The Syracuse and Lake Wawasee Journal, Volume 14, Number 46, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 16 March 1922 — Page 2

THE GIRL, A HORSE AND A DOG

.CHAPTER XVll.—Continued. ,* ’ —ll-— “’fefo'uld you have believed him?” I asked, grinning across the table at Beasley. “It’d a-been a question of vee-racity, as the eouft says J’ with maybe you and 111 Twombiy too dead to testify.” At this,‘Daddy, had been eating like a man half-starved, put In his word. “I reckon you can’t get at them •« galoots higher up, Stannie, but if you don’t shove Charley Bullerton Just about as far as the law ’ll allow, I’m goin’ to call ye a quitter.” At that moment Jeanie had Just brohglit in another heaping plate of the luscious corn cakes, and I was looking at her when I replied. “We’ll see about the shoving a bit later. Daddy. The first thing to do Is to put the old Cinnabar in shape to shell uslout some money. I’m broke, you know.”' Wlujn I made this admission, Beasley, the last man in the world from whom help could come, I should have Baid,.-looked me squarely In the eyes. “Stannie .Broughton—if that’s your name—you ain’t so dad-blamed crazy . as you look and act,” he remarked. “Moqqy’s what talks. Are you aimin’ tv swing onto this thing with your own hands?—for keeps, Inman; not to sell It out to the first set 0’ minin’ sharps that comes along?” “Stare!-—you «sal(l It; I’m going to keep- it and work I get out of file Jail where you’re going to land me for pinching that inspection car and getting it smashed. Why else did I.start, out blindfolded to hunt for a girl, a horse and a dog?” He let the latter half of my reply go .without ‘-commentcharging It up to some last lingering remains of the craziness, perhaps. “Well, let’s see about where you’d crack- your whip first,", he invited. “That part of it is easy,” I laughed. *What I tloii’t know about the practical end.of tlie mining Job would load a ril pitch out and hunt me wp a real, for-sure miner, of course." “Nothin'' so awfully crazy about Chat,” fcp-granted. Then: “What’s the matter with Hi Twombiy, here, for your boss miner?” “.Not a thing in the wide world—■ except that he can’t be because he Is going to be my partner in the deal.” “Now: you’re talkin’ a whole heap tike a white-man,” said the desperado>sh one. “Dqg-goned if I don't h’lleve ♦mi- itre white ! Wh.akjfo you say to givin’ me a wPick at the bdssin’ ilob?” I took just oiie little glance at Daddy,.and* the.'mild blue e.yes haid “yes.” “But, you’ve got me under arrest, Mr. Beasley,” I pointed out, Just to Bee what he’d say. can’t very well close n business! deal with your prisoner, can you?” “Kill two ’r three bir-’s with the one *ock,” he mumbled, (tramming the Blruped half of his breakfast-finishing corn cake Into hfs c.apacious mouth. *l’ll cljgse you dow/n to Angels and y(m ’over to the majesty 0’ the law—the same bein’ by name old Hquire Dubbin. Then I’ll jump my fob o’ sortin’ but the bad angels from amongst the good angels and go out >nd. rustle your ball 7 Time, old Bill iJubbin’s chewin’ over the law in sich Cases made and pervlded—like he’s

M i Bi - I •|V •.• f I Was Looking at Jeanie When I Replied.

hound to. do—l’ll.sera p.e, up a bunch o’ men nod start 'em up hereaways to begin' on the 'repairs. * How does all that strike you?” If my faugh was a bit grim there waS a warrant for it. “it Xrikes me fair in the empty' jpoekftt, yuy SW*d friend," I told him. •*JilSt at tills present moment I couldn’t 'finance one ’solitary, lonesome Carpenter—to say nothing of a gang »f thein. -yd.th brjlf a. dozen steamotters and boilermakers thrown in.” "Hu’fi!'/workln’ capital, you mean? That’k about "the 'easiest thing- this side o’ JSad.es —with a urine like the old rinnabjira-wltti np water in it than what can be pumped out—to back >ouf '’l'reckon frour' title to-the property.’s*Mll viglrt, Ain’t :tt ?” - - ‘ my. grandfather.” -So much l/spid, but ? I didn’t' L, fluiclc wit of h tf&W™ W*Shved! ficjra P of iwaste-papenwot that’ I ‘knew how she had done it—but the tangible fact 'was safely in my pocket. Fifteen minutes after this break-

fast table talk I was bidding a temporary good-by to the wreck on the Cinnabar ledge, and was about to take the road to Atropla with Beasley; both of us Intent upon catching a wayfreight to Angels. Daddy had lent me the piebald pony for the ride to the railroad station —this either with or without Jeanie’s consent; I didn't know and forbore to ask —and the harlequin-faced dog was ready to trot at the pony's heels. But the blue-eyed maiden had shut herself up in her room, and I thought she wasn’t going to come out and see me off. At the final moment, however, after Beasley had already steered his nag across the dump head, and I was about to climb Into my saddle, she came to the cabin door, and was both curiously embarrassed and a bit breathless. “Please! —one minute!” she begged ; and as I took my foot out of the stirrup : “Do you know what they have done with—with—” “With Bullerton?” I helped out. “No, I don’t know; but I suppose they’ve taken him on to the county seat at Copah With the others.” “Then —then—please let him go! If you refuse to prosecute—” “Make yourself entirely easy,” I broke in, a bit sourly, maybe. •s’T’ll agree not to play the part of the dog in the manger?’ “Thank you—so much!” she murmured ; and then she backed away quickly and went In and on through to the kitchen, leaving me to follow Beasley, which I did, with the sour humor telling me that of all the puzzling, unaccountable things in a world of enigmas, a woman’s vagaries were the least understandable. For, after all was said and done, and after all that had happened and been made to happen, it seemed to be palpably apparent that Jeanie Twombiy was still in love with the jeet. CHAPTER XIX. Angels, Desert and Urban. Our stop-over In Angels, Friend Beasley’s and mine, was of the shortest. Our business with Father William Dubbin was the merest travesty upon a trial at law, and was speedily concluded. Since there would be no passenger train until afternoon, Beasley and 1 resumed our places In the freight’s caboose, and in dije. time were set down In Brewster, the breezy little metropolis of Timanyoni Park. Here my captor—and friend—appeared to be very much at home. He took me to the best hotel, where he was greeted with affectionate camaraderie by a clerk who wore a diamond big enough to serve for a locomotive headlight, shook hands with, and introduced me to, a number of gentlemen in the lobby, and presently gave me orders to go up to our rooms and “take a wash,” preparatory to nteetlng a certain friend of his at luncheon ; the meeting contingent upon his being able to “round up” the friend in time for the feast. It still wanted a half-hour of the appointed luncheon time when I descended to the lobby. A little before one o’clock Beasley came in with a middle-aged man who looked as if he might have been the retired manage# of a Wild West show; not long-haired, or anything like that, but with the cool eye and bronzed, weather-beaten • *'nee of one who lived underhopse '.<(>is'only when circumstances forced .him to. A moment later 1 was slinking hands with Mr. William Sthrbpck, mine owner, ranchman, a director In the Brewster National bank, president of the Brewster Commercial club and the prime mover in a lot of other civic activities too numerous to mention.

I mhy pass lightly over the events of the three days following; days in which Mr. William Starbuck, who seemed to be known to all the oldtimers in Brewster as “Billy,” and to the younger generation as “Uncle Billy.” labored untiringly in my behalf; procured me the -necessary working credit at the Brewster National, helped me in the telegraphic ordering of new machinery, helped Beasley to rustle up a small army of . mechanics to go ahead of us to the Cinnabar, and last, but not least, made my peace with the railroad company in the mat-, ter of the stolen and smashed inspection car; this being a thing which lie was easily able to do because he was the brother-in-law, once removed; of the railroad company’s vice president and general manager. On our last day Brewster, antf’as a parting favor, I asked Starbuck how I should proceed in regard to quash-, ing the indictment agffinst Bullertoh? and when I did so, he • gave me a shrewd look out of the cool gray eyes, with a gentle uplifting of the shaggy brows.. “If you are determined to let Bullerton go, all you have to do is to do nothing. If you don’t appear in Copah to prosecute him and his wouldbe mine lumpers, the case against •them will be dismissed, as a matter of course. But really, ydu know, you ought to make an example of them.” “In the circumstances, I chp’t.” I returned,'so we let it go at that ;‘And an hour later Beasley and I Were :oq‘. our way back to Atropla and Cinpabar mountain. ' ’' CHAPTER XX. -i a Cousin Percy Wires. It on the evening of the fourth day’s absence that Beasley and I -left the train at Atropla and took the mountain trail tai reverse for a fcerorn ’-.fo thd high . bench, on Old-Cinnabar, Beasley riding a borrowed horse t and I the. calico pony, which Daddy Hlrpm hadsent down to the station bjf one of the newly Imported workmen. Just as we were leaving the rail-

By FRANCIS LYNDE

road station Buddy Fuller, the operator, ran out to hand me a telegram. Since it was too dark to see to read it, and I supposed, naturally, that It was nothing more Important than a bld from some machinery firm anxious to supply our needs, I thought it might wait, stuck It into my pocket—and promptly forgot It. Our talk, as we rode together up the now familiar trail, was chiefly of business; the business of reopening the mine; and it was not until we were nearing our destination that the exmarshal said: “Still stickin’ in your craw that you ain’t a-goin’ to pop the whip at Charley Bullerton ?” “It is,” I answered. “Well, now, why not?” “Principally because I have promised somebody that I wouldn’t prosecute.” “Not Hl Twombiy; he’d never ast you to do anything like that.” “No; not Daddy Hiram.” He didn't press the matter any further, and we rode on In silence. As

1 ii! Im IfflMl it

“Now You’re Talking Like a White Man." \ve approached the neighborhood of the mine, evidences of the forthputting activities began to manifest themselves. Daddy Hiram met us at the door of his newly repaired cabin across the dump heftjl, and insisted upon taking care of the horses. Beasley and I washed up at the outdoor, bench-and-basin lavatory; and when we went in, Jeanie had supper ready for us. She didn’t, sit at table with us — from which I argued that she and her father had already eaten —and I thought she purposely avoided me; avoided meeting my eye, at least. I didn’t wonder at it. Her position, as 1 had it figured out, was rather awkwardly By this time, I had fuljy convinced myself that she was in love with Bullerton, and was probably engaged to be married to him; and that it was only her native honesty that had driven her to take sides against film in the struggle for the Cinnabar, prompting her to do the one thing which had knocked his nefarious scheme on the head—namely, tile recording of my deed. Knowing nothing but hard work, Daddy Hiram was running the deepwell pumps himself, or rather, taking the night shift on them; and about ten o’clock; just as I had made up my mind to go to bed and let the repairing activities take care of themselves, I saw Jeanie going over to the boiler shed with a pot of freshly made coffee for her father. . Here was my chance, I thought; so I waited and cornered her as she came back. , “Let’s have it out, Jeanie,” I said; which, I confess, was a sort of brutal way to begin on the woman I loved, and yet the only way if I was to go on remembering that she belonged to another man. “We can at least be good friends, can’t we?” “No,” she returned, with a queer little twist of her pretty lips and a flash of the .blue eyes, “I’m afraid we can’t even.be that—or those—any more, Mr. Broughton.” ■ .

STRANGE RELATIONSHIP OF WORDS

"Degree” and “Degrade" Had a Common Origin Centuries Ago, but That Signifies Little. It is not easy -to understand how there should be any relations between the words “degree” and “degrade,” but such kinshinp doth appear if one but consider the facts. “Degree” has several phases of meaning. There is the degree of temperature, the degree of circular measure, the degree of consanguinity and - propinquity, the degree of excellence, the degree- of master of arts, bachelor of arts, doctor of divinity -and all degrees of degree. ■ ; The word-.came out of the Latin, passed through the French aqd was introduced - ’into England by the Norman French and here we have It with us J It started from the word which meant .a step. "Grade" and “graduation” are klri-words. “De- ' ibe -tQ step down, 'fas,* ■4W’.'9 nd /Ws” ate. 'forflis of, a word,, meaning “two”- dr "twice" or. “separW.frdpi.” Thus to Regrade” is to "stefr down, or cause to step down.” •: Now, "de* and "gradua” were the

SYRACUSE AND LAKE WAWASEE JOURNAL,

It was awkward for both of us, standing there before the open cabin door, and I pointed to tlie bench where Daddy Hiram was wont to smoke his evening pipe In good weather. “Won’t you sit down until we can sort of flail it out?” I begged. “It’s no use, whatever;” she objected; nevertheless, she Aid sit down and let me sit beside her. “I know Just how distressed you must be," I began, “and perhaps I can lift a bit of the load from your shoulders. There will be no legal steps tKken against your—against Charles Bullerton.” “Thank you,” she said; just as short as that “Anu that isn’t all,” I went on. “After we get into the ore and have some real money to show for it, I’m going to make over a share in the Cinnabar to your father and put him in a position to do the right thing by you when you marry. And he’ll do it; you know he’ll do it.” “How kind!” she murmured, looking straight out in front of her. “It isn’t kindness; its bare Justice. Between you, you two have saved my legacy for me.” “I wish, now, It hadn’t been saved!” she exclaimed, as vindictively as you please. Truly, I thought, the ways of women are past finding out; or at least the way of a maid with a man is. “Can’t I say anything at all without putting my foot Into it?” I asked in despair. “You break a man’s back with a load of obligation one day, and toss him lightly out of your young life the next! I haven’t done anything to earn your—to earn the back of your hand, Jeanie; or If I have, I don’t know what it is.” “You have committed the unpardonable sin,” she accused coolly. “I don’t wonder that Miss Randle took your ring off.” I wasn’t going to let the talk shift to Lisette'; not if I knew it, and could help It. “What, is the unpardonable sin?” I asked. “To misunderstand: to think a person capable of a thing when a person is not; . to —just take it for granted that a person is guilty—oh”—with a little stamp of her foot —“I can’t bear to talk about it!” I guess it’s a part of a man’s equipment to be dense and sort of stupid—in his dealings with women, I mean. Slowly, so slowly that I thought the catch would never-ynap and hold, my fool mind crept thick along the line, searching blindly yor the point at which all this fiery indignation toward me had begun; bark and still back to that moment of our deliverance — Daddy’s and mine—at the shafthouse door, with this dear girl untwisting her aims from her father’s neck, and with me saying, “I’m not hurt, either. Welcome home, Miss Twombiy—or should I say, Mrs. Bullerton?” “Jeanie!” I gasped; “do yon mean that you’re not going to marry Charles Bihlerton?—that you never meant to?” “Of'Course, I’m not !” she retorted, with ,a savage little out-thrust of the adorable chin. “But you thought so small ,of me that you simply took it for granted!” I wagged my head in deepest humility.. • “I’m as the dust under your pretty feet. Jeanie: please don’t trample me too hard. Bullerton—that is—er—we had a scrap the next morning after you went away, you know, and I . . . well, he rather got the worst of it. And w’hen I had him down and was trying to make him tell us where you were —even your father thought you’d gone off’ with him—he said you’d planned to go with him to get married. but that you had failed to show up at Atropla in time for the train.” “He told a lies, because that Is the way he is made and he couldn’t help It,” she said simply, still as cool as a cucumber. “He said we were going to Angels to get married, and I—l didn’t say we weren’t; I just let him talk , and didn’t say anything at all." “Won’t you tell me a bit more?” I begged. - * “You" don’t deserve it the least little MU but I will. It began with the deed; yqur deed to the mine. One day, whew you were over at the shaft-house,-fflid had left your coat here in the cabin, ; -1 saw him take the deed from your pocket when he didn’t know I was looking. He read it and put it back quickly when'he. heard me stirring in the other room. I knew it

parents of “degree” and “degrade." At first,, “degradation” meant a reduction from one gra /,r> or ...rank to another, and titeh it came to mean the withdrawal of any rank in-.offlce or society. In some way we have come to think that a man of degree is a high-up sort of fellow, and that a degraded man is a low-down sort of chap. Though .these words had a common, origin- centuries ago, it signifies little, Avoid anything that tends to degrade and struggle to be men, and women : ’ftf degree!—Kansas City Star. ' VS » Trade Rop tea ; Through Lhasa. By the trade routes that pass through Lhasa, caravans of sheep, mules, ponies or. yaks, laden with wool, hides, cloth, tea-bricks or salt, come and go, arriving generally in December and departing in March be-’ ’fore".the; spring floods. Better -cara--van then these-hardy - mules and the . small, tough, shaggy horses that*- aiVo serve as beasts of burden are the yaks. Fbr they can live, if need be, on coarse, stiff pasture, they carry heavy loads, are sure-footed on

hadn’t been recorded; you and Daddy had both spoken of that. I felt sure he’d take It again, and perhaps destroy it. At 'first, I thought I’d tell you or Daddy, or both of you. But I knew that would mean trouble.” “We were never very far from the fighting edge in those days,” I admitted. "Bullerton had shown me the gun he always carried under his arm, and had told me what to expect In case I were foolish enough to lose my temper." “I know,” she nodded. “He killed a man once; It was wnen I was a little girl and we were living in Cripple Creek. He was acquitted on the plea of self-defense. So I didn’t dare say anything to you or to Daddy. What I did was to steal your deed myself, when I had a chance. Daddy has some blank forms Just like it, and I sat up one night in my room and made a copy. It wasn’t fl very good copy—your grandfather’s handwriting was awfully hard to imitate. Besides, I didn’t have, any notarial seal. But I thought It might do for—for something to be stolen. Then I hid the real deed and put the copy back in the envelope in your pocket.” “And Bullerton finally stole It, just as you thoughbhe would/’ I put in. “He did. You are dreadfully careless with your things; you are always leaving your coat around, just where you happen to take it off. I knew then that the next thing to be done was to get your deed recorded quickly. He—he was urging me every day to run away with him, and I was afraid to tell him how much I despised him; afraid he’d take It out on you and Daddy. So I just let him go on and talk and believe what he pleased. Os course, he wanted to ride with, me the morning we went away, but after we got down the road a piece, I made an excuse to go on ahead by another trail.” “That much of what he told your father and me—when we were having the scrap—was true. He said you went on ahead.” “I didn’t go to Atropla, as he expected me to.” she continued calmly. “I took the old Haversack trail across the mountain to Greaser siding. I knew that the Copah train would stop there on the side-track. When I got as far as the Haversack I thought I heard somebody following me. I was scared and didn’t know what to do. I was afraid my copying of the deed had been discovered apd that the original would be taken away from me, so I hurried to hide the real deed. The old Haversack tunnel seemed to be a good place, but while I was In there , Barney began to bark, and I looked out and saw that the noise I had beard had been made by a stray cow from one of the foothill ranches. So I re-> mounted and rode on to catch the train to Copah. At Greaser siding I tried to make Barney lead the pony home, and Barney tried his best to do it. But Winkie wanted to graze, and I had to go off and leave them when the train came. That’s all, I think; except that I had to wait two days at my cousin’s in Copah before I could get the deed back from the recorder’s office. They were awfully slow about It.” “It isn’t quite all,” I amended. “You haven’t told me how you happened to come back with Beasley and his posse.” “That was just a coincidence. I reached Atropia on the early morning train and met Mr. Beasley and his men just as they were starting up the mountain. Cousin Buddy Fuller had told me how he had telegraphed to Angels for Mr. Beasley, and I was scared to death, of course, because I knew what it meant. So I borrowed the Haggertys’ pony and came along with the posse.” There was silence for a little time; such silence as the clattering and hammering of the carpenters and steam-fitters permitted. Then I said: “And when you got here, the first thing I did was to call you ‘Mrs. Bullerton’v I don't blame you for not be*> tag able to forgive me, Jeanie, girl; honestly, I don’t.” ‘ ■'“lf’ was worse than a crime." she averred solemnly; “it was a blunders What made you do It?” “Partly because I was a jealous fool; but mostly 'because I was sore and sorry and disappointed. I thought Bullerton had beaten, me to it.” “No,” she said quite soberly; “it was Miss Randle who beat you to it.” I gasped. There ‘were tremendous

frozen surfaces and seem not to mind the cold, even when icicles cling to their long black coats, and bushy white tails. ' Then, too, yaks are' blessed with horns, on which especially devout Tibetans, cut the sacred. “Om” formula; ’As another precaution against attFek, the caravan is provided with prayer-wheels and ae-. compauied by iioinad dogs. But the owners Os the mastiffs are not unfriendly to a stranger of good intent. When .they meet- one,, they pull off their caps, push forward . their left., ears,' put odf their' tongues apd bow politely.—Marietta Neff, in Asia MagIjsihe.V', ■<. Just So. “Ah,” said the professor at a foot? ball -.match, ‘T can: see that success at’ this spoil can, by perfect bo-operati'ori 'among .the each subordinating his own individual; Ity tothat.pf-the’organlzationof which . fie is. a. part,T. r "£ojj. right,ljut'the ifialij thing Jy teamwork/’ respited a football enthusiast. •' The magnificent cactus flower expands by night an<blovms for only a few hours, ,

Copyrt«ht by Cb*rlea Scribner’s Sons

possibilities In that answer of hers; prodigious possibilities. “But say!” I burst out; “didn’t I tell you that Lisette bad pushed me overboard long ago?" “I know. She was sensible enough to see that you and she couldn’t live on nothing a year. But now that you are rich, or are going to be . . . I’m sure you are not going to be less generous than she was. What if she did take your ring off In a moment of discouragement, and knowing that you couldn’t buy her hats? You can be very sure she put It on again as soon as your back was turned.” There we were;.no aooner over one hurdle before another and a higher one must Jump up. I groaned and thrust my hands *nto my pockets. A paper rustled and I drew it out. It was the telegram Buddy Fuller had handed me, still unread. I opened it half absently, holding it down so that the glow of the nearest flare fell upon the writing. Then I gave a little yelp, swallowed hard two or three times and nearly choked doing it, and read the thing again. After all of widen 1 said, as calmly as I could: “But, in spite of all that I had told you about Lisette, you asked me once to kiss you.” “Is —is it quite nice of you to remind me of it ?” she inquired reproachfully. “It wouldn’t be —In ordinary circumstances : it would be beastly. But, listen, Jeanie; haven’t you been mad clear through, sometimes, in reading a story, to have a coincidence rung in on you when you knew perfectly well that the thing couldn’t possibly have happened so pat in the nick of time?” “I suppose I have; yes.” “Well, don’t, ever let it disturb you again. Because the real thing is a lot more wonderful and unbelievable, you know. Listen to this: it’s a wire from my cousin, Percy; the one who sent me out into the wide, wide world to look for a girl, a horse and dog, and who Is the only human being outside of Colorado who knows where I am likely, to be reached by telegraph. He is in Boston, and this Is what he says: ‘Recalled home when we reached Honolulu, out-bound. Lisette and I were married today. Congratulate us? ” For a minute there was a breathless sort of pause, and I broke It. “Jeanie, dear, was it just common honesty and good faith that made yon take all these chances, with the deed, and with Bullerton??’ “Yes, I’m commonly honest,” said the sinall voice at my shoulder. “Bullerton is a shrewd, smart fellow,” I went on. ’ I’ll venture to say that he never made such a bonehead break as I did the morning you came back. You must think something of him or you wouldn’t have asked me not to prosecute him for trying to murder your father and me.” She looked down at her pretty feet, which were crossed. “I think —a little something—of myself,” she said, with small breathcatchings between the words. “I owed myself that much, don’t you think? If I didn’t deceive him outright, I’m afraid I did let him deceive himself. So that made me responsible, in away, and I couldn’t let you send him to jail, could I?” “But what about me? Are you going to send me to. a worse place than

W' in jMi 80®® ■ifcx \ ill ill® lOJIw ll J

“.Let’s Haye ** QM* Jeanie,” I Said, any jail?—for that is -wbat the whole wide world is going to be to me without you, Jeante, dbar." Her answer Was Just like her: She turned and. put. Up her face to me and said, “Kiss me again, Stannie.” And though all the carpenters on the job were looking on, as* I suppose they were, by this time, .1 took her in my arms. It was a short spasm; it sort of had to be in the public circumstances. When it was over, J folded Percy’s telegram, took opt my. pencil, and with the dear girl looking on, printed my reply on what Was left of the message blank. This is what I said: “The same to you. Have found the G„ the H. and the D., and Miss Jeanie Twombly and I are to be married aS soon as we can. find a minister, Inci’dentally, I have learned how, to work,. Hope it will be a comfort to you, to Grandfather Jasper—if he is where h< can hear of lt-r-and 'to all concerned. • “STANNIE.” (THE END.]

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W. <| Pat. Process LOOM 1/ioyfi pr ° ductß Baby Camages & Furniture Ask Your Local Dealer Write Now for32-Page ..Ulus- / trated J Booklet The Lloyd Manufacturing Company (Heyuxx></-W / Co.) Dept. ® Menominee, Michigan (16)

Garfield Tea Was Your Grandmother’s Remedy For every stomach and intestinal ill. ' M This B°od old-sash-’tjf loned herb home JflL remedy for .constlpation, stomach ills T** other derange* •i ments of the‘system so prevalent these days is in even greater favor as a family medicine than in your grandmother’s day. \. ; -iv.