He is now Cured, and He Thanks God and P. P. P., Lippman’s Guest Rem- edy, For It. Mr. George Briggs, of Moore, Okla, suffered almost indescribable torment for three long years. N euraloua held him captive. The right side of his face , was so badly affected that the slightest touch would cause the unfortunate man intense agony. For several weeks he could open his mouth just wide enough to be fed with liquid nourish: ment, and 1n this manner life was sus-_ tained. Read the following extract from his letter: “Truth is stranger than Fiction.” NEURALGIA, CATARRH AND RHEUMA- TISM COMPLETELY CURED. George Brig gs, of Moore, Oklahoma, writes that P. P. P., Lippman’ s Great Remedy, cured him of catarrh, facial neuralgia and rheumatism, after three » years of intense suffering. The pain lay in his cheek bone and temple, down the right side of his face, along his upper lip, and from the slightes utouch he suffered agonies for weeks at a time. Could only open his mouth wide enough to admit a teaspoon, and any acid in his food would put him in torture. He had a consultation of the best physi- cians in Texas, but all to no purpose. Catarrh and rheumatism were also causing him much trouble, until he tried P. P P. He says he is well and will swear that the1e are no cases of neuralgia, catarrh and rheumatism, no matter how chronic or how old the cases are, that P. P. P. will not make a. total cure of. M1. Briggs winds up his testimony by saying he thanks God and 0m med- icine, P. P. P. , Lippmans Great Rem- edy, for the great cure. Kidney troubles, if neglected bring about serious and. painful and very often fatal results. P. P. P removes the irregularities, and cures the dis- eased parts. Dyspepsia and indigestion, skin and blood diseases, can be speedily removed by P. P. P., Lippman’s Great Remedy. Ladies, take P. P. P. and rid your face of pimples, blotches, freckles. yellow or muddy skin, wrinkles and vulgar redness. Sold by all drugglsts. LIPPMAN 31205., Afieuries, Sole Prop’rs, Lippman’s Block, Savannah, (is. vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv the danger is in the AAAAA AAAAA www neglect—'— HALE’S that’s Why HONEY so many E OF colds HUHEHUUNE lead to 21 AND fatal disease. TAR Hale’ 5 Honey of Horehound and Tar is made for throat and lung troubles. It acts like magic. Sold by druggists. V'V'Vvvvvvv'vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv‘vvvvvvv'vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv AAAAAAA annnai Pike’ sToothache Drops cure in one minute. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA . Special. to Readers of This Paper. TE > Send this “ad. ’ and ‘0 cents in stamps and we will mail y ou 14111.0! will FAMILY TEAS on receipt of this "ad. " and $2. 00. All charges paid. THE GREAT AMERICAN TBA 60., 31 and 33 Vesey St., N. Y., P. O. Box 289. ~ DAVID W. RAYMOND ”Funeral Directors. and 111111111 39 Washington Street ’South Norwalk Residence . Mahackemo Hotel Horace E. Darin. EXCELSIOL Liverv and Sales Stable uwww unvu W‘K Opposite Danbnry ,and ' Norwaik Railroad depot Norwalk. Oonn. Stylish Single or Double Teams with or without drivers Safe horses for women andchildren. j‘ADDLE HORSES A specmu v Piano Lessons. WES. GEORGE W DBRADLEY. (daughter of the late Wm.” .u. Nash ) gives effluent and satisfactory instructions on the Piano :1 her home No.19?! Main atreat. J. D.' Jennings. 'UNDERTAKFR Opposite Street. Railway Depot. NIGHT BELL AT OFFICE. "a A MAN OF GENIUS. Captain John Walker sat alone in his quarters, reading a tremblingly scrawled [note that sent old memories surging thickly through his brain and dimmed for an instant the gleam of his fearless blue! eyes, and caused his strong teeth to close more fiercely on the stem of his briar wood pipe. “My dea1 old J sick The thought has come upon me—now, as I lie here, with the night swiftly coming on—that I must w1ite to you—that I must see you. If you will come to me—if you will look with those dear, honest eyes into mine—if you will hold my hand, and tell me that you have learned to forget and forgive all the muddle—all the dreams; if you will whisper that you have learned to pity the d1eamer, I think I can be happy even now. But you must not think that I love him the less; it is never that. I want you both to be friends; and I want to talk to you, for the last time. It' cannot matter now, dear Jack, I am dying. Will you come?—Eva.” Captain John Walker crushed the note in his hand, and sprang up, with a sob smothered" in his throat. “Dying!———Eva dying! my little Eva! And she wants to see me. I wonder where that mooncy idiot of a husband is; writing more of those eternal lyrics, that will never be published, save by the medium of obscure sub- scription. It’s a-lucky thing the fel- low had money of his own, or they would have starved long since. Dying! It’s too awful—it’s—'Hére, Childcrs, get my things together; I’m going out of town. And look out for the next train —an-d ask Lieutenant North to see me at once—and hurry up.” The man of war had taken up a lost and broken thread of seven years back, merely to find that it .ravelled out in his fingers after all, and left his eager hands empty. For he had come to the woman as her tired eyes were closing on the great mystery men call life. He had stood, silent and baffled, and helpless beside the one woman who had ever brought any softer rays of beauty into his stern life—had stood there, in awe and despair of that relent- less, unseen power which was slowly creeping in to snatch her from him. And, when the end had come, and he had loosened her fingers from his own, and had kissed the calm lips that never more should breathe his name, and had staggered from the room, Captain John W'alker treasured in his heart the remembrance of a pair of wistful, dying eyes—some half-dozen broken sentences—and added them to the memories of seven long yea-rs be- fore, and was grateful. But now, he stood in another room. looking out moodily through the long French windows, at an old-world gar- den—thinking, perchance, of how often that dainty figure now so still in the darkened upper room, had fiitted through it during the seven years that were gone. The afternoon sunlight streamed in full upon him as he stood there, while on the further side of the room, in- the shadow, there paced rest- lessly to and fro, with hands clasped behind his back, and head bent, the figure of the husband—Maitland Kearsley. A tall, thin man, with stooping shoul- ders, and long hair falling untidily upon the collar of his velvet coat; a man who had doubtless at one time been handsome. Even now his fea- tures were fine, and regular; but their expression was marred by a look of peevish ill-humor that had furrowed the high forehead, and ‘left deep inden- tations about the rather large month. When he spoke—as he did now, with- out stopping in his restless movement to and fro—his voice was high and rasping, with a peculiarly irritating drawl in his tones. The captain turned his head slow- ly, with raised eyebrows, and looked at theltall figure pacing to and fro; not without some contemptuous won- derment. He had turned his head again and was looking moodily out of the window when Ithe'door was sud- denly thrust open, and a childish voice broke the silence of the room. “I will know—I will know!” the voice passionately. “No one will tell me; they only shake their heads and cry and turn away. And,l1er door is locked, and they will not let me in, and she does not hear me when I call ‘0 her. Father, what have they done vith her?” The captain turned and saw a tuidy, velvet- clad boy—a mere child 5f some six years—standing in the middle of the room. There was a des- 1erate earnestness about the little fig- 11-0, and yet, withal, a. sense of timid 'eluctance, as though he stood in some place to which he was denied, ..hat touched the man of war. rThere was something else, too, that touched him and startled him even. more than that. It was in the childish face. iiushed and tear-stained and eager; it was so like that other face that the un- seen power had touched, and claimed, and stilled forever—so like, and yet so unlike. The fair hair was massed about his face in the same picturesque cou- Eusion; the same ‘dark eyes were here. Only his face was young and fresh, and hopeful; the other, as-the captain had seen it last, might have been all these in- some for off time, but had been then but a shadowy picture, fast dimming. Probably the captain remembered only the far-off time. Maitland Kearsley stopped in his walk and faced the boy petuluntly. stamping his foo-t like an irritable :liild. _ “You little barbarian!” he burst :ut; ,. “11.0w daresyou come in here? 40 away at once, sir! I’ll have‘ you aeut away to school. ' “I won’t go away,” ‘l’ll stop here until you tellmc where momma is. She was always lonely -trick—I know it- was. cried, wrote a curt note, , have, said the child. . when 'I was away from her. They sent me away this morning; it was a I won’t go un- til you tell me.” The captain was about to speak, when Kearsley, with a harsh cry, caught up a stick that stood in a cor- ner and rushed at the child. The lit- tle fellow did not move, but the cap- tain sprang forward and caught the father’s uprnised arm and twisted the stick from his grasp and sent the poet reeling backward some paces. “W’hat are you doing, man?” he cried hotly, flinging the stick from him. “Would you beat .a. child like that. "” “Yes, I would,” almost sna1led the othei. “I have told him a. thousand times over not to enter this room. I will not be disturbed at any time. “You discard all else—even your dead wife’s boy?” said the captain slowly. “And behave like a wild beast to him when he comes to you in his loneliness and misery.” “What of that?” exclaimed the oth- er, pacing the room. “I tell you, sir, that I owe a duty to posterity—my art, my poetry “You owe a duty to her child, man!” cried the captain angrily. “Your poet- ry! Good God, man—have you lived with the Muses so long and never learned the sanctity, the beauty, the poesy of the soul of a little child?” Mr. Maitland Kearsley was stag- gered. He paused in his restless walk- ing to and fro, and faced the soldier somewhat sullenly. “I have yet to learn that you have the right to teach me my duty, sir,” he said. “What do you want?” . \Vith a sudden? resolve in his heart Captain John Walker faced the other. “I want you to let me take the boy with mic—now, at once—for a holiday. A house of death. is no place for 'him; let him go away with me, and forget. He’s a their little chap—I like him— and”—this with something of an ef- fort—“I suppose he is rather trouble- some to you at times.” ‘ “It seems quite extraordinary—I— suppose it’s very good of you—I don’t quite understand. But, yes—yes—take him if you like, by means; I should send him away, in any case. Take him away, certainly.” He glanced at his writing table and moved toward it. “I—I am busy—very busy. Many new and delightful thoughts are surging in upon me. Yes—take him away.” The captain had put his arm about the child, and had bent to him, with a whispeied w01d, and he now silently diew the boy from the room, the child- 1le eyes, so like those other eyes, look- ing up at him trustingly. With that day began a new life for Captain John Valker—a life that had as its guiding force the child of his dead love. The boy and the man were inseparable; the boy absolutely hap- py with one who understood and loved him; the man a warmer-hearted, more charitable being for the thought of the sunny-faced, merry-eyed boy who clung to him. The father was a for- gotten quantity. The child was taught to swim, to ride, "to be absolutely fear- less—and to obey the captain’s own strict code of duty. “Understand, Jack," the captain had said, with a grave finger upraised, “if ever I find that you have done a mean or cruel action, or ever allow any one to lick you without fighting until you couldn’t stand, or ever funked any- ,thing, or ever told a. lie, or ever brag- ged, or been anything but a gen-tle- man, I’ll send you back to your father. That will. be the only place for'you.” The warning was scarcely needed; the boy was all even the honest sol- dier could have desired. But, in course of time, Mr. Maitland Kearsley came to have a curious feeling in» regard to his absent ofisprilng. It was not love. He had no real affection for the boy; it was rather an indefinite feeling of wounded vanity—a petulant surprise that the boy should have no wish to return to him. “I do not believe in. afiectiovn,” he murmured to himself once. “All-ab- sorbing passion, that sweeps a man’s soul with it, is another thing—a wor- shipful quantity. The domestic af- fection-s are made up of a mundane de- sire for creature comforts and suste- nance, for the most part, assisted by a mistaken sense of duty. But I hoped that the child would have been drawn by the intellectual side of my char- acter, and would have becomea spe- cies of disciplg: to me. I am surprised that he should cling to that'terribly . brusque, commonplace soldier.” His thoughts found expression in a letter, suggesting to the captain that the boy’s holiday had been sufficiently prolonged, and asking that he should be sent home. tain John Walker consulted his solici- tor, laying before him the whole story. There was, of course, but one answer; the child must be given up. The cap: tain impatiently told the man of law that he was an ass and strode out of the office. But he, nevertheless, informing Mr. Maitland Kearsley that he would bring the boy down on. a certain day; he felt that there was nothing else to be done. So it happened that on the very day in question Captain John Walker stood in the poet’s house, with a very white face, and with the child clinging to him, while the poet stood, watching the pair, with something of a triumphant smile about the corners of his mouth. , “In obedience to you-r request, Kears- ley, I have brought the boy back again. I will not say anything ‘of my own feelings in the matter; I have learned to love him very dearly, that is outside the question; you of course, the right.” He stoop-ed and kissed the bright hair of the boy who clung ‘to him. “Jack—g0 to your father, my boy.” The 'boy glanced up at himvfor a mo- ment, and. then with quiyering lips, isn't-.111 Kearslcy. But. walked“ Slowly In his simplicity, Cap-- but- 1 proved successful; TH E E v E N 1' N Gr GEAZE T-TT E he suddenly burst into a passion of weeping, and, flinging himself! on the £1001, sobbed as though his heart would break. The captain was turning away, with dimIeyes, when the sound of Kearsley’s voice arrested him, speaking in querulous tones. . “You frightful child!” he was saying, “get Up from there! You know I can’t bear scenes of this description; they are so absurdly theatrical. You’re a most ungrateful little beast; a few thrashings will do'you all the good in the world. They’ve made :1 fool of you, since you’ve been away.” He stooped and caught the boy roughly by the shoulder and dragged him to his feet. Captain John Walker wheeled round and shouted: “Let the child alone! Come here Jack!” Then, as the trembling boy ran to him, and was encircled by his arm, he spoke again, and his words rang out in the silence of the room like pistol shots. “No, Malt-land Kears- ley, I’m damned if you dc! I love the child, and I won’t leave him, here, or anywhere else, to be the victim of your blows—of your childish ill-tem- per. I think I’m more to him than you will ever be or ever have been, and, law or no law, I’ll keep him—by the Lord, I will! Keep back, man, or I’ll break your own cowardly stick: over that addled head of yours yet. Come Jack;. you and me hold togeth- er until you tire of me.” ’* * It # 'Maitland 'Kearsley has decided not to trouble further about his unnatural child. To a friend, of kindred tastes, he recently confided the fact that he had been bitterly disappointed in the boy. “In fact,” he added, “I have abandoned all thoughts of him. His mother was a most worthy woman, but a terrible Philistine, and the boy follows in her u'nhallowed steps. More than that, he has shown that he has a decided preference for the common- place.” SOWING SEED WITH ARTILLERY.‘ A Rocky Crag was thus Successfully Planted with Trees. Alexander Nasmyth. the landscape painter, was a man fruitful in expe- dients. The Duke of Athol consulted him as torsome improvements which he desired to make in his woodland scenery near Dunkeld. Among other things, a certain rocky crag needed to be planted with trees, to relieve the grim barrenness of its appearance. The question was how to do it, as it was impossible for anyman to climb the crag in order to, set seed or plants in the clefts of the rock. A happy idea occurred to Nasmyth. Having observed in front of the castle a. pair of small cannon, it occurred to him to turn them to account. A number of tin canisters-.were filled with all sorts of suitable tree seeds. The cannon were loaded and the canisters were fired against the high face of the rock. Th‘ey burst and scattered the seed in all directions. Some years after Nas- mythwas delighted to find that his scheme of planting byartillery had the trees were flourishing in all the recesses of the cliff. HE SAT ON THE CASE. And Was Perfectly Sure That Life was Ex. tinct When He Got Up. A very ignorant but well-to-do citi- zen from the backwoods was elected Coroner of a small county. A few days after his election he amazed the ordinary by asking that functionary to point out his duties for him. “Why,” said the ordinary, “when a man drops dead, or is killed by an engine, or blown up with dynamite, you simply impanel a jury and sit on him, and then render a verdict.” “That’s jest What I done two hours ago,” said the Coroner, “an’ the citizens air kickin’!” “Kickin’ about what?” “The man what I sot on.” “Well?” “Well, you see, hit was this way. He drapped by the railroad thar, an’ hollered out, ‘Boys, I’m dead!’ ” "Well?” “I wuz standin’ in three feet of him, and ’as he hollered them. ~words I jumped him.” “Jumped him?” “I mean I sot -on him—jest like the coroners air re- quired by law; as I weigh right smart, he kep pur-ty quiet after I landed!” “But he was dead before you reached him, wasn’t he?” “That’s whar the question comes in! Ain’t but one thing erbout it that’s shore an ’certain, an’ that is—he wuz dead when I got up !”- Atlanta Constitution. The Railroad Man’s Condition. Among a batch of stories attributed to President Lincoln is the following good one on President Tyler. “During Mr. Tyler’s incumbency of the office he arranged to make an excursion in some direction, and sent his son ‘Bob’ to arrange for a special train. It hap- pened that the railroad superintendent was a strong Whig. As such he had no favors to bestow on the President, and informed ‘Hob’ that his road did not run any special trains for the president. ‘What,” said. “Bob,” ‘did you not furnish a special train for the funeral of President Harrison ‘2’ ‘ Yes,’ said the superintendent, ‘and if you’ll bring your father in that condition you shall have the best train on the road.’ ” Took an Electric Light to Bed. A Lynchburg drummer nearly caused a serious conflagration at one of the leading hotels in St. Louis the other night. took an incandescent light, which had a long connection to it, in his room, wrapped a bed sheet around it, and placed it in the foot of the bed to keep his feet warm. He was awakened some hours afterward by smoke and roasted feet. The light had set fire to his bed, which wus'in full blaze, and was extinguished after much difficul- ‘ty. The globe to the light had become .soft and plastic from the heat and‘as- sumed an almost flat. shape. -—St. Louis Globe Democmt. / The weather was cold, and he- CAKE OF TOILET SOAP IN EVERY PACKAGE. COLORED PEOPLE. IN EUROPE. Treated with llIore Consideration There Than in This Country. “One of the objections raised against the proposed admission of a colored ca- det to the Naval Academy has amused me,” said a New Yorker who passes every Summer abroad. “It has been said that a colored officer in the navy would subject his fellow ofiicers to humiliation in foreign ports. As a. mat- ter of fact, the color line is not drawn in England and in France as it is here. At the English inn where ~I stayed for a month last summer a colored man, really a black fellow, was seated be- side me at the table. When the cut of beef was served it was offered to this colored man first, and then it was served to me. Now, I am a Southerner by birth, and I went to the proprietor of the hotel and objected. He told’me if I didn’t like it I might go. He said that he made no distinction in color. I changed my seat and remained, for the hotel was really a good one. Paris I went to the opera one night ' and saw in a box two well-dressed white women accompanied by three ne- groes. It was a respectable party, and during the evening several of the oth- er occupants of boxes dropped in to shake hands with the colored men. Such a spectacle in New York would interrupt the Opera. As a matter of fact, these colored men were men of means and good social standing in Paris. I am not saying that colored men should be admitted to the Naval Academy, but I do say that if they be- come officers they will meet with more consideration in England and France than they Will in this country.”—New York Sun. Forgot to Wear Trousers. A certain noble lord, who shall be nameless, during his journey north on a political mission, changed his cos- tume for a full Highland “rig-out,” in- tending it as a delicate‘compliment to the land of the kilt. But when he looked at himself in the glass he found that the tailor had cut his kilt too short; so he made up his mind to put on evening dress. He changed his upper garments and then sat down for a few mo- ments to study his speech. This set him to sleep. He awoke with a start, only to find himself running into the station. Forgetting what happened, he thrust on his hat, and appear-ed at the window bowing, and this was how he was dressed: He had a full Highland costume as far as his waist; above were a white shirt and swallow-tailed coat, and the entire edifice was crowned with a chimney-pot hat, upon which he sat down without noticing it. ' His lord- ship’s horror when he stepped upon the platform and felt the keen wind cutting his bare legs changed to abso- lute agony when his valet appeared, scrambling out of the Carriage with a pair of trousers in his hands, waving them wildly and exclaiming: “My lord, my lord, you’ve forgotten these.” ——London Telegraph. , ,3 - . A Methodlcal Maid. The anecdote of the woman whoSe leminent scientist, husband asked her to hide the latch- key under the door-mat, so that he might find it on his return at night, and who, to make things doubly sure, stuck a card back of the bell plate, on which was written so that it could be easily seen in the llamplight, “The latch-key is‘under- the mat,” was prob- ably a mere fabrication. . Nevertheless, a lady tOIdJl story of her maid at "dinner the other evening, veiy much like one. The mistress was stopping at a hotel. and expecting to be out late, told the maid not to wait but to leave the key of her trunk and jewel box in the pocket of one of her gowns hanging up in the closet (deem- ing that a safe place), and that she Would put away her things herself. On. her return she“, onnd a placard pinned on her cushio eon which was written: “I have left the keys of the trunk . and jewel box in the pocket of your green walking ‘dress, which is hanging up in the closet.” ‘ The Average Life of a Wheel. “What is the. average ‘life"of a wheel? is a question often asked. The bicycle, although an extremely delicate piece of mechanism, will last for many years, even though its first owner may keepjt only a season, if it receives but ordinary care. But long life for a wheel can only be assured by careful attention. The cyclist who wipes his or her bicycle on returning from every spin, and cleans it, or has it cleaned thoroughly, say oncea month, and lub- ricates it properly at stated intervals, will find that the machine will not only last longer, but .the rider will derive more benefit from its use and experi- ence fewer mishaps than would be the case if the machine be left to take care of itself. Later in ' CARE oF THE HANDSP. '7 Special Care Should be Taken with the Hands of Growing Children. No woman of refinement will disre- gard the appearance of her hands, b61 cause these useful members are a}- ways in evidence, and cannot be. over- looked in the general estimate of h‘g}: appearance. To a certain extent the care which a woman takes of hér hands indicates her character. Con~ trary to the popular impression, Soft, white hands a1e_ difficult to attain, be— cause nothing of value is procured without effort. Red, puffy hands are often caused “by wearing gloves which are too small or fasten too tightly. . The best gloves to wear are those of animal skin, such as kid, buckskin and doeskin. The , hands should be ex— posed to the sun and winds as little as possible, and hot water is sure to in- jure any skin, be it on hands or face. Lifting heavy objects, excessive bicy- cle practice and wearing rings too small inevitably result in disfigureé ments. Paients should take special pains to care for the hands of their growing children, for early neglect often de- stroys the possibility of future excel- lence. In order to acquire a soft, white hand, great care must be ob- served in the selection of preparations and toilet soaps. Nothing exceeds the quality of pure olive soap of' Spanish make; all highly colored and very fra- grant sodps should be avoided. .Vio- lent hand shaking is detrimental to the‘ hand, and is avoided by many peo- ple in public life. George Washington at public receptions always stood with his hands behind him, simply bowing with dignified courtesy. Mrs. President Harrison was forced to refrain from hand shaking on ac- count of the disastrous effect on her hands. —Mme. Rowland in New York I‘1ibune.- e . Gentlencss Pays. Proof is abundant of the direct profit 11 :1 kind, quiet, clean and considerate rare-taker and milker; the cow re- sponds generously to the person in Villain she thoroughly confides by in- firease of both quantity and quality of milk. A caieless, rough, rude handler .::l 11111101, or one uncleanly in per- 5.111 01 habits, is dear at any price. Most of the tai'nts and early changes 11 "fill; and injury to quality of‘its pro- cau be directly traced to care- sun‘s-s in the surroundings and con- 1 1.3.1 of the cow or her milker, at the 115' milking. I have lately been at 15- astonished and disgusted at wit- - 21‘: the milking of large herds of 311112.; :11 some parts of this country by foreign: milkers, who practice the wet .::s«1:..;ll. frequently dipping their fing- 11's in the milk mils-Major Alvord. Danger in Eirly 'filsing. Until now people have been content to accept the theory that early rising -in conjunction, of course, with a cor- respondingly early habit of going to bed—is conducive to health. But this belief, like many others, has been shat- rv: tered by the latest scientific research. “People who get up early,” says on “are more liable to go mad than others.” In support of his theory he cities the prevalence of insanity among those en- gaged in agricultural pursuits. Though it is sad to see a time-honored doctrine thus exploded, one is disposed to favor the new opinion at the expense of the old. In any case, there can be no harm in being on the safe side, and af- ' ter all, it is so easy not to get up early. His Cenealogy. , One day a malicious person said to Alexandre Dumas fils, “Your father was a mulatto, was he not?” Dumas replied, “Yes, sir my father was a mulatto, my grandfather a ne- gro, monkey. My genealogy begins where yours ends.” A Fatal Slip. First DeteCtive—How did you know he was from Chicago? Second Detective—By his accent. First Detective—But you Said he did. n’t speak to anyone. Second Detective—I overheard him eating a piece of pie. —Truth. ' l 1 1 l The Origin, of the FooIseap. When Oliver Cromwell became pro- tector after the execution of Charles I, be caused the stamp of the cap of liberty to be placed ,upon the paper used by the government. Soon after the restoration of Charles II, having occasion to use some paper for des; patches, some of this government pa- per was brought to him. On looking at it, and discovering the stamp, he inquired the meaning of it, and on be ing told, he said, “Take it away.” Thus originated the term foolsoap, which has in-ce been applied to a cer- tain size of glazed writing paper. . THE ORIGINAL Stamped ‘5 Boss _” Always the Same and my great—grandfather a- t
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