THE PATTON COURIER The Desert Moon Mystery CHAPTER 1 as The Cannezianos I knew, that evening in April, when Bam got home from Rattail and came stamping snow into my kitchen, his good old red, white and blue face stretched long and wide in its usual grin, that he had brought some bad news with him. “l had a letter today,” he said, “from ‘he Canneziano twins.” I am like a lot of folks who say that they are not superstitious, who just bappen to think that it is bad luck to walk under a ladder. More than likely the shivery, creepy sensation 1 felt. when Sam sald that, was due to the cold he brought in with him, and was not due to the fact that those words of his were the forerunners for all of the grim mysteries and the trag- edies that made the Desert Moon ranch, before the end of July, a place of horror, “How much do they want?" I ques tioned. “No, Mary; they want to come here to live. Danielle wrote the letter. She says they want to come here and rest, indefinitely, She says she longs Por it with all her soul, or something lke that.” “Dantielie,” I sald, “always was the best of the two. You going to let them come, Sam?” “Anything else for me to do?” “Not a thing—for you. There'd be plenty of others. Those girls are no kin of yours. Let me see—eight pears old when they were here in 1909. maxes them twenty-four years old now, according to my figures. Why a couple of women twins, ag- gregating forty-eight years, should de- cide to come here and rest their souls, at your expense, is beyond me.” “I have plenty.” “So has Henry Ford. Why don't they go rest their souls with him? They've got as much claim on him as they have on you. None. Leave those girls rest their souls right there where they are, Sam.” “No—1 don’t know, Mary. I guess Pll write them a letter and tell them to come along. Lots of room.” I didn’t argue any more about it. For twenty-five years I had been housekeeper of the Desert Moon ranchhouse, and I had learned, during that time, that there was only one subject, concerning Sam, or the place, on which I could never hope to have any say-so. Trying to argue with Sam about anything that had to do, in any way, with Margarita Ditsie, when she was Margarita Ditsie Stan- ley, or when she was Margarita Ditsie Canneziano, was about as sensible as hoisting a chiffon parasol for pro- tection in the midst of one of our Nevada mountain cloudbursts. Margarita Ditsie was of French- Canadian parentage; a dark-haired, big-eyed beauty. Her father kept a gambling hole in Esmeralda county in the early days. Her mother had run away from a convent, after she had become a nun, to marry him. The girl had some of the nun, some of the runaway, and some of the gambling house proprietor in her. It made a queer combination. ~hen she was eighteen years old she came from Carson to visit Lily Trooper, over on the Three Bars ranch, about sixty miles from here. Sam met her there. She and Sam were married two weeks later, She was a lot younger than Sam; but, even then, he was the richest man in the valley, with every unwedded wom- an for a hundred miles around setting ber cap for him. Whether Margarita married him for his wealth, or whether it was to spite the other girls who would have liked to marry him, I don’t know. All | know is that Margarita never had a mite of love for him. She stayed with him, though. and acted decently enough for two years, until Dan Canneziano came to the ranch and got a job on it as a cowpuncher., It was during those two years that Sam built this ranchhouse for her. Sam's lead and silver mine had just come In, and there was not anything, from {talian marble fireplaces to teak. wood floors, that was too grand for what Margarita called the Stanley mansion. She left it, all the elegance and the luxury, and she broke her marriage vows, for love of this wop cowpuncher. That, | guess, Is fair and full enough description of Marga- rita Canneziano. 1 don’t blame her. 1 quit blaming folks for things a good many years ago when, after firing three Chinese cooks in six weeks, | decided that. if we were to live healthy and whole some, I'd have to take over the job of cooking as well as housekeeping for the Desert Moon ranch, and set about it, and learned to cook. In other words, when | became a creator myself, 1 got to know creations and so quit blaming all of them. If 1 forget to put the soda In the sour milk pancakers, it isn’t their fault if they don't rise. They are as I made them. Margarita was as the Lord muade her. He, | suppose, either had His own good reasons for turning out such a mess, or else He was tired, or flustered. or maybe, wus just experi. menting on the road to something bet- ter when He did It 1 should explain, 1 suppose, wish ing to be as honest as possible in spite of the fact that | am writing u mys tery story, that Canneziane had a good education; he talked poetry, and played the violin. Margarita heard him playing, down In the outtit's quar ters one day, and had Sam Invite him up to the house to play. She accom- panied him on the grand piano that Sam had bought for her. Before long, Dan Canneziano was spending a good part of his time at the ranchhouse. Sam, being nobody's fool, soon saw how the land lay; but he, according to his custom then and now, kept his mouth shut and his eyes open. Sure enough, one evening they tried to elope together. Sam went after them and brought them back. The three ¢f them had about half an hour's talk together. Then Sam herded (Canneziano down to the outfit’s quarters and, I suppose, told the men to keep him there, for there he stayed until Sam was ready for him again. The next morning Sam started to the county seat. He reached there that evening. The following morning he got his divorce. He came back to the Desert Moon on the third morning, with his divorce and with a preacher. He sent for Canneziano, and stood by. while the preacher married Margarita Stanley to Daniel Canneziano, decent and regular, according to the laws of Nevada. There {it should have ended. It didn’t, because Sam never got over loving Margarita. So when, nine years later, she came back to the Desert Moon, with twin girls, Danielle and Gabrielle, and said that Canneziano had deserted her and the children Sam took them all right in. I don’t know, yet, whether or not they took him in. Certainly he did not show much surprise when, in about ten days, Canneziano put in an appearance. Sam allowed him to get a good start with his threats, and then he took him across his knees and gave him a sound spanking, and passed him over to Margarita to dry his tears, and washed his own hands and went fishing. That evening he had one of the men hitch up and take the whole kit and caboodle of Cannezianos to Rattail in time to catch the east-bound train. I am ashamed to say that Sam gave them money. I don’t know how much. A tidy sum, I'll be bound, for shortly after we heard that Canneziano had opened the finest gambling house south of the Mason and Dixon line, in New Orleans. Sam wanted to keep the children. He offered to adopt them. Margarita would not consider it. When Margarita died, In France, seven years after she had paid us her blackmailing visit, Sam, the ninny, wrote to Canneziano and again offered to adopt the girls and give them a good home on the Desert Moon. He got a few insulting, insinuating lines for an answer. Canneziano had his own plans for his daughters, who had developed into rare beauties. But, if Sam was soft with the wom- en, he was not soft with Canneziano. He had showed up here, beaming and broke, about three years ago. He had left, suddenly, after having seen Sam and no one else, less beaming but quite as broke as he had been when he had come. 1 thought, may- be, Sam was forgetting that side of the family, and that this might be a good time to remind him, “Is Canneziano planning to come on later, too, and rest?” 1 asked. “Just at present he is in San Quen- tin, serving a three years’ term. Danielle didn’t say for what deviltry. His term's up this summer. Poor little girls,” Sam want on, “I reckon we haven't any idea of what they've been through, all these years.” “I reckon not,” I agreed. “But they aren't little girls any more. Segqms queer to me, with all the beauty their father was bragging about, that neither of them has married. Twen- ty-four is getting along.” “I'll bet,” Sam answered, “it is be- cause they have never had any decent opportunities. Considering the life that they've had to lead, and all, 1 think it speaks pretty well for them that they have come through straight and clean.” Instead of asking him how he knew that, 1 said, “You'd be willing, then, to have John marry cne of them?” John, Sam's adopted son, was the apple of Sam's eye. He would have the ranch, and Sam’s fortune, other dependents provided for, when Sam died. Whether or not the girl he mar-* ried would be contented to live on the ranch, and help John carry it on and keep up its traditions, making it one of the proudest spots in Nevada, was a nighty Important thing to Sam. He waited so long before answering my question that | was sure I had hit the nail ~n the head. “John,” he tinally said, “is old enough to take care of himself.” With that he turned and went out of my kitchen, not giving me a chance to say that, though 1 had lived through fifty-six years, | had never set seen a man at the age he had just men tioned. 1 knew that if these (an. neziano girls came to the Desert Moon, they would bring trouble with them. [I was right. A merciful Provi. dence be thanked that, for a time at least, the knowledge of how ter ribly right 1 was, was spared me, I am not an adnirer of men. Look. ing at most any man, | find myselt thinking what a pity it was he had to grow up, since as a little, helpless child he would have made a complete success. Sum Stanley is different. There Is some of the child left in Sam, just as there is, | think, {a any good man or by Kay Cleaver Strahan © by Doubleday Doran Co., Inc, WNU Service woman-—a little seasoning of sim. plicity, really, is all it amounts to— but there is a quality about Sam that makes a person feel that he set out, early in life, to follow the recipe for being a man, and that he has made a thorough job of it. Why he, as a young man, with a pretty fair education and a tidy sum of money left him by his father, who had been a well-thought-of lawyer in Massachusetts, should come out here to Nevada, take up his homestead land, and settle content for the rest of his life, has always been more or less of a mystery to me, unless you take Sam’s explanation of It. He says that, when his father died. it left him without a relative, whom he knew of, in the world. He was twenty years old, and he owned a set He Left Suddenly After Having Seen Sam and No One Else. of roving toes and an imagination. So he went to California, seeking ro- mance and gold. Finding neither, he came down here to Nevada. He staked out his hundred and sixty acres with Boulder creek tumbling and roaring through them. He built his cabin. He hired help, and built fences, and dug ditches, and planted crops, and bought stock. He bought more land. He hired more help, dug more ditches, planted bigger crops, bought more stock. He has been do- ing that regularly ever since. And, of course, he located the lead and silver mine, on his property, that made him millions if it made him a cent, before it played out. But, in spite of the money that “Old Lady Luck,” as he called his mine, made for him, Sam never gave his heart to it. It was the Desert Moon ranch that he loved, and the money he made from it that he was proud of. That was why, when the honor of the ranch went under, during those terrible weeks last summer, Sam all but went under with it. After Margarita left the place from her visit of 1909, taking the twins with her, Sam went around for a week or two, with his head cocked to one side as if he was listening for something. | knew what he was miss. ing, and I was not surprised when, one day, he told me he had decided to send to San Francisco and get a couple of children and adopt them, He wrote to a big hospital in San Francisco and got in touch with a trained nurse who would be willing to come up and live on the ranch and take care of the two children. He had her go to an orphan's home and select the children and bring them with her when she came. The nurse came early in Septem ber with two brown-eyed children named Vera and Alvia. Sam at once re-named them. John, he said, was the only name for a boy, and Mary the only name for a girl. But since my name wus Mary, he would let the little girl have Martha, which meant. according to Sam, “Boss of the Ranch.” The nurse’s name was Mrs. Ollie Ricker. I don't know how old she was then. 1 don’t know how old she is now. She never talked. | do not mean that she never chatted, or gos siped. 1 mean that she never said one word if she could possibly avoid it. At the end of sixteen years of daily association with Mrs. Ricker, that is, up to the time of the second murder on the Desert Moon, I knew exactly as much about her past life as you know at this minute. John, at that time, was nine years old. He was as bright, and as up standing, and as handsome, as any little fellow to be found anywhere. | may as well say, now, that this de scription of John, at nine years old. is as good a description as [ can give of John at twenty-five, if you will draw his beight up to six feet, and put on weight accordingly. The papers fron the orphanage gave Martha's age as five years; but even 1, who knew less about children than it was decent for any woman to know, «oon saw that something was wrong. She walked well enough, but she could scarcely talk at all. Her ways and her habits were those of a two-year-old infant, yet she was far too large for that age. Before she had been with us a week I knew that Martha was not quite right in her mind. Mrs. Ricker knew fit, too. Her ex- cuse was, that she had chosen Martha because she was so pretty; that she had had no opportunity to judge her other characteristics. She insisted that she thought, with proper care. Martha would develop normally. I knew better, Sam knew fit, too. But, when I begged and besought him not to adopt her, he brought out an argument good and conclusive for him. “If 1 don’t adopt her, and take care of her,” said Sam, “who the heck would?” So adopt her he did. And ae spent a small fortune on doctors, specialists, for her. None of them could do any- thing. It was, they said, a hopeless case of retarded development. So, at twenty-one years of age, Martha, though the care and doctoring had given her a fine healthy body, had the mind of a child of five or six years— not too bright a child, either. That was at best. At worst—Well, no mat. ter. Entirely harmless, the doctors said; but I always bad my doubts. CHAPTER II Arrivals at the Ranch It was three years after Mrs. Ricker came to the ranch, bringing John and Martha, that Hubert Hand put in his appearance. He had got Mr. Indian Chat Chin, as everybody called him, to bring him up from Rattail in his old surrey. Mr. Indian Chat Chin stopped his old nag at the entrance to the drive way, and Hubert Hand climbed care- fully down and came up the road, swinging a walking cane like he was leading a parade. Sam and 1, as was our custom, went walking down to meet him, Phrase “Stone Age” Not Literal in Application The Stone age is a term commonly used to denote the earliest recognized stage in the development of human culture as defined by the materials used by man for weapons, utensils, ete. The phrase is somewhat mislead ing, since it is probable that primitive man made use of wood and other perishable materials to a far greater extent than of stone, and consequently the stage is defined by the prevailing material of the relics, not by that of actual implements in common use. The term “Stone age” represents in no sense a chronological division of hu- man progress, but is a loose equivalent for a stage of cultural development varying widely in duration in different parts of the world. There are, e. g., tribes still in the Stone age, while, on the other hand, some groups had out: Recipe for a Perfect Day A day is just as perfect as you want te make it. Helen Christine Bennett gives a perfect day decalogue in an article for the Physical Culture Mag: azine. She writes: “1. | wake up. Stretch. 2. Get a cheerful frame of mind. 3 Drink a glass of cool water. 4. Take ten minutes setting-up exercises. 05. ake a shower—warm, then cool. 6 Don't eat tco much breakfast 7. Re fuse to rush. 8. Walk part way to work. 9. Don't worry while In your office. 10. Rest before your dinner and dont work evenings.” grown it before the dawn of history. It is also worth noting that some tribes commonly classed as belonging to the Stone age produced objects of a superior artistic and industrial merit to those who had advanced to the use of metals. The evidence for the ex- istence of such an age in most parts of the world is conclusive, but it is from the prevalence and character of the relics in certain parts of Europe rather than In America that the idea and term have come into general use. Famous Song Not Burns’ Although the words of the song “Auld Lang Syne” appear in Burns’ works, he himself, admits that he wrote only the second and third stan- zas. A song of the same title can be traced to the latter part of 1600. In a letter to George Thomson, Septem- ber, 1793, Burns says “One song more [ have done, ‘Auld Lang Syne. The air is hut mediocre but the following song, the old song of the olden times, and which has never been in print nor even In manuscript until I took it down from- an- old man's singing, is enough to recommend any air,” Mark of Gentleman We are just men and women deal ing with just ordinary human beings like ourselves. Let's treat them just like we would want them to treat us. Consideration for others is the dis tingu'shing trait of the gentleman.— P. 8. 2rkwright. He took off his hat to me, and said to Sam, “1 wish to see the owner of this ranch.” “Nobody ever mistook me for a fairy before,” Sam said. “But go ahead. Your first wish is granted. What are the other two?” Hubert Hand got out his card then. Besides nis name it had *“Clover-blos- som Creamery,” and the San Fran- cisco address printed on it. Hubert Hand explained that he had an up-and coming creamery business in San Francisco, but that his physi- cian had told him that he had to live in a high, dry climate with plenty of sunshine and no fog. He had, after inquiries and investigations, decided that the Desert Moon ranch, altitude seven thousand feet, sunshine three hundred and sixty-five days in the year, to say nothing otf the marvelous view of the Garnet mountains, the hunting, the fishing, and the pure snow water, would fill all bis requirements. His proposition was that he start a creamery, on the Desert Moon ranch, and supply the valley with ice cream, butter, and other dairy products. Sam had the ranch, the cows, the big ice plant. Mr. Hubert Hand had the knowledge and the equipment. They could divide the profits. Next to sheep men, 1 guess there is nothing that cow men hold in lower contempt than they hold dairy farms. Sam was too much disgusted to swear very long. “Listen, stranger,” he said. “I wouldn't turn the Desert Moon into a place to slop milk around in if the entire valley had to depend on Hong- kong, China, for its ice cream cones. Forget it, and come in now and have some supper.” To my knowledge, Hubert Hand, from that day to this, has never again mentioned, on the Desert Moon, any- thing that had to do with creameries. Neither, from that day to this, has he been off the ranch for more than a couple of weeks at a time. “By the way,” he began, trying to make it sound unimportant, when we had finished supper, “lI heard, in Tel- ko, that you were something of a chess player.” “l am, when 1 can get a game,” Sam said. “But chess olayers, in these parts, are as scarce as hen’s teeth.” “l piay a little,” Hubert Hand pro- ducad, right modestly. Sam jumped up and got out his chess table. Hubert Hand beat him the first game in about half an hour. They set up their men again, It took Hubert Hand over an hour that time to beat Sam, but he did it. “Heck!” Sam said, at the end of that game. “You're hired.” “Hired for what?” “For whatever you want to call it, except the slopping of milk around. Send for your trunk and name your pay. Why didn't you say, in the first place, that you were a blankety blank crack chess player?” Hubert Hand accepted Sam’s offer, then and there. The next day he titled himself assistant ranch man- ager, and named his salary at two hundred and fifty dollars a month Sam paid it without blinking; and kept right on managing the ranch, and everything on it, except, perhaps, myself, without any assistance, the same as he had always done. Chadwick Caufield, the other mem- ber of our household, who was present on the Desert Moon ranch at the time of the first murder, came only two years ago last October. de was wearing white corduroy trousers, a long yellow rubber rain coat, and a straw hat tethered to its buttonhole with a string. He was carrying a ukulele under his arm and a camera in his hand. He took oft his hat, displaying a head full of pretty yellow curls. He smiled, dis playing a sweet, gentle disposition. (If there is any better index to char acter than the way a person smiles, J have never found it.) “How do you do?” he sald. “I have come to visit you.” By the time Sam got his pipe picked up, John had got down the forty-feet length of living room and had Chad by both hands, and was introducing him as the friend he had told us about, the friend he had made at Mather’s field, during the war, The way of that was, John had saved his life for him down there, and had never since been able to get out from under the responsibility of it. John had found a job for him, after the armistice, and when Chad lost it, John had loaned him money to start out in a vaudeville act. He did fine with that for three years, and was making good money, when he got into an automobile accident In Kansas City and was laid up for months in the hospital there. John had wired money to him, and had asked him to come for a visit to the Desert Moon. But, since he had had a standing invi- tation for years, and since he had sent no word that he was coming, John was as much surprised as any of us that evening. Chad was a little, pindling fellow. Around Sam and John and Hubert Hand he looked about as Jainty and trifling as the garnish around the plat- ter of the Thanksgiving turkey. He seemed kind of like that, too; like the extra bit of garnishing that makes life's platter prettier and nicer—abso- lutely useless, maybe, but never cldttery. ‘T0) RE CONTINITEDY v ©00000000000000000000000000 Man Hooks Fish as It Is Eating Bird Garden.—Earl Ansell did not kill two birds with one stone but he has a recent accomplishment that rivals it. While fishing he landed a nine-inch trout which had a bird in its mouth, the wing of which was still protruding. The fish's appetite was sufficient to cause it to grab the worm before it had disposed of the bird, a small one which had not yet fully feathered out. ©00000000000000000000000000 WIFE IS SILENCED BY COURT DECREE Forbidden to Speak to Husband Seeking Divorce. Des Moines, Iowa..—A wife's tongue was stilled by court order recently. The decree was meted out by Judge Lester L. Thompson, who decided that if Mrs. Josephine Hawkins had any more talking to do she must direct her remarks at somebody else besides her husband, Nelson Hawkins. The order was issued by Judge Thompson on application of Mr. Haw- kins who filed suit for divorce a short while before. Hawkins’ counsel com- plained that Mrs. Hawkins had threat- ener her husband with death and had made abusive remarks that “shook” his nervous system, The application asked that Mrs. Hawkins be restrained from speaking to the plaintiff or molesting him in other ways. Mrs. Hawkins was further ordered by the court to allow Haw- kins to “pack his trunk in peace” with- out interference from Mrs. Hawkins. Hawkins declared that he wanted to leave the premises he and his wife oc- cupied, and that she had prevented him from obtaining his belongings. In his divorce petition, Hawkins charges his wife with cruel and in- human treatment. Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins were married | at Baltimore, Md., July 21, 1924, the I divorce petition stated. Both have been residents of Des Moines for more than a year. | Storm Produces Miracle | When Lightning Strikes | Budapest.—During a recent thunder- storm, lightning played havoc in a wayside calvary in O-Buda, a suburb | of the city. The station representing ' Christ on the cross between the two thieves was struck. Although the fig- ure of the unrepentant thief was smashed to fragments, the figure of Christ was unharmed, and the lamp burning perpetually beneath it re- mained alight. | The incident, which is regarded as little short of a miracle, is attracting crowds to the spot to search in the bushes for fragments of the smashed figure. The finders are confident that they will be preserved from being struck by lightning—a commoner form of death in Hungary than in countries farther west. Rooster With Freak Bill Upsets Thieves Canton, Ohio.—Four men made the mistake of stealing a young rooster with a deformed bill. Sheriff Ed Gibson of Stark county was baffled by a series of chicken thefts until Ben Sterner, a farmer re- siding near Smoketown, reported that a rooster whose beak was twisted un- til the upper part formed a circle was among twelve stolen from his coop. Deputies saw the missing fowl on a meat stand here and learned James Merritt, thirty-one, had sold it to the dealer. With Merritt the deputies ar- rested Sherman Schilling, thirty-one, and Jess and Delbert Deardorff, brothers, age twenty-one and seven- teen. The four men confessed. Bedtime Tale—Bunny Bit Naughty Python Lincoln, Neb.—When he was turned by mistake into a pen with rattle- snakes and a 15-foot python at the state fair here, a little white rabbit cowed the rattlers in one corner and then bit the python. Since he al- ready had dined, the python overlooked the insult and the rabbit swaggered out of thie cage into the hands of an astonished keeper. Dog Goes to Jail With Master; Escapes Fine Kansas City.—Arrested on a charge of driving while intoxicated, Pearl Couch was protected by his bull dog, Prince, who defied police, refusing to he separated from his master. They occupied a cell together. Appearing for trial without the ald of Prince, Couch was fined $25, sen- tenced for 30 days on the municipal farm. Kills Giant Rattler Lynchburg, Va.—Mrs, Lucy Stin- nette recently killed a rattlesnake on Chestnut mountain, which had 23 rat- tes. She brought the rattles to Lynchburg as proof of the age of the snake, Uncle Saves Niece New York.—Her uncle, Lawrence Decker, twelve years old, saved the life of Lorraine McGinn, four, wh~n Ler skirts caught fire from the sparks of a bonfire. {YOU HAVE A DOCTOR'S WORD FOR THIS LAXATIVE W/Z y// pa Tn 1875, an earnest young man egan to practice medicine. As a family doctor, he saw the harm in harsh purgatives for constipation and began to search for something harmless to the sensitive bowels. Out of his experience was born a famous prescription, He wrote it thousands of times. It proved an ideal laxative for old and young. ‘As people saw how marvelously the most sluggish bowels are started and bad breath, headaches, fever= ishness, nausea, gas, poor appetite, and such disorders, are relieved by the prescription, it became neces sary to put it up ready for use. “Today, Dr. Caldwell’s Syrup Pep- sin, as it is called, is the world’s most popular laxative, It never varies from Dr. Caldwell’s original effective and harmless formula. All drugstores have it. Superficial Flesh Wounds Try Hanford’s Balsam of Myrrh All dealers are authorized to refund your money for the first bottle if not sulted. PARKER’S 7 HAIR BALSAM RemovesDandruff-StopsHairFalling] Restores Color and Beauty to Gray and Faded Hain 60c. and $1.00 at Druggists. 4 Hiscox Chem. Wks. Patchogue. N. Y.§ FLORESTON SHAMPOO--Ideal for use in connection with Parker’s Hair Balsam. Makes the hair soft and fluffy. 50 cents by mail or at gun. gists. Hiscox Chemical Works, Patchogue, N. ¥. a eatiness «_Jeonard IN NOSTRILS see EAR OIL $1.25 AN Druggists. Descriptive folder on request A. O. LEONARD, Inc. 70 Fifth Ave., New York City OF EARS = INSERT Used at night makes RIOR Beit TBE disappear by morning. At Druggists or 372 Pearl St., N, XY, City. Balanced “Been seeing a good deal in print lately about a balanced ration.” “Well ?” “What's your idea of a balanced ration?” “Peas on a knife.” Wright's Indian Vegetable Pills are not only a purgative. They exert a tonic action on the digestion. Test them yourself now. Only 25¢ a box. 372 Pearl St, N. Y. Adv. Not So Cheap Words are not little things; the progress of inankind has depended on them. Abolish words and the race would be done for.—American Maga- zine, Nine times out of ten the man who #ilks the loudest in an argument is in the wrong. Hoxie's Croup Remedy for croup, coughs, and colds, No opium. No nausea, 50cts. Drug= gists. Kells Co., Newburgh, N. Y., Mfrs.—Adv, There is no fool like an old fool— unless it is a young one. For Best Resuits in Home Dyeing You can always give richer, deep- er, more brilliant colors to faded or out-of-style dress- es, hose, coats, draperies, ete., with Diamond Dyes. And the colors stay in through wear and washing! Here’s the reason. Diamond Dyes contain the highest quality anilines money can buy. And it’s the anilines that count! They are the very life of dyes. Plenty of pure anilines make Diamond Dyes easy to use. They go on evenly without spotting or streaking. Try them next time and see why authorities recom- mend them; why millions of women will use no other dyes. You get Diamond Dyes for the &ame price as ordinary dyes; 15c, at any drug store. Health Giving A- Qumnshin All Winter Long Marvelous Climate = Good Hotels = Tourist Camps—Splendid Roads=Gorgeous Mountain Views. The wonderful desert resortof the West | Pain ‘Spring CALIFORNIA A ————— THE FEAT = WW (Copyright, W.N. U.) MICKIE, (GOWN, QUY DAN wv WI SOMETHIN the Le By PERCY 1 © by the McClure N asc
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers