Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 21, Number 22, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 22 November 1890 — Page 2

C*«t»VJ

A THANKSGIVING HYMN.

For bud nni for bloom and fdr balm laden brcrtse, For the Hinging of bird* from the hill* to tho sens, For th«- tn-nuty of dawn nntl the blight new of

JEtOftft,

For the !li£ht In the nlRht of the srnr* and the moon. Wo prnlws thee. gracious God. For thn Kim rlpennd fruit and the billowy trraln, For tho oransto ftnil apple, the corn and the cane, For Uu» tnuuntlful tiarve»U now gathered and ntnrwi, Tlwit bv In the lap of the nation* *. civ poitred, \V« prnlno thtw, gracious Cod. For thv ii.Hintf» of friends, for the old anr! the

BMW.

For tht bt»arw that are trusted and trusting and tnif. F«v tin- low# that wo love, for the Htfht of tl.oeye Tnat wijrnm with a welcome and tfloom* with (rtxxl-by \V« pralxe thmi. itracloiw G.xl. That tin" dtwoSale poor may llud shelter and bread. That tho Hlifk may lie comforted. nourished aud fed, That th« sorrow may cense of the sighing and sad, That the spirit Ijowed down may be lifted and jfhtd,

WV pray thee, pitying l«ord-

That brother the hand of hi* brother may clasp From ocean to ocean In friendliest iff asp, Thai for Itnte horror of war be forever ~l rent,

Wu pray thee, pitying l*ord.

For the blotting* of cartli and of air and of sky That fall on us all from tho Father on high, For the crown of all UUsislnpt Mince blessing begun. For the Rift, "the unspeakable gift." of thy Son,

We praise thee, gracious Ood. ~B E. Adams.

10W SILK FOUND JACK.

THANKSGIVING STOHY OF TIIK EAST AND THK WEST.

"Yes, I be goin'

wt!St

tov .Jack," sho

repented softly to herself, naif she feared being overheard. Her iviiolvt- wnt glow to tho faded checks of the aged woman, mid her hands trembled so much that she found difficulty i:» completing tho household tusks, which tho family had left for her to do. "If Peter s'peets of a sudditit as 1 be aimitf ter run away from him an* go out west ter .lack he'd come postin' right home from them (loin's at Ltgonier an* «top me. Then I reckon I'd be shut up in the insane house, like his wife onct threated so Here© like. Well. I bo goin' ter try mighty strong ter git away," and with sprightly movement# that seemed to beliu iter years the woman began to dress as if for a long journey.

Satisfying herself that she had everything ready which she wished to take with her, she dropped on her aged knees by her bedside, and sent up her last prayer in the home that ly»d been hers for so many, many years, and asked CJotl to Ik* with her mi her journey, and forgive them who had so cruelly treated her.

Strengthened by her prayer, and tiiking up an ancient looking carpet bag, she left the comfortable house on tins mountain side, and walked rapidly Away through the trees.

Beaching a little hillock the aged woman stopped and looked behind her. She suddenly realir.*! how hard it is for one of her years u» bivak away forever from scene# juul associations that had become apart of her life.

Her eyes grew moist as she gated at the meadows and woods tinted with gold and bnwn in the late autumn. Her gate dwelt, too, on the pretty, plump cows, which many a time ber hand* had fed and milked.

Then her eyws wandered back to the comfortable Pennsylvania farm hww©, with its fruitful orchards and well filled barns, ««1 over the fiekbstn'tchmg away far down ia the lovely valley, and oa to the picttm**itte moantaiiw with their «vergrwn vt^eUtiou. •*Good by. ole homer «lie said, with a touching qaaver in the voice which all fcor lovclts» ye««ns had not fobbed of ifc» motheriv sweetnaw: "I be mnnin' away frvtu vc- Pear* like ther Lord ha# gin iter

tm clmr

it be tber only way

rm ter snatch bit o' rail Uappinew in tht« life. Oh, field# an* homeaii* oiotw(aim! I U? kxjkin* my UrtoiJW- Ptu off t«r find Jack."

Across the field* thrt little old

$?m mm

"*W

sjul faced and heart Imngiy, trudged on carefully through the wild blackberry vines, then into a narrow path and out at a small gap in the fence to the broad, beaten path that wound in and out among the beautiful wild laurel at the foot of the mountains. Then picking her way across a limpid trout stream she reached a crossing where the train often stopped to pick up country passengers. "I reckon Peter an' his wife'd sure swear as I be crazy if they'd lcitch me," she said, glancing apprehensively about her. as if she expected to see a pursuer.

But not a person was in sight. Everybody except perhaps the indifferent mountaineers had doubtless followed the uxauiple of Peter Tompkins and his family, arul gone to Ligonier to the "doings."

She had not waited more than a half hour when a heavy, rumbling sound fell on her ears. The train waa coming! How her poor old heart leaped as the shrill whistle resounded among those laurel enameled hills!

Her steps did Hot falter, however, as she approached Uie Jr^^vtyrmg conductor saw her, stopped the train and helped her aboard. He could not avoid noticing how neat she was, and though she must have been over 70 years old how sprightly she was. "Where toT he asked kindly, having seated her comfortably in the train. "Ter Pittsburg," she replied, taking out an old fashioned reticule. Opening it she disclosed her knitting and a clean, yellow cotton handkerchief, in the folds of which she kept her money, the little sums which Jack had sent her from time to time from the far west, and others which were the fruits of In r»\v industry.

At Pittsburg she bought a through ticket to Denver, Colo. "It's a long, tiresome trip for one of your years/' remarked the conductor, who had assisted her. "Yes, I reckon it be," she returned, "but thar be worse things ter endure in this life than long trips on kyars—then 1 bo mighty sprylike tttr a tol'ble ole woman." "Yon have friends out there?" "Yes I be goin* ter Jack." "And you're going all alone?* ho ask?d sympnthizingly. "Thcr Lord, he be with me," Bhe replied with one of her dear, old motherly smiles.

He did not leave her until he had seen her seated on the right train then he went home to his young wife and baby, and, with tears In his manly eyes, told of the old lady who was traveling all the long distance from the Pennsylvania mountains to some wild place in the far away west.

At Chicago a roughly clad, but kindly natnred, elderly westerner, Silas Carrick by name, hoarded the train for Denver. He becatT'd interested at once in the little old fashioned woman, who reminded him in so many ways of his own mother, long since laid to rest in a hillside burying grottnd of New England.

After traveling a short time Silas Capriole, seeing her look sad, said to her: "I gness, mother, ye be fur from year ole home, and ther change makes yer feel sorter lonesome like.** "Well, ther change has kinder upsot me," she admitted. "So diffrant frum ther mountings whar 1 waa raised in Pennsylvany. I never reckoned on Jack* beta* *o fur off." "Jackr Silas Garrick asked. "Yes. Jack—Jack Tompkins—he% my youngest, an* I be goin' out ter him," she amcered. "What does he toller fur a Hvin' fa Goleraderr Silas questioned. "He use ter herd sheep for a nurn erbout ther gtilchea and rich {daces, an* done tol'ble well like out thar,*' she said. "Bat it's been two years since 1 beerd from Jack myself, though Peter got a letter from him "long this summer. So I be «m Iftdtt well bot Peter never showed me ther letter, an* I don't know tactly whar ter find my bay.* "An* who's Pete*?" aaked the good beart^L if inquisiU'np, Silas. "Petes* Wy, he1* my oldert boy. Peter an' Jack be aU ther ehildnm 1 have Uvin*. Pe^r P«nn*Tlt*ny,

fERKE HAUTE SATTTKE

an* he's married an' got a big fam'ly. It don't seem its I orto tell yer my fam'ly troubles, lint I reckon travelin* so fur tergether makes us not strangers to each other: then talkin' over a body's worries kinder gins relief." "Yer kin trust me, mother," said the big westerner. "Peter was ther oldest o' ther boys 1 raised, an' alius a mite bossy like ^er pore Jack. Jack was all of a dozen years younger'n Peter, an' he was alius full o' life an' go. an' jest a wee bit wild, with nothing very bad erbout him. His heart's a big one an* in ther right place, an' I bel'eve ther Lord o* all will rescue my Jack yit. I hain't lost my faith none. "Well, when Peter got married an' come ter live with Jack tin' me he went ter bossin' Jack more'n he, so high strung like, would bear. So he ups an' runs away out west, an' ther furst thing 1 knowed he wrote as he was tendin' critters on a ranch in Colerader. "Then I gin In ter Peter's persna S?:.mJi3S.SJ.El2EeiS?S!r«S£'1S! me an' keer fur me durin' my natu life. But he growed greedy an' graspitf, an' 1 reckon tired o' me, though ther good Lord knows as 1 was spry in doin' enough ter 'arn my eatin' an' clo'se. An' Peter's wife was a dreadful, scoldin' woman, an was overbearin' toward me. "Then ther childorn went ter school, which I' was mighty proud of. But they'd come home an' make speeches on my quare talk thet hurt mo sore. "So it wore on till ther worry got erway with me, an' I threated right out ter Peter's wife as 1 would run off an* work somewhars by ther day's work, But she snapped out as Td better try runnin' erway ef I wanted ter git myself shut up in ther insane house fur addled old women. Then Peter an' her talked so much erbout doin' me thet way ef 1 complained any more that I jest held my peace. I was jest waitin' my time, an' when they was all gone frum ther farm ter a doin's 1 run off with a few traps an' started further west an' Jack and as she closed her simple recital she leaned back and wept softly.

Silas Carrick fumbled nervously in his pocket for. his big, blue cotton handkerchief, which he vigorously used. When Mrs. Tompkins had erased her crying Silas asked: "An' yer don't know 'tactly whar yer boy ST "No, but 1 reckon HI "find him," she answered hopefully. "The same Father above that set a bright, shinin' starter guide them three men 'cross the desert in the fur east still watches over this strayin' sheep, an' will sure lead meter my Jack." "Well, mother, ef yer*ll let me 1 be goin' ter help yer find Jack," said Silas.

She carried his big, toil worn hand to her face Mid pressed her lips to it. And so the promise was Accepted and sealed.

Silas Carrick was like a son to the lone old woman. When they arrived at Denver he planed her under the care of a good woman, who had been a neighbor of his in Illinois.

Silas had been in Colorado before and knew some stock dealers in Denver. To these he went, making diligent inquiries about Jack Tompkins. Bnt they could give him no information. So the days lengthened into weeks, and nothing had been learned of the whereabout* of Jack. However, faithful Silas did not relinquish the search.

It wanted two days to Thanksgiving, and the snow was falling softly over the beautiful city of the plains. An aged woman, with hair like the snowflakas, Mood at a window, looking with longing eyes down the busy stzeet at the crowds pausing ceaselessly "Thar powerful kind tor me here," she said to herself. "But It's diffrant from udn' with body's own. Them folks out in town scans mighty happy an' gay, an* thac% a sight of *em paasfc* erbout, but, my Lord! thou know«a& titer tonetisess my heart Help me ter fiztd my

A* if in immediate amer to her pay. sr the door opened, and SQas Carrick stood, flashed and excited, before ber. "Yer kin ngofoe, mother! Pre Jeet

J,It

**-l^L

EVENING MAIL

liurd from a cowboy whar yer Jack "is?* be said. ''Ther Lord.be be good! HQs mercy endures alius," she cried. "Tell me erbout my Jack." "Ther cowboy said as Jack has a farm or ranch o' his own over in Cedar Gulch, nn' he's doin* fust rate. But. mother," and be took her hand kindly, "don't be skeered when I tell yer. Jack be laid up in his cabin in the gulch. His pony thxowed him, but he's gittin' better now." "My pore boy! Take me ter him. Silas," die implored.

It was Thanksgiving day, and the sun beamed down upon Cedar Gulch pleasantly, its light striking a little cabin that, nestled on the bank of a clear mountain stream.

Jack Tompkins was able to hobble to the little fireplace for the first time since he had been laid up by what had been almost a fatal accident for him. "An' this be Thanksgivin' day among civilized folks," he said to his hired man. "Well, Ben. I be spendin' it fur diffrant frum what 1 aimed. I lowed ter go back ter Pennsylvany an' take Thanksgivin' an' Christmas with my ole mother. 1 hain't seen her fur goin' on sixteen year, I reckon. An' pore mother! Pete writes as she be helpless with ther rheumatis. Ben, I hate myself fur gittin' on thet drunk an' ridin' my pony like mad, an' gittin' tlirowed over them rocks. I'm too mean ter live, an' I don't feci a mite thankful nur nuthin fur sparin' my ornery life. If Td behaved myself an' staid sober I could a gi'n mother sech a surprise, an' though I hain't much force I know it'd be a plumb Thanksgivin' ter mother to see her Jack ag'in." •'Yes, an' I 'low, Jack, you'd gi'n right smart o' thanks ter be tuck up an' sot right down by yer mammy tliia minute." remarked Ben. "Thet I would," and Jack bowed his head thoughtfully.

Ben went out of the cabip for more wood to pile on the fireplace but before he had gathered up a stick .some one called out: '5 "Hello!"

Ben turned and saw a span of mules hitched to alight wagon, in which sat a big, robust man and a little old woman, with a veil tied over her face. "Is this hyer ther cabin o' Jack Tompkins?" the man asked.

is, stranger," returned Ben., "Be yer Jack?" "No Jack's in ther cabin by ther fire. He's been sorter used up fur a spell."

Ben approached the wagon, and Silas Carrick sprang out to whisper in his ear: "Say, pardner, thet little ole woman 1 have brung, an' a weepin' soft tears' o' joy back o'her veil.be Jack's mother, come all the way fruin Pennsylvany ter hold Thanksgivin' with her boy." "Jack was just talkin' erbout her ter me^' replied Ben in a husky voice. "He's real down hearted." "Wall, he'll have cause for thanksgivin' now," answered Silas. "Here, pother, let me help yer out," and he took her in his strong arms and lifted tho irronml TVIOT* e«nug the trembling form to the door said, "Jack's in thar, mother yer go right on in." He opened the door of the cabin for her, kindly helped her in, then closed it behind her. "Yo'n' me be goin' ter stay out hyer, pardner," he said to Ben, "till that meetin's over between 'em."

At that moment there were two simultaneous cries of joy, and the men outside knew that tho aged runaway was clasped to Jack's breast They walked quickly away and began to uuhitch the team.

About an hour later Ben and Silas entered the cabin, where they found Jack and his mother sitting side by side near the fireplace, he holding her dear old hands in his. big ones, while her motherly face beamed with perfect happiness. "This is my Jack," she said proudly, by way of introduction, to Silas. "Yer my own brother, Silas Carrick," he cried, grasping Silas' hand "after all yer've done fur my mother 1 couldn't never call yer aught else. Besides, I'm in need of an own brother. I hain't got none," he said, with a supreme contempt that utterly ignored the relationship of Peter Tompkins.

As Silas Carrick returned tho pressure of Jack's hand and looked into the clear blue eyes, that revealed a kindly nature, he feUt satisfied that the mother would never lack for love and truest attention from her Jack. "A feller never gits too old ter need mother," he said "an' I kain't begin ter ttpeak my obligations ter Providence fur bein' so good in bringin' mother safe ter me. I want ter just git Peter Tompkins onto* my head, an' think only o* good things an' good folks, asll help me ter be the better man I'm aimin' ter make o' myself. 1 was awful down spirited like, bnt now tfiy Thanksgivin's running overf "An' so be miner cried Jack's mother. "The Lord has restored meter complete happiness, after all my trouble, with my Jack on this blessed Thanksgivin'."—A. H. Gibson, in New York Observer.

Hereford's Acid Phosphate. Bwonnnadsd by Pliyslcbuu.

of aU scf*H)U for the brain, nerve* and gtomach.

COMES ff,. -jf srowe

THIS SLIP

tfar-

CYRUS W. FlELw'S SUNFLOWERS.

They Are Xot Onl/ Thing* of Beauty, but or Utility us WcU.

Tears of ecstasy would have filled the eyes of the now

obsolete,

but always

{esthetic, Oscar Wilde could he have stood and viewed the field of sunflowers cultivated by Cyrus W. Field on his country estate, Ardsley, near Tarrytown, on the Hudson. The sunflowers covered an entire acre, and with heads heavy and drooping from the recent rain they were just lifting their faces to the morning sun, their bright yellow petals in pleasing contrast with their dark center of green and brown. It was an array of giants. The tough green stalks would have averaged over six feet in height, and some of them towered up to seven feet

But these flowers are not cultivated alone to gratify Mr. Field's aesthetic taste. The man who connected America and Europe with an electric cable is nothing if not practical. He believes in uniting beauty and utility. So, when he drives out by the sunflower grove, and his love for the beautiful is touched by that sea of bobbing yellow heads, the practical part of his nature finds solid comfort iu the thought that these flowers are put to good use. Others may delight in the tender orchid or the gay chrysanthemum, with their endless variety of shades, but these are only fair to look upon. Not so with the hardy yellow bloomer, which Mr. Field loves so well.

When the frosts of autumn shrivel up the petals of the flowers and the center turns a deep, rich brown, then the tops of the flowers are carefully cut and hung up to dry. In about a month the little black flat seeds which till tho head of the flower are thrashed out and fed to the chickens in Mr. Field's extensive henneries: So, on the days when a fine specimen from the coops lies oil his back, nicely browned, in tho platter, with his drumsticks lifted heavenward, Mr. Field naturally reflects in the strain of the familiar nursery rhyme. "This is the cock that ate the seed that grew on the top of my sunflower weed."

And how gratifyiug must be the thought that tho beauty of the summer has been transformed into the toothsome breast and tender wing. This reflection might escUpe the aforesaid Oscar, but it is no doubt a source of much pleasure to the millionaire who cultivates and admires the same flower. "Do you sow new seeds for these sunflowers every spring?" was asked of Fred Allison, who has charge of the field. "Yes," he said, "we plant new seed every year, and put them in hills as we sow corn. About the middle of September we cut off the tops, hang them up to dry, and in another month they are ready to shell. We mix the seeds with the other chicken feed." "How many chickens do you keep?" he was asked. "About two thousand," he said, "as that number takes up all the space in our three hnnaos. From these chickens we gather over three tnotwaiul doeen eggs each year. All eggs that the families do not use we sell. There are three families to supply—Mr. Field, his son, Edward M. Field, and his son-in-law, D. A Lindley—and they use from fifty to sixty dozen eggs a week." "Do you keep ducks?"' "Yes, we have about six hundred ducks and about sixty geese. We sell what ducks we don't want for home use. but the chickens we keep, as the families use a great many. The three families use from fifteen to eighteen chickens, four or five ducks and about two geese a week."—New York Times.

8«rving

Bannnai.

A favorite way of serving bananas in New Orleans is to cut them lengthwise in two pieces, dust them with powdt'red sugar, a little lemon juice aud bits butter, and babe them in the oven for tu ^ve miuMcfe. They should heba»J«»i the but ter onoe or twice while baking, md served hot in tlie dish in which they are cooked. Home Companion.

Is a constitutional and not a local disease. anft therefore it cannot be cored by local applications. It requires a constitutional remedy like Hood's Sarsaparflla, which, working through the blood, eradicates the impurity which causes and promotes the disease, and effects a permanant core. Thousands of people testify to Uie success of Hood's Sarsaparilla as a remedy for catarrh when other preparations had failed. Hood's Sarsaparilla also builds up the whole system, and makes you feel renewed in health and strength.

X. B. If yon decide to try Hood's ftarsapartlla do not be induced to buy any other

fgpedmen Copies sad Bcsutliul

TBI TOCTHTI COXPAJnOX FB.KS

CO., Apotfcecarie*, towel1, MUM. by C.

mPfiSSa

iicnmJ AND

«jf» Uker WmUf P*per ghm to grtat a Tandy of E*d*rla*m*f end fUadinf

Tt say KKV StKSCKIlUt «le will eat act sstf Ml a* tfcl# »YI» wftfti aaa»» **4

«I«I S1.73 JWNF JEtpnm XNUV Ontor or AtflMsrai

tm Jhunmrr*

fUsaftr taeia4e* the FIT* DOCBU HOLIDAY JfUMBSB* tmr Ttaaluviftst, CMMMD XnrTtw'tilaiMraslFMnlMMab, uialltlwlllaKiawlWMkirltepMeaetMc. THK YOUTH'S COMPAlilOW, 41 Tamnf Ptaoa, Sowo*.

tksstvlng

HLV DEAR MR. TURKEY—May wo count on your presence at dinner ou Thursday, tho SDth! No great preparation Is needed, os wo feel sure you will be well th-essed. Yoa will bo the cynosure of all eyes and the object of open mouthed admiratiou.

Yoa will meet with hearty reception from some men, who will come to dinner after the exercises of tha morning, which may violent, and pui need oqt fear but that several pretty girls, who ore to be present, will like you very much. Your old friend, Cranberry Sauce, will bo placed near you—and you two always {jot along beautifully together, you know. The paterfamilias will pay you marked attention and se» that you art* not monopolized by any ono jwrson.

Poor old grandma, whoso teeth siv not what tfcey be. is especially »r.ti«g on your temienwBtt.. It may amuse you. «.•«•«•(helesa It is a i»t that cvt?n the cook r.att-s our corains, aud is tnakinj- jrreat prrK.tiitfous in ou sequenw.

You will bo surromwted by pretty rirlss am! b» in the midst of those who will bo^un. to appreciate you. We look to you to appeal to tho imrer consciousness of our piflsts. Until Thursday, tbon, yours. EVKHVBO&V. 1*. &—It may fall to your lot to touch th« Hps of some of tho Rirls Take warning—you won't bepermitted to linger lonj ia that onviablo proximity. .. from

It i* Mistake

To try to cure catarrh by using local applications. Catarrh is not a local but a constitutional disease. It Is not a disease of the man's nose, but of tho man. Therefore, to effect a cure, requires a constitutional remedy like ilood'a Sarsaparilia, which,1 acting through the blood,. reaches every part of the system, expelling the taint which causes the disease, and imparting health.

Kemnrkitblc K«»cne.

Mrs. Michael Curtain, Plainfield, 111., makes the statement that she caught cold, which settled on her lungs she was treated for a month by her family physician, but grew worse. IJo told her she was a hopeless victim of consumption and that no medicine could cure her. Her druggist suggested Dr. King's New Discovery for Consumption' she bought a bottle and to her delight found herself benefited from lirst dose. She continued its use and after takiug tan bottles, found herself sound and well, now does her own housework and is as well as she ever was. Trial bottles of this Gie it Disco vcrv at J. A- C. Baur's drug store, large bottles 60c. and $1. '•&

Hold It to the Uffht.

The man who teils you confidently juxt what will cure your cold is prescribing Kemp's Balsam this year. In tho preparation of this remarkable medicine for coughs and colds no expense Is spared to combine only tho best and purest ingredients. Hold a bottle of Kemp's Balsam to the light, and look turough it notice the bright, clear look then compare with other remedies. Price 50c. and 91 Sample bottle free,

100 I-adle* Wanted.

And 100 men to call on any druggist for a free trial package of Lane's Family Medicine, the great root and herb remedy, discovered by Dr. Silas Lane while in the Rocky Mountains. For diseases of the Blood, Liver aud Kidneys it is a positive cure. For constipation and clearing up of the complexion it does wonders, it is the best spring medicine known. Large sisse package, fiOc. At all druggists'.^

Forced to Lea?e Home.

Over 60 people were foreod to leave their homes yesterday to call at their druggist's for a free trial package of Lano's Family Medicine.

your

blood

is bad, your llvor aud kidneys out of order, if you are constipated and have a headache and an unsightly complexion, don't fail to call on any druggist to-day for a free sample of this grand remody. The ladles praise it. Everyone likes ft, Large-siae oackage 60 cents

Auk Your Friend* Abaut It, Your distressing cough can be cured. »Ve know it because Kemp's Balsam within the past few years has cured so many coughs and oolds In this community. Its remarkable dale haa been won entirely by its genuine merit. Ask some friend who has used it what be thinks of Kemp's Balsam. There Is no medicine so pure, none so effective. Large bottles 50c and $1 at all druggists'. Sample bottle free.

To Cure a Had Cough

Use "Dr. Kilmer's Cough Cure (Consumption Oil). It relieves quickly, stops tickling In the throat. Hacking, Catarrh dropping, Decline, Night-sweat and prevents death from consumption. Price 25c. Pamphlet Free. Blnghampton, N. H. Sold, recommended and guaranteed bv J. & C. Baur.

Hood's Sarsaparilla

S«M1v4r«gKisti. fl «txfor|a. only SoUl by

HOOD

St.

HOOD A CO.,

IOO Doses One Dollar IOO Doses One Dott&r

saSETs^5i] SmML ISlMW6

FREE TO JAN. i, 1891.

LtOsr et tmr rti*%

t'J

I used Hood's Barsapftrilla for catarrh, and received great relief and benefit from it,, the catarrh was very disagreeable, causing constant discharge from my noiie, ringing noises in my ears, and pains in Uie back of my head. The effect to clear my head In the morning by hawking and spitting was painful. Hood's Sarsaparilla gave me relief immediately. wlille in time I was entirely cured. I think Hood's Sarsaparilla Is worth its weight In gdld." Mn*. O. B. GIBB, 1029 Eighth Street,

S.W.,

Washington, D, C.

Hood's Sanaparllla lias helped me more for catarrh and impure blood than anything else I ever used." A.

BAVL,

Syracuse, N,

0rogafi»tt.

#l «!xfor#S. Prepared

oafj

Apothecaries Lowell, Mast

sent Free.

THE I

AYEMt

WITH $1.76

will a«s4

1M1. «wl tor a Fall Ye*r flwa Omt Dais.

'.Jl- ...