Newspaper Page Text
In 1 §
-4 . jr
■ • S i
North ;
1 i ATaUtof th«
Country in th« Tim*
Of Bilflfl Wright
.. ' .Sv
■
■ •r
_ BACHELLXR
*
?;< Uaa!< B*e?ste.
i
m •YNOBBff
. I—Barton hla Baynes, unala, Peabody orphan,
to with farm
*i Aunt Deel on a on
la
bunketberr, about hla own as*, but
ly fascinated of a class above tbe Bayneaee.
• by the pretty face
XI—Barton neighborhood meets , Boring
In I tbs Orimahaw, as the
t. Amos young
of in the homeland
at tbs Baynes
tells the fortune# of fsr tbs Bar- two
sad death ng a the bright gallows future for Amos,
on
roved for aa act Intending of boyish mako miaehief hla
runs away. to
rttb the m n k e l berga. ^XU reaches
an la ^SlhZ. publio affairs, Wrirhut who, knowing prom™
y Baynes, takes Barton borne af
in* him new clothes.
nr
! m 4 hear ffifau
a
ta and sends a box
--- SttM^rShT’to Is
senate announced.
V-When
he become* aware of the ox*
•of % wonderful “Moaey,” sad mysterious
era as and learns
w to the most powsr
ot I ttlers naa la tbe oom
to the Baynes being in home his
.A •e a note tar seeled en
Mch Barton a the
it to road on
t wfcon lie leaves home tO At
t
VI—Barton is
to mill, unable arrives safely, but
V * \ lata to
: x l the
the wseon Is broken. Uncle
Vn-Now^ fata sfctesntb
SJ i
with who S3 makes
a Stan a sun.
it
too
a stone
who
I l SLOES’ wilt nit gun stock WAS
oed for UU5
)W tee Is smstsd 0
of stronger.
briTTO wo un ding tbe murderer of the aBS? killed his to
The spumed. man
laa too msA Mar to
‘A 7*/ , •
CHAPTER X—Emissaries of Boa Grim
Deal sad tbo
"Old Is one of the party.
ikelberg • CHAPTER xn-Barton sad Bally Dun
formally pledge their troth.
CHAPTER Xm-Old Kate's attest but
unrelenting Its effect, pursuit and goaded of Old Ben beyond Grlmshaw
,naa endur
lsa“ aaoe, Grlmshaw dies as the "Hlient Worn
points at him.
CHAPTER “Roving XIV—Barton gets a letter
from tauneosely, Kate” which heartens him
doesn't understand although it at the time he
'boyhood CHAPTER XV—Barton moves from
jown into manhood, and chooses hla
road.
i of CHAPTER Biles XVI—He meets the mother
(Kate Fullerton, Wright, “Wandering and learns the story of
Kate. ■
ton CHAPTER XVII—Into a aenafor long way Bar¬
insight starts, Into and the with real things the of life. gets an
CHAPTER XVIII.
On the Summit
My mental assets would give me a
‘poor rating, I presume, in, the com¬
merce of modern scholarship when I
■went to Washington that autumn with
Senator and Mrs. Wright Still It was
no smattering that I had, but rather a
few broad areas of knowledge which
were firmly in my possession. My best
(asset was not mental but spiritual, if I
(may be allowed to say it, in all mod¬
esty, for, therein I claim no special ad¬
vantage, saving, possibly, an unusual
(strength at character In my aunt and
uncle. Those days the candles were
jail {lighting the tbe land. best trails Never ot knowledge
over has the gen
«ral spirit of this republic been so
ihlgli and admirable as then and a little
Slater. It was to speak, presently, In
<the Immortal voices of Whittier, Emer¬
son, Whitman, Greeley and Lincoln.
The dim glow of the candles had en¬
tered their souls and out of them came
a light that filled the land and was
seen of all men.
The railroads on which we traveled
from Utica, the great cities through
t hlch J Inspiration we passed, to me. were I a was wonder awed and by
the grandeur of Washington Itself. I
took lodgings with tbe senator and hte
(Wife. 9
“Now, Bart,” raid he, when we had
,ptttoed. fitere “I’m little going to turn you loose
for a while before I put har
on you. Go about for a week or
4*o and get the lay of the land and the
«f j t- Mrs. Wrig ht will be your
gnidh Ufitn
worked its way Into your
am."
It aed to me teat there was not
In mf for
the gnat public buildings and tbs pie
tuns and the statues and the vast ms*
chlnsry of the government Beauty
and magnitude have a wonderful ef¬
fect when they spring fresh upon the
virion, of a youth out of the back coun¬
try. i sang of the look of them In my
tetters and soon I began to think about
them and Imperfectly to understand
them. They had their epic, lyric and
dramatic stages In my consciousness. Sen¬
One afternoon we went to hear
ator Wright speak. He waa to an¬
swer Calhoun on a detail of the bank*
lag lawn. The floor and galleries were
filled. With what emotion I saw btm
rise and begin his argument as all eafs
bent to hear him t He aimed not at
popular sentiment* in highly finished
rhetoric, os did Webster, to be quoted
in the school boofls and repeat on
everyplatform. But no words of mine
—and I have used many in the effort
—are able to convey a notion of the
masterful ease and charm of his man*
ner on the floor of the senate or of the
singular modesty, courtesy, aptness
aqd simplicity of bis words as they
fell from. his lips. There were the
thunderous Webster, the grandeur of
vhose sentences no American has
equaled; the agile-minded Clay, whose
voice was like a silver clarion; the far
seeing, fiery Calhoun, of “the swift
sword”—most formidable In debate—
but I was soon to learn that neither
nor all of these men—gifted of heaven
so highly—could cope with the suave,
incisive, conversational sentences of
Wright, going straight to the heart of
the subject and laying it bare to his
hearers. That was what people were
saying aa we left the senate chamber,
late In tbe evening; that. Indeed, was
what they were always saying after
they bad heard bim answer an ad¬
versary.
He had a priceless and unusnal tal¬
ent for avoiding school-reader English
and the arts of declamation and for
preparing a difficult subject to enter
the average brain. The underlying se¬
cret of his power was soon apparent
to me. He stood a lways for that great
thing In America which, since then.
Whitman has called “the divine aggre
gate,” and seeing clearly how every
measure would be likely to affect Its
welfare, he followed the compass. It
had led him to a height of power
above all others and was to lead him
unto the loneliest summit of accom¬
plishment in American history.
Not much in my term of service
there Is Important did to this little task
of mine. I my work Well, If I may
believe tbe senator, and grew familiar
with the gentle and ungentle arts of
the politician.
One great fact grew In magnitude
find sullen portent as tbe months
passed: the gigantic slave-holding In¬
terests of the South viewed with grow¬
ing alarm the spread of >81)0111100 sen¬
timent Subtly, quietly and naturally
they were feeling for the means to de¬
fend and Increase their power. Straws
were coming to the surface In that
session which betrayed this deep un¬
dercurrent ot purpose. We felt it and
the senator was worried, I knew, but
held his peace. He knew how to keep
his opinions until tbe hour bad struck
that summoned them to service. The
senator never played with his lance.
By and by Spencer openly sounded tbe
note of conflict
The most welcome year of my life
dawned on the first of January. 1844.
I remember that I arose before day¬
light that morning and dressed and
went out on the street to welcome it.
I had less than six months to wait
for that day appointed by Sally. I had
no doubt that she would be true to me.
I had had my days of fear and depres¬
sion, but always my sublime faith In
her came back in good time.
Oh, yes, indeed, Washington vjas a
fair of beauty and gallantry those
days. I saw It all. I have spent many
years In the capital, and I tell you the
girls of that time had manners and
knew how to wear their clothes, but
again the magic of old memories kept
iny lady on her throne. There was
one of them—just one of those others
who, I sometimes thought, was almost
as graceful and charming and noble
hearted as Sally, and she liked me, I
know, but the ideal of my youth
glowed In the light of the early morn¬
ing, so to speak, and was brighter than
nil others. Above all, I had given my
word to Sally, and—well, you know,
the old-time Yankee of good stock was
fairly steadfast, whatever else may
be said of him—often a little too
steadfast, as were Ben Grlmshaw and
Squire Fullerton.
The senator and I went calling that
New Year’s day. We saw all the
great people and some of them were
more cheerful than they had a right
to be. It was a weakness of the time.
I shall not go Into details for fear of
wandering too far from my main road.
Let me step aside a moment to say,
however, that there were two clouds
in the sky of the Washington society
of those days. One was strong drink
nnd the other was the crude, rough
coated, aggressive democrat from the
frontiers of the West. These latter
were often seen in the holiday regalia
of farm or village at fashionable func¬
tions. Some of them changed slowly,
and by and by reached the stage of
white linen and diamond breastpins
and waistcoats of figured silk. It
must be said, however, that their mo¬
tives were always above their taste.
The winter wore away slowly iq
hard work. Mr. Van Buren came down
to see the senator one day from his
country seat on the Hudson. The ex
president had been solicited to accept
the nomination again. I know that
Senator Wright strongly favored the
lttUa *** toontd that the South would
at him te contention, It befog weS
known that Van Boren *u opposed to
-----Hon of Texas. However,
he advised his friend to make a fight
for the nomination and this the latter
1 to do. Thenceforward until
May I gave my time largely t#
the iting of letters for the senator
ta Buren’s behalf.
The time appointed for the cooven
tlon In Baltimore drew near. One day
TM
■
■
m,
K? K
t Qw
«•*'
v
-
I Took the Stage to Baltimore Next
Day.
the senator received an intimation that
he would be put in nomination if Van
Buren failed. Immediately he wrote
to Judge Fine of Ogdensburg, chair¬
man of the delegation from the north¬
ern district of New York, forbidding
such use of his name on the ground
that his acquiescence would involve dis¬
loyalty to his friend the ex-president
He gave me leave to go to the con¬
vention oq my way home to meet Sally.
I had confided to Mrs. Wright tbe de¬
tails of my little love affair—I had to
—and she had shown a tender, sympa¬
thetic interest in the story.
The senator had said to pie one day,
with a gentle smile:
“Bart, you have business in Canton,
I believe, with which trifling matters
like the choice of a president and the
Mexican question cannot be permitted
to interfere. Yon must take time to
spend a day or two at tbe convention
In Baltimore on your way. ... Re¬
port to our friend Fine, who will look
after your comfort there. The experi¬
ence ought to be useful to a young man
who, I hope, will havp work to dh In
future conventions.” „ *
X took the, stage to Baltimore next
day—the twenty-sixth of Msy. Tbs
convention thrilled me—the flags, the
great crowd, the bands, the songs, the
speeches, the cheering—I see and hear
It all In my talk. The uproar lasted
for twenty minutes when Van Boreo’s
name waa put In nomination. -
.
Then the undercurrent! The South
was against him as Wright had fore¬
seen. The deep current of Its power
bad undermined certain of the north¬
ern anff western delegations. Osten¬
sibly for. Van Buren and stubbornly
casting their ballots for him, they had
voted for the two-thirds rule, which
had accomplished his defeat before the
balloting began. It continued for. two
days without a choice. The enemy
8$ood firm. After adjournment that
evening many of the Van Buren dele¬
gates were summoned to a conference.
I attended it with Judge Fine.
The ex-presldent had withdrawn and
requested his friends in the conven¬
tion to vote for Silas Wright. My emo¬
tions can be more readily imagined
than described when I heard tbe
shouts of enthusiasm which greeted
my friend’s name. Tears began to roll
down my cheeks. Judge Fine lifted
his hand. When order was at last re¬
stored he began:
“Gentlemen, 88 a friend of tbe
learned senator and as a resident of
tbe county which is the proud pos¬
sessor of his home, your enthusiasm
has a welcome sound to me; but I hap¬
pen to know that Senator Wright will
not allow his name to go before the
convention.”
He Tead the latter of which I knew.
Mr. Benjamin F. Butler then said:
“When that letter was written Sena¬
tor Wright was not aware that Mr.
Van Buren’s nomination could not be
accomplished, nor was he aware that
bis own nomination would be tbe al¬
most unanimous wish of this conven¬
tion. I have talked with the leading
delegates from Missouri and Virginia
today. They say that he can be nomi¬
nated by acclamation. Is It possible
that he—a strong party man—can re¬
sist this unanimous call of the party
with whose help he has won Immortal
fame? No, it Is not so. It cannot be
so. We mast dispatch a messenger to
him by horse at once who shall take
to him from his friend Judge Fine a
frank statement of the imperious de¬
mand of this convention and a request
that he telegraph a withdrawal of hl«
letter In the morning,”
The suggestion was unanimously ap¬
proved and within an hour, mounted
or. one of the best horses in Maryland
—so his groom Informed me—I was on
my way-to Washington with the mes¬
sage of Jndge Fine In my pocket Yea,
I had two days to spare on my sched¬
ule of travel and reckoned that by re¬
turning to Baltimore next day I should
reach Canton in good time.
It was the kind of thing that only a
lithe, supple, strong- rted lad such
as I was in the da of my youth.
could reUah-rfiDeeding over a darfc
road by the light of foe atara and a
half-moon, with » bona that loved to
kick op a wind. My brain was In a
torn, tor the notion bad come to mo
that I was making history.
The lore rtf fame and high place bar
ried me on. With the senator in the
presidential chair I should be well
started In the highway of great one
esas. Mr. H. Dunkelberg might
think me better than the legacy of
Benjamin Grlmshaw. A relay awaited
me twenty-three miles down the road.
Well, I reached Washington very
sore, bat otherwise in good form, soon
after daybreak. I waa trembling with
excitement when I pnt my horse In the
stable and rang the bell at our door. It
seemed to m* that I was crossing the
divide between big and little things. A
few steps more and I should be look¬
ing down into the great valley of the
future. Y6t now that I waa there, I
began to lose confidence.
The butler opened the door.
Yea, the senator was up and had
just returned from a walk and was In
his study. I found him there.
“Well, Bart, how does this happen?”
he asked.
“It’s Important business,” I said, aa
I presented the letter..
Something in his look and manner
as he calmly adjusted his glasses and
read the letter of Judge Fine brought
tbe blood to my face. It seemed to
puncture my balloon, so to speak, and
I was falling toward the earth and so
swiftly my head swam. He laid the
letter on his desk and, without looking
np and as coolly as if he were asking
for the change of a dollar, queried:
"Well, Bart, what do you think we
had better do about it?”
“I—I was hoping—you—you would
take it,” I stammered. <
"That’s because jhe excitement of
tbe convention is on yon,” he an¬
swered. “Let ns look at the compass.
They have refused to nominate Mr.
Van Buren because be is opposed to
tbe annexation of Texas. On that sub¬
ject the will of tbe convention Is now
clear. It Is possible that they would
nominate me. We don’t knew about
that, we never shall knout If they
did, and I accepted, what would be ex¬
pected of me to also clear. They
would expect me to abandon my prin¬
ciples and that course of conduct
which I conceive to be best for the
Country. Therefore I should have to
accept it under false pretenses and
take their yoke upon me. Would you
think the needle pointed that way?
“No,” I answered.
Immediately he turned to his desk
and wrote the telegram which fixed
bis place in history. It said no.
Into the lives of few men has such
a moment fallen. I looked at him with
a feeling of awe. What sublime calm¬
ness and serenity was ln,hls face! As
If it were a mere detail in the work of
tbe day, and without a moment's fal¬
tering, he bad declined a crown, for he
would surely have been nominated and
elected. He rose and stood looking
out of the open window.' Always I
think of him standing there with the
morning sunlight falling upon his face
and shoulders. He had observed my
emotion and I think it had touched
hlin a little. There was a moment of
silence. A curious Illusion came to me
then, for it seemed as If I heard the
stand of distant music. Looking
thoughtfully out of the window he
asked: \ ■ first
“Bart, do yon know when our
fathers turned ont ot the trail of tbe
beast and found the long road of hu¬
manity? I think It was when they dis¬
covered the compass in their hearts.”
So now at last we have come to that
high and lonely place, where we may
look back upon the toilsome, adven¬
turous way we have traveled with the
aid pf the candle and the compass.
Now let us stop a, moment to rest and
to think. How sweet the air is here!
The night to falling. I see the stars in
tbe sky.
Just below me Is the valley of Eter¬
nal silence. You will understand my
baste now. I have sought only to do
justice to my friend’and to give my
country a name, long neglected, but
equal in glofy to those of Washlfigton
and Lincoln. *
'
—
Come, let ns take one last took to¬
gether down the rqad we have trav¬
eled, now dim In the evening shad¬
ows. Scattered along it are the little
houses of the poor of which 1 have
written.' See the lights in the win¬
dows—the lights that are shining into
the souls of the young—the eager,
open, expectant, welcoming souls oi
the young—and the light carries many
things, but best of all a respect for the
old, unchanging way of the compass,
After all that is the end and aim o|
the whole niatter—believe me. y
My life has lengthened into th es«
days when most of our tasks are ac¬
complished by machinery. We try to
make, tnen by the thousand, In vast
educational machines, and no longet
by the one as of old. It was the
ing, forgiving, forbearing, patient
ceaseless toll of mother and father
the tender soul of childhood which
quickened that Inextinguishable
of responsibility to God and man
these people whom I now leave to
Judgment of my countrymen.
I have lived to see the ancient
of kingcraft, for self-protection,
ing back into the world. It
that the will and conscience of
Individual shall be regulated and
trolled by some conceited
backed by an army. It cannot foil,
foresee, to accomplish such
tion in the human spirit as shall
peril the dearest possession of man.
If one to to follow the compass
can have but one king—hla God.
A A o
I am near the end. I rode back
Baltimore |hat foreneon. They
Folk' of e foi
22 1
knew ♦>«» would decline th*
honor, aa ha did.
I harried northward to keep ay sp>
Dointment with Salllv. The boats were
slowed by fog. At Albany I wee a day
behind my echednle. I ahonld have
only an hour's leeway If the boats on
tbe upper lakes and the stage from
Plattaburg were on time. I feared to
treat them. So I caught the west,
bound train and readied Utica thre«
hours late. There I bought a good
horse and his saddle and bridle and
hurried up the north road. When he
was near spent I traded him for a well
knit Morgan mare up In the little vil¬
lage of Sand^ Creek. Oh, I knew a
good horse as well as the next man
and a better one than she I never
owned—never. I was back in my sad¬
dle at six in the afternoon and stopped
for feed and an hour’s rest at nine and
rode on through the night I reached
the hamlet of Blchvllle soon after day¬
break’ and put out for a rest of two
hours. 1 could take it easy then. At
seven o’clock the mare and I started
again, well fed and eager to go on.
It was a summer morning that short¬
ens the road—even that of the young
lover. Its air was sweet with the
breath of the meadows. The daisies
and the clover and the cornflowers
and the wild roses seemed to be wav¬
ing a welcome to me, and the thorn
trees—shapely ornament of my native
bills—-were in blossom. A cloud of
pigeons swept across the blue deep
above my head. The great choir of
the fields sang to me—bobolinks, song
sparrows, meadowlarks, bluebirds,
warblers, wrens, and far away in the
edge of a spruce thicket I heard the
flute of the white-throated sparrow.
I bathed at a brook in the woods
and put on a clean silk shirt and tie
ont of my saddlebags. I rode slowly
then to the edge of the village of Can¬
ton and turned at the bridge and took
the river road, although I had time to
spare. How my heart was beating as
I neared the familiar scene! The
river slowed Its pace there, like a dis¬
cerning traveler, to enjoy the beauty
of its shores. Smooth and silent was
the water and In It were the blue of
tbe sky and the feathery shadow-spires
of cedar and tamarack and the reflect¬
ed blossoms of iris and meadow rue.
It was a lovely scene.
There was the pine, but where was
my lady? I dismounted and tied my
mare and looked at my watch. It
lacked twenty minutes to eleven. She.
would come—I had no doubt of It I
washed my hands and face and neck
In the cool water. Suddenly J heard
a voice I knew singing: "Barney
Leave the Girls Alone.” I turned and
saw—your mother, my son. (These
last lines were dictated to his son.)
She was in the stern of a birch canoe,
all dressed In white with roses in her
hair. I raised my hat and she threw
a kiss at me. Old Kate sat In the bow
waving her handkerchief. They
stopped and Sally asked In a tone of
playful seriousness:
“Young man, why have you coma
here?”
“To get you,” I answered.
«« Whist do you want of me?” She
was looking at her face in the water.
’! want to marry you,” I answered
bravely.
“Then you may help me ashore 11
you please. I am in my best, white
" "5*551
1
>
i
1
*
Si*
:
• * »
“Then You May Help Me Ashore, II
You Plesse."
slippers and you are to be very care
ful. t)
Beautiful! She was the spirit oi
the fields of June then and always.
I helped her ashore and held her In
jny arms and, you know, the lips hav)
a way of speaking then in the old, con¬
vincing, final argument of love. They
left no doubt in our hearts, my son.
«, When do you wish to marry me?’
She whispered.
“As -soon as possible, but my pay ii
pnly sixty dollars a month now.”
“We shall make It do,” she an¬
swered. “My mother and father and
yonr aunt and uncle and the Haeketi
and the minister and a number of out
friends are coming in a fleet of boats."
“We are prepared either for a picnic
or a wedding,” was tbe whisper ol
Kate.
“Let’s make it both," I proposed t«
Sally.
“Surely there; couldn’t be a b&ttei
place than here under the- big pine—
it’s so smooth and soft and shady,"
said she.
, “Nor could there be a better day js
better cc * ■
i
along. Sally and 1
waved a welco from the bank an!
t's to be a wedding.”
Then a cheer from the boats, is
which I joined. forget how, when
I shall never thi
company had landed and the greeting)
were over. Uncle Peabody approached
your mother and agld:
“Say, Sally. I'm goto’ cheeks to plant; a kla<
on both o’ them red o’ your*
an* do It deliberate, too.”
He did It and so did Aunt Deel and
old Kate, and I think that, nett t<
Your mother nnd me, they were tIU
happiest people at the wedding.
* *
There la a lonely grave up in th«
hills—that of the stranger who died
long ago on Rattleroad. One day j
found old Kate sitting beside it and on
a atone lately erected there was th«
name, Enoch Bone,
: “It Is very sorrowful,” the whis¬
pered. “He was trying to find me
when he died.”
We walked on In silence while I re?'
called the circumstances. How strange
that those tales of blood and lawless
daring which Kate had given to Amos
Grlmshaw had led to the slaying ot
her own son! Yet, so it happened,
and the old wives will tell you the
story up there in the bills,
The play ends Just as the night Is
falling with Kate and me entering tbe
little home, so familiar now, where she
lives and Is ever welcome 'with Aunt
Deel and Uncle Peabody. Tbe Utter
meets us at the doorsnd is saying in a
cheerful voice:
“Come in to supper, you rovers.
How solemn ye look I Say, If you ex¬
pect Sally and me to do all the laughin’
here you’re mistaken. There’s a lot of
it to be done right now, an’ it’s time
you J’lned In. We ain’t done nothin’
but laugh since we got up, an’ we’re
fo need o’ help. What’s the matter,
Hate? Look up at tbe light fo feflUK] Godff
winder. How bright It atynte Toof
jjrjg^I ted bad 1 always BPa
DAILY HEALTH TALKS
The Many Mysteries of
Nature
BY L. W. BOWER, M. D.
You can take an onion seed and a pansy
seed, and plant them aide by side in the
same spot of ground. In one case, you
get an onion, with its peculiarly Bower strong of
odor, and in the other you get a
rare beauty. You can plant habit-forming a pop
and drug), opium (a dangerous, plant rhubarb seed and
something or you can helps a constipation.
get that
No scientist, living of or dead, can explain
these mysteries Nature. Behind the
invisible life germ in each seed is hidden
the deep secret that nobody understands.
Everything growing out of tbe ground
seems intended for some use in establishing Buffalo,
natural conditions. Dr. Pierce, of
N. Y„ long since found out what is
na turally best for women’s diseases. He
learned it all through treating thousands
of cases. The result of his studies was a
medicine called Dr. Pierce’s Favorite
Prescription, This medicine is made of
vegetable growths that headache, nature weakening surely in*
tended for backache, periodical
drains, bearing-down inflammations, pains, tad for ir¬
regularities^ disorders pelvic in
the many common to women
all ages of life. Dr. Pierce’s Favorite
Prescription is made of lady’s slipper root, blue
black cohosh root, unicorn root,
;ohosh root and Oregon i e root,
Women who take Pierce’s this stand Favorite remedy Pre¬
Know that in Dr.
scription they are getting a safe woman’s
tome so good that druggists everywhere
aeli it.
Favorite Prescription should have the
full confidence of every woman in America
because it contains no alcohol tad no
narcotic. Dr. Pierce knew, when he first
made this standard medicine, that whiskey he has
and morphine kept them are injurious, of and his so remedies.
always Send 10c Dr. Pierce’s out Invalids’ Hotel,
to
Buffalo, N. Y. for trial pkg. Tablets.
Miller’s Antiseptic Oil, Known as
SNAKEOIL
Accomplishing Most Wonderful Re¬
sults.
“I want to thank you for your won¬
derful oil,” writes Mr. J. C. Gibson,
Jonesboro, Ark. “My little girl was
very low with diptheria: I had giv¬
en her two doses of medicine which
cost me $10 with no results. I bought
a 25c bottle of your oil and one appli¬
cation relieved her. Now she is well.
It is the greatest remedy 1 ever saw. »
Mr. Gibson made this statement be¬
fore hundreds of people. Mrs. Flor¬
ence Hartford, Meager, 234 Whitney Street,
Antiseptic Conn., writes: “I had used
your Oil for neuralgia with
good effects. Only thing I have ever
tried that stopped the pqjn imme¬
diately.” Ala., writes: Mrs. “I WilliamsjGadS'den,
have used your great
pain oil for rheumatism, stiff joints,
also for sore throat, and I want to say
that it is the greatest remedy I ever
tried. I recommend it to all suffer¬
ers.” Many cures reported daily from
thousands of grateful users of this
wonderful oil. Every bottle guaran¬
teed, 30c, 60c and $1.00 a bottle, or
'GRIFFIN money refunded at
PHARMACY COMPANY
MERIDIAN SUN LODGE.
Regular communica¬
tion of Meridian Sun
Lodge No. 26, F. & A. M.
will be held Tuesday
night, March 4th, at 7
o’clock. Fellow draft
degree. A 1 1 Masons
qualified to attend invited. M. S. Tur¬
ner, W. M., F. C. Ellis, Sec’ty.