Newspaper Page Text
DYNAMITING THE DOG.
A Remarkable FUh Story In Which Ni
Fish Appear.
As a reporter was browsing
one of the down town hotels the
clerk pointed out to him a tall, an
gular boy of 18 or 19, lolling all over
a chair in front of a window com
manding a view of tho avonua and
apparently having a first rate time
to be so far away from home. Ths
clerk took the reporter nv t to the
boy after a minute or two and intro
duced him, with the remark that the
reporter wanted to know about that
fish story.
“Well,” smiled the youngster, “it
wasn't so much of a fish story as it
was a dog story, and ft wasn’t so
much a dog story after it was all
over as it was when wo first took the
dog out wit j us. You see, it was
this way: Four or five of us young
fellers took a notion wo'd go a-fishin,
and wo took a dog along. Ho was a
nice little dog, that was so fond of
water that people swore-bo'd never
been raised in Kentucky, but he was.
He was my dog, and I ought to
know. We was fishin in a pond, and
after about three hours of it we
didn’t git a smell, much loss a bite,
and somebody come along and said
tho way to fish a pond was with
dynamite.
“All wo had to do was to sling a
cartridge in, let her blow up, and
we'd have fish to carry home on a
freight train. The cuss that told us
was a railroad hand and was work
in down the road about a mile, and
if we'd go down there we could got
for half a dollar enough to shoot all
the fish in the county. Me and an
other feller went along with him,
and they fixed up a cartridge tied to
a floater, and all we had to do was to
light the fuse, sling it in the pond
and run like the devil. The dyna
mite would do the rest. We forked
over the half dollar—course, they
bought whisky with it—and went
back to the pond, where the others
was waitin.
“Then we follered directions, but
we forgot the dog, and when I slung
in the cartridge and tho float the
dog he give a yelp of joy and, bang!
he went in after it. He got it, too,
and started fc r shore with it, though
we fired rocks at him and bowled
our lungs out to make him lot it go.
That’s the kind of a dog he was. He
never did know what to let go was.
Well, we seen wo couldn’t stay
around there, and we wont a-whoop
in, and tho dog camo after ns, drag
gin the dynamite, for it wasn’t
heavy, and catchin up with us at 40
miles an hour
“He was friskin Ilia tail and yelp
in, pleased most to death, and we
was geti in scareder, for we knew
that stuff was goin off pretty soon,
and when it did there was goin to
bo heavy thunder. I don’t know
what would have happened if it
hadn't ’a’ been for a fence that wo got
over. The dog couldn’t got tho float
through the cracks, and whilo bo
was draggin at it and barkin fit to
kill that cartridge went off right by
his nose, and when wo got on our
feet again at tho foot of tho hill we
couldn't see anything of dog ncr
floater nor about four panels of
fence. They all went together, and
we felt so thankful when we picked
ourselves up that wo organized a
prayer meetin right there and sung
a hymn.”—Washington Star.
Lucy Larcom and Whittier.
Miss Larcom had absolute simplic
ity of manner. I never saw in her
a trace of either embarrassment or
elaboration, much less of affectation.
Sho was a motherly looking woman.
A stranger might have guessed her
to be in the process of putting sev
eral boys through college and not in
the least worried about their debts
and never nagging them about their
scrapes.
This ease of nature sometimes led
to a little dreaminess, or absence of
practical attention, of which liter
friends were laughingly and loving
ly aware. There is a story told of a
ride that she took with Mr. Whittier
—I cannot now recall it in his pre
cise words. The hill was steep. Mr.
Whittier was driving. The horse
was gay. The load—on the lady's
side at least—was not light. Lucy
Larcom was talking, and she talked
Y fke subject was the life
-V all events, it was some
Mstract theme, .rav© and high. The
liorse gn w The buggy
Unrobed and r Whittier grasp
ed the i '-is va iantly, anticipating
I a possible accident and centering his
flying on the emergency. But Lucy
talked on serenely. The horse
threatened to break. The danger re
doubled. The buggy sagged heavily
on Lucy’s side. Still peacefully she
murmured on.
“Lucy!" exploded the poet at last.
< *L'ocy! If thee do not stop talking
till I get this horse in hand, thee
will be in heaven before thee wants
to!” Elizabeth Stuart Phelps in
Mc/'lure's.
r
Glycerin ami Rose Water.
k The mixture of glycerin and rose
so often recommended for its
■raliug an>l soothing qualities, is
Bade by a< ding ten parts of rose
■vater to one part of glycerin.
BLACKMAIL IN ENGLAND.
Secret Owning Servants Seem to De the
Greatest Culprits There.
That was a w:se philosopher who
remarked that a valet knows his
master's character better than any
cue else. In the privacy of his
chamber a busy, harassed man is
apt to throw off all reserve and to
reveal those very traits in his dispo
sition which he otherwise takes tho
utmost caro to conceal.
A valet or a lady’s maid has al
most unlimited opportunities for
blackmailing. Their chances of pry
ing into their masters’ affairs are
unequaled.
It is not surprising, therefore, that
servants who extort money are
among the worst terrors with which
society people have to contend.
Toward the end of last year a well
known public man was found dead
in his bed. It was evident that ho
had poisoned himself, although no
cause for the deed could be discov
ered. A few days ago an old valet
of the unfortunate man, now a pub
lie house keeper, received a severe
injury from a fall from a scaffold,
and fearing that he would not recov
er he confessed that it was chiefly
through his instrumentality that
his master had been driven to his
death.
Ho had found in an old drawer a
packet of papers which, without
doubt, contained past history. Be
ing in need of money, ho demanded
a payment of £lO, in default of
which ho threatened to make the
papers public. The money was paid,
but he soon ran through it, since he
had lost his situation. He again ap
plied for another £lO, and finally
succeeded in obtaining it. He now
wished to set up a public house and
found that £2O would allow him to
do so. Accordingly, for that sum he
sold his master’s secret to two men
of his acquaintance.
These mon immediately organized
a system of blackmailing, with the
result that their wretched victim
was driven to take his own life in
order that he might escape from
their toils.
This is cnly one instance selected
at random from a little pile of the
kind.
Those who read the society papers
or otherwise become acquainted
with scandals will remember the
case which occurred a few weeks
ago, of the duchess who was habit
ually addicted to the use of a certain
drug, which proved very fatal so far
as her social position was concerned.
What did not transpire at the time,
however, was the fact that her lady
ship’s maid had amassed a consider
able fortune by a skillful manuipu
lation of the knowledge of her em
ployer's weakness. It would fre
quently happen that when driving
her carriage and pair in the park
she would meet her one time mis
tress and force her to hand over
then and there any money that she
might have in her purse.
A man or woman with a past has
no worse enemy than a blackmail
ing servant.—Pearson's Weekly.
She Turned L’p Again.
“I rode up to a cabin in Knox
county, Ky.,”said John Williams,
a traveling man, to a Star reporter,
“and, as I approached, the man of
the house inquired:
“Stranger, did yo’ see a redhead
ed gal with a yaller sunbonnet comin
from town?”
“
“ ‘I reckon she’ll bo hyer termor
rer.’
“ ‘Expecting company?’
“ ‘No; jess my darter. She'd been
down ter Frankfort. She tuk in her
head ter git married an run off with
a no ’count feller, Tim Hadley. They
stole a raft o’ mine an floated down
the Kaintuck ter Frankfort. ’
“ ‘Did you stop them?’
“ ‘No. Mail gits ter Frankfort
quicker'n a raft, so I writ ter Jim
Wakefield down thar ter buy the
logs, put Tim in jail fer stealin the
raft an send the money back hyer
with Sal. I reckon she missed the
stage.’
“At that moment a girl turned
the corner of the road, and the old
man said •
“ ‘Waal, Sal, yo’ got back?’
“ Yaas, dad.’
“ ‘Tim in jail?’
“ ‘Yaas, dad.’
“ ‘Bring back the money fer the
logs?’
“ ‘Yaas, dad.’
“ ‘Waal, go in an cook supper,
an nex’ time yo’ git married run
off with a man who has more gump
tion than ter try ter git away on a
raft. ’
“ ‘Yaas, dad.’ And the girl went
to the kitchen as though she had
never left it.”—Washington Star.
Our Own Volcanoes.
There is conclusive evidence with
in the past half century that several
of cur great mountains in the north
western part of the country, formed
as they were by the piling up of vol
canic matter, cannot be numbered
yet among the wholly extinct vol
canoes. North of Mount Hood, in
the state of Washington, are the
great peaks of Baker, Ranier and
St. Helens, all of them very mildly
active.
CONVENT EDUCATION.
The Flaee Where Girls Are Prepared Only
tn Appear Well In Society.
To show the transformation that
woman's education has undergone
in Franco and to indicate as clearly
as possible what still remains of the
old forms and what new ones the
future promises, I ask permission to
go back to tho last century, when a
little girl, far from being her moth
er's inseparable companion, as she is
now, was merely brought to her once
a day by her governess. When 11
or 12 years old, she was taken to a
convent, where, we are told, she ac
quired “the accomplishments neces
sary to the status of a woman who
is to live in society, hold a certain
place there, and even manage a
household. ”
This may seem very extraordinary
to those who imagine a convent as a
prison or a tomb, but it is certain
that the unchanging convent has re
mained just what it was when Rous
seau was both praising and blaming
it. Tho boarding pupils still play
many games and have plenty of ex
ercise, and the result is that thdy
arc usually in very good health. The
calm serenity of the moral atmos
phere surrounding them seems to
preserve them from all nervous ex
citement. Besides tho convents—and
I refer to the great convents such as
tho Sacred Heart, the Roule or Les
Oi. eaux—are still the places where
women are best prepared for appear
ing well in society. How is this
done? By keeping up old traditions,
the special formulas of a fortunately 7
vanished period when a young girl
left the convent only to bo married.
She was then at once supposed to ig
nore no single shade of etiquette, to
do nothing awkward, to be armed
from head to foot for the grand cere
mony of her presentation at court.
Those may be puerile formulas,
but they separated one, once for all,
from the common people, and they
are still preserved behind those great
walls that immure the past. In ad
dition, the nuns, who are the guard
ians of these traditions, frequently
belong to aristocratic families. This
atmosphere of hostility to all prog
ress, this silent protest against both
the good and the evil of modern
times confounded in the same tacit
reproach, are the convent’s worst
features.
It would seem like a scene from
the middle ages if an American Prot
estant could see the parlor of the
celebrated convent of the Visitan
dines, where little girls come to talk
on Sundays to their relations behind
a double set of narrow gratings. Not
all convents are cloistered. There
are some whore no grating separates
parents and children, but there is al
ways a nun walking up and down,
discreetly present at all interviews,
and all letters sent or received must
be read by the superior. Save during
the two months of vacation, the sep
aration between mother and daugh
ter is complete, and this is why in
the present time, when home educa
tion seems to prevail, the convents
are less in favor than formerly.—
Th. Bentzon in Century.
Dying Confessions.
“Although the public seldom hoars
of them, dying confessions of the
most strange and startling character
are often made by our patients,”
said one of the head nurses of a
great London hospital.
“I have known many cases in
which men and women, apparently
paupers, have at the last extremity
informed us that they belonged to
rich and aristocratic families, and
have requested us to communicate
with their relatives. What do you
think of a miserable, faded old wo
man, brought from one of the most
poverty stricken streets in London,
turning out to be the sister of a
marquis?
“Only a few months ago a man
was brought here from a wretched
lodging—the complaint from which
he was suffering being greatly ag
gravated by starvation. When to’l
he could not live, he made a wnl
bequeathing something like £30,-
000. He was an ex-fellow of one of
the colleges of Cambridge univer
sity.
“Not long before a man had died
here who informed us when dying
that he had been a colonel in the
English army and had been one of
the generals of Don Carlos of Spain.
“In one case a man who had been
tried and acquitted of murder many
years ago confessed that he was, aft
er all, the guilty man.”—Pearson’s
Weekly.
First English Insurance.
In 1667, immediately after the
great fire of London, offices were
opened in that city for insuring
householders against loss in case of
the destruction of their property by
fire. The idea was given to the Eng
lish by Italian factors, who were fa
miliar with insurance in their own
country.
Suitable.
Mr. Cumso—l have bought you a
book for your railway journey
which you will appreciate, my dear.
Mrs. Cumso—How kind of you!
What is its title?
Mr. Cumso—lt is a mileage book.
—Detroit Free Press.
FRENCH CHILDREN.
They Lack the Precot lons Assurance of
American Children.
I Physically the French baby re
. semblcs the American much more
: than the English baby. Ours are
not magnificent lumps cf pink and
■ white flesh dimpled all over. Being
agile, wide awake and mischievous,
they are not as shy as English chil
dren; still, they lack the precocious
assurance cf the American child,
wflio is afraid cf nothing. No one
goes into ecstasies over them, al
though, in fact, they are adored.
They do not feel that they are the
rulers of the household. They soon
learn to keep their place and seem
to understand that, though their
mamma may give herself up to them
' entirely, they are not equally inter
esting to the remainder of the world.
It called to the drawing room, they
come in washed and combed, bow
politely and leave before becoming
tiresome. They are not allowed to
• come to the table, even in the strict
est intimacy, until they can behave
properly, be silent and commit no
awkward blunders. They are for
bidden to ask for anything, but this
does not prevent them from getting
whatever they want.
It is needless to say that we teach
our children not to sop up their
sauce with bits of bread, not to gulp
down their soup audibly and not to
* eat with their knife, but we special
ly require that they should not leave
j anything on their plate after having
i accepted it from the dish. It is not
the waste alone; it is tho absolute
impoliteness cf tho act, which con
i sists in a guest leaving half of what
Ihe has been helped to untouched,
under the anxious gaze of tho host
i ess, who naturally supposes that
! nothing is to his taste.
From the moment our children
\ know how to handle a knife and
i fork they are told never to express
an opinion, favorable or the reverse,
as to what they are eating and to
eat everything put before them. The
habit clings through life. In gen
eral they do not try to attract at
tention, do not express opinions, are
not as loud and noisy as American
children.
Their sayings, their clever tricks,
are not quoted, and what is feared
more than all is to make them con
sider themselves important. Al
though their health is carefully
watched, yet their guardians do not
constantly experiment upon them
with t) newest hygienic methods.
Instead of trying to develop the
principles of causality as early as
possible, we usually advise them not
to be asking questions perpetually.
Passive obedience is indispensable
without questioning the command
and extreme politeness toward serv
ants is strictly enforced. Needless
to say, there are many breaches of
the law, but there are also many
punishments, which, I must admit,
! they sometimes take with a certain
I amount of cynicism. Here is a quite
'recent example. A young gentle
man of 5 followed his mother, who
was looking at an apartment with
the view of hiring it. “I think,”
said the lady, after her examination,
“that this will suit me.” “Oh, no,
mamma,** said the little boy, break
ing in. “It’s impossible; there’s no
dark closet! Where could you put
mo when I’m naughty?”—Th. Bent
zon in Century.
Fishes Hooked and Lost.
“When an angler’s line breaks,
and he loses a fish,” a fisherman
said, “it isn’t certain that the fish is
lost for good. Another angler may
catch it, and sometimes an angler
catches and lands a fish that he has
once lost himself. Fishermen scarce
ly ever draw a seine without taking
one or more fish that have been
hooked and lost. Sometimes such
fishes are in good condition, some
times emaciated and feeble. It may
depend on how long they have
had the hook in their mouth or on
how they were hooked. I’ve heard
of a striped bass that was a good
lively fish, though it had a hook in
its mouth and was towing a length
of line with an another hook and a
sinker attached to it. Sometimes a
fish that has broken away with a
hook starts out with maybe six feet
of line trailing from it. Sooner or
later other fish are likely to bite this
off. A fish may have been hooked
in such away that it can’t feed. Os
course it couldn’t live without eat
ing. The wound mode by a hook
may be attacked by fungus. In that
case the fungus would be likely to
kill it. It might be that the wound
caused by a hook would be so slight
that it would heal up with the hook
imbedded in it, and the fish might
get along all right. But a fish with
a hook in its mouth is most likely
to die.”—New York Sun.
A Modification.
Rastus—l heah tell dat yo’ new
temperance s'iety dene got a motto,
“De lips dat touch wine ken nebber
touch mine.” Wbuffor good dat
gwine do? Dese common niggahs
dean" see wine once a yeah.
Miss Lindy—Dat ain't all. Vie
done got anodder verse, “De lips dat
touch gin, we won't go agin.” How
flat strike you, huh?—lndianapolis
Journal.
THE SENSE OF HUMOR,
It Wai Not Wholly Absent, In Spite cC
Ap pen i inces.
It was a little incident lazily ob
served in a country hotel, hardly
worth printing perhaps, but it seem
ed rather humorous at the time.
Four or five of the boarders were
sitting about the office waiting for
dinner to be announced, and eno was
walking about in a contemplative
; mood with his hands in his pockets.
; Stopping before a big, good naturod
looking man and, taking bis pipe.
; from his mouth, he asked:
“Did you read that snake story ,n
last Sunday's Globe?”
“No,” said tho other.
, “Best thing I ever saw,” pulling
a worn newspaper cut of his pocket
and presenting it with a smile,
“There it is. Read it.”
“Oh, life’s too short, Dan.”
“Won’t you road it?”
“Not now. ”
The good natured man remained
tilted back in his chair, doing noth
ing, and Dan, rather sheepishly put
ting the paper in bis pocket, resum
ed his contemplative walk.
“Did you read that, colonel?” he
askod finally, stopping before a gray
whiskered man, who was cleaning
his finger nails.
“I did not, Dan,’’said tho colonel,
shutting his knife with a snap.
“It’s a mighty funny thing. Just
read it.” Tho paper camo cut cf his
pocket again.
“Well, after dinner.”
“No, mo. Read it now. It’s good.”
“After dinner, ” said the colonel,
decisively, and Dan walked off again
with his hands under his coattails.
“You saw that,” he said after
awhile to a tall man with sandy
whiskers, who sat quietly in a cor
ner of tho room.
“Saw what?” asked the tall man,
awakened from his reverie.
Dan produced his paper and held
it out, with one finger on tho marked
article. “That snake story in Tho
Globe. Funniest thing you ever
read.”
“Oh, I don’t know’s I want to read
it, Dan,'’said tho tall man, brushing
off his vest aud looking toward the
dining room.
Dan walked slowly around .the
room toward a newcomer, who had
been washing at the sink and was
now combing his hair.
“When you got through, George,”
he said, “I want you to read this
snake story in Sunday’s Globe. I
never laughed over anything so
much in my life. ”
Tho man put his comb in his vest
pocket, took tho paper, glanced at
the article and handed it back.
“That’s too long, Dan,” he said,
and as he lounged up to look over
the pages of the register Dan broke
out:
“By gosh,” said he, “if this town
ain’t full of the darndest old solemn
chumps! Why, you can’t appreciate
nothing. I swum, I do like to see
folks with a little bit of a sense cf
humor, but you might as well look
for it in a graveyard as here.”
He sat down and gazed moodily at
the floor, while the deep seated
smiles and knowing winks that
went round the room seemed to in
dicate that the sense of humor was
present m some degree, after all.—
Detroit Free Press.
Tlie Prehistoric Horse of the Rockies.
Professor Henry Fairfield Osborn
of the American Museum of Natural
History in The Century describes
the remarkable fossil remains that
are found near Bridger lake, in the
Rockies. He says:
“If we leave the lake shore and
pass into tho drier upland, we dis
cover tho clever little four toed
horse, swift, alert, intelligent. Hois,
i to use tho modern measure, only
! four hands, or 16 inches, high, so he
would not reach the knee of tho
uintathere and could ba devoured
at one sitting by tho patriofelis. His
limbs are as slender as pencils. His
large eyes are much farther forward
than in the horse. Ho could readily
hide among the taller stalks, and it
is possible that ho had the begin
ning of protective stripes imitating
reed shadows upon his neck and
mane. In his hair and coloring, how
ever, we pass into pure conjecture.
His well worn chisel shaped front
teeth indicate that he was already a
cropper or browser, and the evident
secret of his triumphant persistence
over his ponderous contemporaries
is that he learned to browse just
about the timo that grasses began to
appear. Ho was the animal for the
times.
Donald Was Right.
I A man walking by an old grave
yard in Aberdeenshire beheld sit
ting on a- wall an aged highlander
with his head wrapped up in a shawl,
evidently suffering from a bad cold.
“Goodmorning, Donald,’’said he.
“You seem to be suffering from a
bad boast” (cough).
“Eon, sir,” said the old man,
pointing to tho graves, “but there’s
mony a yin over there would ba
--4 ► ~ t
Children Cry for
Pitcher’s Castoria.
Children Cry for
Pitcher’s Castoria.
S A visiTto the Sickroom ::
I -
I TOUCHING o
| Bslkidcnna Plotter j;
HINDERCORNS The only sure Care for
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PARKS K’S
HAIR BALSAiVf
w?Cleanses and beautifies the hide
—wW Promotes s luxuriant growth.
G5-jJßjNf'ver Fails to Restore Gray
Hair to its Youthful Color.
Cures scalp diseases & hair falling.
aic.tnAtjl.M at Druggists ,
or hav.
Tr.'iitrnstion. Paimnl i-ls Hebint' of any kind uso
BARKER’S GINGER TONIC. Many who w*re hopo
icssar*d discouraged have regained health by its use.
•SAizvrt wrejmtiji-w.■'W.-.warxt um
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EEY’S CREAM BALM is a positive cure.
Apply into the nostrils. It is quickly absorbed. 50
cents at Drnegists or by mail; samples 10c. by mail.
ELY BROTHERS, 50 Warren St., New York City.
IGOO WAYSTOURE A COLD!
Quinine, aconite, hot ten, onion syrup, whi-key and
quinine, rock ctuiiiy and rye, a “sweat.” foot bath, star
vation feedial?, wrapping your liosc around your neck,
cod liver oil, anil old hitinlreds cough cure, tliese and
over HOI) other wev. are used bv the Itiiman race to cure
a cold. Tue le li.-ny is to make It sIIJiAVS :it:yril<U.
ISUALER ycur daily companion aud you will never
catch cold.
Aman must, bo miserable indeed
~ is," 1« who is laid up with it bail Coltl, Ca
/7 t.u’Ali, Headache, tumble to breathe
X’AVi without pain, his throut sore and hltl
head throbbin l! ,wl l en one lift If pn>-
_ S-tyJ duct in tlto market called 1 1 sit l ! a.. 3
' >. IMIAI.EIC will give hits instant ra-
lleL
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Tie may go on and on, snooze hH
bond oS for that, matter, hiihlc ami AaW
snort aroimd to everybody's di3com- /
tit.ure. Iliseyesmaybecome*intkuned, ) 'si; 1
his head and car" :■ he, and his threat
so sore he can hardly swallow. Pa- r* \ /Jr — < \
tient he must be to endure it fill when \ py A V
for 50c. li 1 c m buy (ll’t-Ux‘.h’s .'.’LN- \if / j
TBOii iNHALKiI and restore himself f
to his normal condition.
Cushman’s Menthol Inhaler a jewel ?
A woman will sit around prostre.t--
ed in nerves, feeling desperate over
lofla of s!een, head and « yes racked
with pain,' cc’.d settled in every
’ bone, so miserable thr«t life seems
I a blank, but if she would make the
l*H marvebA’3 little instrument known
$ •'-« tr.'.b’MAirs MENTHOL imiaieic
tJUKxizjj her daily companion, her headaches
would come less frequent, she would never have a cold,
and sore throat aud catarrh would have no terrors.
NEVER NEGLECT A COLD OR COUGH
Neglect a Cold or Cough and if La
Grippe don’t get v<»u, Consumption
will. C! Ml MA .VS I MI A LER cures colds
and all diseases of the breathway
passages. You lose dollars in doc- VXiTi \
tor bills in not keeping UL’MIMAN’S
INHALER handy to drive oft' a cold f,/\
or cough or sore throat at its very <7
first approach.
The Greatest Authority in the World. ’
a Dr. J. Lennox Browne, F. R. C.
S. Ed. Senior Surgeon to the Cen
tral London Throat and Ear Hos
pital, says: “The vapor of Menthol
checks in a manner hardly less than
a marvelous, acute Colds in the head.
* X For all forms of nasal diseases, caus
ft ing obstruction to the natural
’7 T breathwav. I prescribe CUSHMAN’S
(r s / '■' » ENTHOL INH a LEit to the extent of
I 7 hundreds per annum.”
e'' / [I» not thi* recommendation Fnfßc’.entthat all
DR. BROWNE. who road ma y P roCt b >’ U J
Brings sleep to the sleepless. Cures Insomnia
and Xervous Prostration. Don’t be fooled with worth
less imitations. Take only CUSHMAN’S. sOc. at
druggists, or mailed, postpaid, on receipt of price. Write
for book on Menthol and teslbnonials.
CUSHMAN DRUG CO., VINCENNES, IND., U. S. A.
NO KOBE h|
Ho ; "leak
-*‘ n . ’
Mo’--’ ■ , , ■ ’
lEITCHKgI/S
r-I'. ’ -J! P-J
A Ccrt.-.tti
---t •-•ok-.
in'/ Z '■
<:>'■. • '■■■-> ' Y
CfircrJi'i'b
Tumors,?’. . • " - '
AKDPnopT ■'. • . 1.
XXxl i f '■ ‘ ~ ’
Also, A--;-.-' 1 : : ■ -J
other .
Sores, 'i !•. '»•:■«. ft-'ili. : tr.-;.;.
Piles, or • ■ -1 '■.•Xis’."
MSTcirc-t <■ •' ■ •
SOLD BV 51- ... Q CkllTS*
i"Bloo?and'skfn' Diseases ’
Always R R R ;
Cured. aß ' B '
1 BOTANIC BDOOB BAK.M never fails J
1 to cure all manner of Blood and Skin dis- ,
1 eases. It is the great Southern building up (
1 and purifying Remedy, and cures all manner
l of skin and blood diseases. As a building (
1 up tonic it is without a rival, and absolutely
beyond comparison with any other similar
' remedy ever offered to the public. It is a
panacea for all ills resulting from impure
blood, or an impoverished condition of the
human system. A single bottle will demon
strate its paramount virtues.
for free book of Wonderful Cures. 1 1
' Price, SI.OO per large bottle; $5.00 for six
bottles. t
1 For sale by druggists: if not send to us, x
I and medicine will be sent freight prepaid on X
1 receipt of price. Address Z
f BLOOD BALM CO., Atlanta, G«. J