Newspaper Page Text
FOURTH PAGE
THE SUNNY SOUTH
MARCH 18, 1905.
.*. Short Stories by Famous Authors
15he Power of a Word
*
* —
By CLARA MORRIS.
Copyright, 1904.
OW for justice’s sake let
me say right here, at the
ginning, that when I first
recognized the value of a
word, I was wearing my
hair in tails, my skirts
were short, and on every
week-day I was compelled
to don that humiliating
garment, a white apron.
In old woman's parlance
I was “a slip of a thing
of twelve risin’ thirteen.”
So should the impulse
Mize you to hurl anathema upon me,
•ay excusingly instead, it was a sin of
her youth, she was only "twelve risin’
thirteen.”
In my little-girl days 1 was intensely
and happily religious. True, some two
or three preachers had been making me
feel that my particular brand of religion
was rather foolishly simple and easy to
understand, for I knew naught, you see,
of sect or dogma, of articles of faith
and hadn't even heard that the churches
of Jerusalem, of Alexandria* and of
Antioch had erred. Predestination or
transubstantiation would have been
Greek to me; I only loved tenderly, rev
erently the brave, all-enduring, all-par
doning Christ; honestly believing His
simple, direct and positive words wore
enough to save a dozen worlds. Today
I might cry with that distracted father
Ir. the Testament: “Lord, I believe, help
Thou mine unbelief!”—but then, being
only “twelve risin' thirteen” there was
no unbelief about it—there could be none!
Naturally then I had the Sunday school
habit, beyond hope of cure; had acquired
it even before I was entrusted with the
care of my own handkerchief; while yet
It was pinned securely to my dress skirt.
In such a way as to make it useless for
legitimate service; and an anxious parent
In placing the missionary penny in my
hand would finally remind me: “Now
don't get lost—see that you watch for
and pass the engine house, and turn at
the big red building with blue paper
window shades—turn to the left going,
the side your sash is tied on. Then
ooming back, when you see the blue
paper shades, turn to the side your
handkerchief's on.”
These were complicated directions, and
I had my verses to recall, and my cop
per penny to .guard, and my still tittle
skirt to protect from smirch of any
kind, and many small troubles of my
own. But they were all forgotten, once
1 was inside the Sunday school—and
oh, that dearest teacher! I do not know
her name; through all these long years
she has lived in my memory, simply as
the "Pinky Teacher,” because she had
pink flowers Inside her bonnet. They lit
up all the gray old basement room, and
she had bright blue eyes, that fairly
danced sometimes, when she had loos
ened our shyly silent tongues and set
them wagging. She answered little girls’
questions, too, though tlierq were times
when she used to pass her handkerchief
slowly over her face, before she an
swered mine. I couldn’t guess why-»-and
she used to kneel down, and very low,
say a prayer for her class before dis
missal time. We were over in a corner
and she did things quite her own way.
the Sunday school were mercenary and
even meretricious to a degree; they being
blight and attentive just before Christ
mas and filled with touching zeal at
picnic season, but flailing into utter in
difference between times; while their lead
er, Tommy Britton, had been guilty of
mismanagement of church funds, hav
ing diverted to the service of his “gang”
many coppers intended for the comfort
of the heathen. And I, who had many a
time scan him fire the first spltball at the
crown of Mrs. Bristow's bonnet, dared
not turn my head lest I should feel
the ping of one beneath tlio brim of my
hat.
A hymn brought them to their feet, and
I noticed they sang it nearly through
without looking at their books—they liked
singing.
Then I made a plunge. I said I would
hear them recite their verses, and pre
tended 1 had nut noticed either Jimmy
Hill’s assurance that “I wouldn’t hear
him say no verses, 'cause he didn’t know
any,’’ nor the general giggle that fol
lowed.
1 asked where the lesson was; and lit
tle Tommy Britton sniffed and said: “A
—aw she knows,” unj I leaped over the
three great crosses and the weight of
agony they bore! Of the tortured, nail-
torn flesh, of the burning sun, the mad
dening thirst, of tho intended shame and
degradation to our dear Lord—the in
nocent one. who had helped the poor and
cured the sick, and been very patient
with the rich and insolent, and very
tender of little children; and whom they
placed in mockery between two sinners,
wicked men, who had broken laws and
stolen and lied and maybe killed. Thieves
they were, but now they suffered cruelly,
and though they were rougner, stronger
men than the innocent One between them,
they couid not bear their torture without
loud cries and groans and sometimes
wicKcd words, great swearing words the
pain wrung from them. While the gen
tle Christ who had yet another torment
to bear—and here I had to swallow back
my rising tears—in that crown of strong
sharp thorns, that so pierced His sacred
head at every movement, that He—that
He— In my pause a small hand was
clawing at my skirt, and a strained boy-
isn voice stammered anxiously; “W-w-
why, wasn't he game?”
In itlie shock of that dreadful word 1
recoiled physically from its irreverence,
an>J my eyes fell upon a row of atten
tive faces; and In that insisteoit, claw
ing little hand, In the eager questioning
eyes of Tommy, there 'was a tense in
terest and no irreverence at all. Like
lightning I thought: to correct him now
for that shocking word will break Uhe
partition, between the pews and asked charm of his interest and throw him back
on the fat little legs—” “Don't!" gasp
ed Tommy—but I went on—“you would
know quite well that he really deserved
the whipping alter being warned so many
times, yet you wouid go to your mother
and beg of her to let you take the whip
ping from him?” He nodded vigorously.
“Though you don’t like whippings, you
would ask to bear it for your little
brother, because you—notice this. Tommy
—you would say to yourself, ‘When
brother sees wliat I am standing and
taking for him, he will know how 1 love
him, and—and,’ are you listening. Tommy
Britton?—he will be ashamed ever to dis
obey mother again. You would do all tha.t
foi little Curly-Head, wouldn’t you?”
He nodded. “Yet ho would be guilty and
you Innocent.”
■He looked up quickly—his eyes were
wide and bright: “Do yer mean”—he
hesitated. “Was that why He let ’em
put Him on the big cross, when He was
God's Son all the time, 'cause—’cause—?”
“Yes, because people were so wicked,
God’s patience was all ■ worn out, but
our Savior loved them and pitied them
so, that He begged to come and try to
make them better, and they wouldn't
understand, and so rather than give
them up, He died for them.”
“He must have cared a hull lot?”
“He did,” I answered.
“Well, He can't be hurted now!” he
said with evident satisfaction, giving a
little hitch to his shoulders.
“Oh, ves. Ho can!” I contradicted.
“W-what?” a look of utter blank
amazement came into his face.
fou are little yet, but you can hurt
old Mrs. White—who wore steel-rimmed 1 mortified and sullen u*pon his impish sell. 3< ? can L ^ e ^^t Him,
spectacles and a gray mustache— where
the lesson was, and was told with a con
descending “well, my suz” manner;
“John—chapter II” and she “guessed
Mrs. Bristow had pushed and plodded
to about the 34th verse.”
Better a temporary acceptance of the sit
uation with correction later on, I decided.
■So 1 answered: T- Yes—oh, yes—He was—
was very, very brave.”
1 sjw a clouding in the uplifted eyes
an I and realized then and there the power of
! < l word. I drew one hard breath, and
While I was turning the leaves of my
Bible, an open row broke out and two
I boys struggled violently to change places,
j I knew in a moment what that meant:
| Mrs. Bristow had allowed .them to re-
I cite each one verse, beginning at one
j end and working down the line A and the
i shortest verse in the Bible occurred in
; this lesson—hence these lambs were tear-
j lug the wool off each other’s backs to se
cure the position that would give one
! of them the coveted “Jesus wept” verse.
I laid down my Bible and grabbed by
the back of itheir necks the wrestling
pair. As 1 .jerked them apart, I said:
“You can fight on Monday till you can't
see, but in Sunday school you'll behave
yourselves. Now sit down where you
were!”
“Naw,” they responded simultaneously,
while each kicked at my shins. Then 1
caught and seated one of tiiein on the
uncushioned bench with a crack that
made the rest wriggle sympathetically—
while the party of the second part seated
himself hastily.
Then we began—oh, such recitation,
prompted, pushed!—Tommy, the dreadful,
was the only one who really knew a
verse or two-and such heartbreaking In
difference. They sat way down on their
shoulders, ar.j gazed dully about the
room, or hooked their little fingers in
the corners of their mouths and stretch
ed them at nervous small girls across
the aisle. Then I began to question them
about the meaning of the verses. The
bey who had recited “Jesus wept,” couid
only say* “Dunno!” to all questions. I
passed on to Tommy: “Why had Jesus
wept?” After crossing his eyes at the
boy who had failed, he answered: “Why,
wasn't he sorry for that feller, that Laz
arus. that was dead—er-er for them peo
ple that was—er eryin’ about him in the
grave yard?”
I felt the blood rush to my cheeks and
impulsively I exclaimed: “Tommy Brit-
used It: “Oh,” I faltered, “He was
more igamo’ in His suffering far us, tlhan
was any soldier w\o ever lived and died,
before or since in 'the whole world!”
Color rose in the lad's face—he drew a
long deep breath: “Ain’t you glad? that
—that was ’cause TTe was God, wasn’t
it? But say— (with frowning troubled
brows'), what made Him do it?”
“Oh, Tommy, you iknow quite well why
our Lord died!”
Tommy ignored my words—he went on
(kicking his cif'per toes viciously against
•the seat In front of him: “Say, what
did He let ’em citpie and hurt Him like
tlna-t for, when He was so good? If He
tcould mak.0 that Lzaarus come alive
ag’in. He could make a lot of them sol
dier fellers dead, couldn't He?”
“Bet He could!” said Jimmy’ Hill, and
waglged his round head appreciatively.
“And they ought to have got It, too,”
added Tommy, “an 5 then He could have
up in heaven, when we forget to love
Him—when we make Him feel that He
suffered for nothing.”
“A-ah, that’s mean!” said Tommy.
“Say, I’m goln’ to learn a lot of verses
for next Sunday, and I'm goin’ ter bring
my boy cousin with me, and I won’t
keep back no more pennies neither.”
Then I asked: “Where would you like
to have your lesson next week?” but
the boys squirmed and left the choice to
me.
“Say 1 ” called the red-headed boy, “I’m
cornin’ in your class next time, where I
can hear the stories.”
“If yer do I'll kick yer shins!” an
swered Tommy. “Keep yer own teacher,
this one is ourn!”
I selected the Sermon on the Mount
for next Sunday's consideration. Books
were given out—a hymn was roared—
the contributions taken up—a few stam
mering remarks were made by the super
intendent, and I went calmly forth
from my labors, as a Sunday school
teacher, little dreaming of the fine work
the enthusiastic Tommy was to get in
on me, ere the sun went down.
Tommy had never paused, but hlppity-
hopped homo, an made his excited report:
“Say, ma. Mis’ Bristow’s moved away,
gone away with tlie ones He was good | so she can’t be teacher no more!”
friends with, and—and—not died tfp there I “My suz! I’m sorry, she was a nice
(his lips were really trembling), on that | Christian woman—though not fond of
—ithat great—thing. Anyway, I wouldn’t i lendin’ things. I s’pose old Mrs. White |
a done it—and (defiantly) I don’t see why j took on her class, erlong with her own?” j
He wanted to nutiher.” j “Not much she didn t! Mr. Blakely j
I 'parsed my handkerchief over my I give us a bully teacher! She ain t a
damp and corrugated brow and suddenly • grown-up; she s that Carrie, thats stay-
recalled my Pinky-Teacher’s action, j in ,’ M * 3 ’ Mason.”
“Oh,” l thought, “surely I never, never , , l’' or land s sake, cried Mrs. Britton. ■,
asked her such tormenting questions, as j Whatever can she know bout Bible |
do these—er ‘hopes of the future’ ask i st ndy and Sunday trainin.
.. I “I4llh ’ cm l hot ehn oa y> fxa.1'
of me.
Just then a. new voice ait my right said:
“Well, why c/d He want’er?” and there,
hanging toy his armpits over the pew
partition, was 'tlhe red-headed tooy of Mrs.
White’s class; who was craning his neck
in an effort to hear what was toeing said.
“A-a-ah, get off'en there”’ cried Jimmy j ^ii , ab ° Ut ^ f Say ’
ill ;;or I’ll chuck a hymn book at yer j Tommy^s ’ fulj repirt of the S,
H
head!
“Make him unhook hisself off that
rail!” entreated Tommy, “he’s stealln'
out lesson! Make him go back to his
own teacher!”
“A-ah,” complained the red-haired,
“she ain’t 'tailin’ us no stories!”
“Then what is she doin’ ?” asked a hith
erto silent boy.
“Why, losin her place and then huntin’
it up ag’in.
Huh! you bet she can tell you things
’bout them Bible doin’s—say, Ma, did you
know that the ground busted open and
big winds roared and folks were crazy
frightened, whjin it got all dark that
time, when they put up the three big
crosses? You did? Then why didn't
Ma, she
here
ornlng’s
doings; suffice it to say that the belief
firmly fixed in the appalled Mrs. Brit
ton's mind was thnt I had said, that
our Master was unhappy up in very
heaven—and that He, tne blessed one,
loved us because we were so bad, and He
didn’t want us whipped, though we knew
we ought to get it for our wickedness—
and final desecration, r had said, oh,
Tommy Britton!—I, mind you, had said,
that the Blessed Master was “game—
ton, go up head!” Ah, attention was
And 'those lovely prayers—so simple, so aroused at hist. Every one clambered up
trusting. As she went on, we began to j into a proper sitting position and watched
press up closer, and when she left the one] Tommy eagerly, who was saying doubt-
next to- her nestling up to her side she t fully, “I—I—don’t know which is head.”
would unclasp her bands and stretch one Neither did 1 know head from tail, but |
arm out over us. so that each felt her ■ j knew the mere changing of place as a (loving willingness to suffer t at_so
touch; and we were like so many chicks, (reward was having an effect, 30 I gravely
sheltered by a protecting mother. And pointed to the left corner of the pew, and
oh. how we did believe In and love the i Tommy occupied it, making faces of deri-
God she told us about! Dear Pinky j £ j OIlj as he passed, at his gang.
Teacher!—who knew how to open the eyes Just then came an unfortunate inter-
and hearts of little children to wondrous rU p(j 0 n to my labors. The superintendent
truths! ' addressed with much hem’ing and haw’-
HavJng thus acquired the Sunday
And then with the unbreakable tenacity j more game in dying for other people
of childhood they were back to the un- man all the soldiers in the whole world
ar !I T 'i® rei3 , question: W hy, etc- had been’” and with a screech Mrs, Brit-
Evidently I had too successfulUy^ im- | ton had declared her intention of flying
pressed my class with the purely pnjsicaj t0 tile xnlnister to report that sacrilegious
side of that -monstrous tragedy. il< w word ^ * b
could I bring to their childish minds one j j n m e meantime Tommy studied verses
faintest gleam of comprehension of that j dili'se'rVt'iyV"and Sunday"foGnd eight iambs
suames ; —1—
habit at that early age, it was p-i:
natural that at 12 1 should find a place
In the Sunday school nearest -’.t hand,
one established by a small and struggling
ins a reque.st to the teachers.
explain—that was to—er give a little talk
to their classes on the subject of the
crucifixion.
I faced my five small arabs. I glanced
and yet so thrills the heart of Humanity!
I looked thoughtfully at Tommy Britton,
for there was something alert about his
inquisitive nose and freckled eyes that
made me turn to him as the probable
leader of a crowd. Freckled eyes? Oh,
yes, you must have seen the like in
some boy; blue eyes, freckled thick, | dtrew
with small red-brown specks. Ugly?
to—er, to | (jf course; yet In Tommy's case dark
Methodist church it was. and as I sat in helipl6ssly over at Mrs. White. Her boys
my place one morning, gorged with verses
and primed with questions, the superin
tendent—a spare old man, who made some |
of the children think I10 had four eyes, j
because be invariably wore his spectacles
on the top of his bald bead—came tip- j
ping over to me, and touching me on the 1
shoulder, said: “Carrie”—for the name j
Clara was not in favor with old fashioned!
people, while the porrklgy Carrie was— I
t ,.t . ” , , , . + pins, or pull faces, or put their feet on
hence, Carrie—“I am just informed that ^ T
Mrs. Bristow has moved away. Her
lambs are without a leader (her lambs,
by the way, were generally known as
Mrs. Bristow's salawags), and I—er—er
lashes and swiftly dilating pupils soft
ened the ugliness wonderfully.
Slowlv I said:
“Tommy, if you were very, very fond
of some one now; perhaps, your mother,
or your father, or. maybe, of your—”
were not paying one bit of attention; but “A-ah," half jeeringly broke in Jimmy
she was already prosing away, telling 1 Hill, “he’s got a littler brother than
19th of the Book I him - and ye’ darsent so much as cross
eyes at lm.
them that at chapter
of St. John, they would find all about
the Crucifixion. That they must ask their
dear parents to read It to them—as she
was about to do now.
If I followed her example, I felt they
would dully doze off, or impishly stick
That’s all right,” ominously remarked
Tommy, “you ain’t tellln’ me of no other
little boy -that can put a marker on ’bn
anyway.”
“Is he pretty?" I asked, casually.
Tommy grinned—he sent a liatf embar
rassed. half threatening glance -toward
the other lambs, as he answered. “He’s
the bookrack in front of them. I asked a ! 0 rly so high,” measuring about the
head. 1
“Then lie must be very jwett'V’ I de
clared,, and Tommy’s face reddened.
"Well, now, suppose this little brother
had been told again and again not to
go into- the pantry and stf^-er—hook
few faltering questions—“I dunno.” was ; height of a family coffee pot. “And his
the inevitable answer. Almost 1 gave hair^ is yeiler and soft curly all over hla
up. Then I tried to talk a bit about the
think you are-c-r well competent, to-^r! seenery-the people surrounding that stu-
take them in hand. They are-er very Pendou* sacrifice, at which the world
juvenile, and-er, they are-well-just stop 1 shook - th « earth was ’ ren ,t a " d \ he Heav ;
over with me under I’ll place you as • fns darkened to midnight blackness. 1 ^ and teilies” m> went the backs
- , . , , . floret not look at their bored faces so I cookies ana jellies up vvuu ue unois
teacher, over these dear—er hopes of ”’ lrcd not loolc ac tnor D >rea laces> 1 ' nf several hands to hide guil’y grins—
the future;” and it did really seem that fixed my eyes upon the upper panes j -. an( j suppose he disobeyed, ai d ai last
things looked dark for the future, as, too! of ^ ugly unstained window. I was mother said, ‘The next time—since coax-
shy to protest against the honor and the - speaking only of externals, trying to lng and reasoning and, ^arni of the
authority thus thrust upon me, I sank into! win attention, as with colored primer j sickness that may come from eating too
the place formerly occupied by the buxom j pictures. I told of the dense crowds, of 1“^°^ me ' for ] ovc ! ' whv ' 'the
Mrs. Bristow. itlie fierce soldiers, of tlieir short broad- I you do wrong I .<hal‘l whip
As I waited for my heart to steady down j swords, of their long cruel spears, of you -’ ” Tommy shut his lips tight,
from its unpleasantly rapid action, my j cries and groans and laughter mixed. Of j “Then suppose the little brothei took
“lambs,” seated for the most part on those suffering women, kept afar off by itlie cake again and you knew your moth,
their shoulder blades, sized me up with, the soldier guards. I—yes I think I had twisted 1 about ii^his seat uncomfortably!
impudent, knowing eyes. Of respectable i forgotten my refractory small arabs ^ or ' “Then when the little brother got fright-
birt h and honest parentage, they were j a bit; I think I was talking a little to my I ene d, and turned very pale, and you
•mbs by instinct, and their relations with, j own moved self—when I told about the j thought of the whip making red welts
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j awaiting me—Tommy’s cousin having
brought a freckled friend, and the red- I
haired neighbor having boldly left his j
own class, to the displeasure of Mrs.
White.
The verses had been recited, and in !
some way I had come to mention the |
brothers. Simon called Peter, and An-
who were fishermen.
Tommy eagerly asked; “W-w-was they :
settin’ on spiles, while they fished?”
Of course, 1 knew where he got his idea
from. I had seen men often enough '
seaited on the Lake spiles—but Peter
and Andrew, grave and picturesque, with
their great broken nets—truly it was
hard not to laugh.
We were pleasantly surprised then by
the presence of the minister. He walked
about, and twice, yes, three times he
paused near my “lambs," and when we
raised our eyes he moved away quickly.
Mr. Blakely announced, stammeringly,
that he had to thank—yes, to thank our
young friend Carrie Cor so—er—kindly
helping them out, and—er—she would now
—er—he doubtless glad to—er—resume her
old place, and Mrs. White would now
strain a point, and combine the two
classes.
Silence fell. Then shrill and high came
Tommy’s voice: “We won’t come then—
no, we won’t—for she don’t tell us noth
ing!” ,
“The school is dismissed,” said the
minister, and we all turned to go. But
Tommy and Jimmy cast short, fierce
arms about my waist and clung des
perately.
"Say,” said Tommy, “can’t you set out
side on the front steps and give us our j
lessons; say, can’t you?”
Thus I even more fully realized the I
power of a word, for this one could not j
only move a child’s imagination and j
thrill his little heart, but it was strong i
enough to depose me from my high i
standing as teacher, and send me back !
to tutelage.
Soon after the theater loomed up large
In my pathway—the door was open—I
entered and worked long and faithfully.
At last I came back to the old home
city as a star. I stole away one day
to go and see my old-time friends, the
Masons. At table I met an elderly man,
whose name I did not catch—but whose
start when 1 spoke to him was quite !
visible. tt was soon evident that I !
worried him In some way. Suddenly his j
face cleared, and behind his napkin he
certainly laugHed.
"Carrie.” remarked shortly after my
hostess, “I don’t think you quite caught
oui friend’s name. It’s Harper.”
’’Is it?” I replied. "Well, what am
I to do with it? By Hie way, though,
you used to have a minister here when
I was still a child, by that name?”
“Same man,” said Mr. Mason, in a
whisper. “And lie says you used to
have a class in his Sunday school.”
“Yes. I remember.” I admitted; “but
he is changed greatly.
On rising from table our ministerial
friend joined us, and smilingly remarked
to me:
“Your eyes bothered me from the first,
but your voice settled the question «f
identity, though you have changed the
way of wearing your hair.”
“So have you.” I broke in, for he was
now quite bald and wore a long beard.
’’Ah.” he smiled, ‘you were very
young, but you were a good teacher of
small boys. Only that ‘word’ was
stronger than, tl was. Do you remember
it?”
“Game,” I pronounced with the tips of
my lips.
"Yes,” he sighed; “and I was not
game enough to stand by you, in a
very interesting experiment. Well, I
always felt you’d do something, some
time, but I never expected to see my
deposed Sunday school teacher twin
kling bravely as a star in the theatrical
firmament."
"Ah, but you see,” I smUed, "the
theater always gives swift and liberal
recognition to the power otf a word,
while you, sir,” I added, respectfully,
“both through loving preference and ool-
lcge training, care only for the power of
The Word.’ ••
A Catarrh Cure
THAT CURES
Millions of men, women and children suffer
the tortures of catarrh and have tried various
remedies without being* cured. The trouble
with nearly all so-called catarrh medicines is
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but merely afford a slight temporary relief
of most apparent symptoms. Many do not
even do this.
Catarrh is NOT a Blood Disease
and notfe of the patent nostrums claimed to
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destroying forever the very germs of the
This remedy is
dis
ease.
Total Eclipse
Catarrh Cure
(F .
It is a preparation that can be smoked in pipe
or in cigarette form and when so smoked cre
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TOTAL ECLIPSE CATARRH CURE.
The following letter is one of hundreds of
similar unsolicited testimonials that we are
constantly receiving.
Cincinnati, Ohio.
Eclipse Medicine and Manufacturing Co.,
Atlanta, Ga.
Gentlemen:—While in Chattanooga, Tenn., I pur
chased a package of your Total Eclipse Catarrh
Cure and gave it a trial. I have never used
anything that has done me so much good. I have
suffered with Catarrh and Asthma for a number
of years and am happy to say that Total Eclipse
has nearly cured me. I have recommended it to
several of my friends.
> Very respectfully yours,
H. M. DAVIS, 441 Vine St.
How You Can Secure a Sample of Total Eclipse Catarrh Cure
and Expert Medical Advice Absolutely Free.
Write the answer yes or no after each of the following ques
tions, sign your name and give address on lines as indicated
and mail to us at once :
Do you spit often t Do you have pains across your Do you sneeze often ?
Do crusts form In the noso ?
Are you losing the sense of small-
forehead ?
Do you have to clear your throat
j n8 j ot mucus upon rising ? ....
Do you have an offensive
is your hearing affeefed T
Does your mouth taste had morn,
lngst—
MAIL TO
ECLIPSE MEDICINE
& MANUFACTURING CO.
ATLANTA, GA.
dls-
ls your throat raw ?
Is your breath foul?
Are your eyes watery ?
charge from the nose ? Any pain above eyes ?.
Are you worse in wet weather?
Are you constipated ?
Signed
Do you catch cold easily?
Is your nose clogged ?
Post Office.
County or Street No StaU _