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***** Married Life the Third Year By MABEL HERBERT URNER. “H CUE’S from some the of your bathroom,’ things and Helen place d in the trunk tray the tooth brush. tooth pas te and bottle of glycerine. *'I was afraid you might forget them.” Alice, who was throwing her clothes into her trunk with feverish haste, nod ded an ungracious “Thank you." “Don't you want me to help you pack?" ventured Helen: “Your dresses will be all like that.” “I don’t e I don’t can angry sob. "I’m sort- ire HOW mussed they are! for ANYTHING,’’ with an ‘if only 1 can get home!” you feel this way, Alice. It’s distressing to all of us that your should end so unpleasantly." , due kept on rolling up and crush- i: g in one garment after another. She l.ad swept everything out of the closet - .r.u bureau drawers into a confused /a an on the floor by the trunk, and she was {lacking them in regardless of how ihey would look when taken out. Her lace was flushed, her hair disheveled, and her eyes red and sw’ollen from weeping. ith a sigh at the hopelessness of the situation, Helen went into the library to be sure that nothing of Alice’s was left in there. “Better order that taxi now, hadn’t we?” demanded Warren. “Think she’ll be ready by 9.J5? That’ll give us three-quarters of an hour to get down there and check her trunk." “Yes, she’ll be reedy—she’s just throwing in her things! Oh, Warren, it’s too bad this thing had to happen! I feel perfectly wretched!” “Well, you’re a little fool to let it upset you. If she' wants to make a scene and insist on starting home this time of night—that’s her lookout. It’s not up to us to worry. Should think you’d be blamed glad to get rid of her— ,1 am.’’ 'The Explaining. “Oh, yes, I know, but she was going home so soon, anyway: and now to have her rush off like this—and make hard feelings between the whole fam ily! How can we ever explain it?" "We won’t. We’ll let her do the ex plaining." “Oh, but she won’t tell It as it is— sheTll never say that she left because we followed her mother’s instructions in not letting her see that man. She may even make Aunt Emma think that we” “The deuce with what Aunt Emma thinks!'’ as he strode over to the phone. While he ordered the taxi. Helen again went in to Alice. She found her trying to force down the tray in the 'overcrowded trunk. “Oh, you can’t close it like that! You pack your satchel and get yourself ready—I’ll lock Hi is for you. Are you sure everything’s *in?” With difficulty • Helen finally got the trunk closed, but she had to call War ren to lock it. Alice, who was trying on her veil, did not turn as he entered, ‘but Helen could see that she was watching him in the mirror with angry eyes. In grim silence Warren locked the trunk, threw down the key and stalked out Helen stood awkwardly pulling at the end of the trunk strap, wanting to say something to make the parting less strained. But there was nothing re lenting in Alice’s manner as she now swept the key into her purse, took up her gloves and announced coldly that she was ready. '{‘The taxicab will be here in a mo ment,' murmured Helen, “Warren or dered it for a quarter past 9.” Then with, hesitating embarrassment: “I’m sorry you’re leaving live this, Alice, 1 feel that’’ “Well, you needn’t be sorry’’ (cold ly). “I'm very glad to go, and I think you’re glad to have me go. It was a mistake that I came at all.’’ What little sympathy Helen had for Al.ce was chilled by this remark. Warren Is Worried. "Well, of course, Alice, if you feel that way about it - perhaps It's just as well that you’re going. I’ll see if M.e taxi’s come.” Helen hurried to look out of the front room window, but the taxi had not yet eorrte. Warren, with his hands thrust deep in his pockets, was walk ing up and down the room—a trick of his when worried—and he was plain ly worried at this last performance of his wayward cousin. In Alice he had met some one that he could not dominate. Because he had sent this man away without letting him see her. and had forbidden her to even talk with him on the phone, Alice nad fiercely declared that she would go >me, that she would start that night, -the would listen neither to Helen’s {•leadings nor to Warren’s angry or ders. She declared if they did not take tier to the station that she would go alone—that she would not stay another night in their house. She knew there was a 10 o’clock, train, and she Intended to take it. . So they had no choice but to let her go. “ Dear, * she's Impossible,’’ exclaimed Helen, turning from the wfhdow. “I tried to say something nice to her 3u»t now, ' she was glad to go, anti that she knew we were glad to have her go; that it was mistake she ever came ’’ "Hump! Well, she's got that about right. Ill write Aunt Emma to-night and tell her a thing or two. This is i he result of her pampering and spoil ing that girl all her life. There’s the taxi now. Hustle and get on your t hings.” “Why, Warren, I’m not going! ' “Like to know why you’re not?*Now hurrv and gel ready.” Helen had not thought of going to he station, hut now she understood why Warren wanted her. She knew long drive with Alice would be in -trained, awkward silence, and he had no Intention of taking it alone. The elevator boy came tip for the trunk. Warren got Into his overcoat. nd at the last moment Alice came out ■ »f her room carrying her satchel. They went down to the cab in silence. Helen took the back seat beside Alice, while Warren settled himself on the seat op posite. The night air was heavy with a driz- iirig mist. In a constrained silence ' V gazed out at the wet pavements and blurred street lights. It was a relief when at last the cab ’tow up and they hurried Into the sta- on. Warrp” O'-t” while he went -et the ticket and -check the trunk When he ca.ii bac*. lie nanded Alice an envelope. “Your Pullman ticket’s in there, too," brusquely. "Nothing left but upper berths." An Awkward Moment. The train was made up, and they ] Kissed through the gate and down the long platform. Warren led the way into the sleeper, found the num ber of the berth and deposited Alice’s bag on the red plush seat. Then came the most awkward moment of all—the moment of parting. “Well, Alice, I hope you will get home all right.” Helen held out her hand and made an uncertain embar rassed movement as though to kiss her good-bye. but Alice drew coldly back and merely shook hands. “Thank you,” frigidly, “I’m sure I win." “I’ll telegraph your mother from the station here,” announced Warren, as he said “Good-bye” with cold formality. That was all. Still smarting under Alice’s haughty refusal to kiss her, Helen left the car with Warren. Out side as they went back along the plat form, she glanced up at the windows, thinking that Alice might wave them a more cordial good-bye. But when they passed the window by which she sat, j her head was deliberately turned away. 1 Warren was striding angriW ahead, , walking so fast that Helen copld hardly j keep up with him. He crossed over to a telegraph window and w’rote rapidly on a yellow blank: "Mrs. G. A. Willard, Street, Dayton, Ohio. “Alice starting for home to-night. ■ Meet her on the four-thirty to-morrow. “W. E. CURTIS.” “That’s t-welve words, dear,” looking over his shoulder, “can’t you leave out ‘for’ and some other word—there’s no use paying for over ten." But ignoring this bit of economy, Warren shoved the telegram unchanged toward the operator, and demanded: “How much?" He flung down the 46 cents and left the window wi,th a sar castic: “Well, that about ends this pleasing little episode. Now I’ve just one more thing to do—and that’s to write Aunt Emma a piece of my mind. And I’ll get that letter off to-night, too!” "Oh, Warren, you must be careful what you write! There’s no use caus ing any more unpleasantness—now that she’s gone.” “Well, all the same, I’m going to write a few things about that head strong, snlppish young lady that’ll open her mother’s eyes.” When they reached home It was al most 11, and Warren’s ardor for letter- writing had weakened. Not So Eager. “Guess I’ll take my bath and turn in,” be yawned, “and leave that letter until morning.” “Yes. dear, I would; you’re too tired to write it to-night,’’ urged Helen, knowing that by morning his anger would cool off and his letter be less se vere. if he troubled to write it at all.” But Helen's own indignation at Alice’s conduct still smoldered. What Btory would she tell when she reached Day- ton? What excuse would she give for starting home so suddenly at midnight? Helen had seen enough of Alice to know that she was not always truthful, and she feared she would not hesitate to exonerate herself at their expense. Ever since her marriage Helen had made it a point to keep free from any “mix-up” with any of Warren*s rela tives. She dreaded their gossip and criticism. For this reason she had been reluctant to have Alice visit them, fear ing It would end in some family ill-feel ing. And now that Alice had left highly incensed, Helen felt she would be quite capable of making still further trouble for them all. Cleek of the Forty Faces By T. W. HANSHAW. Copyright by Doubleday, Page & Co. TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT. ity Secrets of Beautiful Women Dainty Marguerite Clarke, the Actress, Tells Girls What Simple Rules Will Do What Mi ss Clarke Says: Sun, rain or wind, I believe in fresh air. I walk and walk whenever I ran. I went twenty in onths once without a vacation. Every spring 1 take a tonic -dear, little, new car rots. They are a wonderful blood tonic and purifier. I’owder looks flak\ and is faky. I never go to late suppers in restaurants. No woman can afford to dissipate. To preserve one’s looks you must be clean—clean all the time. Miss Marguerite Clarke :: A Girl s Best Investment :: By BEATRICE FAIRFAX These beautiful pictures are the latest taken of this . harming actress, who in the accompanying interview tells how she finds it easy to retain the freshness of youth through simple means. r NDEED, Mr. Headland, I am glad—1 am very, \ery gla^— that fortune has sent you Into this neighborhood at this terrible time,” said Miss Renfrew, when Cleek was introduced. ”i do not wish to say anything disparaging of Mr. Nippers, but you can see for your self how unfitted such men as he and his assistant ar e to handle an affair of this great import. Indeed, 1 can not rid my mind of the thought that if more competent police were on duty here, the murder would not have hap pened—in short, that the assassin, whoever he may be, counted upon the blundering methods of these men as his passport to safety.” My own thought precisely,” said Cleek. “Mr. Nippers has given me a brief outline of the affair—would you mind giving me the full details, Miss Renfrew? At what hour did Mr. Nos- worth go into his laboratory? Or don’t you know, exactly?” “Yes, I know to the fraction of a moment, Mr. Headland. I was look ing at my watch at the time. It was exactly eight minutes past seven. We had been going over the monthly ac counts together when he suddenly got up, and without a word walked through that door over there. It leads to a covered passage connecting the house proper with the laboratory. That, as you may have heard, is a circular building with a castellated top. It was built wholly and solely for the carrying on of his experi ments. There is but one floor and one window—a very small one about six feet from the ground, and op the side of the Round House which looks iway from this building. Nothing hut the door to it is upon this side, light being supplied to the interior by a roof constructed entirely of heavy corrugated glass.” T see. Then the place is like a huge tube.” 'Exactly—and lined entirely with (hilled steel. Such few wooden ap pliances as are necessary for the equipment of the place are thickly , coated with asbestos. I made no com- i merit when my uncle rose and walked in there without a word. I never do. J For the past six or seven months he | had been absorbed in working out the details of a new invention; and I have become used to his jumping up like that and leaving me.” To Be Continued To-morrow. By LILIAN LAUFERTY. F ROM “Happyland” to “Baby Mine’ —then on to “Little Snow White”; and now to the part of Raffles - made Amy Herrick in “Are You a Crook?” has dainty Marguerite Clarke, the actress, well known in Atlanta, wended her triumphal way in six years of growth in power and ambition. And yet her %»ee retains a sweet, childlike untroubled quality that is very allur ing • “Where does she find the energy?" I thought as she went eagerly through the rehearsal of the third act twice, and then with unflagging zeal started off on act II—and “Where do you find your unfailing enthusiasm?” I inquired when she came over for a chat in a far corner of the s4age of the beautiful new Longa ere Theater, where I was playing audience. “Oh, I get it outdoors,” said the lit tle star whose name just suggests her own sweet daintiness. “I don’t need outdoor exercise because I get plenty of exercise on the stage, but I do need ; the wonderful, bracing, soothing, stimu lating effects of fresh air. Bo I walk and walk whenever I can—to and from the theater around the block—just so I am out In the air. Sun, rain or wind, I believe in fresh air. “I take osteopathy, too—whenever I am too tired to exercise myself, for that fis a wonderful, lazy way of raking your exercise—so luxurious!” Miss Clarke laughed in pleased reminis cence. “You see. you can’t work and give all the energy and force it deserves to your work unless you keep your en ergy up. So I go outdoors and get a new supply of force. And I get on for the longest whiles without vacations. I went twenty whole months once with out a bit of vacation—just getting made over new each day by the W’onderful outdoor world." Gives Outdoors the Credit. “Perhaps you give too much credit to fresh air—maybe it is just your own private supply of energy and ambition that works on unceasingly,” 1 sug- geste<T. “I think not. Ambition does keep you keyed up and full of the desire to ad vance. There you have the incentive, and then you must take every possible means to make yourself capable of car rying out your ambitions. “Every spring I prescribe a w’onderful tonic for myself—dear, little new car rots. I ice them till they are cold and delicious—yes, really delicious—and then I just add salt for a flavoring and eat away. Quite raw. you know. Just try them and see how* good they taste, and they are good for more than taste, too. They aie a wonderful blood tonic and purifier. They do make your skin nice,” add^d Miss Clarke ingenuously. They do all of that —for a smoother, more absolutely guiltleas-of-the faint- est-trace-of-jHiw’der skin than Miss Marguerite Clarke’s you never saw’. “Don’t you believe in cosmetics—pow der, even?” I asked. ‘Well, I have to be made up on the stage all the titne, you know—so be tween whiles I like »to give my skin time to breathe. Absolutely just that— time to breathe. And besides the point of view of the health of my skin, I do so dislike seeing powder uncompromis ingly betrayed by the glaring sunlight. It does look so FLAKY and FAKY! “1 have one little notion about ac tresses, and I suppose it applies to our whole sex,” mused Miss Clarke. “We must he veiled in a lit tip mystery to be truly charming. Now, if you are paint ed all pink and white, and have shad ows done under your eyes, and all the paraphernalia of trying-to-be-attractive, how can you be elusive or mysterious or charming, when there are all the se crets of ‘how’ laid bare for the least discerning eye to see? No Tango Tea. “In keeping wdth my Rlea of ‘mystery* I do not go to the -restaurants much. And that works out very well, for it keeps mo from eating lobster salad afc 1 a. m., and saves health and digestion, and hurries me along to bed at reason able hours. “An actress, of all women, cannot af- I K the young girls who are starting out with hearts that alternate be tween hope and fear were to ask all the sweet-faced old women they know this question, “What is the host investment for a young girl to make?” can you imagine their answer? 1 am very sure it would not be “Ih the love of man," for man’s love is at* tended by much toil and regret and pain. Neither would it be “In saving your money,’’ for the stveet-faced old women have found out that there is much more worth while. I am sure that If one of these old women would look back to the days of her youth, she would reply: “My best Investment was In the love of one of my own sex. FlTst my mother, then my siater, then my daughter. I have found no love like the love of these.” A Mother’s Love. It is your mother, little girl, who loves you when no one else will, and whose love lasts as long as she lives. Her love is not dependent on your wit, your beauty, your accomplish ments or your worth in financial re turns. She loves you beoauae it is YOU; she would love you If you were all that Is repellant and hideous in face and character. It is the love of a sister that smoothes over the rough places that even a mother can’t comprehend. Her youth makes her a more sympathetic listener to the trials of youth, and it is the only love left in the wreck of the home when mother has left it forever. A Sister’s Love. There 1s an understanding in a sis ter's love—a sympathy, a guidance and strength. If two sisters love each other, and each gives to the other the fullest confidence, so long as that confidence is given without reserve neither sister will go astray. A young girl can make no better investment than in the love of an older sister, for the older sister, having so recently trod the same path, knows all the pit- falls on the way. An older sister can make no better investment than in the love of the girl who is younger, for the realization that she is the guide makes her cautious of her own foot steps. When the years have come and gone, and the girl who was shielded by her mother's love and guided by her sister’s, becomes a mother, then Life can make her no greater gift than the love of a daughter. Son Falls in Love. A son may intend to take care of his mother some day; many of them do, bless them! But there are many sons who fail in this obligation, and but few’ daughters. The son falls in love and marries, and his wife comes first. The daughter never marries if her marriage means that her mother will be deprived of some one to love her and make her a home. It is the daughter who Is patient, and self-denying, and wm-tchful and tender when the years bring their in firmities; it is the daughter who stands between the mother and neg lect, and W’ho in more instances than this unappreciative old world ever knew, .sacrifices her own little happi ness to take her place betw r een her mother and the pooi^iouse. The best investment, girls, Is not in the love of the man w ho woos you to-day and forgets you to-morrow. It is an investment you will make. The voice of nature commands it, but in making this investment don’t slight the love that will last longer, and that is the love of your mother and sister. Little Bobbie’s Pa By WILLIAM F. KIRK. F & me was to a horse market last week. I dident want to go. •but Pa wanted to go, beekau^e he sed that a frend of his naimed George Crowlev wanted to go & buy a teem of horses for his farm. So Pa & me went to the horse market & 4 looked at sum horses. Pa was the man that interrluced Mister Crowley to the man who owned the horse market, & all the way down to the market he was tell ing Mister Crowley what a wunder- ful bargenn he was going to get. Moast of the horses that they have in this market, Pa toald Mister Crowley, is old thorobreds, the kind that Mis ter Keene used to race at the track In the days when racing was racing in deed. It is true, Pa sed, that most of the horses I mertshun has done a titter llte roadwork laitly, such as on St. cars etc., but I am sure that you will find them of the good old stock that sent Colin & Sysonby & Rose- ben under the wire as winners. I doant care for any blooded horses, sed Mister Crowley. All I want is a euppel of old skippers for my farm. All I want them to do Is to drag a plow around kind of peace ful, & not to think of the days wen the bookmakers had it all ttiare own way. He Was Surprised. 1 thot all the time that Mister Crowley was a pritty pmart man, & I newer thought Pa knew very much about horses, but for onst I was sur prised in Pa. It turned out that he knew moar than Mister Crowley did. Pa & and the man in the horse mar ket showed Mister Crowley a lot of good horses, but he kep saying No, I wront a simpel, genteD team for farm work. I want a team that will not run away wifh the plow’, a team that my wife can drive her guests around with after they have done thar e days work on the farm, a cup- pel of horses that is as trao-tabel & eesy to drive as I am, sed Pa’s frend. So w r e all went to another stabel. I cud see that Pa dident want to go to another place, & I knew that I wud rather be out sumware playing ball with the kid6, but we went to this other place & thay showed a team of horses that was the moast tired looking team I ewer seen, excep Roosevelt & Johnson after eleckshun, The man that was showing the team to Pa’s frend caim rite oaver & leened his hed aggenst the hind heels of both horses. You see, already, he sed, that thay are gentle, yet. Assure as my name is August thay havent kicked since September. I think that Is a team such as I want, sed Mister Crowley. You may send them up to-morrow. How much are thay? Pa Is Wise. Wait a minnit, sed Pa; let. me ex plain. You doant want to buy a horse or a team of horses without trying them on a livery or sum other rig, to see if thay are gentel. So Pa’s frend asked the man August to hitch the teem to a rig. I cud see that he dident want to do it vary’ bad, but he did it, & wen Mister Crowley & Pa & me got in, the team ran away & we had to be stopped by a policeman. i' thought you toald me these horses was gentel, sed Pa’s frend to the man that called hisself August. What made them run away with me & my trends? Go & buy sum other horses sum- ware else, then, sed August. As sure as my naim is August I neffer seen them run away In May before. WHY SHE WORRIED Her Favorite Photograph. J ford to dissipate, you know. Blit then j no v oman who wants to look her best and to win success in the world can af- 1 ford to dissipate, which means waste ' her energies In any way. You can’t j use yourself up in food or excitement or | late hours and have any self left for worth while things,” said the little lady, j sagely. • “You have made a careful study of I taking care of the precious human body, haven’t you?” aaked the interviewer. “Oh, there is a lot more td it,” re- 1 plied the interviewed. “I am very earn est about the importance of cleanliness. : That sounds almost insulting as if ev- j erv one else wern’t, too But then If people want to preserve the looks they already have or acquire some more, they must think about being clean, clean, all , the time. Clean means clean from the J crown of your head to the tips of your j lingers, and to the soles of your little : pink feet, too. And it means that ev- : ( rything you wear must be just as sweet i and fresh as you are. Somehow when you are all clean and sweet and rested and out of doors, you don’t get sick very often. Being in Condition. "That’s being in condition, I suppose. Why, when I was “Snow White” this winter every one told me that I must be sure to rub my feet carefully in al cohol or I’d catch dreadful colds. I didn’t —and I didn't! I never dreamed what a wonderful, free feeling going without shoes would give. 1 think it roust be good for us to go barefoot occasionally— I did feol so splendidly with my feet free to my beloved air. “Blit then I love free, untrammeled motion of every kind. I don’t wear cor sets off the stage. I don’t like them, and I am quite sure they were not thought of in the original scheme of things. I can’t see why we must be all wrapped tin und bound up, and kept hidden from air and sunlight. No shoes, no corsets freedom and suppleness - wouldn’t that be ideal? “Women axe agitating for so much— don’t you think they might agitate for these health and beauty causes, too?” :: Advice to the Lovelorn :: By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. GIVE UP BOTH. TA EAR AilSS FAIRFAX: 1 have gained the acquaint ance of a young lady 25 years of age w ho Works in the same of fice as I do. I did not seem to care for this young lady at first, but as our acquaintance grew we seemed to find we cared for each other’s company. About two weeks ago .1 was in troduced to another young lady, 18 years old, whom I seemed to take a liking to when I met her. I have not told either of the young ladies that I cared very much for them. Now’ the question is: I am 19 years old, earning $12 a week and having the support of my mother on my shoulder^, which will keep me from getting married for about at least six years. 1 would then be 25 years oid and the girl in the first paragraph would be 3L Do you thipk the difference in our ages would spoil our future happiness, as I know I can win the love of this girl, whom I really like the best, or would you advise me to forget this girl and try my friendship with a younger girl? L. H. B Be a little fair, young man, and don’t ask any girl to wait six years for you. Let the waiting be on your own part. Wait Till you have earned the right to woo before you start nut to conquer. Bettering your finan cial prospects means more to you than love. STICK TO THE GIRL. TX EAR MISS FAIRFAX: Some time ago I met a girl w’ho was keeping company with my chum, who was called away from her. and while away he told me that 1 could call on her once in a while. This I did and fell a victim to her charms. 1 won her love and lost my chum's friendship. This girl lu* ghew n that her love for me is strong, and what I want to know Is, what am I to do? Here is a little proposal that 1 made to her: 1 would go away from her, and then she could forget me, win back her first lover and be hap py with him. Her answer was that she did not want me to go, as she loved no one else but me H "NRY You love each other That \ ct stands out paramount to all claims of the other man on hey love or on your friendship. I am sorry for him, but bis need of sympathy would be greater if she mar ried him while loving you. KEEPING EVERLASTINGLY AT IT. HEAR MISS FAIRFAX: D' i am deeply in love with a dear girl one year my junior. I have reasons to believe that she does not desire my company. Kindly tell me how to win her love. ANXIOUS. Be attentive, courteous, generous, kind and persistent. If all these fail, try a Ititle mdif- feEfciice, Make love to auother girl. T HERE was evidently something on Mrs. Nerviss’ mind. For sev eral days she had been very much preoccupied, and finally Nerviss him self, fearful that he might in some way have been the cause of it. made certain inquiries designed to clear up the situation. “I hope you didn’t mind my com ing in so late from the club lost Tues day night, Maria,’’ he said. "One o’clock Is an unholy hour, I know, hut really ! couldn’t help it very well. You see” “Not at oil. James dear,” the good lady answered. “1 should hate to have your friends think you were henpecked. Really, 1 was glad you stayed as long as you wanted to.” Nerviss drew a deep sigh of relief. “Then what is the matter with you, Maria?” he demanded. “You can’t de- celve me. You are worrying about something “ “I certainly am," said the lady, her voioe tremulous. “1 am very much worried. Do you think the people at our bank are honest. James?” “Why, certainly,” laughed Nerviss. “Whatever made you think they w’ere not?” “Well, something very strange has happened lately,” said Mrs. Nerviss, Items of Interest Tiger, the remarkable cat of the Great Eastern Railway Company’s goods sheds at Peterborough, England, who is reputed to be about 27 years old, is peacefully ending a life crowded with rat extermination and other happy Inci dents. Few cats live much beyond 14 nr 15 years During her long life Tiger is said to have killer thousands of rats. She is a light tabby, and came to the sheds for refuge during a fire at a tim ber yard close by over 26 years ago, having been driven from her home in a tlmbor-stack by the flames. When she dies she will leave a numerous progeny of over 200 to succeed her. “Barent Wonters lends donkeys on hire like his father, kills pigs, smokes hams, and occupies himself with all kinds of swinish detail work; also shaves and cuts hair, except on Sunday.' runs the legend over a barber’s shop at Rtierum. Holland. KODAKS "The Best FlidMdrqj Wman^T Ino That Can Be Prodaoed.* G&Ay ^ I Batman VUtn* «nd rom- WUmmmmmJ* pjei< stork Amatear ouppUea. Quick mail servlc* Tor out-of-fcjW mtfmanx. Send for Catalog and Prlca Llet. A. K. HAWKES CO. k d ° e d p A -t K 14 Whitehall St., Attanta, QA\ “and I think you ought to look into it. You know you have been giving me my allowance lately in bills, and I have been depositing them at the bank.” “Yes, I am aware of that,” said Nerviss. “Well, somehow’ or other I don’t like the looks of that receiving teller, Janies,” said the lady, “and so, for the past three weeks I have been putting my initials on every bill de posited up in one corner, and yester day Mr. Cleaver, the butcher, in cashing a check for me handed one of those marked notes!” "Well, suppose he did?” demanded Nerviss. “What of it?” “What of it?” echoed Mrs. Nerviss. “What of It? Doesn’t that prove that those bank people are letting other people use my money ” It w T as at this point that Nerviss was attacked by a violent spasm of coughing, which, in her description of it to the doctor, Mrs. Nerviss de clared was so like a laugh that at first she believed her husband had suddenly thonght of something funny. Praise This Remedy For Lung Trouble If the voluntarily written words of grateful people^ living In all parts of < the country, praising Eckman’s Al- \ terative. a remedy for the treatment , of coughs, colds, throat and lung < troubles, are to be believed, this med- ' icine is certainly doing a vast amount ! of good for such sufferers. This is a sample taken from many: St. Mary’s Academy, O’Nefll, Nebr. “Gentlemen: About seven years ago I was attacked with Tubercu- J S losis. 1 coughed unceasingly, could \ \ not sleep nor eat, even oould not • < speak out loud and could do no work. | 5 l had three hemorrhages, raised blood ! > most of the time and suffered with night sweats, fever and chills. A specialist of Columbus, Ohio, pro nounced my case hopeless. “Nearly five years ago I heard of 1 yqyir Alterative and procured some at ! once, with the result that I soon found myself restored to health. I consider your medicine, if faithfully \ taken, a most excellent remedy. Mother Superior permits this testi monial.” (Signed) SISTER MARIE, Sisters of St. Francis. (Above abbreviated, more on re quest.) Eckman’s Alterative lias been t proven by many years’ test to be most efficacious In cases of severe J Throat and Lung Affections, Bron- , chitis. Bronchial Asthma, Stubborn « Colds and in upbuilding the system. Does not contain narcotics, poisons or habit-forming drugs. For sale by all Jacobs’ drug stores and other 1 leading druggists. Write the Eck- man Laboratory, Philadelphia. Pa., for booklet lelhng of recoveries D additional evidence.