Rensselaer Republican, Volume 25, Number 17, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 December 1892 — Page 2

/XjPWW HRISTMAS Bt last ■f KjfJ In was surely coming, m blMB’// /’ Il HE The air was full ot that VLwftaa /IJi K queer humming ®sr I JS Thal hlntß o£ unex ’ j./XyV J-SMXX pected things, Th » t Christmas generilly brings. Bobbie and Bessie, The ecapogoats for the village sins. Had long been trying to conspire To get rid of Aunt Keziah. Father and Mother let them run. And laughed at any mischief done: While she would fume and fret and scold. Tib wonder that she looked so oi<t — On Christmas Eve. at half-past nine, The stockings all were hung in line, A special nail for Aunt Keziah, Highest and farthest from the fire, ——-- At twelve o’clock, in white sheets wrapped. To scare somebody, if entrapped. Two roguish ghosts, on the barn stairs, Watched the cows kneel to say their prayers, Anu then, before they sought their beds, They once more bent their curly heads, * To write a letter, and. most shocking. Put it in Aunt Keziah’s stocking. When Santa Claus ceme ’round there, peeping, He found the naughty children sleeping. And tilled their stoelcings to the brim, For they were favorites with him. Then, in the morning what a noise. What show of caudles, books and toys; But none enjoyed their presents better Than Aunt Keziah did the letter. saw w///x ‘‘WHERE'ER THOU GOEBT, X WILL GO?” It said; “Dear one, if you will be My wllfe, and all the world to me. «*' I’ll give you now my hand and heart, 1’ I’m yours truly. Jotham Spart.” They all thought selfishness a sin. So a few friends had been asked in To eat plum pudding till they burst. And of these, Jotham Spart came first Across the room Keziah sprung. Around his neck her long arms flung And kissed him, while she murmured low: ••Where’er thou goest. I will go. After a moment's hesitation, In which he grasped the situation. He ,ald: "There’s no use in delay; "If you are willing, now’s the day.” Among the guests was Parson Wise. And he pronounced the man a prize Who'd meet a maiden, woo ana win ’er, And marry her in time for dinner. The matrimonial knotwas tied; They ate plum pudding side by side, Lookln as proud, and silly, too. As brides and bridegrooms always do. Bobby and Bessy, happy elves. With joy were quite beside themselves, To see this match of their creation Succeed beyond all expectation. Between themselves they thought It better To keep the secret of that letter; And never knew if peace or wrangling Followed their little plot’s untangling.

ONE CHRISTMAS EVE.

Frotfißergravta. ——— This woman walketh In the smile of God. The soft light in which the room was as tenderly green as’the still water in some deep sea cave. It flooded all around, lending a faint mystic tone to everything over which the silence of night was brooding. It softened the shadows until they lost all hardness of outline and added a silver shine to the whiteness of the lily that stood out. tall find distinct, against the dull crim-on curtain. I rom the shadow of the bed dark eyes watched the fairness of the flower—watched it with eyes that now and again grew misty with tears. Almost as still and white as yonder flower was the watcher, but* the flower was unconscious of the heartache of the woman. Ohly that morning had rested in her arms fpr the first time a little baby, and now the arms were empty; small wonder that the Tilly wavered through a mist cf tears. “It is well with tire child,” she murmured gently, and her eyes then turned to the scarlet holly berries wreathed about the mirror, faint reflection, in this saddened chamber, of the glad season around. “Scarlet as drops of blood”—the thought ran through her mind, their vivid coloring intensified by the lily's fairness. Silence, calm and unbroken in the pale, unbroken light, until the tear dimmed eyes watching sadly the tall white flower became aware that it was growing whiter, whiter; a gleam Of moonlight whs stealing in, giving it added brilliance, added luster; now it stirred all its white petals, as if touched by some gentle breeze; now its faint fragrance was borne across the room, and the tearful eyes noted that what appeared to be moonlight were the white draperies of the angel form that held the flower. “Angela,” he said softly. “Yes.” She was not surprised or frightened; she had expected the summons. “It is Christmas Eve,” he said. “I bear a message to every mother whose baby is laid in her arms today. Will you come with me?" She rose—her weakness gone, her tears all dried—and clasp the hand he held toward her. The night without was still, the crescent moon shone down through a frosty sky, the myriad of stars twinkled brightly, and yet through all the clear atmosphere there was -still a faint greenish tinge like the calm water in an ocean cave—or was it the mystic light df the moon? But there was little time to wonder as the strong hand el upinc hers drew her along till it seemed as if

her weakness vanished under the influence of his strength. The starry night was forsaken now; they were standing—the strong angel and the weak woman—by the side of a bed on which lay a mother, A youngmother,with a smile glad and proud about her lips; in her arms nestled a tiny form close against her breast. But as the white clothed form paused by her side, and she became aware of his presence, she moved a little restlessly, and drew the child tightly. - • HeUoosened for a moment his firm clasp on Angela’s hand, and, stooping, touched the child lightly. “Do not, do not,’’ cried the mother. “I will not," and her voice gathered strength with pagElun.~“fwiti~T not give him up!” ‘‘The choice lies with you,” replied the angel, and his voice was graverii nd s ad. “O n Chr i s tin as Eve the choice lies with the mother.” -Of a sudden, through the darkened room, there was a flash of light and in it shone out clearly a picture. Angela, breathless, clasped the angel’s hand again, whilst she strove to realize it. A lighted room, the firelight flickering on the walls, comfort, luxury, on all the rich interior. In the doorway a tall, stern, gray-haired man; his eyes turned now on the little forlorn group of children gathered hbout the fire, now towards where a woman, gray haired also, sorrowed apart. , “I renounce him," the man said, and there was more passion and grief in his voice, unraised as it was, than if he had cried aloud. “Disgrace—shame! He has brought down our gray hairs, his mother’s and mine, with sorrow to the grave. He is my eldest son, and I can only say that I wish he had never been born." The children sobbed, the mother’s tears fell fast; the father, in his strong frozen grief, faded from sight and the young mother—sleeping now—still clasping her bady, alone remained. “He would be better in my care,” the angel sighed. “Life,” murmured the mother — she did not open her eyes—“life at any cost. I nave not fear of any evil for my child. Care, a mother’s tender care, will be his from his cradle. What, is there no fear?”

Again the hush of the quiet night, the starry skies, and then a pause by another bedside. A very different one this time. A patched quilt drawn over this mother and her tiny new born babe, but little the baby heeded either the roughness of its surroundings or the noise outside, as it slept in its mother’s arms. The woman slept, too, a woman young and pretty, and with the tender pathos of recent motherhood about her. But even in her dreams her arms tightened about the child as the white clad figure paused beside her. “No dead,” she sighed. “Wait, wait!” The angel spoke, and there was a shade of pleading in bis voice, and on the bare walls of the little room there appeared a sudden picture. A dreary night, the wind blowing the show in ~j>Ulless gusts across a long dark bridge. No stars above, no reflections of light in the gloomy water below, into which the snowflakes fell and vanished. No passengers—who would be abroad on such a night! Stay, just one. A woman, too, with a thin shawl wrapped about her protection there from the cold whirling storm. A womon, young and pretty, as the dim light from a gas lamp for a moment threw into relief a white delicate face against the cold inclement sky. One moment's stillness, then a voice. Ah, what a cry of pain! “I wish that I had died when I was born, that I bad never known all the sin and pain there is in this unhappy world! No mother to help or guide me. Lost, miserable, there is no place forme in all the world!” There was a cry audible above the wind and rain, or was it the echo of that first heart broken one? Then silence, save for the howling storm, and the dim light showed no form outlined against the blackness. The snowflakes fell faster than ever into the dark, hurrying river, which was black and cold as the night beneath which it flowed. “What a terrible dream!” The mother shivered a little, and drew her baby closer—closer to herself, further from the white rcbod angel. “Love —a mother’s love," the fi-lhed, “would guard from sin and trouble alike.” “Human love,” the angel whispered “can avail so little.” But the woman replied not, and the watchers passed away into the night beyond. And now once more they were in a room, a different one again from the last. A splendid rood in a splendid house, the walls hunt with pictures; the dimly burning -right light showed faintly forth the many treasures with which the race was full. Every thing told of the wealth and luxury which reigned throughout a great house. In the silence of the shaded light a woman's anxious pained eyes were turned to the white winged angel. bring a message of death,” she said softly; and her eyes, so full of <P-in, so full of courage, I did not \fultcr. “Take him. Bee I give biota to you- my little, longed- | for sop. 1 Crippled, unhappy bibv. take hUn into your safe keep ng.” ’ While J»is band yet touched the child, “Look first," he said J and within the shadow of the great bed there appeared a picture. A room, mHgnlucent even as this one-might it not uuve been the same?—and on

the bed a white. dimly outlined form, and a face beautiful in death, with the beauty of Courage and nobility. And all the room was full of figures whose cries and mourning filled the still air. “We lovedhim. ’ they cried, “and alas, he is dead!” One stood by his side and watched the silent figure, and clasped her hands and sobbed; “He was a cripple, too, but until I saw his life I never knew how suffering should be borne!” ■‘Motherless and alone, he went on his weary way, bearing his path—to us all alike he has shown the way. Oh God! what loss if we bad never known him, never learnt to follow his brave example! Courage, virtue, patience, teridcnicss.-foyerwhen has he ever failed? It is only py following in his footsteps, striving to do as he has taught, that we can show how his—memory lives yet in our hearts. We could not forget, even i f we would, but yet that is not a., that his life requires of us. Havi~ ~ shown us the way, it rests with us to follow after.” The picture slowly faded, the mother’s restlc«3 eyes opened and sought the wfjte winged augel. “I renounce the eternal peace," she sighed. “Give him strength for her allotted task.” In the 3emi-darkness of the silent room her slender fingers unclasped the strong hand that had already hushed the child to rest. “Leave him to his work and ea'.-n his rest.” Some words the angel said, perhaps of sorely needed encouragement, but they died away in the stillness, only the last remaining audible in the silent night. “Behold, his reward is with him and his work before him,” and the mother’s anxious eyes grew calmer. One swift flight now and they paused again. A room this time which seemed dimly familiar, or was it only the soft light which brought vague dreams of ocean caves and still waters deep down out of human sight? A stream of moonlight shone through a half closed window onto a bed whereon lay a slender, dark eyed woman. I. Such a world of sorrow in the dark eyes, such tender grief when the angel paused ere speaking the familiar words that as his voice with its murmured “Choose,” echoed through the silent night, In swift terror Angela clasped his arms, all the past surging in upon her. “Oh, do not ask her," she cried. “In her ignorance she may not choose aright.” But before her words were spoken this other sad-eyed mother had spoken also; not with the swift passion of the on-looker, but with soft, human heart break: “I can not choose because I can not see —I trust.” And then a sigh which seemed to frame itself into “It if well with the child.” Who spoke those words? The room was still dark, save for the green, shaded light—the stream of moonlight was gone. Against the dark curtains fairness of the lily, its whiteness intensified by the scarlet berries of the holly, red as drops of blood.

A Short Stop.

Smith & Gray'd Monthly.

Uncle Si —Bless Moses! Dar comes dat ole mule runnin away with little Abraham !

Abraham—Oh I Fodder ! fodder! Stop us, foddet l

Mule —Who said fodder?

Last Entry in the Professor's Diary.

“To-day. I am pleased 'to stale. I have settled to my entire satisfaction the desputc betweec Professor Brown and myselt. It:.-, as 1 have always said: The boar will attack man without provocation—Life. “I feel quite jusVfed in ckiimina to be a man of Jeep research” aaid tbo submarine

THE OWLS' CHRISTMAS.

BY LURA LEE.

There was an old owl, and he lived la a tree, i A Christmas tree, if you please; Add seven small owlets his children were, Nimble and merry as bees; But very gruff were they The day that came just before Christmas Day, » For not a gift, if you please. “Huh!” and “Ha!” and Humph!” they icu ' “A nice state of things, if you please: Not a present nor a bit of fun. While father snoozes at ease. Papa, wake up I What of Christmas Day? Can’t we go out and Lave a play Under the Christmas trees?” Father he blinked, but he chuckled outright. Then got out his pocket-knife keen, And whittled seven pairs of tiny skates, The tiniest ever seen. With holly leaves he tied them secure, _ And rolled up seven tippets of snow soft and pure, And put them on, if you please. He gave each for a cane an icicle long, And took them all adown to the lake: Where the ice was smooth, and glassy, and i strongNo dan ger'that it would break— And said, "You can skate, and run, and dance, ________ And tumble, play tag. and stumble, and prance, All day and all night, if you please.” So that was their Christmas. Snug in bed, And awfully tired that night. The owlets slept, and never woke-up Till Morning, but woke in affright. What do you think? The tree was cut down Without waking an owl and carted to town, And set up in a house, if you please. There it was lighted and trimmed and bodecked, And the nest at the top of the tree; Presents below and a merry crowd Laughing and romping with glee. And there Mr. Owl and his family were kept. And petted and fed till the children slept. Then out to the home grove they all were swept. And that was their Christmas Day.

A TIMELY TALE.

Told on Christmas Eve by the Old Clock Most Feelingly.

then it looked right at the jumpingjack and asked: “Why haven’t you gone to sleep, too?’’ “I’m waiting for Santa Claus,” answered the jumping-jack. “Waiting for Santa Claus,” laughed the old clock; why, you don’t suppose that Santa Clans is going to bring you anything, do you?” “I need it bad enough,” said the jumping-jack; “I fell into the wash--basin three weeks ago and by the time I was pulled out and dried I lost all the beautiful red stripes and yellow buttons off my coat, and this left eye of mine faded from a lovely purple into a dirty lavender. 1 have been the sickest jumping-jack in town ever since.” “Oh, phsaw!” said the old clock; “handsome is that handsome does; tick-took! tick-tock!” “Biit I shall be all right in the morning,” said the jumping-jack, - “for my little mistress Bertha put me here by the fire to-day and whispered up the chimney: ‘Please, Santa Claus, bring -a-n&w eye and a new suit of -elothesfor jumping-jack, and please, Banta Claus, bring me a nice big box of candy.’ ” “So you like Bertha, do you?” asked the old clock. “No, not very much,” said the jump-ing-jack; she dropped me. in the washbasin, you know, and then, too, she makes me jump when I don’t want r.o. Last week she pulled me so hard that the string broke.” “Sque-ea-e <-eak!” said another small voico and the littlfe blue mouse peeped out from under the wardrobe. “Sque-ea-ea-eak and I don’t like Bertha either I” she said. “Tick-tock, tick-tock,” said the old clock, ‘and why don’t you like Bertha, ] Mistress Blue Mouse ?” ““She frightens me,” answered the little blue mouse, “and she pets that horrid old cat. No, I could never like a child that keeps such bad company. Depend upon it, no child that keeps company with a cat ever came to any good end—sauo-ea-ea-eak!” Now, while the old clock and the jumping-jack and the little blue mouse talked together, Bertha lay fast asleep in her crib, and the old clock and the jumping-jack and the little bluo mouse were still talking and Bertha was stiff-fast asleep when there came the sound of sleigh bells and then the noise of some one slipping down the chimney. But instead of Santa Claus there came out of the chimney and stood on the hearth a very fat and very sleepylooking boy. He wore fur clothes and a fur cap, and the first thing he did was to yawn. “You’re not Santa Gaus, are you?’’ asked the jumping-jack. “Of course he isrt’t!” said the old clock. “I know Santa Claus, for I’ve seen him twenty times!” “No, I’m Santa Claus’ boy,” said the boy, and he yawned again, for ho wus very sleepy. “What on earth are you doing hero at this time of night?” said the jump-ing-j >ck. “Why, father was so busy,” said the boy, “that he sent me down here with this box of candy and this box of paints. One of them is for—let me see—ho said to give the candy to the jumpingjack, and —no that wasn’t it! lam to paint Bertha—no, I’m sure I don’t remember what he did tell me to do. but here is the candy and here uro • the points!” You see he had forgotten all about what he came for. Wasn’t that just like a boy? Just then a wicked thought camo to the jumping-jack. Ho winked his one eye at the little blue mouse, as much os to say. “You help me out in this story and I’ll make it all right with you.” Then the jumping-jack said to the boy, “I know all about this, and I will tell you what to do. The box of

candy is for me,-and you are to paint Bertha. You’ll find her in the crib over there. Put some red stripes and yellow buttons on her, and don’t forget to give her a new purple left eye." “That’s right," squeaked the little blue mouse. The old clock was so suprised that it could only “tick-tock, tick-toek,” over and over again, and these “tick-tocks’’ were so sad that tears of sorrow filled the eyes of the needles in the workbasket bn the table. The s boy was foolish enough to believe the wicked jumping-jack. So he handed over the box of candy, and then—oh, horrible! —ho went to the crib and painted red Stripes andyollow buttons all over poor little Bertha, and having done that he painted one of her beautiful blue eyes (the left one) an awful purple! Then he tied a string toller And climbed chimney again;

As for got ttfo worst of it, of courie, for there she was all painted up like a jumping-jack, with a big purple left t eye. She couldn’t speak or do anytliing else unless somebody pulled the and she had tostay that way a whola year, until Santa Claus came around himself and fixed things. When Snnta Claus did come he took the evil jumping-jack away with him and changed him into a nut-cracker. So now the evil jumpingjack has-to- wodc harder than ever before, and nobody is a bit sorry, I’m certain. But the old clock sings “tick-tock. tick-tock” just the same as before, and once when I sat listening to this strange music, which will go on long after you and I are done with Christmas times, the old' clock paused in its solemn singing to tell me the story I have just told you, and the old clock knows many other pretty stories which I may sometime repeat

Christmas Eve the old clock stood in the corner and sang “tick-tock, tick- ! took’ ’until everything else in the, room had gone to sleep everything except the jumping jack. ‘ ‘Tick-tock, ’’said the old clock, and

The introduction of a material combining all tho advantages of glass, with none of the correspondingdisadvantages arising from its brittleness, will be hailed with interest by every class of the public who suffer daily in one form or another from the fragile nature of the article it is now sought to supersede. The transparent wire wove rooting, which is translucent, pliable as leather and unbreakable, has for its basis a web of fine iron wire, with warp and waft threads about one-twelfth of an inch apart. This netting is covered on both sides with a thick translucent varnish, containing a large percentage of linseed oil. The process of manu-faetHFing-rs conducted-by dtpptffg the sheets into deep tanks containing the composition until the required thiokness is obtained; tho sheets are then dried in a heated chamber, and after being stored for some time till thoroughly set are ready for use. The sheets can be made any color desired, and range from amber to pale brown. Tho pooling is very pliable, and. bending backward and forward without any injury, readily adapts itself to curves or angles in roofing. The new material is not only water proof, but is unaffected by steam, the heat of the sun, frost, hail, ruin, or. indeed, atmosbperic changes of any kind. Being a non conductor, buildings, winter gardens and similar structures remain cool in summer and warm in winter.

Muffs of monkey skin aro always much admired. This fur is really taken from the back of chimpanzees like the late Mr. Crowley, of New York. Five years ago they were almost unknown, and dealers on tho west coast of Africa bought them of the natives for sl..s'J a dozen, shipping them to London with instructions to make them up into driving glove* and offer them to the' trade, lint their peculiarly long block hairs for the monkey can scarcely be said to have a fur, at once won favor, and tho price went up so rapidly that agents at Sierra Leone fairly coined rnoney before the natives discovered the aJvance in values. But the animal from which this strange materia! is secured is comparatively rare in Africa, and exists nowhere else on the gicbe. A few years more and itionkov skins will be almost'as rare as blacks ables. —■- •- •—* - . . i ......

“Tommy, I hear you got a thrashing in school to-day.’’ Tommy: ,’Yos, ma, the teacher whipped mo, bat he is getting so old and weak that it didn't hurt much.” “Did you cry:” “Oh. yes, I bawled so you could have heard it on the next, block.” “Why did you do that?” “1 wanted to make lue old man feel happy once more.”

There is an amusing story told of a Delaware man, who received u “horning” because he married within a moi.th after his first wife’# deatn. He told the serciiadcrs that he didn’t think it showed good taste to come banging around a man's house so boon after » funeral.

“Lemon parties” arc becoming popular In a number of Hudson River towns> It is stated that every young man is expected tp 'bring a lemon, a girl, and a squeezer.

New Substitute For Glass.

Monkey Skin Muffs.

A Happy Thought.

No Respect for the Deal.

Lemon, Girl, and Squeezer.

An Open Fire.

Harper's Bazar _ A fire on the hearth, either of soft coal, of pine knots, of drift wood, or of hickory logs ; a fire which leaps, and glows, and dances, and sparkles, or dreams and smolders, and ebbs out like the tide; a fire whichgreets yon with the friendly aspect of welcome almost as eagerly and hospitably as a friend’s hand and a friend’s eye—such a fire should be somewhere in the house in these winter , davs. It need not be a large one. A handful of fife is enough to dispel the look of gloom and impart the look of cheer, without which the most delightfully appointed room is conscious of a lack. Nor need it be kept up all day long. It is in the early morning and at evening that an open fire is almost indispensable, giving people a center around which to gather,and making a place where children can nestle closer to older people, warming their little chilly hands, and leaning their bright heads against the mother’s knee. Here the arm chair may be set for grandmother ; no household is quite complete without her gracious presence. Here the lad pauses on his way to his room to tell of the foot ball game or the horseback ride, and the girl lingers, hat and jacket in her hand, as she runs over happenings other afternoon walk. The fire on the hearth is a rallying place for everybody in the house. It is also a conservator of health, before which disease germs perish. No ventilator surpassing a bit of fire has yet been discovered. It will save its cost in coals and wood in the freedom of the family from colds and fever.

No Mistake.

“Emily,” roared Mr. Winterbottom from the head of the stairway, “these socks you’ve laid out for me are not mates.” “Neither are your feet, dear,” answered Mrs. Winterbottom, sweetly, from the hall below. He declares it to be “the best remedy for cough and croup.” Mr. D. T. Good, Columbia, Tenn., writes: “I keep Dr. Bull’s Cough Syrup in the house all the time. It is the best remedy for cough and croup I ever used.” An obtuse angle—fishing for compHments.

good! That is the case with Dr. Pierce’s Pleasant Pellets. They’re the smallest in Size, the mildest in action, but the most thorough and far-reaching in results. They follow nature’s methods, and they give help that lasts. Constipation, Indigestion, Bilious Attacks, Sick and Bilious Headaches, and all derangements of the liver, stomach and bowels ere promptly relieved ana permanently cured. “ If wo can't cure yo-ir Catarrh, no matter how bad your case or of how long standing, we’ll pay you SSOO in cash.” That is what is promised by tho proprietors of Dr. Sage’s Catarrh Remedy. Doesn't it prove, better than any words could, that this is n remedy that cures Catarrh 1 Costs only 50 cents. Sue (at the seaside, in reference to an exceedingly meager bathing costume/ Isn’t that ridiculous! Harry—A regular take-off: FITS.-Al IFI taitopned free by nr. Kline’s <1 t Nerve Hesloi er. No Fits after flrat day’s use. Marvelous cures. Treatise and *2.00 trial bottle tree to lit cases. Send to Dr. Kline, lai Arch st.. I'hila. Pa. There was quite a booin of American brides in London, but as one of them married tho son of a canon the boom was naturally in order.

There are a large number of hygelnlc physicians who claim that disease is always the result of a transgression of Nature’s laws. The proprietors of Garfield Tea are both physicians, and have devoted years, to teaching tho people how to avoid sickness by following Nature's laws. They give away with every package of Garfield Tea a little book which they claim will enable all persons, if directions are followed, to avoid Sickness of all kinds, and to have no need for Garfield Tea or any other medicine. “I wish you would not take advantage of tho relationship seemingly implied in your name to be so familial*.” said the hen to the hatchet. Bf.rcham’s Pills cure bilious and nervous illness. Beecham's Pills sell well because they cure. 25 cents a box. The record breaker Isn’t dishonest although he tries to beat his way through life. Restore the complexion by cleansing the entire system, Small Hilo Beans. Fashion plates came into use during the last quarter of the eighteenth Century.

IMPORTANT TO FLESHY PEOPLE.

We have noticed a page article in the Boston Globe on reducing weight at a very email expense. It will pay our readers to send two cent stamp for a copy to Betina Circulating Library, ”0 E, Washington St., Chicago, 111.

Holiday Excursion via Pennsylvanla Lines

On December S4th, 2C'.h, and Slat, 1862, nnl January Ist and 2d. 1893. excursion tickets nt .cw round trip rates will be sold from stations ■ . on the Pennsylvania Lines West of Pittsburgn to points on those Hues in Western Pennsylvania. Ohio. Indiana, Illinois. Kentucky snl West Virginia. Iteturn coupons will be valid until January 3d, For details please apply to nearest Pennsylvania Line ticket agent.

Holiday Excursions via Vandalia Lines.

On Dec. UL 25, 20 and 31. 1892. and Jan. I ami 1/23, excursion tickets at low rouni) trip rates will be sold from all Stations on the Vnndalii Line. Return coupon will be (valid until J.in. 3rd. For details apply U> any tioket agent of the Vandalia Line. ,

“HITS.” OLD, CHRONIC PAINS SUCCUMB TO ST. JACOBS OIL IT HITS > THE SPOT AND CURES.

LOOK AT THE SIZE of the ordinary pill. Think of au the trouble and disturbance that it causes you. Wouldn’t you welcome something easier to take, and easier in its ways, if I at the same tune it did you more