St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 21, Number 27, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 25 January 1896 — Page 2

WHEN NANCY FROWNS. /When Nancy frowns the table cloth Seems with the cups and saucers wroth; (The pepper boxes are overturned, ।The steak anil biscuit both are burned, IThe coffee is as thick as mud, (And through the rooms the kittens scud When Nancy frowns. !rhe grocer gets hi. order wrong, ‘a nd brings us butter that is strong; The coal gives out, the wood is wet, |Tbe children o'er their playthings fret, ;And just as true and sure as fate, [The dinner is an hour late, When Nancy frowns. [The afternoon secs things still worse; ‘The mistress cannot find her purse; (Some not o'er welcome neighbor calls; The baby from his high chair falls; [Some agent rings and will not go, Till he is fifty times told no! When Nancy frowns. Nancy whom I have written ’bout Is our domestic, strong and stout. We dare not let her go as yet, For fear a worse one we may get. That’s been our record in the past, Each one is still worse than the last, j So let her frown. —Boston Globe. . iAT A BARN DANCE. T made up my mind to do a really •awful tiling when I went to the HayThesiger's ball. lam the only daugh!ter of one of the richest commoners in •England. I came out two years ago land I had not been out very long beIfore I began to have offers. I once read a book called “How Men Propose.” Some day I shall write a sequel to it. lam competent to do so. "What's more, I could add a chapter to say how .women do it. too. when they are driven ,to desperation, though that part is a great secret. i I am not exactly a beauty, but I do know how to dies.- A woman who has that knowledge and the means Io jese it needs no more. I think I can say without vanity that my eyes are good They are gray and sparkling and long, with very curly lashes. Yet .there are plenty of jealous people who say that it is only “les beaux yens de ma cassette" that makes me popular. Ido not care any more. lam idiotically happy because 1 know perfectly wi ll that in the eyes of one man I should be just as charming if the “Bellfield patent” had never “revolutionized the cycling world." * 1 quote an advertisement, but though .we advertise we are not vulgar. Indeed, grandpa was a younger son .and did not work for his living, preferring ' to drag up his family on a small allowance. Papa's tastes were different, luckily for me. He being merely a younger son's younger son, the family dignity had dwindled and hardly seemed worth while supporting at such pains. , So Saranna Bellfield is a catch and might have married—a lord two lords and a knight's eldest son, though that Js beside the mark. My admirers said I was cynical, for sometimes I laughed at them, 1 couldn't help it. I decided at 19 that I had no heart, and that I would accept the first really eligible 1 ^arty that came along. It sounded iasy. It was easy, until I went into the 1 'country to stay with a friend of mine, married to a clergyman who was an 1 honorable—as well as merely reverend. ' 3 was sick of being the Miss Bellfield. ! I persuaded my friend t® let me be a first cousin of hers, down at Cherring- 1 lon-on-Tarn. Site is a good, easy soul. f BI is reverence liatl gone away to a conference. I overpersuaded her, and— I Well, I had a lovely time as Miss Kitty J 'Bent. ! ( It was such an innocent sort of name. 3 took no maid and dressed the part to 1 perfection in pink ginghams and mus- 1 lins. Cherrington-on-Tarn is a very (quiet spot: the seasons there consist of . i (two school treats and a Hower show. ! 1 •At all three I met the one man. ' 1 : He was the doctor's son at home on 1 j holiday, and he fell in love with me • 'directly. I thought. He is tremendous- : ly clever; they think all the world of 1 him in his hospital. He is good looking. 'I think. He did not propose to me. ' 1 though there were opportunities. Jesse j (was absorbed witli a baby, and she had ; no idea how often Miss Kitty Bent met . ■Hugh Maydwell. At first I did it for fun. but when I /ot back to London and Major PeileFarquharson began to be attentive, then 3 knew how much happier Kitty Bent pas than Saranna Bellfield. I did not give way to my feelings. I rather hated to realize that I had any. House surgeons of big hospitals don't go in society. I dare say, they flirt with the piirsi’s. horrid thing's; but that's all. I Then Major Farquharson came on my horizon, very young to be a major at all, and very handsome. Luckily I (found how utterly selfish lie was otherpvise, as Dr. Maydwell had apparently entirely forgotten Miss Bent: * * * I •Mamma is a dear, kind-hearted thing, j find when I announced that I intended ; Ao go to Mrs. Hay-Thesiger's with that ' horrid Mrs. Ewart Vano, she let me I do it. I told Major Farquharson to be i (there; and then 1 told mamma he was ( •going. It was naughty, but one day 1 (got Mrs. Hay-Thesiger to give me a plank card for a friend of ours, and Bent it to Dr. Maydwell. I wanted him Wo see me in mv glory, and I wanted still 4nore to see if I should like him in ’a ballroom as much as at Cherrington-ou-Tarn I went warily to work. I (wrote a short note with the invitation, >aid I would be there, signed it K. (Bent, and wrote on plain paper with bo address! j Very bold and unwomanly, but what (was I to do? I knew he liked KUty; iff Kitty, why not Saranna Catherine? •It was his awful pride and independence that I dreaded. He had told me ,Tcry meaningly that he would never ask a woman to marry him until he could give her a comfortable home. He never apparently contemplated the

possibility that she might have means to supply that. There was a lovely rose at Cherrlngton in the vicarage garden, Ileve d’or. I used to wear the buds in my white gown. I got a dress for the ball of their exact shade. I wore one in my hair, quite in the old heroine style that has come back again, and I had a very simple posy to match, instead of carrying Major Farquharson’s big, rather vulgar creation of orchids. There were not five people who were in society at Mrs. Thesiger's. But the ball was thoroughly well done, and except Major Farquharson no one appeared to be at all sensible of the fact. There was a girl there who lived quite near his mother in the country; the two families wore intimate, I knew. The girl was not very young any longer, though she was certainly pleasing. She had a few partners, and I noticed that when Victor Farquharson passed her with a smiling bow she looked disappointed. Years ago that girl had had what people call a disappointment. She had loved someone who did not love her. Perhaps she was all the more pained by the marked neglect of an old inend. I saw a touch of sadness in her eyes, and it made me realize sharply that the attentive cavalier who was asking so humbly what I would give hint-had no real good nature. I knew by signs that he meant to be even more empresse than usual. He was so handsome that sometimes my heart had beaten quite fast when he had made love to me. He was standing beside me with that devoted air he erm put on so well, when I suddenly saw Dr. Maydwell. He looked older and rather jaded; neat enough; but certainly not fashionable at all. He was very grave when he saw me. I sup- j pose the young person in radiant golden brocade was not quite the same as Kitty in her Liberty hat. He just glanced at Major Farquharson, and was obviously going’to pass on without even asking me for a dance! Then it flashed across me that lie had a foundation. and that he was angry. He looked quite stern. 1 dismissed Major Farquharson unmistakably: "Ten and eleven, if I ain here.’’ I did not care for his annoyance. He had made Ellice Wedderburn unhappy, and he was showing Mrs. Thesiger how exclusive and superior he was. by be- 1 ing thoroughly useless. Just to make me a Peile-Farquharson by marriage j would be a supreme honor, he evidently imagined. My own opinion was rather i different. I was not going to pay for j his hunters and other amusements in j exchange for that dubious privilege. Then I held out my hand to Dr. j Maydwell. “Have you forgotten mo I altogether?" He did look stern; but it rather became him. “I expected to meet a lady who is nor here. Miss Bellfleld.” he began very coldly. “This sort of tiling is not much in my way, and I think I had better say j goal-night. I could not resist a chance of meeting Miss Kitty Bent again, but as that is impossible the sooner I get back to my work the better. It was ; absurd of me to come at all." They were just beginning the barn dance, with that irritating persistent tune. I fixed my . es on the swaying figures, some of them so awkward. There was a lump in my throat, and I really couldn’t speak. The remembrance of the river at Chcrrington, and the sunshine on it. came across me. He had looked so brown and so cheer- j ful in his canoe; he was so pale, and I so evidently indignant now, that I could hardly get the words out. I bad never been afraid of a man before. 1 was now. He evidently meant what he said. “If I ask you to stay and sit out the barn dance you will, surely. I—l—want to tell you something.” He acquiesced so icily that 1 felt all my courage vanishing. We found a little room that was empty and sat down. I caught him looking at my roses, but he pretended lie was doing nothing of the sort. It was be who began, after all, to the inappropriate accompaniment of the barn dance music. “So you were playing in a little com- , edy down at Chcrrington, and the Miss Bent I knew was a purely imaginary person. Surely it must be pleasanter to be Miss Bellfield, and to have ail London competing for your favor.” Major Farquharson had passed the open door and given a surprised stare at us, as he said this, and 1 felt 1 haled him for such rudeness. "I was sick of being myself, that was : why I did it. People pretended Io like me, and made so much of me, ami I ‘ knew it was merely money, money.” “And were you successful in finding out if you were charming enough to ' captivate without it?” His manner was chilly sarcasm.itself. A memory j of all the things he had said and looked : overcame me. “You ought to know,” I whispered. It was dreadful, but you see I saw now that if he once went there would only be misery for me. He did not even smile. “Y'ou sought j to break a country heart for pastime I ore you went to town," was his rejoin- : dor. Quotations are not in good taste made like that. He hurt me; he misunderstood me. I have my faults, but I am not heartless. I have only done as other people do—in fact, less than most of them. I plucked up courage and tried again. “I think, Dr. Maydwell, you arc masquerading as much as I was, or else you really have become quite different; you never t allwdJjfrfß'ffy*^ you were boating^nthe Tarn.” “No, I made a fool of myself by talking nonsense; most people do when it doesn't rain in August.” Now. could anything be stupider? Here was Hugh Maydwell—a man who had got gold medals in physiology, or pathology, or something—conducting a conversation as if he had not two ideas in his head, i

“At any rate you were very much more civil to Kitty Bent than you are to Saranna Bellfield, yet they are one and the same.” “Indeed, they are nothing of the sort ” he broke in hotly. “The one was ’ a simple country girl full of pure thoughts and high ideals. She was a s poor as I am;"we met on the same level With Miss Bellfield, in her fashionable splendors, with her great fortune, i have nothing, can have nothing to do Your trick was an unfair one; you took advantage of my ignorance. Only a woman would be clever enough to put on another manner, another nature with a big hat and a pink gown.” Somehow I was cheered by his remembering the color. It was a Paris dress really, and had cost a frightful amount. For that adorable simplicity they know how to charge. I daresay he thought that if he married somebody on nothing a year she would wear frocks and hats of that pattern. All the time the dancers were in front of us and that tune kept buzzing on. “I did not put on another nature „ I couldn’t if I tried. I think you are) most cruel. I suppose you think V change my friends as easily as I Aoi my clothes?” “The way in which Miss treats her friends can be nothing to me.” He was hateful, and yet every minute I felt I could not, could not let him go. Quite suddenly I knew that I loved him; that nothing in the world mattered, because I knew that he loved me. How did I know? Oh, I can't explain, lint I did. I grew bolder. "You cared once about being my friend, or at any rate you said you did.” “Miss Bellfleld, I think I ought to j offer you my congratulations and to i say good-night. That idiotic barn dance is over.” “Congratulations?” I said it with a whole string of notes of interrogation. “1 mean upon your engagement to Major Peile-Farquharson.” He rose as he said this and was turning quickly away when I stopped him. He told me afterward I spoke quite passionately. “I am not engaged to Major Farquharson or any one else. People have no right to say such things. Down at Cherrington ” “Down at Chcrrington the village [ gossips might have fancied that a peni niless doctor had been indiscreet I enough to ask a penniless girl to wait | for him for an indefinite number of I years; they were just as far from the । truth, probably much further.” All my security vanished. I felt I wretched so wretched that my eyes j were full of tears; one even fell on I the roses in my hand. He saw that tear, but he was just as obdurate, just as angry; apparently not even relieved to hear that I was free, when I might have been Lady Sandellion but for him. I didn't care what I did or what he-‘ thought. • Slie would have waited all ! her life.” < How I got out those seven words I : wonder still. More tears fell as I .said them, and there was an awful silence. Then he began in such a different voice. "You cannot moan what you are saying.” He was standing and looking down intently. He has the best eyes I ever saw. they are so honest, but I could not face them after that deed of daring. "I mean it with all my heart." “You make it hard for me,” lie continued. “Wien I let Kitty guess I cared for her I thought perhaps a time might c-aie when I could claim the i right to ask her to be a poor man's wife: you are a great heiress, and if I am poor I am proud. You force me to tell you that I love you. not to put the । foolish question that has but one possible answer.” Then I revolted once for all against the tradition of what is maidenly and right. “Hugh, can't you understand, must I tell you that all my money is nothing to me and that I only want : you?” • He told me later that it was too pathetie, that he had always dreaded to see a woman cry. But he kissed me, and somehow it all perfectly right and natural. Half an hour later, just as we were ; so happy, that horrid Major Farquharson came for his two dances. “Take ; care of one of my roses till No. 12, Dr. Maydwell,” I said, “and come here then |to find me.” Y'ou see, I was reckless, ; and I wanted the major to see how I things were. Hugh took the flowers obediently and went off. Positively ■ they had put in another barn dance. Major Farquharson wanted to sit it our. but I knew better. He must have been obtuse not to have guessed. 1 j felt so utterly content I thought every- ■ body would notice my face. We dancI cd. There is something hopelessly sentimental about a barn dance. I was in mad spirits now. Mamina and papa are dears and quite manageable: , there would be scenes, but I should ( have my way in the end. Providen- ’ tially the Maydwells are a very old : family, and mamma, who came of no j family at all. so to speak, is very particular on that point. Hugh’s mother j had a pedigree that would bear the I most searching scrutiny. ( To face the parents was a minor as- ! fair, indeed, after the awful ordeal I ! had come through. My partner was । vcr y gloomy. He did not respond to my . liveliness, ami in j dancfl^B^r took me into the cou■Wervatory in the interval and I let him I say his say. He said it most condej scendingly. Lord Sandellion had been 1 careful lo let me realize what an honor ; he was doing me, but even he was i nothing to Major Farquharson. I listened with a sort of satisfaction, and then I refused him point blank. I had no want of fluency in this case, j but J have never seen any created be- ; । ing look as amazed as he did. lam no | scalp hunter, yet I absolutely reveled

tn the prospect of telling Hugh this o<M ’ currence. Up at llim and coollyr The fact is, lam engaged already.” I That being the case, there is nothing more to be said, except that you have behaved heartlessly to me.” He tried to put on a disconsolate air, but it was a dead failure. I smiled: “You cared nothing for me, so I need not say I am sorry; you must have a u'f» Wh ° admire F° u > and I never <mi. He was very angry, but far too dignified to show it. And I went back to Hugh We were married at the end of the season and I am the happiest woman in England. I thought I would write this in case any other poor girl is burdened with a fortune, as I was. I read a story once about proposals from ladies. One girl in it told her friend that “it simply wasn’t done.” She was wrong, you see.—Black and White. About tho American Voice. The American voice has won an un- . enviable reputation for Its supposed disagreeable quality. This reputation is in part deserved, for no careful ob- [ «<wver can fall to notice that many of our people in ordinary conversation are • constantly in error in regard to their •natural pitch and utterly fail in puritj’ of tone, says the Boston Transcript. They speak in either too high or too low a key and the tones are more or less forced into a disagreeable mixture of the nasal-muscular quality. Apologists have attributed tills defect to the nervous temperament of the people and to the disastrous effects of a variable climate. But the true explanation Is found in a lack of proper training. The American voice, when properly educated, is no less melodious ami agreeable than that of any other nationality. Bad qualitj' of voice is due simply to bad habit in its use. Correct the habit and the voice is changed, and becomes what it was designed to be by the Creator. It is amazing that so manj- young men spend, after a long period of preparatory training, four years in college and almost an equal period thereafter in professional schools, and then go to the pulpit or the liar totally unfitted vocally for the successful prosecution of their life work. And it is even more amazing that multitudes fitted by their culture to adorn social life destroy their chances of success by a lack of vocal training. They might have been good singers, readers or reciters but for their own neglect. If a correct system of vocal physiology and technique were engrafted into our public school system there would be an Immense gain to the culture of the nation. Not all arc public speakers or readers, but everybody talks, and to converse In a well-modulated, melodious voice is an accomplishment worth striving hard to obtain. Keep Away from a Strained Hawser! X “It's a good thing to do to keep away .Trom a hawser when there's a strain on Ssild a South street stroller, "and •H away from it. Tho other day I W a big st<ambi>at start out holding 'on to a bow line to help pull her head around against the strong tide that was running. It was a big hawser, but somewhat worn, and the strain on It was tremendous. It creaked and creaked as it stretched and shifted on the spile as the boat moved out and the tuen standing near ali moved back. Fresently bang! it went, parting over the stringpieee, and away blew the free end out over the water toward the boat. The loop remaining around the head of the spile, freed from the great, strain upon it. recoiled a foot or two. “That would break a man's leg if it hit It." said one of the men on the wharf, ami he told of a case in which a man's leg had been broken by the recoil of the loop of a parted hawser. This loop, watersoaked, ami with its fibres packed hard under repeated strains, was solid and heavy. It was easy enough to imagine that it would have broken a man's leg if it had hit it. It is a good thing to keep well away from a hawser when there's a strain on it."— New York Sun. Why Hice Isn't in the Bible, A book before us says: “Bice is not mentioned in the Bible, as it did not grow in the countries in which the Bible happenings occurred.” We think the author is mistaken. The fact that the word “rice” does not appear is no evidence of the non-existence of a product that in the Bible era was feeding the majority of the world's people. From the earliest ages the blanket expression, “corn,” has been used to cover all manner of grains and seeds used for food. In England the word now applies to barley, rye, oats, and more spcm^pcaHy wheat; in Scotland it usually nieaiis oats, while here It only refers to-nuaize. The word “corn" frequently occurs in the Bible, and when wo consider the enormous commerce of Palestine, particularly in the days of Solomon, it is natural to suppose that rice was among the imports, and that, like wheat and other grains, it finds shelter under tho market term, “corn. "—Aberdeen Examiner. She Knew Him. Henry Irving, whose face has, through advertisement and illustration, become familiar to many people, was one day at a seaside resort, when he noticed a little girl looking at him fixedly. “Well, my dear,” said he, “do you know who I am?” “Yes, sir,” was the shy reply. “Well, who am I, then?” ■S-^'You are one of ’s pills." face bad figured in n i<’ widely spread an advertiscmenrmy,,,. . J 1 pills.—Minneapolis —• — -*I ein ber. „ A ' al ’ ,ab ?f s lsball player you De Hamme—That baso» took on last week any go<i d ’ d „ Barnes Tormer-Yos. iK own at us . catches every egg that is tin, —lndianapolis Journal. ~ ... — .... o know Life is full of trials—and W 4 some lawyers who are glad of it.

Sebastopol Was Not Impregnable, Imnirn! taken by assault, but a physique ter’s Storo n ph n mw Ut,On fOTtifled Hostetth» o 1 may bld defiance to ho ® u,tß . of n ’«ln«"Dus disease even in rnaTienani'*^^ U s raost Prevalent and Actions ague-breeding .L i f ? h< ‘ " est should bear this in ni'A™’r.o n<l with a supply. The Bitters BU V d 1 " < “ s dyspepsia, rheumatic and o„ < ;i l, ^n onip aints , nervousness, constipation and biliousness. A Gourmand. Miss Gushah—My lord, during all your American tour which of the belles has proven the most irresistibly alluring? His I.ordship—The—a w —dinner-bells, I assure you.—New York "World. Hijh, Dow, Jack. Fine ice m.'ans very cold weather, then comes a high old time in skating rinks, and skating ponds, on slides and rides, and we go home tired and overheated. It s the same old story of cooling off: off with wraps and on with all sorts of aches and pains, rheumatic, neuralgic, sciatic, lumbagic. including frost-bites, backache, even toothache. They who dance must pay the piper. We cut up Jack and are brought low I>y our own folly. What of it the dance will go on. all the same. It is generally known that St. Jacobs Oil will cure all such aches and pains separately or collectively, and the cry is on with the uance. Not Much. He—l am so afraid your father tv ill object. She—Don’t worry. Papa hasn't much influence in this family.—New York Weekly. GOLD AT CRIPPLE CREEK, And the Best Way to Get There Is Over the Santa Fe Route. The fabulously rich gold mining district of (’ripple Creek, Colo., is attracting hundreds of people. By spring the rush bids fair to be enormous. That there is an abundance of gold there is demonstrated beyond doubt. To reach Cripple Creek take the Santa Fe Route from Chicago or Kansas City. The only standard gauge line direct to the camp. Through Pullman sleepers and free chair cars. Tho Santa Fe lands you right in the heart of Cripple Creek. Inquire of nearest ticket agent, or address G. T. Nicholson. G. P. A., A.. T. & S. F. 11. 11., Monadnock Block, Chicago.

They Were Too Late. The belated wayfarer was standing In the shadow of a building, with both hands pointing heavenward, while he gazed into the muzzle of a revolver. One footpad was holding the revolver where it would do the most good in case of an emergency, and the other was going through the victim's pockets. The silence was so oppressive that the belated wayfarer finally felt obliged to speak. "Think you're smart, don't you?" he said. "We know our business," rturned one of the footpads, gruffly. “Os course, you do," said the belated wayfare with something like a sneer. “You know that this is my pay day, I suppose." “Sure." replied the footpad. “That's why we laid for you.” “He ain’t got but (V> c^nfs. Bill.” interrupted the one who had been searchhur ilie v iciim s pockets. "Wot!" cried the other. “That's right." said the belated way- I I farer. chf^rfully. "But you was paid to-day." insisted tlie man with the revolver. "Kight again." admitted the belated wayfarer in the same cheerful tone. | “But somebody got in ahead of you, | and you thought you were so all-fired smart that I II be hanged if I'm not glad of it." “Somebody got your roll?” “Yep." . ; “Who?" “My wife came to the office after it ! this afternoon. Oh. you've got to get up i ' mighty early to beat her." Chicago I Post. "Wiserthan Solomon. A man was recently tried for stealing ft watch from a lady in an oinnibus. The man declared that the watch was his and the woman was mistaken in ' id ‘Utifying it as hers. Suddenly the magistrate asked: “YVhere’s the key?" The prisoner fumbled in his pockets ami said he must have left it at home. The magistrate asked him if he woun 1 the watch frequently with the key. and he said: "Yes.” Then a key was procured, watcli and key were handed the prisoner, and he was told to wind tiie watch. He opened the case, but could not find any place to use the key. It was a keyless watch! He was committed for trial. —Loudon Ymusing Journal. Very Circumspect. "Hiss Pert Is Miss Strait I.aco cirvumspo't ? Miss Caustic Circumspect! 'Why. i she won’t accompany a young man on the piano without a chaperon.—Salem Gazette.

© © • Drs. Maybe and Mustbe. ® w w © ® fib You choose the old doctor before the young' one. Why ? (w) Because you don’t want to entrust your life in inexperienced hands. True, the young doctor may be experienced. But the old doctor must be. You take no chances with Dr. Maybe, when Dr. Mustbc is in reach. Same with medicines as with medicine makers — the long-tried remedy has your confidence. ' ou P re ^ er experience to experiment —when you are concerned. MU' The new remedy may be good — but let somebody else prove it. The old remedy must be good—judged on its record of cures. Just one more reason for choosing AVER’S Sarsaparilla in preference to any other. It has been the standard Op zM. household sarsaparilla for half a century. Its record inspires confidence —SO years of cures. If others may be good, • Ayer’s Sarsaparilla must be. You take no chances when vou take AYER’S Sarsaparilla. ® -)

Nerves Depend upon the blood for sustenance. Iherefore if the blood is impure they are improperly fel and nervous prostration results. To make pure bleed, take Hood’s Sarsaparilla The One True Blood Purifier. All druggists; sl. Hood’s Pills labitual constipanun. Price 25 cents. RADWAY’S PILLS, Purely vegetable, mild and reliable. Cause perfeet digestion, complete absorption and healthful regularity. !• or the cure of all disorders of the Stomach. Bowels, Kidneys, Bladder, Nervous Diseases, Piles, SICK HEADACHE, FEMALE COMPLAINTS, INDIGESTION, j BILIOUSNESS, CONSTIPATION, i DYSPEPSIA, t AND All Disorders of the Liver, Full printed directions in each box; as cents a box. Sold by all druggists. 1 RADWAY & CO., NEW YORK. “Maid of Athens" was written by . Byron during a visit to the Grecian ’ capital. Its heroine was Theresa Macri, i a young woman of great personal beauty. Over thirty years ago “Chambers’ Journal" contained an account of a visit to the Maid of Athens by an English । traveler, who found her an old woman, I utterly destitute of any attraction, and 1 at the time of his visit engaged in washing clothing for some of her numerous grandchildren.

UAPGLEOH, OSCE ASKED FOB AS OPISIOS, Gives a Graphic Description of His Ideal Woman. Mothers Please Note. [SPECIAL TO OVIt LADY BEADEBS-t In response to a question asked by & lady, the great Napoleon replied, —

“ My ideal woman is not thebeaytiful-featured society belle, whose physician tries in vain to keep her in repair, nor ithe fragile butterfly of I fashion, who gilds A the tortures of disease with a forced smile. “ No! my ideal is a woman who has accepted her being as a sacred trust, and who obeys the AH laws of nature for ^^l the preservation of bcr body and soul. “Do you know, my knee involunta■Ki rily bends in homage hen I meet the V matron who reaches middle age in complete preservation. “ That woman is

it ^0 rl« T| H i il M y ' s

'MeI rendered beautiful by perfect health, and the stalwart children 3y her side are her reward. 1 hat smy ideal woman.” To grow to ideal womanhood the girlhood should be carefully guarded. Mothers owe a duty to their daughters that in too many cases is neglected. Nature has provided a time for purification ; and if the channels are obstructed the entire system is poisoned, and misery comes. At a mothers' meeting the wife of a noted New York divine said to her listeners: ” Wateh carefully your daughters' physical development. •• Mothers should see that Natute is assisted, if necessary, to perform its office, and keep their daughters well informed as to matters concerning themselves.” irregularities, from whatever cause, are i sure indications of organic trouble. With irregularities come disturbance of the i stomach and kidneys. Violent headaches often attack the

victim; pains I shoot, everyi where. Exj treme irritability follows I ; quickly, and / then utter I ! despondency , overwhelms the already over-- burdened life. Unless the

obstruction is removed at once, your daughter's whole future will be darkened. Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Compound will accomplish the work speedily, j It is the most effective remedy for irreguI lar or suspended action known.