$ f é c o n d C o u s in parerti
2
BY TME AL TMOH O f
’ AMBE J L OBE. 3 f t * S T E M , ” * L I T T L E MATE A / MB Y . "
ETi . . E T C
C H A P T E R II.— (Continued.)
Sod*?*- H ill was a staring edifice o f con-
siderable proportions, with an aspect c f
newness about it that fourteen years had '
not done much to soften. It had been
built to the order o f the present proprie
tor, who had made much money by cot
ton stockings, and had risen from twen
ty shillings u week at the loom to the
splendor o f his present life. It was a
new house to suit the new man who bad
been lucky enough to get rich. There
were spacious grounds beyond, and there
was a big room at the side, that was new
to Reuben Culwick since he had last
stood in his father’s house, and it was
this that he pulled up his horse to in
spect before turning into the carriage
drive.
Then he went rapidly along the drive,
drew up in front o f the house, and step
ped lightly and briskly from the trap,
giving the reins to a rosy-faced young
man in livery, who emerged from some
stabling in the rear, to be o f service to
the newcomer.
“ Old Jones has gone, then?" he said to
the servant.
“ Y’ es, sir. H e’s with Squire Black of
Holston."
“ And you reign in his stead. Well,
we cannot all reign."
H e knocked and rang, looking stead
ily through the glass doors the while.
Another new face— a smart young house
maid, whom he had never seen before, to
replace Mrs. Perkins, who was stout and
sallow, came to the door and admitted
him.
“ Is Mr. Culwick in?"
“ Yes, sir, but he’s engaged just now."
“ You will be kind enough to give him
my card?"
The maid servant took the card and
departed, and Reuben Culwick, like the
merest stranger, and feeling like a stran
ger, very doubtful o f his reception, walk
ed up and down the spacious hall with his
hands behind him, and his bat in his
hands.
Presently the servant reappeared.
“ W ill you step this way, if you please,
sir?"
Reuben followed the servant along a
corridor to a door at the extremity— the
door of the new room, he was certain.
report, made me what I am? I would
: rather break my own heart than break
my word. You know it," said the father
i boastfully.
“ F ifty hearts as w?!l ns your own—
yes, ! know it," answered the other, with
an unflinching faze ) t his father, “ and
hence I come to you— not for assistance,
I don’t want it; not for affection, I don't
expect it— but with the simple motive,
which I hope that iny letter conveyed to
you last week, to see you, to express sor
row for a long alienation, to feel glad
that you are well, to tell you that I am
not unhappy, and to go away again.”
The son’s tones seemed to impress the
father, who subsided into his easy chair,
from which, he had leaned forward, as if
cowed by the cold, clear-ringing tones
o f the voice which fell upon his ears,
voice which subdued him, and an arro
gance that had always been difficult to
quell— which touched him, though he
never owned that— which made him even
prouder o f his son. though the time nev
er came for him to own that, either.
The young woman in the background
leaned forw ard'w ith clasped hands until
he caught her glance again, when she
once more turned her eyes upon her book.
“ Have you made your fortune?" asked
the father, in a different voice.
“ On the contrary, I have been some
what unsuccessful."
“ H ow do you live?"
“ I write— a little,’’ he added modestly.
“ It is a long story, that would scarcely
inter€»st you."
“ It would not interest me in the least."
There was another long pause, during
which the son, still at his ease, still singu
larly hard.« despite his respectful man
ner. glanced round at the pictures on the
walls, admired them even, secretly but
not enviously, wondered at their cost, and
looked once more in the direction of the
lady, whose pensive face and quiet grace
he admired also, and at whose presence
he wondered in a greater degree, though
he repressed all exhibition of surprise.
Suddenly the father said, with that sin
gular abruptness characteristic o f the
mnn:
“ You can stay here if you like."
“ For how long?" asked the son, sur
prised at last out of his assumption of
from his old remembrance o f the house. stoical composure.
The door was opened and his name an
“ T ill we disagree again," said the fath
nounced, and he felt that he was passing er,-with a short, forced laugh; “ that will
into a spacious apartment, the walls of not be many days, I suppose?"
which were bright aud rich with many
“ One moment, sir,” said Reuben Cul
pictures, and the ceiling paneled and wick, with grave politeness.
“ A mis
massive, with ground glass in the panels, take parted us, and we are laying the
for the proper transfusion of light on foundation o f another already, unless I
Mr. Simon Culwick'* “ collection.* When explain the first."
Simon Culwick had lost his son Reuben,
“ Go on."
he had taken to the “ masters," ancient
“ I was hardly twenty-one— a rash and
and modern, ami given them all the love foolish young fellow— when you wanted
that was in his heart.
me to marry your friend’s daughter."
But it was not at the paintings which
“ You would have been rich— you would
enriched the walls that Reuben Culwick have been respected— it would have been
gazed with so much of curious earnest for the best."
ness, but at the big broad-faced mail sit
“ I refused to entertain the proposal, if
ting before the fire in a capacious loath you remember."
ern chair, ami who was looking curiously
“ Remember! remember It!" cried the
and steadily at him. There was a pret father, turning pale with anger; “ do you
ty, fair-haired young woman, in gray t ilk. rake this up again to insult me?"
sitting at the table in the recess o f a bay
“ No, to enlighten you," said the other;
window, reading, and Reuben was con “ at that period, Mr. Culwick. I had prom
scious o f her presence—that was nil. She ised my mother that I would not marry
rose not at his entrance, only looked to the lady."
#
ward him with a certain degree of curb
oslty as he advanced.,and then turned
C H A P T E R III .
to* the pages of her hook as he held his
The effect * of Reuben Cnlwfck’s an
hand out to his father.
nouncement upon his father was remark
“ So you have thought of me at last, able. The big man rose from kis chair
have you?” was rolled out in n gruff bass, with his two large hands clenched, and
as a large, white gouty-looking hand was his face o f a deep purplish hue, and
placed in that of his son.
glared at his son in speechless wrath.
“ St) 1 bare come back at last," answer Then he sank slowly and heavily into his
ed Reuben Culwick.
seat again, and panted for awhile. The
“ You can sit down,*’ said the father.
dark coloring left the face, hut the bushy
“ Thank you," said the son.
black brows retained their lower curves
This was the meeting after five year»' over the eyes, and the mouth was hard
absence— the calm after the great storm and fixed, until the lips parted Rlightly to
which had happened in that house five allow a few words to escape.
years ago. This was the home that the
“ And this is the first time you tell me
son had never liked, and that he felt he that you were in league with your moth-
y
did not like now, although he had come
to it of his own free will. There was
‘Y es." answered Reuben, politely. “ I
a pause, during which each man took was a willful lad who had not been
stock of the other without any particu brought up well or looked after carefully,
lar reserve.
and I hnd been only taught to fear you.
“ I got your letter," said the father, My mother, who had been separated from
“ and I might have sent the carriage for you for some years, I was learning to re
you hnd It not rained so much."
spect then. When we quarreled, I went
“ The horses might have caught cold in to take care o f her as well ns 1 could. 1
stead o f me," saitl the son dryly; “ hut I was with her when she died."
didn’t want the carriage. I was glad that
“ You know how I hated your play-act
1 had not further to go last night thau ing mother—how she hated me. W h y do
W orcester."
you tell me that you aided with her. when
H e looked toward the lady in the bay it would be so much the better policy to
window at this juncture, and his father keep this to youraelf?" said the father,
noticed the wandering gaze, and paid no bitterly.
attention to the hint which it conveyed.
“ Because I am not afraid o f yon any
“ W ell, what have you been doing? longer— because I see now where you
W hat do you propose doing now that you were wrong."
are here? I suppose, after all that has
And you expect me to forgive this de
passed, you have no intention o f sitting ceit. as old men do at the end o f a play?”
down in the house and waiting compla- j
“ Or toward the end o f their live«," add
cently for my death ami my money?" the ed Reuben.
father Inquired.
“ I>on*t talk to me o f the end o f my
“ You told me that l should never have life.” he cried; “ I dare say yon hare
a penny o f yonr money, if you remember, thought enough of it— hare considered
sir. I have never expected it after that that it would be as well to sink your
day.” aaid Reuben Culwick.
cursed pride and your ourseder temper,
“ W h y should you?" said Mr Culwick and comm here In prodigal-son fashion.
In a loud tone o f voice, ami yet without But it won’ t do; I ’ m not a man to be
betraying any passion. “ Have 1 been hoodwinked in*that way."
known in all my life to break my word ?
“ I am not sorry to have seen you, fath
H as not sticking to ray word, through er," said Reuben, rising; “ I came out of
thick and thin, in evil report and good j mv way— a long way out o f it— to reach
Worcester. I am glad to find you well.
Good day.*
H e extended his hand again, but this
time his father refused to take it.
“ You have come out o f your way to
give me a fresh wound, that’s all,” said
the father, sullenly, “ aud you have done
It effectually. I don’t want you to trou
ble nie again. You will not come here
again at my invitation. I can’t forgive
you— why should I?
I never forgave
anybody. I never forgave your mother.
I Your two aunts offended me years ago,
' you know. H ave I ever forgiven them?
One died last summer, and I wouldn’t
. . i d b , Children.
go to see her— wouldn’t go near her— and
i the other one is in St. Oswald's alms-1 “ l i your new nurse French or Oer-
| houses, blind as a bat, and living on man?” asked the visitor. “ I link her'»
eight shillings a week. Eight shillings a bwoken English.” replied S-year-otd
1 week, and those pictures there cost me
Margie.
eighty thousand pounds."
_______________
_ __
_ _______
A good
investment,"
said
Reuben __
Cul- | Come, H a rry," said his mother, “ It’s
ick, coolly, and critically looking round time all good little boys were in bed
But, mamma." rejoined the little fel
the walls; “ they will increase in value
year by year, sir.
low, “ you said I was naughty to-day,
As he looked round he became aware, so that lets me out."
for the fir/t time, that the lady in the bay
“ Mamma.’’ queried little 4-year-old
window had disappeared. She hnd pass
Mabel, “ was papa related to us before
ed from the room silently, through a sec
“ Cer
ond door at the extremity o f the picture he married Into our fam ily?"
tainly not, dear," was the reply. “ Oh,
gallery.
“ And I never gave her a penny in my then we Jnst adopted him, didn’t we,
mamma?" continued the small miss.
life," added Mr. Culwick, senior.
“ Poor old Sarah— blind is she? and in
L ittle Dorothy was visiting In the
the almshouse, too! I am sorry. I liked country last summer and, seeing a
old Sarah," said Reuben; “ she was one black, red and white calf In the bam,
of the few friends I had when I was a
she ran to her mother and said: “ Oh,
boy, and when you were not rich. But I
am detaining you, and I am pledged to mamma, come out to the barn and see
reach London to-night. Good by again." the cute little cow with a calico skin."
Mamma— Johnny, do you know what
When he had reached the door, Simon
Culwick called out his name, and Reu day to-morrow w ill be? Johnny— Yes,
ben paused and turned.
mamma; my birthday. Mamma— And
“ I am not deceitful." said the father, w hat would you like for the occasion?
“ and I may as well tell you that I have Johnny (a fte r a pause)— I ’d like to see
made my will, and that you will never
our schoolhouse bum down.
be a penny the better for it. It is all left
— all," he added, “ away from au unduti-
To Make M iniatu re Toy*.
ful son."
W ith scissors for tools and paper
There was a moment’ s pause, and then and toothpicks to take the place of
Reuben Culwick quitted his father’s pres
ence and closed the door after him. Ho lumber and beams, boys and girls can
went from the room into the corridor, and
thence along its entire length to the din
ing room, where he threw himself into a
chair with so thoughtful a mien that he
was not for the moment aware that the
young lady in gray silk whom he hnd seen
the bay window was stepping back
from the big fleecy mat at the door, to
allow o f his egress. When he saw her,
she put her finger to her lips, and he
repressed an exclamation o f surprise.
“ Go back," she said, with an excite
ment that astonished him; “ don’t give
up— don’t leave him like that— it’s your
last chance."
You have been listening," said Reu
ben, coldly.
“ T o every word," was the honest con
fession; “ and you have not said a word
to please him, and much to offend. Why
did you come, if in no better spirit than
this? Go back to him. Tell him how
sorry you are for everything— do some
thing before you go that will leave be
hind a better impression," she urged
again.
“ No, I can’t go back."
M ADE OF P A P E R
“ You are as hard as he is," she cried;
as if it mattered what you said to him
— as if it were not worth a struggle to get lots o f fun by making little ob
regain your position here!"
Jects. T o make a chair, cut the figure
Grasping her wrists, while her hands
covered her face to hide it from his fierce (a) tw ice out o f a cardboard or a
gaze, Reuben exclaimed in a wondering playin g card.
W h ere the design Is marked by dots,
tone. “ Who are you?”
“ Only the housekeeper, sir.” she said, bore small holes and stick the ends of
quaintly; “ keeping house for Simon Cul toothpicks through them, allow ing only
wick— and in your place. You should the extrem e ends to stick out, and the
hate me ns a usurper already," Bhe add chair Is ready (b). T h e same w ay you
ed, mockiugly, “ if you had any spirit m
can m ake a cradle (c).
you."
“ The housekeeper— yes— but-----** he 1 A double ladder (d), a rdeking-ehalr
said w’onderingly. and without regarding (e). a stretcher (f). a push-cart (g), a
her strange taunts. “ I was not aware sleigh (h), a wagon (1), a house (k), a
— "
i bench (ml, can be made by the same
“ W hy should you be aware of anything sim ple means.
.
about me, you who are ns quarrelsome i A table (n) la made by bending a
and strange ns your father, and have
square piece o f cardboard, as shown In
kept away so long? There, go home and
think of the best way to bring that old ths picture, and Inserting four tooth
picks Into the tw o places where the
man to his senses."
“ And interfere with your chance," said paper Is bent under.
Reuben, lightly. lie was in better spir- | A basket la made ant o f a round ring
its already, and the odd manner of this or a square (r and a) and a smaller
young lady interested him.
round or square piece o f cardboard, as
“ I have no chance," she answered, “ or shown In the Illustrations.
I should not be very anxious for you to
get back.
I should be too selfish— I
Cat Id r f n ’, r.n n M .
should try and keep you away, being as
Children are Instinctive conserva
fond o f money ns your father is.”
tives. They play the old games and re-
“ I hardly believe this."
“ Mr. Reuben Culwick can believe ex
actly what he pleases," said the young
P O E T S IN T H E P O O R H O U S S .
lady, spreading out her skirts and mak
ing him a very low obeisance, which he A R a t h e r P a t h e t i c P u r e . . t o n e f t h e
felt bound to return, after which be
W o r t h o f R i v a l V e r s e S in k e r s .
would have continued the conversation
In no country Is there among the
had she not darted out of the door and
poorest and least educated a greater
disappeared.
love o f poetry than In Ireland; no
(T o be continued.)
where are the poets o f the people held
W h at They Fluid.
longer or more ferven tly In remem
Penelope— Charley called last night.
brance. Lady G regory tells a charac
Justine— T h a t’s tw ice in a week, Isn't teristic anecdote o f a discussion which
It?
she henrd between tw o o f the aged,
Penelope— Y es.
toil-worn, poverty-stricken Inmates o f
Justine— I suppose he’ll come three Oort Workhouse concerning the rival
times In the next week?
m erits o f tw o peasant bards o f sixty
Penelope— T hat's what my brother years ago— R aftery and Calllnan.
says.
The partisan o f Calllnan declared
Justine— And six times the next?
that he had been a more respectable
Penelope— T h at's what aunty says.
kind o f man, owning a little farm of
Justine— And seven times the next?
hla own and Ills own cattle; moreover,
Penelope— T hat's what papa says.
that he had more settled and respecta
Justine— And then what?
ble w ays; also, that he w as more good-
Penelope— Then w e 'll get married; natured, and did not lash Ills neighbors
that’s what everybody says.
with satire; finally, that he was a bet
Justine— And then what?
ter poet, anyw ay, and that R aftery,
Penelope— Then I sha'n't see him any the blind, wandering rimester. admit
more o f an evening: that's what mam ted It by avoiding any encounter with
ma says.— B altim ore Sun.
him, and once wept with chagrin when
Little
Stories
and
Incidents that Will
Interest and Enter
tain Young Readers I
peat the old rhyme, century « ft e r cen-
tury, with little If «n y variation,
Blind man s buff, for « » “ >
survival o f the rites pMjiUar
___
worship o f Odin, the sightless deity—
Is played to d a y exactly aa It was
played 2.000 years ago.
So. too. la “ tag,” which was original
ly a fragment o f a aucred pantomime,
or miracle play, portraying the old, old
story o f Diana and her nympha.
in "London Bridge la broken down”
we are treated to the entire ritual o f
the foundation sacrifice, that wide
spread. hideous custom, which decreed
that a living child must be sacrificed
to the god o f the structure ere It could
be expected to stand firm
....___ .
First, It will be remembered, t
children urge alternative measures.
" London Bridge Is broken down.” cry
the two leaders, standing from an arch,
hands elasned so as to form an arch,
nanas ciaspeu, so
beneath w h Th the other lltt i. player.
race, as i f in dread.
"Build It up with bricks and mor
tar,” is the reply.
"Bricks and mortar wUl mold away.”
"Build It up with penny loaves—
with gold and sliver— set a man to
watch all day— set a dog to bark all
night," aud the rest o f It.
Mrs. Anderson, a prominent
society woman of Jacksonville,
Fla., daughter of Recorder of
Deeds, West, sa y s:
“ There are but fe w w lvee end
mothers w h o have n ot at tim es en
dured agonies and such pain as only
women know of. I w ish such women
knew the value q f L y d ia K. P ln k -
h u iu ’ s V e g e t a b l e Coiii|»«>tin d. It
is a remarkable m edicine, differen t in
action from any o th er 1 e ver knew and
thoroughly reliable.
* I have seen cases w h ere women
doctored fo r years w ith ou t permanent
benefit
_______ who w ere cured in less
__________
than
y , ree months a fte r ta k in g your Vege-
table Compound, w h ile others who
were chronic and incurable came out
cured, happy, and in perfect health
...... _ » a . ,.). tr u irn s n i
.a .us.
^ ^ T h f v . « v ^ T t m
,^
m yself
| without ga in in g g re a t benefit. A
few doses restores m y stren gth and
appetite, and tones up the entire
system. Your m edicine has been tried
ami found true, hence I fu lly endorse
tt.” — M bs . K. A. A x u k r so n . 225 Wash
ington 8t., Jacksonville. F la .— fsooo
f t l t I f original o f abooo taatlmoalal proving gone-
neot cannot bo proaucoO.
t
T h e ' experien ce and testim ony
o f some o f the most noted women
o f A m erica g o to prove, beyond
a question, th a t L y d ia E. P in k -
ham’s V egeta b le C om pound w ill
| correct all such trou b le a t once
b y rem ovin g t h e cause, anil re
s t o r in g th e organs to u health/
auil norm al condition.
"Does your daughter’ s husband love
her as devotedly as ever?” “ H e does
when I'm around," replied her daugh
ter’ s husband's mother-in-law, grimly,
— Houston Pont.
Mother« w ill And Mr«. W in dow 's toothing
Svrup the best remedy to u«e for their children
i£>e leeth ln i mmols .
The Anxious M other—A re you sure
my son has appendicitis? T h e Emi
nent Specialist—W e can te ll you bet
ter, madam, a fte r
the
operation. ~
Life.
A N D T O O TH P IC K S .
T o Break la N ew Shoes.
Always shake In A llen 's Foot-Kase, s powder.
Then, lastly, the hands are unclasp It cures hot, sweating, aching, sw ollen feet.
Cures corns, ingrow ing nails and bunions. At
ed, the “ arch” falls, catching one o f all druggists and shoe stores, 2.V. Don't accept
the players— preferably a little girl— any substitute Sample mailed FREE. Address
Allen ». Olmsted, U Roy, N. Y.
In Its mock descent, after which all the
children shout In unison.
“ Hurrah:
” D1s world ala t square,” grow led
Hurrahl N ow ’tw ill last for aye and a little Mickey. "W h y not?” Hsked Jim
day, with a fa ir lady."— Pearson's my. “ 'Cause the only ones dat get
W eekly.
free peanuts are elephants and police
men."—Chicago News.
L i t t l e S leep y - Head.
Oh, plenHe, will some wise person say
Which is the really proper way
For mother's little sleepy-head,
To get each morning out of bed?
For often when
As sister combs
She says "Oh,
head,
“ You’ve got the
Piso's Cure Is s good cough medicine.
I t has cured coughs aftd colds for forty
years. A t druggists, 25 cents.
H e—I'd like to meet Miss Bond. She
I cry and pout.
—W hy? “ I hear she has th irty thou
my tangles ont.
sand a year and no Incumbrance.” "I s
Hose," and shakes her she looking for one?” —L ife .
wrong way out of bed!”
I've tried both right and left foot first,
I'm not quite sure which Is the worst;
But was it not uukiud of Ned
To bid me “ fall out on my head?”
Ho. please. If some one really knows.
Just send a line— my name Is Rose,
At mother's house I always stay,
And our old postman knows the way.
r iT Q Permanentiy un rea. ito ftt« or nervo
i l i o after flrst dBy’suseofDr.Kline’ sGreat Nervs
Rettorer. Send for F r e e U t trial boitle and treatlse.
Dr. R. H. Kit ne, I.Ul Wl Arcb St . i ’hlladelphl*. P *
The Masculine Theory.
W ife— I wonder w hy the fashions
for women change so often?
Husband— Probably for the purpose
of enabling them to correspond w ith
the feminine mind, m y dear.
Horrible Thought.
H ere’s an astrologer w h o predicts
msn that would go out his own back
door and make a poem about the four that K in g Edward is shortly to pass
quarters o f the earth. I tell you, you through a lot of trouble, a dark clond
would stand In the snow to listen to hanging over the em pire. Some hor
rible calam ity, don’ t you know.
Calllnan!”
I ’ ll bet Alfred Austin is w ritin g an
But Just then, Lady Gregory records,
a bed ridden old woman, who had not other ode.— Life.
Joined in the discussion at all, "sud
denly sat up in bed and began to sing
R aftery’s love song, 'Bridget Vesach' I
(Courteous Brldgeti. This she contin-1
tied as long as her breath lasted; so j
the last word was for him, after all.”
ABSOLUTE
SECURITY.
R ig Tusk to Sweep Floor.
It Is enough to blister one's hands
Just to contemplate the Job that con
fronted the men who swept the floor
o f the mammoth palace o f agriculture
at the St. Louis world’ s fair. When
the contractors finished their work all
that remained to be done was to
sweep the floor. It never dawned on
anyone how great the task was. Cald
well & Drake, the contractors, ordered
a dozen brooms and set tw elve men to
work. When night came their Inroads
on the twenty-three acres o f
floor
S u i t B e a r S ig n a t u r a o f
some satiric verses on his rival were space were scarcely noticeable. They
M ild ly Rebuked.
“ Didn't you say that It was going to answered to overw helm ing effect by Increased the force next day to fortv
the riv a l’s brother, also a poet.
rain to-day?"
men and ordered UK» brooms. These,
The aged champion o f R aftery (real forty men worked ten days before the
I d id ." answered
the
weather
ly
the
more
gifted
poet
o
f
the
two)
big
floor was thoroughly swept.
proph et
Ses Fsc-Slmlt. Wrapper M e w .
But there hasn't been s sign o f reluctantly admitted that he "would
Som etim e«.
run people down, aud was someways
moisture.”
r * » am en s s < aa «
Sunday School Teacher - Bobby
I am p erfectly aw are o f the fact. A ll b itte r"; but he, too. was kind at heart;
I could do was to offer the best opinion and she Instanced the pretty Incident where do good people go when they |
die?
FOR READACRb
on the subject that I could arrive at. I f o f the m arriage o f a poor servant lad
Bobby (glibly)— T o heaven.
FOR DIZZINESS.
I could accurately foretell events. I and lasa “ that was only a marriage
till R
aftery ---------
chanc- 8nnday School Teacher— Yes. that la
V
---------
should quit w ork in g for a salary and and not a wedding
FDR RIUOUSRESts
A “ d if a pereon who Is wicked
make a fortune In the stock m arket."— ed to coine In; and he made It one." |
FOR TORPID LIVER.
composing a grand song descriptive o f * " th* W ,T through dies, where doe.
W ashington Star.
FOR CONSTIPATIOR.
a noble feast, calling In the neighbors “ ®
So T h o u g h t fu l.
FOR SALLOW SHIR.
Bobby—T o the police station —
She—There, dear, haven't I been ta hear it. turning the occasion Into a
FOR THECOMPIEXIOR
festival,
and
finally
taking
up
a
con
Home
Companion,
thoughtful o f you and unselfish?
U I Ï I » W » r WAV* tkOWATVWt. _
trtbntlon from each guest, and bestow
H e—Hoar?
T fc f t u i ; d m i
A man who boasts o f being able to
in g the generous result on the happy
"W h y , I kept all these bills o f mine
areompUah more In one day than any
and astonished pair.
C U R E SICK H E A D A C H E .
aw ay from you until the middle o f the
But the partisan o f Calllnan was not other man can In 1 week never has
m onth!"
silenced. "1 tell you." said she. em occasion to do I t
T o see what la right, and not to do It, phatically. “ Callinan was a nice man
I f » m e men knew as much as they
Is want o f courage, or o f principle.— and a nice neighbor. R aftery wasn't
e t t i* « N U I A ll l i s t f A lii.
E
Confucius.
fit to put beeida him. Calllnan was t £ L kJ V ™<7<’lopedla would h av. ¿
,
from business.
Genuine
Carter's
Little Liver Pills.
CARTERS
m
3 E - J m W , H ; E U B l
•» » '>a*h Syrup. ra»t«w G o»d. U «*
io tiro«, to ld by d n iQ t«tA
I