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nonwntk oAanTTE WEDNESDAY FEBRUARY 12, 1:90.
1':-
«not,
. TRAD
HQIQF
KNOCKS
spore
our
OF
“THE GRIP”
BORNIN
THE
SAME
COUNTRY
THEY ARE
OLD
ENEMIES.
This
RUSSIAN
INFLUENZA
is quadrupling
our sales.
WHY?
Because people find
‘IVNOKOF’
IS the Quickestand most
Effective Remedy.
It does not allow
Bronchitis,
Pneumonia,
. Consumption,
to step in after the Grlp.
For sale at all druggists in Norwalk and
South N orwalk and New York.
Three sizes: 25 cents; 50 cts.; and
75 cents; the largest size most eco-
nomical.
PREPARED ONLY BY
sono““.
fj$%@fi?
' Miu.cu.,’1.imnei -
No. 1 East 89th St, N. Y.
ANTI-C Ll MAX.
I'w‘alkéd a city street, and suddenly
I saw a tiny lad. The winter wind
Howled fitfully, and all the air above
The clear cut outline of the buildings tall
Seemed full of knives that cut against the face:
An awful night among the unhoused poor!
The boy was tattered; both his hands were thrust
For show of warmth within his pocket holes,
Where pockets had not been for many a day.
One trouser leg was long enough to hide
The naked flesh, but one, in mockery
A world too short, tho” he was monstrous small,
Left bare and red his knee—a cruel thing!
Then swelled my selfish heart with tenderness
And pity for the waif: to think of one
So young, so seeming helpless, homeless, too,
Breasting the night, a-shiver with the cold!
Gaining a little, soon I passed him by,
My fingers reaching for a. Silver coin
To make him happier, if only for
An hour, when—I marveled as I heard—
His mouth was puckered up in cheery wise,
And in the very teeth of fortune’s frown
He whistled loud a scrap of some gay tune!
And I must know that all my ready tears
Fell on a mood more merry than mine own.
~—Richard E. Burton in Harper‘s Magazine
FELICIE.
No one remembered such a drought.
“If old Gaspard had not died,” said Ed-
mond confidently to himself, “he could have
matched it; but then he’s dead, so no one re—
members so bad a. drought as this one.”
But no one heard Edmond; if any one had
heard him, he would have paid no attention,
for Edmond did not have all his wits.
The grass and the crops, in hich once had
been green, were now brown; the earth was
baked hard, and everywhere little cracks ran
in all directions. The rough places of the
roads were all hidden under a thick mantle
of dust, as kindly in its appearance as tho
winter’s mantle, but less so in reality. Unless
the rain came—well
“God knows what we shall do,” said one
village elder to another.
“And he never tells us until he is ready,”
said Edmond, reverently.
'So the great drought lasted.
Then Armand Hamel died. It was not the
drum/gilt that killed him. No oue'knew exact-
ly what had killed him.
God‘s doing,” the doctor had said. But he
was dead; and after death comes the funeral.
For the first time in months the sky was
overcast; the red sun ceased to glare upon the
earth, and under the gentle clouds the grass
and the crops seemed actually to revive a
little, and even to raise their heads again.
But no rain fell.
“Does this mean rain?” one villager would
ask of another as they met in the parish house,
while their wives went at once into the
church to pray.
Perhaps the man addressed would answer,
with a shrug, “The clouds hang low over the
cape ;” or perhaps he would go out upon the
gallery, whence he had just come, and look-
ing around at earth and sky and sea. would
say, cautiously: “Who knows? Perhaps.”
In either case the answer was satisfactory.
Every one hoped for rain; almost no one
expected it; and the question was asked
rather to pass the time until the funeral ser-
vice should begin than because Eugene Da-
sylva thought that Joseph Bilet could read
the weather signs better than he himself.
No one asked Edmond, but he of all those
present said nothing doubtful. To Eugene
he said at once, “It will rain; the grass is
getting ready for a shower.” But no one
heard him; at all events, no one paid any at-
tention; he was only half witted.
From the gallery in front of the parish
house one could see many things. Directly
in front was the road White with dust, filled
with the caleches and planches and quat’-
roues which had brought the farmers and
villagers to the church. Across the road
were fields, and beyond the fields hills, cut
into terraces by great glaciers melted ten
thousand years ago. On the right was the
4 church, with its tin roof and its spires; and
the priest’s house, with two willow trees in
front of it, and the convent- and the grave-
yard. On the left, behind the poor brown
trees, was the seigneury; and behind the
house, across the river—a mile wide when the
tide was in, barely two yards when the tide
was out—rose the cape which gave the town
its name, and seemed to protect the town it
named.
Over the cape hung black, threatening
- clouds, but so little did they indicate rain
that the farmers’ eyes more readily sought
, the church and the priest’s house than they
' did the rock and its low hanging crown.
In course of time a constant succession of
remarks and replies on the subject of the
weather had emptied the parish house of all
its male inmates; the women and children
', had already gone into the church. The men
' stood on the gallery in front of the house, al-
most in silence:I no one cared to talk about
the errand which had brought them together;
__ so they stood waiting for something in anx-
-, ious impatience.
Suddenly from the steeple of the church
rang out sharply the little bell, and at the
sound the men started, and crossed them-
pened, they moved toward the church, the
oldest man leading tho way, the younger men
struggling to avoid bringing up the rear.
Again the bell rang out. It was tolling.
Out of the cloud -of dust, along the narrow,
worn road, came the yellow hearse, open to
the sky, bearing the red coffin, dust white
now, wherein slept- Armand Hamel. Behind
the hearse, in the town’s only two horse
vehicle, broughtout on great occasions like
weddings and funerals, rode the mourners—-
' Xavier amel, Philomena his wife, and little
Felicie Pelletier, the maiden who was to ,have
been Armand’s Wife. Had Armand lived but
a month longer, Felicie had been their daugh-
ter; now she was neither their daughter nor
their son’s widow.
The men halted awkwardly at the church
door, and removed their hats as the hearse
‘ drew up. The priest stood on the steps, mis-
sal in hand, and placing himself before the
coffin began the oflice‘of the dead. Most of
the men without the church and the women
within repeated audibly their prayers:
“Deliver me, Lord, from them that hate
me, that I be not swallowed in the abyss,
that the pit wherein they have cast me
close not above me.” And again: “Lord
God, king of the ages, thou alone am; full of
kindness; hear me, O Lord, whose pity is al-‘
ways ready to pardon; guard my soul, and
deliver it.”
Meantime the mourners had entered the
church, and were making their way to their
seats. They Walked slowly, delayed rather
by the emotions of the girl than by any weak-
ness of the older mourners. At last they
reached their places, and the burial service
began.
All this time the clouds that had encom-
passed the cape came nearer, and more and
more assumed the character of rain clouds.
The cape loomed up, and the miles of water
between it and the church seemed but yards,
so near it seemed to be. Edmond put out his
hand, as if to touch the great rock; then he
looked at' the sky and went into the church.
Everything was strangely still. The voice
of the priest sounded as if it came from a
great distance. The children, usually rest-
less, sat quietly. The darkness of an ap-
proaching storm pervaded the church; the
light before the altar burned dimly and un-
certainly. Only whore Felicie sat, itseemed
to-the lad. was thrro anyvlight: around her
“I cannot tell; it is _.
selves. Then, as if the expected had hep--
I . _
there was a strange brightness; but he did
not feel afraid.
At last the priest closed his book, and the
congregation sighed with relief as be de-
scended from the sanctuary and stood at the
head of the coma. Then priest, coffin and
silent congregation left the church, and went
through the narrow gate into the graveyard.
There a grave had been dug, next to that in
which the shipwrecked Portuguese had been
all,
In the center stood the priest and the
grave diggers; next to them Were old Xavier
Hamel and his wife, Philomena, and between
them stood Felicie Pclletier.
“Poor Felicie!” thought Edmond. “She is
very young, and so little.”
Slowly the old priest read the words of
committal, and then the poor red coffin was
lowered into its place.
As the coffin disappeared from sight thun-
der began to roll. The distant bills, the
great capo were lit up by flashes of light-
ning, and far away the rain could be seen
falling heavily. As yet, however, no breath
of itsfreshness reached the kneeling liabitans.
A movement ran through the crowd as wind
sweeps through standing grain. \Vomen and
men looked up timidly; children looked
around boldly. Even the priest hastened his
utterance, to finish before the storm should
break.
Still the thunder rolled. It had not begun
suddenly, but slowly, majestically; at first
afar off, but ever coming nearer; not a sul-
len roar, not the ill humored crashing that
some thunch r is, but awful and grand.
The crowd rose; the priest’s voice was no
longer heard in the noise of the thunder.
Perhaps he had stopped his prayers.
Then suddenly from the black cloud that
hung: directly above the congregation burst a
flash of lightning—mot the forked lightning
that strikes down dwellings and crops and
men, but a great broad flash, so bright and
glorious that all fell again upon their knees
and hid their faces in their hands; so won-
drous and awful that they dared utter no
sound, but remained silent and motionless.
Only two stood upright—Felicie and Ed-
mond. Felicie had knecled, weeping on the
shoulder of Mme. Hamel, while the priest
gave back to earth all that had made her life
happy. Armand and she had been betrothed
so long, their wedding day had been so near,
and now Armand was taken from her so
strangely and so suddenly. So while the
priest read the sacred sentences, and the
people who had loved Armand stood about
his grave, she whom Armand had loved
kneeled and sobbed, hearing not at all the
murmured words of Mme. Hamel, hearing as
if they were spoken afar off the words of the
priest. But now that even the priest was
terror stricken and cowering, Felicie stood
up, no longer clinging to Armand’s mother,
and looking up into heaven she spoke to the
thunder.
“My father,” she said, or so it seemed to
the lad who stood almost by her side.
had not ceased to roll, crashed yet again, and
the echoes rolled back from the cape and died
slowly away in the distance, and all was
silent. And Felicie spoke again, but the lad
could not hear what she said,and she bowed
her head.
Again the thunder answered, a. majestic
pea], yet not to make those who heard it
afraid. But Felicie said nothing more; she
as if in expectation.
Then came a blinding flash of lightning.
For an instant only dared the boy look; then
he clapped his hands over his eyes and fell
upon his knees. But in that instant he saw
Felicie standing in the midst of the glory of
the great brightness, smiling, and above her
was a great rift in the clouds. Further than
ever before could the lad see on high; then
he presed his hands to his eyes, and sank
upon his knees, and cried aloud in terror.
IVhen the lightning had become dim, and
thc'thunder had died away, came the rain.
In torrents it fell, and all sprang up, forget-
ting Armand almost and Felicie, thinking
only that the drought was broken, and re-
joicing. But when they saw Felicie they re-
membered everything, and stood still, as if
abashed.
Felicie stood at the head of the grave. Her
hands were clasped before her; her face was
lifted up, and she was smiling.
. looked at, what she saw, no one could tell.
The priest- approached her almost timidly.
“Felicie,” he said, but she made no answer.
“Felicie,” he said, more loudly. And again,
more loudly still, “Felicie.”
As if he feared that she had been struck
dead, the priest laid his hand on her arm.
She moved, and he gave a sigh of relief.
“Felicie, come with me,” he said; but the
girl moved not, nor made as if she heard him.
The people moved nearer and looked at her,
aimost with terror.
At last the maiden lowered her eyes and
looked toward the priest; he looked her full
in the face, and his cheeks paled.
“Felicie,” he said imploringly, “do you see
me? Do you hear me?” But still she made
no answer. ,
“What is this?” murmured the priest,
hoarsely; and Edmond, the half witted boy,
answered him:
“Father,” he said, touching the priest’s
arm, “Felicie has seen God, and heard him
speak, and spoken to him. I do not think,
father, that she can see you or hear you;
your face is not bright enough for her eyes
to see; your voice is not loud enough for her
to hear.”
The priest turned to the lad suddenly, and
the boy stepped back abashed; but the priest
held out his hand, and the boy took it and
held it.
“My children,” said the priest, and at his
words the crowd knelt in wonder on the
earth, no longer dry; and the priest spoke:
“The Lord hath spoken in the thunder to
Felicie; he hath appeared to her in the light-
ning. What ears have heard the Lord, them
hath be sealed; what eyes have seen the
Lord, them hath he closed; What tongue has
spoken with the Lord, that hath he silenced.
N of: on earth can those cars hear, those eyes
see, that tongue speak.
“Listen, my children; Felicie hath heard
God, and she is deaf; she hath seen him in
his glory, and she is blind; she hath spoken
with him, and she is dumb. But it is no
grief to Felicie that this is so; for the words
of the Lord have comforted her inner sorrow
and made all earthly words unfit for her to
hear; his glory makes dark all mortal things
to her; the tongue that has spoken with God
must speak with no mortal man. Blind, then,
is Felicie, deaf and dumb; yet pity her not,
my children, for the hand of the Lord is
upon her gently; he hath honored her above
than ever before, is she happy; today is she
in very truth Felicie.”
In silence the people heard the priest, and
when he had spoken the benediction in silence
they went to their homes, thinking much.
Then old Xavier Hamel and his wife Philo-
mene took Felicie to their home, and she was
as their daughter; and the people thought of
her as one unhappy, but asone honored great-
ly by God and chosen out to have her sorrows
turned to joy. But Felicie neither saw nor
heard nor spoke again on; earth, and in God’s
’time she fell asleep, to meet, awaking, Ar-
mand—R. N. Trevor in Harper’s Weekly.
Never reserve your good manners for com-
pany, but be equally polite at home and
abroad.
buried, and around the grave gathered they 1
And, as if in answer, the thunder, which ‘
St°°d With her face turned to the dark Sky, I couldn’t possibly stop, and I believed the fire
“That She shoving that first one along like apair of
all women, save only one, and today, more ‘
‘SOME ENGINEER YARNS.”
TOLD BY A VETERAN CHICAGO
KNIGHT OF THE FOOTBOARD.
Watching an Impending Collision of Trains
Is Not Very Funny—Havoc Wrought by
a Stubborn Stock Shipper—A Desperate
Woman at the Throttle.
John C. Taylor, for many years a locomo~
tive engineer on the roads of the middle west,
is full of reminiscences as an egg is of meat.
“Ever on a wrecked train l”. he asked.
“No? Then you don’t know what you missed.
But the man who rides along comfortably
till the shock comes is a good deal better off
than if he saw it some minutes ahead and
couldn’t get away. One time I was run—
ning the fast express on the Pittsburg road,
and pulled into W anatah, Ind., just after
dark with eight loaded cars. It was Friday
night while the exposition was running here
in Chicago, and every car was crowded.
There was a freight on the New Albany
road, which crosses the Pittsburgr there, and
it was due to pass some ten minutes ahead of
my time. I couldn’t see it and the target
lights gave me the track, so I pulled out and
was almost to the crossing when I saw the
man at the target run up the Albany track
swinging a red lantern like mad. Just then
I saw that freight coming down grade at full
- tilt, and whistling for brakes I let on all the
steam I had, but blast if my drive wheels
didn’t slip and just go whirling around there
like tops. The little headway I had gathered
pushed us forward, and the engine was just
on the crossing. If the wheels would have
taken hold I could have cleared it before the
freight came, but I saw it was no use. They
would strike us sure. So I had my choice:
I could pull the engine across and let them
hit the coaches, or I could stop where I was
and let the engine take it.
“ ‘Hurnau life before dollars,’ I said to my
fireman, and reversed the engine. She took
hold, strangely enough, and stopped the train
stock still. I let on a little more steam and
tried to back, but they flew again, and my
partner and I jumped, just in time to see that
blundering freight crash into my Baldwin
engine. They made an awful wreck. The
whole freight train piled up along the track
and smashed half the cars. The two engines
was all drove together and ruined, but we
got the track clear, and a new engine came
down from Valparaiso and pulled my train
into Chicago. But, sir, not half the passen-
gers on my train knew there was a wreck.
They were comfortable, and their cars being
nearly still when the shock came, they were
not jolted a bit. The company cussed a little
when I told them I lost the engine to save the
passengers, but I guess they would rather
have it that way. Suits for damages, when
a lot of people are killed, are always expen-
sive. But the strain of those few minutes on
me, when I knew my train must be struck,
and had to choose where, was enough to make
my black hat turn gray.
“I was running a through freight on the
Alton road one time and fetching a train load
of cattle up from St. Louis. It was along
about morning, and just this side of Lincoln
as we rounded a curve I saw a little bridge
on fire. It was over a dry, shallow creek
bed and wasn’t over twenty feet wide. I
had not yet weakened it much, so I put on a
full head and let her go. About five cars
back from the engine was the man that own-
ed most of the cattle, and he saw the fire al«
most as soon as I did. He danced and yelled
and swung his arms, but I let him go and
watched the bridge. Just as the pilot pushed
into the smoke something broke loose behind,
and I’ll be shot if that engine of mine didn’t
jump two feet in the air. She came down all
right and just flew like a bullet. I shut off
the steam and looked around. There was
only two cars with me. That infernal
old man had taken the train in his own
hands and climbed down to the bumpers
when he saw I was going to take the
bridge; he uncoupled the third car
and the rest of the train, climbed up again
and set the forward brake till he just about
split it. Then he ran to the next, and his
hired man helped him. His cars came on,
skates till it stood right on the bridge. There
i it stopped, and when all the slack was taken
up the weight of twenty cars of cattle just
shoved the head of his train into the creek
bed, tipped seven over on their sides and de-
railed the rest. I was so mad I could have
hammered him. The bridge would have held
the cars running, but when the dead weight
rested on it, with all that train banging up
behind, it went down. “Te had to open the
cars and let nearly two hundred head of fat
Kansas steers out on the prairie, and it took
a wrecking train four days to fix up the
bridge and track and take the rubbish away.
And then that jayhawker had the nerve to sue
the company for damages. Get it? Well, no.
“I ran across a woman engineer once. Her
father used to own a big sawmill, and, being
an engineer himself, he taught the trade to his
daughter. She was a little wild, I guess, and
ran away from home to take an engine on a
little narrow gauge track in the Arkansas
woods, dressing like a man and wearing her
hair short. Then she got a freight train on
the Iron Mountain road from Poplar Bluff to
St. Louis. She held that until she went to
sleep one night and ran plump into a freight
on a crossing. Then she skippfed, and turned
up afterward on the ‘Q’ road at the time of
the big strike. I knew her father well, and
he often asked me if I saw her. Finally one
morning when I was pulling out of Chicago
on a. Rock Island train I saw her backing a
'Q’ engine down to the yards. I called her
by name, and when I started out next morn-
ing she came to my cab, got on and rode out
a ways.
“I never saw her again till just before I
quit the road. She came to me at Council
Bluffs one night and wanted to ride to Chi-
cago. She had no money and was discour-
aged, and I let her ride. although it was
against the rules. She sat before me and ran
my engine half the night. She seemed to be
watching for something, and didn’t talk
much. At last, just before midnight, while
we were passing through a stretch of woods,
she threw over the lever, set the air brakes,
and fetched the train up with a. bump inside
of a hundred yards.
“ ‘What’s the matter? I asked.
“ ‘Man on the track; don’t you see him?’
she said, and jumped to the ground. There
was aman on the track, but I hadn’t seen
him before, and didn’t believe she saw him
when she stopped. Just then I heard a shot
fired, and looking back saw a group of fel-
lows trying to smash in the side door of the
express car.
.“ ‘Go ahead if you can, John,’ yelled the
conductor. ‘Go ahead, for God’s sake,’ came
from the express messenger, and I let on the
steam again. The man who had been lying
on the rails was gone. We gathered head-
way rapidly1 and the fellows who had been
unding t e door tried to get on the cars.
ut as the train went faster they jumped to
the ground and escaped. The woman is in
with a. gang of train robbers, and is doing
good work for them. I shouldn’t wonder if
she made her scheme work some night and
her pals will get a big haul. But they didn’t
take anything out of mytrain,’ and if I ever .
'see her again, I’ll send her where she'll have
lots of time to be despondent, and where she’ll
she never saw a steam gauge.”—Chicago
Herald.
Hold It To The Light.
The man who tells you confidentially
just what will cure your cold is prescrib-
ing Kemp’s Balsam this year. In the
preparation of this remarkable medicine I
for coughs and colds no expense is spared i
tocnmbiue only the best and purest in-l
greilieuts. Hold a bottle of Kemp’s Bal- .
sum to the light and look through it; i
notice the bright, clear look; then com- 3
pure with other remedies. Large bottles
at. all druggists, 50 cents and $1. Sample
bottle free.
Various Lunacxes.
The Italians, and in fact all the inhabitants
of lands bordering on or adjacent to the Med-
iterranean sen, are firm believers in moon in-
fluences. In this country we look for @angcs
for better or for worse in the condition of
sick persons to take place immediately after
midnight;
I
I
zon. In America, during a critical period,
we say that the patient will not survive
, longer than till midnight; in India they say
he will never see the moon rise again. Dur-
ing the time of the plague, 1650 to 1066, phy-
sicians noted abnormal changes for the worse
just preceding and following each full moon.
Diemerbroeck, in his treatise on that awful
epidemic, says: “Two or three days before
and after each full moon there were twice as
many deaths as there were during any other
four to six days.”—John 'W. Wright in St.
Louis Republic.
For the cure of the inflamation and con-
gcsticn called “a. cold in the head” there is
more potency in Ely’s cream balm than in
anything else it is possible to prescribe.
This preparation has for years past been
making a brilliant success as a remedy
for cold in the head, catarrh and hay
fever. Tsed in the initial stages stages or
these complaints Cream Balm prchnts
any serious development of the symptoms,
while almost numberlcss cases are on
record of radical cures of chronic catarrh,
after all other modes of treatment have
failed.
You Should Have a’Cha'nge of Shoes.
Probably the best reason that can be ad-
duced for giving the shoes a rest occasionally
is the fact that they have a chance to become
thoroughly dry. This is to be recommended
both as a sanitary measure and as a preserva-
tive of the leather. Whenever possible,
every person should have at least two pairs
of outdoor shoes and wear them on alternate
days. The moisture from the air and pave-
in bedchambers where there is but little
warmth the shoes do not become thoroughly
dry between night and morning—Shoe and
Leather Reporter.
It is simply wonderful how a good thing
gets known and appreciated. In the
public school examinations now thug .‘lSk
the small boys: "Who was the first man?”
“Adam.” “The first woman ?” "Eve.”
“Who was the 22ml President of the
United States?” “Grover Cleveland.”
“What is the specific cure for pain ?”
“Salvation Oil.”
When may a man be said to belong to
the vegetable kingdom ? When exper-
ience has made him a sage.
“Why, Alice, you’ve put your shoes on
the wrong feet.” "What’ll I do, mamma?
They’re all the feet I’ve got.”
To become happy, read about the Im—
proved Medical Discoverv in another
column.
Will be found an excellent remedy for
sick headache. Carter’s Little Liver Pills.
Thousands of letters from people who
have used them prove this fact.
them.
RHEUMAIS
These twin diseases cause untold suffering.
Doctors admit that they are difficult to cure-—
so do their patlenls. Palnc’s
Celery Compound has per—
manently cured the worst
cases of rheumatism and
neuralgia—so say those who
have used it.
“Having been troubled
with rheumatism at the knee
and foot for live yczirs,l was
almost unable to get around,
and was very often confined
to my bed for weeks at a
time. I used only one hot-
. tle of Palne’s Celery Coni-
pound, and was perfectly
cured. I can now jump
around, and feel as lively as
a boy.” FRANK Canon,
Eureka, Nevada.
.1
FOR SALE.
NO USETO
OWNER.
$1.00. Six for $5.00. Drugglsts.
Mammoth testimonial paper free.
WELLS. RICHARDSON & Co.,Props.,Burlington,Vt.
Give Faster and Brighter
Colors than any other Dyes.
DIAMOND 0 YES
g$CK
———IN
physicians.
This is to certify that I have used for s
nation of remedies, for Headache, known as
in Persia they look for such i
changes as the moon appears above the hori- ‘
ments in wet weather and the dampness from ,
the confined feet penetrate the leather, and '
Try ’
A?! iiEiiMlfilA
. ' ' L lated Food are Healthy:
l BABIES Lmngupon ac
more headacbes, especially such as effect Nervo
with, and if this certificate Will be the means of _
sufferers from that trouble, I shall feel thatI have done them a servxce.
PEARL’
_ WHITE
GchEnmE
Beautifies the Complexion; Pm'ifies, Whit-
ens and Softens the Skin, eradicatinv all un-
perfections such as Freckles, Moth Patches,
Blackheads, Pimples, etc, mthout in-
gu , Cures Sunbmn, Chapped and Chafed
kin, instantly.
Son) AT Dnuceisrs’ PRICE, 50 0mm.
Cleanses the
Nasal l’ussnncs.
Allays Pain and
Influmul ion.
dials llll: Sul‘cs.
RI‘HUI'CS the
Senses of 'l‘uslc
and Sun-ll.
A porticlcis applied into each nostril and Is
agreeable. l'ricc fitlcrnlsul Ilruggisls; by mail,
registered. fill cls. ELY BROTHERS, 56 Warren
Street, New York. H44
Itwill drive the Humor from your
system, and make your skin
clean and smooth. Those
Pimples and Blotches
which mar your beauty.
are caused b impure
blood, an can be
removed in a short
time, it you are
wise and use
medicine. Try
you will be satisfied.
Get it of your Drugglst.
x Dox’rWAJ'r. Gnrrrn‘r oxen
f on are suffer-in from Kid.
neI Bisease, and wigsh to live to
01 age, use SULPHUR BITTERS.
They never fall to cure.
3 2-cent stamps to A. P. 0rdwa 8; Co.
13:33:11, Mass, for best medical work pu lishedil
“Paine’s Celery Compound has been aGod-
send to me. For tho past two years I have suf-
fered wil h neuralgia of the heart. doctor after
do-rlorl'nilin}: {ochre Ill“. I have now taken
rmarlv four bottles of the (7(ill'll’éllall'l. and am
fru-efro'u Lhmmn-mlniul- 1 feel very grateful
to you.“ Cuns. 1;. Luau-s, Centran'illagc, (:t.
"aine’s
Celery mempound
“I have been greatly afflicted with acute
rhcuimulsm, and could find no rclicf.until I
usz-d Paint-is k‘clcry Compound. After using
six l‘fllllf'fi ofllns medicine I am now cured of
rlusuinutlr troubles."
SAMUEL 1i urcnmson, So. Cornish, ‘N. H.
Effects Lasting Cures.
Palnc‘sC'clcry Compound has performed many
other cures as marvelous as these—copies of
letters sent to any address. Pleasant to take,
does not disturb, but aids digestion, and entire-
ly vegetable; achild can take it. What's the
use of suffering longer with rheumatism or
neuralgia?
Happy, Hearty. It is Uncqualcd.
BRIGGS’
HEADACHE-:-TBOC HES
—————FOR-———
HEADACHE,
ITS
Nervous, Billions or Congestive Forms.
-————-—-————‘,—>__..4 A . _.
This Remedy is the Prescription of one of the leading Physicians of Paris
France,and was used by him with unparalleled success for over thirty years,
and was first given to the Public as a. Proprietary Medicine in 1878, and
since that time it has found its way into almost every country on the face
of the Globe, and become a favorite remedy with_thousands of the leading
Medical societies have discussed its marvelous success at their
annual conventions, and after their official chemist have analyzed it and
found that it contained no opiates, bromides, or other harmful ingredients
quietly placed it'among their standard remedies. :
w
TESTIMONIAL-
L. R. BROWN, M. D.,
23 West Jersey St._
, ELIZABETH, N. J ., J une 28th, 1889.
I
ome months with much satisfaction, the combi
Briggs’ Headache Troches. The remedy cure
as Women than anything I am acquainte
bringing it to the favorable attention
L. R. BROWN, MOD}
anom. 25 CENTS.
SOLD BY H. R. HALE, NORWALK. CONN.
names, MEDIGINE COMPANY"
ELIZABETH, N. .1.
Norwalk Chronicler