Greenfield Evening Republican, Greenfield, Hancock County, 31 October 1895 — Page 4

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BARBARY.

By Mrs. E. V, WILSOM.

{Copyright, 1866, by the Author.] "Yes, I was at his first wife's fnneral, an if anybody hed told me that in a little znore'n a year I'd 'a' ben his second I'd &aia tney was crazy. Ton see, my third cousin, Marthy Jane Holly, she t- us .aim, nvcil in his neighborhood, an I was visitin o' ••.-• her when his first died, an Marthy Jane tok me Along to the funeral. It was a dreadful dull day in February, an that muddy the team could hardly pull us.

An when we druv tip to the house I thought it was jist about the lonesomest place I hed ever seen. The houae was a great, big, two story frame with nine winders an a big front door, an the yard hedn't a tree or bheh in it. 'Law sokes, Mair thy Jane!' says 'What a barn o' a house!' "'Well,' says 6he, 'it's bran new. They jist moved in it this fall.' "There was a sight o' folks in the house, an I got in somehow 'mong the women, an tried to look round some, but I got sort o' interested in the talk. One o' the women said, 'What a pity t'was Miss Hillyer hed to die jist as 6he got settled in the new house.' An another one said she'd noticed many a time when folks built fine houses one or t'othor of 'em died. Then aright old woman spoke up, an says she: 'That's nonsense. Matildy Hillyer killed herself, 80 she did. Her an them two slips o' girls do: a.11 the work fer the men that built this yer house an fer the hands that worked the farm, an the las' time I see hfcr she told me she made a hundred yards o' rag carpet, wove it na all.' "'What made her?' interrupted another woman. "'Nobody made her,' said the old woman. 'She's that bigoted. I tolo her 'twouldn't pay, but she said squire was got on hevin the biggest house on the prairie, an they got the work done cheaper by boardin o' the men, an she's boun to hev carpets'— 'I don't care,' broke in my third cousin, Marthy Jane Holly. 'It's her own fault. If she'd managed the squire light, lio'd never built, sich a house. She tole me she v,noted littler one, handy an full o' clusi'ts, but the squire wanted the big one. Now I say if she'd managed'— 'Oh, pshaw!' said the old woman. 'Miss Holly, you dunno what you's talkIn 'bout. The woman that'll manage Sam Hillyer ain't born.' "At this minit a man came to the door o' the kitchen where, we was sittin an said, 'All as want to look at the corpse, please walk in.' I went in with the rest, an tuk a look at the pore critter, an went on through the room where she lay, across a great hall, into another big room, an I thought a hundred yards o' carpet wouldn't begin to cover all them floors. My, but they looked oold an drearyi an I said to Marthy Jane Holly, when wu got back to their cozy little house, that it 'peared to mo I'd freeze to death there. "Well, my visit was out, I went h(.i :e, an I dtvlaro 1 never thought once of him, but. along ab.mt Christmas what does Marthy Jane Holly's man do but come down to our house with him in a sleigh. You might 'a' upsot me with a feather when they walked in. "You see, I was nigh on to 85, an not bein e^lra gual lookin I'd 'bouteoneluded nobody

ever want me fer a

wife, but the lo:i^ an short of it was, ho had heard about me, an he said he •was lonesome an his children needed lookin after, an I tell you he's a good talker, an Marthy Jane Holly came to see me an said all ho needed was the l-'ght kind o' a woman to manage him that he was a good pervider, an had about as good a farm as there was in the county, an mj- brother Jim, as I •was livin with, an Cynthy, his wife— she was Cyutliy Smith, ole Turn Smith's daughter, you know—they said it was a splendid chance fer me. Theyknowed I could get along with him, an so I giv' in, but I sort o' mistrusted that air sot mouth o' his all the time. But, as I said, I 'greed to hev him at last, an we was married at brother Jim's early in March, an Jim an Cynthy giv' me a I'i^ht nice weddin dinner. I will say that fer 'em, an, what's more, I allays will believe they thought it was a good thing fer a old maid like me to git to "bo Mrs. Squire Hillyer. "I felt a little jubious about his children wan tin a stepmother. You see, the

oldest gill, Emly, was about 18, an I thought maybe she liked bein boss, but laws, she 'peared glad when I come, an had a real nice supper ready, an Barliary, tho next girl, was a-smilin, too, an I l.eerd her tell tho hoys—there was three o' them, from 14 down to 10 years ~:j old—that she liked my looks. lift "Well, I kin toll you, it wasn't long al'oro I found out that managin him was no .easy matter, an Emly was his pieter. When lie wanted a tiling done, ®T-V it had to be done his \v y, an she was liko him, an so they didn't agree very well, an he hevin the power she hed to

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giv" up, an so she was most allays in a bad humor. The boys, too, especially Steve, the oldest o' tho three, was evcrlasti quarrel in. So I began to think stforo many weeks that I'd better staid •, eingle, even if it wasn't pleasant livin with sister-in-laws, an if it hedn't been fer Barbary I dunno what I'd 'a' done, tut Barbary—dear, dear, I choke up yet when I think o' her. Sho was so pretty, with her big blue eyes an white skin an red mouth. "I can't somehow help likiii good lookin folks, an I do thiilk it's teal misfortune ter a girl to bo ugly. Mebbe

I'm wrong, but I know I allays felt it iwas to me, an the minit I see Barbary I liked her, an tho more I see her the more I liked her. She was that sweet an her ways, allays givin up to Emly, an a-calliii o' me'ma' from the start, vrhich is more than Emly ever has to. this day. An I soon see she was his fa-1 Vorita Not as he said so, but I could fee his eyes follerin her as she went) ^ingiu round the house, an then she

never said nothin back to him, no odds what he said, an Emly, pore thing, never could hold that sharp tongue p' hern Not that she wasn't right Often, an him wrong, but what's the use o' bangin your head agin a stone wall, 1 say? "I couldn't help lanph'n to myself a rrr:j. t'er all it hurt mighty bad, wbeii I- thc^~ht o' Marthy Jane Holly an Cynthy talkin o' managin him. I did rrv to h^ter thinr«! at first. There war so iiiuou nard work. You see, there was nine in the family, countin the two hands, an allays ei^ht or nine cows to milk, an chickens an the garden, an we women hed all them to 'tend to, an I says one day: 'If you'd let the girls hev part o* the butter money for theirselves, don't you think they'd like it? Girls wants a little money sometimes.' He jist gimme one look out o' them steely eyes o' His. an says he: 'The buttet an eggs has allays bought the groceries. You better not be puttin fool uotions in them children's heads,' an his moutji Shet down like a rattrap, .ah yoh better know I hushed up, but I kep' a-thinkin. Wimmen will, you know, an I thought: 'He calls 'em children. Well, I ken tell him they're past that, an if I ain't fooled Emly'11 show him pretty soon,' fer I'd see her an one o' the hands together a good deal He was a nice enough young man, so I didn't meddle. What'd ben

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"He was a nice enough young man." the use: Well, after awhile I found out that Barbary wanted a organ awful bad, an the school miss that taught the deestrio school, where the three boys went to school all winter, hed got the spring term, an wautcd to board at our house, an said if Barbary hed a organ she'd 1'arn her to play fer her board. So 1 thought I'd tackle him agin, an I was as cunnin as I knowed how to be. I said how good Barbary was, an how she could sing like a bird, an how we'd all enjoy music, an it wouldn't cost much. But, laws, I might as well talked to the wind. He sot that mouth o' liisn an says, says he: 'My girls can play on the washboard. That's the insterment their mother hed, an I won't hev ho finniky school misses boardin here, puttin things in their heads. There's a leetle moreo' that now than I fancy.' "That's a hit at me, you see but, laws, I didn't care. I guess I was too old to be in love when I married, an somehow he didn't make me feel very sentimental, as they call it. I sot out to do my duty, though, an I tried to do it. I told Barbary it was no use talkin 'bout a organ, an she cried an said: 'If pap was a pore man, I wouldn't want it. But he's rich, an he might let us be a little like other folk, an ma,' she'went on, 'if my mother hedn't hed sich a hard time I believe she'd ben a-livin yet., but I guess pap didn't mean it. I ought to be ashamed.' An she wiped her eyes an went up stairs. Well, things went on the same way, but I was gettin to think lots o' the children. Tho boys was rough sometimes, but I allays liked boys an never told tales, an when Steve wanted mo to praise his' colt—fer his pap hed giv' him a fine one—or Bob wanted me to giv' his calf more'n its share o' milk, or little Tom wanted anything I could get fer him, allays humored 'cm, an I knew they liked me if I wasn't their own mother. "We hed an awful lot. o' work the summer a year after I went there. He put in a big crop, fer he s$id he was hound to pay fer a 20 acre, pasture he hed jest bought, an so we hed to be up airly an late. You see, he got two more cows an hired another hand, an I declare it was like a big hotel, only I believe it was harder. An I thought he'd work hisself to death, too, fer there wasn't a lazy bone in his body, an the beys—1 was sorry fer the little fellers. It seems to me folks thinks children never gets tired. Why, I'veknowed Bob bo that wore out that he'd crawl up st ors at night on his hands an knees, bnt I couldn't do nothin only be good to 'em. "Well, one day he fell out with the hand that I'd seen Emly liked, an turned him off—right in harvest time too. An that didn't help matters, fer Emly sulked, an the man was a good worker, an his place couldn't be filled. An so the squire was cross as a bear. An him an Emly had several fusses, an at last she told him sho was goin to marry Sam White—that was tho feller's name. My! I'll never ferget that time. But it's no use talkin it over. Emly faced her pap to tho last, an me an Barbary cried. An it ended in Emly packin up her things an goin to one of the neighbors. An I must say I don't believe what came afterward would have happened if Emly hadn't aggervated him the way ohe did. "Of course it wasn't any easier on me aii Barbary after Emly was gone,though I do sav tho hired men was awful clever, hoJpin us whenever they could, an I says to Barbary one day, 'Don't you fall in love with any one o' them boys, fer I can't spare you.' An she laughed, an lior face turned red. An you could 'a' upsot me with a feather when she says, cried like: 'I won't, ma. I'm engaged to Phil Thomas.' 'Barbary Hillyer,' says I, 'you ain't no such thing 1' 'Yes, I am, ma,' she says, 'but we're goin to wait till he's o' age. He's only turned 20 now.' 'Dear me,' thinks I, 'wh^ will the squire say?' You see, I never'd thought o' Barbary carin fer anybody.

"The poor fellow staggered."

man? I was that scared I couldn't move or speak. An as fer Barbary she was white as a sheet as her pap shet the door on Steve an turned round. He looked at lis a minit. His eyes was glarin an his face red a.s tire. 'Yon git to work, miss, an as for you,' ho said to mo, 'you let that boy alone. None o' your pet-tin him. Do you hear?' I didn't say a word, an he wont in the room, bangin the door to after him. "Wo looked at each other. Then Barbary, with her white faco set sorto' like her father's, walked to the kitchen door, opened it an went out in the darkness, fer it was a cloudy evening. An supper was late, owin to the men bein at work in the lower meadow. I dished up the meal an called all hands, but neither Barbary or Steve came in, an we ate without 'em. Iwas mighty feared their pap would ask fer 'em, but he didn't An as soon as the men went out o' tho kitchen I went to look fer 'em. I soon found Barbary. She was settin on the back porch cryin. But she wouldn't say one thing about Steve. She dried her eyes an helped do up the work, an then went up stairs—said her head ached an she was goin to bed. I hed to go in the room, as it was bedtime, an I didn't know what to do. I slipped out an hunted fer Steve. Then I went up stairs, thinkin mebbe he'd gone round the house to the front door. But he hedn't, an the boys said they hedn't saw him. So I hed to say before I lay down, '1 guess Steve ain't in the house.' "'Let him stay out then,' said the squire, angry as ever. He hedn't spoke to me all the eveninsince the fuss. 'I'll let him know I'm boss here.' "I didn't sleep much that night, an I thought, 'Well, Sally Humphrey was a happier woman than Mrs. Squire Hillyer, I reckon, but Mrs. does sound better. Not a word was said in the mornin till breakfast was called. Then little Tom asked fer Steve. 'I reckon he's asleep in the barn,' said pap. 'Go tell him to come in. He's acted the fool long enough.' The boy went, but soon came back, saying he 'couldn't find Steve.' I see squire's face change color. But ho sat down to the table /without a word, an we was about half through breakfast when there was a knock at the back door. Barbary opened the door, an a strange man walked in. 'Squire,' he said, 'good mornin. That liurse I bought of yer yesterday is missin, an I thought mebbe I'd find him here. Ke either got out o' the stable or was taken out.' "For a minit nobody spoke. Then Tommy said: 'Pap, Selim ain't here. Mebbe Steve's gone after him.' 'Who's Steve?' said the stranger. 'He is my son,' answered pap quickly. 'You shall hev our help, sir, in gettin your horse. Set down an eat a bite while I look about a bit.' The stranger sat down, an Barbary poured his coffee While I followed the squiro out. As soon as the door closed behind us he grabbed ttiy arm. 'Where's that boy?' he whispered savagely. 'I dbij't know,' I said, fer I didn't. He looked at me. His face turned most the color o' ashes. 'O

All the ytmng fellers in the neighbor- God!' he oried. Then he hurried toward hood took every chance to be with her, the stable. an was conoin to the house on errands, "I was kind o' stunned fer awhile. I or to see Steve, an hangin round Sun- saw he thought Steve hed gone an got days. But laws! I never thought o' her ,the horse an was gone. But I knew betcarin more fer one than t'other. An I tef. I felt somehow Steve was not that wonde^dd no.v ik would turn out. Phil war a yry u'ee boy, bn: Lb folks wasn't very well oiJ:, an I felt worried. An so time went oi». Harvest was over, an Emly married, an he* we heard, muJ reused :arm in »nc neighborhood, hen one day Barbary an me Jhein busy in the kitchen the squire cdmem, seemin in a mighty good humor, ^n he says: •1' tell you, mother'—he called me thai nearly allays—'t'Ve h^d ji streak o' ItifcL ^ot a big ptice fet Selim an he's fcofi&' Now, Scftijicl ^as the iiaine Steve ne'd given his colt, an I says: 'Selim! yon Purely heven't sold Steve's colt?' Be laughed. 'Steve's colt,' he said,'but,my horse. The be&t's over 4 years old.' 'Oh, pap,' said Barbary, 'you Oughtn't done it, Steve loved iiiai sd' 'I'll giv' Hihi tie fciack colt,' said pap, 'ah S hew suit o' clothes, that'll fcaake it all right:' But it didn't. When Steve found his horse hed been sold, he flew into a dreadful rage. An I couldn't hlame him, though I tried to pacify him, telliii.him his pap hed aright to do as he pleased. 'He hed no right to Bell my horse,' cried the boy. 'He gave him to me right at first, an I raised him,' an he'd nicker to me an let mo do anything with him, an I loved him, ftn fer pap to sell him without even tellin me he's no better than a horse thief.' 'Oh, Stevey,' says I, 'don't talk so! It's wicked.' But the boy was wild. 'It's not wicked to tell the truth,'he

said. 'What'd he giv' him to me fer if the road, an I heerd the clatterin o' a he was goin to sell him? I say he is a thief to sell what didn't belong to him!' Oh, dear, dear! His pap heard Steve, fer jitet then he came in an grabbed the boy by the collar an flung him across the room. The poor fellow staggered an saved himself from fallin, an the squire caught him again, kicked him savagely, an openin the door threw him into the Jard. You needn't think Steve didn't show fight. But what could a slender lad o' 15 do against a strong

kind o' a boy. The stranger came out, an pretty soon he an the squire rode off. I went in to Barbary. Sho was tryin to eat, with tears mnnin down her face. 'Barbary,' said I. 'where kin Steve be? Your p^p's nearly crazy fer fear he has stole Selim an gone off.' Barbary's face flamed up. 'Steve's no thief,' she said, 'wherever he is.' An I couldn't i^t ahoihier word out o' her. It was an aVrftil long, hot day, an we had a big irbnin td do. Barbary worked iiard all mornin, but after dinner she got real sick, an I made her go out o' doors an set in the shade. After awhile I heerd her call me, an goin out I see Phil Thomas a-talkin to her. 'Ma,' she called out to soon as she see me, 'Phil says Steve's at their house an has been all night. I thought he'd 00 there or to Emly's.' 'Is he comin home?' tasked Phil. He shook his head, fEmly is at our house now,' he said, 'an 1 think he'll go home with her. He is pretty badly hurt from a fall, he says, tui id somewhat lame, but he'll get along. I went in to my ironin, feelin thankful, an left the youngsters to themselves. Bless 'em, they made a pretty pair. "Phil staid till about 4 o'clock, an after he was gone Barbary come in to help about supper, I wish pap'd come,' she kep' sayin. 'I want him to know Steve is no thief.' Presently she ran out on the back porch an stood lookin down

bed. Then a long shudder shook her body, an her breath came in gasps. A torrent of blood poured out o' her ?noutii, an she was gone. .. "Yes, we hed to bear it. .People can bear things when they hev to. But he's never been the same man. An his face keeps that queer color. I've heerd that when that ashy look comes to anybody they've got their deathblow: They may live a few years, but it's death it means. 'How did lie get throwed?' Well, you, see, jist as he rode in at the barnyard gate the horse sheered an throwed him, an his feet caught. Barbary see it all, an see the stable door open. Sho knowed the horse'd make fer his stall an her pap's brains'd be knocked out, an she got there in time to shet the door, an when the horse r'ared up he struck her afore she could git out o' the way. Yes, Steve staid at home. I dunno what we'd do without him, an Emly an her man comes over right often. She has a little girl now. She calls it Barbary, an it's mighty cute. But it'll 12" vor be like my Barbary to me or pap either. An, after all, Selim had got out himself an was on his way home when they cr.r-ght him. But pore Stevey, ho said lie over wanted to see liim again. "Phil 'homas? Ho was pretty downhearted vv a good while, but he's chirked upr.ow, an I heerd he was waitin on Melinda Jones. She's a nice girl, but she could hold a candle to Barbary. 'Deadfolks r.V.n fergot,' you say. I don't believe it. i' olks don't ferget, but they can't go mou.niin allays. An it wouldn't be right if they could. I know long as I live I'll never ferget my girlie, who giv' up her sweet young life to save her pap. No, I'm not sorry I married him either. He's awful good, if he is a little close with money. But that's his nature. I reckon it's 'cause he knows how hard it is to get. But, bless my heart, it's nigh 4 o'clock, an that girl will never get supper on wivliout. I see to it. So you must excuse me awhile. There's tho album with Barbary's pieter in it. 'Tain't half as pretty as she was, but you can guess a little what she's like by it. "If you see him comin, jist slip it out o' sight. He can't bear to see it. There's some o' my folks' likenesses in it too. No, I never did hev mine taken. Don't reokon I ever will but, laws I I ansst see about supper."

THE END.

horse, an I run out jist in time to see Barbary go like a flash out o' the back gate toward the stable. It was all over in a minute. I see the horse rare up as she flung the open door to. I see her pap hangin with one foot in the stirrup, his head draggin, though one hand still held the bridle, an I got to him somehow jist as he got his foot loose, an I helped him up, an there lay Barbary white an still. Her pap let go the horse an stooped down. 'Barbary!' he said. She never moved. 'She's dead,' I said. 'What done it? O Barbary, my precious, what hurt you?' 'Be still!' he said sharply. 'She's not dead. Help get her in the house.' We lifted her up, an she opened her eyes. 'Phil,' she whispered faintly, 'tell pap Steve'— then her voice ceased, an her sweet eyes shut again. We got her on 1he bed, an I got tlie.camphire, an pap rung the big bell fer the hands, an soon as they come in sent one fer the doctor. But I found where she was hurt. There was a great ugly bruise right between her pretly white shoulders. A little stream o' blood begun to trickle out o' her mouth. Send over to Thomas',' I said, 'fer Phil an Steve an Emly.' He thought I'd lost my senses, I know. 'They're there,'I said. 'Phil was here.' In spite o' his trouble his lace lighted up. Then Steve is not'—he began, but at the name Biirbary's eyes opened again. 'Never mind pap. He don't—he don't mean it, Stevey,' she muttered. 'I know it's hard, but I guess he likes us children.' 'Go,' I said, 'send fer 'em.' Ho went out with that queer gray color creepin over his face that I see in the mornin. An pretty soon I heerd tho horse gallopin off. Then he came back. Will, wo done all we could. The doctor came, an Phil an Steve an .Emly an her man. But she never spoke but once after tl.cy came. She mumiuved then brokenlv. All we could make out was, 'i'.ip— Steve never—ma's real —Phil— mother!' she cried aloud at la.'-t, an her eyes opened wide, an .she looked wuuderingly at us, fixin her gaze for a litfclo I on her pap, who stood at the foot o' the I Cotton States and International

1895 i-rQGTQBER 1895 8H. t«i. ft ft

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HOW TO BEACH ATLANTA.

From Chicago, Peoria, Iudianapolie, Torre Haute, LaFayette, Benton Harhor and intermediate points, the North a Northwest, the "Big Four" route ofiV-is the choice of the two great gaitways to the Soutb—Ciuomn.iti and Louisville. Solid trains with parlor car?, magnificent sleeping rars and dining cars run daily from Chicago and imh.ui»polis to Cincinnati and Louisville.

From New York, Bo&ton Buffalo, Cleveland. Co'iumbus. Springfield, Saudusky, Dayton aud lotetmediate poini'3, r:ia^u !L cent tliiough U'

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Publishing Co.,

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ATLANTA.

Exposition.

Travelers to the South daring the faH fttio the earl part of tbs wintsr iesvn will have aii unusual opportunity of see ing the South at ita b»»t advantage. Th® Atlanta Exposition In th© larjest exposi tlon of its kind in this country, with the exception of th© world's fair at Chicago.

ran daily into Cincin

nati. All trains of the "Big Four" arrive at Ceutral Union Station, Cincinnati, mj»kiug direct'- confections with through trains of the Queer, & Cresc- ... vouu .o A an a pi vi a he Q. & U. route run directly to Ohaitanoogu, thence via Southern railway to Atlanta. Many points of historical interest as well as beautiful scenery may be enjoyed earou'e. Of these Chiekamanga National Park and.Lockout IVioontuin ai. Chattanooga are foremost, and should be visited hv everyone on the wayta Atiauta.

For full information as to lutes, route:', time ef trains, etc., call on or address any agent Big Four Route.

D. B. MARTIN,

Gen'l Pass. & Ticket Agt.

E. O. M'CORMICK, Pass. Traffic Mgr 4118

A Yellowstone Tavlf Trip

"Will do more to over come that feeling o£ lassitude or laziness which ever you prefer to call it than all the medicine in the apothecary's shop. Get out of the harness for a while take a lay oft and Jgo to the park and become renewed in body and mind. See the geysers play, hear the paint pots pop, the cataracts roar, climb about the canyon walls, catch trout in the Yellowstone lake, take on anew life. Send Clias. S. Fee, General Passenger Agent, Northern Pacific railroad, six cents for the n*w and Illustrated Teuriit

book. 84lGJfcd.

WM*.

Bountiful L*rr©«t4 ar* repwrte*" all ee«tibn« of th« weat and north-w*K, jpad an ex^ptiongllf favorable oppaitf*. for and

Palsce Day Coachis and Pullman Sleeping C»r» air attached to all traius shown in this schedule.

Extremely low rates have bet made to Atlanta and return, via tie Nashville, Chattanooga and St'l.uis Railway. All trains run solid between Nasbvill* and Atlanta. The train in last column,., which leav»ip Cincinnati at 4:30 T. runs solid to Atlanta. This is th* route of the famous "Dixie Flyar" through "all thp year round" steeping car lin* between Nashville, Tenn., and Jaekaoavill*, Fla.

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points In Northern Wisconsin and Michigan North-western Iowa, Western Mlnmeaota, South Dakota, Nebraska, Colorado, Wyoming, Utah and a large number oi other points. For full-information apply TO agent* of connecting lines, or addreea A. II. Wag. oner, -T. P. A. 7 Jackson Place, Indianapolis, Ind.

The Kockf finu'italog.

Along the line of the Northern Pacific Railroad abound in large game. Moose, deer, hear, elk, montain lioiss, etc., can yet be found there. The true sportsman Is willing to go there for them. A little boob called "Natural Game l-ieseryes,'" published by the Northern .' itlc Railroad, will h© *ent upon receipt of four cents in stamps by Charles S. Fee. Gen') Pass. Agent, St. Paul, Minn. 15tl

COTTON STATKS EXPOSITION.

Atlanta, Ga. Sept.IS,Dec 31,1885 The schedule printed below is a «omprehensive guide to the shortest aad quickest route to Atlanta from the North and Northwest, Chicago, Indianapolis, Terre Haute ttuu Evansville,

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For further information address Brinrd F. t-lill. Northern Pas-^nger Agent, 328 Marquette Building, Chicago, 111. R. C. Cowardin. Wf-stern Pa avenger Agent, 405 Ry. Exchange Building, St. Louis, Mo., or I) J. Mubp.ney, Eastern Passenger i\«r-nt, -19 W. Fourth St., C'oclnnatl, O.

W. DAN LET.

& T. A. Xatvill», Tenn.

O*. 21-d&.v tf 1

1. f1! 2 t!"

jf/ •.

Lrwoe

MAR

•i

1 1 W 5

c£lv

$300.00 (sOflRflNTEE. iftBSOLUTfcLY HARMLESS. Will not injure hanas or fabric.

N-j Washb ^'.Mi nt:eotd, can use hard waters same as soft. £uli Di.oi uons on every package. Al* 8-oz. package for

5 cts.

o.- 6 for cts,

Sold by retail grocer* everywhere. "When tho H^i-r W. ,id~Foints to Nine, hcAve Your V^sshinc on the Line."

ELECTRIC POWER

I A MAGAZINE I% OF POPULAR 1 ELECTRICAL

SCIENCE.

•iiMCRimoN. $2.00 Pen Yean.

20 CCNT* PCM NOMMCR

TRIAL SUBSCRIPTION, 6 Mos. $1.00

ELECTRIC POWER,

89 Cortlandt St. New York.

BJ3 S

~i- Lv

DATE

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