The Syracuse Journal, Volume 16, Number 34, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 20 December 1923 — Page 9

J | I The Cortlandts of Washington Square | |s , By JANET A. FAIRBANK EH a 3 .'•■■• »I | g S JsSK^^S^SJSaS!SaBS!S«ffiSBSMa2SVS!SaffIBSKaS!SSK£aHSSaVSS-BSSS^SBSSSJSSSSS S

ffluiwmwnaUßM -RUN FOR IT!" SYNOPSlS.—Returning to her home tn » small town. Milton Center, from * visit to New York, the widowed mother of ten-year-old Ann Byrne announces her wedding to Hudson Cortlandt. socially and politically prominent. Her husband has not been told about Ann. and the new wife fears he will be displeased. «itn Ann. Mrs. Cortlandt returns to New York, to tbs house of Hendricks Cortlan**. her husbands brother, with -whom the latter is living. Hudjs-n practically refuse- to ha-n anything to do With Ann. r-ld the child is gladly yy Hendricks Cortlandt An.i‘s mother and stepfather are lost at sea. Ann nils a gap in Hendricks Cortlandt s lonely heart The situation Is resented by Mrs. Rennoslyer. Hendricks' sister, whose son. Hendricks, has been looked upon as tha natural heir to the Corllandt wealth. The Civil ** r breaks out A tentative engagement betwsen youtur Rennealyej and Ann is understood, the youth enlisting. War hospitals ate «•’ tabllshed In New York, and Ana takes up the work of cheering the wounded back from t.-e front. With her guardian. Aflm visits Renntslyer In his oncsrtijment on the outskirts of Washington and meets noted people. Ann devotes herself to Densley Howard, a dying soldier, who tells her, she must not mstry RennesiyWr. Renn, -slyer's name appears In the death Het. soon after Ann had secretly written breaking off their engagement Hendricks Cortlandt goes to Kurope. Ann hears that Renti'Slyer la alive, and starts for the front. Circumstances plunge her into the thick of the Gettysburg struggle. Ann finds Renneslyer ' alive and unhurt. He puts her in charge of Avezzana. Italian military observer, with whom she is compelled to pass the night in a deserted farm house. CHAPTER xm—Continued. The girl's Inclination was to run down the ear to greet him. and to tell every one how wonderfully kind be had been to her, but to her amazement there was no returning smile In his look. His eyes met hers coldly and firmly, and there was a prohibition in them. She did not look up again as the men went through the car, but she could hear the Italian’s soft-voiced felicitations. “In my country we do nothing so -excellent for our wounded. It will greatly Interest the war ministry." They stood for a while gravely dis-' cussing hospital equipment sod then they went sway. Avezzana departed without a single backward look; the only time his eyes had met Ann's was tn that first icy glance; The girl wns furiously angry with him, and bewildered. too. She could not imagine why be should pretend that he did not know her; as she thought of It her Indignation grew, and at the same time she was enormously cast down. It was, perhaps, half an hour before the door opened again, furtively. It was, she supposed, only a brakeman coming to attend to his work, but as no one entered immediately, she became suspicious. She thought that If It was Avezzana she would not Speak to him; a flame of anger swept through her. In a moment the young Italian stuck bls head into the ear und startled her with a brilliant smile. She hastily turned her head away, but somehow she was aware that be pipped . around the door, and dosed It benlnd him with u little burlesque of caution. In no time at all he was beside her. masculine and Impressive, and Ann was, after all. unprepared for him. She wondered nervously what Avezzana would say, but she was taken entirely unaware by his opening. "Nurse, may I ask you some questions In regard to the feeding of your slckr She shook her head. "I am afraid not." she said dryly. “Rut your colonel said it was you I should ask. ... I thought If you would come, for a moment —so that, of course, we shall not disturb your, patient*—to the back platform? You will comer “No. thank you." Still Ann did not look at him. She was enjoying herself; she felt delightfully cruel, and st the some time unsatiated. Avezzana reached for a chair, and drew it dose to hers. Tn that case." be said, “I must ask you certain questions here." "We cannot talk. There are men sleeping. , . . What questioner The afterthought was a weakness, and she flushed resentfully. “Many. . . . Where shall I begin?" He swung the chair between bls trim legs, preparatory to sitting on it. Ann looked miserably down the line of cots; the men were, obviously, waiting happily for the situation to develop. "You are right" she murmured. “here we will disturb my patients. . . . For just 4 moment—” She rose; and turned to the rear door. Avezxana had it open for her. although she bad pade haste, in order to avoid accepting even this small sendee. She stepped out on the platform. where the fierce wind tore at her great hollow skirts, and came near to upsetting her. She found herself clinging to the Italian, while the door slammed beMnd them, with a great clatter of glass. She met his intent eye*, and tried to pull herself away, bat could not. because her arm was held tn a close clasp. “Please!" she said feebly, all her defiance shattered by this unexpected , “In one moment,” Avewa replied, and he piloted her across the perilous open platform to the steps at the side.

"Sit here." he said ceremoniously., as he lowered her down carefully to the narrow swinging seat There the flying ground seemed very close; she could see each distinct pebble on the right-of-way. Her skirts filled all the space between the hand-rails, but | Avezxana made nothing of that; he swung himself past her. so that she held her breath lest he should {all; | then, unceremoniously pushing aside t her crinoline, he seated himself on the | step below her. Wedged into that tiny I place, she could not avoid looking Into i hla wide, smiling. black eyes. She bad I never .seen eyes just like them; be- ! neath their smile they were curiously unexpressive. as though they had no depths. With an effort, she looked I away, and remembered that she was offended. She frowned as she realized. I too late, that she had lost ground in | allowing him to bring her out from i the car. “You are angry?" “Os course I am angry!" Ann's direct gaze met his. firmly. “Because I do not speak to you. Is it n<«t so?” Ann said nothing, but she looked off over the unfenced fields with cold Indifference. “You do not | know why I am silent? No? It Is of !a. strangeness, your country ’ Here ! you are. young, unmarried —a lady." Wns there, Ann wondered, the least question li his voice? “You spend a night with me. alone. It is not to be helped, no, but surely it Is not to ' speak of. for I. too. am a gentleman!” “But what of it?" Ann burst out. “Why not talk about it? No one would think anything of It," she looked him I over magniflet'ntly. “with me." Avezzana sakl nothing for a bit; he i wns plainly staggered. Finally he announced firtuly, “I could not have recognized you. before those men, no. not if I died for IL ... I could not have spoke. , . . . You understand? you forgive?” Ann softened unwillingly. She still cherished a slight feeling of resentment, but she allowed a memory of his care of her to overlay It. “I suppose so." she said ungraciously, but she smiled at him. Avezzana smiled back, and all was welt “There are some things I must ask you." “About the feeding of my patientsF Ann laughed. “No.” he then said quite gravely. “About you." “Well, what about meF “Many things. . . . Why Were you there—at the battleF ] “We had word that my cousin, Hendricks Renneslyer, was dead and i then we heard be wasn't. 1 went to make sure." i “Your cousin?" Ann could feel herself flushing, but she managed to nod carelessly. Then Avezzana stiid something that surprised her. "1 have seen him since. He says you are fiancee.” I "We were—but we're not —now." “Then why risk all. in thia way? ■ i Surely, even in your country, it Is not , i the custom for a beautiful young girl L to—" He broke off, with a wide gesi ture. “You talk Just like my aunts,” she 1 commented. A pleased smile broke over the Italian’s face. “Ah. you have auntsF • There was plainly relief In his tone. ' “I mean—no mother? No fatherF “No. ... 1 have an uncle; he to I the nicest person in the world, but be 11 Is abroad. The President sent him to I t Europe.” > Avezzana seemed to be struggling i with extraordlnarv facts. “The PresaisaWW If ■ 1 1 <» /X W i B 1 IjmlC' 'lt ' HV 1 I *' A *fV‘ wk Ip. 1 i rV/p>3H/ ffr-y ! IrlzvMZlL/ 1 i/W 11 oi wi iwOFO - |\ if * ' e*' ’’ -You Undoratand? You ForflivaF [ ident," he murmured, as If that were the last touch to an amazing situai tion. “I am sorry he Isn't here. He would > thank you for me.” Ann said prettily. “You will tell hlmF -Yes." ’ “Extraordinaire 1 And yqur auntsF Ann flushed again. “No— not my aunts. They would be awfully cross . about IL" . Avenana's look of relief deepened' [ into deference. “Your aunts—l hope . to know them.* he murmured. . Ann became conscious of a slight feeling of restraint. “I must go," she r said uneasily. "To nurse?. . . . But why a . nurse—you. a young girl? That Is a > thing I cannot comprehend." ‘ “Plenty of people can't," she ast sured Mm comfortingly, and added superbly. “I nurse because I wish to. . . . . In a war. . . . Don’t your I Italian women do thatF “Women? Yes. But ladles, never." -Well. I am glad I don’t live there. , that*# all." ' * ' ■ y Avezzana leaned toward her eager-

ly. "Do not turn your mind against my < country," he pleaded. "Italia! How i she is beautiful!” “Perhaps when the war is over. 1 uncle will take me there.” “Where do you write to your uncle?" “In care of the American minister. Paris. Why?” Avezzana looked at her profoundly. “I’erhaps—for no reason," he said. Ann felt, uncomfortably, that there was more there than met the eye. “Now I really must go back." she said, -suppose some one should ’come In, and not find me?" This was, to Avezzana. potent reasoning. He rose at once. She got unsteadily to her feet, and allowed him to take her hand in his. He held it very tightly, but relinquished it the moment he had the door opened. On the threshold. Ann paused, swaying lightly to the motion of the train. “When you are In New York, will you come to see us?" she demanded. “I shall give myself that honor." “But you don’t know where we live.” "Your cousin—be has give me the place." "Oh! . . . Well, then, gootbby." She gave him her hand again impulsively. and vanished into the car. The next day Ann left the Sanitary commission women, and went on to New York. Mrs. Cortlandt was waiting for her in the ferry-house; she | received the prodigal without the I slightest indication of an inclination to sacrifice a fatted calf —or, indeed, anything, except the offender herself. k During all the years in which she had shocked her Ann had never known such weighty disapprobation. "Well, miss.” was all she said hi welcome. She ran a disapproving eye over the girl’s disgraceful frock. “You look u sight." she added grimly. “I know—my old black dress. . . . Isn’t it wonderful. Aunt Emily, about Hendricks—that he is alive and all right r “We knew that long before your message came. The very day after you left we had a telegram In answer to those we had been sending." Ann stood still in the passageway. "How ridiculous!" she murmured, and laughed. “I am glad you can laugh, miss. Don’t stand here; let us get home while we may.” Outside, the streets seemed to Ann to be strangely empty. "Where Is everybody F she asked Mrs. William. “Come, Ann. make haste! Don’t stand there like that! Don’t you see those* roughs over thereF "What of it? It can’t hurt me to have them look at me. « ... I atn sure I shouldn't think they, would want to. the way I look “ Mrs. Cortlandt btMko Into a hen-Ilke little run. and Ann hobbled after het on her aching feet. The carriage was waiting; the older woman bolted Imo It frantically, and turned t > pull Ann after her. "What in the world, Annt Fmtly?” Ann cried, half tumbling into the musty interior. Mrs. Cortlandt sank back on the cushions with a great sigh <,f relief. ‘Thank goodness," Mie gasped. "We’re safe!" “Safe? Why shouldn’t we be?" Ann glanced out of the window at the still deserted streets “Is there anything the matter?” she demanded. -Matter? I should say there was! Riots, at any moment. Negroes threatened with their lives • Every one I scared to death! Roughs from the riv- ' erfmnt swarming all over town t We . shall be fortunate if we reach home ! with our lives!" “But what has happeoedF I They have begun the draft for the • army. Ann. Yesterday they drew the ' first names from .the wheel. They never should have begun It on a Sat- ■ urday—all day Sunday to stir up mlsj chief, and no soldiers quartered here!" Ann sat silent, letting Mrs. Cortlandt run on. She rememt>ered that her guardian had thought the Draft act a bad one. because, for two hundred dollars, it allowed a rich man to buy his exemption from fighting, bat thaL she thought, would not have caused rioting. As they neared Washington square the streets were more normal, and she decided that the danger of riots was al! tn Mrs. Cortlandt's bead, after alt Os course It was al! nonsense, Ann thought, with a pitying smile for one so aged and panicky as competent, middle-aged Mrs. Cortlandt. That night, safe in her Incredibly comfortable room, and luxuriously clean and crisp tn her starched white muslin dressing sack, she wrote a letter to her guardian. It was long past midnight when she bad finished her confession, and she went to stand in the window for a moment, before she blew out her candle. She was exceedingly gi a< j to be at home; the pence and comfort of It was like a gentle caress; the pain and tragedy of Cettysburg seemed a long way off. . . . She wished that she could forget IL . . She turned ' to her bed. waiting, smooth and while, for her tired body. . . . Her last waking thoughts were of Avezzana—nothing definite, only an impression of him that made her smile as she drifted out to sleep. The following morning Ann slept late; the shadows in the square were already shortening toward midday, wlen she came downstairs, and she cast an impatient glance at the tall clock in the halt There was nobody In the lower rooms, and she summoned old Joseph with undeserved acerbity. “Where is everybodyF she inquired. “Mis’ Corritmdt and Mis* Fanny. Miss Ann. was ’bilged to go to dey

THE SYRACUSE JOURNAL

own house. . . . Mis' Cortlandt say fo’ you to stay Lrar unril she come back ag’in. You are on no count to go out.” “Hum.” Ann was Inclined to insub»re!natton. out rememh-rtng her recent escapades, she was prudent. Then you’ll have to take this letter to the post office, Joseph." Miss~Ann.’’~He wenfoff readily enough, but Ann had barely time to settle down to Charles Dickens' last / 4 Hi WK ■ pl’ 1 ’A fey “Don’t Be Silly, Joseph." enchanting installment before he burst Into the room again. Hf face a sickly lend color. He bold out Ann’s letter in a hand that shook. “I cayn’t go. Miss Ann.” “Can’t go? Why not pray?” In her Impatience she was suddenly imperious. "Downstairs. Miss Ann. honey, de, butcher’s boy says a fierce mob am roamin’ de streets, yes ms’atn. an’ huntin' all us cuilud folks down. . . . Miss Ann. he say dey’s set fire to the cnllud’ orphan ’sylum where yo’ tuk yo' clothes when yo’ firs’ cum here—” “At Forty-second street, you mean? Right on Fifth avenue? Nonsense!” “Yes, Miss Ann. . . . An’ all them po’ little cuilud chillen in It!" “Don’t be silly. Joseph. The police would never let that happen, right here in New York. I don’t believe a word of it !” “No, ma’am. ... I reckon I won’t go out today. Miss Ann. honey!" Ann made no move to take her letter; she had, when writing It, appreciated keenly that every word she put on the paper would pain her guardian, and now that It was done she wanted to be rid of it. She didn’t half believe what she had heard of the riots, and she thought it possible that the old man was trying to evade his walk in the heat. * “Os course you will take my letter,” site said crisply. “You must hurry. or it will miss the boat." “No, Miss Ann—no. It ain’t a right healthy day fo’ a cuilud person to be out!" Ann struggled to be calm and kind. “If It doesn’t pi at once it will miss the boat.” she explained with a care- i ful patience, and added more briskly. “I never heard anything so absurd in | my lite! Y’ou can walk up University ; place to Fourteenth street; it won’t take you ten minutes. Now hurry Joseph. do; you’ll be home all the sooner. The old man turned slowly, hesitated. and finally shuffled out. In a moment Ann saw him emerge cautiously Into the peaceful desertion of Washington square, and she smiled at his foolish panic. Suddenly she heard an ominous series of muffled crashes, ripped by sharper detonations. It shook her tranquillity, and she felt somewhat guilty, as she went out on the steps to listen. She began to be uneasy about old Joseph, although she felt J no alarm. In a few moment* Fanny Cortlandt came hurrying down the square. “I was fortunate to get back unmolested. Ann. they are murdering the negroes, and torturing them! Isn’t it horrible? They say one poor man— Why, Ann, where are you goingF Ann was flinging herself down the steps. She called back, “I sent Joseph out! I'm going after him!" Fanny sprung after her. and caught ‘ her by the arm. “Ann. Don’t think of such a thing! What could you do —a giriF Ann shook her off savagely. Tm going!" she declared. . “Like that? Without any hatF Ann laughed. "No.’’ she replied, “with yours!" She snatched Fanny's from her smooth bead, and ran clumsily down the square. She forgot all about her lame feet in her anxiety, fcr in the distance she caught a murmur of wild voices. As she neared the corner of University place, the confusion came louder; there was a thud of heavy feet, and a savage medley ot shouts. Above the noise she heard suddenly a raucous voice calling, “Burn the nigger! Burn him!" and the sound of pounding feet came louder. HI led with sickening premonition she flung herself around the corner and stood, horrorstruck. Running down the center of the street, straight toward her, Was old Joseph. Perhaps ten yards behind him there were twenty-five or thirty men and boys. In a scattering group. They could easily hare caught Mm; Ann could see that they were playing with him—savoring their enjoyment of his terror. A rage that blinded her to .everything el* caught the girl in its fierce grip: Me Md no sensation <3t fear as she sprang forward.

“Oh,” she cried, "stop! He’s an old man!” Joseph saw her. and making a last effort, he plunged toward her and fell, huddled In a shapeless heap, at her feet. She could hear the rasping gulps of his breath as he lay there. Tbere were vague shouts of “Kill th# nigger!" but salutations to the glri almost drowned them out: "Hello, my beauty! Let the nigger be strung up. but you come with us!” For an Instant Ann’s mere presence held them at bay, but the pressure behind was strong, and all at once the entire group burst on them, overwhelming them. The girl and the old negro were hustled roughly into the square. Ann. feeling for the first time strange and compelling hands upon her, struck out with a primitive fury. The men about her fell back laughing. “Let him go.” she cried, taking advantage of the momentary lulL “Let me have him." A burst of laughter greeted bls plea. A man shouted. “Give us a kiss, my dear.” Then the demand to “Kill the nigger!” arose again, more fiercely. Under the confusion of her fright, Ann began to plan, and she steadily pressed back down the square toward Fifth avenue and the haven of her guardian's house. She dragged Joseph bodily, her compelling hand on his arm. “Let the girt have him." a voice arose unexpectedly, and the crowd stilled to hear. "Who Is he. miss?” “Why. he Is Just our butler." Her young voice floated out clearly, every one heard. A great roar of laughter greeted her announcement. “D —n the rich!" some one called out. "They don’t have to he drafted. They pay their dirty money for us to go and be killed.” Her champhm dropped ouL as suddenly as he had intervened. “Let’s take the girl, too." A roughlooking youth*Ann had Identified as ■ the leader caught her by the wrist, and pulled her toward him. grinning. She leaped back, ducked under his outstretched arm. and wrenched herself free. The men about her fell back, laughing and half good-natured, waiting to watch her fight. She thought that she might take advantage of this, and she tried to shake old Joseph Into some vitality, so that they might attempt a dash to safety, but he was too terrified to understand. She could only drag him after her, hopelessly, so she began to plead with the men nearest them; breathless and desperate, she begged them to have mercy. Here and there Ann caught a sympathetic look on a man’s face and felt that- she was making some headway. They were nearing her guardian’s house when the leader of the mob thrust his flushed face almost against her own; without further preliminary he flung his arm about her and said briefly. “You’re coming with me.” Ann pushed him off feebly; her heart was beatlngt siekeningly. and she had almost stopped struggling, when all at once she was conscious of a new element In the crowd. There was confusion on its edge; some one was hitting out wildly.. In a moment she could see that a man wsj pushing toward her! his fierce attack had opened a wide (lane in the tight-pressed group and almost before she realized that he was ; there, he was at her side; he was white ami breathless, but she had a heartening realization of his courage. i "Is there a decent man in this gangF he shouted. “Stand by me. boys!" Two or three shamefaced volunteers pushed their w»y to his side. “That’s the ticket!” He turned to Ann. “Let the nigger go," he said briefly. She looked a< him with wide and desperate eyes. “I won’t." she said. “That is my House, just there. Can’t we make itF He cast a brief glance at the distance. “Run for it." he ordered, as with a savage kick he helped the limp negro to regain his agility. Ann thrust her arm through the old man’s. Her courage and her strength I came flooding back to her with the ; opportunity to escape. Joseph rolled ! desperate eyes around him. and then, seeing that he was so near home and ; safety, he tore himself from her grasp and ran. The basement door was open, with Fanny’s frightened face behind. It and the fugitives fell into the house, safe. The rioter* flung themselves against the stout oak door as the bolt . shot Into place. Ann ran tumultously j up the basement steps. “Where are you goingF Fanny called after her, terrified. Ann pause*! for an instant Ton ! stand by the door," she directed. That man out there—he saved my life!— Let him In when he comes.” And without waiting for an answer she hurried on. lame, breathless, and often stumbling, up the long, cruelly steep stairs to her uncle's room. There, in the drawer of the table by Mr. Cortlandt’s bed, she found what she wanted. It was a revolver, blue black and heavy In her hand. She was breathing so hard that she had to wait for just an instant before she opened the window In the balcony overhanging the square. For a moment she could not see her protector, and cold terror gripped her until the discovered him, where the knot of men was thickest The attack on the door had been abandoned for the more exciting event of mauling the girl’s champion. Ann had never fired a revolver, and her hands were trembling so that even when she used both, the long muzzle swept the crowd in wide curves. “If I shoot straight I shall probably kill him." »he reflected grimly, as she pulled very hard indeed, and managed to fire. The revolver kicked, and the charge went Mgh over the heads of the rioters; the report had an instantly calming effect There was a general tendency to fall back, and every (

face turned toward her as she stood, ; armed, in her balcony. Her unknown j champion took advantage of the lull to shake off his assailants, and to push toward the house. Stones began to fall about her; she dodged a particularly vicious one and heard ib.e window behind her crash into bits. The crowd was recovering from its panic, and she peered over the balcony to see what was happening to her protector. He was just below her, engaging two or three of the roughs at ouce. but obviously losing ground, so she fired again, deliberately, directly down into the crowd. No one seemed to be hurt, but she could not be sure, so she leaned over the rail to look. In her agitation she dropped her pistol and it crashed heavily into the upturned face of the young leader of the rioters; he went down without a sound, and his followers drew back. Ann saw the stranger leap for the basement door and heard it slam behind, him. A shower of stones fell about her and she was conscious of a sharp pain in her hand as she ducked down hastily and went back through the window into the house, where the terrified servants were closing shutters behind the shattered windows. It was fortunate for the fugitives that this was the first day of mob fighting; when confronted with the actual demolishing of property, the leaders hung back, and a more peaceably inclined man on the outskirts urged that the house belonged to Hendricks Cortlandt. “him who built the Old Folk’s home." The leader staggered up unsteadily; Mr. Cortland't revolver lay at his feet. He looked at it covetously and then picked it up; it was not a bad prize to have won. "Well,” he said, "even the rich alnt all alike. We’ll let this nigger go. and get us another one somewhere else.” The women, palpitating at a crack In the shutters, could scarcely believe their eyes when they saw the crowd move off. They had all expected the worst. In the meantime Ann’s champion lay where tye had fallen when he had staggered into the house. From one blue trousers leg a bright red stain was slowly spreading, wet and ominous. When Ann came down the stairs and saw him. she gasped sharply and the co ,o f went out of her Bps. “Did I shoot hlmF she asked, agonized. The man managed to lift his head. “Don’t you fret." he murmured. “It’s an old wound. Fm just out of hospital.” Then he dropped again, and lay, limp and white, on the basement floor. Ann cut away his bloodsoaked trousers legs. She found that the bleeding came from a gash above the knee, **4"! T 1 I ! ■ I Stones Began to Fall About Her. which was only half healed, and han obviously, reopened; it was a comparatively simple matter for her to stop the bleeding, and to dress the wound with towels torn into strips. Then she routed old Joseph from the cellar, where, on regaining his safety, he had taken refuge, and the old man and the women managed to carry the limp body of Ann’s rescuer upstairs to the guest room. When Ann bent over him she found something hauntingly familiar in his lean face, bearded only sparsely, and well below the high cheek-bones; she thought that she might have seen Mm in a hospital somewhere. She gave him a tablespoonful of whisky and In a moment he opened his eyes and looked at her. He smiled and his Ups parted. She bent to hear, impersonally, as she had so often done in the hospitals. “Annie Byrne,” the young man murmured, pleased. And then. “Kiss pie again, Annie, do!” “How strange that it should have been you who saved me, Peter I* (TO BE CONTINUED.) In the Grass Family, 10,000 Species. There are ten thousand species of grasses, of wMch are native to the United States. Members of the grass family are distributed throughout all the zones of the earth, and vary in size from a few inches in height to veritable forest trees towerg sixty feet and more. Dad's Calculations. Father*—No, young man, you are too young to marry my daughter. . . . You are scarcely twenty and she is twenty-eight . , . . Walt-ten years. You will then be thirty—and she will certainly be the sama.

MOTHER OF UROE EHMILY, Recommends Lydia E. Pink- y ham’s 1 Vegetable Compound toOther Mother* ; • k Windom, Minn.—* 4 ! was so run-down that I wasjust good for nothing. I was to

become the mother of my ninth child,and I thought 1 did hot have the strength to go through with it. 1 took Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound, and it has surely done all I could ask it to do and I am telling all my friends about I have a nice ingbab" girl and am feelinf;

Ww.: ' n

fine. You may use this, letter to help other sick mothers.” — Mrs. C. A. Moede, Box 634, Windom, Minn. My First Child Glen Allen, Alabama.—“l have been greatly benefited by taking Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound for bearing-down feelings and pains. I was troubled in this way for nearly four years following the birth of my first child, and at times could hardly stand on my feet. A neighbor recommended the Vegetable Compound .to me after I had taken doctor’s medicines without much benefit It has relieved my paind and gives me strength. I recommend it and give you permission to use my testimonial letter.”—Mrs. Id A Ryu Glen Allen, Alabama. ShiyWJßiii KEEPING WELL An N? Tablet (• vegetable aperient) taken nt Olgbt will help keep you well, by toning and strengthening year diSQ<l * Btorf /orowar 45 * B<at •H»e Old Block • |R JUNlOß*—Uttla N?« . One-tMrd the regular dose. Made cf the same ingrediepta, then candy coated For children and adult*. *Y YOUR DRUOQIST—JI Had Time to Qualify. Employer—Aren’t you the boy who applied for this position a fortnight ago? Boy—Yes, sir. Employer —And didn’t 1 say I wanted an older boy? Boy—Yes, sir; that’s why I am here now.—London Answers. Snowy linens are the pride of every housewife. Keep them in that condition by using Red Cross Ball Blue in your laundry. At all grocers.—Adven tisemenL Every time a large man shrink* from his duty a small man rises to »he occasion. There Is at least one redeeming feature about air castles; we don’t have to pay taxes on them, '; : DANGER IN COLDS If Neglected, They Will Often Develop Serious Illness Take Father John's Medic ins There is lurking danger in every cold because. If neglected, it may attack the breathing tract. Prompt action should be taken when a cold develops. Begin taking Father Medicine right away. This old-fashioned

family medl- ( cine, whose ba- i sis Is cod liver oil scientifically ■ prepared with : other IngredJ- j enta, soothes and,) heals the breathing tract and at . the same time i builds fighting i i strength to fight I off the cold. Father Jo h n’s | Medicine is j guaranteed free from a nerve | deadening drugs | and stimulants.

No Soap Better For Your SkinThan Cuticura SaapZSc, OiatwwtZSaudSSc.TakwaZSc. Her* is quick relief foe the commonest ailment V i “flesh is heir to.” Easy To Take slice one in the mouth, take a sw allow of water. Beneficial results follow promptly. Jaques* Capsules relieve stomach trouble, heart* burn, gas and constipation. Taken * regularly after meals they help Obsth>atecases.and prevent indigestion. Economical and convenient. At afl druggists or 60 cents by mail postpaid from Jaques Capsule HstttbwK* N* Y ' HAIR BALSAM RMKWliwmir-StwiasnMua Restore* Color •Ml ° HINDERCORNS o** cm. iatua. Ma, above all pela. enaaraa eoaMari so tha tee*; eMM wxlkinr eaaj. 1S«. by aaaii«eJkprac* CialaußteaoaChemical Warta, Fifeli.wi. M.S.,