
count a score, and when she spoke
her rejoinder was a half reluctant
question.
"I wonder if I might dare to tell
you about it?"
"I have been hoping that the time
would come when you would dare to
tell me anything."
She passed over the implication
end went on, following out her own
thought.
"It is rather dreadful, and I
haven't told anyone about my part
in it; that is, not anyone but this
Mr. Griffin, and he had a right to
usk," she said; and from tills as a
beginning she told him the story of
the bank robbery in New Orleans,
and of her part lu the apprehension
of the robber.
Griswold's lips were dry and there
was a® invisible hand clutching at
his throat when she came to the
end. but he made no sign.
"They arrested him in St. Louis,
you say?"
"Yes; hut he escaped again."
He moi'.tened his lips to sny: "I
didn't hear of that- I mean 1 didn't
rend vi it in the papers."
"Nor did J," she admit*. kV "This
Mr (irillin told me."
"Then he Im a u—"
"A detective; yen. It seems that
he came to the conclusion that a
woman had written the letter to Mr.
Gttlbralth. lie took the Belle Julie's
passenger li-t and souffht out every
one nl the w-meii on it till he came
here and found me. I wus ?-orry,
tiut 1 had to tell him what I knew."
"Of coin But why iihould you
be irnrry !"
"How can you nsk! Ts it so light «
thing to help ever so little to set
a snare for the poor fellow!"
Griswold's laugh was almost harsh.
"I shouldn't waste any sympathy on
him if I were you. lie is a hardened
criminal, by his own admission to
you."
"No, he was not that," she said,
quickly. "1 understood him better
than that —better than I have made
you understand him. lie was not a
hardened criminal."
Griswold's blood, which had been
slowly turning' to ice in his veins, be
gan to thaw out again at that.
"Then you don't condemn him ut
terly? You are willing to admit that
his own conscience may have acquit
ted him?"
"I am very sure that it did; or,
at least, 1 am sure that his own
point of view was so obscured by
what he had suffered that he could
not rightly see the guilt of the thing
lie had done."
"But you saw the guilt of it?"
"llow could I help seeing it?"
"True. There is no excuse for
him."
"I shouldn't say that. There may
be many excuses for him."
"But no justification?" lie tried
hard to make the saying of it an
impersonal abstraction, succeeding
so well that she did not remark the
note of despairing eagerness.
"Certainly not. Nothing could jus
tify such a deed of lawlessness."
It was as he had prefigured. Her
womanly pity had in it the quality
of mercy. It went out toward the
lawbreaker as the divine compassion
enfolds even the impenitent sinner.
But her conscience arraigned and
condemned him.
He bowed his head and went dumb
before the woman who had judged
him; but when he would have
changed the subject he found it
mightier than his will to break away
from it.
"Your verdict is doubtless that of
the world," he said. "And from
what you tell me I fancy the end
is in sight."
"Oh! Do you think so?" she
quavered, and her voice, and the
tears in it, were of womanly incon
sistency.
"Surely. This man Griffin has
made a long step on the way to the
end. When he discovers the idaatity
of the man who talked to you on
the Belle Julie, the world won't be
big enough for the fugitive to
hide in."
She caught her breath in a little
gasp. "And it was I who ses. the
hunt upon hiin; not only once, but
twice."
Then it was Griswold forgot his
jeeril and turned comforter. "You
mustn't grieve about it,"he said,
gently. "You have done "no more
than your plain duty. lie made yon
do it in the first instance; lie would
have made you do it in the second
if he could have known the circum
stances."
She turned upon him quickly and
he dared not look into her eyes.
"How do you know he did that?"
she queried; and though he would
not trust himself to look, he felt all
that he might have seen if he had
J n .
\ i#
yip*
THEY STEPPED OTJT FROM THE
SHADOW OF THE THEE.
lifted his eyes to her face. But he
was equal to the emergency which
liis slip had brought upon him.
"You forget what you have just
been telling me."
"Did 1 tell you that, too? I didn't
mean to." She paused and looked
away from him, adding: "And—and
I don't believe I did."
Be laughed. "Then I must have
read your thoughts. How else could
I have known it?"
"I don't know," she said, absently;
and at the end of the silence which
fell between them the talk went
back to the strike.
"I am in pretty deep water," Oris
wold confessed, when the present
hopeless state of affairs had been
fully recounted for Charlotte's bene
fit. "My responsibility is heavier
than Ned's. He wanted to compro
mise with the men, and I wouldn't
agree to that. Now I am well as
sured of the cause—which he only
suspects; and 1 know the remedy—
which 1 am not brave enough to ap
ply."
"Tell me about it," said Charlotte,
with simple directness.
"I hardly know where to begin. It
will be fairly incredible to you. Had
you ever thought that the trouble
might go deeper than mere di satis
faction on the part of the men?"
"No. Does It?"
"Much deeper. The strike Ih noth
ing l> sk than a part of a conspiracy
to ruin u.,"
"A conspiracy!"
" I hat is what 1 said, but the
word «loc n't fit. It takes two to
eon-.pin, mid the attfc-k on um ia
' instigated by one mu i. Yoll will
| know who he Is when I titty that his
I motive 1 jjri ■d, pure and unallojfcd."
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 30, 1902.
She nodded slowly. "I know. Hut
the motive isn't altogether avarice."
"What else could it be?"
She defined it in one word:
"Pique."
Griswold did not pret«end to rnis
understand.
"So I thought at first. But that
involves a woman as well as a man;
from something which 1 learned to
day I am inclined to doubt the wom
an's complicity; to question whether
she knows anything abotit it."
But at this point Charlotte the
compassionate became Miss Farnham
the austere.
"You may be very sure she knows
all about it. If she ever sets up a
crest—and even that won't be beyond
her—the motto for it will be 'Hule or
Ruin.' "
Griswold was beginning to doubt
the advisability of any further con
fidences in the Grierson field, but his
evil genius urged him to defend
Margery.
"Isn't that a little uncharitable?"
lie ventured.
The tone was placable enough, as it
was meant to be, but Charlotte was
only a woman, and Griswold had
been very much in evidence with
Miss Grierson of late, on the high
swung trap and in the Grierson
steam-launch. So she said, rather
coldly: "I may seem uncharitable to
you, and I am sorry I said it. But
we are wandering. You say you
know the remedy for your trouble
and Xed's. What is it?"
Now Griswold was not any braver
than other men when it came to fac
ing a woman piqued, but since she
had taken him unawares, lie must
needs lose his head and say: "It is
a personal appeal to this young
woman whom you don't like."
The Raymers were rising togo,
she rose too, meeting his frank
avowal with a toss of the superb
head.
"By all means make it," she ad
vised, icily. "You owe it to—to—"
"To Ned?" he suggested.
"Certainly not; to yourself."
And with that she turned away to
say good night to the others. That
was all, save that she did not give
her hand to Griswold at parting.
CHAPTER XXV.
In after time Griswold could never
satisfactorily account for the im
pulse which sent him to wander aim
lessly through the deserted streets
of the town after leaving Dr. Farn
ham's and parting from the other
dinner guests.
But this night the thought of Mrs.
Holcomb's and the quiet room was
curiously repugnant, and so he
roamed, like any vagrant, far and
wide, drifting at length to the rail
way crossing and beyond, and com
ing to some sense of the actualities
only when he found himself in the
neighborhood of the iron works.
At this he would have turned back.
Since the closing of the works the
plant had been guarded nightly;
first by the inner circle of deputies,
and later by an outer cordon of the
striking workmen. This outer guard
had latterly been maintained in re
liefs and made continuous, ostensibly
to show the good will of the strik
ers anil their readiness to protect
the property; but really, as Gris
wold knew, to forestall any move on
the part of himself and ltaymer to
supply the places of the men with
imported labor.
It was a chance collision with this
outer guard that brought Griswold
alive to the actualities. Two men
stepped out of the shadow of a tree
and halted him. Rut at the word
one of them recognized him.
"Ob, it's you, Mr. Griswold. Beg
pardon, sir, but you see we have to
be sort o' careful."
Griswold's smile was openly cyni
cal. "Your carefulness is a good
bit overdue, Martin. It should have
begun before you made this sense
less strike."
X'ow the man Martin was in some
sort a leader among the discontent
ed workmen, and he asked nothing
better than a chance to argue the
point with one of the bosses.
"There's two sides to that, Mr.
Griswold, and you hain't seen but
one. You don't know what it means
to earn your bread from day today
like we do."
"Don't I?" said Griswold, smiling
again, this time without the cyn
icism. "Perhaps I don't, and again,
perhaps I do. You're an older man
than I am, Martin, but I'll venture to
say that I've gone lacking more
meals in a year than you have iu
your whole lifetime."
The man was silenced for a mo
ment, but presently found tongue
«iga in.
"Then what makes you so tarna
tion hard on its fellows?" he de
manded. "If you've known what a
bare clipboard means for yourself,
I sh'd think you could put yourself
in a workin'iiinn's place."
"I can and do; and so does Ray
mer. l!ut you won't believe anything
we say, and that settles it."
"It hain't come to anything like a
settlement yet," remarked the man,
sullenly.
"it has, so far as we are concerned.
If we can't be allowed to run our
busilie sin our own way the plant
may stand idle. It's ours."
"I don't know about that, Mr.
ISrlstvold."
"About what?"
"Alnmt the plant bein' yours and
Mr. liayiiier's, Seems like we fel
lows that helped earn the money to
bilild it ought to have koine little
Now this win one of th<- founda
tion stoni's iu (iri--wold's theories
and in his book; that the laborer Is
entitled, not to ii <thldcit'ti share in
the product of his labor, but to the
■ ntire product. Hut a* vet he was
only broad enough to iay down the
general principle. He could by no
means apply it to the particular per
sonal instance.
"That is nonsense, Martin, and you
know it. Whose money built the
plant?"
The man took time to think about
it, a fid, as slow men often do, he
thought it over to some purpose.
"I s'pose you could say ain't
for me to say, but I'm to say
it. Mr. Raymer got his mon v v from
the old man, and we, and others like
us, helped him earn it.l dunno who
helped you earn your money, Mr.
Griswold. Maybe you earned it all
yourself, but I don't believe it."
At this Griswold Hew into a pas
sion, there being no other retort for
such a thrust.
"You don't know what you're talk
ing about," he snapped. "Let me
pass."
The man stood aside respectfully
enough, and the master crossed the
street to the iron works side of it.
An arc light swinging from its wire
in front of the foundry building flung
black shadows beneath Ilie trees at
the curb line, and for aught a pass
er-by might see, street and plant
were alike deserted. But the quietude
was only seeming. As Griswold
crossed the roadway, there was a
blinding flash of white light which
seemed to have its focusing point
under a tree which shaded the small
detached office building. The flash
was but momentary, but it served to
reveal a knot of men in various atti
tudes of expentaney at the corner of
the office. A glimpse was all flris
wold had, and it was followed instant
ly by a yell of fury, the din and
clamor of a fray, and a knot of curs
ing, struggling men broke out of the
tree-shadow. Griswold flung himself
promptly into the thick of it, seeing
nothing but that a dozen infuriated
men were assaulting one.
"For shame!" he cried, shouldering
his way into the group. "Stop it and
let him go, or I'll prosecute the last
one of you in the courts!"
The melee quieted down, but two
of the men kept fast hold of their
prisoner. Griswold looked again, and
when he recognized the captive, had
a curious little shock of surprise.
The pinioned man was no other than
the man whom he had taken from the
island in the "Sprite," whose good
cigar he had smoked in the lobby of
the hotel, and whose occupation and
business in Waliaska he had by no
means been able to guess until Char
lotte had enlightened him.
There was a moment of silence of
the portentous kind, and then the
leader of the workmen spoke for all.
"You go away, Mr. Griswold. This
ain't no funeral o' yours, and it'll be
a heap better all 'round if you don't
'tend it."
But Griswold made no move togo
away. "Xot a step till you release
that man."
[To Be Continued.]
HOW IT WAS DONE.
I'at lletpeil Hl* Com mile Inn I'lneh
mill \\ a-S Mone the Worie
Off for It.
An old soldier belonging ton well
known line regiment had gained the
unenviable reputation of being known
as a "sting," or. in other words, one
who comfortably manages'to live on
another's pay, relates London Spare
Moments.
Pay day having come and gone,
things looked rather blue for him
when the time for opening the can
teen arrived. But not for long; he
soon espied his bed chum not far
away, and, calling him over, he en
gaged him in conversation, finally per
suading Paddy—a recruit, by the way
—to sell a pair of pants, saying it was
foolish to have more kit about one than
necessary.
Accordingly Pat went to his room,
and, providing himself with a new
pair of pants, returned and gave them
to the man, who forthwith proceeded
to dispose of them.
Xeedless to say, an enjoyable evening
followed, and on leaving the canteen
the "sting" remarked:
"You're a good boy, Pat. and' I'll
stand you a drink someday in return."
"Oeh, you need not bother," said
Pat. "Sure, it's your own pants ye
sould. 1 tuk them from your box."
Creek Monk*** llrliff,
Tt is n firm belief of the eastern
monks of the Greek cliurcli that God
will not allow a monastery to be
burned. When the Russian monas
tery of St. l'antelemon, at Mount
Athos, was burned a few, years ago,
the Creeks, who constitute the great
majority of the <>,ooo monks on the
peninsula, maintained that their Rus
sian brethren had brought the calam
ity on themselves, because they had
fire engines and extinguishers, and
did not trust wholly in (iod. Now
the neighboring Creek monastery of
St. Paul, which had no fire engines,
has recently been utterly destroyed
by fire. It is said that the monas
tery of St.. Paul was the only one at
Mount Athos which has ever been
visited by a woman. The wife of a
Ilritish ambassador landed from her
yacht one day on its tiny pier and
insisted on entering the eliureh. In
con eipience the monks, relieving
each other by relays, for 40 days and
nights maintained a continuous serv-
prayer to purify the church
from this communication.—X. Y.
Tribune.
4 IVi*nlii» r Nit in•*,
"What make you call your mule
Pin Nr-Pong?"
"It 'mind* me of de happy dnyt
when I was workln' foh Rome o' dein
select geinitieii at de ehlb," answered
Mr. K last lis l»lnk ley. "When Psdrl*-
in' dut mule 1 has to talk to lilin jes'
about de slime as dein pi'lnliifli was
tiilkilf to de ball* whcndi v was leiil'll
' to play tit* Wa
Star,
TENETS OF MASONRY
They Were Religiously Maintained
by George Washington.
Painting of Flmt PreJildenlt In Mn
huiilc Garb, Han Ju»t lleen I're-
Nenti'il to tl»e <>rjtntf liUiU;e
or KtitflJiiitl.
Although the portrait of George
Washington us a mason, which i 1 enry
S. Wellcome has presented totlu' grand
lodge of Engl:>.ltd and which Ambassa
dor Choate unveiled the other day, was
painted two years ago, ii never lias
been shown.
If this unique portrait of the first
president is not historically accurate
iu every detail, it is the fault neither
of the Ainierican Free Mason, who
ordered, nor tlie American artist who
painted it. When Mr. Wellcome de
cided to have the picture made, he ex
plained to Hubert Gordon llardie, the
artist, to whom he intrusted its exe
cution, that he wished him to spare no
pains to make the painting a faithful
representation of Gen. Washington as
he looked in masonic dress.
This proved, however, to he rather
a diliicult matter, it was by no means
easy to find out what sort of regalia
the first president used to wear. Only
one of his pictures showed him in ma
sonic dress, and that was an engraving
which proved to be inaccurate in sev
eral ways. Mr. Wellcome, however,
who was determined to have his pic
ture, and equally resolved that it
should be exact, gave Mr. llardie carte
blanche to search the records of the
period and collect information from
any and every reliable source in Amer
ica, England and France.
The artist, on his side, spared no
pi ins- in his ea roll fort rust worth y data.
He interviewed descendants of Wash
ington wherever they could be found,
from New York to Virginia, and this
part of his work was both prolonged
and expensive. It resulted, however,
WASHINGTON AS A MASON.
(Portrait Recently Presented to Urar.d
Lodge of England.)
in the discovery that the masonic re
galia worn by Washington was pre
sented to him by Mine. Lafayette. Ry
the titled French woman's instruc
tions, the regalia was sent to the first
president by the firm of Watson cV
Cosson, of Xantes, France, and Wash
ington's letter tot his house, acknowl
edging the ornaments, is in the
possession of the librarian of the Ma
sonic hull In London. It was written
from New York in 17s:J.
Accordingly, 111 painting his portrait
of Washington, Mr. llardie arrayed
the great American in the masonic re
galia worn in France in his day. That
lie was quite justified induing, o,doubts
have been expressed, but it is generally
admitted that the likeness of Washing
ton's portrait, which, until Mr. Choate
unveiled it the other day, had never
been shown, is one of the best that
ever has been made of the first presi
dent. it is believed that, including the
expenses of the artist in collecting
material, the cost of the work was
about $3,000.
The ceremony of unveilingthe paint
ing. in the library of the Freemason's
hall, was presided over by the earl of
Warwick, a prominent English mason
In his speech, the earl recalled that
in the revolution G«n. Washington sev
eral times returned to the general of
the I'.ritish forces treasures and em
blems which had been captured by the
Americans. He added that English
men were proud of the fact that the
Forty-sixth I'.ritish regiment had in
its possession the iiible on which
(ieorge Washington took his oath
as a mason.
In unveiling the painting, the Ainer
lean ambassador, as usual, was both
eloquent and facetious, lie spoke of
tie first president a* the illustro
champion of liberty and justice, and
said that t' -day, after three genera
tions had been completed, he still re
mained the first of Americans in the
hearts ■ 112 a s;reat people, lie congratu
lated the grand lodge of Kntrland on
having aee.-pted George Washington as
one of their patron saints, and trust
ed that hi;- memory might bp cher
' l < ii in Knjfland, as ill America, to the
end of time.
Th. painting will remain in the Ma
funic library for a 111 nth or two be
fore lieillf placed In the picture gal-
Irv, as Librarian Sadler expr#»>ed It,
«»iiiiii.<:ated" witheltb • us of the Cnited
Lord I!' -el ert, who is ill Jm -session
of what is mi'il to bi> the oniv v tin
Itt*. tH.rtr ••' Of WW iiift- ti »t ptesea.
In I n «» . W dv'.lgi w , with Mr
HarJlt'a work.
"JUG" MEDICINE.
Sally Kept All Tlial WHS I.rfl Over t«
lie When n Doctor Wasn't
at Hand,
Up in a little Vermont town they tell a
story ot' an old nurse. She was the kind of
an "old nur.se" to he found in small towns,
who comes, after much urging, to "tend" u
case and who has many Sairey Gamp pecu
liarities, relates the New York Herald.
Sally," as she was called, was in
duced to come to the house of the sick wom
an and take charge. She moved in—cob
pi|>e, batch of starched aprons, knitting and
After the good creature had seen the case
through, she said to the doctor, "Doc, kin I
take my toll?"
"What's that, Sally''" asked the visiting
physician, who had come fn in the capital
city and was amused and a little irritated
by the old woman's ways.
"1 mean the medicine?" >aid the nurse
complacently.
( "I he medicine!" exclaimed the doctor.
"What on earth do you want with the medi
cine?"
No fifth wheel to a wagon was ever mere
redundant than left over medicines.
"1 puts it in me jug," replied the old wom
an slowly "and then 1 gives it out occa
sionally when there ain't no doctor nigh."
The visiting physician roared with laugh
ter, hut sobered down when the story of
"Old Sally's" "jug" medicine was explained
to him. That there were not more victims
to her uniijue methgds of cure was a mys
tery.
VERY LOW COLONISTS' HATES
To the West, Sort Invest nn.il South*
west.
I he Missouri Pacific Railway and Iron
-.loui. uin Route will sell one way Colonists
a "d Settlers' tickets to California and
North I'acitic Coast points, also to points in
Missouri., Arkansas, Indian and Oklahoma
I erritories. Louisiana and Texas on the first
and third Tuesdays of each month from Oc
tober 21st to April 31st, at one-half the stand*
ard first-class fare, plus $2.00. For further in*
formation see nearest Agent, or write F1
fownsend, G. P. & T. Agent, St. Louis, Mo.
"I often see tlie foreign papers alluding
to 'floating'debts,'" said the grand vizier.
"What is a 'floating debt?'" "My navy!"
groaned the sultan ol Turkey.—Philadelphia
Record.
Four Daily Trains to St. I'aill-Miline
itpolis via Cliicn&o •& ."Northwest
ern Hail way.
Leave Chicago 0 a. in., 6:30 p. m.(the
North - Western Limited, electric lighted
throughout), 8 i>. m., and 10 p. m. Fast
sc.iedules. Most complete and luxurious
equipment in the West. Dining car service
unequaled. For tickets, reservations and
descriptive pamphlet-. apply to your nearest
t icket agent or address W.' JJ. KnUkern, 22
1" ittlt Avenue. Chicago, Ills.
"I see the new magazine is out?" "Yes;
and, thank heaven, they've got my poem
right next tot :e advertising matter!"— A
tlanta Constitution.
No (.no would ever be bothered! with con
stipation if everyone knew how naturally
and quickly Hurdock Illood Bitters regulate
tne stomach and bowels.
Many people who wouldn't think of tell
ing a lie show great tact in evading the
truth.—lndianapolis News.
Scald head is an eczema of the scalp—very
severe sometimes, but it can lie cured,
poan's Ointment, quick and permanent in
its results. At any drug store, 50 cents.
What can't be cured should be endured
and should be endured as patiently as pos
sible. —Puck.
Piso's Cure for Consumption is an infalli
ble medicine for coughs and colds. —N. W,
Samuel, Ocean Grove, N. J., Feb. 17, 19U0.
Truth, of course, is wholesome, but much
of it has a very disagreeable taste. —Indian-
apolis News.
Money refunded for each package of Put
nam Fadeless Dyes if unsatisfactory.
'1 iie forward person is frequently set back.
—N. Y. Herald.
gOO-0 WOO OtHKKK} W QQQQO Q-OWO
I ST. JACOBS 1
112 OIL
| POSITIVELY CURES £
Rheumatism
Neuralgia
Backache
Headache
Feetache
| All Bodily Aches <
AND
1 CONQUERS|
| PAIN, j
£ C
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IN WET WEATHER
A WISE MAN
WEARS
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WILL KEEP YCli DRY NOTHIMC ELSE WILL
•TAKE NO 3UB3TiTUTP.3 • CATALOGUES FREE
SHOWING PULL LINE OP GARMENTS AND MATS,
AcJ TOWER CO. BOSTON. MAS 3. 4b
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