ERE
ON THE MOUNTAINS.
They had missed him in the valley, they
were crouching in a hollow.
They were sheep without a shepherd,
.. they were few.
Said the youngest to the eldest: “We must
nd him—we must follow,
We Fic follow. follow, follow till we
0.
Said the eldest to the youngest: “Lo! I
know the road he’s taken,
He is waiting where the pile he lighted
; urns,
His word is on my spirit and my faith is
still unshaken;
We must follow, follow, follow till he
urns.”
Said the youngest to the eldest:
listen, O my brother,
Lo, the fire in the valley has gone out,
But up among the mountains he has light-
him another
We must follow, follow, follow, we must
shout.”
“Listen,
Said the eldest of them, angered: “10, the
stripling has been drinking.”
But the youngest only curled his pleas-
ant lips—
“He is watching on the mountains where
the sun he loved is sinking,
We jus follow, follow, follow where it
amps.
So they sought him down the valley, arm
in arm in friendship linking,
And they stumbled on the ashes in the
dark,
But they found him on the mountains
where the sun he loved was sinking,
With his fingers spread to shield a new
born Lau
And he laughed them out a promise, those
abandoned in the hollow,
“There are other flames and other suns
eside;
But to know them you must foflow—you
must follow, follow, follow.”
So they followed, followed, followed till
they di
—Westminster Gazette,
Detective
Dorothy.
“Nine of Dave Harper's chickens
were. stolen last night, so I hear,”
said Dan, coming in with the wood
one pleasant summer morning. “The
raids are geting pretfy near home,
Dot!”
Dorothy looked up from the cook-
ing stove. ‘Yes, I'm expecting the
thieves,” she said. ‘They're coming
to this corner of the township, of
course. My white Leghorns aren't
any safer than other people's chick-
ens. But,” and she straightened her
slim seventeen-year-old figure with a
1ift of her small head, “I've thought
out a plan if they do come.”
“Burglar alarm?’’ suggested Dan,
with brotherly contempt. “They cut
the wires of the one at Allen’s be-
fore taking the chickens. They've
poisoned three dogs, so Bruce would
be of no use. What can you do, when
every farmer round has been beaten
80 far?”
“I'm not planning to keep them
from taking the chickens,” replied
Dorothy, mysteriously. “They're
bound to do that. My idea is dif-
ferent. You needn't laugh! It is
an idea—only I don’t know whether
it will work or not, until after—"’
“After they steal the chickens?”
said Dan, laughing. ‘“What good will
it do then, Dot? Girls aren’t a bit
practical.”
“Lots of things have to be theory
before they're practice,” returned
Dorothy. “Wait and see.”
That afternoon Dan heard a great
cackling and commotion among the
thickens. Dorothy was treating them
to ‘some of her notions,” as her
brother expressed it.
“You’ll have complexion washes
for those pullets of yours next,” he
said, teasingly, looking in on her as
she stood beside a pail of some sticky,
paint-like substance, dipping each
Leghorn’s legs in it, amid of chorus
of protesting clucks and squawks.
“What is it? Tar? A specific for
loss of appetite, and keeps the feath-
ers from falling out, I suppose? But
it looks bad, Dot, to turn those in-
nocent and inexperienced chickens
Into blacklegs, even if it does keep
them from having the pip.”
“It won’t strike in,” said Dorothy,
methodically and busily catching and
dipping the Leghorns. .
They were plump, pretty creatures,
the best flock, although a small one,
in the neighborhood. Dorothy had
taken infinite pains with them, as
Dan knew, and kept every remedy
and mixture on the market for them.
The meanness of the chicken thieves
came over him as he saw his sister
among her petted flock.
“1 declare, those fellows ought to
be shot, stealing honest people's
shickens!” he cried, warmly.
“If they steal mine something will
happen,” said Dorothy. She set down
the last Legharn pullet to shake out
its rufled feathers and walk off on
its Minorca hued legs.
‘It will happen to the hens, not
to the thieves, I'm thinking. In an-
pther v.eek, Dot, you'll probably not
have a chicken left to try toilet prep-
arations on. Cassandra was no
chicken herself—I'm not sure that
she ever saw a chicken—and I'm not
dressed for her part, but I'll be Cas-
sandra on this occasion. [I prophesy
disaster, and I have faith that my
prophec; is the true Cassandra,
kind!”
It certainly was. Two mornings
later the chicken yard lay deseolute—
not one cherished Leghorn left. There
were wagon tracks in the lame, in
the soft places left by the rain. But
they told nothing, and were soon .ost
on the beaten highroad. A piece of
newspaper was found near the gate.
But it was only a scrap of the local
paper, the Warrendale Gazette, and
had no identifying mark whatever.
“Dan,” said Dorothy, ‘will you let
me have the light buggy and Rex?”
*What for?”
: *Never mind.”
i *Don’t you want me to go aleng?”’
“No, thank you.” Dorothy disap-
peared into the house. She drove
off five minutes later with a mysteri-
ous box, carefully brought out and
packed under the seat by her own
hands.
“I’m going to take dinner at Cous-
fn Mary’s, in town,” she said, and
Dan was left to conjecture her errand
as Best he might. Of two things,
jowever, he felt equally sure. One
was that she was after the chicken
thieves; the other was that she
would not find them.
By PRISCILLA LEONARD.
philosopher, and went off to dig the
potatoes.
Young Frank Evans,station master,
ticket seller, telegraph operator and
freight and express agent of Milby
Junction, six miles away, thought
Dorothy the prettiest girl in the town-
ship as she drove up to the-platform.
He had thought so since they went®
to scheol together in'pinafores.
Perhaps Dorothy krew it, too. At
any rate, she came to him prepared
to rely upon his utmost assistance.
“Frank,” she began, as he hitched
Rex for her, ‘do you ship many
crates of poultry from here, or bar-
rels of dressed poultry?”
“Yes, I ship a good many,” said
Evans. “Why do you ask?”
“I've just had all my white Leg-
horns stolen—-forty of them. Every
one round here is losing chickens.
Now those chickens have to be mar-
keted somewhere—and not around
here. It’s fifty miles to the city,
which is the safest place to market
them. If I stole chickens, I'd freight
them down, dressed and packed in
barrels. "So I thought if anybody
round here was doing the thieving
and the thieves, whoever they are,
take the local paper, and certainly
do know this part of the county as
well as their hand — I might get
some hint from your shipments.”
“That's a first rate idea,” said the
young man. ‘‘But I don’t remember
any special shipper of dressed poul-
try in barrels. The Walter boys pack
that way, but I guess we're not sus-
pecting them! Mrs. Dixon sends a
barrel now and then. So do the peo-
ple on the Lawrence farm; that's
been an experimental poultry farm
for the last year. I hear they report
they lost badly through a raid by
the thicves two months ago. The
Elliotts, over at Orwell, send dressed
poultry, too, but never very much.
It doesn’t seem 3
“No, it doesn’t,” said Dorothy,
looking perplexed. ‘‘But these chick-
ens have got to get to market, Frank,
somehow. I've started to hunt this
county over till I find what's become
of them. I guess I'd better drive to
the other stations up and down the
road. They'd be likely tc choose a
stupid agent to ship through, so I
don’t wonder they keep away from
here.”
Then she flushed at having paid
Frank a compliment, and Frank
flushed, too, with pleasure, for he
knew that his pretty schoolmate
never said things unless she meant
them. It put him on his mettle.
“But see here, Dorothy, why do
you ‘have to drive up and down the
road? What's the matter with my
telegraphing instead? Come in and
sit down, and I'll get you all the in-
formation you want in half an hour.”
So Dorothy sat and listened to the
clicking wires, and took some brief
notes on a telegraph pad that Frank
pushzad over to her across the table.
“Wagner, at Dorrance station, says
that the Lawrence farm sends a bar-
rel now and then and a crate occa-
sionally. The Widow Ransom is the
hcaviest shipper-—sends both crates
and barrels. Jones, at Pond station,
says Hank Janeway ships a barrel
sometimes; so does the Lawrence
farm. The Browns send a crate now
and then—white Leghorns and Ply-
mouth Rocks. Collins, at Pelham
Junction, says that Mrs. Robinson
ships more than anybody else, but
Jim Henry sends a barrel or a crate
now and then, and so does the Law-
rence people—Plymouth Rocks, most-
ly. King, at Bellevue station, says
everybody sends in crates, except a
barrel now and then from the Lawv-
rence people and Sally Walker.”
Frank leaned back and whistled
softly. Dorothy smiled and pushed
the telegraph pad under his eyes.
Five underlinings marked the name
‘Lawrence’ repeated in each of the
five reports from Milby, Dorrance,
Pond, Pelham and Bellevue.
“You clever girl!” said Frank.
“You've got hold of the right end. No
honest poultry farm ever shipped
that much to the city, and through
five different stations in small lots.
But supposing it’s so, how are we go-
ing to prove it? The man doesn’t live
who can identify an ordinary white
Leghorn hen or Plymouth Rock pul-
let.”
“But the girl does!” cried Dorothy,
triumphantly. ‘Since day before
yesterday I can pick out any one of
my forty Leghorns with absolute cer-
“Dot might as well be going to a;
sewing circle; but then, it diverts her
mind from her loss,” said the young |
tainty, Frank. I-——I dipped their
lege, every one of them, in a fast
black that won't come off, so that I
‘the idea of — thieves.
SIE
could know them again if they were
stolen.”
Frank Evans lay back in his chair
and laughed delightedly.
“Dorothy, you always were at the
head of the class,” he said, heartily.
“But what are you going to do
now?”
said Dorothy, unfastening the hitch-
ing strap.
“You mustn't do that. They might
do you an injury. Wait till I can get
a constable and a search warrant.
You mustn't go alone, Dorothy. 1
won't have it.”
“I don’t: mind a search warrant,”
said Dorothy, with composure. ‘‘That
is what I brought this for.”
She pulled out the mysterious box,
and disclosed various brightly labeled
bottles and packages. ‘I am Mise
Jane Smith, Frank, agent for these
poultry remedies, which I am driv-
ing about the county introducing
among intelligent poultry farmers. I
shall get into the Lawrence chicken
vards, and come away again without
any trouble, thank you. But I should
like the constable to be at the end of
the lane, ready to come in a little
later.”
“I'll get Dick Williams to tend the
station,” said Frank, “and drive over
with you past the constable’s; and
he’ll hitch up and follow us to the
Lawrence place, and you can drop me
in the lane when we get there. Then
I'll be right in call. I'll not have you
go alone, I tell you.”
“Oh, I shall be glad enough to
have you within reach,” said Dorothy,
frankly. “I do feel a little queer at
But I know
they won't suspect me or give m
any trouble.” ses
Nevertheless, it was a somewhat
timid young agent who hitched her
horse at the Lawrence gate, having
left a young man down in the lane be-
hind the hedges waiting for Consta-
ble Parry’s slow old mare to come
along.
“I have some very good poultry
remedies here,” she began, taking a
couple of bottles from her box as a
rough looking youth come from
round the house. ‘If your chickens
suffer from roup, I have a special an-
tiseptic mixture here which is an un-
failing remedy. I am introducing
also a cholera preventative and cura-
tive, to be mixed in soft food, and—"’
“Jim might like that roup medi-
cine. He fancies them sort of
things,” said the lad. ‘Come this
way, Miss,” and Dorothy and her bot-
tles were escorted around a corner to
the chicken yards—suspiciously small
for the amount of poultry shipped.
Here are some Plymouth Rocks,
fat and placid, and a group of buff
Wyandottes; and plenty of Leghorns
in the further yard, where a man was
catching them, one after another, and
killing them as if .for market.
“Hi, Jim,” called out the youth.
“I'll go over, and not bring him
out from his work,” said Dorothy,
hurrying forward. While she pro-
duced her bottles and urged her
wares, she saw all she needed in the
plump pullet that “Jim” held, with
its legs showing black against the
white feathers. She hurried through
her sentences, but the man seemed
interested. He had a smooth man-
ner, but “shifty” eyes. *
“I’ve got some Brahmas with the
roup,”’ he said. ‘‘Guess I'll try a bot-
tle or two of that. Got any more
with you?”
‘““There’s another bottle in the wag-
on,” sald Dorothy, in a professional
tone. “I'll get it.” She flew back
to the gate, and looking down the
lane, beckoned in haste to the two
men who stood there, waiting im-
patiently. Then returning with the
bottle, she had just handed it over
to Jim, when Frank and the constable
came upon them.
It was rather an exciting scene
after that, for not only did Dorothy
pick out her stolen Leghorns, dead
and alive, but Constable Parry found
one or two of his fine Brahmas that
he said he could swear to.
The roughly dressed youth tried
to run. Jim showed fight for a mo-
ment, but found Frank’s muscular
hand on his collar, and thought bet-
ter of it. In the end the two sus-
pects were marched to the constable’s
wagon, and driven off to the justice's,
while Dorothy followed with one of
the marked and murdered Leghorns
as the corpus delicti.
‘“He’s only killed ten of mine,
Frank,” she said. ‘‘But if you and
the constable hadn't been there, the
other thirty would have been candi-
dates for the barrel in a few minutes
more.”
“Don’t give us any of the glory,”
said Frank, as he helped her into the
buggy. “We don’t deserve it. It’s
the cleverest bit of detective work I
ever knew, and it’s all yours. Your
chicken trade mark is a stroke of
genius, Dorothy. It did the busi-
ness.” 3
And at the trial, when the whole
county were shown to have been con-
tributors to the Lawrence chicken
vards, and the clever methods of the
thieves were exposed, it was still
Dorothy’s testimony, first and fore-
most, that convicted them.
“Dot, I take that all back about
yur not being practical,” said Dan.
“Three cheers for Miss Jane Smith
and the great roup mixture!”’—
Youth’s Companion.
Poor Henry.
“Very probably I'm a stupid
chump,” said the reader, “but I must
confess I don't like Henry James’
novels.”
‘“O! you are not necessarily a
chump,” replied the critic. “The
people who don’t like his novels are
divided into two classes—those who
don’t understand him and those who
do.”’—Philadelphia Press.
RTT ETRE
“I’m going to the Lawrence farm,”
fluence of that one life.
Our Millionaires Are
Our Greatest Failures. =
William Allen
White, in
ern life are our millionaires. As a
rule they have accumulated money
without giving society a just and
equitable return for that money;
they have acquired what seems to
them a vast amount of power, with-
out intelligence to use it, and they
are going through life looking for
joy and happiness, but finding only
pleasure that burns out their souls
and does not satisfy their hearts. To
get their money they have developed
their cunning and stunted their can-
dor; they have deceived and bul-
lied and sometimes killed the man in
their own hearts, and have let a
demon lustful for gain reign in their
souls. Often the man who was
killed lingers in an empty heart—a
pious ghost, full of wise saws and
good intentions, and the crackling
laughter of the fool, but the good
man is only a ghost; he has no real
part in the rich man’s life. Suppos-
ing the pious ghost that haunts the
richest man in the world desired to
set aside half of his millions to pro-
mote the cause of the Christian re-
ligion. His money would accom-
plish but little. The worst blow the
organized Christian religion might
have would be that money. For the
man’s life is so well known, his char-
acter is so thoroughly despised, that
all the preaching of the paid preach-
ers would be futile against the in-
“How can
I’hear what you say,” says Emerson,
“when what you are keeps thunder-
ing in my ears?” The example of
one poor man laying down his life in
a fire or in a flood for humanity is
worth more to the cause of righteous-
ness than all the millions for which
the rich man has strangled his man-
hood or bartered away his soul,
Money does not pass current in the
real world of service. It is false coin
there. Churchmen need not worry
about tainted money. If it is tainted,
God will not accept it. For what
God needs in this world is not money
—but service—service that comes
from the God-implanted instinct to
help one’s fellows. The failures of
this life may heap the golden evi-
dences of their failures mountain-
high, and donate them to the cause
of righteousness, and they will avail
less than the testimony amd the hon-
est service of one poor man who has
succeeded by living manfully. Men
cannot cheat and steal and kill and
oppress their fellows, and then buy
their way into the happiness that
comes from real usefulness to man-
kind; the peace that’ passeth under-
standing is not to be purchased with
stolen money, even though the rob-
ber shall present it as a sacrifice, and
even though he shall lay it upon the
altar in seven figures. The million-
aire of to-day may not buy indulg-
ences any more than the rich man of
Martin Luther's time. ' Christ said
to the Magdalen, ‘‘Go sin no more,”
and to the rich young man, ‘“‘Sell that
thou hast, give to the poor,” and then
“come and follow Me.” Christ had
no more thought of spreading His
cause by the money of one sinner
than by the money of another. And
the chiefest proof of Christ's divinity
is not in the miracles, nor in the
signs and wonders, but in the fact
that He knew that the gearing of the
world is not turned toward the mil-
lenium by money or by the power
that comes through worldly success,
but by service of man to man, with-
out money, and without the power
that money can buy. Money has its
place in our social organization. It
can feed the bodies of men; but a
dollar nor a million dollars never fed
a soul. For souls grow, only as life
has grown on this planet, by service
to one‘s fellow creatures.
But answer will be made that this
is a practical world, and not a world
of dreams and theories. Men will
say, take away the love of money,
even though it be the root of all evil,
and you take away the fire that gen-
erates the steam in the epgines of
our civilization. And to those sit-
ting in the seats of the scornful we
may answer that this is indeed a
practical world, but that the scrap
heap of antiquity is littered with the
ruins of practical worlds. Also if
the love of money produces the steam
of our civilization, then sooner or
later the fires must go out, and if
we would hold the steam we must
change the fuel. And we must ask
those who question us, and we must
ask ourselves, if indeed, and in truth,
the love of money does hold the fire
that runs the engines of our civili-
zation. Let us take a look at the
thing we call civilization, and see
how it is going.
We know America fairly well; it
is probably as highly civilized as any
other part of the globe. In New
York City there are said to be five
thousand millionaires. Probably
there are ten thousand or even let us
say twenty thousand men who are
nearly millionaires, and fifty thou-
sand more who are living in the
blessed hope of becoming millionaires
reasonably soon. Their hopes of
course are based largely on being
fable to tear down the real million-
aires and to share in the fallen for-
tunes. Let us say that there are one
hundred thousand people who cer-
tainly are inspired by the love of
money. These hundred thousand
people have killed the social instincts
in their own hearts. They serve their
fellows only for the money there is
in it. They live parasitic existences.
But what of the three million other
men and women in New York? Is
the civilization of New York depend-
ent upon the hundred thousand para-
sites, or is it dependent upon the
three million people? Three million
people are working day by day for
money with which to buy the necessi-
ties and comforts and luxuries of
life. The three million people devote
eight hours every day to money get-
ting; but what of the other sixteen
hours during the day? In the eight
waking hours tHat are left what a
vast amount of work is done for the
love of it; and as we descend to those
levels which are falsely called the
lower levels of society—to the poor
— what a vast amount of social work
is done without the thought of pay.
The nursing of the sick, the care of
motherless children, the feeding of
those below the line of subsistence,
the helping and shielding and sooth-
ing that is done by the poor to the
poor every day, if paid for in dollars
would make the hundred thousand
millionaires poor at sunset.
The spirit of social service is in
the masses of all our people. One
finds it throughout the land, among
workmen who join unions, among
farmers who put in their sick neigh-
bor’s crops. and country-bred people
who come to one another’s help in a
thousand neighborly ways in time of
trouble. The work that is done for
money to buy comforts for the work-
er himself is but a small per cent. of
the work done in this worldy it is the
work done by fathers for their fam-
ilies, by mothers for their children,
by neighbors for one another—all in-
stinctively following the divine in-
spiration of social help—that has
made our civilization grow and
spread all over America. The great
inventors are not rich; the great
moral and spiritual leaders of men
.are not.rich, and the greatest of our
political leaders die .poor. This is
indeed a practical world; ‘that much
we must grant to those who sit in
high places and scoff; but it is made
a practical world by those who, with-
out money, do practical work for the
practical benefit of their fellows, and
who, perhaps, without professing re-
ligion, are living the spirit of Chris-
tianity in their simple reiations with
their real neighbors more surely than
those who have killed their souls for
money, and let the ghosts of them-
selves haunt their lives, canting, in-
effective spectres hectoring the
corpse!
THE SILENT OPINION.
What Men Think of Women and
Women of Men.
Most men have some silent opin-
ions about women and most women
abcut men. There are certain types
of face, certain kinds of manner, cer-
tain methods of expression even, for
which many men and women are ut-
terly condemned in the minds of
some of their brothers and sisters.
A disposition to dislike certain types
of face is at times so strong as to
suggest a previous existence.
‘We do not openly say that all wom-
en with such and such eyebrows are
hard hearted or that a man must be
a charlatan if the color of his eyes
and hair contradict each other, but
we act continually upon notions hard-
ly less unreasonable. Educated men
with small vocabularies, for instance,
are divided as a rule by clever wom-
en into fools by birth and self-made
fools, according to whether their
want of equipment be ascribed to na-
ture or to affectation.
To the first they are indifferent;
to the latter they have almost always
a more or less active dislike. Such
men are often able, a fact their own
sex invariably recognize. The man
whose words are few and ill chosen
may be a man of prompt and rea-
soned action, who having been
brought up among the silent wise or
the garrulous silly deprecates the
waste of pains occasioned by the
game of talk. All mental athletics
bore him just as physical athletics
bore others.
In the same way the fact that a
man pretends to know no more words
than a savage may be a matter of
awkward though genuine humility—
a fear of pretending to a culture he
does not possess—or an act of super-
ficial conformity to a passing fashion
among a small set. It may have no
more to do with his real mind than
an ugly figure or an ill cut coat. Cir-
cumstances will sometimes convince
even a clever woman of these facts
so far as a given man is concerned,
but she will never alter her silent
opinion as to the generality.
Clever women are very hard on
the men they imagine to be fools.
Able men, on the other hand, are not
at all hard on women they know to
be stupid. Where youth and beauty
are concerned the fact is easily une
derstood, but youth and beauty by
no means explain the whole of thid
phenomenon. Many men are in-
clined to think that the kind of men-
tal power in women which we collo-
quially call brains exists in inverse
ratio to their common sense and
serves only to carry them with fatig-
uing rapidity through verbal fallacies
to a false conclusion.—IL.ondon Specs
tator,
Out of Danger.
Doctor Whipple, long Bishop of
Minnesota, was about to hold relig-
fous services near an Indian village in
one of the Western States, and before
going to the place of meeting asked
the chief, who was his host, whether
it was safe for him to leave his effects
unguarded in the lodge.
“Plenty safe,” grunted the red
man. ‘No white man in a hundred
miles from here.”-—Woman’s Home
Companion.
Too Much LU pathy.
“Does your rheumatism bother you
much?” “I should say it did. Every
idiot I meet asks questions about it.”
—Cleveland Leader.
A Woman’s Back
Has many aches and pains caused by
wealnesses and falling, or other displace-
ment, of the pelvic organs. Other symp-
toms of female weakness are frequent
headache, dizziness, imaginary specks or
dark spots floating before the eyes, gnaw-
i..g sensation in stomach, dragging or
bearing down in lower abdominal or pelvic
region, disagrecable drains from pelvic
crgans, faint spells with general weakness.
If any censiderable number of the above
symptoms sre present there is no remedy,
ive quicker relief or a more per-
than Dr. Pierce’s Favorite.
t has a record of over forty
of the glyceric extracts of native medici-
nal roots found in our forests and con-
tains not a drop of alcohol or harmful, or
habit-forming drugs. Its ingredients are
all printed on the bottle-wrapper and at-
tested under oath as correct.
Every ingredient entering into “Fa-
vorite Prescription” has the written en-
dorsement of the most eminent medical
writers of all the several schools of prac-
tice—more valuable than any amount of
non-professional testimonials—though the
latter are not lacking, having been con-
tributed voluntarily by grateful patients
in numberg to exceed the endorsements
given to any other medicine extant for
the cure of woman’s ills.
You cannot afford to accept any medicine
of unknown composition as a substitute
for this well proven remedy OF KNOWN
COMPOSITION, even though the dealer may
make a little more profit thereby. Your
interest in regaining health is paramount
to any selfish interest of his and it isan
insult to your intelligence for him to try
to palm off upon you a substitute. You
know what. you want and it is his busi-
ness to supply the article called for.
Dr. Pierce’s Pleasant Pellets are the
original “Little Liver Pills” first put up
by old Dr. Pierce over forty years ago,
much imitated but never equaled. Little
sugar-coated granules—eagy to take as
candy. g
years of cu It is the most tent
inyigoratin i d_strengtheni ~
vige mn to medical sine t is made
Hindoos Get Jobs.
Owing to the restriction of Chi
nese immigrants in Canada during
the last few ycars large numbers of
Hndoos have becn coming into the
port of Vancouver and securing work
as laborers im mills and mines:
WORST CASE OF ECZEMA.
Spread Rapidly Over Body—Limbs and
Arms Had to Be Bandaged—Mar-
velous Cure by Cuticura.
“My son, who is now twenty-two years °
of age, when he was four months old he-
gan to have eczema on his face, spreading
quite rapidly until he was nearly covered.
We had all the doctors around us, and
some from larger places, but no one helped
him a particle. The eczema was some-
thing terrible, and the doctors said it was
the worst case they ever saw. At times
his whole body and face were covered, all
but his feet. 1 had to bandage his limbs
and arms; his scalp was just dreadful. A
friend teased me to try Cuticura, and I
began to use all three of the Cuticura
Remedies. He was better in two months,
and in six months he was well. Mrs. R.
L. Risley, Piermont, N. H., Oct. 24, 1905.”
Every month about 3,700 articles
are left in the Berlin street cars by
their owners, about 600 of them being
women's purses. »
The Ideal Family Laxative
is one that can be used by the entire
family, young and old, weak and Tongs
without any danger of harmful effects. It
should have properties which insure the
same dose always having the same effect,
otherwise the quantity will have to be in-
creased and finally losc its effect alto-
gether. These properties can be found im
that old family remedy, Brandreth’s Pills,
because its ingredients are of the purest -
herbal extracts, and every pill is kept for
three years before bein,
lows them to mellow. We de not believe
there is a laxative on the mark~t that i
so carefully made.
Brandreth’s Pills are the same fine lax
ative tonic pill your grandparents used.
They have been in use for over a century
and are sold in every drug store and medi
cine store, either plain or“sugar-coated.
In London. on September 4 there
were 19,998 registered motor cars.
Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup for Children
teething, softens thegums,reducesinflamma-
tion, allays pain, cures wind colic, 25c a bottle
Voicanic Dust Reaches Paris.
Paris was overspread with a dry,
vellowish fog the morning of April
11 of this year. A scientist, believ-
ing that the fog had been caused by
the eruption of Aount Vesuvius, plac-
ed upon the roof of his dwelling a
series of plates covered with glycerin
to catch the dust in the fog. It was
was found that part of the deposit on
the plates was a very fine sand, com-
pletely identical with the ash sent up
by Vesuvius in 1822. In addition to
this sand the fog contained some per-
fectly spherical globules of oxidized
iron.
Thousands of
women suffer,
daily backache,
headache, dizzy
spells, languor,
nervousness and
a = dozen other
symptoms of kid-
rey trouble, but
lay it to other
causes. Make no
mistake. Keep
the kidneys well,
and these aches
and troubles will
disappear.
Mrs. Anthony
Cadrette, 77 Mechanic St., Leomins-
ter, Mass., says: “My sight failed, I
had sharp pain in my back and bear-
ing-down pains through the hips. I
was nervous, fretful! and miserable.
The urine was greatly disordered and
[ began to have the swellings of
iropsy. I was running down fast
when I started using Doan’s Kidney
Pills. A wonderful change came and
after using them faithfully for a
short time I was well.”
Sold by all dealers. 50 cents a box.
Foster-Milburn Co., Buffalo, N. Y.
sold, which al--
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