Newspaper Page Text
The Call of the
Cumberlands
By Charles Neville Buck
With Illustrations I
from Photographs of Scenes |
in the Play S
(Copjcitht, «9i3. by W. J. Watt & Co.)
15
CHAPTER XVl—Continued.
Then, again, silence settled on the
town, to remain for five minutes un
broken. The sun glared mercilessly on
clay streets, now as empty as a cem
etery. A single horse incautiously
hitched at the side of the courthouse
switched its tail against the assaults
of the flies. Otherwise, there was no
outward sign of life. Then, Callomb's
newly organized force of ragamuffin sol
diers clattered down the street at
double time. For a moment or two
after they came into sight only the
massed uniforms caught the eyes of
the intrenched Hollmans, and an
alarmed murmur broke from the court
house. They had seen no troops de
train, or pitch camp. These men had
sprung from the earth as startlingly as
Jason's crop of dragon’s teeth. But,
when the command rounded the shoul
der of a protecting wall to await fur
ther orders, the ragged stride of their
inarching and tho all-too-obvious bear
ing of the mountaineer proclaimed
them native amateurs. The murmur
turned to a howl of derision and chal
lenge. They were nothing more nor
less than Souths, masquerading in the
uniforms of soldiers.
“What orders?” inquired Callomb
briefly, joining Samson ’ the store.
“Demand surrender once more —then
take the courthouse and jail.” was the
ehort reply.
Callomb himself went forward with
the flag of truce. He shouted his mes
sage and a bearded man came to the
courthouse door.
“Tell 'em," he said without redun
dancy, “thet we’re all here. Come an’
git us.”
The officer went back and distribut
ed his forces under such cover as of
fered itself about the four walls. Then
a volley was fired over the i oof and in
stantly the two buildings in the public
square awoke to a volcanic response of
rifle fire.
All day the duel between the streets
and county buildings went on with
desultory intervals of quiet and wild
outbursts of musketry. The troops
were firing as sharpshooters, and the
courthouse, too, had its sharpshooters.
Whpn a head showed itself at a barri
caded window a report from the out
side greeted it. Samson was every
where, his rifle smoking and hot-bar
reled. His life seemed protected by a
talisman. Yet most of the firing, after
the first hour, was from within. The
troops were, except for occasional pot
shots, holding their fire. There was
neither food nor water inside the build
rap
Ml
“We Lays Down."
ing, and at last night closed and the
cordon grew tighter to prevent escape.
The Hollmans, like rats in a trap,
grimly held on, realizing that it was to
be a siege. On the following morning
in detachment of “F” company arrived,
dragging two gatling guns. The Holl
.mans saw them detraining, from their
‘lookout in the courthouse cupola, and,
realizing that the end had come, re
solved upon a desperate sortie. Simul
taneously every door and lower win
dow of the courthouse burst open to
discharge a frenzied rush of men, fir
ing as they came. They meant to fight
their way out and leave as many hos
tile dead as possible in their wake.
Their one chance now was to scatter
before the machine guns came into ac
tion. They came like a flood of hu
man lava and their guns were never
silent, as they bore down on the barri
cades, where the single outnumbered
company seemed insufficient to hold
them. But the new militiamen, look
ing for reassurance not so much to
Callomb as to the granite-like face of
Samson South, rallied and rose with a
yell to meet them on bayonet and
smoking muzzle. The rush wavered,
fell back, desperately rallied, then
broke in scattered remnants for the
"shelter of the building.
Old Jake Hollman fell near the door,
and his grandson, rushing out, picked
tip his fallen rifle and sent farewell
defiance from it as he, too, threw up
both arms and dropped.
Then a white flag wavered at a win-
dow and, as the newly arrived troops
halted in the Street, the noise died sud
denly to quiet. Samson went out to
meet a man who opened the door and
said shortly:
“We lays down.”
Judge Hollman, who had not partici
pated, turned from the slit in his shut
tered window, through which he had
since the beginning been watching the
conflict. •
“That ends it!” he said, with a de
spairing shrug of his 'shoulders. He
picked up a magazine pistol which lay
on his table and, carefully counting
down his chest to the fifth rib, placed
the muzzle against his breast.
CHAPTER XVII.
Before the mountain roads were
mired with the coming of the rains,
and while the air held its sparkle of
autumnal zestfulness, Samson South
wrote to Wilford Horton that if he
still meant to Come to the hills for his
inspection of coal rnd timber the time
was ripe. Soon men would appear
bearing transit and chain, drawing a
line which a railroad was to follow to
Misery and across it to the heart of
untouched forests and coal-fields. With
that wave of innovation would come
the speculators. Besides, Samson's
fingers were itching to be out In the
hills with a palette and sheaf of
brushes in the society of George Les
cott.
For a while after the battle at Hixon
the county had lain in a torpid paraly
sis of dread. Many illiterate feudists
on each side -emembered the directing
and exposed figure of Samson South
seen through eddies of gun smoke, and
believed him immune from death.
With Purvy dead and Hollman the vic
tim of his own hand, the backbone of
the murder syndicate was broken. Its
heart had ceased to beat. Those Holl
man survivors who bore the potentiali
ties for leadership had not only signed
pledges of peace, but were afraid to
break them; and the triumphant
Souths, instead of vaunting their vic
tory, had subscribed to the doctrine of
order and declared the war over.
Souths who broke the law were as
speedily arrested as Hollmans. Their
boys were drilling as militiamen and
—wonder of wonders!—inviting the
sons of the enemy to join them. Os
course, these things changed gradual
ly, but the beginnings of them were
most noticeable in the first few
months, just as a newly painted and
renovated house is more conspicuous
than one that has long been respecta
ble.
Hollman’s Mammoth Department
Store passed into new hands, and traf
ficked only in merchandise, and the
town was open to the men and women
of Misery as well as those of Cripple
shin.
These things Samson had explained
in his letters to the Lescotts and Hor
ton. Men from down below could still
find trouble in the wink of an eye. by
seeking it, for under all transformation
the nature r’ the individual remained
much the same; but, without seeking
to give offense, they could ride as se
curely through the hills as through the
streets of a policed city—and meet a
readier hospitality.
And, when these things were dis
cussed and the two men prepared to
cross the Mason-and-Dixon line and
visit the Cumberlands, Adriente
promptly and definitely announced
that she would accompany her brother.
No argument was effective to dissuade
her, and after all, Lescott, who had
been there, saw no good reason why
she should not go with him.
At Hixon, they found that receptive
air of serenity which made the history
of less than three months ago seem
paradoxical and fantastically unreal.
Only about the courthouse square
where numerous small holes in frame
walls told of fusillades, and in the in
terior of the building itself where the
woodwork was scarred and torn, and
the plaster freshly patched, did they
find grimly reminiscent evidence.
Samson had not met them at the
town, because he wished their first im
pressions of his people to reach them
uninfluenced by his escort. It was a
form of the mountain pride—an hon
est resolve to soften nothing, and make
no apologies. But they found arrange
ments made for horses and saddlebags,
and the girl discovered that for her
had been provided a mount as evenly
gaited as any in her own stables.
When she and her two companions
came out to the hotel porch to start,
they found a guide waiting, who said
he was instructed to take them as far
as the ridge, where the sheriff himself
would be waiting, and the cavalcade
struck into the hills. Men at whose
houses they paused to ask a dipper of
water, or to make an inquiry, gravely
advised that they “had better 'light and
stay all night.” In the coloring for
ests, squirrels scampered and scurried
out of sight, and here and there on the
tall slopes they saw shy-looking chil
dren regarding them with inquisitive
eyes.
The guide led them silently, gazing
in frank amazement, though with defer
ential politeness, at this girl in cord
uroys, who rode cross-saddle, and rode
so well. Yet, it was evident that be
would have preferred talking had not
diffidence restrained him. He was a
young man and rather handsome in a
shaggy, unkempt way. Across one
cheek ran a long scar still red, and
the girl, looking into his clear, intelli
gent eyes, wondered what that scar
stood for. Adrienne had the power
of melting masculine diffidence, and
her smile as she rode at his side, and
asked, “What is your name?” brought
an answering smile to his grim lips.
“Joe Hollman, ma’am,” he answered;
and the girl gave an involuntary start.
The two men who caught the name
closed up the gap between the horses,
with suddenly piqued interest.
“Hollman!” exclaimed the girt.
THE BULLETIN. IRWINTON. GEORGIA.
“Then, you—” She stopped and
flushed. “I beg your pardon,” she
said, quickly.
“That’s all ri"ht,”. reassured the
man. “I know what ye’re a-thinkin’,
but I hain’t takin' no offense. The high
sheriff sent me over. I’m one of his
deputies.”
“Were you”—she paused, and added
rather timidly—“were you in the court
house?"
He nodded, and with a brown fore
finger traced the scar on his cheek.
“Samson South done that that with
his rifle-gun,” he enlightened. “He’s a
funny sort of feller, is Samson South.”
“How?" she asked.
"Wall, he licked us, an’ licked us so
plumb damn hard we was skeered ter
fight ag’in, an’ then, ’stid of tramplin’
on us, he turned right ’round, an’
made me a deputy. My brother’s a
corporal in this hyar new-fangled ml
lishy. I reckon this time the peace is
goin’ ter last. Hit's a mighty funny
way ter act, but ’pears like it works all
right.”
Then, at the ridge, the girl’s heart
gave a sudden bound, for there at the
highest point, where the road went Up
and dipped again, whited the mounted
figure of Samson South, and, as they
came into sight, he waved hie felt hat
and rode down to meet them.
“Greetings!” he shouted. Then, as
he leaned over and took Adrienne’s
hand, he added: “The Goops send you
their welcome.” His smile was un
changed, but the girl noted that his
hair had again grown long.
Finally, as the sun was setting, they
reached a roadside cabin, and the
mountaineer said briefly to the other
men:
“You fellows ride on. I want Dren
nie to stop with me a moment. We’ll
join you later.”
Lescott nodded. He remembered the
cabin of the Widow Miller, and Hor
ton rode with him, albeit grudgingly.
Adrienne sprang lightly to the
ground, laughingly rejecting Samson’s
assistance, and came with him to the
top of a stile, from which he pointed
to the log cabin, set back in its small
yard, wherein geese and chickens
picked Industriously about in the sandy
earth.
A huge poplar and a great oak
nodded to each other at either side of
the door, and over the walls a clam
bering profusion of honeysuckle vine
contended with a mass of wild grape,
in joint effort to hide the white chink
ing between the dark loge. From the
crude milk-benches to the sweep of
the well, every note was one of neat
ness and rustic charm. Slowly, he
said, looking straight into her eyes:
“This is Sally's cabin, Drennie.”
He watched her expression, and her
lips curved up in the same sweetness
of smile that had first captivated and
helped to mold him.
“It’s lovely!” she cried, with frank
delight. “It’s a picture.”
“Wait!” he commanded. Then, turn
ing toward the house, he sent out the
long, peculiarly mournful call of the
whippoorwill, and, at the signal, the
door opened, and on the threshold
Adrienne saw a slender figure. She
had called the cabin with its shaded
dooryard a picture, but now she knew
she had been wrong. It was only a
background. It was the girl herself
who made and completed the picture.
She stood there in the wild simplicity
that artiets seek vainly to reproduce
in posed figures. Her red calico dress
was patched, but fell in graceful lines
to her slim bare ankles, though the
first faint frosts had already fallen.
Her red-brown hair hung loose and
in masses about the oval of a face in
which the half-parted lips were dashes
of scarlet, and die eyes large violet
poole. She stood with her little chin
tilted in a half-wild attitude of recon
noiter, as a fawn might have stood.
One brown arm and hand rested on
the door frame, and, as she saw the
other woman, she colored adorably.
Adrienne thought she had never
seen so instinctively and unaffectedly
lovely a face or figure. Then the girl
came down the steps and ran toward
them.
“Drennie,” said the man, “this Is
Sally. I want you two to love each
other.” For an instant, Adrienne Les
cott stood looking at the mountain
girl, and then she opened both her
arms.
“Sally,” she cried, “you adorable
child, I do love you!”
The girl in the calico dress raised
her face, and her eyes were glistening.
“I’m obleeged ter ye,” she faltered.
Then, with open and wondering ad
miration she stood gazing at the first
“fine lady” upon whom her glance had
ever fallen.
Samson went over and took Sally's
hand.
"Drennie,” he said, softly, “is there
anything the matter with her?”
Adrienne Lescott shook her head.
“I understand,” she said.
"I sent the others on,” he went on
quietly, “because I wanted that first
we three should meet alone. George
and Wilfred are going to stop at my
uncle’s house, but, unless you’d rather
have it otherwise, Sally wants you
here.”
“Do I stop now?” the girl asked.
But the man shook his head.
“I want you to meet my other people
first.”
As they rode at a waik along the lit
tle shred of road left to them, the man
turned gravely.
"Drennie,” he began, "she waited for
me, all those years. What I was helped
to do by such splendid friends as you
and your brother and Wilfred, she was
back here trying to do for herself. 1
told you back there the night before I
left that I was afraid to let myself
question my feelings toward you. Do
you remember?”
She met his eyes, and her own eyes
were frankly smiling.
“You were very complimentary,
Samson,” she told him. "I warned
you then that it was the moon talk
ing.”
"No,” he eaid firmly, “it was not the
moon. I have since then met that fear
and analyzed it. My feeling for you is
the best that a man can have, the hon
est worship of friendship. And,” he
added, “I have analyzed your feeling
for me, too, and, thank God! I have
that same friendship from you. Haven’t
I?”
For a moment, she only nodded; but
her eyes were bent on the road ahead
of her. The man waited in tense
silence. Then, she raised her face, and
it was a face that smiled with the
serenity of one who has wakened out
of a troubled dream.
“You will always have that, Samson,
dear,” she assured him.
"Have I enough of it, to ask you to
do for her what you did for me? To
take her and teach her the things she
has the right to know?”
“I’d love it,” she cried. And then
she smlied, as she added: “She will
be much easier to teach. She won't
be so stupid, and one of the things I
shall teach her” —she paused, and
added whimsically—“will be to make
you cut your hair again.”
But, just before they drew up at the
house of old Spicer South, she said:
“I might as well make a clean breast
of it, Samson, and give my vanity the
punishment it deserves. You had me
in deep doubt.”
“About what,?”
“About —well, about us. I wasn't
quite sure that I wanted Sally to have
you—that I didn’t need you myself.
I’ve been a shameful little cat to Wil
fred.”
"But now —?” The Kentuckian broke
off.
“Now, I know that my friendship
for you and my love for him have both
had their acid test —and I am happier
than I’ve ever been before. I’m glad
we've been through it. There are no
doubts ahead. I've got you both.”
“About him,” said Samson, thought
fully. "May I tell you something
which, although it’s a thing in your
own heart, you have never quite
known?”
She nodded, and he went on.
“The thing which you call fascina
tion in me was really just a proxy,
y w
Ei JO
* zL-J
“I Want You Two to Love Each
Other.”
Drennie. You were liking qualities in
me that were really his qualities. Just
because you had known him only in
gentle guise, his finish blinded you
to his courage. Because he could turn
‘to woman the heart of a woman.’ you
failed to see that under it was the
‘iron and fire.’ You thought you saw
those qualities in me, because I wore
my bark as shaggy as that scaling
hickory over there. When he was get
ting anonymous threats of death ev
ery morning he didn't mention them
to you. He talked of teas and dances.
I know his danger was real, because
they tried to have me kill him —and
if I’d been the man they took me for,
I reckon I’d have done it. I was mad
to my marrow that night—for a min
ute. I don’t hold a brief for Wilfred,
but I know that you liked me first for
qualities which he has as strongly as
I —and more strongly. He’s a braver
man than I, becuse, though raised to
gentle things, when you ordered him
into the fight he was there. He never
turned back or flickered. I was raised
on raw meat and gunpowder, but he
went in without training.”
The girl’s eyes grew grave ^nd
thoughtful, and for the rest of the
way she rode in silence.
There were transformations, too, in
the house of Spicer South. Windows
had been cut, and lamps adopted. It
was no. longer so crudely a pioneer
abode. While they waited for dinner,
a girl lightly crossed the stile, and
came up to the house. Adrianne met
her at the door, while Samson and
Horton stood back, waiting. Suddenly,
Miss Lescott halted and regarded the
newcomer in surprise. It was the
same girl she had seen, yet a different
girl. Her hair no longer fell in tangled
masses. Her feet were no longer bare.
Her dress, though simple, was charm
ing, and, when she spoke, her English
had dropped its half-illiterate peculiari
ties, though the voice still held its
bird-like melody.
“Oh, Samson,” cried Adrienne, “you
two have been deceiving me! Sally,
you were making up, dressing the part
back there, and letting me patronize
you.”
Sally’s laughter broke from her
throat in a musical peal, but it still
held the note of shyness, and it was
Samson who spoke.
“I made the others ride on, and I got
Sally to meet you just as she was when
I left her to go East.” He spoke with
a touch of the mountaineer's over-sen-
sitive pride. “I wanted you first to see
my people, not as they are going to be,
but as they were. I wanted you to
know how proud I am of them —just
that way.”
That evening, the four of them
walked together over to the cabin of
the Widow Miller. At the stile, Ad
rienne Lescott turned to the girl and
said:
“I suppose this place is pre-empted.
I’m going to take Wilfred down there
by the creek, and leave you two alone.”
Sally protested with mountain hos
pitality, but even under the moon she
once more colored adorably.
Adrienne turned up the collar of her
sweater around her throat, and, when
she and the man who had waited, stood
leaning on the rail of the footbridge,
she laid a hand on his arm.
“Has the water flowed by my mill,
Wilfred?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” His voice
trembled.
"Will you have anything to ask me
when Christmas comes?”
"If I can wait that long, Drennie,"
he told her.
“Don't wait, dear,” she suddenly ex
claimed, turning toward him, and
raising eyes that held his answer.
Ask me now!”
But the question which he asked was
one that his lips smothered as he
pressed them against her own.
Back where the poplar threw its
sooty shadow on the road, two figures
sat close together on the top of a
stile, talking happily in whiepers. A
girl raised her face, and the moon
shone on the deepness of her eyes, as
her lips curved in a trembling smile.
"You’ve come back, Samson," ehe
said in a low voice, “but, if I’d known
how lovely she was, I’d have given up
hoping. I don’t see what made you
come."
Her voice dropped again into the
tender cadence of dialect.
“I couldn’t live withouten ye, Sam
son. I jest couldn’t do hit." Would he
remember when she had said that be
fore ?
"I reckon, Sally,” he promptly told
her, “I couldn’t live withouten you,
neither.” Then, he added, fervently,
“I’m plumb dead shore I couldn’t.”
THE END.
TAKES ISSUE WITH EDISON
Here Is One Man Who Does Not Be
lieve the World Will Give
Up Sleep.
Mr. Edison says sleep is a bad habit,
and that we shall some day get over
it. Uke drinking and smoking, it is
to be among those things which we
shall try in time to give up on the first
of the year. He says people called him
crazy when he said electricity would
I supplant all other motive power in
i transportation, and cue therefore hesi
■ tates to say that he is crazy about
anything. However, we will hazard a
guess that if he is off his box any
where, It is with respect to the pleas
ant custom of indulging ourselves in a
good sound snooze. How else we are
to refresh ourselves from the day’s
work we cannot imagine. The trouble
with this objection, as it applies to
Mr. Edison, is that he doesn’t think we
are wearied by the day’s work. He
and some of his associates worked at
something for a given period of time
21 hours a day, aud they all gained
weight! He leads us to infer that it is
what we do when we are not working
that wearies us. Thinking over it
briefly, we believe there is something
in that. Probably half the things we
do in our leisure time is very hard
work. The celebrated tired business
man is only tired when his wife wants
him to go out somewhere after din
ner. It is the opera and the fox trot
that wear him out. Still, think of giv
ing up sleep! If it is a habit, it is a
nice one. We have got some glimpses
of what Mr. Edison means when we
have tried to sleep in a chair car, but
given a feather bed and a soft pillow,
we don't get him at all. Last night,
for instance. Wasn’t the habit deli
cious last night?—St. Louis Post-Dis
patch.
On Tolerance.
At the German-American Chatnbei
of Commerce in New York Dr. Adolph
Muller, an agent for the purchase of
woolens, said:
"A better spirit, a spirit of toler
ance, is now manifesting itself. On
the boat coming over a French shoe
buyer and an English cloth buyer
shared my table with me and we got
on well.
" 'Gentlemen,’ I said to those chaps
one morning, 'we Germans and you
English and you French are not all
thieves, vandals and murderers. Wfth
us it is like the dog riddle.
“ 'Why is a dog like a man?' a boy
asked.
“ 'Give it up.' said another boy.
" ‘Because it’s bow-legged.’
“ ’But,’ said the second boy. ‘all dogs
are not bow-legged.'
■■ Weil, neither are ail men.'"
Modern Method.
Apropos of an elderly Chicago bank
er, whose wife had threatened to di
vorce him on account of his affection
for a beautiful stenographer of seven
teen years. George Ade said:
"A tragedy, this, of a not uncommon
kind, a tragedy due to our modern
business methods. The grand old
merchant prince of the past used to
take his pen in hand. Today, it seems,
he takes his typewriter on his knee "
Greatest Wind Storm.
Probably the greatest destruction
by a wind storm was that wrought in
Galveston, Tex., September S, 1900,
when 9,000 lives were lost and proper
ty valued at $30,000,000 was suddenly
destroyed. If there has ever been a
worse storm we have no record of it.
I Are You Giving A
J Your Body f
J A Square Deal ■
Read
"The Ills of Life”
This free booklet is a plain statement of
plain people as to their experience with
reruns. They have used Peruns. They
know what they are talking about. Fathers.
Mothers. Sisters. Brothers. Grandfathers
and grandchildren. They all speak.
Instructive reading. Send for one.
Penina is a standard household remedy
for coughs, colds and catarrh. It is also a
slight laxative. An admirable remedy for
old and young. It is a great saving in doc
tor's bills to have Peruna in the house. It
is also convenient.
If your druggist does not happen to have
Penina in stock order it direct from us.
SI.OO a bottle, $5.00 for six. We pay
transportation charges. Penina wins its own
way. One bottle will convince you.
THE PERUNA COMPANY,
Cokunbus, Ohio
A Different Matter.
“Then you don't think I practice
what I preach, eh?” queried the min
ister, in talking with one of the dea
cons at a meeting.
“No, sir, I don't," replied the dea
con. “You’ve been preachin’ on the
subject of resignation for two years,
an’ ye haven't resigned yet.”
WONDERFUL HOW RESINOL
STOPS ITCHING AT ONCE
To those who have endured for years
the itching torments of eczema or other
such skin-eruption, the relief that the
first use of resinol ointment and res
nol soap gives is perfectly incredible.
After all the suffering they have
endured and all the useless treatments
they spent good money for, they can
not believe anything so simple, mild
and inexpensive can stop the itching
and burning INSTANTLY! And they
find it still more wonderful that the
improvement is permanent and that
resinol really drives away the erup
tion completely in a very short time.
Perhaps there is a pleasant surprise
like this in store for you. Resinol oint
ment and resinol soap are soli by all
druggists.—Adv.
Very Much So.
“I heard of a duel lately which
was fought with wax bullets."
“That was quite a cereous matter.”
Similar Occupation.
“Ah, see! There is the sun set
ting!”
“That’s nothing. So s my hen.”
Those who have tested it find that
the epigram. “Revenge is sweet.” is
the most misleading of all.
The man who does not need to ex
plain anything to his wife is apt to
be an uninteresting husband.
If you don’t want to be spoiled by
success, get a job in the weather
bureau.
It is a sad thought, but true, that
mother s little lamb may grow up and
have a foul tongue.
You have noticed, of course, that a
small man can feel just as big as the
rest of us.
Nothing worries some women like
troubles that failed to develop.
New Treatment for
Croup and Colds
*
Relieve* by Inhalation and Absorption.
No Stomach Dosing.
Plenty of fresh air in the bedroom and a
good application of Vick's “Vap-O-Kub”
Salve over the throat and chest is the best
defense against all cold troubles.
The medicated vapors, released by the
oody heat, loosen the phlegm, clear the
air passages and soothe the inflamed mem
brane. In addition, Vick's is absorbed
through the skin. 25c, 50c, or SI.OO.
THg GENUINE HAS THIS TRADE MARK
Vapokub"
virirc croup an . d cAI W
YlUld Pneumonia
MOMENTA
/j a Syrup Taken Internally
For catarrh, coughs and headaches.
It instantly opens air passages of
head and lungs. It cures most
headaches in five minutes. Palat
able. Harmless. Sold by dealers,
or by mail for 25c stamps. Address
New'York Drug Concern, New York
Constipation
Vanishes Forever
Prompt Relief—Permanent Cure
CARTER’S LITTLE
LIVER PlLLS never
fail. Purely vegeta-
ble —act surely P ADTFPS
but gently on
the liver. f * U L £
Stop after fl IVER
dinner dis- fl P
tress—cure yg vSe-Jd**™*"
indigestion,
improve the complexion, brighten the eyes.
SMALL PILL, SMALL DOSL, SMALL PRICE.
Genuine must bear Signature
W? N. U., ATLANTA, NO. 13-1915.
