Walkerton Independent, Volume 51, Number 19, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 8 October 1925 — Page 6

WRIGLEYS EVERY Probably one reason for the W|LV|£w popularity of WRIGLEY’S is that it lasts so long and returns such great dividends for so small an outlay. • It keeps teeth clean, breath sweet, appetite keen, digestion good. Fresh and full-flavored always in its wax-wrapped package. |«lS_»k4 Champion will render better service for a much longer time. Th at ■ is why it is outselling throughout the world. Champion X tor Fo-rtlj 6 Oc. Bluz Box for all other cars, 75c. More than 95.000 dealers sell Cham’ pions. You will know the genuine by the double-ribbed core. Champion Spark Plug Co. Toledo, Ohio Windsor, Ont., London, Paris BETTER TUNING Is the Biggest Dime’s Worth IN RADIO 64 pages of unusual advice on parts, hook-ups, , tuning and latest ideas. It shows y° u how and tells you why. Whether you ' build your set or B y buy it “Better ^Circuit Tun., -UI Send 10c with this ad to BREMER-TULLY MFC. CO. 532 S. Canal SL CHICAGO, ILL Money back if not more than pleased. ■■UM ‘ fOL>» Whwiwß G/Monthly bills knock you cold You must eat! You must dress! But no one can make you use inferior oil and pay cold cash for the repairs that must result. MenaMotor Oil will eliminate at least one of the bills that knock you cold. Mens Motor will stop all repair bills from faulty lubrication. Buy only MonaM?tor OiL Monarch Manufacturing' Co. Council Bluffs, lowa Toledo, Ohio Monaffotor Oils & Greases ^reciteiyZ. ^5 Rubber J Heels aa AR® ready to v enjoy yonrM * PWH \ •oc a. dull-.. \ .ports or recreations? Try HOSTETTER'S ' Celebrated Stomach Bitters —• TJV?\ ^7 >4.- M wbcle^m. tunic, appetiser sad corrective. Jtf At Al! Druggists Th. Hoetetter Ce.. Plttet'■nr* Fa. agMßvnißanßHKaaaEcv^DMaMßn^u^^W^ BWH^wSr

^yanishing; &LMen.Z JED' V/\ t movm wAsmm miL, wk 1 COPYRIGHT BY I 11 / E R DUTTON »CO. ) WNU Service.

CHAPTER XlV—Continued —l2— “I thought it would be possible to telegraph to every dealer In the country.” “Please don’t Interrupt,” the other •aid in a whisper as if Peter had clattered into some funeral service. “I am thinking.” When he had ceased thinking he looked up, snapped on his smile and stared at DeWolfe out of pale blue eyes. “The operation will cost a great deal of money.” Peter waved his hand. “I think I better say—” began Smallwood, who appeared discouraged. He paused, he repeated: “I think I better say, however, that I will make a trial provided—” “That I am able to bear any expense?” Smallwood appeared surprised that any human being could have as much sense. He said: “The search will require several stenographers, a longdistance telephone bill of rather alarming size and possibly a price for the book far beyond Its real value —several times the probable amount It would bring at an auction.” “Go ahead,” said Peter. “May I say that the—your desire for a copy of this book must be extraordinary?” “Oh, yes, most extraordinary. A week ago I would not have paid two dollars for it. Men have gambled away their lives on it. I can’t tell how much I want it until I get it. But to get it I will pay what It costs. And if you can locate a copy of the book—?” “I would let you know at once.” "Time counts. I would be grateful.” Smallwood blinked. Only when hts visitor was at the door did he say, with a swltched-on smile: “Oh, by the way, must the volume be in perfect condition ?” “It can be a bundle of debris as far as I am concerned.” answered Peter. “But all the pages must be there.” The otl-er man was reaching for the telephone Instrument with his cold ■torage fingers as De Wolfe left Hie office. From the publishers he went to one Manfred Eldegard at 6 Nassau street. Eldegard is a public accountant whose clients are the surety and bonding companies. The vice-president of one of these companies had said to DeWolfe: "You are not familiar with auditing and accounting as I am. Peter. If you were you would know that accuracy, honesty, speed, reliability are qualities that can be hired In carload lots. It is easy to engage experts in figures. But the genius among accountants is the man who can read figures Just as a pianist reads music. That man is worth something because he can translate into the terms of life. There’s one of those fellows that can make circles round the rest. Here’s his letter head.” “Is he willing to take a chance on getting shot?” Peter had asked. “Shot?” the other had repeated with a gasp. “I may have to send him a long way off. I don’t know what hazards there are.” The official of the bonding company had looked at Peter Incredulously but he had said, "You’ll have to ask him or his wife. I understand that there are few witnesses for the state in criminal trials who have weathered as many blackmail and blackhand threats aa M. E. as we call him.” "Would he be more" ready to keep his mouth shut for his client than to open it to the police for Instance?” "My dear sir, when you engage Eldegard you buy a strip of his services. It’s yours. If you don’t want him to disclose anything there is no process server that can land him and if there were there Is no district attorney who would get anything out of crossexamination except evasions.” Upon a confirmation of this opinion Peter had chosen this fat man with two chins, a pompadour of bristles above a broad flat face with little eyes, nose and mouth pricked Into it as if by a point of a pencil; to him Peter, following the appointment he had made, stated his problem. "Where are these accounts?” asked Eldegard. Peter put them upon the glass top of the desk. The little beady eves of the fat man fixed a stare upon the Russia leather covers; he extended a large meaty hand and caressed these books as if they were a delicacy brought to him to cook and eat —a pleasure of digestion—a mere morsel for a gourmand. As he turned the pages marked by Peter he began to utter cbu-chu, chuchu between his teeth, increasing its speed as If getting up steam as a locomotive puffs faster and faster when it leaves a train shed. "What’s this Credit Account X.D.?” he inquired under his breath. “That’s the one that occurs most often,” said Peter. Eldegard drummed with his cushioned fingertips on the glass. 'lt looks that way.” he announced, “ —the way you said.” "But you are not sure?” “Only sure as a man Is sure who finds watercress in ids milk. To be sure we would have to check against the transactions in the local cotton exchange. Some of these are New Orleans houses. The X.D. was a private ‘udlviduai.” Do A olfe looked at the expert search-

tngly. He said: “Do you see anything else?” “Yes—some one has been here before us. Perhaps It was you, eh?” “No,” replied Peter. "What do you see?” “I see that some one who had a reason has put copy paper and carbons under these pages and copied these handwriting entries by running a stylus over the original entries. Sometimes the carbon and paper went askew; that’s why you see these little blue marks. Did you think It extraordinary that I observed that?” "Oh, no,” said Peter. “Not at all. How could I? It was the first thing that made me wonder about the story these figures can tell. When can you go?” “Go? Me? In person?” “Yes. New Orleans —wherever the trail leads?” Eldegard shook his head like a great Buddha with a pivoted neck. “Never,” he said. “I’m too busy.” “Isn't it your office force that is busy?” asked DeWolfe, throwing his cigarette into the bronze ash tray. "Besides, as for the money —that Is for you to say. Whatever is necessary to get your services.” "It isn’t money,” Eldegard answered. “If I’d paid any attention to money I wouldn’t be worth fifty thousand today. No, it’s Laura—Mrs. Eldegard. We’ve got a screened-ln porch; we play checkers £very evening.” “And so on,” said Peter describing with a phrase the whole texture of a great fabric of companionship each thread of which wm a homely commonplace, the whole a magic cloth of gold. "Yes.” said the other. “And an on How did you know? You never lived it?” "I Intend to,” said Peter solemnly. Eldegard burst Into uproarious laughter. Say!” he exclaimed with a manner of speech that like all oilier natural expressions of this fat man had been a rock of Gibraltar against which the assaults of culture had bounded off. "Say I I'd like to tackle this.” He slapped the back of one of the Russian leather books as one would slap a friend on the back. “It’s a story I” he said. “A fascinating trail.” “I think it is a story —a true story,” DeWolfe agreed. "A thriller." Eldegard considered. “Blessed if I don’t ask ma—ask her If I can go.” He spoke as If it were a permission to go to the swimming hole or the circus. “Thank you,” said Peter. "I recognize the presence of good sportsmanship. 1 never expected to see It in the field of auditing.” Eldegard picked up the two books. He said: “Leave ’em with me. and telephone me tomorrow, and I’ll let you know what ma says.” "I’ll telephone tomorrow,” said Peter. CHAPTER XV On Sunday evening, after he had dined early with Colby Pennington, in one of the great deserted dining rooms in a certain New York club, Peter felt the sense of revolt against the rut-running life of his own kind. From Pennington, with his naturally brilliant mind, shackled in religion, in politics, in morals, in taste, by those schools of petty imitation misnamed Society and Respectability and Precedent, DeWolfe that evening had drawn a new draught of disgust. Poor Pennington, industrious, irreproachable, successful! For all his pains no nearer God: for all his labors no nearer to mankind. Even his restraints had not enlarged his soul; Peter was certain that If the lawyer would only commit one good dashing highway robbery he would be a better man. He wondered what this successful professional man would, say if he knew that under Peter’s thigh a hard object was pressing Into the flesh as they sat in the great hall with their coffee and watched club members slide here and there alone, like dyspeptic ghosts; he wondered what Pennington would do if he pulled out this automatic pistol as he was tempted to do, and -stirred his coffee with its barrel. The reason that Peter did not do this was because when Pennington had said, "You are a fool to carry that thing,” he could be sure that his attorney was wrong about it. When he said good-night to Pennington, there was still enough daylight for a walk alone to one of the little parks over near the East river. He remembered that, in France, his idea of the most wonderful moment in the world, the sharpest contrast to the gigantic nobilities and the colossal triviality of war, was a moment on a New York park bench with children of the tenements still playing in the dusk, perhaps with an organ and a monkey thrown in for good measure. Since then how life had changed for him. When he sat down the children in the dusk—the realities—faded away and were lost in unreal pictures of Brena in her Beconshire garden, perhaps with her great dark eyes turned toward the sunset because he had gone behind it. He felt an extraordinary restlessness —like that which comes upon those who have been deprived of some drug and are In torture while it goes slowly out of the system. He who wished not to wait, was waiting. He felt the dread of unknown calamities.

And with inis haunting sense of hovering crisis, he turned back to his apartment. There Peter tried to read, experiencing that irritating lack of concentration which comes to all readers whose minds steal away from the page allowing the eyes to travel on alone like independent animals photographing mere type without ideas, until whisked back by their master to the place where they had ceased to read and begun only to move arcoss the lines of print. He put the book down. The romance did not hold him; he had come to the threshold of romantic realities. He had knocked upon a noncommittal door. He was waiting for it to open. It did in fact open—and quickly. Before nine, the old elevator man came rocking along the corridor on his long uud his short leg and rang Peter’B bell. "There’s^ gentleman below, sir,” he said. “I knew you was here, sir, but I told him 1 would see.” "What was his name?” asked DeWolfe. “Smallwood, sir, Smallwood. A very sleepish man—a restful man, like.” “You never can tell by the first look,” said Peter. “Sunday night I And Smallwood —bring him up.” The second meeting with the pale personality of the authority on books made him appear to Peter a few shades lighter in pallor. His eyes were almost mere colorless openings in a face of little more the color of a moonstone by contrast with the shell rims of his glasses. His free hand hung listless us if It were Just out of refrigeration. He wore a suit of pale gray, the pattern of which was so delicate that it might have been only the fancy of weak eyes. Smallwood looked as if he were something that had stood out through a rainy season. “Here I am,” he drawled. “You don't mean—?” exclaimed Peter. The other man in answer placed the package under his arm on Peter's long Jacobean table. The motion was almost surreptitious. "Yes, I did find one,” he drawled. "Not so far away either." He looked up Inquiringly Into DeWolfe’s expressive face, now swept by K Mil - — TH ■ V On Sunday Evening. Alter He Had Dined Early With Colby Pennington, in One of ‘he Great Dining Rooms of a Certain New York Club. Peter Felt a Sense of Revolt Against the Rut-Running Life of His Own kind. many emotions like puffs of wind scurrying across the surface of water. •‘That’s great!" Peter exclaimed. “It’s great." “Oh. how kind of you to say so.” Smallwood said. “I found this today and I thought I would drop In with it.” He appeared about ready to He down and go to sleep. “Look here,” said Peter. “You know that wus mighty kind, to come up here —and all that. I’ll not forget it. Quite aside from the professional obligation.” Smallwood raised bls cold-storage hand as the orator does when pretending that applause is undeserved. The gesture also appeared to give Peter permission to inspect the prize. Off came the string and off the wrapping paper. Without a glance at the binding or title Peter flapped over the pages. Thirty, thirty-one, two, three, four, five. Thirty-six! Thirty-seven! “All here!” exclaimed DeWolfe looking up, but as If even the pallor of Smallwood had faded out completely, the book collector’s counselor had gone; he had closed the door noiselessly as if the paleness of him not only was for the sight but for the sense ot hearing as well. Peter pushed the third copy of the rare volume upon which he had put his hands under the arc of the bronze lamp. “The way presents no obstacles to progress save the sand which Is loose for the feet of horses,” Father Carlos, the Jesuit explorer, had written. “This region of fine sand blown by winds from the Mesa begins at the valley that we have called the Dry Cup and by me is so marked upon the drawing. Thence it runneth straight north for a distance of one hundred and five. Here was found a vast mound, some of our party saying below a great rock was to be found. The course from this mound is northwest; one we have followed by great good fortune like a miracle.' there being only impassable clefts in the plain to the right and to the left and only one entrance into the Great Cleft, where is the ruins of the city—part upon the level ground and part upon the southern wall of the Mesa.” Peter turned to the map drawn so quaintly by the painstaking priest nearly two centuries ago. “lest others unguided by the hand of God become lost.” At the end of twenty minutes of study DeWolfe stood erect and drew in a deep breath. These pages then were those which Parmalee had sought and found, the same as those which he had torn out of the book; they had been associated with some strange

all. Was the call to that region or was the call something that followed his search for this quaint old volume and its possession? To Peter it appeared now that one more piece of material was needed to till the pattern. He had been reluctant to seek this piece but now there was too much confirmation to allow anything to stand In the way. He could not wait; he took his hat. The evening was now filled with moonlight, so clear, upon white cloud banks on a purple velvet sky, that it invited all to walk leisurely under a spell of silvery calm that even transformed the rectangular prisms of the city and the deep streets between. Peter knew nothing of the moon; he pursued one end, blind to ail else. After hurrying on foot for two blocks he succeeded in stopping an empty taxicab that was clattering soutiiward on the avenue. “Take me there,” he said to <he driver, putting a card In his hand. The car turned about as if it had forgotten something uptown and after ten blocks on the asphalt, swung through a cross street to the car tracks upon which It purred like a brush on velvet until it turned around a hospital on a corner and found a block of old-fashioned brownstone houses. Up the long steps of one of them, Peter climbed, looking for a doctor's sign, and finding It there he rang the bell. The man he had come to see met him in a typical doctor's office with Its mingled and vague Impressions of milky glass slabs, nickel instrument trays, the vicious appearance of a harmless nose and throat apparatus, books bound in dark red, scattered medical journals folded twice lengthwise, the sound of water dripping into a washbowl behind a white door and the faint smells of ether and aristol powder. Peter gave no Inspection to the man who received him ; he began abruptly by stating his name. The professional man, acting from habit, maided, put on his glasses, took out a card case and said In a carefully nurtured tone of sympathy: “What’s the matter?” "Nothing is the matter,” replied DeWolfe, “I'm not ill. I took a chance on tinilinjj you <>n Sunday evening. I know nothing of your office hours. Apparently I’m lucky." "Possibly.” “1 came to consult you In your other capacity." The other man got up: Peter could now see that he was a tall man who had neglected to shave that morning. He guessed that the practice of this physician did not flourish, but he sensed at once the vanity of the man the moment his second field of skill had been mentioned. “Yes. I do a little of that, too,” the doctor said with fraudulent modesty. "I should say so." replied Peter. “Who do you suppose sent me here?" “one of my lawyers, perhaps.” "The district attorney.” The doctor was plainly pleased. He said. “Well, handwriting has been my hobby. Mr. DeWolfe, for nearly twen-ty-two years. It began curiously enough by a triviality—an attempt to read character through penmanship; it has ended in h scientific inquiry, the development of method, a system of rhythm measurements. Scarcely a day goes by that I am not consulted by the prosecuting authorities in many cities. I testified In London in the famous Speere murder case." "I was told," said Peter, "I wqs told that you were In advance of any other man In America with perhaps one exception. I came to you for that reason. I came for an opinion. For that opinion I will gladly pay the fee you ask, but I want to say to you that the result of your opinion will have the gravest bearing upon the lives of at least two persons.” “I do not give opinions.” the other said severely. “I give facts. I guess at nothing. My reports are not speculations; they are statements." Peter ejaculated one word: "Exactly He was nervous and he could not conceal It. “Well?" said the doctor. From his memoranda book DeWolfe took out two pieces of paper. One of them was that with the symbol of the feathered serpent and the two words “The Sign” which once had been Ln the possession of Jim Hennepin; the other was the check drawn by Compton Parmalee to the order of his wife, Brena Selcoss Parmalee, which she bad Indorsed. He placed this indorsement up and not down as he put the two pieces of paper side by side upon the table. “Huh!” said the doctor, bending over them. Peter looked up at him sharply. “That,” said the doctor, putting a square-ended forefinger upon the words “The Sign.” “What?” asked Peter. “It is an excellent example of an attempt to disguise penmanship." De Wolfe felt it necessary to contract his muscles to hold in an excla-

Dress Really Matter of High Importance

We may say, offhand-like, that we “don’t care a thing about style.” But Is that true? Test the next man who says so by suggesting that he get out the old wedding suit of 30 years ago burnish It up a bit. and wear It for a month. He won’t. Or test the next woman by suggesting that she go into the attic and get the old hat of 20 years ago—that iiat which was set atop the hair and was the antithesis of the smart turban of today. Will she do it? No; she cares, according to the Milwaukee Journal. And we all should care. For dress expresses our taste, our moral philosophy of life, our inner selves, more than we realize. It is about all that others see of us as we go among them. To be neatly dressed, within a measure of correctness, shows our desire to be held in proper esteem by those around us. It shows, also, a desire not to of fend their sensibilities by doing the outlandish thing. Styles have wandered a good deal. There has, perhaps, been too much of the peacock about them. But on the

mation tnat had tried to ieap from him. “That Is not the problem,” said he. “What is it?” "The problem Is whether the same hand wrote the words on these two pieces of paper. Did they?" “Did they?” repeated the doctor scornfully. “Did you expect an answer to that—at once —in a minute? Upon the specimens you have brought? My stars I Man! There are only two words on this piece.” “I thought it would not require much time—” “Much time!” exclaimed the doctor. “Well, it wouldn’t require much time. It requires measurements, it requires the microscope to pick out the arcs. 1 hat is all. 1 could get at it tomorrow morning and in a few hours —” “Tonight." said Peter firmly. "I know that this sounds unreasonable. Look here. It is worth a thousand dollars for me to know tonight.” The doctor swallowed. “You want a yes or no answer?” “And I want you to telephone me. No matter what hour, I shall be waiting. Here is my number. No matter what hour. You understand. A thousand dollars." The other swallowed again. “It isn’t worth a thousand dollars.” “It is to me,” said Peter earnestly. •»*• • • • • At half-past four In the morning, w hen Peter was staring out at the first color in the eastern sky, filled with strange chill of a sleepless night, his telephone rang at lasL He had his answer. At half-past four In the afternoon five days later Brena Selcoss walked into the office of Colby Pennington. She bad come directly from the pier on the North river. Her face was white, her sensitive lips moved uneasily as if seeking to suppress emotions of their own. Pennington was moved by her presence. "I am a friend of Mr. DeWolfe’s.” she said. "I have sent a wireless addressed to him here. I have been on the sea for eleven days.” Pennington held up the undelivered envelope. "Are you Miss Selcoss?” he asked. "Well, Peter DeWolfe sent you a cablegram—something about advising you to delay your coming. You had started. Too bad. Just now Mr. DeWolfe is out of town.” “Out of town?” “Why, yes. He -vent a few days ago. He had something to investigate. We rather expected to hear from him. He went off in a hurry—some hurry and flurry. I believe he had received some kind of message.” Pennington stopped. "For God's sake what’s the matter?” Brena Selcoss. leaning forward in her chair, had thrown her arms upon his desk and in the curve of one elbow she had buried her face. For a moment she appeared as lifeless as'lf she had been struck a crashing blow upon the head. (TO BE CONTINUED.) Grave Purpose Behind Writing of Fiction Universal nature, too strong for the petty fiber of the bard, sits on his neck and writes through his band; so that when he seems to vent a mere caprice and w ild romance the issue is an exact allegory. Hence Plato said that “poets utter great and wise things which they do not themselves understand.” All the fictions of the Middle ages explain themselves as a masked or frolic expression of that which in grave earnest the mind of that period toiled to achieve. Magic, and all that Is ascribed to It. is a deep presentment of the powers of science. The shoes of swiftness, the sword of sharpness, the power of subduing the elements, of using the secret virtues of minerals, of understanding the voices ot birds, are the obscure gropincs of the mind in a right direction. The preternatural prowess of the hero, the gift of perpetual youth and the like are but the endeavor of the human spirit “to bend the shows of things to the desiies of the mind.” —Ralpu Waldo Emerson in "Esuiy on History.” Peculiar Whistle An English scientist has invented a whistle with adjustable plug by which the whistle can be rendered more and more shrill until the vibrations are so rapid that they no longer affect the human ear. But a dog can still hear them, and will leap readily to their call. Swift’s Sarcastic Proposal Dean Swift, in 1729, wrote an ironical treatise. “A Modest Proposal for Preventing the Children of Poor People in Ireland From Being a Burden to Their Parents,” in which he suggests they be fattened and eaten. Or an Onion A wealthy New Y’ork ooctor is being sued by two women to whom he paid ardent attention. “On^ of them ought to have eaten an apple a day,” is the comment of the Arkansas Thomas Cat.

whole there has been progress—better art, a more pleasing blend of colors, a keener sense of the appropriate—and we have saved the best thoughts from year to year. Other Fish to Fry The owner of an estate on which there was a lake was annoyed to sea a stranger fishing therein. He approached the trespasser and began to abuse him. “This lake.” he said. “Is privately owned and I stocked it myself. You must go away at on<*e.” “Just a minute, sir.” said the fisherman calmly. "What did you stock tin lake with?” “Trout.” was the answer. “And 1 won't have ’’ “That’s all right, sir,” said the tre» passer unconcernedly. “I'm fishing for pike.”—Rohoboth Sunday Herald. If You Can After finding a gas leak with th* use of a match the next thing bs ts find the house. —Toledo Biada.

Had Lost All Hope of Ever Being Well

’ MT I

Read story of the fight for health and final victory as told by Mn. James A. Hall, Box 31, Norria City, Illinois,

“About twelve years ago my health failed. I could not eat anything without suffering. I had heartburn, sour stomach, palpitation of the heart, smothering spells, pains in my back and sides and a cough almost like consumption. Nothing helped me. I grew worsa and was able to sit up only part of the time. I had lost all hope* of ever being any better when someone gave me a Pe-ru-na book. The book described my case so truly that I began to take Pe-ru-na. After two and a half bottles I could eat without suffering and improved from then on. I took eight bottles and felt like a new person. That was fourteen years ago. So many diseases are due to catarrh that I think Pe-ru-na the greatest family medicine in the world.” For more than half a century Pe-ru-na has been doing just such work as this. Send 4 cent* postage to the PE-RU-NA COMPANY, Columbus, Ohio, for a booklet on catarrh. Pe-ru-na is for sale EVERYWHERE Tablets or Liquid Quick Sa f e Relief CORNS In one minute—or less—the pain ends. Dr. Scholl’s Zino-pad is the safe, sure, healing treatment for corns At drug and shoe store*. DX Scholl's Zino-pads Ptxt on« on - tJie pain i» gong QKIN IRRITATIONS For their immediate relief and healing doctor* prescribe Resinol Robust Mother of Five Healthy, Happy Children Keeps Fit with Beecham’s Pills “Wben I feel a dizzy headache coming on, I take one or two Beecham’s Pills. “ I am 33 —a healthy, robust mother with five happy children, thanks to Beecham’s. I do all my own housework, besides sewing, washing, ironing and caring for the children.” Mrs. ALBERT ORMEROD Fall River, Mass. For FREE SAMPLE—write B. F. Allen Co., 417 Canal Street. New York Buy from your druggist in 25 and s** boxes For constipation, biliousness, sick headaches, and other digestive ailments take Beecham 9 s Pills

Boschee’s Syrnp for Coughs and Lung Troubles Successful for 59 years. 30c and 90c bottles — ALL DRUGGISTS

I / p'W

Healthy, Happy Babies The best way to keep baby in crowing, contented health is Mrs. Winslow’s Syrup. This safe, pleasant, effective remedy regulates the bowels and quickly overcomes diarrhoea, colic, flatulency, cbnstipation, and teething troubles. MRS. WINSLOW’S SYRUP ThaMmtt’and Children’a Regulator is best for baby. Guaranteed free from narcotics, opiates, alcohol and all harmful ingredients. Open formula on every label. At all Draggiata Write for free booklet of letters from grateful mothers. Anglo-American /A Drug Co. (I . 215-217 Fulton St, / fe? New York I • xBZs J - ..

Farmers in Hard Luck Farmers of Spain, in the last five years, have not received sufficient prices for grain to pay for the production. Brought Up on a Farm As a young man Dr. Tierce practiced medicine in a rural district and

was known far and wide for his great success in alleviating disease. He early moved to Buffalo and put up in ready-ro-use form, his Golden Medical Discovery, the well-known tonic for the blood, which is an ex-

tract of native roots. This “Discovery” of Dr. Pierce's clears away pimples and annoying eruptions, tends to keep the complexion fresh and clear. It corrects the disordered conditions in a sick stomach, aids digestion, acts as a tonic and enriches the blood. Vim is sure to follow its use. All dealers. Tablets or liquid.