Newspaper Page Text
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Confessions of a
Medium
THE TUNNEL
By CHAS. D. ISAACSON.
(Copyright, 1913. by International News
Service)
T HE idea of crystal gazing is
very easily understood and, if
you're not too much "from
Missouri," very easily beloved. You
take a glass globe, which has been
perfectly rounded and polished and
s tlrfwless in its transparency. You
aise it on a stand of some kind, pref-
■ r«ibly ebony, or something else black,
to suggest mystery, and breathe un-
ntelligible words of prayer over it.
Then, when you look into it forever
after, there will appear within its
depth, pictures of your friends, no
matter how many miles away they
might be—and also pictures of your
self in the dim future, even though
you are sure you’re right here in the
present and could prove an alibi.
I mean you will be able to do this,
if you are a gifted mystic. Or. if
you’re not clever or fraudulent
enough to be one, you will be able to
have it done for you, provided you
are whiling to pay some said gifted
mystic for the interpretation.
Professor S-^ , of avenue, ad
vertises that he is a crystal gazer
among other things. Together with a
friend I called on the professor, and
found him, among other things, in
cluding a huge crystal, which looked
as clear as his schemes later ap
peared.
The professor is a little dark man
with a curious air of mustiness about
him, which quite resembled the dark
room he occupied.
A Question.
“What can I do for you, gentle
men?” he asked, bowing most ef
fusively, as though to say, "Enter—
here are two more fools.”
"I would like to learn the where-
abouts of a friend w T ho is now away
from his home. I am a little worried
about his health, and I should like
to know just what he is doing.”
“Ah, it is a gentleman,” he answer- |
ed mysteriously, as though he had
made a great discovory, hut then the
word "he” might have suggested a
lady, I suppose.
"It is,” I acknowledged, and I told
his name and gave a full description
of his appearance.
"Be seated, gentlemen,” he said
solemnly, as he drew down the
blinds, and polished the crystal.
Then he turned toward us, collect, i
his fee and whispered: "Silence, ab- j
solute silence, please.”
Very deliberately h e raised his
arms to the table, rested his elbows
upon it, put his chin between his |
t|ghtly clenched fists, and gazed
directly into the crystal. Time is
money to a mystic as well as to any I
other business man, and visions must
appear quickly to make the industry ;
profitable, for he sat thus no more
than seven seconds before something
appeared to him.
We were made aware of this fact
by a prolonged serieS of grunts, ac
companied by a knit expression
around his intelligent brow.
"M—mm- Huh—hmm. Ah—--hah.”
"It must be funny,” I whispered to
ray companion, ‘he’s* laughing.”
He Was Well.
But just then he looked at us over
his spectacles, and said slowly, "Your
friend is well. I see him in a room
with several gentlemen and ladies. He
is talking particularly to one lady,
of whom he seems very fond. There
seems to be a gathering like a wed
ding or reception.”
"Where is the place?” we queried.
“I can’t quite say, but it looks is
thpugn it might be a place in Ger
many or Italy or possibly France. I
think it is France—yes, it is France,
for there is the French flag flying ’
We looked, but we could see noth
ing—we were not wonderful mystics,
such as he. We couldn’t even see the
missing one, although he showed us
just where he was located In the
glass. But when we left we thanked
him. It was peculiar that the friend \
we inquired about was my companion,
and, although he had been seated
right alongside me, the crystal trans- j
fefred him to France, accompanied by j
a lady—at a wedding reception!
I don’t think Professor S was
half clever enough. Since he was ly
ing for his money, why didn’t he give
u$ a real whopper? Why didn’t he do
something like I did, for instance?
My crystal was four feet in diame
ter and rested on a heavy base, the
whole being placed on a table which
was covered with a cloth that reached
to the floor and swept on the rue.
One evening we gathered, about
teen of us. pulled down the hlir.ds anr
waited, while I crooned and moaned
out this hodge-podge of gypsy prayer
over the inanimate glass, which I ad
dressed aa though it were a thing of
magic and priceless worth:
"Oh dukh andral yakha.
Ja andre pani.
.Ta andremal pani.
Ja ppni jakha.
Ja duso kiji,
Oh dukh ”
I stood back of the table, with the
crystal between the visitors and mo
self. As we gazed, there suddenly
burst a streak of light into the ball.
It flickered, almost w*nt out. then
expanded and expanded until it illu
mined the room almost like day.
The light changed from yellow to
pink, artd from pink to red. and th*ra
back to white. A country scene ap
peared. It was a pretty roadway,
shaded bv huge elms. Gradually it 1
faded and a beautiful girl’s head fll’eJI
the crystal. Then, in rapid succes
sion, an old man, a group of boys, a
pair of lovers: then my own face,
somewhat aged, which I interpreted
to be a happy prediction for me. All
this and more appeared in the magic
crystal, and all gazed and saw with
their own eves.
The stand on which rested the mys
terious crystal ball was hollow: and
stretched across the top, where the
class came in contact with the ebor.
was a piece of eauzy cloth. Under
the table was a cheap little magic
lantern, worked by a wise little boy.
One would think that somebody
would have been skeptical about the
wonderful glass. But there was tol
cne who was careful enough to In-J
ve3jigate before believing. And It is ;
on this point that I wish I could Im
press the public. Don’t be taken in
so easily. If you want to pay the
fakers, learn how they do It, and J
don’t take their wonders without a
grain of salt.
Ask Any Man.
Gladys—Mamma, when people get
married, are they made into one.
Mamma—Yes, dear.
Gladys—Which one?
Mamma—Oh, they find that out
afterward, darling.
Greatest Story of Its
Kind Since Jules Verne
Advice to the
Lovelorn
The Gray Dusk
By LOUISE HEILGERS.
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
PERHAPS SHE FORGOT.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
A few weeks ago I met a
young girl at a sociable and was
quite fond of her. I made a date
two weeks ahead, and the day I
was to meet her I received a card
telling me that she had an ap
pointment. and. therefore, asked
me to call the following Sunday
during the afternoon. On my
arrival, I found nobody at home.
ANXIOUS.
It ig possible the Impression you
made on her was so faint that sho
forgot all about you. At any rate,
her conduct does not show that ehe
in greately interested.
Try it again. Don’t be discouraged
with the first rebuff. Write her. and
ask for the privilege of making a
call.
CERTAINLY NOT.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am seventeen and In love
with a young man of twenty He
has asked me to go out with him.
out I refused, because my mother
said she wanted to see the young
mun first. He wants me to meet
him on the corner of our street.
Do you think he has any respect
for me if he will not call for me
at my home? JOHANNA.
Your mother Im right, and his re
fusal to comply doesn’t Indicate any
great amount of self-respect or re*
spect for you.
Don’t meet him anywhere. Accept
your mother’s wish as law, and re
spect it.
WRITE AGAIN.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am seventeen and am deeply
in love with a man two years my
senior. Some time ago I left the
city. He asked me to write, which
I did. and have not received an an
swer yet. I tried to forget him, but
it is in vain.
A CONSTANT READER.
There is a chance that he did not re
ceive your letter. Be sure that you
have the correct addreaa and write
again—Just a friendly letter; nothing
more.
If he does not reply to that, I hope
you will try so hard to forget him the
effort will not be in vain.
Allan rose slowly, his gaze on the table.
What Has Gone Before.
The story opens with Rives, who
is in charge of the technical work
ings of the great tunnel from
America to Germany, on one of
the tunnel trains, with Baermann,
an engineer, in charge of Main
Station No. 4. They are traveling
at the rate of 118 miles an Jtfour.
Rives is in love with Maude Allan,
wife of MacKendrick Allan, whose
mind first conceived the great tun
nel scheme. After going about 50
miles iinder the Atlantic Ocean,
Rives gets out of the train. Sud
denly the tunnel seems to burst.
There is a frightful explosion. Men
are flung to death and Rives is
badly wounded. He hears some
one calling his name as he stag
gers through the blinding smoke.
Now Go on With the Story.
(From th* German of Bernhard Kellermann—
Gorman version. Copyrighted. 1913. by S.
Fischer Verlag, Berlin. fcngliah translation and
tompilat'.M} b >'
(Copyrighted, 1813. by International New* Serrioe.).
4 4 f f AH REE thousand men — three
j thousand men,” he kept re
peating to himself as he
toiled forward a foot at a time. The
words brought him at last to a full
realization of what had happened—
and still the voice called his narpe.
Once he put his hand down in the
half-light and it rested in the palm of
another hand, which by some reflex
of dying convulsion closed over it.
With half sob and half scream he
drew back and rose unsteadily to his
feet and lurched forward, following
the voice until he stumbled over a
negro laborer. Th s was the voice.
"I seen you. Mista Rives—I seen
you," moaned the negro. "Fo’ Gawd’s
sake—don’t leave me—don’t leave
me!”
At his feet was a litle cavern of
crossed girders out of which he had
cradled, and which explained the
fact rf his existence in that hell. He
got a grip on Rives' belt and clung
to it desperately.
"Don’t leave me—don’t leave,” he
moaned again and again.
"Come on,” said Rives, dully, ‘‘we’ve
go to get away from here.”
Long tendrils of pungent smoke
were curling and puffing around
them and sparks were dropping and
whirling like fireflies. Rives looked
down in the direction of the fire, and
then he shuddered and closed hi»
eyes. Over the track in which he
had come, thicker than the rocks and
broken timbers that were mingled
with them, lay the twisted, criss
crossed and heaped up naked bodies
of the dead.
"We’ve got to get away from
here!”
A Terrible Sight.
And he began toiling forward, the
negro clinging to hi$ belt and scream
ing with the pain of a crushed foot.
A little farther on he heard his
name called again and found O’Neil,
the superintendent of the drill, pinned
between two girders and a great rock.
From his hips down he was hopeless
ly crushed. But he was conscious
and .his eyes were calm in the ghast
ly glare of the firelight.
‘‘It’s all over with me, old man. ’• he
said faintly, as Rives leaned on the
, rock and bent over him.
"God!” he groaned. "Can’t I do
anything for you?”
"Yes—shoot me!” The voice was
faint, but steady. Rives shivered and
clung to the rock with both hands.
"I’m suffering horribly, Rives. For
pity's sake, end it!” said the voice.
Rives drew his arm across his eyes
and looked down at the approaching
llamijj.
"Can you use your hands?” he
asked. Then, with a sudden spasm of
unreasoning fury, he kicked the
clinging negro from him.
"Yes,” said O’Neil. With a quick
movement Rives drew a pistol from
the holster on his hip and pressed it
into the dying man’s hand. Then he
plunged blindly forward up the tun
nel, the moaning negro again clinging
to him. A report followed them.
"/The fire has reached the blasting
charges,” he said to himself.
Again they were stopped, this time
by the sound of some one running
toward them in the* direction of the
fire at a reckless speed oyer the
breakineck ruin of the tunnel floor,
and presently there appeared before
them a half-clad man with hair and
eyebrows gone, his eyes bright and
feverish and a grin on his lips.
The Survivors.
“Here! the other way!” called
Rives weakly.
The man stopped and grinned at
them.
‘‘Ha, ha!” he said, not even in an
attempt at a laugh, but more in light
derision.
"What’s the matter with you? Go
back!” ordered Rives.
“Ha, ha!” was the reply in th© same
tone, and eluding a hand that the
chief reached for him, the crazed one
ran on past them and into the flames.
Stumbling forward with the weight
of the negro, Rives struck his chin
against a timber. The shock had the
ultimate effect of clearing his brain
completely, but for the moment he
fancied that the negro had struck
him. He got swiftly to his feet and
raised his fists to defend himself be
fore he realized what had happened.
Then he helped the injured man up
and was for the first time conscious
of his own injuries. He seemed to be
burned in a dozen places. His left
arm ached with a dull, steady pain.
But now he wA master of what was
lef* of himself. With his arm aroun 1
the negro’s body, he helped him for
ward. and thus the finished product
of the world’s greatest civilization
and the straight-browed child of a
lowly people, the stronger still help
ing the weaker, stumbled forward,
through the ruin, following with their
last strength the primordial longing
for the Light and Life.
And now they heard and saw signs
of others. They had reached a section
that had *not felt the first force jf
the explosion. Groans and shrieks,
loud curses and muttered prayers
seemed to come from beneath thflr
feet and they heard the name of God
called upon in a score of tongues.
And. now and then, more terrible
than all else, high bursts of chatter
ing maniacal laughter.
The now distant but slowly ad
vancing flames threw evil shadows of
red and black through the chaos, and
the figures of the two men stood out
in uncertain bigness. They were mov
ing—going forward to Light and Life
—and all who could move followed
them. Some, indeed, were stunned
only numbed by horror and needed
but the appearance of Rives and Ms
charge to galvanize them into life,
where, otherwi.'ie, they might have
sat and died.
Others they found who. unscathed
or only slight.lv injured, had run.
blind and panic-stricken. through
the tunnel darkness until thev had
drooled of «heer exhaustion and rnadp
nt> fbeir m’nds to, (Be two hundred
and flftv miles from the light of dav.
And their numbers grew stag
gering along in the smoke and dust
with the light of the ttamee at their
backs. At last they cams out into
a section of the tunnel that was free
of wreckage. Only traces of the vio
lence of the explosion were visibl j.
It was less than five miles from thf
scene, but it might have been fifty
They were lost to all sense of dis
tance, and time. reeling onward,
driven by an in**tinct stronger than
physical strength. And now there
was only the .sound of the shuffling,
stumbling feet, low groans and curses
and the gritting of teeth as some
strong man fought with his agony.
Finally Rives became sensible >t
change in the spirit of his horrible
following. It had ben each man for
himself in a hopeless struggle for
life. Then someone had mentioned
the name of Allan—"Mac,” as he wa*>
called all over the world. Instantly
they were united in a bond of fury,
revived by a lust of vengeance.
Ignorant and unreasoning they raged
at the great chief of the tunnel
works as if be had premeditated apd
planned the cataclysm that hud
swallowed up thouteinds of their
mafes and seemingly condemned
them to a slow and horrible death in
the darkness.
Rives was with theip and had
worked with them every day. lie
had been caught as they were, and
there were no curses for him. If
an accident of destiny had depreod
that he should be at the other end
of the tunnel at the time of the ex
plosion it is probable that he would
have been included in the curses and
incoherent threats that were leveled
at his superior.
They came to a small sugstation
where supplies had been stored and
they tore the boxes open with their
bare hands. Rives warned them
loudly against the emergency lamps,
so thoy hurled these aside and loaded
themselves with provisions that none
of them could eat. Then the crazy
procession reeled on intQ dark
ness. and after hours they came Into
the view of faint lights at main
station No. 4.
A Panic of Fear.
Here Baermann had hastily con
nected a small emergency dynamo
to give some light to the scene, and,
pistol in hand, was holding the last
train in the hope that a few of the
survivor^ from the deeper workings
might find their way out wlthou*
the help of rescue parties. In vain
he had pleaded for volunteers to go
in with him. The men clambered
onto the train as fast as they came
in, and the engineers had been only
too willing to dash back to the en
trance with them. Too willing, for
there had been two tail-end collis
ions and only one track was now
open. No more trains were started
in. because the dispatchers at the en-
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trance knew the danger of another
collision with the last of the return
ing trains.
His men pleaded with Baermann t »
leave,, but he refused. They fipplly
threatened the engine driver and he
was eager to obey when the young
engineer drew his revolver and
tiireatened to shoot him if he touched
a lever.
“If one of you men come as far
forward as the engine," he said,
coolly, "he is a dead man. Were
going to wait.”
"But the train’s full.” protested one
of the foremen. "They can't get on
if they come.”
I guess we can cro\yd a few hun
dred more on.” returned Baermann.
quietly, and waved the man back with
the menacing muzzle.
At that moment came a far-off
shout from Rives' desperate hundred.-'.
Away down the tracks the men on
the trains could see the horde surg
ing forward. if they came up while
the train was still there it would be
a battle for place on the cars. A
murmur, cowardly but omnious, rang
along the train.
"Start the engines — start the
engines! ”
Baermann kept his eye on the en
gine driver and raised his pistol. The
next moment there was a flash from
a window of the forward car and a
shart report. Baermann stiffened,
threw his right arm across his face,
spun, and fc*! across the tracks.
And just as the leaders of Rive*’
survivors reached for the steps of t*>«*
rear car the train slid out into tr*»
tunnel and left them screaming an*i
cursing and running in the dark.
To Be Continued To-morrow.
Snap-
Shots
I F the world has lost all meaning,
and there seems to be no glean
ing. while gray clouds your sun
all screening—come out of doors.
When my world seems dark and
dreary, and no roof-tree Joys will
cheer me, and of life I think I’m
weary—out of doors still can hold
and enchant mo, can a little respite
grant me, can dismiss the ghosts that
haunt me, so of course I am prone to
recommending what I find my blues
is ending, and the skies new blue Is
lending. Out of doors is a place *for
deeper breathing, is tjie land of soul
unsheathing—while the sweetest In
cense wreathing out of doors, seems
to wing the lightsome hours if you’ll
just seek Nature’s bowers—out of
doors!
***** *
GLEANINGS FROM THE
PHILISTINE.
Life is a compromise between Fate
and Free Will.
True lovers always evolve a cipher
code.
The proudest of women will accept
orders from the right man.
Your own will come to you If you
hold the thought firmly—and hustle!
It is a good policy to leave a few
things unsaid.
******
A WOOD PATH.
By Bliss Carman.
At evening and at morning
By an enchanted w’ay,
I walk the world in wonder
And have no word to say.
It is the path wa traversed
One twilight, thou and I;
Thy beauty all a rapture,
My spirit ‘all a cry.
The red leaves fall upon it.
The" moon ami nflst and rain,
But not the magic footfall
That made its meaning plain.
B R LN AU COALS FRVATO
GAINESVILLE. GEORGIA (Fifty Mile* from Atlanta)
In the Heart of the Old South; Alive with the Spirit of the Hew
SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT.
The course of study of Rrenau has recently been revised in accord
ance with standards of foremost American universities and colleges.
Hereafter the degree of A. B. will be the only degree granted. The re
quirements for admission to Freshman Class are fourteen units.
TWO-YEAR COURSES.
For the benefit of many girls who can remain in college only two
years, courses are arranged so thut diploma may be received and the
title of Associate in Arts conferred at the end of two years after the
high school. This is similar to the practice of the University of Chicago.
PREPARATORY COURSES.
Courses equivalent to the work of a first-class high school are offered,
and provision is made to receive pupils as young as fourteen years
of age.
MUSIC, ORATORY, ART, DOMESTIC 8CIENCE.
These subjects are especially Suited to the needs of the average
woman, and may l>e offered at Brenau as electives for the A. B. degree.
Diplomas in each of these subject'* are also offered.
Brenau has no competitors in the South in these special courses, and
the demand for teachers who are graduates of Brenau is far greater
than can b« supplied.
The next term begins September 11. Only a few places are still open.
NEW BOOK READY.
A beautiful new book, entitled “Brenau Girl/* has just been pub
lished. It is sent free upon request.
Address:
H. J. PEARCE or T. J. SIMMONS, President*
BRENAU, Box 16 . GAINESVILLE, GA.
I T was very quiet in the lane and
the scent of flowering things nes
tled about one’s throat like pale,
cool hands in the darkness. Beneath
a big copper beech that overhung
the path some beneficent Paris coun
cil, with a kindly forethought for lov
ers, had placed a rustic seat that girt
the width of the tree with a strong
wooden arm.
A woman sat waiting there alone,
the white of her skirt spotting tre
dusk like a flower, all the rest of her
blurred by the approaching night.
There was a smell of roses about
her. One divined that they were
pinned somewhere about her gown.
Presently a lemon-colored moon
slipped above the treetops and lit the
lane with the fantastic gleam of a
Chinese lantern.
Presently, too, there came footsteps
and a man Joined the woman sitting
no still beneath the leaves.
The little night things walking all
about might have heard the sound
of lover’s greeting had they listened,
and had they not long ago lost all
interest in lovers.
It was the woman who spoke first,
aj« she withdrew herself from his
caress
"I have ben waiting ever so long
for you,’ she said fretfully. "What
kept you?”
He hesitated drawing further back
into the shadow before he spoke. She
noticed that his breath came hur
riedly and his voice was uneven
as he answered:
"Ralph kept me. We went for a
walk in the woods—rand—and” His
voice fell into silence.
The woman leaned forward eagerly
"Did you—did you tell him?” she
asked, tenderly.
Then, as he did not answer: "Oh, I
can see you didn’t. He drew a long
breath. "W r ell, if you are afraid”—
she flung the word at him like a
taunt—“to tell him. I will. I’m sick
and tired of this deceit. Besides, it
isn’t fair to Ralph to let him go on
thinking I’m still going to marry him
next month." »
He did not sem to hear; he was
staring gloomily away into space.
Then—"Have you noticed," she be
gan, irrelevantly, "how the leaves
seem to speak to-night? Why, over
there in the copice they seemed al
most to shriek to me" -Again the
silence fell.
"Is that where you left Ralph—In !
the coppice?" she Inquired anxiously i
She felt rather than saw the sudden
shudder that swept him at her words
"Why dQ you ask me that?” he
asked loudly, turning upon her go
fiercely that she shrank back in alarm, i
"Of course, I left him there. He—nc
told me he wanted to be alone.”
The woman rose hastily, with a soft
little rustle of skirts. "Then if he’s
still out he may come here," she said,
anxiously. "Supposing he rhkes it
into his head to stroll out of the wood
into the lane? It’s quite close, you
know’,”
”He won’t come. No fear of that.”
The man rose, too, and spoke with
sudden energy. “He’s far enough
away by this time.’’ He laughed a
queer, ugly laugh.
A streak of moonlight slipping t.»
his face showed him livid, his fore
head wet with sweat. Involuntarily
she stretched out her hand as if to
ward away some vile thing.
"I don’t understand," she whispered,
tensely. "But I feel—I know’ there Is
something wrong."
He caught her to him. “What could
there be wrong,” he asked, his face
against her hair, "so long as you are
mine?”
But hastily she drew away from
him. "What—what is that?” sh-*
stammered. He followed her staring
eyes to where they rested on his
shirt cuff. There was fear in his face
before he spoke.
"Oh, that,” he said—"I cut my wrls; I
at dinner. The knife slipped. Noth
ing to worry ab« ut—the merest
scratch.” He drew the sleeve of his
coat over his shirt cuff.
She stood staring* down at the dust
of the lane, afraid to think or move.
A great terror seemed to envelop her
from head to fortt. The man stood
watching her for a moment, and them
abruptly caught her to him.
"Kitty, kias me. he said, passion
ately.
But she was rigid in his arms.
"What have you done to Ralph?”
she asked.
And even as ghs spoke she knew’
the answer; knew before there tarns
the beat of hurried feet down the lane,
and a man came rushing past with
staring, frightened eyes, crying wild
ly that someone in the coppice beyond
was dead.
Lost on Him.
"Hallo, Jim! You're the very man I
want to see. I’ve got a new one for
you.”
"A new what?”
"A new conundrum.”
"There isn’t such a thing,’’ asserted
Jim. "If it’s good it- isn’t new; if it’g
new. it isn’t—*'
"Oh, stop It, man, and listen! What’s
the difference between a poet and a
plumber?”
“A poet and a plumber? That’s easy
enough. A poet hasn’t any money, and
a—”
"My good chap, you’re miles off the
track," his friend interrupted. "This
is the answer: A poet pipes a lay, and
a plumber lays a—”
"My plumber doesn’t,” began Jim.
"He—”
But there Jim stopped. His friend
was stalking off, muttering fiercely:
"What’s the good of telling a joke to
a man with no more sense of humor
than an ox?”
Not Even False.
Teacher—Children, *• can any of you
name an animal that has no teeth?
Little Boy—Yes, ma’am, I can.
Teacher—Well, what is the name of
the animal?
Little Boy—My grandma.
With
in your Coffee cup
the presence of caf
feine is largely done
away with and your
coffee bills practi
cally cut in two.
%lb., lib. and Sib.
grocer9.
r at
Cheek-Neal Coffee Co.,
NasfcviQa. Houston, Jacksonville.
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a
The Call
of the
North Woods
4J Have you ever felt the thrill
of an out-of-doors vacation —
a few weeks of real life by the side of some
picturesque lq£e — away from everything that
savors of your daily toil?
<J From the Great North Woods of Wisconsin and
Northern Michigan Wild Nature — innumerable beauti
ful lakes and streams — the breath of the pine — the
gamy bass —the vicious muskellunge — the a^ile trout
and the toothsome pike—send out a call that ‘the man
who knows” finds hard to resist.
<| Each summer he returns to the scene of his last year’s
sport; each summer the appeal reaches many more who
have not known the charms of this region.
tj Why don’t you arrange to go ? Taka a holiday in this wonderful
country, where a thousand sparkling lakes
teeming with gamy fish await you.
For full particular, apply to tiaket agents
or s<14rcu
Chicago and North Western Ry.
N. M BREEZE, G. A.
434 Walnut St., Cincinnati, Ohio ' Nw<03j
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