Jasper County Democrat, Volume 13, Number 82, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 January 1911 — Page 2

Couglis, Colds, Croup I —■J£=- ARE DANGEROUS i _ a H neglect them means serious sick- I 2fjPl IA ™™| ness, consumption, perhaps death. ■ Watch for and be prepared to treat I the first symptoms of these dangerous % fey affections of the throat and lungs. AffirJVx*Wl ''w'sl A cough is caused by inflammation of -wffiih .i L TL- the air tubes or an accumulation of phlegm on the mucous membrane of the NX' throat and lungs. You Cough in an \\ effort to throw off this phlegm. Many Cough Syrups contain opium , Hj| wMffl/ morphine , cr codeine, which paralyze, Rv/, Weaken the nerves of the bronchial tubes ■ ffmr so they cannot control the muscles. I Therefore you cannot cough and throw H off this phlegm so your condition constantly becomes more serious. Such cough medi- 8 Icines are dangerous; they do more harm than good. They may stop your cough, out don’t H be deceived with the effects of these deadening anodynes. They may give you the drug | habit but will not cure your cough. ’ B To cure a cough and cold you need a powerful expectorant, something to loosen the ■ phlegm without deadening the nerves. I RAWLEIGH’S GOLDEN COUQH SYRUP. will relieve the spasmodic condition of the air passages by removing the cause of the 8 irritation. Its peculiar soothing, yet stimulating action promptly brings the mucus membrane ■ back to a normal condition. . . s ■ m , 3 The phlegm is thus loosened and promptly expelled from the bronchial tubes. This fi medicine is free from opium, morphine, codeine or other dangerous drugs having a de- ■ pressing ana injurious effect on the system, and is therefore perfectly safe for children or « adults. It cures coughs and colds naturally—cures them to stay cured. ■ I POSITIVELY GUARANTEE THIS WONDERFUL COUGH MEDICINE to be th ' safest and best ■ known remedy for coughs, colds, croup and whooping cough, bronchitis, hoarseness, ■ tickling in the throat and all similar*affections of the throat and lungs. These affections ■ are both very common and dangerous. Are you prepared to treat them? If not, better get S L a a good supply on my free trial plan. I guarantee it to be perfectly safe, and you Pay m after you are satisfied." THAT’S RAWLEIGH’S PLAN. 1 lam the Rawieigh Man aad you can defend on me to ao as I agree, write me, ■ or wait for me. 1 & 0. N.Hile, Local Agt., Rensselaer, Ind. .J

mm \ yp / < >■ / The car that lasts longest—and costs least while it lasts 4 cyl., 22 % h. p., 5 passenger touring car, 100 in. wheel base, S7BO, includes magneto, top, wind-shield, gas lamps, generator, speedometer, 3 oil lamps, horn, and kit of tools. Ford repairs always on hand. Ford Auto Agency Jno. M. Knapp, Local Agt., Phone 186, Rensselaer, Ind.

Guaranteed for Life. The biggest little car in the world A -1-passenger Touring car at $ 900.00 A 2-passenger Runabout at....... t. ................ . 750.00 A 2-passenger Torpedo at 850.00 A 3-passenger Coupe at 1100.00 The only car made in this country with a life guarantee Call at Garage and look them over L. B. Elmore, Remington, Indiana

Prize Offe rs from Leading Manufacturers f-/ Book on patents. “Hints to inventors.” “Inventions needed.” “Why some inventors fail.” Send rough sketch or model for search of Patent Office records. Our Mr. Greeley was formerly. Acting Commissioner of Patents, and as such had full charge of the U. S. Pale-*- Office. ggJREELfoi I&MgIN mJ jpik _ Wash--ngtoh, "O- C. jL-Sl

SALE BILL SEASON. *

The Democrat wants to print your sale bills this season, if you are going to have a sale. We are fully prepared to get you out an attractive bill. A good line of display type, stock cuts, etc., enables us to do the work in an artistic manner. A free notice of the sale complete in The Demo-

crat goes with each set of bills, and you know “everybody reads The Democrat.” ) Orders by mail or phone will receive prompt and careful attention.

The Democrat office is well equipped to do the better grades of job printing. i 1 ■ ■ . - .’V '

A Bird of Bagdad

Strange Adventure of a Modern Haroun-al-Raschid

By O. HENRY

Without doubt much of the spirit and genius of the Caliph Haronn-al-Raschid descended to the Margrave August Michael von Paulsen Quigg. Quigg’s restaurant is in Fourth avenue—that street that the city seems to have forgotten in its growth. Fourth avenue—bom and bred in the Bow-ery-staggers nortl)ward full of good resolutions. Where it crosses Fourteenth street it struts for a brief moment proudly in the glare of the museums and cheap theaters. It may yet become a fit mate for its highborn sister boulevard to the, west or its roaring, polyglot, broad waisted cousin to the east It passes Union square, and here the hoofs of the dray horses seem to thunder In unison, recalling the tread of marching hosts—hooray! And nextpoor Fourth avenue—the street glides into a medieval solitude. On each side are the shops devoted to “antiques.” What street could live inclosed by these mortuary relics and trod by these spectral citizens, in whose sunken hearts scarce one good whoop or tra-la-la remained? Not Fourth avenue; not after the tinsel but enlivening glories of the little Rialto; not after the echoing drumbeats of Union square. There need be no tears, ladies and gentlemen; ’tis but the suicide of a street. With a shriek and a crash Fourth avenue dives headlong into the tunnel at Thir ty-fourth and is never seen again. Near the sad scene of the thoroughfare’s dissolution stood the modest res taurant of Quigg. It stands there yet if you care to view its crumbling red brick front, its show window heaped with oranges, tomatoes, layer cakes, pies, canned asparagus. Quigg’s title came through his moth er. One of her ancestors was a margravine of Saxony. His father was a Tammany brave. On account of the dilution of his heredity he found that he could neither become a reigning potentate nor get a job in the city hall. So he opened a restaurant. He was a man full of thought aud reading. The business gave him a living, though he gave it little attention. One side of his house bequeathed to him a poetic and romantic nature; The other gave him the restless spirit that made him seek adventure. By day he was Quigg, the restaurateur. By night he was the margrave, »the caliph, the prince of Bohemia, going about the city in search of the odd. the mysterious, the inexplicable, the recondite. One night at 9, at which hour the restaurant closed, Quigg set forth upon his quest. There was a mingling of

“I’LL SPIEL IT IN ABOUT NINE WORDS.”

the foreign, the military and the art is tic in his appearance as he battened his coat high up under his short trimmed brown and gray beard and turned westward toward the more central life conduits of the city. In his pocket lie had stored an assortment of cards written upon, without which he never stirred out of doors. Each of those cards was good at his own restaurant for its face value. Spine called simply for a bowl of soup or sandwiches and coffee; others entitled their bearer to one, two, three or more days of full meals; a few were for single regular meals; a very few were in effect meal tickets good for a week. Of riches and power Margrave Quigg had none, but he had a caliph's heart. It may be forgiven him if his head fell shot! of the measure of Haroun-al-Rasehid’s. Continuing his progress in search of romance to divert him or of distress that he might aid, Quigg became aware of a fast gathering crowd that wh oped «nr! fought and eddied at a eor'C-r < f Bread way and the crosstown street that he was traversing.-:• Hurry-, ing to the spot, he beheld a young man of an px< <-c iingly melancholy oeeupied demeanor engaged in the pastime of casting silver money from •his pockets to the middle of the street. With each motion of the generous one's hand the cfowd huddled upon the falling largesse with yells of joy. Traffic was suspended. A policeman in the center of the mob stooped often to the

ground as be urged the blockadera'to move on. The margrave saw at a glance that here was food for his hunger after knowledge concerning abnormal workings Of the human heart. He made his way swiftly to the yonng man’s side and took his arm. “Come with me at once,” he said in the low but commanding voice that his waiters had learned to fear. “Pinched,” remarked the young man, looking up at him with expressionless eyes—“pinched by a painless dentist. Take me away and give me gas. Some lay eggs and some lay none. When is a hen?” Still deeply seized by some inward grief, but tractable, he allowed Quigg to lead him away and down the street to a little rark. There, seated on a bench, he upon whom a corner of the great caliph’s mantle has descended spake with kindness and discretion, seeking to know what evil had come upon the other, disturbing his soul and driving him to such ill considered and ruinous waste of his substance and stores. “1 was doing the Monte Cristo act as adapted by Pompton, X. J., wasn't I?” asked the young man. “You were throwing small coins into the street for the people to scramble after.” said the margrave. “That's it. You buy all the, beer you can hold, and then you throw chicken feed to—; Oh, curse that word chicken. an«l hens, feathers, roosters, eggs and everything connected with it!” “Young sir.” said the margrave kindly, but With dignity, “though 1 do not ask your confidence, I invite it. 1 know the world, aud I know Inuuauity. Man is my study, though I do uot eye him as the scientist eyes a beetle or as the philanthropist gazes at the objects of his bounty—through a veil of theory and ignorance. It is my pleasure and distraction to interest myself in the peculiar aud complicated misfortunes that life in a great city visits upon my fellow men. You may lie familiar with the history of that glorious and immortal ruler, the Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid. whose wise and. beneficent, excursions among his people in the city of Bagdad secured him the privilege of relieving so much of their distress. In my humble way 1 walk in his footsteps. 1 seek for romance and adventure in city streets, not in ruined castles or in crumbling palaces. To me the greatest marvels of magic are those that take place in men’s hearts when acted upon by the furious and diverse forces of a crowded population. In your strange behavior this evening I fancy a story -darks. I read in your act something deeper than the wanton wastefulness of a spendthrift. I observe in your countenance the certain traces of consuming grief or despair. I repeat—l invite your confidence, I am not without some power to alleviate and ad-vi-ic. Will you not trust me?”* “Gee, how you talk!” exclaimed the young man. a gleam of admiration supplanting for a moment the dull sadness of his eyes. “You’ve got the Astor library skinned to a synopsis of preceding chapters. 1 mind that old Turk you speak of. I read ‘The Arabian Nights” when I was a kid. He was a kind of Bill Devery and Charlie Sehcvab rolled into one. But. say, you might have enchanted dish rags and make copper bottles smoke up coon giants all night without ever touching me. My case won’t yield to that kind of treatment.”

“If I could hear your story,” said the margrave, with his lofty, serious smile. THE STORY OF THE YOUNG MAX AND THE HARNESSMAKER'S RIDDLE. “I’ll spiel it in about nine words,” said the young mar with a deep sigh, “but I don't can help me any. Unless you're a peach at guessing it's back to the Bosporus for you on your magic linoleum. “I work in Hildebrant’s saddle and harness shop down in Grand street. I’ve worked there five years, I get $lB a week. That’s enough to marry on, ain’t it? Well, I'm not going to get married. Old Hildebrant is one of these funny Dutchmen—you know the kind—always getting off bum jokes. He's got about a million riddles and things that he faked from Rogers brothers’ great-graudfather. Bill Watson works there too. Me and Bill have to stand for them chestnuts day after day. Why do we do it? Well, jobs ain’t to be picked off every Anheuser bush— And then there’s Laura. “What? The old man's daughter. Comes in the shop every day. About nineteen and the picture of the blond that sits on the palisades of the Rhine and charms the clam diggers into the surf. Hair the color of straw matting and eyes as black and shiny as the best harness blacking. Think of that! “Me? Well, it’s either me or Bill Watson. She treats us both equal. Bill is all to the psychopathic about her. And me? Well, you saw me plating the roadbed of the Great Maroon Way with silver tonight. That was on account of Laura. I was spiflicated, your highness, and I wot not of what. I weuldst. “How? Why, old Hildebrant says to me and Bill this afternoon: 'Boys, one riddle have I for you gehabt haben. A young man who cannot riddles antworten, he is not so good by business for ein family to prbvide— is not that—hein?’ And he hands us a riddle—a conundrum, some calls it—and he chuckles interiorly and gives both of us til! tomorrow morning to work out the an swer to it. And he says whichever of ns guesses the- repartee end of it goes to his house o’ Wednesday night ro his daughter’s birthday party. "■ And it means Laura for whichever of us goes, for she’s "naturally aching for a husband, and it’s either me or Bill Watson, for old' pildebrant likes us both

and wants her to marry somebody that'll carry on the business after he’s stitched his last pair of traces. ' “The riddle? Why, it was this: ‘What kind of a hen lays the longest?’ Think of that! What kind of a hen lays the longest? Ain’t it like a Dutchman to risk a man’s happiness on a fool proposition like that? Now, what’s the use*? What I .don’t know about hens would fill several incubators. You say you’re giving imitations of the old Arab guy that gave away libraries in Bagdad. Weil, now, can you whistle up a fairy that’ll solve this hen query or not?” When the youug man ceased the margrave arose and paced to aud fro by the park bench for several minutes. Finally he sat again and said in grave and impressive tones: “I must confess, sir, that during the eight years that I have spent in search Of adventure and in relieving distress I have never encountered a more interesting or a more perplexing case. I fear that I have overlooked hens in

“GOOT! DOT IS RIGHT!”

my researches and observations. As to their habits, their times and manner of laying, their many varieties and crossbreedings, their span of life, their”“Oh, don’t make an Ibsen drama of it!” interrupted the young man flip-, pantly. “Riddles—especially old Hildebrant’s riddles—don’t have to be worked out seriously. They are light themes such as Sim Ford and Harry Thurston Peck like to handle. But, somehow, I can’t strike just the answer. Bill Watson may, and be may not. Tomorrow will tell. Well, your majesty. I'm glad anyhow that you butted in and whiled the time away. I guess Mr. Al-Raschid himself would have bounced back if one of bis constituents had conducted him up against this riddle. I’ll say good night. Peace fo’ yours and what-you-may-call-its of Allah.” The margrave, with a gloomy air, held out his hand. “I cannot express my regret,” he said sadly. “Never before have I found myself unable to assist in some way. ‘What kind of a hen lays the longest?’ It is a baffling problem. There is a hen. I believe, called the Plymouth Rock that”— “Cut it out.” said the young man. “The caliph trade is a mighty serious one. I don't suppose you'd even see anything funny in a preacher’s defense of John D. Rockefeller. Well, good night, your nibs.” From habit the margrave began to fumble in his pockets. He drew forth a card and handed it to the young man. ' t “Do me the favor to accept this, anyhow,” he said. “The time may come when it might be of use to you.” “Thanks"’ said the young man, pocketing it carelessly. “My name is Simmons.”

Shame to him who would hint that the reader's interest shall altogether pursue the Margrave August Michael von Paulsen Quigg. I am indeed astray if my hand fail in keeping the way where my peruser’s heart would follow. Then let us on the morrow peep quickly in at the door of Hildebrant, harnessmaker. ' Hildebrant's 200 pounds reposed on a bench, silver buckling a raw leather martingale. Bill Watson came in first. “Yell,” said Hildebrant, shaking all over with the vile conceit of the joke piaker, •' “has you guessed him —‘Yat kind of a hen lays der longest?’ ” “Er—why, I think so,” said Bill, rubbing a servile chin. “I think so, Mr. Hildebrant—the one that lives the longest— Is that right?” “Xein!” said Hildebrant, shaking his head violently. “You has not guessed der answer.” Bill passed on and donned a bedtiek apron and bachelorhood. In came the young man of the “Arabian Nights” fiasco —pale, melancholy, hopeless. “Yell,” said Hildebrant, “has you guessed him— ‘Yat kind of a hen lays der longest?* ” , Simmons regarded him with dull savagery in his eye. Should he curse this mountain of pernicious humorcurse him and die? Why should— But there was Laura. Dogged, speechless, he thrust his hands into his coat pockets and stood. His hand encountered the strange touch of the margrave’s card. He drew It out and looked at it as men about to be hanged look at a crawling fly. There was Written on It In Quigg’s bold, round hand, “Good for one roast chicken to bearer.” Simmons looked up with a flashing eye. “A dead one!” said he. “Goot!” roared Hildebrant, rocking the table with’giant glee. “Dot Is right! You gome at mine house at 8 o’clock to der party.”

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| Millions to Loan! j jig A A We are prepared to take care 2 or all the Farm Loan business In ;J 4 this and adjoining counties at \A A Lowest Rates and Best Terms, 2 2 regardless of the “financial strln- Jj J gency.” If you have a loan cos -’ S A Ing due or desire a new loan It wIM 2 2 not be necessary to pay the ex- 3 5 cesslve rates demanded by our A A competitors. ! FIVE PER CENT. | Ml oominission - Pram senrice t 1 Irwin & Irwin I S Odd Fellows Bldg. Rensselaer. - S Sale bills printed while yon wait at The Democrat office. .