Newspaper Page Text
«
he Marriage Game/' a Great Love Story, Will Begin on This Page Saturday. Be Sure to Read the Opening Installment
irMlP ((%■]
>3
Per* i
\A(T A
'M
7
ii niL ^tj
IN
rl
IJn
• -
r
AT BAY
A Thrilling Story of
Society Blackmailers
Her First Proposal at
f**n*w. 1*M. tun
By NELL BRINKLEY
(NoveOwd »y)
] the play by George Scar-
now being presented at tha
ninth Street Theater, New York.
. rights held and copyrighted by
j. ational News Service.)
TO DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
• raised her eyes, struggling
, s the weight of tears on the
■ She must look at her Judge.
B ;• it was her father's kind eyes she
1®..' and it was her father’s kind
,< e she heard saying:
V.j girl—my little Aline—my
mo'herless baby ”
"-« voice tirnke down all her self-
or-'rol. though only Its tone, and not
words, penetrated her conscious-
ness. A , • • •
Don't scqM me/* sobbed the girl.
- -old vou—-my motherless baby—
I m trying with all my poor might
r rip vo 14. My little Aline! I must
uiestion you—bow did Flagg get
don’t know T must have lost It.”
nd now Gordon Graham spoke
i quiet, satisfaction.
”T re© no reason to call this a (Taira
'hrk marriage.’*
You don’t!”.cried-Aline, in dizzy
farm.
That is a Ho many a scoundrel has
• 1 when he wanted to desert a
r u sting and innocent young wife,’
•i! Graham, so well satisfied at the
i.ving of this ghost that he scarcely
noticed Aline.
The girl had risen and stood sway
ing in new horror.
Wife! Oh, no, no, no—Daddy!”
The man turned on her in bewil
derment.
Do you want to believe you
weren’t properly married?”
Yes, yes.” cried the girl, eagerly.
That the man fooled you? You
lit tha.t t9 be time?”
i don’t want to think that I’m his
ilia i I'm married to him.”
The man answered her in horror.
My God—I do.”
I couldn’t be his wife now—I
ouldn’t be”—the girl’s voice rose in
■e shrill crescendo of hysteria.
Well—you probably are his wife,”
-isted her father, thanking his
:<er that the motherless bairn his
rl-wife had left him had been
ed this shame, at least.
! n a wild abandon of tears and sobs
e girl flung herself across the room
nd crouched trembling and shaken
mong the cushions of the great
couch.
‘Oh, why didn’t I die that summer
why didn’t I die—I can’t bear It!”
she moaned in utter grief and terror
"Quiet, Aline—you must control
rourself -MacIntyre and Dempster
w t hear von.”
The whplv world may hear me—
r-'hing ‘matter?* now—why didn’t I
• e while there was time—why didn’t
I die?”
Her hysteria was carrying her past
thought^of self-control, and horror
Yl bounds—she hdd given over all
unleashed was tearing at her mind.
Mine! Aline*” cried her father,
i‘"n’t you think of yourself now.
II your grief from people* who will
e ;,it against you. Think of m.v
• lie—our proud name. Be a wom-
Allno * * * ”
There was the clamor of an in-
- stent knock at the door?
Aline!” pleaded the man.
On the Rack.
I’ll try—daddy.” She rolled her
A t handkerchief Into a little damp
11 and clutched it for the grip on
ality it gave. And then, with
tehing nostrils that kept back the
rig exhalations of her spent sobs,
.ne turned to face again Chief
1 tnpster and inspector MacIntyre.
if the wily chief observed that
' ne was struggling as does a child
at has passed through a wild tem-
st of grief—and as a woman who
• es a heritage of pain, he gave no
~n. He began.with a challenge.
I saw* Holbrook in the hall. * * •
What does this mean?”
T had Captain Holbrook sent here
■ care of an officer,” answered Gor-
n Graham.
Why?”
He asked- to see me. I think I
'uld tell you—and the inspector
A I have phoned the Attorney Hen
ri and have asked to be relieved
' >m the case—all of it. If Captain
Hbrook is tried I may appear for
rrt—his attorney ”
That’s rattyer surprising,” inter-
■ rpted the inspector in a suspicious
tone.
Ah, let him come in!” cried Aline.
“Why?” asked the three men in
varying tones of surprise.
‘‘He has such courage—he gives It
to me. I feel safer somehow—when
he is here,” smiled the girl mistily.
The chief and inspector looked at
one another with satisfaction. This
admission meant something to them—
Graham wondered how much Aline
had hurt the case.
‘‘Keep them separate,” advised the
inspector.
"Why?” asked Graham.
-"The chief smiled. "Let him come
In, inspector.”
And so Holbrook was summoned—
summoned to share with Aline her
supreme moments.
‘‘Captain, you phoned the paper last
night, telling their editor to suppress
a denial they had meant to make of
your engagement to this young lady.”
"Yes, chief.”
‘‘Why telephone at that time—just
after the murder?”
“WELL. CHIEF. I’M ASKIN’.
WHEN WOULD YOU PHONE A
PAPER IF YOU WANTED TO
STOP AN ITEM-AFTER IT WAS
ON THE NEWSSTAND?”
‘‘Why stop it?” snapped the jaws
of steel.
“What was the first thing I told
you about the lady and meself?”
“That she was your wife.”
"THEN WHAT A FOOL I’D LOOK
DENTIN’ WE WERE EVEN EN
GAGED!’’
“Stalling!” muttered the chief to
the inspector—and then changed his
attention to Aline.
“Miss Graham—when did you put
on the street dress you wore last
night to Captain Holbrook’s rooms?”
"When I decided to go to him,” re
plied the girl, simply enough.
“When was that?”
“I can’t tell you the exact hour.
Chief Dempster.”
‘ Well, we’ll let that go. Which door
were you at when you overheard my
report to your father?”
“The hall door.”
“How were you dressed at that
time?”
At this question. Captain Hol
brooks’ finger w T ent quickly to his lips
and he gave the childish little signal
for silence.
‘Wait a minute. You sit over here
in this chair in the center of the room.
Captain Holbrook,” said Inspector
MacIntyre, with abrupt sternness.
The captain obeyed, with a shrug
of protest that seemed to wonder
what all this fuss was about, any
way.
“Aline needn't answer that ques
tion.” interposed Gordon Graham.
“You fear it may incriminate her,
Counseolr?” asked Chief Dempster.
”1 don’t think it’s relevant.”
There was a moment of silence
while the Chief framed his question
anew. *
“Until you put on your street dress,
what had you been wearing?”
“An—evening gown.”
“The one you wore at dinner last
night when your father and I and
Father Shannon were at table?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you go out of the house in
your evening gown?”
“I put on a street dress to go out —
as I’ve told you.”
“But your maid says you took off
your evening gown and prepared for
bed."
“Well?”
“Is that a fact?”
“Yes,” admitted Aline.
“Then after you got ready for bed,
something decided you to get up and
dress in your street suit. What was
that?”
“Your telephone message to father.”
“I phoned that Judson Flagg had
been murdered and there w*ere some
features about the case I wanted to
discuss, didn’t I?”
“About that.”
“And that decided you to dress
again?”
“It did.”
“And, if necessary, to go to Cap
tain Holbrook’s room?”
“Don’t answer that,” interposed
Graham.
“You object as her attorney?”
“As my attorney, I hope,” broke in
Holbrook, overdoing the matter a bit
in his manifest desire to shield the
girl. “Are you trying to manufacture
a PRINCIPAL case against me? Why.
1m only held as an accessory AFTER
the fact, so far ”
Chief Dempster continued inexor
ably.
"You vfhre two roses at dinner.
Miss Graham—WHAT BECAME OF
THOSE ROSES?”
“I don’t know.” faltered Aline.
“Don’t know'?” There was the sneer
of unbelief in Chief Dempster’s tone.
“I took them off—when T unclasped
this pin—that held them,” she fal
tered.
“Where did you put them?”
To Bo Continued To-morrow.
Advice to the
Lovelorn
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX
TRY LEAVING HIM.
J)EAR MISS FAIRFAX:
I have boon keeping house for
my brother-in-law and his two sons
ever since his wife died fifteen
months ag \ T have grown to love
him very dearly. I know he goes
to see A young girl and takes her
home on Saturday night. She Is
very much younger than he. He
tells me he is not going to be mar
ried. What would vou advise me
to do to gain his love, for it will
kill me if I lose him?
HATTIE C.
H E will try to keep you in hit
household as long as he needa
you. and the needs of a widower with
two children are urgent. You have
made him comfortable and with n:
result; try leaving him and making
nim uncomfortable
Almost Human.
There was only one possible ex
planation. Either Bill, the butcher
boy. had not a nodding acquaintance
with the elementary laws of horse
manship, or else the horse was a reg
ular brute.
With its ears weR ha^k. 1t would
trot along for a few yards and
stop dead; then. wtthout any warning,
start off again, only to stop once
more a little further on. The wretched
Bill, having had two solid hours of
this, was almost delirious.
“Hallo, my boy," cried out an inter
ested spectator. “What do you keep
pulling that horse up for? Are you
•oared of it?”
"Scared of It—pallin' It up?" an
swered the almost tearful youth.
“Whatcher take me for?”
"Well, something’s wrong with the
horse,” persisted the rtranger.
"You're right there,” *aJd Bill
heartily. "But I ain’t got nothin’ to
flo with it. Truth is, the beast is
no afraid that I shall say ‘Whoal’ and
; he won't hear me and he keeps etop-
| pin’ lo listen! See?”
The Effect of Moonlight.
It was at the seashore, and they
were sitting on the beach, beneath the
moon.
"What effect does full moon havs
upon the tide?” she naked, looking
sweetly up Into hla face,
i “None.” he replied, as he drew cloaer
to her; “but it has considerable effect
upon the ua-tied.”
Daysey Mayme and Her Folks
1 THOUGH Father’s roof doesn’t
leak, Daysey Mayme Appleton,
like all girls who have read
testimonials of love in romantic
vels, would like to leave It for a
r f of her own. Why she lingers so
g on Father's hands she doesn’t
Lderstand.
remained for her brother, Chaqn-
Devere Appleton, the Child Sta-
'ician, to discover the cause. His
'ort, made in a paper read before
Children’s Congress, is invaluable
a vindication of the charms of
daughter left on Father's hands.
The price of coal,” began Presi-
-r.t Chauncey Devere, wiping his
^msard brow, “has advanced 19 per
1 r -nt. in the past ten years; the stove
which the coal is burned cost
r *" A e as much as the stove before
'-‘eh Father courted Mother; there
a finer carpet at a higher price,
f ri all the special scenery for court-
■ is 30 per cent, more costly than
*’ w as a generation ago.”
He paused to frown at the wiggly
!dr*n in his audience who were j
interested in the problem of hav-
an older sister to marry off.
? 'c dress which Daysey Mayme J
- a cost nine and one-half times
w’hat a dress for & similar occasion
cost ten years back. The extra coat
of hair must be taken into consider
ation, an amount of which sufficient
to enthrall a young man will stagger
any father of moderate means.
“In brief, to put Daysey Mayme In
a pretty parlor, wearing good clothes
and with a smile or her Ups from
which all thought of expense must
be banished, cost 884 per cent more
than it would have cost a generation
ago. My figures prove that the get
ting of a husband has gone up in
price faster and higher than the
price of bacon, and only the daugh
ters of millionaires can afford to
try.
“Not only,” he continued, and the
hopelessness of ever ridding his home
of the tyrant rule of an older sister
made his voice tremble, “has the price
of bait gone up 3S4 per cent, but the
banks are lined with a larger num
ber of girls who are fishing; there
are few'er fish in the stream, and
these few fish are'3.689 per cent more
wary than the fish of several years
ago.” j
The picture of Daysey Mayme
spending the rest of her life with a
pole in the water overcame him and
he burst into tears
—FRANCES L. GARSl'DE
H ER first it is, too. So you sen. with that, It is entitled to come in the list of ”ter
rible mtnutes!” It might bo that it will be their last, but when Youth is this
young two round cheeked things with fraternity pins on their chests, his hair
with the convict cut, hers clinched at the nape of the neeji with a black velvet bow that
butterflies out above her brows and rippling still down her back—when Youth is this
young it likely should be called the “first,” for there will come others after.
Babette Is the prettiest girl in school, and she wears her hair in puffs over her ears
and her ankles are slim little affairs sheathed in silk stockings. Bill)' is a blonde chap
with his vests cm. extremely high, and bis collars deeply pointed, and his coat pinched
In the smartest way across the shoulders, and he wears his pipe-like trousers turned
up short—so short that it gives him the look of a young heron gone a-wading.
Well, It’s a terrible minute. There’s a miserable silence, and even her bird and her
dog square themselves around and looking him steadfastly In the eye seem to wonder
when he will begin. And he wonders if she has any notion of the thing that's on his
mind. If she has, she manages her face pretty well. “But girls are deep,” ruminates
Billiam. “You never can tell what'e In their heads!”
THE MANICURE LADY
“I
By WILLIAM F. KIRK.
FEEL kind of languid this morn
ing,” said the Manicure Lady.
“I was out to one of them old
fashioned country dances, and we had
so much fun that we didn’t get home
until three o'clock in the A. M. I
didn’t think when we started that we
was going to have any fun, but I w’as
doping it wrong. George. When I
wasn't in the thick of it myself I
w’as enloying myself w’atchlng the
other folks having their fun. And you
may believe me, George, they sure
did eat that party right up. I never
seen a congregation of people that
congregated so Joyous.”
“I used to have a iot of fun at them
cosntry dances when T tvrs young,'
said the Head Barber. “They didn't
ever looked bored or havs to pretend
that they were having a good time—
they had it.”
"We wouldn't have went to this
dance if it hadn’t been for brother
Wilfred.” explained the Manicure
Lady. ‘'The poor fellow has took the
notion Into his head lately that he
is * sure enough playwright. I guess
that playwright gent that T was keep
ing company with told Wilfred that
he ought to writs a play. Anyhow,
he has gtarted on a rural drama and
has two acts nearly did. The name of
the drama is Tn Maple 8yrup Time,
and Wilfred says that when he has It
all did it will be as sweet as its name
[ hope it don’t turn out to be no such
disappointment as most of his poems
has, but, anyhow, he took the notion
in his head that he wanted to get a
little color for -his play, so he dragged
us off ten miles across ths hills to
this country dance, me and sister
Mayme and some lunkhead friend of
Wilfred's that Is helping him put the
farm scenes into the play. Mayme had
to turn him down cold when he pro
posed marriage to her on the way
home after the dance, but outside of
that everything passed off mighty
smooth.
“It was kind of funny to watch
Wilfred posing. He had a notion in
hla head that them simple people
would feel embarrassed in his pres
ence. but there wasn't one of them
there that knew whether he had ever
wrote a poem or not, and I guess that
even if they had have known they
wouldn’t have cared. They was right
there tending to their knitting, doing
them square dances as if their lives
defended on them making ever) move
Tabloid Tales
right and taking them healthy coun
try swings when they came back to
their partners.
“I danced a few of the quadrilles
myself, but I guess th em new dances
I havs learned lately has threw out
of my head all the memories of the
old square dances. The new city
dances has been coming so thick and
fast that I have to keep busy learning
them. I have seven new dances like
the Tango to my discredit now.”
“Did your brother get his local
color?” asked the Head Barber.
“Yes I guess he did,” said the Man
icure Lady, and a beautiful load on |
besides. He tempted fafe enough to
drink about a gal’on of hard cider
and the hard cider went to his soft
head. He came neer getting up and
making a speech to tell the simple
country people why he had came there,
but 1 coaxed him not to make eo raw
a play, and we got him back into the
sleigh and home without no unpleas
ant happening. Gee. I wish I could be
as happy a« them oountry girls was
laet night! There wasn't a gent there
that forgot he was a gent. Well, the
dream is over, George Here comes
one of my dear customers.”
Observant.
“Be observant, my son. said Wlllle’i
father. “Cultivate tbe habit of seeing
and you will be a successful man.
“Yes,” added Ms uncle. “Don’t go
through the world blindly. Learn to
use your eyes.”
“Little boys who are observing
know a great deal more than those
who are not,” his aunt put in.
Willie took this advice to heart.
Next day he informed his mother
that he had been observing things.
“Uncle's got a bottle of whiskey
hidden in his trunk,” he said; “Aunt
Jane's got an extra set of teeth in her
drawer, and father’s got a pack of
cards behind the books In his desk!”
“The little sneak!” exclaimed the
members of the family indicated.
Some Reason.
The editor of the “heart-to-heart
talk” column of a daily newspaper re
ceived t'ne following letter from a
young man;
“Pleaee tell me why it is that a g*rl
closes her eyes when a fellow kisses
her?’’
To which the editor, in a fiendish
moment, replied:
•.Send me your photograpn and psr-
haps I can tell
A T what age. Mother, does a child
begin to detect its mother in a
falsehood?
Maternal reverence, Little One, for
bids an answer, but I have heard that
children of two years notice this: A
mother will remind a child it has on
its Best Dress an/i must keep it clean,
and five minutes later will say to a
neighbor in a deprecating way; “Oh,
that is only an old rag. I am ashamed
to have the child seen in it.”
What. Mother, is meknt by a "father's
strong hand?”
When a woman, Littffe One, is a wid
ow. the people nay her children need
a “Father’s strong hand,” but when
children have a father, this Is all "Fa
ther's strong hand” anioutns to: When
they arc had lie grumbles to ih-eir
mother. “Why don't you make those
children behave?”
What, Mother, is the important dif
ference between the sympathy of a
Mother and that of a Father?
Father, My Child, has to have had the
measles to be able to sympathize with
the children, and Mother doesn't.
Is there any way, Mother Dear, for
a man to get his wife to notice that
there is a button off hie coat without
calling her attention to it?
Certainly, My Child. If a man wants
ids wife to notice that a button is off
his coat, lot him put a woman’s hair
w’here the button ought to be.
What, Mother Mine, is meant by pass
ing between Scylla and Charybdis?
it means, Little One, the experience
of every Mother whose children demand
more money of her, arui whose hus
band tells- her she must get along on
less.
What is.the Daughter thinking about,
Mother Dear?
Every Daughter. Little One, is think
ing if she were Mother, she would make
Father stand around.
Heaven, I am sure. Mother Mine, will
be satisfactory to the women, but will
it t»e satisfactory to man?
Not unless, My Child, he can occa
sionally be sent somewhere as a dele-
ga ’ i
What. Mother Mine, is the proof of
an old-fashioned woman?
There arc many, Little One, from
skirt, pocketa to heavy hose, but the
ultimate proof is her jelly cake. No
woman can claim to be old-fashioned
if her jelly cake has less than nine
layers.
What. Mother, is Imagination.’
It is man’s favorite name for any
thing that ails a woman.
What is meant by the exp'ression "se
cret sorrow?”
It is a secret every one is ready to
give away if sympathetically encour
aged.
What, Mother, is meant by the words
“At Home” on wedding announcements?
It is the date. My Child, until which
». very one *is expected to keep away to
give the bride a chance to get her pic
tures hung
FRA A C/,S' L. GARSIDE.
THE TEARFUL WEDDING GUEST
Uprio-Pate Jokes ]
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
S O she doesn’t want to go to the
theater with you unless you can
buy the very best seats in the
house, and after the theater, when you
took her out for some ice cream at
the little candy store, she sniffed and
began telling you about the fine sup
pers some other man gives her when
he takes her out.
What shall you do about it?
I know what I’d do about it if I
were in your place. 1 would stop
curing the snap of my finger for what
such a goose of a girl says or hints—
or even thinks.
What does she think you are—
millionaire—and what is she, pray till
—a princess of the blood royal?
What sort of a home has she—does
she live in a palace or in a castle, and
how many times does she expect h a r
friends and acquaintances to kn >ck
their heads on the floor before they
dare to come into her august pres
ence?
What claim bee she to such royal
tastes?
Is she such a gorgeous beauty that
no man can look at her without *i
dreadful fluttering of the heart?
Is she an Intellectual giantess,
whose every word sparkles with the
incrusted wisdom of the ages?
Or is she just some little pug-nosed,
Where No Money Is Used
The Island of Ascension, In the At
lantic Ocean, is of volcanic forma
tion, and has a population of only
460. It was uninhabited until the
confinement of Napoleon at St. Hel
ena. when it was occupied by a small
British force.
Ascension is governed by a captain
appointed by the British Admiralty.
There is no private property in land,
no rents, no taxes and no use for
money. The flocks and herds are
public property and the meat ts is
sued as rations. So are the vegeta
bles grown on the farms. When an
island fisherman makes a catch he
brings it to the guardroom, where it
is issued by the sergeant major.
Practically the entire population are
sailors, and they work at moat of the
common trades. The muleteer is a
Jack Tar; so Is the gardener; so are
the shepherds, the stockmen, the
grooms, carpenters and plumbers.
The climate is almost perfect and
anything can be grown.
round-eyed gir! who would never be
missed if the stepped right out of the
world thi« very minute?
I neveT saw a really beautiful or
really fine woman In my life who
cared a cent about havi.ig people
“spend money on her,” Ju to show
how much they thought of her.
What sort of a wife would a girl
like that make an honest, hard
working man?
Why, she’d make you live on one
meal a day, and that a rnoag* r one,
Jupt so that she had fine feathers to
show her friends to prove how much
you loved her.
Make a home for you never in thq
wide, wide world.
She’d rather have a two-room flj.t
without a window in the second room
and sleep on something that pretend
ed to be a bookcase or a writing desk,
or anything except a good, sensible
bed, and eat on some kind of a shelf
rigged up to hide the gas plate, than
to live in the prettiest, most comfort
able little house In the wrnrld.
What she wants Is show—display.
She’d rather have a hallboy in but
tons at the front door of the flat than
a delivery hoy with a good porter
house steak and some green vegeta
bles at he back.
She isn’t a real woman at all, (1iis
girl of yours, young man. She’s just
a poor, little, pasteboard imitation —
like the beautiful ladies who hold up
baskets of flowers in the gard n
scene at the theater.
Turn your eyes away from her.
young man. she isn’t even worth
looking at.
DID IT WORK?
The Kodak you got Christmas? Bring
the films to JOHN L. MOORE <£ SONS
for expert finishing. They will also
make clear any point you don’t under
stand. Kodak Headquarters. 42 North
Broad street.—Advt.
Typewriters rented 4 mos.,
$5 up. Am. Wtg. Mch. Co.
PER TON
The Jelllco Coal Ct.
■2 PEACHTREE ST.
Atlanta Phone 3668
Bell Phone Ivy 1585
Mr. J. L. Toole haA a great antipathy
'n strret music of any kind About
this there Is a story told of him. The
waits, one Christmas evening, played
under hla windows, greatly to his an
novance, and on Boxing Day they
paid him a villi
"We ployed under your window last
night,” said the spokesman of the
party, when they were shown into his
presence.
“Well, and what do you wantT“
quoth the comedian.
“We ve come for our little gratuity.”
“Come for a gratuity, have you?”
exclaimed Mr. Toole. “Bless me! I
thought you had come to apologize!*'
• • •
While travelling on a steamboat, a
notorious card-sharper, who wished to
get into the good graces of a clergy
man who was on board, said to the
reverend gentleman:
“I should very much like to hear
one of your sermons, sir.”
“Well,” replied the clergyman, “you
could have heard me last Sunday if
you had been where you should have
be^n.”
“Where was that then?”
“In the county Jail,” wes the an
swer.
• • •
A gentleman, rushing from his din
ing room into the hall and sniffing
disgustedly, demanded of Jeames, the
footman whence arose the outrageous
odor that waa pervading the whole
house. To which Jeames replied:
“You see, sir, to-day's a aaint’a day.
and the butler, e's igh church, and
in burning hinoenee. and the cook,
she’s low church, and Is burning
brown paper to hebviate the hin-
censc”
This is Guaranteed to Stop
Your Cough
Make This Family Supply of Cough
Syrup at Home and
Save $2.
, This plan makes a pint of better
. cough syrup than you could buy
) ready made for A few doses
( usually conquer' an ordinary cough
■) - relieves even whooping cough
Quickly. Simple as it is. no better
remedy can be had at any price.
Mix 1 pint of granulated sugar
with 1 2 pint of warm water, and stir
1 for two minutes. Put 2^ ounces of
Pinex (50 cents’ worth) in a pint
bottle; then add the Sugar Syrup.
It has a pleasant taste and lasts a
family a long time. Take a lea-
npoonful every one, two or three
t hour*.
You can feel this take hold of a
. cough in a way that means busi
ness.
Has a good tonic effect, braces up
the appetite, and is slightly laxative.
1 too. which is helpful. A handy rein-
, edy for hoarseness, spasmodic croup.
J bronchitis, bronchial asthma and
whooping cough.
The effect of pine on the mem
branes Is well known Plnex is a
most valuable concentrated com
pound of Norwegian white pine ex-
. tract, and is rich in guaiacol and
other natural healing pine elements.
Other preparations will not work in
{ this combination.
This Pinex and Sugar Syrup Rem
edy has often been imitated, though
never successfully. It is now used
in more homes than any other cough
remedy.
A guaranty of absolute satisfac
tion, or money promptly refunded,
aoes with this, preparation. Your
druggist has Pinex. or will get it for
you. If not, send to The Pinex
Company, Fort Wayne. Ind.