HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times, 1895-4-11, Page 3a
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TIIE EXETER TIMES
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A WOMAN'S STORY
CHAPTER XXXIV. on that fatal day—did I make up my mind
My wicked scheme did not shape itself that I was going to do this hideous thing,
all at once. For many days and nights I Again and again and again with agonizing
was haunted by the imago of Claude Morel, iteration T had argued the question. I had.
told myself that this horror could not be .
that I, Ambrose Arden, was nob the etufl'
of whioh murderers are made; and again
and again and yet again my thoughts had
gone bank to the pit of hell, and 1 had pito
tared you free to return my love, and I had
thought that such love must finally win its.
reward; that, in all intense passion there is
a magic power which can compel responsive
passion, as fire will spread from ono burn-
ing.fabric to -another that was dark and
cold till the flame touohed it.
When your husband left the gate that.
morning I knew that I must act at once, or
never.. I walked to the station, caught tiro
slow train that left an hour after the ex-
press by whioh he traveled, and went to
Reading, where the wording of my telegram
was nob likely to arouse official curiosity.
I had only one fact to communicate—the
hour of Hatrell's appointment with Flores -
tan's solicitor. Morel knew the locality of
the bank, and it would befor him to watch
and find out the route from Cockspur Street
to Lincoln's Inn.
Can you think whatmy feelings were that
night when youcame over to this house at
ten o'clock to tell me that your husband
had not returned
I knew then that one of the moat hellish
schemes ever hatched had been carried out
to the bitter end, and that the murder had
been done.. Did Judas feel as I did, I
wonder, before he went and hanged himself?
Idid not give myself up to that blind des-
pair of remorse which moved him who be-
trayed his 'Master. I was baser, harder,
viler than Judas—for I stood that night
with your hands clasped in mine, pretend-
ing to comfort you, repeating lying assur-
ancee that all would be well, while my
heart beat madly with the thought that
you were free, and that it would be my
life's dear labor to win your love.
And through those days• of doubt and
horror I aotod my part, and hypocrisy
came easy to me. Anything was easy, so
long as I was with you, consoling, advising,
sustaining ; you leaning upon me in your
innocent unooneoiouene,s of the deep flood
of passion that surged below the steadfast
quietude which I had schooled myself to
maintain.
Through those days I was haunted by
the fear that the murderer would be caught,
tried, and condemned, and that he would
reveal my part in his crime. I feared that
which has now come to pass, after a respite
of nearly nine years.
Then Dame the darkest period of all my
hateful life, the period of your Bin eas, when
your life hung in the balance, when every
day that dawned might be your last on
earth. I lived through that time, a time
of fear and trembling, which I shuddered
even to remember, years afterwards.
And then, and thep came my great re-
ward—the reward of treachery and blood
shed, base betrayal of a noble friend, a long
tissue of lies and hypocrisies ; then, after
years of patience, during which 1 had
shrunk with an unconquerable hesitancy
from putting my fate to the touch, I had
the prioe of my sin. Your love, no 1 That
love for which I had sinned was no nearer
my winning, after seven years' apprentice-
ship, than it was while my .victim lived.
"Naugest's had, all's spent,
his eyes kindling like two burning coals, When our desire is got without content."
haunted' by the tones of his voice, the lurid
light iu his oyes when be had talked of his
enemy. Again and again I found myself
mentally measuring the force of that hatred
which had expressed itself in biting tones
and malevolent looks, Did it amount to
so much, or so much, or so much ? Was it
really atrong enongh to planand accomplish
an assassination, in broad daylight, in the
streets of London, a deed as daring as the
murder of the workman who betrayed hie
comrades ?
All this time my life went on uponthe
old lines—the oalm monotony of rustic
surroundings, the unvarying graciousness
ofniehour 'e i
y fri p, Your child sat beside
me at her books, under the willow, or hung
upon my shoulder in her exuberance of
love ; and there was no instinct in her
ohildish mind to warn her that the man she
loved and trusted had gieen himself over
to the powers of hell.
I am not sufficiently orthodox to believe
in a personal Devil any more than I believe
in a personal God ; yet in those days I
could not divest myself of the feeling that
winked influences outside my own existence
had got hold of me—that the hideous hopes
and schemes that I was forever revolving
inn mind were prompted bya power
of
Y P P
iniquity greater than my own.
While the wicked web was slowly spread-
ing, the man who was the inoarnation • of
my own sinful longing appeared upon the
scene. He had written me two or three
begging letters after that chance meeting
in Gower street, and I had sent him small
suns of money, such amounts as a man of
my supposed means might send to such
an applicant. These concessions had made
him bolder, and he came to thy house in
the dusk of a summer evening, having
walked all the way from Staines. He had
just the railway fare to Staines, he
told me, and: no more. I took him in and.
fed him, and let him sit at my table and
vapor about his inchoate inventions, all
burked for the want of capital. 1 let him
talk of your husband, and I answered all
his questions about the man he hated. I
told, him of Robert Hatrell's happy and
peaceful life, his prosperity, his last fancy
for sinking four thousand pounds in the
purchase of a few aores of land to increase
bis pleasure' grounds.
"In your native south, I take it, you
would be able to buy an olive wood and a
vineyard with that money?" I said.
He nodded yes, and went on eating and
drinking in a meditative silence.
"Now, were any man as savage a foe to
Robert Hatrell as you pretend to be," 1
said, after a long pause, "he would have a
good chance of taking his revenge and mak-
ng his fortune sometime next week."
He looked at me wonderingly, and I
explained that Hatrell would have to pay
for the land in Bank of England notes. It
was an old-fashioned etiquette with solici-
tors to expect to be paid in bank -notes,
even when a man's check was as good as
the bank paper. Hatrell would go up to
London on an appointed day, Dash hie
check at his bank, and then carry the.
money to his solicitor's office. I told him
casually the name and address of the bank,
and the name and address of the solicitor ;
and I saw him sitting there before me,with
and his under IT trembling curiously as
his halting breai h came and went.
-"Hatrell and his money will be safe
enough," he muttered, at last. "A man
can't be robbed and murdered in broad
daylight in such a pity as London."
dayligl:t in snch a city as London."
" There you showyour foreign ignorance
of our manner and customs," Ieaid ; and
then I gave him the brief history of several
metropolitan assassinations which had oc-
curred within my memory.
He became very serious and silent, sitting
before his empty plate, with his chin droop-
ing on his chest, his inky brow bent in
a thoughtful frown. Suddenly, after an
interval which seemed long, he lifted his
head and turned end looked at me with a
devilish cunning in his oyes.
"You hate Robort Hatrell as much as I
do," he said. "You are in love with his
wife, I dare say."
"Nonsense. I am only trying to prove
to you that all your talk about hatred and
revenge is so much melodramatic bluster,
and that you haven't the slightest intention
of injuring my friend."
"Your friend ! your friend 1" he repeat-
ed, mockingly.
And then, after another interval of
silence, during which he walked over to
the window and stood looking across the
placid summer twilight, in n the direction
of
the River Lawn, he came over to me and
atood in front of me, looking at me fixedl
and emphasizing ever* sentence with a
sharp rap of his knuckles upon the table.
"You want that man killed, so do I; tela
se comprend. I would kill him for sixpence,
kill him for the mere pleasure of making
him understand that he was a fool to trifle
with Claude Morel's sister, and a greater
fool to 'insult Claude Morel, I take too
lofty a view of the situation, perhaps.
That is in my blood. We Provenoals do
not easily pardon an injury or an insult.
I would kill him for sixpence, but I would
much rather kill him for four thousand
pounds. You say the purchase is to be
completed.newtweek?
I nodded yes. My dry lips refused to
speak.
" Let me know the day and hour. Let
me know, if you can, the route he is likely
to take from Pall Mall to Lincoln's Inn
Fields. Give me twenty poundsto be ready
for what I have to do, and in order that I
may have a few ,pounds about me to get
out of England in case of failure. Do this,
and you may lie down to -night secure in
the thought that Robert Hatrell's days
are numbered, and that his wife will soon
be his widow."
I gave him Iwoten-pound notes without
a word.
I'll think about the other part of the
business," T told him.
" Remember, if I am to act you will
have to be prompt and decisive,"he said.
" I can't stir a step without exact details
I shall shift my lodgiegs to -morrow, so as
to be near the tonne of action. My present
quarters at Camden Town are too far
afield."
.devilish coolness was too much for
me. I told him I had been talking at
random I meant nothing except to teat
him. Ho had proved himself a greater vil-
lien than 'I had thought petaible, and I
never wanted to see his face again.
`k You will think better of that,"he said.
"1'ii telegraph my address- tomorrow
morning,' and I shall wait for your in-
structions,"
iotrtill the last moment not till I oreseed
the threshold of the post -office at Reading,
an hour after your husband left for London
aekihe
That waa the motto of my lite.
Then name a new horror -a haunting
fear of the dead, which I take to have been
rather physical than mental. Could [,
diaciple of b'chopenheuer and Hartmann—
I who had graduated in the school of exact
science, and reduced every thought and
feeling to its logical sequence, admitting
nothing which my mind could not
conceive.—could I be the sport of
ghostly forms and unreal voices ? I to be
haunted and paralyzed by the dread of a
shadow—I to tremble and turn cold on
entering yourhusband!s study lest 1 should
see a pale image of the dead seated where
the living man used to sit—I to walk those
familiar gardens with an ever-present dread
of a well-known footstep sounding behind
me, or, when no imaginary sound pursued
me, with an absolute certainty that I was
being followed by the noiseless movements
of a phantom 1 I to become the slave of',
such fears—I who believe in nothing beyond
the limitations of our understanding—who
have restricted all my speculations to the
real and the infinite !
I knew front the first that these horrors
had their source in shattered nerves and
broken health. I knew that I was as much
a sufferer from physical causes as the
victim of alcoholic poisoning who sees devils
and, vermin about his bed. Yet the thing
was as real to me as if
I had been the
firmest believer in supernatural influences,
and I suffered as much from these false
appearances and imaginary sounds as the
believer could have suffered. That is one
torm which retribution has taken. The
other form has been my ever-present sense
of disappointment in not having won your
heart. Tortured thus, life has been only a
synonym for suffering, and I can look for-
ward coldly and calmly to the coming day-
light, when I shall have ceased to live.
How can I plead to you atthe close of
this full and deliberate confession ? How
dare I hope that you can have any feeling
except loathing for the writer of these
lines ? For myself, therefore, I will ask
nothing. I ask only that you will he kind
to my son, who, if Morel carries out his
threat, must bear henceforward the burden
.01 a name blurred by his father's infamy.
He has a fine character, and will reward
your kindness. His mother was one of the
best and purest of women ; think of him
as inheriting her virtues and not my dark
and evil spirit. It is not his nature either
to love as I have loved or to sin as I have
sinned. •
Yes, you will be good to my son, I know,
Clare, You will forget that there is one
drop of my ,Tudae blood in his veins. You
may know now, in this day of confessions,
wfiiy he left us --why he broke the tie
between him and Daisy, and shook the
dust of his father's dwelling off his feet.
He had found me out. Aooident had put
him in the way of hearing his father's guilt
pronounced by the lips of the wretch who
executed the prime which his father had
only medicated in evil dreams,
Claude Morel hunted me out in our house
in London, and forced his way to my study
in order to ask me for money. It was not
his firat attempt upon my purse after our
joint crime. I had been pestered by letters
from him, sometimes at long intervals,
sometimes in rapid succession ; but 1 had
answered noae of those letters ; and now
when he dared to force an entrance into
my house I Was rigid in my refusal of
money. I knew what the word ohautage
means for a Frenchman of his temper, and
that if I once opened my purse to him I
should be hie :,lave forever. I was no
coward in my relations with that scoundrel,
although he threatened rue with the one
thingwhich Iliad to fear, 13o threatened
to tel you the story of his orime, and how
he took the first hint of it fror» my lips.
He had the telegram sent from Reading on
the morning of the murder --the telegram
giving the hour of your husband's appoint-
ment—and he swore that if I denied him
substa#atial help he would tell his story to
you, and lay that telegram before you.
I bade him do his worst, strong in
the
assurance that he would do nothing to in-
oriminate himself, and that he could not
touch upon the .subject of Robert Hatrell's
death without jeopardizing his own safety,.
Least of all did I believe that he would.
reveal himself to you as your husband's
murderer, No 1 felt that I had nothing
to fear beyond personal annoyance from
the• existence of Claude Morel; -yet the
memories which the man pressed upon
me were so 'hideous, his presence was
was so intolerable, that I would have given
half my fortune to be rid of him forever.
It was as if my crime had taken a living
shape and were dogging my steps. Most
of all did 11 teethe his presence when he
came upon me in my quiet study in this
house—in the room where his crime and
mine had first shaped itself in my disorder-
ed mind.
He had resolved to weary me oub, I
believe, and to that end he had taken a
lodging at Henley. He appeared upon my
pathway at all hours and in the most
unexpected places; but I was rock.
We had several interviews before the
one which was fatal to my son's peace of
mind, and which parted father and son
forever,
On tht partiOular morning Morel over-
took me in the lane near my cottage, and
urged his demands with a savage persist-
ence, rendered desperate, I suppose, by the
disappbintreent of hopes which he had
entertained from the hour he discovered
that I was a rich man.`
" You say that I knew you in London
some years ago," I said, "and that we had
confidential conversations together in this
plane, and that we two together plotted the
murder of my best friend? You admit that
you are a murderer, and you ask me to
believe that I am one, by desire and inten-
tion -and co-operation with you. I choose
to deny all your assertions ; I choose to say
that I never saw your face till you forced
your way into my London house. If you
persist in the tem of persecution which
you have been carrying on for the last six
weeks it will be my duty to hand you over
to the police, and it will be their duty to
discover whether you are a lunatic at large,
or whether you are really the man you pre-
tend to be, and the murderer of Robert
Hatrell. In the latter case there must be
people who can identify you. Some of those
witnesses at the inquest who saw the mur-
derer go in and out of the house in Den-
mark Street may still be within reach of a
subpoena. If you annoy me any further in
my own •house or out-of-doors it will be
needful for me to take this step, and you
may be sure I shall take it."
I had never been cooler than when I gave
him this answer. I had weighed and
measured the situation, and I did not be-
lieve he had power to harm me, be his
malignity what it might. My crime might
be evendarker than his, but he could not
touch my guilt with his little finger with-
out his whole body being drawn into the
meshes of the law. I knew that,and I could
afford to laugh at his fury. To
give him money, ware it so much
as a single sovereign, would be in
somawise to acknowledge his claim and to
establish a link between us. There should
be no such link. And over and above this
motive I abhorred the man, and his neces-
sities had no power to touoh my pity.
He could do me no harm, I thought;
nor could he, but for the' accident of my
son's crossing the top of the lane while
this man was with me, and having his
attention attracted by the strangeness of
the man's gestures as he talked to me.
The angry flourish of his arm as he poured
his rancor into my ear suggested a threat
of personal violence, and my son followed
us, in order to protect his father should
there be need of his interference. Once
within ear -shot, Cyril stayed his footsteps
and listened to the end of a savage recapi-
tulation of those suggestions of mine which
led to the scheme of the murder, and of
the sending of the telegram that furnished
the information which rendered the crime
possible.
He, my son, heard the history of my sin
—heard and believed. I stopped at the
end of the lane and looked round, Cyril
stood a few paces from me, deathly pale,
looking at me in terrible silence. Morel
turned and naw him stand there, almost at
the same mometit, and slunk aside.
"How dare you insult my father with
your lunatic ravings?" cried Cyril, lifting
hie stick threateningly. "Be off with you,
fellow !"
He pointed Londonward with his stink,
and Morel crept slowly along the dusty
road, leaving me face to
feta with
my
son
You dont believe—" e I began g ; but his
face told me that he did believe Morel's
story, and that nothing 1 could say would
undo the misohief that scoundrel's tongue
had done. The story of the telegram had
oondeinned me in my son's eyes ; and per-
haps too, my guilt was written upon my
brow, had been written there from the be-
ginning in characters that had deepened
with the passage of time. Oh, God 1 how
often sitting among you all; within the sound
of Daisy's innocent laughter, I have found
the burden of my guilt so intolerable, that I
have been tempted to cry my secret aloud
and make an end of my long agony ! Ant
now I saw all the horror of it reflected in
my son's agonized face as he told me that
he could never be Daisy's husband, that the
murderer's son -must not marry the victim's
daughter.
" Oh, how she would hate me," he cried,
"if, years after our marriage, she found she
had been' 'entrapped into such a loathesome
union 1"
He told me that he should leave
England at once, and forever. He
was not without pity for me, although
any crime and the passion that
prompted it lay beyond the region of his
thoughts. To him such a character as mine
was unthe,
He who
inkoouidablrenounce love
when honor
urged hits could not understand the love
that makes light of honor, truth, friend-
ship, all things for love's sake. Hie hap-
pier nature has never sounded that dark
depth.
Atte so we parted. I wanted him at
least to share my fortune. There was no
taint at the source of this. If he were to
begin a new life, I urged that he might as
well begin it with independence and coins
fort ; but he told me he could take nothing
from me, and he was resolute in his re-
fusal,
I am youngq enough to make my own
way in theworld," he told me. " Thews
and sinews must have their value some.
where,
And eo we parted, just touched fce•oold
hands, and parted forever.
Tun IDNn,
PRAGICAL FARMING.
.
A Windlass Quickly Constructed.
In driving a pipe well in nay basement a
stone was struck at the depth of 18 ft.,
bursting the pipe, writes Mr, F. Gorham,
I then wanted to withdraw the pipe, which
was very firmly imbedded, and tried ti iaay
devices without success. At last I hastily
constructed a windlass after the plan show*
in the illustration, which proved an excel-
lent
xcellent thing for the purpose. The plank o,
must be heavy and of good timber, a two
or three -in h oak one being deeirable.
Several strong scantlings will,bowever,ans-
wer as well as theplanit. Therollerfshould
be of good size atraightend stout, Let the
box h be a firm support, which lifts one
end of the plank several feet above the
other. The roller must be supplied with
the ohains si, which are equal length, and
fastened to the pipe d. The lever 0, is an
ordinary crowbar. The slant of the plank
will be sufficient to overcome the movement
of the roller up the incline as it is turned,
thus keeping it directly above the pipe.
force
Bya tremendous
this simple device
my be exerted and in a perpendicular
direction. ---
Hints to Beginners in Dairying.
The first thing the prospective dairyman
needs to have is cows, says a writer. Per-
haps he already has a few, if so, even
though they are not of the moat approved
dairy breed, a very good herd may in a few
years be had by buying at oncea thorough-
bred bull of the breed which you consider
best. Opinions differ as to this, but as for
me it would be a Guernsey, all things being
considered. By the use of such an animal
your heifer calves from common or native
cows will be a very great improvement upon
their mothers, and by following this grading
up for a few years a herd can be obtained
fully as good for practical purposes as the
bhoroughbred animals. This is a face
which is demonstrated upon many a farm
to -day.
If the beginner in dairying has the money
to invest he may buy as many blooded cows
as he pleases, but for the poor man, or one
who has not plenty of money, the first
method will no equally as well, for the
actual results stow that as thoroughbred
cows average the grades give us just as much
and as rich milk. For one whr, intends to
to sell stock of course the fall blood animals
would be necessary.
After the cows comes the care of them.
This should be the very beat, both as to
their comfort and as to their food.
Up to a certain limit the more
food a cow consumes the more profitable
she is to her owner, for it she is of the
true dairy type she will oonvert it into milk
and so into butter, If she is not of this
type she has no place in the dairy and
should be disposed of at once.
To the beginner the advice in regard to
grain foods is bewildering, but let him take
my word for it from my own experience
and pin his faith upon bran, wheat bran.
This fed with gluten meal gives best sat-
isfaction in our dairy, ,although corn meal,
crushed oats, linseed meal, roots, all are
good.
But whatever the feed, don't stint the
cows. 13e sure they have all the water
they want. This is very important, as well
as to give salt frequently, or better keep it
where the cows can help themselves to it.
Now that we have the oows, and have
attended to their food and care, let us look
at their stable. It must be warm. Building
paper is cheap, and nothing is inose effect-
ual in keeping out'cold. A shivering cow
can not make the best use of her food for
more of it will go to keep her warm than
ought to. Let the building paper do that.
It is cheaper than grain and hay. Cleanly
milking should need no reference here, but
may be mentioned, although any intellig-
ent man kuows that all filth of all kind is
to be kept out of the milk pail.
Now as to the manufacture of the butter.
While improved machinery in the shape of
separator, etc., may be convenient in some
respects, it is not at all essential to the
manufacture ofgood butter. A creamery,
ry,
or even the "shotgun" cans will, if plenty
of ice is used, get every particle of the
cream at much less expense. The only ob-
jection to the cans is that it is difficult to
get all the cream of the top of the inilk.
This objection is overcome in the creamery,
where the faucets parry off the two sep-
arately.
The cream must be ripened until slightly
thick, and churned at not higher than
sixty-two degrees, the butter -milk then
washed out from the granules with cold
water and the butter salted to the taste.
Once working is sufficient, all subsequent
working is an injury.
As to marketing. -Here is where the
question of profit or loss will be quickly
decided. If the grocery store receives it,
the chances are that it will be at no great
profit. The commission house offers not
much better inducement, for after paying
freight, cartage and commission the re-
mainder will not be very satisfactory, at
least such has been the experience of some
who have sold excellent butter in that way.
The way to get the most for butter is to
sell direct to consumers. It will pay the
beginner in dairying to put up some of his
best butter in attractive prints and go to
his nearest large town with them. A house
to house visitation, where his samples aro
displayed and tasted, will soon secure a
market for all he can supply at a good
price.
In a Lifetime.
A man wile lives to the limit of threo-
soore years and ten, if in fair health and
of average appetite, will have eaten in that
time about 13,000 pounds of meat, about
10,000 pounds of bread and vegetables,
about 25,000 eggs and 5,000 pounds of fish,
chicken and game. Ile will also have con-
sumer about 12,000 gallons of various
fluids, or enough to make a lake covering
four blocks in extent and two fent deep.
In other words, he will have eaton 14 tons
of solid and drank 300 barrels of liquid
refreshments.
11hiidren Cry for Pitcher's Gastorrs;
Bkod is,. - s
such as Scrofula and Anemia, Skizx eruptions and :Cale 'o
Sallow Complexions, are speedily cured by
Scott's Emulsion.
the Cream of pod -liver Gil. No otheri:ezn.-
edy so quickly and effectively enriches anti
purifies the blood and gives nourishment
to the whole system. It is pleasant to take
and easy on the stomach.
Thin, Enlaciataa Pol7sons and all
stli%ring from �(1 g gtillg Diseases are re-
stored to health by Scott's Emulsion.
Be sure you get the bottle with our
Tante MARK. trade -mark on it. Refuse cheap substitutes!
Strad for pamphlet on Scott's Emulsion. FREE.
Scott & Downs, Belleville. Ail druggists. 50c. and ' f.
r
EX- EMBER PARLIAM [NT
REUBEN E. TRUAX
Bon. Reuben E. Truax, one of
Canada's ablest thinkers and states-
men, a man so highly esteemed by
the people of his district that he was
honored with a seat in Parliament,
kindly furnishes us for publication
the following statement, which will
be most welcome to the public,
inasmuch as it is one in which all
will place implicit confidence. Mr.
Truax ,says :
"I have been for about ten years
very much troubled with Indigestion.
and Dyspepsia, have tried a great
many different kinds of patent
medicines, :rod have been treated by
a number of physicians and found
no benefit from them. I was recom-
mended to try e
the Great South
r
American Nervine Tonic. I obtained
a bottle, and I must say I found very
great relief, and have since taken two
more bottles, and now feel that I am
entirely free from Indigestion, and
would strongly recommend all my
fellow -sufferers from the disease to
give South American Nervine an
immediate trial. It will cure you.
".REUBEN E. TRUA X,
"'Walkerton, Ont."
It has lately been discovered that
certain Nerve Centres, located near
the base of the brain, control and
supply the stomach with the neces-
sary nerve force to properly digest
the food. When these Terve Csau-
tres are in any way deranged the
supply of nerve force is at once
diminished, and as a result the food
taken into the stomach is only
partially digested, and Chronic Indi-
gestion and Dyspepsia soon make
their appearance.
South American Nervine is as
prepared that it acts directly on the
nerves, It will absolutely cure every
case of Indigestion and Dyspepsia,
and is an absolute specific for all
nervous diseases and ailments.
It usually gives relief in one day.
Its powers to build up the whole
system are wonderful in the extreme.
It cures the old, the young, and the
middle-aged. It is a great friend to
the a
aged and infirm.Do not neglect
to use this precious boon ; if you do,
you may neglect the only remedy
which will restore you to health.
South American Nervine is. perfectly
safe, and very pleasent to the taste.
Delicate ladies, do not fail to use this
great cure, le cause it sill put tha
bloom of freshness and beauty upon
your lips and in your cheeks, acid
quickly drive away your disabilities
and weaknesses.
Dr. W. Washburn, of New
Richmond, Indiana, writes ; "I have
used South American Nervine in
my faeaily and prescribed it in
my practice. It is a most excellent
remed.v „
C. LUTZ 'Sole Wholesale and Retail Agent for Exeter.
Taos. Wlcics'rr, Crediton Drug Store, Agent
with a colicy baby or a coney stomach
isn't pleasant, Hither can be avoide
by keeping a bottle of Perry Davis'
PAIN KII',r i;R on the medicine shelf. It
is invaluable in sudden attacks of Cramps,
Cholera Morbus, Dysentery and Diarrhoea.
Just as valuable for all external pains.
Dosis..-.0neteaspopnfur In bait ,hiss of water or milk (war