Newspaper Page Text
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Lost Books That
Caused Tragedies
The Joys of Motor Boating
Startling Facts Concerning 1 his Universal Sport, Based on Articles in Motor
Boating Magazine for May
t -r THEN Thomas Carlyle had fln-
yy ished the first volume of hi«
"French Revolution,” a work
which had coat him months of In-
ceasant toil and the verification of
thousunda of facts and references, he
lent the manuscript to John Stuart
Mill. Surely, that philosopher had
one of the worst tanks ever alloted to
a mortal man when he had to tell
the "Page of Chelsea* that the price
less manuscript had been thrown Into
the Are by a careless servant, and
unly a few charred leaves—still to he
^een in Cheyne Row, Chelsea—re
mained to tell the tale.
Sir Inaac Newton was the victim
of a similar catastrophe, but the
“friend” responsible was not human,
but canine—his favorite litle dog. He
left him in his study alone, and when
h' came back found that he had
“chewed” the mathematical calcula
tions of many strenuous months.
Many accounts My that Newton took
It very calmly, but the truth is that
it preyed upon his mind to such an
extent a? to cause much temporary
mental aberration
Byron’s ‘‘Memoirs.'’
One of the great losses to literature
was the burning of six books of
Spencer’s “Faery Queen,” which the
poet is said to have left in his house
in County Tyrone, Ireland. A re
bellion broke out and the place wae
burned: and not only did the poet’s
youngest child perish in the flames,
hut, it is said, also about as much of
the great poem as we possess at
present.
All lovers of Byron are aware that
this erratic genius found time in his
short adventurous life to write his
memoirs, and that on his death these
passed Into the hands of his friend
Thomas Moore, who, exercising a dis
cretion committed to him. promptly
consigned the manuscript to the
flames.
No doubt the writer of “Irish Melo
dies” had very good and highly prop
er reasons for taking this decisive
step, and it is quite likely that the
publication of the memoirs would not,
for obvious reasons, have been pos
sible for many years after the poet’s
death; yet as succeeding generations
have been brought face to face with
the peculiar complex genius of Byron,
with Its lofty moods and its many
dark places, they have felt need of
the light which only the records writ
ten hv a vanished hand could have
supplied.
Despondent Strindberg.
Since the death of Auguste Strind
berg. the famous Swedish novelist and
dramatist—who, by the way, had
much in common with Byron—many
of his works have been translated
into the English language and are
already the center of heated contro
versy in literary\ circles. It Is possi
ble. therefore, that the powerful, if
somewhat misanthropical writings of
this Swedish recluse may be read and
treasured by generations to come. But
all liis works will not go down to
posterity, for it is said that in a sud
den fit of despondency Strindberg
himself destroyed a number of his
manuscripts, which, through lack of
tirm* or inclination, he never wrote
»gain.
Are Children a Duty?
In This Article, Which Is No. 3 in the Series, the Author Says
That the Little Ones Are Clearly Entitled
to Justice.
The Girl With the Aigrette
H
By GARRETT P. S2RVISS.
T
HE joy of motion! How it has ;
been heightened by the autocar,
the aeroplane and the motor ;
boat! Heightened not merely because I
the motion has been rendered swifter j
and more sensuous, but because the j
driving power has been almost spirit- ,
uallzed. The little motors are like j
mysterious gnomes,and one never tires
of seeing them miraculously doing the
work of giants. It goes far toward
satisfying the universal longing of |
humanity to be able to accomplish
things by simply willing that they bo
done.
A measure of the delight that these ,
new forms of locomotion afford is
shown in the astonishingly rapid
spread of the use of the motor boat.
1 confess my surprise in viewing the '
chart, jmblished in the May number !
of Motor Boating Magazine, which ex- !
hibits the dfstributbm of the 256,950
motor boats now in use in the United j
States.
More than 50,000 of these are in the
Middle Western States, a thousand
miles or more from the ocean, and
there are even several hundreds in
the mountain States of the Far West'
Wherever there exists a little lake, or
a navigable stream, the pleasures of
motor boating can be, and are, en
joyed. The motor boat draws little
water, and Is very powerful and flexi
ble in its movements, so that It
would seem to be an interesting ex
perlment to try It in some of the wild
canyons of the West.
On the Pacific.
On the Pacific Coast the charm of
the motor boat appears to be more
universally appreciated even than in
the East, for 1 find, from the same
authority, that California and its
neighbors have twelve of these fairy
craft to every thousand of the popu-
Women and
girls as well
as men are
keen for the
delights of
motor
boating.
By VIRGINIA TERHUNE VAN DE WATER
Do You Know
Thai—
K ING ALFONSO is credited with
forming a collection of objects
associated with the various at
tempts against his life. Among other
items he possesses the teat of a feed
ing bottle with which an attempt was
made to poison him at the age of
eight months; the walking stick with
which a discontented servant tried
to brain him; pieces of the bomb
thrown at him in Barcelona; the
skeleton of one of the horses killed
by the bomb attempt in the Due De-
Rivoli, Paris; and fragments col
lected in the street after the ex
plosion of the infernal machine hurled
at the royal carriage on his wedding
day.
A curiosity of nest building that is
probably unique has Just been discov
ered at one of Messrs. Chisers & Sons’
farms near Cambridge. Within a short
distance of the jam factory six fruit
baskets were tied together &nd hung
in a cart shed, where a number of
men are often at work. In every one
of these baskets a bird has built its
nest, and in two cases the nests have
eggs. The builders include black
birds. song-thrushes and missel-
thruehes, and as the baskets are be
ing left alone, it is hoped that each
mother will hatch out her brood
Mr 'William Augustus Gordon Hake,
who is now 102, is easily the oldest
living English barrister He is a
cousin of General Gordon, lives at
Brighton, which seems to make a
specialty of residents who have long
passed the allotted span, and has still
sufficient vitality to brush aside in
fluenza and bronchitis and little trou
bles of that nature. The curious in
these matters will be interested to
learn that he attributes his long life
and good health to abstemiousness
and plenty of exercise.
A Poisoned Arrow.
A pharmacist in Pasadena had a
stranger call in and ask for a bottle of
alcohol.
“I'm afraid 1 can't let you have it
without a doctor s prescription,” he an
swered
•Why not ” Do T look like a man who
would kill himself?”
“I wouldn i go so far a» to say that
sir; but if I looked like you I should
be tempted." \
F parents cannot do justice to children
after they are here, there can scarce
ly be any fulfilment x ot duty to them
in bringing them here.
By “Justice” I do not mean luxury.
Money In abundance is not good for
children, and it is well for them to learn
self-denial in some directions. Your
son may not be able to own a motor car
or a saddle horse, as does your neigh
bor’s son, and yet he can be quite as
happy as the wealthier lad; he may
have to deny himself many luxuries if
he would save money for a trip to the
mountains or seashore, and he may have
to economize carefully to make his al
lowance (all you can afford to give
him), supply all his needs. He is none
the worse, indeed, is rather the better,
for all these facts.
But he Is no better for not having
•lothes that are decent enough for him
to wear in the circle to which he was
born; he is none' the happier for being
denied the education to which his in
tellect entitles him.
It is a sad thing for an ambitious and
j bright lad, with intellectual tastes and
thirst for knowledge, to have to en
ter an office as soon as he is out of
grammar school so thaOhe may earn the
; money that is needed at home. He can
be young but once, and in relinquishing
ie education that he wants to take, or
which you should insist upon his tak-
ig, he is letting slip opportunities
nch he can never recall, changing,
perhaps, the whole current of his life
nd entering the race handicapped from
his youth up.
Is there any duty that compels so
many children to be born that this state
of affairs is a necessity? Are not par
ents performing their duty mpre when
they have tw'o or three children whom
they can feed, clothe and educate prop
erly than in having seven or eight, to
not one of whom they can do justice?
Of course it is a high ambition to
bear children with the idea of training
them to be such good men and women
that the world will be better for their
having lived in it. That is the ambi
tion which all may feel for their sons
and daughters after they are here. How
many parents have their children with
that special ambition in mind?
Finally, may it not be that we OWE
a duty to the children themselves? Are
they to be left out of the reckoning?
Are we to rush them in numbers into
i sphere in which they cannot develop
he best that is in them? Should we
Teel no hesitation in ushering them into
family already so full that w r e wonder
•'rom week to week how all the mouths
are to be fed and all the bodies clothed?
Who‘that looks at the “little inoth-
rs” carrying one child and leading an
ther, burdened with weights and re
sponsibilities far beyond their years, old
before their time, dare say that the
parents of these little burden-bearers
fulfil any duty to God or man in bring
ing a child into the world every year?
Some one must suffer for it, and in this
performance of what some people deem
a duty the sufferers are not only the
parents but the innocent children them
selves.
Said a happy grandmother to a friend:
I am sure that children are a duty.
.> hat would m.v life be without my
idren and grandchildren?”
This woman did not think deeply
pnough when she asked that question
to appreciate that the tender care she
receives is not the result of her having
merely given birth to her children. It
is. the result 6f her proper training of
vhe children after they are here. Her
circumstances were such that she was
enabled to do full justice to her one
girl and two boys, so that each char
ter was properly developed, each
nind well trained, each intellect allow
ed to improve and expand. That was
where thus mother did her best worn.
>ut if asked if she had her children
•COM A SEN§E OF DUTY she ^ouid
reply truthfully in the negative. She
loved children, she wanted them, but
e loved them too much to have more
of them than she could care for.
The Psalmist declared tha. children
were a gift from the Lord. Many par
ents feel that they are, and they are
rht in declaring that they are bles
sings and delights in many homes, mak-
' life well worth the living. But
at the Lord is responsible for send-
og children here, marred before birth
inherited evils, and crushed after
rth by pain and want—one can hardly
believe; and the statement that bringing
ddren into the world under all con-
litions and circumstances is the duty
every married couple is one to which
* thoughtful lover of his kind will
agree.
ERE Is a small, smart hat
that can be made up in
expensively or otherwise,
just a" milady can afford.
It is modeled after the popu
lar rolled-up brim shape, which
is fast becoming a favorlte^this
season.
If one can afford a large
aigrette, the hat becomes a thing
of great beauty.
: -A,
h.
A7
m
$
(The brim ofj
this hat is 5
rolled on the
left side and;
is lined with:
a brocaded
satin in the
same color,
forming a
point on thej
right side.
Its only
trimming is j
the white
aigrette put j
at the ex
treme back.
| WITHIN THE LAW
A Powerful Story of
Adventure, Infringe and Love
Copyright, 1913, by the H. K. Fly Com
pany. The play “Within the Law” is
copyrighted by Mr. Veiller and this
novelization of it is published by his
permission. The American Play Com
pany is the sole proprietor of the ex
clusive rights or the representation
and performance of “Within the Law”
in all languages.
The map, reproduced by permission from Motor Boating Magazine for May, shows at a glance how the
sport of motor boating has spread over the country, and the proportion of motor boats to the population in
various sections. The hydroplane is the “Ankle Deep.” which has shown a speed of more than fifty miles an hour.
lation, while on the Atlantic seaboard
the number is only four to the
thousand of population.
Then look at the photographs of
racing motor boats! They seem to be
fairly leaping from the waves. The
danger Is minimized because the
water is no terror to good swimmers,
or to those provided with proper
• floats And the joy of the swift mo
tion is increased by the whipping
spray and salt breeze.
Fortunately & motor boat is com
paratively a cheap means of amuse
ment and outdoor exercise. Almost
anyone can own one, and anybody
can learn to run his own boat. The
coat of fuel and of keeping is small.
And no healthier form of sport could
well be imagined. If you live in the
country, your own little lake or
winding river will afford you many
pleasant surprises as you glide
through its shaded reaches, or into
and out of its hidden bays. If you I
are more ambitious, and have a larger
boat, you mky make astonishing voy
ages on the sea itself, running in to
the shores and exploring shallow'
waters where no ordinary boat would
be able to penetrate. You may fish,
you may camp, you may anchor, you
may take refuge, almost anywhere
you please.
A Wonderful Cruise.
And all th» while you will be learn
ing the art of navigation and ac
quiring skill in the management of
marine machinery. You will find out
how to lay your course by the com
pass, or the stars, or the buoys and
landmarks. You will also learn the
art of keeping a log. which in itself
is delightful. A ships log Is always
fascinating: that of a motorboat Is no
less so. It is the diary of adventure*
By your winter fire you will take out
your log book, with its tarry smell
recalling your summer cruise, and
live over again your adventures as
you turn its pages.
In the magazine to which I have
referred I have been perusing the
story of a motorboat cruise of 2,600
miles along the Atlantic coast, in
cluding the crossing of the Ever
glades of Florida and Lake Okeecho
bee, the mere names of which are
like a breath of romance. I only wish
the writer had told more about that
enchanted region, with Its cypresses
snd palms. Its tangled waterways and
all its tropical trangeness and mag
nificence. Such things never fail to
stir the imagination.
There Is a practical aspect of motor
boating along the coast which occurs
to me. It Is capable of proving of
great value in the defense of the
country by familiarizing a large num
ber of persons with short outlines,
depth of water, hidden channels,
range sights, etc., which might be of
By MARVIN DANA from the
Play by BAYARD VEILLER.
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
Aggie took advantage of the pause.
Her voice was ueid.
“Some people are sneaks—just
sneaks! ”
Somehow, the speech was welcome
to the girl, gave her a touch of cour
age sufficient for cowardly protesta
tions. It seemed to relieve the ten-
slpn drawn by the other woman's
torment. It was more like the abuse
that was familiar to her. A gush of
tears came.
•Til never forgive myself, never!”
she moaned.
Contempt mounted in Mary's breast.
Her Voice Rang With Contempt.
“Oh, yes, you will,” she said,
malevolently. “People forgive them
selves pretty easily." The contempt
checked for a little the ravages of her
grief “Stop crying,” she command
ed, harshly. "Nobody is going to hurt
you." She thrust the money again
toward the girl, and crowaed It into
the ha If-reluctant, half-greedy hand.
"Take It, and get out.” The contemp
In her voice rang still sharper, mor
dant.
E*en the puling creature writhed
under the lash of Mary's tones. She
sprang up, slinking back a step.
“I can t take it!” she cried, whim
pering. But she did not drop the
money.
“Take it while you have it,” Mary
counseled, still with the contempt that
pierced even the hardened girl’s sense
of selfishness. She pointed toward
the door. “Go—before I change «iy
mind.”
The girl needed, indeed, no second
bidding. With the money still
clutched in her hand she went forth
swiftly, stumbling a little in her
SYNOPSIS.
critical Importance in case of war. hMte fearful lest, at the laat me-
Every observant motor boatman may ment , the woman she had so wrongsd
make himself a valuable auxiliary In ihou i d Jn f ac t change in mod, take
naval defense. In an emergency he j b4ck th# mone y—ay, even give her
might become a volunteer pilot of over t0 thM terrible man with the
Indispensable importance at a crisis. eyet 0 f h ate, to put her to death as
Read Cooper's story of "The Pilot” | the deserved
and you will see what I mean. The
same observation applies to metor-
boat exploration along the shores of
the Great Lakes. And think how de
lightfully this knowledge can be ob
tained!
KODAKS
BMiSV The Br.f t inl.hln, frlp-j
Ipj That Can Be Product *
I E mud SB Films and <*cw-
p*o*r stoat; amateur supplier.
Q-iicA mall sendee for out*«f vvni c**toa*»r*.
Send fer Catalog end Price List,
A. K. HAWKES CO. •ggSR
U WAltHAll SW.Atlanta, OlW
“You didn’t buy that big: touring
car you were looking at last fall, did
you, Hawkinsf?” said Garraway.
“No." snid Hawkins. “1 got a couple
of little runabouts instead.”
“Runabouts?” reported Garraway.
“Yep.” said Hawkins. “My wife pre
sented me with twins. Can’t afford
too many luxuries all at once.”
"I don’t see how you can laugh this
way.” said the Sheriff, as he attached
Dubbleigh’s car for a debt owed to
Higby. and observed that Dubbleigh
seemed highly amused bv it.
“Oh, I Just can’t help it.” laughed
Dubbleigh. “1 only owe Higby $500
and it’ll cost him three times tl\at to
run that car six months.”
“My dear." said hhe New York man,
“where did you get the new wait
ress’.”’
"She says* she used to be in vaude
ville.” replied his wife.
“Good. Nona we van have home
dinners v^ith cabaret features.”
“What did they give yous<
last house?”
"Gimme three minutes
turning loose de dog.”
at dat
before
“Why do politicians wear high hats
and frock coats?” asked the person
who makes trivial inquiries.
“Well.” replied Senator Sorghum,
“the high hat and the frock coat con
stitute the appropriate attire for occa
sions both of mourning and congrat
ulation. And every election makes a
politician feel as if he were going to
n funeral or a wedding.”
“Your flow'ers in the hall seem flour
ishing.”
“Doing nicely, thank you.”
“They evidently get plenty of wa
ter; hut watering plants ie such a
task.”
“Not for me. The bath room above
leaks.”
He was* a stingy guy and he
Cared not for hoots or jeers;
When asked to give to charity
He said: “I’ll give three cheers."
“I had to kill my
ing,” said the Boob.
dog this morn-
Was he mad?" asked the Cheerful
Idiot.
"Well, he didn’t seem any too well
pleased,” replied the Boob.
He Leaped Acrois the Room.
Freed from the miasma of that
presence, Mary remained motionless
for a long minuter then sighed from
her tortured heart. She urned and
went slowly to her chair at the desk,
and seated herself languidly, weak
ened by the ordeal through which she
had passed.
“A girl I didn’t know!” she said
bewiideringly; "perhaps had never
spoken to—who smashed my life
like that! Oh, If it wasn’t so awful
it would be—funny! It would be fun
ny!" A gust of hysterical laughter
burst from her. “Why, it is funny!”
she cried, wildly. “It is funny!”
"Mary!” Garson exclaimed sharp
ly. He leaped across the room to
face her. “That’s no good!” he said
severely.
Aggie, too, rushed forward.
"No good at all!” she declared
loudly.
The interference recalled the dis
tressed woman to herself. She made
a desperate effort for self-command.
Little by little, the unmeaning look
died down, and presently she sat si
lent and moveless, staring at the two
with stormy eyes out of a wan face.
“We Understand.”
“You were right.” she said at last,
in a lifeless voice. “It’a done, and
can’t be undone. I was a fool to let
it affect me like that. I really
thought I had lost all feeling about
it. but the sight of that girl—the
knowledge that she had done it—
brought it all back to me. Well, you
understand, don’t you?”
"We understand,” Garson said,
grimly. But there was more than
grimness, Infinitely mere, in the ex-
Mary Turner, an orphan, employed
in Edward Gilder's department store,
is accused of theft and sent to prison,
though innocent. Aggie Lynch, a
convict friend of Mary’s at Burn
sing, sees good “possibilities” for her
in the world of crime. Upon Mary's
release she is continually hounded
and in desperation throws herself
into the North River. Joe Garson, a
forger, rescues her and keeps her
and Aggie in luxury, though living
chaste lives. Mary becomes the lead
er of a band of swindlers, robbing
only the unscrupulous and keeping
always “within the law.’’ Gilder’s
son Dick meets and loves Mary, who I
seeks to wreak vengeance on the
father through the son. A girl who
has been in prison Hears of Mary's
charitable disposition, calls on her <
and faints from want of nourishment.
Now Go on With the Story
presslon of his clear, glowing eyes.
Aggie thought that it was her turn
to voice herself, which she did with
out undue restraint.
“Perhaps we do, but I dunno! I’ll
tell you one thing, though. If any
dame sent me up for three years and
then wanted money from me, do you
think she’d get it? Wake me up any
time In the night and ask me. Not
much—not a little bit much! I'd
hang on to it like an old woman to
her last tooth.” And that was Ag
gie’s final summing up of her impres
sions concerning the scene she had
just witnessed.
A Bridegroom Spurned,
After Aggie’s vigorous comment
there followed a long silence. That
volatile young person, little troubled
as she was by sensitiveness, guessed
the fact that just now further dis
cussion of the event would be dis
tasteful to Mary, and so she betook
herself discreetly to a cigarette and
the Illustrations of a popular maga
zine devoted to the stage.
As for the man, his reticence was
really from a fear lest in speaking at
all he might speak too freely, might
betray the pervasive violence of his
feeling. So, he sat motionlese and
wordless, his eyes carefully ayoiding
Mary in order that she might’ not be
disturbed by the invisible vibrations
thus sent from one to another. Mary
herself was shaJcen to the depths,
A great weariness, a weariness that
cried the worthlessness of all things,
had fallen upon her. It rested leaden
on her soul. It weighed down her
body as well, though that mattered
little indeed. Yet, since she could
minister to that readily, she rose and
went to a settee on the opposite side
of the room where she arranged her
self among the cushions In a posture
more luxurious than her rather pre
cise early training usually permitted
her to assume In the presence of oth
ers.
There she rested, and soon felt the
tides of energy again flowing in her
blood, and that same vitality, too
wrought healing even for her agon-1
ized soul, though more slowly. The
perfect health of her gave her
strength to recover speedily from the
shock she had sustained.
Her Hair Sparkled.
It was this health that made the
glory of the flawless skin, white with
a living white that revealed the cours
ing blood beneath, and the crimson;
lips that bent in smiles so tender, or
so wistful, and the limpid eyes in!
which always lurked fires that some
times burst into flame, the lustrous'
mass of undulating hair that sparkled I
In .Che sunlight like an aureole to her!
face or framed it In heavy splendors j
with its shadows, and the supple
erectness of her graceful carriage, the j
lithe dignity of her every movement.
But at last she stirred uneasily and
sat up. Garson accepted this as a
sufficient warrant for speech.
“You know—Aggie told you—that
Cassidy was up here from headquar
ters. He didn’t put a name to it, but
I’m on.” Mary regarded him inquir
ingly, and he continued, putting tb^
fact with a certain brutal bluntness
after the habit of his class. “I guess 1
you’ll have to quit seeing young Gil
der. The bulls are wise. His father
has made a holler.”
“Don’t let that worry you, Joe,” she
said tranquilly. She allowed a few
seconds to go by, then added as if
quite indifferent: "I was married to
Dick Gilder this morning.” There
came a squeal of amazement from
Aggie, a start of incredulity from
Garson
“Yes.” Mary repeated evenly, "I was
married to him this morning. That
was my important engagement,’’ she
added with a smile toward Aggie.
For some intuitive reason, mysterious
to herself, she did not care to meet
the man’s eyes at that moment.
Aggie sat erect, her baby face alive
with worldly glee.
"My Gawd, what luck!” she ex
claimed, noisily. “Why, he’s a king
fish, he is. Gee! But I’m glad you
landed him!”
“Thank you,” Mary said, with a
smile that was the result of her sense
of humor rather than from any ten
derness.
It was then that Garson spoke. He
was a delicate man in his sensibili
ties at times, in spite of the fact that
he followed devious methods in his
manner of gaining a livelihood. So,
now, he put a question of vital sig
nificance.
“Do von love him?”
The question caught Mary all un
prepared, but she retained her self-
control sufficiently to make her an
swer in a voice that to the ordinary
ear would have revealed no last
tremor.
"No,” she said. She offered no final
explanation, no excuse, merely state!
the fact in all its finality.
Aggie Looked Shocked.
Aggie was really shocked, though
for a reason altogether sordid, not one
whit romantic.
“Ain’t he young?" she demanded,
aggressively. "Ain’t he good looking,
and loose with his money something
scandalous? If I met up with a fellow
as liberal as he, if he was three times
his age, I could simply adore him!"
It was Garson who pressed the topic
with an inexorable curiosity born of
his unselfish interest in the woman
concerned.
’’Then, why did you marry him?” he
asked. The sincerity of him -was ex
cuse enough for the seeming indelica.
cy of the question. Besides, he felt
himself somehow- responsible. He had
given back to her the gift of life,
which she had rejected. Surely, he
had the right to know the truth.
It seemed that Mary believed her
confidence his due, for she told him
the fact.
”1 have been working and scheming
for nearly a year to do it,” she said,
with a hardening of her face that
spoke of indorpitable resolve. "Now,
it’s done.” A vindictive gleam shot
from her violet eyes as she added:
"It’s only the beginning, too.”
To Be Continued To-morrow.
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-To Women-
Seeking Health and Strength
For those ills peculiar to women Dr. Pierce ®
recommends his “Favorite Prescription” as gj
“THE ONE REMEDY” 0
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A medicine prepared by regular graduated physician of unus
ual experience in treating woman’s diseases—carefully adapted
to work in harmony with the most delicate feminine constitution.
All medicine dealers have sold it with satisfaction to cus
tomers for the past 40 years. It is now obtainable in liquid or
sugar-coated tablet form at the drug store—or send 50one-cent
stamps for a trial box, to Buffalo.
Every woman may write fully and confidentially to Dr. Pierce,
Invalids’ Hotel and Surgical Institute, Buffalo, N. Y., and may be
sure that her case will receive careful, conscientious, confidential
consideration, and that experienced medical advice will be given
to her absolutely free.
Dr. Pierce*a Pleasant Pellets regulate and invigorate stomach, liv
er and bowels. Sugar coated, tiny granules easy to take as candy.
OW are you, old sport?” said
Jepson to Simcoe, who, sup
ported by a crutch and a cane,
came slowly down the sunlit street. Sim
coe was swathed until he resembled a
rauinmy; he moved witty extreme car'e.
When he perceived Jepson he smiled
wanly.
“I don’t feel very well,” he returned
wearily. “I don’t seem to get much bet
ter somehow.”
“What are you doing for it?” Inquired
Jepson. “That has a lot to do with
how you feel, you. Now. I’ve got a sec
ond cousin whose wife’s mother knew’ a
man who was down flat on his back s
with something or other, and he took—
let’s see, I am not sure that I know
just what it was—but, anyway, it was
some sort of medicine that you rub on
and take internally, too! I don’t doubt
but that any druggist can tell you the
name of it, if you tell him what it’s
for. You get some and try it, and
maybe it will cure you as quick as it did
that fellow.
Simcoe held up his thin hands. “Na
use,” he said. “If it’s known to medi
cal science I’ve already tried it. I’ve
changed medicine once every three or
four days for a year or so; I try a new
preparation every time I turn around.
I think I get worse all the time.”
“Why don’t you hunt up a new doc
tor?” queried Jepson, with a sudden in
spiration.
“Doctors!” snorted Simcoe, for the
moment aroused from his lethargy - .
"Doctors! I’ve had more doctors than
there are men in the Mexican army.
I’ve had doctors that give medicine in
large doses, and doctors that give medu
cine in small doses; I’ve had doctors that
rub and maltreat their patients until
most of them either die or get well in
self-defense; I’ve had doctors that give
various sorts of treatment, and some
oat don’t seem to give any at all. I’ve
had ’em old and young, male and fe
male, white, red, black and tan and
yellow—all sorts and conditions of doc-
>ors. but none of them is able to make
me feel as I ought to feel.”
“Ever try the baths?” ventured Jep
son.
“All of them,’ said Simcoe. ‘'Sulphur,
salt, mud, steam, hot and cold water,
hops—I’ve been the whole route. And
every new' kind of bath does me up
worse than the one before. I must be in
awful shape, and I don’t know for the
life of me what I’m going to do with
myself now."
•Til tell you, old man," counseled
Jepson, after deliberation, "if I were i
in yor shoes I wouldn’t do anything.
Maybe no treatment at all is what you
need until you get rested up again.
Anyway, the things you’ve tried haven’t
helped you, you say, and this might.”
“Not do anything?” exclaimed Sim
coe in amazement. “Why, if I took a
chance like that I’d probably be deac
as a pickled eel before to-morrow. I’m*
on my way now to see a new aort of
medical genius that puts his patieq#.«
in a barrel and piles hot bricks on their
heads. It’s said that he has worked
some wonderful cures.
“But as for me, I don’t hope for very
much. It doesn’t seem to be of much
use, because the more I doctor, some-
the worse I get, and the worse
I get the more I have the doctor, and
the more I doc—”
But Jepson had fled.