The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, June 9, 1895, Page 23

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, JUNE 9, 1895. They Didn’t Think. Once a trap was baited With a piece of cheese: It tickled 80 a little mouse It almost made him sneeze. Anp old rat said: * There's danges, Be careful where yon go!"” “ Nonsense!” said the other, * 1 do not think you know.” Sohe walked in boldly— Nobody in sight; First he took a nibble, Then he took a bite. Close the trap together Snapped as quick as wink, Catching mousie fast there, ’Cause he didn’t think. Once a little turkey, Foud of her own way, Wouldn’t ask the old ones Where to go or stay; Shesaid: “I'm not a baby, Here I am half-grown; Surely T am big enough To run about alone!” Off she went, but somebody Hiding saw her pass; So she made a supper For a siy young mink, ’Cause she was o headstrong That she wouldn’t think. Once there was a robin Lived outside the door, Who wanted to go inside And hop upon the floor. No. n0,” said the mother, “ You must stay with me; Little birds are safest Sitting in the tree.” “I don’t care,” said Robin, And gave his head a fling, # Y don’t think the old folks Know quite everything” Down he flew, and kitty seized him Before he'd time to blink. “Oh,” he said, “ I'm sorry, But I didn’t think.” Now my little children, Yon who read this song, Don't you see what trouble Comes of thinking wrong? And can’t you take a warning From their dreadful fate, Who began their thinking When it was too late? Don't think there's always safety Where no danger shows, Don't suppose you know more Than anybody knows; But when you're warned of ruin Pause upon the brink, And don’t go under headlong, *Cause you didn't think. PrEBE CARY. Sandpile Luxury. Perhaps only a small proportion of the City children can spend the summer days upon the sands of the seashore, though it | would seem quite reasonable if the Super- visors and other great men should stop wrangling over trifles and provide for a matter of such importance. | That question aside, it would seem that | there is no reason why the domestic sand- | pile shonld remain a luxury for children | of fortune. To be sure & city child may be kept alive without the sandpile, but with the abso- lute freedom of a sandpile every day of its life a child may actually be hagpy and as healthy as every little animal has a right greatly favored ;uungsber hés a nallow tub of water sunk into the edge of sand-world, and here he can sail his small boats, moisten his ‘‘cakes” and mortar’’ and dabble his ]omfls hands ith never a restraining *“Don’t!” or Stop!” This same happy child has a little pile of ks, and some nice smooth boards in small kingdom, or, better, his construc- tion department. And there is room in that sandpile, even when the proprietor has company, to lay out an entire ranch and to bring it to a high state of cultiva- tion. Avenues of waving twigs, orchards that bear no fruit, pastures that unruly_live- stock can be barred up in, houses, barns and haystacks, all are arranged by the busy hands that call all labor play when it is not compulsory and shows results. It is a pity, indeed, that any child should not know waving trees, singing birds, green fields, gay blossoms, all the dear delights of the world that God has made. ut to limit the child’s pleasures to the contemplation of the paving-stones, the gazing from the window at the sordid and frivolous passers-by, is cruel and mur- | derous, no matter if the little one is cos- tumed like Little Lord Fauntleroy and ‘“‘taken care of”” to the utter ruin of his mental, moral and physical nature. Out-of-Door Children. The little ones which grow up to be the sort of men and women the world is kinder to than to others—because the world has most need of them—may be grouped under the head of ‘‘out-of-door children.” They are not the “pale and ailing,’’ engrossed with little pains aud aches, and prone to drugs and liniments. The medicine they et is a germ-nent daily feature of their ives; and if it were possible to find it bot- A Serious Situation. [From a photograph by the Elite.] tled, the labels would read, “Sunshine” and “Fresh Air.” Morality is, to an extent, a_matier of habit, we are told—a good habit, sure enough. Pbgsical well-being is due to a matter of habit. At least it depends upon the habits for its degree and quality. “Why doesn’t your little one go out m?;ev?’n I don’t know,” replies the “We! lon' s t.houghdeu mother, “I've got into the habit of letting him play about the house; .lmib then g:e d%e- stn,«;.,h ruin wit 1: clothes when he goes ou 'pnrentbwill u:;l;lly pl::d little boduf: cause for constraining the the lmbe;!nthy influence of llmoathnbi{lnl indoor living. Think of allowing the matterof soiled clothing and a few freckles to interfere with the God-intended privilege to enjoy the breezes of heaven and the sunshine. But this isn’t what I started to write. There are many parents so situated that they tind_little opportunity for their chil- dren to play out the house, on account of environment. The {I-l’d is very small, and in it is no growth of . In winter it is piled high with snow, snd in summer lies parched and dusty in dry | weather, and soaked and muddy in wet spells. Small encouragement for turning out boys and firls into such pent-up, neglected ground. nd what would make it different? That’s the question to put and answer, rather than turn away from all possibility in this connection. Don’t you know that a ditch a foot deep about the edges, filled with good loam—a single load—would transform the atmospherei_v walls of living reen if you would but gllnt vines? The op vine, for instance, always hardy and refreshing in its rich color, is now culti- vated and offered by the seed-houses in mammoth size and beauty. The land can | A W N Not Emancipated From Skirts. be easily drained so as to insure dryness at all seasons; a limited area can even be roughly floored besides. Really, a shelter of planed, painted boards "isn’t an expensive thing in most localities, and, incomplete though it may be, it serves to bring the little people out into the air, where they belong as much as do butterflies and birds, or any of the myriad kinds of delicate animals which live to thank their Creator. The warmth and latent life of spring is mamma they would go to see Mrs. Somebody’s house to-morrow when it was her day. ‘Would you like for to be educated, Dolly? My mamma says pretty soon I are got to be educated real hard, an’ I wish I could know if it hurts. My mamma is going to haveit done to me, 'cause why, she learned lots *bout little girls to the woman’s con- gress. An’ my papa says when he went to that place he learned a great deal much of | things ’bout mammas an’ a good deal of | things about papas what aint so. I've been takin’ ’air of you most all day, dolly. I'm mostly tired to death, so you can stay with your own self now. Iam goin’ over to Jack’s barn an’ climb up on the roof an’ jump off till I get rested again. Don’t you cry! Books About Children. Stevenson set the fashion of literary in- terest in the child’s psychology, and books about children, as distinct from children’s books, are now a delightful nook of litera- | ture. This child’s garden seems chiefly to be cultivated by ladies, like Mrs. Deland | and Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. It wasa charming fragment of auntobiography | that the latter published in *“The One I | Knew the Best of AlL” We elders have | forgotten our own childish troubles; child- | hood looms as the happiest time of our ex- | istence; we have lost touch of its imagina- tive terrors. Mrs. Burnett suffered ago- nies as a child because she was told s%qe would be prosecuted and clapped into | prison if she walked on_the grass in the public gardens: the fear of inadver- tently treading on that grass haunted her like a nightmare, and filled her dreams with horrid visions of her forgetful foot grazing a blade of grass. She made friends with the local policeman, and as she sat on the bench he hovered over her in genial majesty, unbending even to conversation point. One day she plucked up courage to ask him if he would arrest her, his little friend, should she trespass on the grass. He replied, “Why, certainly.” Duty was duty. She then vointed out to him beseechingly that the bench on which she sat abuited on the grass, and that there was ample room be- tween the top rail and the backless seat for her diminutive body to fall accident- ally backward upon the sacred precinct. Would he bave to arrest her even then? Never dreaming of the profound anxiety underlying the poor little girl’s query, the jocose policeman assured her that he would have no option. And the child went home to suffer new terrors at the thought ofaccidentsally toppling backward from the seat on which her unsuspecting nurse was wont to deposit her. gimihr childish apprehensions are recorded in Isabel Fry’s “Uninitiated,” a little book as charming as it is veracious. Very quaint are the child’s thoughtsin ‘“A Discovery in Morals’’—the governess-ridden infant pray- ing that God will leave off takingcare of her for just one minute. In “The Emu and Home of Rest,” the child, fresh to all impressions of the uni- verse, notices every feature of the way tl:rouzh which she walks with a minute- ness that is only attained by us adults when we are losc in a fog and grope our way along inch by inch. A Russian nov- elist could scarcely better this: ‘‘Nurse steered her course fora walk which led us into a most melancholy region. The firstc{)art of it, however, I did not much mind; the street was lively, the houses and shops were quiet and comfortable looking. S On the left hand side of the road was a featureless yellow brick wall, from above whichrose a steep turf bank. It | looked like a grass mound of some gigantic | grave, and there was no comfort in know- | ing it 'was called a ‘reservoir.’ On the op- | positeside were quaint little white plastered houses for a space, leading immediately to a foreign looking building much bedaubed | with granular stucco, over which presided | a wretched!y executed stone figure of St. | Aloysius, as was _notified above in large | letters. Just beyond the reservoir | on the left a marrow lane went, steeply | down behind a block of buildings, which | probably contained some of the machinery 1 P i i AMATEUR YAOCHTSMEN. inspiration to growths of any kind, and the parents who love their children will see to it that they get justas much of all the glorious vitality “Iying round loose” at this season, wu!ti.u%to be absorbed and utilized to the end of better living and bet- ter lives, as is in any way possible. The possibility is what X would here empha- size. All things are possible—to love.— Babyhood. Dorothy and Dolly. My really mamma has all all goned out calling, dolly, with all her bestest clothes on. She said it was such a beautiful day that not much womans that she is acquainted of would be at home, so she’d just hafto 2o, if shecould or if she conldn’t. One day I keeped still in the parlor when some womans come to see my mamma, an’ when they sat down they said My, aint that too bad she’s at home?”’ Then they telled about their new dresses would get wrinkles all mashted into them, an’ they could go to half 'nuff places if peoples didn’t stop being at home. But anyway when x:g' really mamma comed down she looked so pretty an’ good they gid they was so glad she happunged to be ere. An’ then one womans said: * Wait till I tell a little story. You know we got ac- uainted of Mrs. SBomebody, what thinks she can pit on style ’cause her is awfly rich. She said for us to come an’ see her real soon, an’ to mever mind her day, ’cause that didn’t make no diffrence.’ Anybody must be awfly rich what can buy a day just for their ownselves, don’t you think so. dolly dear? I s’pose queens an’ kings can buy a whole year, an’ maybe they can buz a whole bumble of years. Anyway those nother womans ‘said they called at the lady’s house what was so rich she had a day all for her own self, an’ a big man at the door said it didn’t be Mrs. Somebody’s day. Then they telled him to no matter, an’ please to carry up their littie bit o’ s. An’ then they waited in the hall, an’ pretty soon they heard some silky skirts comin’ an’ comin’ ownstairs, an’ Mrs. Somebody ed straight along with all her cloes an’ thin, onto her, an’ she jest pertended she didn’t see nobody, an’ walked out doors, 'cause why, it wasn’t herday. If Elsie Green wouldn’t play with us when we went over to her house us :oulrdn’t go no more, would we, dolly ear But then, ladies is awful different, an’ knows lots of things what little girls an’ dollies an’ dogs can understand when they is older an’wear corsets an’ to curl their hairs with something hot ’stead of just onl; itonto somebody nelse’s ku‘:.'"(bnn 08¢ WOmans uylled my for pumping water into the tanks. All I certainly know about them is, that some- times when we had passed by we heard sounds like colossal panting, which seemed to fill the air rather than to come from any one place. The thud was barely out of hearing when we came upon the viaduct, which was really the chief element in m: dislikes for the road. As we stood upon ig, and looked through the openings in the stone balustrade, we could see ever so far below us another road. Along it passed manure carts, brick carts and funerals. ‘“Mingled with these hateful sights was the poisonous breath of the distant brick fields,”—T. Zangwill, in Pall Mall Maga- zine. Philosophy of Babyland. Sammy came home from an afternoon 2t the Natural History Museum. “Where have you been ?” said his grand- pa, who saw that he was in uncommonly good spirits. ‘‘Oh, we've had a splendid time. We've been to a dead circus.”—The Queens- lander, Australia. “There, mamma,” said the small boy as he gazed at the dromedary, “that must be the camel that had the last straw puton his back.””—Washington Star. Teacher—Emma, what do you know of the orchid family ? Emma—If you please, madam, mamma has forbidden us to indulge in family gossip.—Fliegende Blatter. His mother was making sandwiches with deviled ham. The little fellow came along and regarded earnestly the picture of the imp upon the can, “Mamma, what is that stuff?" “This? Oh, this is deviled ham.” The boy looked seriously at the mix- ture, and then inquired in'an awed voice, “Why, mamma, have they killed him ?""— Table Talk. A little Buffalo girl was not feeling well, and her parents suggested that she might be goinsito have chickenpox, then preva- lent. e went to bed laughing at the idea, but early next morning she appeared in her nts’ room looking very serious and said, “Yes, it is chickenpox, papa. I found a feather in the bed.”—Babyhood. A small boy on Third street_had some difficulty with a neighbor’s children dur- ing the afternoen, and at bed time he was not feeling in a very Christian spirit. ‘When his mother came in to tuck him up snugly, “Did you say your prayers?’ she inquired. ‘Yes'm.” 'And did you pray for the heathen?” The boy was slow to answer. “Yes’m, Idid,” he said at last; “all of them except them that lives next door,”—Detroit Free Press. FAMILY CARES. On a still hunt after a quail’s nest the other day among a lot of brush where I knew one was secreled I came upon a pretty sight. On a drooping eucalyptus branch, in plain sight from where, field- glass in hand, I was crouched beside a tangle of southernwood, were two tiny song-sparrows. They had evidently just come off the nest and were much agitated over this their first outlook upon the world. They were pretty birdlings, striped brown and white, like their anxious mamma, who hovered about them in a great twitter. When she saw me she was visibly agi- tated and set up a peculiar cry, which I took tobea call for her mate. He, however, did not appear, & circumstance at which I wondered greatly, for in well-regulated ornithological circles this is of all times papa’s time for making himself useful. He may or may not provide for his spouse [ovis oF THE JFIELD. BY A NATURALIST AT LARGE. sel which he thrust into the robin’s wide- cpen bill. He himself, in doing so, nearly disappeared down that capacious maw. could not see what he brought, but it was evident that the mouthful had made no impression upon robin. It waslost before it got down his throat. The little wren was in perplexity so evident and so human that I would not have been surprised to see him scratch his head over the problem. He perked his head to one side and studied the situation gravely. Evidently what was a dinner for a young wren was qaite lost upon a robin. Then he flew away again. This time he was longer gone, but when he returned, Eureka! He borein his bill & good sized worm! 1t wasa real tug for him, but he popped it down that big mouth and was off again in a flash. For over an hour the gallant little chap worked over that robin, and never left the baby until he had coaxed it up into a tree. I do not know what better a human philanthropist could have done by a poor little orphan. The real wonder is that not so many but so few tragedies occur in the bird world. If they did not exercise much more than human caution and ingenuity Fy Sfas ol during her long and tedious days of brood- ing, but when the children appear and she steps off the nest his piaytime is over and be must bestir himself to feed those gaping mouths. The cock-sparrow is, moreover, al- though always a domestic tyrant,an excel- lent provider, as a rule, so I wondered all the more that the head of this particular house should absent himself at this most critical and interesting time. But the lit- tle hen evidently did not expect him. She was really calling to her babies, who clung for dear life to their twig and seemed afraid to stir. She fluttered oyer them, calling and encouraging them, all the time kee ing an eye upon me, and was manifestly trying to coax them to another branch a liftle further off. But the birdlings were afraid. The world was big—the branch was a long way off—they did not believe the queer crea- ture down on the ground was going to hurt them—at any rate they couldn’t help it if they died for it. And they lifted up their voices and wept, making the early morning air vociferous with their clamor- ing. Still mamma was determined, and gently approaching the one who was shrieking the loudest she gave him a soft little boost with her bill that tumbled him from his perch. He spread his wings and scxnmblege desperately in the air. I expect he thought his last moment had come. But the little mother was close beside him with an encouraging chirp, and an instant later he was on the further branch. Then his cry of dismay chanigd to one of tri- umph. He stretched his little neck as though to be quite sure it was safe and then he set up a howl! to be fed. Poor Mother Bunch was at her wits’ ends. She wanted to reward one youngster for his effort, but there was the other, alone on the lower branch and wail inr% dolefully. Why did not that father bird come and attend to his business? Was it election day in Sparrowland? Had he gone fish- ing, or was he only loafing around the corner? I watched for two hours, but he never came, and I fear he had met with some tragic fate. Perhaps he had been gone for some time—the bereaved mate did not seem to be looking for hiscoming. All her energies were now bent toward coax- ing that other baby to join his brother, nngd finally, with a last little squeak he fluttered his wings and made quite a re- spectable flight to the upper bough. Then tfifi mother flew awa§ and they settled fiwd abies, and devoted the time in her absence to preening their ruffiled plumage. Then they snuggled close together with many little chirps, ex- pressive, 1 haven’t a doubt, of their poor opinion of the world in general and of me in particular, who bad caused them so much unnecessary exertion. When their mother returned they at once renewed their clamor until both were appeased by the administration of something, I could not see what, from the mother's bill to their gaping mouths. 3 How that little sparrow did work. Seven- teen times in one half hour did sheleave the tree and return, each time bringing some- thing for one or the other of those shriek- ing birdlings. She looked as though she were having a hard time of it. The feath- ers were gone from the top of her head and her tail was draggled and broken. She had no time to make her toilet—she must be father and mother at once to those young- sters, who, save for g tails, were every bit as big as she. Ido not know when I have felt more genuine sympathy for any small creature. Shedid seem such a “widow, indeed.” 7 A baby bird in trouble is a spectacle cal- culated {o wring the hardest heart. Some time ago Isawa gom:f robin that had fallen to the ground and lay in the grass crying pitifully. The parent birds were nowhere about—the wind was quite strong ly the baby had been blown Qi istance. While I was wondering how 1 could help the youngters a tiny wren came hoppingalong. He nogpqd opposite the robin and contemplated him, appar- ently in the greatestsurprise. I wanc%a;i to see what was coming. The robin was quite as large again as the wren, who 100ked a mere morsel beside the shrieking infant. Finally Troglodytus rushed away, only down. They were to return an instant later with a tiny mor- | sional MR D THEIR FIRST LOOK AT THE WORLD. \ X (] LR 1 i Y Qg i A\l\ m choosing locations for their nests the loss of lifeamong them would be greater than it is. There is something more than mere instinct brought to bear, by birds, upon the problem of nest-building. Two or three days ago I watched a pair of wrens reconnoitering about a bird-bex in a tree. There were four apartments in the little tenement—two above and two below. The little cock evidently preferred one of the upper chambers. Perhaps the view up there pleased him better. is mate, how- ever, had just as evidently cast her vote for a lower berth. The pair stood on the upper sill and gazed long and intently into the little room. Then they flew to the lowersill and repeated the performance. Then the head of the house flew away, and returned with a little stick which he car- ried upstairs. Clearly the mistress would none of that. She hauled that stick out and stowed it away below. He flew to a nearby twig, where he perched, and scolded for a long time, but she paid absolutely noattention to him and continued to bring sticks, which she built into a nest in one of the lower compartments. After watching and scold- ing for some time he finally gave in, and when I came away they were both con- tentedlg carrying in sticks on the lower floor. dor compels me to state that the little hen showed the superior wisdom. The lower rooms were far more sheltered thau the upper ones. They have worked industriously, and now, from where I sit writing, I can see the masterof the house sitting on a little branch beside his door, siniing to his lady, who is doubtless within. While I sat watching the efforts of the widowed sparrow to bring up her family in a creditable manner my attention was attracted to the Fner!ormsnoe of a number of house-finches in an adjacent tree. One— a female—was perched %metly on & branch watching two males just below her. These were evidently belligerents. They lay flat along a limb, about three feet apart, glar- ing savagely at each other. Their brilliant crimson caps and throats shone in the sun- light, and they bore a startling resemblance to two serpents. On still another branch & fourtn finch sat, also an interested spec- tator. After several feints the two combatants finally rushed at sach other, and, rising in the air, fought viciously for some littla time, Their struggles took them quite a distance from the tree, and no sooner were they gone than the third finch approached the'little hen, He bowed and dipped and flew about her in a most engaging manner, and it was guiu evident that the fickle jade regarded him with a favoring eye. She edged off a little, flew to a higher branch and watched, but did not repel his advances. He hopped quite close to her, and they finally flew away together. They were_scarcely out of sight when the con- quering hero returned, flushed with tri- umph; but his lady fair had flown. He seemed unable to believe his eyes. He hopped from twig to twig, darted back and forth about the tree, and from a Erojecvjn branch called loud and long. Then he sat for a long time, dejectedly huddled in a little feathery heap, probably musing on the uncertainty feminine nature, and finally flew off.” I wonder if he consoled himself with the good old adage about the ‘other fish in the sea.” They are very human, these small kin of ours. Just now they are in the height of their nesting season and any day in the week a bird household would be justitied in hanging out the sign, “This is our busy day.” ok out when I will, the airis thronged with the rushing toilers, ai‘!‘iing fromr d to trees, from the trees b: to the fields. There are many mouths to feed, 2nd bringing bugs and worms, one by one, is slow work. pair of buntings that 1 watched the other @ay had struck a bonanza. I do not know where their nest was, but they had found a worm’s nest in a live-oak tree and the pair made a dozen journeys or so apiece to and from that tree while & sat watching a humming bird whose nest 1 suspected to be near by. Each trip meant death to at least one worm. Our little friends are a sore trial just at resent to fruit-growers, but they have per- lormed yeoman ice in keeping the trees free from insects and doubtless consider that they have earned the right to an occa- erry. DRY GOODS. Wavter Baxer&Qo. Special and [mportant Notice, @ In view of the many ims- . & tations of the Labels and . Wrappers of our va- Jrious preparations of Chocolate and Cocwa which have recently appeared in different parts of the country, | we would caution con- sumers that, in order to make sure of secur- ing the genuine articles manufactured by us, they must asz particularly Jor and see that they are supplied only with those bearing on each package the name of Walter Baker & Co., or W. Baker & Co., Dorchester, Iass. NONE OTHERS GENUINE. HAVE. EVERYTHING NEEDED FOR CAMPING OR TRAVELING Shawl Straps.... Lesather Club Bags. Gladstone Traveling Bags. fshoulder Bags. Twine Bags... 25 ‘Tourist Knlte and Fork Setsin Fall Variety. Pocket Flasks. 75 25 10 per dozen Paper Napkins, 15 per §100 05 Tin Cups. Coftee Pots. 10 Tin Flasks. 10 15 60 Knives and Forks. 05 each Teaspoons. . 10 perdozen Tablespoons. 25 per dozen Corkscrews.. 10 each Straw or Canvas Hat: 26 ....... 50 10 10 per dozen 10 per 100 Telescope Baskets. 15 Splint Baskets. . 05 Fine Mexican Grass Hammocks.. 1 00 7% 25 75 Electrical Construction and Repairing of All Kinds. Kstimates Given. Special attention given to Sporting Goods and Barber Supplies. Razors, Shears and Knives ground and repaired. 818-820 Market Street Phelan Building. Factory—30 First Street. FURNITURE 4 R$Ogg)1'ls Parlor—Silk Brocatelle, 5-plece sult, plush trimmed. Bedroom—7-plece Solid Oak Sult, French Bevel- plate Glass, ureau, washstand. twochairs. Tocker and tablé; pillows, woven-wire and top mattress. Dining-Room-—Gfoot Extension Table, four Soli 5. Oak Chalrs Kitchen—No. 7 Range, Patent Kitchen Table EASY PAYMENTS. 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OUR OWN MAKE. LADIES' FINE TAN KID TTON, Latest Style, Razor Toes, Fointe , and New Style Narrow Square Toes, width: A o EE, $2.50 per Pair. OUR OWN MAKE. LADIES’ FINE TAN KID BUTTON, SPRING HEELS, New Style, Square Toes and Diamoud- shaped Tips, widths AA to $2.50 per Pair. Ladies’ Tan Kid an;I flck Kid Oxford Ties, Pointed and Nquare Toes. 75¢, $1 and $1 25 per Pair, Same as above with Black or Tan Cloth Tops, latest style razor toes, pointed toes, DAITOw square toes and hand-turn soles, $1.50, $1.75, $2 and $2.50 per Pair. LADIES’ TAN AND BLACK SOUTHERN TIES, Latest style razor toes, pointed toes and narrow Bquare toes, diamond-shaped toes, hand-tarn soles, $1.50, 82 and §2.50 per pair. Extra fine quality TAN CROME KID, $3 per Pair. MEN’S TAN SHOES. Men’s Man-colored lace shoo Men’s Tan Russia calf lac year sewed welts, latest style (oes. ......... Men's extra fine imported Tan Russia calt welted soles, latest yie shoes, hand-sewed style razor toes, pointed toesand new st, DArTOW square Yale toes Y‘ou have nothing to lese and all to ain. ‘lf our SHOES are not as represented return them and we will cheerfnlly re~ fund the money. Largest Store and by Far the Largest Stock to Select From. ‘When you can’t et fitted elsewhere, al- ways goto ‘“Nolan " and get fitfed there. £ Mail Orders filled by return ex- press. NULAN BROS. SHOE COMPANY, PHELAN BUILDING, 812-814 Market St. TELEPEONE 5527. A-LAROCHE | FRENCH NATIONAL PRIZE of 16,690 Francs ~— THE GREAT French Tonic ~— Your druggist must have it—if not, send pame aad 55 to E. FOUGERA & CO. 26-28 N. William St. New York. g 5! r-“m UIN Q Any Man Who Suffers . Orisfust beginning to suffer from the :TRTAL': weakening effects of emissions or BOTT. ver-indulgence can be permanently i FREE. : cured by taking VITAL RESTORA~ . TIVE. Call or write for SAMPLE BOTTLE. The worst cases cured. Address DR. COOPER, 523 Kearny st., San Francisco. All Private Diseases Cured. When ordering please mention “Call.” GRANITE MONUMENTS Marpmacoms + JONES BROS. &C0., Cor. Second and Brannan Sts., §. F. B Superior to ALL OTHEERS and the latest de- signs. Strictly wholesale. Can be purchased hrough any Ketall Dealer. BORAXAID 50 TIMES A YEAR comes the inevitable weekly clothes washing. ing. 1000 TIMES A YEAR comes the perpetual tri-daily dish wash= No help for the weary washer, until—The Pacific Coast Borax Co. lends its 20-Mule Death Valley Borax Team, to make this heavy work light and easy. BORAXAID, their New Washing Powder, is just the right com= bination of Soap and Borax to soften water, loosen dirt, heal the hands and save the clothing. For sale everywhere.