Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, November 12, 1904, Page 2

B. PAUL CHAPTER XiI.—(Continued. There was, too, a strange, damp, earthy smell, very different from the freshness of the salt wind across the open levels of the sea. At a word from Ruffidge the men boated their oars, and as they did so their skiff passed another and larger boat, apparently se- cured in some way; empty, she seem- ed, but very low in the water. Neither uncle nor nephews appeared to notice her. The former stood, a boat hook in his right hand, guiding their course and keeping the skiff’s head from the rocks which rose on both sides of them. They seemed to_be threading a narrow, winding channel, and as Mr. Leife put out his hand he felt it sharply grazed by the rough sand- stone and knew they must be moving pretty fast. Suddenly, high up on their feft hand, a pale, ghostly light gleam- ed for a moment, then disappeared, leaving, it seemed, a deeper blackness. Ruffidge leaned over across the rowers and touched the curate’s arm. “There’s something wrong with this boat,” he whispered; “she's filling fast. It’s all that little fiend’s work, I believe. I’m going to try to climb up here; there’s some sort of an opening I saw up there. See if you can keep Ler steady for a moment with this.” And he handed over the boat hook. Then he rose in the boat, which rocked violently in spite of all Mr. Leife’s @fforts to steady her. The next moment he was gone. There was a sound of scraping, some fragments of stone came clattering down, and— ominous sound—splashed in the boat. Indeed, the curate could not feel the water swishing round his feet, and much he wondered that he had not no- ticed it before. Now, Dave; now, whisper from above; the only chance.” By this time the water was fairly pouring into thg boat, and, as the young fellows rose and clambered up, instead of riding more lightly, she seemed to settle down the faster. “Now, sir, hold out your hand,” came the whisper again. } The curate stood up, and as he did so he felt the boat sinking under him. He stretched his right hand upward, and as he did so his fingers seized a projection. At that moment the light from above shone out again, but now so brightly that it dazzled their eyes. He heard a loud rumble of something falling fast toward him. He heard, too, what sounded like an agonized ery of warning. Instinctively he threw his head on one side an dsomething struck him heavily on the left shoul- der. He felt a sudden blow, followed by a sharp throb of pain; then came a plunge into the hurrying water. After that he lost all consciousness. Sam,” “up here; came a it’s ¢ CHAPTER Xill. The same evening, about 8 o'clock, Wellie was standing on the vicarage porch, looking into the darkness with a disgonsolate face. It was deadly dull, for the vicar had gone with his sister to a whist party at the Knoil, Dr. Catell’s house. Maria, the cook, had retired to bed with a bad head- ache, and Jennie, the housemaid, was turning an attentive ear at the back door to the laborious compliments of Martin Butter, the blacksmith’s ap- prentice. Even Phil had mysteriously disappeared, so that there was not a soul with whom to exchange a_ word. As she stood there, wondering how she should pass the hour which yet remained before bed-time, she heard a crunch of a step on the gravel path. Her first guess was Mr. Leife—her second, Phil. The next moment she saw emerging from the shadow of the poplars the stunted figure of Weasel John. Plucky as she was, the impulse was strong within her to run indoors and iet him knock. But she felt sure he had seen her, and pride forbade her budging. She would not even shut the door. Indeed, there would not have been time, for he quickened his move- ments and was face to face with her before she could have éarried out the maneuver. “Good evening, missy,” he began, quite politely, “is the vicar in?” “No,” answered Nell, quite emphat- ically, anxious to get rid of him. “Perhaps Mrs. Champion will see me,” he persisted; “l won't keep hera minute.” “She’s out, too—they’re all out.” “So much the better,” he growled; “the old fool will be in a rare bait. Pll leave his precious letter for the vicar, anyway. I’m not going to take any more trouble with it.” And he produced a rather mean-look- ing note, folded in a fearful and won- derful fashion. Nell recognized the laborious print- ed characters which represented Ruf- fidge’s best handwriting. “Is it important?” she asked. he want an answer in a hurry?” “Want?” returned the little man, testily; “of course he wants. To hear him you'd think it was a matter of life and death. You know there isn’t much ove lost between us”—he gave an ex- “Does pressive grin—“but he worried me so. bout that dirty bit of ' paper, I brought BY: NEUMAN. it up Gast to stop his ugly mouth. Im- portant? I should think so, indeed. Some old woman has got the stomach- ache and wants a little spiritooal com- fort in a green bottle. Silly old fool!” “He’s not a silly old fool!” said Nell, indignantly, “and uncle shall have the letter at once. Maria’s in bed, but Jenny can take it—or I will myself. Will you wait to see whether there’s any answer to go back?” “No, indeed; I’m not going to waste half an hour chewing the cud on that fool’s errand. I believe he’s only sham- ming illness and could have come him- self if he’d chosen. Relieved at his refusal, Nell made no reply, but shut the door and went in search of Jenny. She felt sure the matter must be of real importance to make Ruffidge ask a favor from a man with whom he had such a bitter feud. * CHAPTER XIV. Weasel John walked down the drive and into the road at a good pace, chuckling and rubbing his hands as though in high glee. “Lordy!” he muttered to himself, “this is prime. Maria’s not well, poor soul, so we mustn't disturb her, and there’s only the little baggage to look out for, or else Jenny. One of them will have a bit of a fright, I’m afraid, and I hope it may be missy, for she’s a plucky wench, and I sha’nt lose my temper with her. Jenny don’t like me; she says I was rude to her; I don’t kiss pretty. She'll have to look out for squalls this time.” He walked on a couple of hundred yards or so and then came to a stop under the hedge. “This will do,” he said, “if no one comes along. I'll wait a few minutes and then go and call again, when the coast’s clear. I wish I knew where that mad boy is. If he’s up there and puts his oar in, he’ll catch a crab, and no mistake.” At that very moment, had the Wea- sel only known it, the “mad boy” was watching him from the other side of the hedge, almost within hand’s reach. And the eyes of the mad boy were hard and bright as those of a hunting beast, and his lips were drawn back a little, so that the white teeth just showed, and a strange smile came and went across his ‘face from moment to. moment. For a couple of days had Phi] Ugloe stalked his quarry, timid but fierce, ready to flee, but waiting to strike, and now at last his opportunity had come. When first Broad appeared in Whayre Phil had, for some inexplica- ble reason, attached himself to the stranger, quite undeterred by the abuse and violence which rewarded his hom- age. Then had occurred the incident of which he had spoken to Nell—the killing of his lizard—a crime which had changed his devotion to hatred. After this he had avoided Weasel John as much as possible, and it was only when caught by cunning and _ con- strained by force that he was found in his company. When this was the case he showed a sullenness of temper that quickly infuriated the Weasel and led to such scenes as that in which the curate had been forced to play an ac- tive part. Later on Phil had found what he supposed to be the same lizard, and on this little animal, so miraculously restored to him, he lavished all the love and reverence of which his poor clouded nature was capable. He had tamed it and marvelously overcome its wild shyness, so that it lay contentedly in his pocket or even nestled in his breast. And now, for the second time, he had lost the little creature. Every- where he had sought for it, with an anxiety that grew to frenzy as his ef- forts proved unsuccesful. Then sud- denly a light broke upon him. Of course! it was the bad man again. Weasel John must have stolen it! As he brooded over his loss, two thoughts contended for the mastery in his confused and straitened mind. One was to recover the lizard from Broad; the other, revenge. At the same time he had the liveliest fear of the little man, for bitter experience had made him acquainted with the Weasel’s strength and agility and the malignity of his temper when aroused. For the Jastetwo days, and for a con- siderable part of the nights, too, he had stealthily kept watch over The Bilge in the hope of finding an oppor- tunity of slipping in when the Weasel was out to make a search. Btt it had seemed as though such a chance would never come. On the first night, it is true, the Weasel went out after dark, but there seemed to be a number of other men coming and going, and once a boat was launched from the beach and rowed away. What it all meant Phil had not the smallest conception; all he could grasp was that he must wait until the coast was clear. On this very evening he had watched the departure of Ruffidge and his nephews with the curate. Then, in a moment, his opportunity seemed to have come at last. He had seen Mr. Leife try the door of The Bilge without eliciting any answer, but about.a quarter of an-hour later it had opened and Weasel John had appeared pulled pase to behind him, t faving” a) .pparently Phil had watched the well-known figure as it had disappeared on the Chidley road, and he was just making his way toward the cottage—had, in fact, got as far as the garden gate— when the sound of approaching foot- steps alarmed him. He had just time to drop to the beach when he saw that it was Weasel John who had returned. Trembling in every limb, for it seem- ‘ed to him that his enemy must have seen and returned to deal with him, the lad crouched down on the shingle. He heard the door opened and a mo- ment later closed again, while the sound of footsteps on the path told him that the enemy was coming out once more. He ventured to raise his head and just caught sight of the Weasel dis- appearing in the darkness. But now he durst not try the door for fear of another disturbance. It seemed safer to follow the bad man, at least for some distance, and then, perhaps, run back and make his search. Barefoot- ed—it ‘was always a matter of diffi- culty to persuade him into shoe leath- er—he ran behind the hedges, his steps noiseless as a bird’s, and quickly caught up his quarry. The little man was hurrying along, evidently in high spirits, for his chuckles were quite audible in the prevailing silence. Every now and again he cut a caper and flung his cap high in the air, and several times he drew a flask from his pocket and set it to his lips. As the boy watched him the thought of re- venge rose in his mind. He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a sling which he had made for himself and with which he had be- come a very fair marksman. It was characteristic of him that he never used it to kill or maim any living crea- ture. This was the first time it was to be employed for su¢h a purpose. Still running noiselessly, he drew out from another pocket a rounded stone, and was adjusting it in the loop of the sling. But, though all waseready, he hesitated. He was not sure enough of his aim while the Weasel was moving so fast. The risk of fail- ure was too great. He would wait a little longer. He saw Weasel John turn in at the vicarage gate and—more cautiously than ever—he followed, in the shade of the trees that bordered the path. He saw him stand at the door and heard the parley with Nell. It was a splendid opportunity for him, but the thought that he might possibly injure the girl restrained him. It was not merely that he worshipped her beau- ty, but in some way that he could not explain even to himself he associated her with his idolized lizard. So he waited until the door was shut. Then he followed the little man down the drive and into the road, taking cover once more behind the hedge. It was hard work keeping up with him, for { the Weasel was running and leaping and chuckling, just as he had donc be- fore. At last he came to a full stop and } Phil crouched down parallel with him. A better chance he could never have. It was the thought of the lizard, with his coat of green and gold, and his little gleaming eyes, that was predom- inant in his mind as he swung the stone into the sling. Weasel John was humming to him- self his favorite stave. All at once the song ended abrupily, for the flint pebble from Phil’s sling took the minstrel just behind the right ear with such force that he dropped in- continently to the ground and lay there as one dead. CHAPTER XV. For a minute or two after his suc- cessful shot Phii stood on_ tiptoe, drawing back the bushes with one hand—suspicious, _ hesitant. Then, with infinite caution, he stepped across and stood over the prostrate body, giving it a little push with one foot. This evoking no sign of life, he ven- tured to kneel down and feel with his fingers under the thick hair. He soon discovered a great lump, al- ready as large as a filbert. At this he nodded and smiled in high glee. Then in great haste and still not without trepidation, ‘he turned out the Weasel’s pockets one by ore, leaving the knives, pistols, money and other contents on the ground. Finally he pulled ondn the shirt and felt with his hand under- neath. The moment he realized that his search was ip vain, and that the lizard was not on Broad’s person, he sprang to his feet and set off at his best speed for the cottage, pausing, how- ever, two or three times to make sure that his enemy was not in pursuit. It was a miserable night, and it seemed that not a soul was stirring; only toward the Bonnet a few lights gleamed in cottage windows. Drench- ed by the persistent drizzle, his feet cut -by stones and pierced by thorns, his mind was clear on one point. The lizard must be lying hidden in The Bilge, and there he must seek it. But the fear he felt for the master of the cottage extended to the building itself. For a moment he stood like some wild creature, alert, apprehensive, poised for flight. Then with one quick run, noiseless and stealthy, he slipped inside the gate and up the little path. Both the cottages were dark and silent as the grave. While he stood on the threshold, feeling for the latch, some- thing rubbed up against his legs and he turned to flee. But it was only Ruffidge’s cat, who, like all animals, was on the best of terms with the half-witted boy. As soon as he recognized the cause of his alarm he stooped down and, lifting her gently, put her on the other side of the fence, and then raised the latch. To his delight—still, however, tempered with fear—the door yielded at once, and closing it behind him he entered the dark and silent room, the later.) sof he had been cessful no possibility of making a proper search. At this disappointment he dropped to the floor and began to cry like a child, but in silence. Then sud- denly, in the midst of his outburst, he stopped, for his eye caught on the hearth a glimmer of a spark. Eager- ly he rose, and stooping over the grate found it. quite hot. He blew ‘gently on the spark, and soon coaxed a little blaze from the end of a charred log.. Round the hearth lay some smaller pieces of wood, warm and dry as tin- der. One of these he lighted and, using it as a torch, explored the room. It was almost bare, the only fur- niture kheing a round table and a big sea chest. There was indeed a cup- board against the partition wall, but it was locked and defied all his ef- forts to fofce it open. In the chest he found only some old clothes, the pock- ets quite empty, a couple of books, a few tools and an oil can. The small back room was absolutely bare ex- cept for a washing sink. There remained the bedroom, and he hurried upstairs, only to find the door was securely fastened. While he was trying to force his way in he heard footsteps outside. Instantly his terror of the formidable Weasel re- turned in full strength. He flew down the narrow stairs, flung his torch on the floor and, heedless of the pain, stamped his naked foot upon it. The steps grew nearer and his alarm be- came frantic. He pulled up the lid of the chest and tried to squeeze himself into it, but it was too narrow. The table had no cloth and afforded ne shelter. (To Be Continued.) STRICT ECONOMY. When Sheets and Table Cloths Were Used Interchangeably. “The strictest economy I ever saw practiced,” said the old stager, “was down in Virginia early in the war, when I was stationed as sutler on the losing side. “One of the captains and myself stayed over night with an old ‘rebel planter, and right royally he treated us, as far as he was able. You know how a Southerner is—he gives up his pride last of all, and this man was no exception. He put us in the only spare room, had a bed made up for us in a hurry, and left us to sleep the sleep of the righteous. “But about 6 in the morning we were awakened by a _ tremendous thumping at the door. I jumped up and called out: “What's the matter?’ “We recognized old Aunt Sukey’s voice when she replied: “*Ain’ you gemmen gwine to git up so Ah kin set de table?’ “Why, go ahead and set the table, auntie,’ I said. ‘We'll be up in time for breakfast.’ : “Clare to goodness, how Ah gwine se de table widout no table cloth? You all done got every sheet in the house!’ “Aunt Sukey got her sheet,” con- cluded the old timeh, “and most of my appetite went with it."—New York Times. PLUGS TO FOIL LOVEMAKING. Science Interferes With Courtship by Telephone. The Chesapeake & Potomac Tele- phone company has moved its central exchange to a new and _ permanent telephone building. The new plant is provided with a device to stop flirta- tions. Stationed in the center of the im- mense operating room the chief oper- ator can connect with any of the boards and “butt in” on all flirtations with the telephone girl. Whenever the assistant manager thinks one of the girls is exchanging sweet nothings with a subscriber, he places his receiver to his ear, puts in a plug and listens. Having convinced himself as to the transgression, he walks over to the offending girl and advises her the company can do with- out her services for a week or so. It is always suspension for the first vio- lation of the rules, and dismissal after- ward.—Washington Special to New York Times. Objected Too Soon. A celebrated barrister won a case in which he had no apparent chance by having the magistrate’s clerk put in the witness box. He made him admit that he had been in the room when the magistrate was discussing the case on trial; then suddenly he asked: “You were in the room, sir, and did you not hear the magistrate say there was not a rag of a case against my unhappy client?” The prosecuting counsel objected, and the question was ruled to be inad- missable. But the jurors had heard it, and had heard the answer stopped. The dissatisfaction thus produced in their minds made them acquit the pris- oner. After leaving the court the pros- ecuting counsel indignantly told his opponent that he should not have put the question, and that he must have known that it would not have been al- lowed. “Yes, I did,” was the answer; ‘but I knew you, too; and felf’sure that you would object at the right time. You should have waited for the answer, as it would have been ‘No.’” Why Colored Angels Lay Low. “] wish dey’d print some cullud an- gels in de story books; 1 never has seen a cullud angel, an’ it makes me think dey ain’t any in heaven!” “Oh, dey’s plenty er um dar,” said Brother Dickey, “but dey got mo’ wis- dom dan what dey had down here, an’ dey sez nuttin’ an’ lays low.” “What fer dey do dat?” “My frien,” said Brother Dickey, “wen you is a li’ older, you'll no mo. Dem trees in paradise am power- ful high, en dey got strong limbs, eq day is mighty renee 4 surprisingly suc- but in the darkness there was. RUSKIN’S KINDNESS OF HEART. Absence of Snobbishness in Character | of Great Writer. An intimate friend of Ruskin’s re- lates an incident illustrating that simplicity, gentleness and sympathy which were characteristic of his re- lations with the servants of his house- hold. “I was dining with Mr. Ruskin one evening, when during the meal, as we were enjoying a rhubarb tart, I happened to say that it was the first I had tasted that season, and re- marked how delicious it was. Mr. Ruskin manifested delight at my ap- preciation of his rhubarb, and ringing for one of the servants, he said, ‘Please tell Jackson I want him.’ When Jackson came into the room his master said: “I am very pleased to tell you, Jackson, that your first pulling of rhubarb is quite a success, and my friend here says that it is delicious.” When we had finished din- ing, a servant brought lighted candles into the room, which was almost dark, the windows being shaded by the dense, overhanging trees, although the sun had not yet gone down. After placing the candles, she was about to leave the room, when she suddenly stopped and said: ‘Please, sir, there’s a beautiful sunset sky just now over the Old Man.’ ‘Ruskin rose from his chair, and said: ‘Thank you, Kate, for telling us,’ then left the room. He returned soon. ‘Yes,’ he said to me, 4t is worth seeing. Come,’ and he led the way upstairs to his bedroom. It was a glorious sight. The sun was sinking behind the Coniston Old Man mountain, and the mist and ripples on the lake were tinged with a crim- son flush. recess without speaking a word till the sun went down behind the moun- tain.”—Harper’s Weekly. GAUGE TO MEASURE FOG. Californian Suggests How This May Be Accomplished. A correspondent of the Monthly) Weather Review living in San Diego. ; Cal., makes a suggestion that an in- strument consisting of a wire frame- work be contrived, which shall collect fog particles, conduct the drops into a rain-gauge, and thus make the meas- urement of fog possible. The object of this measurement would be to show that in such a region as southern California, where the rainfall is small and where there is a good deal of fog, the fog deposit is a considerable one, and is one of noteworthy importance to vegetation. In his comments on this suggestion Prof. Abbe rightly points out that it would be difficult, if not impossible, te argue from the catch of a fog screen to the catch of an orchard of trees; that the “fog depositor” would give no positive information as to how much the leaves and stems of plants collect, or how much of the water falls to the ground in such a way that the roots of the plants may utilize it, and that the chief benefit which deljcate plants on the California coast obtain from the fog is probably in the protection which the fogs afford against the heat of the sun. f Not Even Then. A Yorkviile police court lawyer de- fended a policeman at the police trials before Deputy Commissioner Linds- ley. The patrolman was charged with striking a roundsman with his night stick when ordered to the station house. “Why didn’t you arrest him?” asked the lawyer. “{ don’t arrest in such cases,” re- plied the roundsman. “In all cases I order the offender to the station house.” “But a weapon was used in this ease,” persisted the lawyer. “That made it a felonious assault.” “Yes, sir.” “Suppose that this defendant had drawn his revolver and shot you dead. What wouid you have done in that case?” “Nothing,” answered the rounds- man. “I would have done nothing. I would not have arrested him even then.”—New York Sun. Across the Hills. Across Nae hills The mountains rise, And kiss the raveled, blue-gowned skies; ‘The serried trees Where crimson Robe richly every ‘And Ceres sighing that her spell Has ended, waves a long farewell. Across the hills The song birds flee To Southland’s newer Arcady; robin, bluebird and the thrush e left behind the woodland’s hush prayerful times, sacred chimes echoed rhymes, Have stilled to mem Across the hills— And do we know The meaning of the splendid glow? ‘The autumn—is it understood. That all is beautiful and good? "The Master bids us be of cheer, His works in earth and sky appear Across the hills—and He is near. —Frank Bates Flanner, in the Indian apolis News. The President Would Do. While James Jeffrey Roche was having a chat with President Roose. velt in the White House last’ week, the telephone bell was ringing quite persistently. There being no attend- ant at hand: the president excused himself and went to answer the re- peated call. This is the conversation that took place on the line, according to the testimony of the distinguished gentleman at the president’s end of it: “Well, what is it?” “Hello, is Archie there?” “No, he’s not.” “Who's this I’m talking to?” “The president.” “Well, you'll do. Tell Archie to come 9ver and play ball.” And the president proceeded to execute the order, as directed.—Bos ton Herald. We sat in the window) anq said: There Is no Rochelle salts, Alum, LimeorAmmonia in food madewith Calumet Baking Powder “NOT IN THE BAKING POWDER TRUST— It makes pure food. It Was All Right. He was about to pop the question to the girl of his choice and was trying to decide how he should do it. First he thought of the knightly pro- posal, in the style.of the middle ages, “By my halidame, fair maid, say thou wilt be mine ,and the holy friar shall unite us ere another sun gilds the tur- rets of Windsor castle.” Then he considered the theatrical style: “I have long loved you in se- eret, ge-ru-r-l, and, though I am not rich, I can offer you the true and un- selfish devotion of me whole a-a-r-r-t!” He thought perhaps the easy con- versational style might do: “Weil, Alicia—I may call you ‘Alicia,’ mayn’t I?—every one thinks we are going to |be married. Ha, ha! Suppose we do get married, just to please ’em.” But after all he did something like this: “Er—Miss Alicia—er—excuse the familiarity; but—er—er—will you —er—— Oh, by Jove!” And then she came to the rescue “That'll do, Willie, dear; it’s all right ,and I know papa and mamma will be so pleased.” Best in the World. Cream, Ark., Nov. 7.—(Special.)— After eighteen months’ suffering from Epilepsy, Backache and Kidney Com- | plaint, Mr. W. H. Smith of this place is.a well man again and those who | have watched his return to health unhesitatingly give all the credit to Dodd’s Kidney Pills.. In an interview regarding his cure, Mr. Smith says: “T had been low for eighteen months with my back and kidneys and also Epilepsy. I had taken everything I knew of, and nothing seemed to do me any good till a friend of mine got me to send for Dodd’s Kidney Pills. I find that they are the greatest medi- | cine in the world, for now I am able | to work and am in fact as stout and strong as before I took sick.” Dodd’s Kidney Pills cure the Kid- neys. Cured Kidneys cleanse the plood of all impurities. Pure blood means good health. Didn’t Teach That Kind. A Michigan teacher wound up a compliment to a young schoolma’am with a good word about “the reputa- tion for teaching she bears.” The next day the young schoolma’m met the editor and chased him down the street with an umbrella, and at every jump in the road she screamed that she had never taught a she bear in her life. PILLSBURY’S BEST Takes Three Grand Prizes At the St. Louis World’s Fair. The Grand Prize for the highest gradé of flour, a Grand Prize tor the finest exhibft and a Grand Prize for the best loaf of bread. Sweet Thing. Madge—Physical culture is splen- did. I’m taking beauty exercises. Marjorie—You haven’t been taking them 10! have you? Mrs. Winslow's Soothing Syrup. For children teething, softens the gurus. ation, allays pain, cures wind colic. 2 | Probable. Little Willie—I say, pa, I'll be very glad when I get old enough to do as I please. Pa—Naturally, my son; and when you reach that age it’s probable you'll get married and not do it. ‘Write MURINE EYE REMEDY Co., Chicago, tf + your eyes are sore or inflamed, and get oculist’s Tavice and free sample MURINE. It cures alleye-Lile More Room for Me. Two little maids of four and six years, respectively, were seated on a stool. Presently the elder of the two said, reflectively: “Don’t you think that if one of us was to get up there would be more room for me?” Catarrh of the ladder: and Kidney Trouble absolutely cured by David Kennedy's Favorite Semedy. World fassous for over 30 years, _Wa bottle. All things come to those people who go after them. Piso’s Cure cannot be too highly spoken of a @ cough cure.—J. W. O’Brien, 322 Third Ave. N., Minneapolis, Minn., Jan. 6, 1900. The oftener people lose their temper the more they seem to have. tue of Ds. Kline's Pate Restore ay Far eae gr £7.20. 00 triai and treatises iphis, Pa The Japanese started early, but they did not avoid the ‘alae Ges @tbolisalve | Instantly stops the pain of Burns and Scalds. Pay ee Always basis without soars. Privo by J.W. Gated Gb. Black Hiver Falla Wis mums KEEP A GOX HANDY wasninater D.C. ENSION utes Claims. Syrein ss eet ret aoee atty since. BEGGS’ CHERRY COUGH SYRUP cures coughs and colds. JOHN W.MORKIS, _—