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One Woman’s Story . By VIRGINIA TERHUNE VAN DE WATER voice .small which operation his brow looked lighter cnatting quite geniany. Genevieve felt, sick at heart. This as In anticipation, hut she kept hy lio ir side, thankful that she was not ex pected to say anything. On their r< - turn she asm in expressed u wish to leave, and this time no demur was •startled cfy made them look back It was from Hr. Molesworth, and the It was Or. Cameron who spoke; ms wife sensed incapable of uttering a me.” said he, ”1 did not mean to be so tragic; but 1n our short absence my cuffs have been taken out of my over coat pocket, and though the loss is not great, it is certainly annoying ” •*I know who did it," cried « near them. “It wa > that slim man who came in after But I>r. Cameron did not k-< p his wife waiting any longer to hear these simple explanations; the affair seemed altogether too puerile Would he have thought any more se riously of it had he known that written on the inside of one of those cuffs tin one which had been on the l and which Dr. Molesworth had extended to Gene vieve were written in large characters these words “Beware! I was t ot released so sud denly without a motve.” Husband and Wife. 1 - T must not he supposed that the sud den and remarkable change which had taken place in Mrs. Cameron's physical appearance had passed un noticed or uncommented upon hy so ciety. it was only loo widely discussed, and while it formed the basis of innu merable compliments, it also awakened an aqua! number of surmises and ques tionable remarks They were sitting in the parlor, and . Dr. Cameron, anxious to behold her | smile again, was talking gaily Sud denly he paused and asked her a ques tion about some one they lad seen. She answered but vaguely. Her thought a were elsewhere Judging from the di rection of her ga/.e, they were on her self She sat where she could see her own image mirrored in the glass before her, and it was upon this elogaht figure, clad in gray Velvet and pearls, that her eyes were fixed with an intent ness which might have suggested the pres ence of innate vanity, if the disdain which curled her lip had n* t shown that «hf half despised the beauty which re quired so much sph dor to adorn it. Her husband's eyes followed hers and glistened merrily “An imposing figure," he ■ railed. “Did you think you would ever be a famous beauty. Genevieve?" She rose up with an instantaneous to my hours many regrets, and t*» my thoughts a shadow which all the pres ent brightness cannot quite away?" “Genevieve!" His face had changed.' any such secret in your life? Did you ever love another man?" His brows contracted; he thought of the promise she had given him to al* crcas* their happiness? They were married; she loved him now, and any such raking up of old bygones was cor- jpg' & jvas un pleas could expect to have Genevieve G ret ore. x V is counted her suitors impulse, and, coming to his side, knelt | down at his feet. "Am 1 pretty,” sVc asked, "t<> you?" “No." lie returned, “you are not pret- ; ty. you are beautiful, and Just n lit- < tie awe-inspiring I love you, and I > wonder at > ou. You are so different " j She did not wait for him to finish. “You love me," she murmured. “How \ much do you love me, Walter? Knorgh : to care more for me than for my beau ty? Would your heart still glow and your arms still, embrace me If. in*t< ad of ; tainly unw Besides, win first love of woman who scores might he pardoned for having j yielded one Jot of her pent-up woman- j ly emotions' iri return. He would not press his question; he found he loved | her too well. "T demand nothing.” was his reply. J “The past is past"; and wo no longer j have anything to do with it. As long as your heart is all mine now and I j hrn sure It is' what is it to me that you once smiled for a week or a month ; upon some one else* 1 would dare wager that no one but myself ever | tonehe<bthese lips.” Her smile flashed out bright and dnz- j zling. “No one ever did,” said she, and at that word and at that smile his j brow cleared and he almost laughed. I “Most every life has had some harm- j less flirtations in It.” ho remarked “I ! adored a girl myself once for a fort- j night. But that does not make me un- i happy now. (>n the contrary, I think it j acids u little to my satisfaction. The | value of true gold Is more apparent after J some slight handling of dross'.” She drooped her head There was n far-away look in her eyes. She did j not secrn to bear what he said. “I wish 1 c> gld sep you really cheer- j ful again,” ho ventured. “You are noi ill enough to look so sad” Brought hack to realities, she moved j a little farther from him, while a reck- I less gleam shot from her eyes. "I have read," she began slowly, ami as if pursuing her own train of thought, "that love Is powerful with some men. That no ambition is considered too dear, no hope too precious to stand in the way of their passion. Is there truth in swob tales? la there a man among your acquaintance, for instance, who would be willing to sacrifice any really good tiling he possessed for the "uke of an unfortunate woman who was dependent upon Ilim for happiness?” "1 hope - " he commenced. But she stopped him with an impe rious gesture. "Do yen know of one man.” she asked, "who would share disgrace with a woman cheerfully?" “Disgrace is a hard word,” he assert- | < 1, “and cheerfully «te<. not readity go By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. OVK comes like a summer sigh,” goes an old song, and who have known nothing ow it only in Its begin- tblnk. cairn-eyed, that Love is s a summer sigh- a lutelike strain, , nothing, telling a story of flow- haking their heavy, honey-bur dened birds giving dor the . hud' streams, dmninp between warm, ing no 11iiii in dly in the sun; of •py twitters from un tie* leaves, and of lazy and crooning their way «sy banks, and giv- th*ir songs that they were ever turbulent. That the summer sigh is. followed by tempestuous winds and devastating floods that tear down and sweep de struction where ail was lazy i«eace, Is never eiedited by those who do not know Love. The girl whose love tale is in the be ginning regards I.ove as she would a plaything. Hhe tosses him in the air, sometimes catching him with fervent arms and loving kisses, and as often letting him ‘fall that she may laugh at his wot—begem- fa* c- and make merry over his bruises. She tweaks, pinches, slaps and throws tlie little god about, finding renewed merriment in every moan and protest. “Love," she sings, "is more than a sum mer sigh, lie is a game. He is the greatest joy in the world." First hot, then cold; first loving, then disdainful; the, plaything in her hands would be driven mad entirely did he not know that. Just as surely as to-mor row's sun follows lo-day’s, his time will come. He is the plaything to-day. He knows who will he the juggler to-morrow, and with a face which bears no sign of the malice in tils heart he submits to every torture she imposes. And hides his time! What hour marks the beginning of the new game where I.ove is the juggler and the plaything in his hands is t.h* bruised and aching heart of his tormentor no one knows. The inexperienced declare that that hour never strikes The love-scarred know that it struck when they were merriest, and that in a twinkling they found themselves the sport of that which . i.;\- Eut It Ends So. AM5-CUPS - had been their game. The girl who is playing with Love grows tired and bids Love go. IR- turns to depart, and there comes to her a swift revelation of the dreariness of life without him, ami she commands him to stay. The hour has struck! He refuses, and then she drops to her knees and begs for that which she once scorned. “Only stay,” she implores, "and you may do with me as you will.” And Low stays, and for < very tear that she ha; made bim ihed he makes her shed a torivnb Every little pinch and bfuise on his ’v has made a mark on his heart that is charged to her account, for which she must pay in humiliation and anguish. No cold-blooded, calculating enemy who starts out to destroy and lets nothing under heaven interrupt or change dr balk or defeat his plans, was ever more ruthless than this little God of I.ove. Love is, as the young hope, the only real joy life holds. And only those who have hr wn it know the depths of de - j ki i r a n d sorrow. In the beginning it is the plaything; in the end the hearts of men and wom en are its toys. The Cry of the Heart The One You Didn't Marry By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. BY DOROTHY DIX. u L an ext r» ome plea si- your eye n)y appealed to your syrup it hies and y* :• affect tors? Do not say yea cafeles^ \ . Walter H-w deep have 1 ir heart ? Past the first b mind ary or not. Walter? Speak! I am strong cm ; igh to hoar.” Affected deeply, for ■ : look W; - even more earnest than hei* words, he drew her "A answered gravely; "You are my wife; you ary the w oman i have chc ■son and woul d choose again out of all I have • \ei own. I love your beau fly iow can 1 help it!—a nd 1 love w beauty life Had I to < given me fi o have this lo\ brilliant eyes, this w and speak ing fl-ruFe. w 'th a V.-id and treachorou 9 soul within your heart t and your na- eme case. >sitlve dis- ofton to a unan. It is more apt to nan from a'man.” if an extreme case,’* she d. “Let us put it at its y that I had done an own would brand me with r«»u became aware of it that the heart Did. only Would • \ou which id it n t u - love way hdld main to > who— sank to Uiinur: her eyes, his, turi >1 glassy, wn threatening and win 11 OVK. courtship and marriage not passing sentiments accident: . Romance and science must become fast friends. Sentiment and reality must meet. 1 want the young man and woman to know each other and to greet each other sanely and well under the best influence 1 know of--the church.” The lit v. John U. Gunn, who made this stat-mont i's past of of the North Baptist Church, No. 231 West Elev enth street. New York He has heard the Cry of the Heart. He has lparncd through his associa tion with young people that in the civilization and salvation of this gr.iy Id world the heart must Vie reck oned with as well as the soul, the body and the brain. .It is not enough t<> throw open the clun\ h floors to save souls. The work dues not end with establishing schools to train the lingers and brain. The public clinics that teach the care pf the body aeoomiiiish wonderful .re sults, but this and all these are not enough. The man with perfect lungs and liver, skilled hands, a well-trained bruin and a soul that he believes is saved it* i f n - mi account th in a collection o*f dry bones if his heart h is a longing that neither mental nor I physical tiling can still. He wants to I love ami be loved. lie wants the i-greatest gat life holds, and the same j longing is implanted in the breast of «", »ry w > ana n. In a small town *\\ here 1 im»w> * very* one else mo 1 mating are easy. A man : he H.lnvi’*' and the next . j tual friend introduces tin ! large city he may see The . day for an eternity, and j which were made for her prevent them from speaking an introduction and there eting one safes a girl day a rnu- em. In a Girl every the rules protection without 10 on* in 1 who knows him and her me to any young man. Anyhow, they are the kind of men they meet in public dance halls, and I don't care to know them. Will you toll me of a wav to meet a few nice men?” •1 am in love with a young girl,” writes another, “who is working near the place 1 work. She is looking at me all day long with a great deal of interest but she never says anything because we have not been introduced. I try to make her understand with my eyes that 1 love her, but she keeps silent, just looking at me all the time. Is there a waiv I can meet her and get acquainted?" '1 am eighteen” this time it ip a girl--“and every day meet a nice young man who says ‘How do you do?’ and passes on. I like him very much, but have never been intro duced to him. Tell me how 1 may know Yiim.” i am a young man of nineteen an 1 am very very bashful. When wi f h young ladies I do not know what to converse about. Lately 1 have hr n corresponding with a medical institu tion that offered to permanently cure me of my bash fulness in twelve les sons but 1 have an idea I could be cured quicker if I could meet more .iris and be with them oftener. But 1 live in a large city and never meet any girls, and am in despair.” One Way. !t is the Dry of tho II. art for love, ttnd the < r\ is universal. The man r who r.'ils to hned il or Who imys the penalty all throe.-rh )nty through satisfying this for love may happiness he ae- U I FANCY,” said the woman * who likes to philosophize above her tea. “that there are very few ‘of us, either men or women, who do not cherish the memory of some rare and radiant being that we have met some where in the past, and who do not have moments in which we speculate upon what lif • might have been if only we had married the ideal, instead of the Individual that we did marry. “Of course, for the most pari, we are fairly well satisfied with our own par tleular Darby or Joan, but in times <*f domestic strife v* call with a sad, sweet pleasure, the face of Angelina or Edwin, and reflect that he or she never would have been such a goose, or so pig-headed, or raised such rows about nothing as does the wife «>r husband to whom we are tied. “Ah, no! Angelina would always have been fair and beautiful, and slim and young, a perfect housekeeper, and a marvel of economy, far different from our own fat and grizzled middle-aged Joan, who is a hit-or-Tnh apparently thinks a rnun money off the trees. Our would alwa\ - have been hero, who could maki touch, who would sentiments of B. woman stills it Rt life, hung cur :•( rnand. h church ft possible men and v. Gunn, recognizing this de ls opened a parlor in his >r the purpose of making V for. well-intentioned young women to meet. He will act n gather I Win, too, a romantic thrill at his murmur beautiful ection, couched in Tarkingu n language for forty pars at a stretch, and who would have lived on such a high plane that he wouldn’t even l ave perceived when the coffee tasted like dish water, and the soup was cold, and the ices hot. And he would have been utterly incapable of live young fellow who was one of those youths who live upon their mothers. “Fortunately for Susie she had a sen sible. hard-headed father who repre sented to her that a man who had never supported himself was not likely, to support a family, and ‘as Susife had too much independence to want to set tle down on a poor mother-in-laW to he taken care of, she was kept ffconi marrying the young man. and, of course, in time got over her girlish fancy. “Eventually she made, an excellent match. She married a thrifty business man in a distant city, who was able to give her a beautiful home, fine clothes, an automobile, and every luxury that wealth can supply. Also her husband ;s a man of weight in his community, looked up to, and deferred to.. “Bur always her early love has loomed In Susie’s mind as a fairy prince, and she has contrasted her husband unfavorably with him, and said to her self how blissful she might have been with a man who understood her poetic yearnings, and her grasping at the wh0.tn.ess u f tp e v.’hat, instead of with h sordid business man. whose sou! was not on material things.. “Well, last month Susie went back home for the first time in many years, and. saw her early love. Also his wife and children. The shiftless ne’er do well had gone d$wn, and down, the quo: is meani ing? ! ; an- iii tr tore in a faded or marred body. should take- “Which?” Her eyes were burning, her lips wer parted; she was breathless, “Your heart and nature: I know should, and 1 rejoice in it You hav charmed me, Genevieve; I cannot rt sist your spell nor do 1 try any 1 i: •» to do so. Were these features all over c*'■’<•*•( would <• 1 • •• : ality left; a personality which 1 d<> n< understand, hut which holds me an interests me more than any amount < grace or beauty could do.” “Then I pm an enigma, onl> a enigma to you. When l am solved— “Will you ever bo solved, Genevieve; She uki not look as if she would Th ir for us? Have you d ne anything ” But here her laugh broke out merrily nd shrill. A transformation seemed f* be worked in her which made his ■ds sound incongruous and al urd h- supped In his turn and looked at 'v*r in a sort of cloudy amazement ” courtesy then she suddenly grew ntreated. «'l*P< *rtiui *T had >ur love. to test the •: here is' y, nd erst and imn study them un v my happines ir regard. Y-t, Tc tie Continued To-morrow. the who cares. Their Cries. The : ‘l a nice man wants for wift is not th girl who lets a str*' t Corner v.and sponsor for him. T ■’ ill'who will h i a wink <>r a smile ! serve as an introduction is not the ! girl In wants to marry, lie wants to | im et and marry the nice, modest kind f a girl he. knew “hack homo. ’ and ae ki wv as every ne knows, that the city is full of them. He also J knows that his chances for meeting her ar,> not any better than if she i were stranded on an island fn the North Lea. and he were a nomad in the Sahara Desert. Love is too priceless to be lost through formnlUy and too precious to he risked thro.:: a its lack. The re formists must ;n time recognize this and open social centers where decent young men may meet decent young \voim-n in a me. decent way. On this the happiness of the world de pends. I am a young girl nineteen years of IS 1 . * ivr ■ h. - ‘Anxious,’ “and have no chance what ever to get acquainted with vouns In - the intermediary of Cupid, and the | poor little god of 1 eve needs more tn- | termediari. th* s. j »’a\s tnan at any j pn vious time in his troubled exist- i ence. Let ot saying such things under sue stances, as does the ccmmoni by to whom we av a united. The Retrospect, “Ah the years, go by, and w ther and farther away from * Angelina and the gilt rubs circum- ;e Dar- . \ others who claim they want to ate the Rev. Gunn. Sat- j Isfy this 1 rnging for love first of all. * | that cnmis in the progress of human ity will follow. Harum 2d. {{ills crons and are one of market i if it ‘What mine.” “Guess you’ve seen her j men. While 1 h are ©elfish and would not nds, the) introdue* Two farmers the price > f potatoes. ‘S '. Jim ' finally remarked the agriculturists, “are ye in the fyr a good boss?” “AVoid&n't mind keyin' a ho suited me. Jake,” responded Jim kind of a boss is it?" “It’s thet Uttle answered Jake, hain't ye?” “Think I hov.’ reflectively returned Jim. “Yes. I know her, all right." “Mighty g - d little boss,’ declared Jake, with a hopeful glance at Jim. “An’ she's yours cheap fer a cash d al.” “It’s Jes‘ this way. Jake,” said Jim, picking up his lines and preparing tc siin. “Id lik* t.> have her. all r : ght. an' I'd buy her th ; monup’, only 1 hate to bust a dollar.” and until he had become the village loafer. People spoke of him with sneering con tempt. His wife was a poor, pitiful, overworked drudge who supported him by taking boarders. Half a dozen dirty little children clung to her skirts. The Outcome. “You never saw such an instan taneous cure as that sight of the man sj.e didn't marry worked on Susie. She scuttled back home as fast as she could go, and she’s been so busy ever since scattering roses in the path of the man she did marry that she has got him guessing as to what has happened.” "That's right," said the other woman cooingly, “I never miss an opportunity of inviting my husband’s early loves to , dinner. They are sure to be fat and fa,al mistakes in IUJUU1U uv. I fr , 1(vs) . f liviT1K skeletons, ami 1 can see his ideal crumbling to pieces as he contrasts them in propria persona with the way he remembered them.” "But we also have changed since we inspired love’s young dream,” suggest- got far- dwin and more and more, off of the gingerbread of matri mony that we are daily forced to con- j suine, the pictures of our early loves grow bi - liter and brighter, with a more and move roseate halo, until at last we come to the place where we privately consider ourselves blighted beings, who have made “l am convinced that a great deal of domestic unhappiness arises from this cause,, and 1 think that ten years after marriage there ought to be a com pulsory excursion back to the scene of one’s early romance, so that husbands and wives could get a near view of their first love. Take my word for It, that ft would do more to make men and women satisfied with the life partners they did get than anything else on earth, for if there is one thing that makes you want to go out and burn joss sticks to luck It is to meet up with the one you didn’t marry. "I have just been seeing a most illu- min ting example of the value of my thet y. i have a friend, whom I wHl calllsus; . because that isn’t lur name, wh.j s‘.:e was a young girl, fell CHAPTER XXV. A S soon as Herbert Fletcher was engaged he brought his mother to call upon his future wife. That was the only time that Mary Dan forth saw her soon-to-be mother-in-law until after her marriage* Mrs. Fletcher was a large-boned, stout woman, florid of face and with a voice that was masculine In quality. She shook hands with Mary ami eyed her critically "How do you do?" 5»ie said, adding, as in duty bound, “My son has told me about you.” “And he has talked to me often about you,” Mary rejoined timidly. “I am glad to know you. It is kind of you to call.” “Bert insisted on my coming.” re turned Mrs. Fletcher bluntly. "I was willing to humor him to keep the peace." ^ Cfce Was Surprised. Mary was surprised to hear herself talking with assuYhed lightness of trifling matters the weather, the noise of the city streets at this time of the year when the windows were open, the many impersonal matters that make what is known as "smali talk." Fletcher I sat by and looked at her with uncon j eealed admiration; her mother seconded i her efforts to keep the conversational | ball rolling, but Mrs. Fletcher said lit tle. Her quick eyes were taking in every detail of the simply-furnished room, and Mary felt that her gaze was an appraising one. She looked often at the embarrassed girl, and at last voiced her thoughts: "I guess you’re not very strong, are you?” Mary flushed hotly. "Why, yes,” she tjaid, trying to laugh, "i have never been really ill In my life. Perhaps the first warm weather may make me look a little pale, but 1 am very well, thank you!” Fletcher spoke up quickly. "It isn’t always the big women that are the strongest, ma.” he said oracularly. “You, yourself, ain’t quite up to the mark sometimes." j "I know that,” said his parent • as j she rose to leave. “But," turning to Mary, “my son tells me that you and I be have decided to get married, and I i think it only fair to say to you that, as | he hasn’t a fortune, any girl that mar- I ries him may have to w ork. But I guess you’re used to that here in your own home. And,” as an after-thought, “1 hope you both will he happy.” Mary did not. return Mrs. Fletcher's call—indeed, was not askexl to do so. But she wrote a pretty little , note to Bert’s mother asking her to come to the wedding, explaining that it was to be the quietest affair imaginable. To this invitation the older woman sent a verbal acceptance by her son. Herbert Fletcher had always wanted to live in the country, and Mary was willing to get away from New York and from all the old associations. She and her husband took a wedding trip down to Atlantic City and staying in an inex pensive boarding-house* over Sunday. Then the young couple returned to the Dan forth flat and began preparations fix- moving out of town. ' Decided on Small Town. • Fletcher had decided upon a small village in New Jersey, the distance of three-quarters-of-an-hour from New York, making it convenient for him to commute daily He and Mary went to Middle brock one Saturday afternoon ami chose the little house in which they were to live. It had seven small rooms and a diminutive both, but to the girl who, for two years, had lived in a cheap fiat, the cottage looked quite large. All the water used in the bathroom, and kitchen must be pumped by hand, into the lank at the top of the house, the pump being close to the kitchen sink. “A good job for a fellow that’s get ting too stout eh, Mamie?” Bert re marked jocosely. (He had insisted that “Mary” was “too formal" a name for a man to call his wife hy. Mary had suggested that she preferred it to any nickname, but her husband had his way.) “When I don’t feel like pumping the water, the girl can do it,” he said later as the two sat* together on the train taking them hack to New York. \ "Are you sure I can get a maid?” Mary asked timidly. ”T nave heard that it is sometimes difficult to secure one In a country place.” “Well, we’ll get one from town then.” said the master of the house loftily. “J don’t mean that you should do rough work in my home at least, if you can hire a girl whose wages make it pos sible for us to keep her.” “Ma Says You Were Right.” It was evident that he discussed this matter with his mother, for the next evening he remarked to his wife: "Ma tells me that you were right in saying that it’s hard to get good help in the country. You know she never keeps a girl, and she seems to think that you and your mother could do a good deal of the work of that little house yourselves. Perhaps you could.” Mary hesitated. "I do not want motTi- er to dA housework. Bert,” she de murred. “She is not strong, and work ise is harder than in a flat, if you can not afford n maid, the house must be attended fi> by me- but I would prefer keeping a servant, if pos sible.” She tried to speak firmly, but there w;;. a tremor in her voice and her bus- band noted it. • “Weil,” he said, "lei’s hbpe we can get a girl cheap somewhere. If not, my dear, I gt: .m yotFU just have to put up with matters as lots of other women do, and xs you and your mother have done lately aod as my mother has al ways done. Your husband ain’t rich, you know.” His wife made no reply. She seemed these days to be slowly awakening from a stupor in which she had lived since the night on which she received the news of Craig’s engagement. She had not allowed herself to look a day ahead, nor an hour backward. That was the way, she reminded herself, that she had lived through the past three months. SIis Aroused Herself. She aroused herself to listen to her 1 husband again! "Ma says she’!! he me chuosu any furniture we need,” be was saying. "She’s a crackerjack at finding bargains. I never knew such an economical buyer." "I thought,'' ventured his wife, "that we might choose our furniture to gether ” "you’re J buoy packing, so you'd belter let ma and me attend to that. I saw a real bright and cheerful blue s< fa on Four teenth street the other day. and I’ll see what w'e can get it for for our parlor. I’ll let ma make the deal.!’ Suddenly the wife appreciated that if she would not protest too much she must keep silence. Sixth City. The city of Cleveland has a citizen who is a great booster. When he stops at a hotel he invariably registers "Sixth City” instead of <'!evc: :nd. i.V is anx ious for every one to know That Glove- laud is the Sixth City in the United States. His zeal in this respect nearly cost him a lot of trouble last week. One of bis New- York business acquaint ances called up the Waldorf, where ho had been told Mr, Rose was stopping, and Risked for him. ”1 want to speak with W. G. Rose, of Cleveland," said the New Yorker. After a long w.iii the clerk told him that there was no W. G. Rose, of Cleve land, stopping there. The New Yorker insisted that Mr. Rose was there and asked tlie clerk to make another in quiry. "No,” answered the clerk, after an other long wait. “There is ho Mr. Rise, of Cleveland, here. But we hav a a W. G. Rose, of Sioux City." Hereafter Mr. Rose is going to regis ter "Cleveland Sixth City" to avoid, mistakes. That Reserve. 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ADAMS CO., Distributors, Atlanta Why Women H Pde •'ves in l\ \.. with a good-looking and at trac ed a third woman. • f >b. <■ ;r husbands are used to us.” Woman philos jpher, com fortably. “Ahd they’ve quit looking at us. anyway." ;• j. b %. u iJ w : A fe-4 3 H a " -.'/r it. K *stmso* fit* : . ■’ t Class Finishing and Ln- D.rc'r.g A complete stock llms, ^ pb* 11 s. papers, chemicals, etc Special Mail Order Department lor jut-of-town customers. Send tor CctaloQue and Price List. A. li. HJAWKtSC:. Koa*k ( 4 WI. t . li St. ATLANTA. OA The “blues”—anxiety—sleeplessness—and warnings of pain and dis-|,r tress are sent hy the nerves like flying messengers throughout body and’ limbs. Such feelings may or may not be accompanied by backache or headache or bearing down. The local disorders and inflammation, if there is any, should be treated with Dr. Fierce’s Lotion Tablets. Then the nervous system and the entire womanly make-up feds the tonic efiect of DR. PIERCE’S FAVORITE PRESCRIPTION when taken systematically and for any period of time. It is not a“cureall,’* but has given uniform satisketion for over forty years, being designed for the single purpose of curing woman's peculiar ailments. Sold in liquid form or tablets by druggists—or send 50 one-cent stamps for a box cf Br. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription Tablets. Ad. Br. R.V. Pierce. Buffalo, N.Y. . " . Every woman ought to troesces 1 i:i | Peoples Common Sense Medical . J | Due A by^R.V. Picric M.D. I Oi<c] L pages. It a miners Questions of szx~ . Teaches mothers hois to core for ihr-f | children and themsehhfs. It's the emc:i J gencj doctor in 'jour nsn home. , 3 / one-cent tamps to L>r. Pkrce as alt v