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€ The Coiffure of Refinement Four Pretty Styles and as Many Pretty Girls Specially Posed fur This Page by Members of “The Madcap Duchess" Company i ! - ♦ O ♦ DMIRATION of the Ihtr*«t styles in coif- fures is largely tinged with rejoicing that the day of the grotesque hay stack bunch of jute is passed, and that the s.mple, grtcef... “oiffuft is •> its own ^ Beginilitlg With left to rigii!. » Very eff.'i t ive and simple style of hair dressing is shown by Miss Ann Swinburne ns Seraphina in the title role of ‘ The Madcap Duchess ” The ef fect ia that of a Psyche knot with the added gracefulness achieved by a braid worn over the forehead, with the side hair brought low over the ears . The atyle adopted by M;ss Margaret An drews is iu direct contrast, with the effect al most as simple. The hair is hunched at the crown with the effect of a soft drooping-pom padour in front. The style so well suited to the piquant face of Miss Pegg> Wood is simplicity itself. The hair is parted in the middle, allowed to fall O ♦ o ♦ loosely over the ears, and is gathered irs^e-lper knot at the back. Miss Glen Ellis has the perfeatly rounded head that permits of the hair being dram® into a low bunch at the back, with a fluffy-ef feet in front redeeming it from the trying severity this style would otherwise become. Li: Meeting the Difficulty Ann Swinburne. Margaret Andrews. Peggy Wood. Glen Ellis- A GOOD story is told pf a worthy Quaker who lived in a country town. The man was rich and benevolent, and his means were put in frequent requisition for purposes of local charity or usefulness The townspeople wanted to rebuild thetr parish church and a committee was appointed to raise funjls. It was agreed that the Quaker could not be asked to subscribe toward an object so contrary to his principles, but then, on the other hand, so true a friend to the town might take it amiss if he was not at least consulted on a mat ter of such general interest. So one of their number went and explained to him their project—the old churoh was to be removed and such and such steps taken toward the construction of a new' one. “Thee wast right, ' said the Quaker, "in supposing that my principles would not allow' me to assist In building a church But didst thee not say something about pull ing down a church? Thee mayet put my name down for a hundred pounds to pull it down.!' -♦ Ct ♦ -«.£♦- -• o-» THE FAMILY CUPBOARD A Dramatic Story of High Society Life in Mew York [Novelized byl fi (Fmm Owen Davie* play now being pre aented at the Playhouse, New York, by WiHiam A Brady.—Copyright, 1913, by International News Service.) TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT There wan n pause. Emily Nelson stood trembling with emotion auch as she had forgotten to know through long guarded years of life that had made this moment come relentlessly to her at last. The instrument was held close to her ear- as she waited for Charles Nelson's voice—while her gaze never left the room behind whose curtains her son and his was making prepara tion for—his—long journey. Could she save him now at last? Could aits thing now be saved from the wreck of love and honor- ami zest to live? At last a voice. His voice—her hus band was there at the other end of the little wire that might be the instrument of saving their boy. “Hello! Charlie! It is Emily! I am at Kenneth’s! He is In dreadful trouble! He le going to—Oh, I can’t tell you, (tharlie. Come to me! Come to save him! How long?—Five minutes?—I’ll try and keep him! No more! No! No! I love you, Charlie! Come!” She dropped the instrument that might yet be of salvation and fell into the chair sobbing wildly—her strength aJmost spent. Kenneth came into the room walking aa in a daw like a sleep-walker, lie held some letters in his hands with the most minute care he was tearing these Into small pieces. As ho heard his mother sob he dropped tho paper to the floor - a white shower—and went to her ski''. “Don’t! Don’t do that! he said in u tone so frozen by the horror of all lie had come to know of life that it sound ad remote—like a voice from another plane. Emily Nelson looked up. Five min utes' Could she hold her son that long? “What are you going to do, Ken- nath ?’* “Just going away. I can't stay here, you know. I am not fit. I can’t face It! I ran t face—life." lie mumbled almost to himself. But her heart defined w hat btr ears could not hear. Emily Nelson rose and followed her boy toward the door “It Is my fault. I was a bad mother!" “We did not understand -any of us,” •aid Kenneth, in that quiet vole. of d«um. “Dear, I have suffered! 1 think 1 tinderatand now," said his mother. gently. Fighting the Moments. In the boy’s face was that grim sor row that seemed to be bearing his soul away from life and light and any hu man consciousness. “That’s what father meant that suf fering w r ould open my eyes. It has. He said that I should see myself and her as we real c an a pretty sight." His eyes * dee p. i • •! .<u.i ...... • there came across them that Him that faraway look. “1 want to get rid of ii -mother, so 1 am going.” One step farther from hei our step nearer the door and after that what? “Wait! ’ The mother came hastily between her son and the door—that door she must not let him pass. Could she hold him? Could she hold him? Her agonized { brain kept reiterating that question I even while she was bending every en I ergy, every power, to the successful an- CASTORIA Tor Inf&n’s and Children The Kind You Have Always Bought a we ring of the question on which fate was balanced. “You did not love her! Ken, it is not sorrow I see In your eyes—it is bit terness!” "Perhaps. 1 don't know.” The boj spoke In a aont of lethargy’ of indiffer ence He felt that nothing that had passed mattered now—all that counted was what was coming. “What differ ence does it make? Are you coming down? T can’t wait.” He did not call her by the sacred name of mother It was scarcely to his mother he spoke—Just to some one who was, strangely enough, showing Interest in him, now that ft was too late, ami trying to change his plans too late! He turned courteously but Impatiently •—to the door. As he started Emily Nelson put her hand on his arm very gently she scarcely dared to caress him he seemed to her like one in some strange trance she dared not waken him too abruptly lest reason totter- lest he push her roughly aside and go on with what he had determined. “Just a moment, dear! When did she go?” “Just now.” “Why?” “She was tired. . . . She couldn’t stick. . . . That’s what the old man said—poor old beggar she couldn’t stick. Well ... 1 must go!” Again he started for that door of strange doom. Again the frantic mother seized upon any pretext to stop him. “Did did she go alone?" “No." “With whom?" “Please! I CAN’T LIVE IT OYER AGAIN! 1 CAN T LIVE IT ALL OVER AGAIN! LET ME GO!” The mother heart knew that he could not live it all over again—thai with that memory searing boyhood ami hope and Idealism from his nature he could scarcely bear to live al all for these few extra moments that she was trying to hold him to save Ills sanity to save his life itself! And yet she must an swer him as if she knew nothing sus pected nothing of the wild storms that were sweeping through his agonized young-old mind. Life had offered Ken neth Nelson a rude awakening would ho indeed Interpret bis knowledge in terms of death? "Yes. dear, of course.* said Emily, soothingly. Ho passed her on. on toward that door There seemed nothing to say — nothing to do all had been tried in vain. Would the mother give up hope, and cease fighting her battle against the odds of n disordered brain “Oh. Ken!" Jle stopped. “Yes?" “Mary Burk was "Mother, dear! 1 am- very tired— and and 1 have a lot to do." Emily strove for an easy tone. If only some stray gleam of love for the girl whose unselfish devotion for the boy site had been coldly told was "too good for her—was worlds above her" — could brighten the gray gloom of Ken's outlook on life and love and woman! Mary was. as Emily Nelson hail come well to know, the one rose in the tan gled and weedy Nelson garden. If onl> , she might yet be the “Rose of the World" for Ken! Ami Emily Nelson’s growth in womanhood was measured by her simple judgment that her penniless social secretary’s love was the one gleam of hope in the life and for the life of the wayward boy whom both w omen loved. Perhaps Mary's name would be the talisman to save Ken! “I am very tired—and 1 have a lot to do. ' said Ken "Naturally go dear how silly for me j to keep you. Poor Mary's troubles art [ nothing to you." There was deep subtlety in that' "Mary’s troubles!" The boy came back ; • Ids mother's • “Y. i But tt ou» mi'i mallei i>h< j says she Is going to h ave ti . Slo*•« ! I go • 111» the house there > ady i thing for her to «!<• . she 1 ,« To Pe Cont tund To-morrow. AT BAY A Thrilling Story of Society Blackmailers (Novelized by> (From the play by George Scar borough, now being presented at the Thirty ninth Street Theater, New York. Serial rights held and copyrighted by International News -Service.) TO DAY’S INSTALLMENT. The chief and the inspector looked at each other Well, Flagg, Invulnerable to all state weapons that had searched for the vulnerable spot In the armor of his evil deeds, had been reaches! by a higher law. And the dealer of justice must be meted human Justice now’ and pay the penalty to human law—the pen alty for spilling the blood of this base brother. “Inspector, I’d swear on a stack of Bibles that I saw a tin box settin' right a-top of that there cabinet," said Don nell, rubbing his eyes to make sure that some strange magic was not all that kept him from seeing it now’. “Well, who moved It?” asked the in spector sternly. "I don’t know, sor." “Who’s been in the room since you saw the box?" “Only ourselves, sor.” There was a moment's pause. Then the flinty smile played about the firm mouth of Chief Dempster. There was a trail plain for his eyes to see. Only he could not see Just where it would lead, and well for him, and for the friendship he had ever haul for the Dis trict Attorney of the Fnited States that he could not see that the trail led to the white-faced girl who was the daugh ter of his friend. “Duly ourselves," repeated the In spector. chief Dempster put a grin period to the sentence. “And Holbrook.” said he quietly. But Holbrook was speeding through the night- speeding on to his cham bers speeding to the final revelation of that tell-tale plateholder he had filched from the camera Donnell held in hands that should never have been trusted with such valuable evidence A Night of Terror. The victims uf the scourge Insom nia call a night of sleeplessness a “white night” they dread even through the golden day the coming of the long stretch of hours when all life sleeps and they alone wake. A "white night” measures horrors of twitching nerves and unresting mind of weariness and despair too great for normal man. wrapped In sweet slumbers, to meas ure. Hut the terrors »\f such a night are multiplied a thousand fold are raised to the power of desperate agony w hen they come to a girl whose past is a degradation, whose present Is a liv ing horror of death itself and whose future is only a pitiless toll extorted from her own mistakes Like a mad thing Aline had gone through the streets after that scene of strangling and choking and stvug- ling- and striking in the den of the spider. In tear she had left her own home to enter the web she had allowed to be woven about her six years be fore by the summer sea But fear was an unmeasured thing—fear was a weak word to picture the tortured agony she must endure as she tied back Jo what could no more be a refuge for her to what was called Home Home whose sacred precincts she had defiled Aline rushed from the spider's do main -she ran from that writhing thing that had lately been called a man— she' fled from insult and degrading in nuendo tom that leering face and silky voice that dared ask of her, nay. de mur.-! of } - -ft hrn.li- . 'ays strung throughout the year." N 1 'w running like a hunted thing like i «• hunted thing she must soon ■’ • '• iii shadow at ihe i i ror oc , crackling twig now doub ling r -r tracks tha; the inevitable purs might he thrown off the trail- sin ! i . .-hi ii In r «ovn doorway at last. i ; there v s one «-uemy she could 1 At last she reached her own room. She tore from her the polluted gar- j ments that the master of pollution hail touched—the poisoned things she. had worn in the rooms of Evil.it She flung them in a heap on the floor; they could not be touched now; her maid would hang them away. And In flinging aside the habiliments of that dark night Aline forged another link in the chain that must soon hind her fast. At last her soft white “robe de nuit” encased her cold form and she tumbled into the sanctuary of her white bed. bike u child that shuts out darkness, she pulled the covers over her eyes, warmth and conifort must lie there. But warmth ami comfort lay nowhere. The girl lay shivering in fear and horror of ail she had learned this night and all she did not guess. For the full terror of l\er visit to her enemy Aline did not know; she did n<»t realize that Judson Flagg had died! Suddenly she heard the jangle of the door bell loud talking she must know what it portended she must have real ity instead of this numbing terror of what might be. She leaped from her bed and crept to the top of the stairs. Aline Graham had become an eaves dropper in her father’s house! She came on down the stairs and stood trembling at the library door. She listened—and new terror tore at her face like a monster with evil claws. Like a fugitive thing she crept back to her room at last—and stealthily, lest any might hear her, she began dressing in street clothes. Then In the sinister black of the midnight hour Aline Gra ham again left the protection of her father's house—and crept out into the streets. A man’s room will often tell what he y / ment buildings of Washington where secretaries of legation and young for eign diplomats, where dilettanti at liv ing. where Washington's eligible bach elors prove how homelike may be a liome even without woman's magic touch, Lawrence Holbrook had his quar ters. To-night a white-clad, black-haired. Oriental-eyed Filipino boy stood with Eastern stoicism and patience and gazed out of a high studio window into the blackness of tlie midnight streets. Master would come soon and in the meantime the “boy" would stand and gaze into the same blackness that held his island jungles. Back of him and his window lay a huge living room wainscoted high in panels of soft brown Circassian walnut Above the wood was a wall covering of forest green burlap. Against this background were hung half a dozen time-mellowed and rare hunting prints. Above the fireplace was a fine moose head, and on the breast of the mantel were shining barreled guns. Over door ways and hung above the monster buf fet and wide book shelves were swords, knives, a Manila kriss, some foils, a travel-worn knapsack and wavy daggers of a rare Spanish make. Sconces lit the dark wainscoting and shone on the heads of elk and caribou and on hunt ing horns from far German forests. A “world-man" indeed was the dweller in this great room Suddenly the keen-eared Filipino boy turned arranged glasses and decanter on jlhe great table in the center of the room -drew the deep Russian chair closer tt> the gleaming fire and stood at attention at the open door with a quiet dispatch that seemed tt) disprove a!i theories a pout Oriental si. \\ ness In His Home. With the easy grace that was his Irish heritage- with the smilitig ai homeness with the world that hail al ways been his -up to the time of dun- ger —Captain Holbrook swung into his own d< main. The servitor he had trained to wear livery instead of Fil ipino skins ami fiber took his hat and coat with a military precision. "Wait a minute. Barney. Hold on p \ - don't mind, i'vt got something tip nu -dt vc.' He took tha; : u ’o a k box of .lap an-'., met a! t * u >1« . w Barney " “kc ; .1' .: . a; . • <• other sleeve The captain produced a queer little wooden thing from his pocket and put it on the table Off came his dinner coat and draped its well-cut blackness over a chair; then the captain's hands slipped through the unaccustomed opening in his shiri sleeves, leaving the cuffs standing away from his arms just below the elbows, lie picked up the curious thing lhat was a plate-holder and van ished into an inner room. Barney looked after his master speculatively, touched the black bpx with a long, curious finger shook his head, and picking up the topcoat and fedora marched Into a noth-, er room. Had Larry Holbrook forgotten the emerald brooch that lay in telltale care lessness in the pocket of that coat that he had so idly hung over the hack of the chair? . For a moment there was stillness in the deserte.d room. Then the captain’s voice, called, “Barney! Barney!" No answer. Back v came Holbrook carry ing a red lamp unlighted and a pan for a photographic plate. The Missing Hypo. "Barney!” "Yes. sir," and the servitor with nar row. twitching black eyes came at the call. “There was a bottle of hypo in my cupboard. Where is it?" Holbrook was now quite intent on lighting the lamp. • “What, sir?" “The stuff you've seen me pour in this pan." “Bah-tle?" queried Barney, with great precision. “Yes." “Don’ know. Captain." "You must find it. Barney. “Don’ know!” He started across the room, shaking his head gravely and repeating his for mula, "Don' know." “It's not there!" cried the captain in exasperation—he must have the means of developing this plate—be must know — the worst—the very , very worst. He spoke with slow patience. “Big bottle- says H-Y-P-O on the label big Boland water bottle." Barney bobbed his head vigorously; he went over and knelt at the buffet. “Oh, yis sir—vis. sir." The captain dropped the work of his hands and straightened up to the oc casion. ‘ My word—in the buffet!" "These, Captain?’’ ••Thai ■ it . . • Barney , did you give ;in> ::c a drink.of it' "Not y it!-sir." answered Barney re spectfully. “Well, wait till I tell you before you do!” “Yis. sir. ‘ The captain started back to his own private sanctum to immerse the plate that would tell all in its hypo bath. “And. Barney—don't drink any of it yourself." "Yis, sir.' The captain lingered at the door and spoke with the grave emphasis he used in trainir\g this ignorant "boy”—and yet there was in ej’e and voice the twinkle that had won him the friend ship of women'and savages. A New Plan, “That’ll send you back to Manila, Barnadino—in a pine box. . Now- get Dr. Elliott on the phone and tell him I'm sick to come as fast as e\er he can " A new plan was hatching in the pro lific brain of this soldier of fortune. “Locker KU-yut." repeated Barna dino gravely “Yes. His number s in the little book. E-two L’s-I-O and two teas"’ Barney's nose was buried in the lit tle book while yet he knew that precious formula. "Yis. sir." "Ami after that get me a pot of • tea." Barney dropped the book—aniL gazed I at his master in something akin to horror I "TEA!" We have moved to our new store, 97 Peachtree Street. ATLANTA FI OP AL CO “TEA!” Repeated Captain Holbrook late of the V. S. A. and late and soon of the world. There was something in this brief dialogue to suggest that tea was not a beverage for the preparation of which Barnadino had a vast num ber of calls. "Yis. sir." said Barney in a chastened tone. The Captain took the plate and went into the dark room that would soon give him light that should as sinister and dark as the ruby-lit gloom in which the mysteries of the camera come to life. Barnadino w’ent back to his book and the formula. “E-two L’s-I-O and tw'o teas!" "3-8-1 Main.” The Captain camo back to the door way for a brief second. "Tell him I’m near dead." The door slammed after him with a tone of finality—and Barney was left alone with the room and its precious contents. “Yis, sir." said Barnadino. in the pause of waiting for the my sterious pro ceedings that made that little black thing at his ear talk to him. To Be Continued To-morrow. The Only Seat. A famous pianist used to be greatly bothered by requests for free seats at his concerts. On one occasion his appearance had been advertised for weeks, and on the day of the concert every seat was booked. Just before he was about to go on to the platform an excited lady made her way to the artists’ room and begged for a ticket, saying that all Her efforts to buy one had proved futile. “Madam,” answered the musician, “there is but one seat left In the w’hole building. If, however, you care to take it you are welcome to do so.” “How can I thank you!” answered she. “It makes no difference, to me where the seat is.” “Then, madam,’’ said he, “come this way!” Leading her to the steps up to the platform, he pointed to the seat at the piano. When he turned round she had fled. His Turn. Two motorists, having almost ruined their tempers—and their tires—in a vain attempt to find a hotel with a vacant bed, were at last forced to make the best of a small Inn. Even then they had to share a bed, which was—and on this the landlord laid great stress—a feather bed. They turned in, and one of the pair was soon fast asleep; the other was not. He could not manage to dodge the bumps and heard hour after hour strike on the church clock until 3 a. m., when he also struck. He did this by violently shaking hi» snoring friend. ’ What’s the matter?” growled the other. “It can’t be time to get up i yet!” No, it isn’t," retorted his friend, continuing to shake him, “but it’* my turn to sleep on the feather!’ THE MANICURE LADY By WILLIAM F. KIRK. HOPE to goodness we don’t I never have a real war with them Mexican fellows,” said the Manicure Lady. “That is about all the talk I have heard up to the house for the last week, and I am getting kind of scared and nervous about it. My father's father fought in the Civil Rebellion. George, and gqt one of his legs shot clean off at the battle of Missionary Ridge. I used to see h'rh hobbling around the house when I was a little kid, and I couldn’t help thinking when I seen his wooden leg that war was every thing Mister Sherman said it was. I suppose the scars of war is honorable scars, George, but you got to admit that there* ain’t much class to one of them old fashioned wooden legs, big in the calf and little in the ankul and no instep on them. “Every time the old gent gets a little lit up he tells that he is of fighting stock, and you would think to hear him go on that his ancestors had all went to West Point and served Uncle Sam all over the world. His old man was the only one that ever smelled gunpowder, and he didn't come out of it with no flying colors except the wooden leg, as I was say ing. I think he got that leg shot off in the only battle he was ever in. But the old gent is full of the war fever now, and he has even got brother Wilfred talking war and strategy. Wilfred wouldn’t make much of a boy in blue, with that gentle, shrinking poet nature of his, but he thinks that if war broke out with Mexico he would be right down there with bells on. I don’t believe they would take him for a soldier at all, on account of his lamps being weak and his small size being against him, but between him and the old gent all we hear now is war, war, war. ‘‘It kind of grates on mother and us girls, because we ain’t of a fight ing nature, and the only fun me and Mavme gets is kidding the life out of W llfred when he tells how he would charge the ramparts of the enemy and save the country’s flag. We told him last night that the only thing he could charge was his board bill, and May me fcv.nd a war poem that he had wrote and was going to send to the Washington Heights Flour and Feed Courier. This is how it goes, George." •Don’t read it if it is long,” said the Head Barber, “Me and the Missus had a few words before I left home this morning, and I don’t feel none like listening to poetry.” “It ain’t much, George. Listen; “Oh, Mexico, thou land of heat And cactus thorns and creeping things, You most assuredly will be beat If Uncle Sam on you his soldiers flings. 1 shall volunteer for the Stars and Stripes And flght like a hero our flag to save, And if your navy with ours does clash: Y’ou will sureiy go to a waterjn grave. And if I die on the battlefield The world will say that I done mvn best. 1 And my greatness It will be revealed When my hands are folded on my ( breast.” “He ain’t giving himself any the worst of it In that poem,” said the, Head Barber. “It sounds kind of fool ish to me.” Internal Evidence. At a certain college custom ordains I that at examination time each of the j candidates shall write the following [ pledge at the bottom of his papers: “I hereby declare, on my honor, that I have neitKer given nor received as sistance during the examination.” Now, recently, it so happened that a young fellow, after handing in one of the papers, suddenly remembered that in his haste he had omitted to write the oath. On the following day, therefore, he sought out one of the examiners and told him that lie had forgotten to put ! the required pledge on his paper. The old man looked at him over the top of his glasses and dryly remarked. “Quite unnecessary. Your paper in it self Is sufficient evidence. I’ve just been correcting it.” CHICHESTER S PILLS f thk diamond BRAND. * A»L year lli-agglut 'or /A I (■hl.chM.ter* iM.mo.T^re. J/^S ■HI* ln an d t-old nirtall<c\%#J ‘ scaled with Blue Ribbon. 'MS 1 Take no other. Bur of roar ▼ A<.lc for ( II I.< ifFS-TFK'S DIAMOND BRAND PILLS, for**! years known as Rest, Safest. Aiwa vs Reliable SOLD BY DRUGGISTS EVERYWHFPS I will appreciate the in viting fragrance and exquisite flavor of [ Maxwell Houee Blend Tea It meeta every require ment of quality and purity. W «. l-lb. Alt T)«M *»■{► CWk-Nwl Cciio. CwW' « KuktlKt. JecheoaviU' _ A Friend of Quaker forTwenty-Two Years Mr <; R. Howder, 63 years • »f age. who lives at 1LO renter street, this city lias been a triend of Quaker Ex tract for twenty-two years. When he first became acquainted with its won derful vlrtiles he had been ailing for tears from stomach troubles, and had used quite a few of the many remedies on ihe market at that time, but found nothing to give real permanent relief until he at last found the first pack age of Quaker Herbs, put up at that time in a dry form. He was cured by a few weeks’ use of them, and since men each year, usually at the spring time, he gives himself and all the fam ily a course of the great medicine, a ml if more hea! hy-looklng and vigorous- feeling .mp ai the age of 63 ran be found m Atlanta it will take more i inn the normal eyes to find him. Mr. Howder has raised two children on "<h: 'her." nrd t!’*••••• a' - ., never had the puny. pale, sail**.' * oinplrxion.s < f ihe av'"vsc child, or hive tbr\ suf fered fn m the many ill-; that’ beset the growing child, more especially the hundreds of worms and other intesti nal parasites that infest the human system of those who do not properly cleanse the digestive trai t each year. When Mr. Howder first began to use the Quaker medicine himself he weigh ed just exactly 130 pounds. Now he tips the beam at 198. and it’s all good, healthy muscle and sinew and steady nerves, not a lot of bloat. This gen tleman called at Courses & Murin'* drug store and. after talking to the Quakers a while took three more bot tles of Quaker Extract, which he in- tended giving to a friend who is be- gimrine to manifest some of the symp toms of pellagra He knew that the same remedy had already cured a case in Mnriet’a. and ! s doing yeoman ser vice in six or seven other cases right in Atlanta Now. those of you who c.re inclined to doubt that the Quaker Rerrc- • - :re pc r.i or at hi their euro ' • ’ ii .. or wY» flunk’ that when the remedies lun .- made a friend they are easily shaken off. just take a walk over to Mr. Howder's residence > on Center street and ask him person ally what he knows of the Quaker's , medicines. He'll be only too glad to explain why he has used them for so many years, when there are over 200 . other remedies lhat are sold on the druggists’ shelves to-day. And re member. too. that if you suffer from any possible branch of stomach, liver, kidney or blood troubles, or you and your little ones have worms of any kind, here Is a cure, one that has cre ated over 300 permanent cures right here in your own city, right on your very threshold, so in speak, where you have the privilege to investigate them at your will. These wonderful remedies -Quake** Extract. 6 f.. r *500. 3 f , r 12.50 or m.99 n bottle oil of Hahn. :,V. or ?* for/ • b»- obtai' "d hi Coursey A- ; Mum's Drug I ore, Marietta ctreei !' • !'• PI rH charges on nil r r del s of >3.Of. .ir <i\ or.