The Syracuse and Lake Wawasee Journal, Volume 14, Number 44, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 2 March 1922 — Page 2

THE GIRL, A HORSE AND A DOG - By FRANCIS LYNDE • Copyright by Charles Scribner’s Sone

CHAPTER XlV.—Continued. It was a little after noon, while we were squatting on the floor to eat another meal warmed up over the chip tire, that we found out the answer to all the guesses and learned what the mechanical noises of the night and forenoon had been leading up to. One of the left-overs from the working period of the mine was a good-sized steam force pump which, we took it, had once been installed on one of the lower mine levels and had been hoisted out of the shaft ahead of the advancing water flood and put under shelter in a corner of the boiler shed. As I was passing my tin cup for more of Daddy’s excellent coffee the rattle and clank of a pump began to make itself heard, together with the coughing chug-chug of the steam exhaust therefrom. “That’s that low-level pump!’ I exclaimed. “They must have connected It up with i the boil —” Whoosh! that was just as tar as 1 got. In tjhe middle midst of the Word “boilers” a two-inch jet of muddy water came curving up through one of the winddw openings to arch over and fall, splash, all ’over us as we sat munching our dinner. Everlastingly ruined the dinner, put out the tire, upset the coffee pot, and made drowned rats of both of us in less time than ft takes to. tgU .it —much less. So much for that. Os course, we ran and ducked and dodged, like the drowned, rats 1 speak of hunting for a hole. But now Bullerton’s devilish engineering ingenuity came into play. By some means as yet unknown to us, he had contrived a movable nozzle to his squirt-gun, and in another minute there wasn't a single dry spot, left in that shafthouse. 1 venture to say that Daddy and I and the dog ran a full mile trying to get out of range of that demoniacal sozzle-machine, but there wasn’t a corner of the place that it couldn’t, and didn't, reach. ■ During the night the scoundrels had laid a pipe line from the pump in the boiler sheet., alongside of our prison fortress; this with an upright extension on the business end of it. At the top of the sandpipe stem there was an elbow with a short joint of ■ pipe screwed into it to point our way; and on the end*of this nozzle there was a piece of rubber hose. Under the jerky impulses of the pump sjtrokes this flexible extension of the; nozzle flopped up and down and around and sidewise, like the nose of a patent lawn sprinkler; and there you are—or there we were. “Gosh-to-Solomon!” Daddy spluttered, “we ain’t on the water wagon—we’re spank inside of it! Are you rememberin’, Stannie, that they can keep this gosh-dum thing up f’rever? All in the world they’ve got to do is to put a stick o’ wood on the fire now and then! Say, son; they got us goin’ and cornin’; we can’t eat, and we can’t sleep no more whatever!” “By heavens, I own those boilers, and if I could get a stick of dynamite under ’etfi, I’d fix the fellow that’s firing ’em !*>' I< shivered; and then the bright idea was born. “Say, Daddy, we can stop It!” I. yelled; and Just then the water devil outside made another fiendish flop and got me squarely in the face. . But it didn’t drown the bright Idea. CHAPTER XV. i " High Explosives. -The idelt was one which ought to ligve suggested itself much sooner. The steam supply pipe for driving the big centrifugals at the shaft-mouth came through the wall over our heads,

mg|H

In Another Minute There Wasn’t a Single Dry Spot in the ShaftHouse. and it «'a» the sight of this pipe, steaming even, on the outside of Its thick insulating jacket of asbestos under the wetting from the water jet, that had -set me thinking. A spinning' twirl of the engine throttle valve set our machinery In motion, and when I had thrown the pump clutdh fn, we crouched again In the ) east-wet. corner to watch the index of the tell-tale steamgauge connected Into the supply pipe. We knew that the- centrifugals were voracious steaiq.-eaterswe had .proved that when we were running them In the week-long test. I had a ‘ notion that maybe Bullerton had fired only W thrqp boilers to

run his shower-bath machine,. and the result speedily confirmed this assumption. In a few minutes the steam pressure had dropped to a point at which It would no longer drive any of the pumps, either ours or the one outside, and the window cataract stopped. "This will be only a breathing space,” I prophesied, getting up to squeeze some of the superfluous water out of my clothes. “Bullerton will do one of two things: fire the other two boilers, or disconnect this steam pipe of ours.” “Reckon so?” said Daddy. “You’ll see in a minute or so.” The attack began even while we were speaking, sundry hammerings nnd twistings that shook the pipe overhead proving that the besiegers were going to stop the leak by cutting us off from.the boilers. “Take your whirl at the inventions, this time. Daddy!” I urged. “When they get this supply pipe cut out, we’ll be In for another ducking—and one that we can’t stop.” Daddy was shaking his head and wringing the moisture —and mud —out of his beard. “Jerusalem-to-gosh, Stannie, we got to take a chance!” he muttered. “Anyways, I’d about as lief die as be drowned to death. We’ll have to muss that blacksmith shop up and get it out o’ the way, somehow. Gimme a match out o’ that tin box o’ your’n—if they ain’t- all soaked to a jiz-whizzlin’ sop.” I found the matches, which, luckily, were still dry, and handed him one. Before I fairly realized what he was going to do, he had taken one of the dynamite cartridges out of its bucket hiding place and was splitting the fuse with his pocketknife. “Open that there door into the shop,” lie commanded; and when I obeyed mechanically, out went the bomb, fizzing and sputtering, to land in a heap of scrap iron piled on the farther side of the stone-built forge. The sight of it smoking and spitting sparks in the heap of scrap half hypnotized me, I guess, for I stood gaping at it, with the door held open, until Daddy Hiram jerked me away, slammed the door and yelled to me to help him bar it. We had barely time to get the door closed and fastened with the heavy wooden bar and to throw ourselves flat on the floor behind the hoisting machinery before the crash came. As I have previously said,’ the blacksmith shop was a rather flimsy, shed-like affair, roofed with corrugated iron, and it seemed to us as if broken timbers and pieces of sheet metal were raining down for a full minute after the blast went off. . , i The shock to everything in the vicinity was, of course, tremendous and the stout old shaft-house Itself rocked and swayed like a tree in a hurricane. But the walls still stood intact, ahd when we got up and peeped through a hole which a piece of the flying scrap had torn in the door, we could see what we had done. It was a-plen-ty. The blacksmith shop had disappeared. leaving nothing but a scattering of wreckage. The heavy anvil had been thrown from its block and the forge looked as if a giant had kicked it, Out by the boiler-shed a rack of cordwood had been toppled over and under it a man was struggling to free himself. When he saw the imprisoned enemy that mfid-mannered, soft-spoken old soldier that I was shut up wl& would have opehed tKe door and shot the struggler if I hadn’t stopped him. This blowing up of the shop settled the shower-bath business for us definitely. With the impediment out of the way we had a clear view on tills third side; could command the row of miners’ cabins, as well as the boilers in their open shed. ' When I got through persuading Daddy Hiram that we couldn’t afford to murder the wounded, the fellow who had been rest ling with the woodpile had paade his exit and there was nobody In sight. Shortly afterward a bullet, fired from somewhere in the forest background, whanged upon our roof, and there were several to follow; but aside from punching a few more holes in the iron they did no harm. “Looks like the ‘Hercules’ is the one thing they’re most skeered of,” said Daddy, with his queer little stuttering chuckle. “Now maybe they’ll leave us have time to get ourselves dried out a mite..* Totting up the results of the showerbath we’d had, a bread famine promised to be the worst of them. The few cans of beans, tomatoes and peaches —the campers’ standbys—were unhurt, of course, and the muddied bacon could be washed with water drawn from the flooded shaft. But the flour in its sack was merely a blob of paste and was beyond redemption and the cornmeal was the same. In view of the results la wondered if Bullerton hadn’t shrewdly calculated upon washing our commissary out of existence when he planned his overgrown lawnsprinkler. But maybe that was giving him credit for more ingenuity than he really had. Through what remained of the afternoon the rifle firing continued, coming sometimes from one angle and sometimes from another, but always nily from a safe distance and always under cover of the surrounding forest. Daddy Hiram, grtyfly optimistic, extracted a swallow or so of encouragement oiit of the persistent pot-shoot-ing. “Dunno as you’ve ever noticed it, Stannie, but if you’ll only let a hog alone long enough he’ll shove himself under the bob-wire fence far enough to get caught," he said. “Charley Bullerton’, now ? he’s plum* forgot that ’Tropin’s less ’n five miles away and that sound carries mighty long distances tn these mountains in clear weather/* , 4

“What difference does that make?” I asked. “It may make a heap o’ difference. Looks to me like somebody—Buddy Fuller, ’r Jim Haggerty, the section l>oss, *r some of ’em down yonder ’d begin a-wonderin’, after a spell, what in tarnation all this here blastin’ and rlfle-poppln’ up on old Cinnabar is a p’intin’ at and come and see.” “Do you think the racket will carry that far?” “It sure will. Ohe night afore ’Tropla had gone as dead as she is now, a bunch o’ cowpunch’s got into an argyment at Blue-nose Bill’s place and we heard the crackin’ and poppin’ up here —Jeanie and me—-like It was just over yonder in Greaser gulch.” “Well?" said I, “if your nephew or any of the others hear it. what then?” As I asked the question one of the low-aimed shots tore through the side of the building, struck the iron frame of the hoist, flattened itself and dropped into the old man’s lap. Picking up the hot bit of lead to dandle it from hand to hand he went on much as if picking up bullets that were fired at him had been his daily recreation. “Curiosity killed the cat, Stanine, son. You let some one o’ the folks down yonder in ’Tropia say, ‘By gol— I wonder what all that shootin’s for?’ and the next thing you know, somebody’ll be moggin’ up here to find out.” Along about dusk some member of the besieging party tried to make a reconnaissance. I happened to be keeping the lookout on the cabin side of our fortress and saw a man dodging among the pines back of the house. When I reported to Daddy he took a snap shot at the place I pointed out to him and there was a wild yell and a stir in the young pines as though a hog were galloping through them. “Just to let ’em know that we’re still alive and kickin’,” said the old man, another of his quavery chuckles. “I reckon maybe that’s what they was aimin’ to find out.” Possibly it was. At all events, the rifle fire stopped with the coming of darkness, and as we faced our second night of defense we had plenty of time to sit around and think and speculate upon what the outcome was going to be. Taking it all in all, it was the fantastic humor of the thing that hit me hardest. Six short weeks earlier people at home had been calling me all the hard names that fall to the lot of the idle ne’er-do-well; a young chap with enough inheritance money to keep him in ties and shoes and shirts and to buy gas for his car—though that last asked for a good on the rising cost of gasoline—and pot enough to make life, or anything connected therewith, very much worth (while. Also these same people were saying —behind my back, of course, but there were always plenty of them to repeat the saying to my sac I was good stock gone to seed, would never amount to a hill of beans In anything that asked for initiative or resourcefulness, or primitive rough stuff of any sort; that I was due to go on dolling myself up and playing skittles to the end of the chapter—which would probalby stage itself in an asylum for the feeble-minded. Also, again, at that same time, which was six weeks —or six thousanjd years—ago, I was engaged to Lisette; with mighty little prospect of marrying her, to be sure, bfit no thought of marrying anybody else. And now . . .1 looked around at the shadowy walls of the grim old Cinnabar shaft-house, looming darkly and still dripping, tick, tack, from. their early-afternoon mud bath; felt my sog-

NO QUESTION ABOUT HER LOVE

Dally Routine of Married Woman, Described by Herself, Surely Sufficient to Prove It. Here is a sample of why one woman is too busy to be unhappily married, as she writes it herself: “At 7:30 o’clock breakfast is on the table. Dad is ready, but where is the school girl? ‘Dad, you go on and eat; I have to get that child ready for school.’ She is standing on one foot, holding her stocking in her hand. “ ‘Mother, if we caught a bluebird — could we catch a bluebird, mother?’ ‘“Yes, dear; now lace up your shoe while I brush your hair.’ ’“We could give it to Dorothea; she has a cage.’ ‘“Honey, hurry up. You will be late.’ “ ‘Well, I want to catch a bluebird.* “‘Now, darling, brush your teeth while I fry daddy’s eggs.’ “‘Did you brush your teeth?’ “ ‘Do I have to?’ “ ‘Of course. Do you want to be ugly?’ “ ‘Won’t I get to go to partles if I am ugly?’ •“No; but for goodness sake come to breakfast,’ “ ‘Mother,’ dad cries, ‘come and eat with me.’ “ ‘I simply can’t, dad. See that this child gets something inside her, will you? I have to dress little sister. She’s up now.’. “After dad and the school girl go, sister is made ready for breakfast. Mother puts the fe»on on to heat. Sia» ter will not eat her cereal, and mother has to feed her. The iron gets too hot. While It Is cooling mother puts the vacuum cleaner to work on the living room. She makes the beds. She cleans the house. She irons until 11.80. She hurries to get lunch. She rushes to finish a pair of bloomers. She makes buttonholes while the oven heatm -She makes a pie while ’ ■ ■ • «

SYRACUSE AND LAKE WAWASEE JOURNAL

gy clothes; stared aeresq at Daddy Hiram sitting backed up against the hoist with his legs jackknifed and his hands locked over his knees; it was a grotesque pipe-dream; there was no other name for it. I broke out in a laugh that was a bellow. “Split it up, Stannie,” urged the old man dryly. “I allow you ain’t goin’ to be close-fisted enough to keep a good joke all to yourself In no-such a hoedown as this.” “I’ll try,” I said, and did'it the best I knew how; giving him some idea of the life I had lived and its earthwide, abysmal difference from the experience of the past six weeks. Silence for a time and 'then: “Book-learnin’ and good clothes and eatln’ with a flirt fork ,’r’ all right. Stannie, but they don’Umtfke the man n’r the woman; there’s got,to be somethin’ inside; somethin’ a heap bigger than them things.” “Quite so," I admitted. Another silence and at the end of it the old philosopher again: “You been sort o’ sore about my Jeanie, since yesterday . . . She’s been eatin’ your gran-paw’s bread, like me, and you thought, and I thought,

Iww? I ■<» lb. Ho I '1 aWI

IjStared Across at Daddy Hiram. that she might at least ’ve waited a little spell afore she run off with Charley Butlerton. Maypt* we’ve been jumpin’ at things too sudden. Stannie. What made her ride ’way up yonder to Greaser sidin’ to catch that train? And how come Charley Bullerton to marry her one day and be up here with his bunch o’ gunmen by daybreak the nex’ mornin’?” “Has Jeannie friends in Angels with whom she could lie staying?” I asked. “Not a single soul. He’d a-had to leave her at the Chink’s hotel; and that ain’t no place for a woman, married ’r t’otherwise.” “But supposing they didn’t go to Angels?” “There ain’t no other place they could go and let him get back, as you might say, in the same day.” “Say It allj Daddy,” I prompted. "There ain’t much' to say, Stannie. boy, ’ceptln’ what I said afore, that mayb? we’d been jumpin’ at things sort o’ blind-lfte. Jeannie’s got a hea*p o’ sense—if I do say it as shouldn’t—and the whole gee-ripittin’ thing, as we been puttin’ it up, ain’t no more like her than winter’s like dog-days.”

• sister practices on the piano. gets dinner. She watches small sister playing. She shoos home a whooping coughing child and rescues i the piano from an apple core. She , never wonders If her husband loves her. She is too busy. She loves > him or she would never, never, never > mend his sox.” r Unwritten Law of Hospitality. , No less binding than the Hippocratic path, taken by physicians on en- - tering their profession, promising never to divulge any secrets obtained ( through their practice as physicians. Is the great unwritten law of hospij tallty that makes it obligatory on the host or hostess or members of the j host’s household, to respect the personality of all those who tarry within , their gates. Recounting peculiarl- ( ties or petty faults of our neighbors and acquaintances is at best a mean way of diverting ourselves and our friends —though it Is something that ( we all do at some time or other—but when the persons about whom we gossip are our guests, or the information we have about them was derived when they were our visitors, our conduct is beneath contempt. t Dances Borrowed From Birds. Like the art of song, that of the > dance is employed by many birds prll marily in the courtship of the female. . The biggest bird of all —the ostrich—is a most Indefatigable dancer, par- , tlcularly enjoying the waltz. The , moor cock is another dancing bird, i from which the peasants of upper, r Bavaria have borrowed their famous > “flat shoe dance,” or clog dance. i — r » Head Work. j Mrs. Woodpecker—Come get pn the 1 job! You’ve got a lot of drilling and i excavating to do on our new home. Her Mate—Have a heart 1 * Think I » can work with this headache I’ve got i ( thU morning?

Having run the subject into a corner we were both speechless for a little time and I think it was almost with a sense of relief that we sprang alert whsn the dog, hitherto sleeping quietly at our feet, jumped up and ran to hold his nose at the threshold of the door opening upon the dump head. CHAPTER XVI Burnt Matches. Following the dog to the door, we could neither see nor hear anything going on outside, though Barney’s sniffings under the door and his low growl warned us that something was afoot, either on the dump head or in the partly wrecked cabin beyond. While we were still peeping and peering, each at his auger-hole and each ready to take an offhand shot at anything that seemed suspicious, the silence of the mountain night was ripped and torn by the most hideous clamor imaginable, arising,, apparently, in the cabin or perhaps from the graving of trees just behind it. The racket was deafening; comparable to nothing that I’d ever heard magnified orchestration, so to speiST of the pandemonium made by a crowd of country boys serenading a newly married pair with tin pans and such-like noise-making implements. < “What in the- name o’ Joab!” stuttered Daddy Hiram. “Reckon them : gosh-dummed pirateers’ve gone plum’ loony?” “Wait," I qualified, and I had to shout to make myself heard. “There’ll be more to follow. This is only the curtain-raiser/’ But my guess appeared to be no good. For quite some little time we !crouched, guns at the ready, prepared to repel the assault which we naturally supposed would be made Under cover of the distracting racket. But there was no assault, though the meaningless clamor kept up without abatement. By the time we were beginning to grow a trifle hardened to it the clamor stopped as abruptly as it had begun and the silence which succeeded was even more deafening than the noise had been. While I fancied I could see dim figures stealing down the road that led to the bench below, I heard Daddy say: “Now, what in the name o’ Jehoiachlm —” He had turned away from his peephole and I could sense, rather than see, that he was rubbing his eyes. Then I realized that upon me, also, a sudden blindness had fallen; the interior of the shafthouse had become as dark as the inside of a pocket. The effect was so stupefying that it took both of us a minute or so to understand that some change as yet undefinable had been wrought either in us or in our surroundings during the noisy interlude. “Great Jehu!” exclaimed the old man—though he was within arm’sreach I could make him out only as a dim shadow —“Great Jehu ! I—l b’lieve I’m goin’ blind, Stannie! I—l can’t see nothin’ a-tall!” “Don’t worry,” I hastened to say; “I’m in the same boat. We’ve been looking too long and steadily through those auger-holes. It’U pass in a minute.” But it didn’t pass and presently the voice of my old side partner came again out of the darkness. “P’raps it’s cloudin’ up some," he suggested in a half-whisper. “I can’t see no stars through them windows.” At this I looked toward the Window openings, but the interior blackness had blotted them out completely. Almost instinctively I turned back to the door and put an eye to a loophole. One glance was enough. The trouble, whatever it might be, was with usand not with the sky. The stars were shining as brightly as ever. “Don’t move, Daddy,” I cautioned, and then groped my way along the wall and climbed to the top of our earth-sack breastwork at a point which I guessed to be under the nearest of the two Windows. When I drew myself up and tried to thrust a hand through the opening the mysterious darkness was explained. The window embrasures were stopped up, both of them, on the outside by something that felt like a heavy canvas curtain, though how the curtain was held in place I could not determine. But it was finely braced in some way. With all the purchase I could get—which wasn’t much —I couldn’t dislodge it or push it aside. Making my way back to the door I told Daddy what I had found. “Huh!” he said; “that old tarpaulin that was out yonder in the ore shed. How d’ye reckon they got it there, Stannie?” “It’s hoisted on a framework of some kind, and they did it while we were rubbering and trying to find out what all that noise was about." We were not kept very long in doubt as to what the next enemy move was to be. With the cessation of the tomtom clatter the collie had grown curiously jestless. We couldn’t see him, but we could hear Aim running from post to pillar, sniffing at the cracks and occasionally giving a whining growl. Presently he began to cough and sneeze; then he came racing back to us, flattening himself to hold his nose, to the crack under the door and taking long breaths as if he were half stifled. I stooped to pat him and immediately imagined I was smelling burning sulphur matches. “Get down here, Daddy, and smell this dog!” I whispered. "Is it oldfashioned matches, or what?” One sniff -was all that the old man needed. * eGosh-to-gee-whlx—brimstone!” he choked;-"them devils are smokin’ us out! That’s why they stepped up them window holes; so we couldn’t get any air!” ' . ■ ' . *

There appeared to be little enough time for any defensive move. The asphyxiating gas was coming stronger every moment. and any search for Its source seemed utterly hopeless. Yet we went at it, coughing and choking, and stumbling over everything in the darkness, as a matter of course. After all it was Barney who (I honor him with the human pronoun because he certainly deserved it) it was Barney who showed, us the devil’s doorway. The red glow was now sending enough light through cracks and crevices nnd the bullet rippings overhead to make our inner darkness a degree or so less than Stygian. Missing the dog for a moment at our common breathing hole, we saw him circling a particular spot in the floor and snarling at it as if it were something alive. At that we both ■ remembered that the shafthouse floor was raised a foot or so from the rocky ledge on the down-mountain side, and that the space underneath was partly open. Daddy pointed to the circling dog. “Barney's got it!” he panted. “They’ve run their chimney up under the floor!” Then: “Where in Sam Hill did you leave that ax?” The ax- was near at hand and I ran for it. Holding my breath I bfegan to chop madly at the floor planking. By this time the air was so bad that it was impossible to breathe it. and after a few blows I had to drop the ax and run to the breathing gap. Daddy took his cue instantly, snatching up the ax as I flung it down and hacking, aw%y as long as he could hold his breath. When .he was forced to make a bolt for the life-saving hole in the door, I ran in again; thus got a couple of the floor planks loose and pried them out. In the space beneath the opencracked floor we found Bullerton’s chimney end; an old discarded boiler flue, it seemed to be, leading up from the bench below. From unearthing the deadly .thing to muzzling it with one of our wet blankets was the breathless work of only a minute or two; and with the <as-main thus shut off, the air in the shafthouse soon became bearable again, the hole we had chopped through the floor serving as a ventilator through which the cool, crisp night air came rushing in a revivifying blast. Our first care, after a prolonged silence led us to believe that the raiders had withdrawn to study up some fresh scheme for getting rid of us, was to get a bar and pry our two doors open so that the breeze might blow through and air the place out a bit. Closing and barring the doors after the sulphur stench had been reduced to a mere match-box odor, we established our night-watch. Daddy Hiram taking the first trick under a solemn promise to call me at tlie end of a couple of hours. This time he behaved better, rousing me a little before midnight. He reported everything quiet, and pointed to the. sleeping dog as evidence that there* were no intruders within smelling distance. “Been that-away ever since you turned In," he said, meaning, as I took it, that the dog had been resting easy,

//J dßkwl t Wii Daddy Took His Cue Instantly.

"You can just keep an eye on Barney. If anything goes to stfrrin’, he’ll know it afore you will.” Nothing did stir? and after Daddy had gone to wrap himself In his«damp blankets, I had my work cut out for me keeping awake; in fact, I shouldn't want to swear that 1 was fully awake during all of the one hundred and twenty minutes that my sentry-go lasted. No matter about that. Bullerton didn’t spring „any more surprises on us during my watch; and when I turned the fortress over to Daddy at two o’clock I was able to paSs the “all quiet” report back to him and go to the blankets with an easy conscience. I had just dropped asleep, as it seemed to me —though In reality I had slept like a log for more than two bouts—when Daddy Hiram came to shake me awake. "Somethin’ doin’,” he announced quietly, and when I sat up I saw that the collie was moving uneasily from one door to the other, stopping now t.nd then to stand motionless with his ears cocked and his head 'on one side: “Barney hears something,’’ I ventured; and a moment later. Daddy broke in : “Huh! it’s plain enough sot my old ears, now; lt*s a wagon comln* across the bench.” . . (TO BK CONTINUED.) .■’•••• .. .x- ‘ f t .

ML WhfMfeaiEr

FIFTY YEARS AGO A young man who practiced medicine in Pennsylvania became famous and was called in consultation in many towns and cities because of his success in the treatment of disease. This was Dr. Pierce, who finally made up his mind to place some of his medicines before the public, and moving to Buffalo, N. Y., put up what he called his “Favorite Prescription,” and placed it with the druggists in every state. Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription has long been recognized as a tonic for diseases peculiar to womankind. After suffering pain, feeling nervous, dizzy, weak and dragged-down by weaknesses of her sex- —a woman is quickly restored to health- by its use. Thousands of women testify that Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription has entirely eradicated their distressing ailments. More recently that wonderful discovery of Dr. Pierce’s, called An-uric (for kidneys and backache), has been successfully used by many thousands who write Dr. Pierce of the benefits received—that their backache, rheumatism. and other symptoms of uric acid deposits in joints or muscles have been completely conquered by its use. Send 10c to Dr. Pierce, Buffalo. N. Y., Jor trial pkg. of any of his remedies, or write for free medical advice. According to Her Cookbook. Mrs. Youngbride—Mercy! That pie is burning and I can’t take it out for ten minutes yet!

THE MAN WHO LOOKS VIGOROUS

Good red blood is the only sure foundation of Permanent Health and Vigor. Good color, bright eyes, solid flesh, erect bearing are dependent upon rich red blood. If your blood is not up to the mark your general health can not be. Late hours, eating the wrong foods, working indoors, fatigue, affect the blood. So many people eat well and take exercise, yet never seem to improve In health. Gude’s Pepto-Mangan taken regularly for a while gives the blood that richness and redness that produces bounding health and vigor. It is a simple, natural way to get well and strong. Gude’s Pepto-Mangan comes in liquid or tablets —at your druggist’s. Advertisement. A man may walk’.right up without walking upright. When a man is a bore he is always the last to discover it. DYED HER BABY’S COAT, A SKIRT AND CURTAINS WITH “DIAMOND DYES” Each package of “Diamond Dyes” .contains directions so simple any woman can dye or tint her old, worn, faded things new. Even if she has never dyed before, she can put rich color into shabby’ skirts, dresses, wafsls, coats, Stockings, sweaters, coverings, draperies, hangings, everything. Buy Diamond Dyes—no other kind—then perfect home dyeing is guaranteed. Just tell your druggist whether the material you wish to dye is wool or silk, or whether it is linen, cotton, or mixed goods. Diamond Dyes never streak, spot, fade or run.—advertisement. The good man prolongs his life; to live twice. —Marial. A happy man needs no philosophy. For true blue, use Red Crops Ball Blue. Snowy-white clothes will sure to result. Try it and you will always use it. All good grocers have it. —Advertisement. Ambition is usually discontent with talent added.

\ Mothers!! \ Write for 32- \ Page Booklet, \ “Mothers of the World" a M Pat. Process 'Lloyd /. Loom Products S Baby Carriages Use This Coupon —. T, . ... book!«t."Math«r»af the The Lloyd Ms«. f .. Company S - Manomism Mieh. Sw*" - (SU CHj State..... — nnsTSiGN OF A COLD-USE r 2S3GS©®IEIES a BtaM»r4 Cats aid La UHwa ..... Ts remedy- Deaiaad red bea baanag Mr. MHl‘. a* sUnatara w. h. hill company; dctioit jjjr CXdSB Shave With Cutie ur a Soap The New Way Without Mug for Sale—mild cli.mateXmakyland FARM. Special bargain. 176 A; 7 room house; fertile sotl; barns; outhouses and orchard. Mild climate, good water. Exceedingly -healthy location. . Good roads. Price 13.0 CC Terms If deslrSu. Other hanraina ’ listed. Write for our naw 1422 catalog Just out. J. A. JONES & CO.. Salisbury, Md.