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- "• THE MeHBHBY PI.AIlTOBAfclCR, MeHBffltY, HX. OR "SKY AN' GRASS" 8TNOP8IS.--Lured by Ma fouryear- old playmate, Jean Lane, j Frank Hall, aged el*, ventures on the forbidden wall of a dam. In a small Ontario town. He falls Into the water and Is saved from possible death by clinging to J#an'« outstretched arms. Next day Jean Informs him that because of their adventure of the day before he Is lt> duty bound to marry her. He agrees when they are "grownups." With Jean s brother John, also aped six, Frank begins school. Two years lat-r they are Joined by Jean and Frank's sister Marjorle. A little later Jean confides to Frank, In verse, her hope of some day bocoming "Mrs. Hall." He accepts the "propbsal." Frank Is fourteen when his mother die*. The boys are eighteen when John's father Is killed In an accident. CHAPTER II--Continued By ROBERT STEAD *--Author of Tbe Cow Puncher"1 WNUSerrlee Copyright bjr Robert Stead b- I need not follow the events of the next year or so further than to say that my father developed a habit of putting on his good clothes In the evening nnd brushing his shoes, and walking over to see whether Mrs. Lane might not nfeed some help with the affairs of the farm. Jack found me one evening In September cutting firewood In the uncleared portion of our farm up by the big pine. The sun was almost setting; It hung like a blood-red globe through an avenue of maple trees, and its slanting light struck the autumn foliage with a wizardry of color and beauty. Jack sat down on a log and when. I paused In my work he said, "You're too Industrious, Frank; If you are not careful you'll die rich. Come over here; I want to talk to you." I took a seat at his side' and for a minute or two he punched the earth witL a stick, as though uncertain how to open his subject. "I guess you're as much awake as I am, Frank," he said at length, "so yon know what's on the books." "You mean about my father?" I was going to add, "and your mother," but I stopped; someway It seemed out of place. But Jack filled It in,-- "And my mother." Then we both sat silent for awhile. "Has he said anything about it to you?" I ventured, "He hasn't mentioned -It to me." "No," said Jack. Thenr with one of his unexpected touches of humor, --"I'm not sure that he knows about It yet. But mother does." "Well, it's all right. Isn't It?" I said, after we had had our laugh. "Your mother has been pretty much a mother to Marjorle and me since our own left as. She's O. K. I'm sot complaining." "Neither am I," Jack agreed, "so far as they are concerned. But Just how about us? We've got to get out." "Why?" Jack tjurned hit full blue eyes on me with a sort of pity. "Do you think Marjorle is going to play second fiddle to a new mother? You don't know your sister, Frank." In a moment I knew he, was right. He had not asked me if I thought that Jack would play second fiddle to a new father, but that, too, mayt have been in his mind. "Weil, what are we to do about It r "Go West I" he said, emphatically. "Go West! I am beginning to think It's the only thing for a young fellow to do, anyway. What Is there here for us? Drudge away In the mill, seven to six, seven to six, seven to six, seven to six, week In, month In, year in; then, some day, caught on a shaft, and they stop the mill just long enough to untangle your remains. And that Is life! By G--d, Frank, it's not life--as I see it--as I'm going to see It!" I turned to him In surprise; It was the first time I had heard him use such an expression. His teeth were set; his thin lips were pressed together; his eyes were big and luminous in the twilight; his pose was a picture of resolution, even of defiance. All unknown to me, Jack Lane had become a man, and his exclamation had had more of prayer than of profanity in It Presently he continued: "We can .go out to that new country, west of Manitoba, and take up a homestead each. In a few years we will have land enough to make a dozen of these Ontario farms. Othei* are doing it-- so can we. And it won't be so hard for us. The worst thing, usually, Is the loneliness; holding It down In a •hack, three years or more, all by one's self. But we can get claims beside each otker, and, although we'll have to have separate shacks, the girls will keep house for us, so It won't be sb bad." He had touched on something which bad already come Into my mind. "Will the girls go?" I questioned. "Frank." he said, and again he, seemed to speak from some superior wisdom of his own, "those girls will go with us anywhere we ask them-- anywhere!" • • . e e • » • When I laid the proposal before Marjorle, she listened with a complacency which suggested that the Idea was not entirely new to her. "I will go and keep honse for you," she said, frankly, "if Jack and Jean go too." It was Sunday "afternoon before I bad an opportunity to speak to Jean. She was seventeen now, and my wonting eyes had of late beheld her trim nuhnese giving w*, to the first entrancing curves of womanhood Her light step, her grace of motion, her m dear, pink skin, her sensitive Hps half parted over rows of well-formed teeth, her eyes large and dreamful all whispered in some vague way in the ears of my boyhood that Jean wai not as other girls; whispered of Jean the artist--Jean the idealist! Jean bad not gone into the mill with the other girls of her age; she had continued longer at school.,and then had taken ap the study of music. Among the Umbo of personalities which drifts Into the by waters of little towns, she had found, too, an artist; a man apparently of talent, who had sought the seclusion of our little milling center in Ontario for reasons which were his own. He had immediately recognized the artistic strain in the girl and had bent his own genius to call it forth with no thought of reward other than the Joy of seeing It grow. "You are wonderful, Miss Lane," he hiad said, after the first few lessons. •'You have perspective and proportion, which are the greatest things in life." "I think I am a very stupid pupU," Jean had murmured In answer. "Ychi are very patient with me--and all for nothing." "For nothing I You leave me your debtor I You pay me a thousand times! You have giv^n back to , me a purpose in life--an excuse for being alive I Ah, Miss Lane, you dp not know--yet-- how empty a life can be. But you are an artist and some day you will dip your brush in pain--perhaps In sorrow and regret--und after that you will paint. It is the law." Jean told me these things that Sunday afternoon, and asked me if I knew what he meant. I did not; but I knew the artist had given Jean an Instant's glimpse into life, and It was none the easier for me to suggest the loneliness of a homestead "somewhere west of Manitoba." "Do you think yon. could dip your brush In--in the Saskatchewan?" I ventured. ' "I know," she said, simply. "Jack has told me. I will go, If you--and Marjorle--go." It seemed to me that thjfv' reference to Marjorle came almost as a second thought; at any rate, I flattered myself with <hat Idea. We had no difficulty in persuading my father and Mrs. Lane to fall In with our Ideas; in fact, they accepted our plan with some enthusiasm. Father even insisted upon selling one of tlW farms and giving the proceeds to establish ourselves in the West. It was little enough, as we were to learn In due course, but Jack and I had also saved something of our earnings, and during this particular fall and winter we were unusually penuriqua. "Nail down every dollar," said jack, and we all were busy with our nailing. * We prepared to start for the West about the end of April, and, as it came about, my father and Mrs. Lane arranged a domestic event on the very day of our departure. The affair was quiet and unpretentious; ceremony In the church at eleven, and dinner at Mrs. Lane's--Mrs. Hall's, I should say --where Marjorle and Jean served, and we all tried to live In a joyous glow which was strangely shot through with streaks of unhappiness: That night at six we left for the West. After two days and two nights we passed through Winnipeg. It was in the gray of dawn, and we did not get off, but through the window we caught a glimpse of lines of lights down a wide and winding street. Daylight saw us on the prairies; not $i$ie "baldheaded," to be sure, but the well settled country of the Portage plains, where industry was already fructifying in trim houses and barns, and orderly, well-kept farms. And yet here and there was now the unbroken sweep of the prairies, and our eyes daneed--something caught our color In the richest mauve's and crimsons, and long ribbons In the west floating like golden Islands In a sea of amber, caught the glow and silently uhfoided a glory of pink and yellow and orange and crimson and burnished brass. I turned to look at Jean. She sat by the window where the yellow light blocked out her fine profile against the drab background of the car, and mingled In the richer yellow of ber hair. And her blue eyes were all a-gllsten, as the long, fine lashes drooped and rose and drooped and rose. And In the corner of her eye I saw a little pearl gather and grow until, unrestrained, It stole across her cheek. "Regina!" shouted Jack; "Reglna I" springing to his feet and beginning to gather up our effects, for we had agreed that this should be the base of our search for land. We were ready to disembark by the time the train had come to a atop, and our first glimpse of the prairie city was tbfet of buildings silhouetted against a saffron sky, and wide streets and open spaces and the foundation work of the metropolis that was to be. » < CHAPTER III Jack nnd I were early about In the morning, intent upon making our prospecting arrangements. We asked a casual question of an early morning lounger at a livery stable--some of these fellows seemed to get up at daylight for the express purpose of lounging-- and he flung 'his voice over his shoulder'Into the recesses of the barn. "Jake!" he called; "two guys here to see yuh." Jake was evidently feeding his horses, for we heard the rustle of hay and caught a whiff of Its fragrance, but presently he came stumping down the main thoroughfare between the stalls. He was a shopman with an over-developed waistline--quite the opposite of the lean and lanky Westerner our imaginations had been picturing. "Well," he said, bringing his weight to a poise on his pudgy feet, and scrutinizing us closely . through shrewd, half-closed eyes. "You fellows lookln' fer land?" ^'That's what," said Jack," who was already beginning to pick up some of the direct vernacular of the West. "We want a man who knows the country to show us about." "I'm your gazabo," said Jake. "I know every badger hole from Estevan to Prince Albert. I know every patch of stinkweed from Areola to Swift Current. I've druv this country till there ain't a coyote between Montana an' the Saskatch'wan river but knows the rattle o' my bone-shaker. You boys hit luck with your first throw-- runnln' Into me like this." Then, with a sharp squint through his calf-closed eyes, and dropping his voice to a confidential note, "How much money you got?" "Enough," said Jack, "but nope to waste. What are your rates?" Jake seemed to be turning a problem heavily in his mind. "I like you fellows," be said at length, "and I make you a special price. Usual I get seven dollars a day an' found fer drlvin', an' fifty dollars for locatin.' That's fer each gent. Now I calls you two boys one gent an' makes you the same price--seven bones an' a grubstake ' whether we lilt oil or not, an fifty plunks extra if we do. An' we will. No question about that I know two claims that's jus' slttln' up an' yelpln' fer you lads to come along." We withdrew and talked the matter over for a few minutes. In spite of Jake's unprepossessing appearance and boastful language there was something appealing about him. We returned presently with our minds made up. "We'll take your offer, Mr.--" Jack commenced. "Jake," he Interrupted. "No mister." "All right, Jafce, we'll take your offer. When do we start, what do we take, and where do we go?" Jake looked Interrogatively at the morning sun. Then, "Had breakfast?" he demanded. "No." . "Well, fill up. You must be feelln* pretty well bored out after your trip. I'll start get the outfit together. I got a team of buckskins that's tougher than Little Eva i.i an Uncle Tom's Cabin show, an' a democrat boneshaker that scuds across the prairie Jlke the shadow of a cloud." (He had Ills poetic turns, had Jake). "I got a preparations that would not spoil In the heat. The democrat was a twoseated affair, and the tent and supplies were bundled on behind, or laid in the bottom. We noted that Jake added a rifle to the equipment Then we started off, Jack In the front seat with the driver, and I alone behind. During the day we discovered that our guide was something of a philosopher. He had many shrewd remarks to make about Immigrants, and homesteaders, and the business of settling up a country. It appeared that he had no very regular scale for his services. This came out In his account of the location of a young Englishman whom he described as Mr. Spoof. "He had a carload of baggage," said Jake, with Western extravagance of language, "and when I suggested that he start up a second-hand clothing Vm "I Will Go and Keep House for You," She Said Frankly, "If Jack and Jean Go, Too." breath as we tried to Imagine w.hat they meant. We knew what It was for men to spend their lives In clearing ten, twenty, or forty acres, but here lay a kingdom fresh from the hand of God and ready for the plow. And a piece of that kingdom In the still farther West--320 acres of that kingdom --was to be ours I "And as much more as I can buy from year to year," said Jack, as though picking up the thread of our thoughts, his face alive with enthusiasm. "Boyl" he said, banging me on the knee, "there's no limit; there's no limit 1" I clasped his hand in mine with a pressure that told more than words. All that day we continued through the prairies, with here and there a belt of scrubland to cut across the vision. All that day we rambled more and more in the field of fancy--happy itaarg\iftn%s of the thiugs we would do with those fWfrTBTJtmtt* which iay out there, somewhere to TnS*-2,<!i*twiw<i waiting only to be claimed. evening came on we watched our n prairie sunset. There were no quick dusk and darkness, as in the East; the sun hung long In the western sky, and as it descended swung steadily to the northward. As it fell feather-like ruffles \of cloud almost overhead burst to tent, but you'll need your own blankets. After breakfast we'll go over to a store an' buy a lay-out o' grub." "How long will we be away?" "Well, nat'rally we have to figger on driving out a good spell. Ain't no free land nowhere close to a city, a C-Ir-T-Y"--he spelled It out, with a whimsical mixture of pride and ridicule--" like this. Now I've a spot In my mind I thlnk'U suit you boys right down the calf of the leg. It'll take us about three days to go, an' a day to look it over, an' three days to come back, which knocks the hell out o' a week, don't it? An' It might be longer." "You See, we have our sisters here. We have to give them some Idea--' "SlBtersl" Jake exclaimed, evidently in some panic. "They ain't goln' along?" "No. They'll stay here until we get settled." "That's all right, then," said Jake. visibly relieved. "Well, you tell 'em a week or ten days." We related the morning's transactions to the girls, who accepted the situation with resignation, as it had been agreed that they would stay in Reglna while we did our prospecting. They would at once set about to find cheaper L lodgings, or a couple of rooms where *A»t Right, Jake, We'll Take Your Offer. When^ Do We •tart- Md Where Do We Go?" store he said, 'Ah, I'm afraid you're spoofln' me.' S<^ I named him Mr. - Spoof, an' he gets ©ail now addressed that way." Jake turned In to a farm place In mid-afternoon for water. We could sea the farmer seeding in his field; he made no stop on our account, and if he had a wife she remained indoors. We pumped as much water as the horses would drink, and filled our water keg, and then sat for a while In the shade o 1 one of his buildings, chewing at straws and gazing Into the blank distance. There was a supreme satisfaction, a fine relaxation and relief, in idling In such an hour. I was impressed with the off-hand way In which we seemed to have taken possession of the man's farm, and his complete Indifference to our presence. Jake pulled his team out from the side of a haystack, where they had been feeding with as little conoern as if the hay were their own, and presently wo rattled off down the trail aguir. On account of our afternoon rest Jake drove until almost sundown. We were now in a slightly rolling country, and suddenly be swung from the trail and pulled up on the top of a little knoll. From this little vantage point we could see the unbroken aweep of the prairies, miles and miles In every direction. "Is this the bald-headed?" I asked In a low voice, as though touching on something almost sacred. "This Is the bald-headed," he answered, solemnly. "See, everywhere, sky an' grass--sky an* grass. Ah, there, there's an exception." I followed the line of his extended arm. Far across the plains I saw a flashing light, as of a heliograph. "The window of a settler's shanty, twenty miles from here, if It's a foot," he explained. "Look how green the grass Is. The evenin' light makes It that way, somehow." It was true. The grass had taken a deeper shade of green with the light falling aslant across it. The sun hung like a yellow ball In a sky of champagne, and the long shadows of our horses and wagon streached down the slope of the little hill. But most impressive of all was the silence, a silence as of heaven and earth brooding, brooding, brooding over this scene as they had done from the dawn of time; eye, and before that, far into the vague aeons of eternity. ... I wished that Jean might have been there. We made our camp on the hill, if we can be said to have made camp at all. Jake found a little slough (pronounced slew) of snow water not far away, and he unharnessed his horses and hobbled them nearby. I was fussing with the tent when he returned. "We won't need that, son," and I thought there was a note almost of affection in his voice that made me warm to the man. "It couldn't rain tonight on a bet. Clean out the wagon an' you two boys sleep on the floor of it. You get the benefit o' the springs that way, an' it's dryer'n the ground." But where will yon sleep?" "Oh, I'll roll up somewhere, an old-timer." Jake gathered some dry grass and btiffalo chips and out. of an astonishingly little fire he soon had the tea boiling. Then he fried bacon and laid the strips of hot bacon on slabs of bread. And we ate bacon and bread, and then jam and bread, and drank hot black tea, while the slow twilight settled down about os. e e e e # • • When daylight came we bad breakfast and started on our Journey again. The day was much the same as the one before, except that we were now well out on "the bald-headed." Once in a while, at great distances, we could see a homesteader's shack, a little Isolated sentinel box of the vanguard of settlement. Once we were Intercepted by another team and democrat, much like our own, which cut across our trail. The driver asked If we could spare any water. We gave him half of what was In our keg, and he extended his plug of chewing tobacco all round. We chatted a few minutes, and then with mutual friendly shouts and waving of our arms we were off again. We camped that night by a Stream of which Jake knew, because there was little water on the prairies, even at the first of May. Next day we drove all day, and later into the evening than usual; It was quite dark when we stopped. "This Is the place," Jake said, "but you can't see It tonight. Have a good sleep and we'll size 'er. up in the mornin'." ' _ We tried to eat breakfast without concern, but we were hurried and nervous, and eager to see how our judgment would tally with Jake's. On the road he had tried to explain to us the system of survey, and we had a general Idea of It in our heads. Now he took a township map from his pocket and showed us In detail where we were. "This Is us," he said, pointing with a thick, stubby finger, "right on the northwest quarter o' Fourteen. Immedjut west of us Is a road allowance, runnln' norttf an' south. Immedjut west of that again Is section Fifteen, which is railroad land, an' can't be took up free. But Immedjut northwest, cornerin' right against this quarter, 'cept fer the road allowance, is the southeast quarter of Twenty-two, which Is open. Now these two quarters, northwest Fourteen an' southeast Twenty-two, is as good as any land that lays out o' doors, an' better than most. There's A bit of a gully here-- you'll see It in a minute--runs down from the northeast an' cuts off to the southwest, an' runs right between these two quarters. There's springs In the gully somewhere, an' runnln' water practical the year round, an' shelter fer stock an' all that kind o' thing, an' you get the benefit of it all, an' it don't - take two acres olTn your land. It's a plumb paradise an' you can't beat It nowhere." "How far is it to a railroad " Jack asked. "Plumb down that road allowance, thirty-two miles, straight as the crow files, when It ain't slttln'." he threw In with a little snicker. "Thirty-two miles 1" Jack exclaimed. "Pretty well in the wilderness, isn't It?" "Wilderness nothln' 1 This Is suburban prop'rty. This Is close In. I take some of 'em back sixty an' seventy an' eighty miles. Thirty-two miles Is Jus* right, an' I'll tell you why. When a new railroad comes Its likely to come about thirty miles from the other; that's about a sensible distance apart An' here you are, in the middle of the right-of-way, an' may be cuttin' your homestead into town lots; ten lots to an acre an' two hundred dollars a lot Can you beat It? The Lord sure has been good to yon, fer no special reason that I can notice. 'Tain't your good looks an' 'tain't your good sense, excep' In selectln' me as your financial advisor, go to speak. I reckon it's all account o' those girls--sisters, you DADDY'S EVENING FAIRY TALE &Mary Graham Bonner 0r tfimufMntammmar RACCOON'S INTELLIGENCE "We've been asked to tell our story," said Daddy Raccoon. "Many people may know It, or they may know what we have to tell them. "But perhaps they won't mind hearing our story again, or rather hear* Ing of our ways once more. "We won't tell our story in Just the same way, and I have heard people say the same thing more than once--In perhaps a slightly different way. "For Instance I have heard one little girl say five times now that she loved candy. "Well, we are supposed to be Intelligent." "Supposed to be?" repeated Mother Raccoon. "Why Daddy Raccoon, what makes you say such a thing? "We are intelligent. We most certainly are. We're not simply 'supposed to be Intelligent.' We are Intelligent" "Ah," said Daddy RaCcoon, "you did not let me finish what I had to say." "That Is different** • said Mother Raccoon. I really should have known enough to let you finish. "I should have known, too, that yotl were not through speaking. *"' "Dear me, If I say such things In a hurry again I will feel that I am not Intelligent after all. 'I might have known yon weren't through speaking," she ended. "Yes, what I was going to say-- part of which I did say--was that we were supposed to be intelligent and what I was about to add was that we were and are intelligent." Mother Raccoon looked her agreement. "There are some creatures," Daddy Raccoon continued, "who are supposed to be what they are not "Some are supposed to be quite bad when there Is a great deal of good In them. •'Some are supposed to be be very good and there Is really a lot of meanness In them. "Some are supposed to be very clever and they realty arent at all. "They have only been able to fool others for a time. "But it is nice to be considered Intelligent and bright and to feel that It is all quite true. "For we ased to be considered bright when we lived in the forests. "But we didn't feel sure of It until ALL OVER BODY Mrs. Proctor Reports Greit Benefit by Taking Lydia & Compound said." y Plenty of elbow-room here, "far from the madding crowd." Will they have the courage to homestead? a Sharpsburg, Pa.--"I recommeftd Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Con* pound to all suffering women. I have takes four bottles of it and I feel 100 per cent better. I was dizsy and weak with no appetite, no ambition ana with a tired feeling all the time. I had aches and pain* all over my body and had the headache a good deal. I saw your advertisement fn the "Pittsburgh Press' and thoughtit might help me. I have been greatly benefited by its use and highly reconK mend it for all ailments of women.'"-* Mrs. J. H. PROCTER, BOX 1, East Lib* erty Station, Pittsburg, Pa. Such letters prove the great merit of the Vegetable Compound. These women know by experience the benefit they have received. Their letters show a sincere desire to help other women suffer ing from like ailments. Let these experiences help you--now. In a recent canvass of women purchasers, 98 out of every 100 report beneficial results by taking Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Compound. Sold Iff druggists everywhere. i; ECZEMA Dries right up! If you just realized how easy it is tff stop fiery, itching, burning eczema by simply building up the red-blood-cdte in your blood with S. S. S., yon wouldn't waste another minute trying to do it any other way. That's the only way to relieve irrl» tated, broken out skin of any sort. Yoa lack rich, red blood. Impurities are in your system. Tho blood is so weak it can't fight back and overcome the en? emy, so the impurities break out through the skin. S. S. S. builds the blocd bacfc^ builds millions of new retf-blood-cells. Eczema dries right up. Boils, pimplev blackheads, ugly blotches and irritating rashes all disappear. Clear up your skin. Get S. S. S. All druggists sell it. The larger bottle ia more economical* coui(j keep house; they insisted them of their The to .. , «re quite able to shift for " would leave word .„ n'nn,m ttt n wu« Wen (tonh.o kte-l . ,1 I finished our * (TO BB CONTINUED.) The Fly Flew An art critic, speaking of the virtues of this painting and the faults of that one, finally came to a picture in the gallery and said: "Now, you see in this picture the artist .has not learned his trade--It lacks technique and understanding. His trees seem to have no form; they do not stand up; the grass has no roots. His clouds look like bits of paper stuck on the canvas. And here you see he has resorted to a trick to catch the public eye and has attempted, to paint a fly. Now, I would not object to the fly, had he been able to draw better and make It lo^»k like a fly. This fly looks like a lump of mud and has not the character of a fly." At this point the fly, having tired ot the critic's rambling, took wing §n<l flew away. Straining the tanjgnMf Twentieth-century advances are putting a severe strain on' the language. For instance the New York Commercial speaks of "launching" a $10,000,- 000 air route.--Chicago News. Must Risk Life to Look From Mountain \ Do you know that the weather is manufactured on a huge rock on Lookout mountain, Chattanooga, Tenn. and not at Medicine Hat or Washington as we have always supposed? The weather rock Is a giant slab of peculiar shape projecting from the mountain top far over the green valley 2,900 feet below. It Is necessary to crawl out on bands and knees to look over the edge, but the view is well worth the peril. Farms, villages, white highways, wooded hills and winding rivers are so far below the adventurous spectator that the country looks like a flat • map done In emerald and silver, much time we lis [ our "grub," \ HD aln>lane- 11 ,ake* and bought canned goods and oUmt \I tbJr.iitni mainly and a clear and steady peer writ the dizzy verge, even lying flat on one's stomach--a tfmple slip means certain death, as there Is not so much as a blade of grass to hold on by, only the smooth gray rock and l^pse pebbles, which roll at a touch and give one the sickening sensation of sliding toward the edge, Consiatent Robinson was well known in the club as a vegetarian. The members were hardly surprised, therefore, when his friend Jones burst into the billiard room one evening and announced: "Robinson has been true to his vegetarian principles." "What's he done now?" they asked "Haven't you heardt He's ran *«•# with a gtass widow." That's Good," Said the Little Raoooons. we heard the keeper telling some people that we were very Intelligent. "Then you and I and all of us felt it surely was true--Just as we had thought and hoped for a long time. "If the keeper says so, with all he knows about animals In general and us in particular, It must be so." "That's good," said the little Raccoons. They were sitting upon the dead branches of a very tall tree.' "We like corn and we had nice cori« last summer, and the keeper says we will have it once more the coming summer. "It's nice to have a treat like that In tfie summer." "There," said Daddy Raccoon da» Hghtedly, "that shows intelligence, too. "When we are free we love com and hunt for it, and these little raccoons love it Just the same and haven't lost their taste for it because they have always lived in the zoo. "They never lived anywhere els®, but they have the good taste for coi* "If they weren't Intelligent they would Hot care for corn so much. Tba love of corn Is bred In them--it is part of their intelligence." But the keeper knew that it waf more than their love of corn whlcJi made them Intelligent and bright. Ha thought-highly of their intelligence. Something Warming With the thermometer dlar zero one early morning last winter, a Chicago man who directs the operation of a score of newsboys considered It a good idea to give the boys some food to help them combat the cold. So he invited them all Into a restaurant "Now order what you want," he told them, "so you'll be able to keep warm when you go out on the street And every mother's son of them ordered htr cream,--Somebody's Msgssine. * Ha* Anyone Tried f High School--Have you read T* • Field Mouse"? Grade School--No, how do yon get 'em to listen? ** Maybe Thafe Right $feacher--Which would you prefer, half an orange or 18-36ths? Pupil--Half! Teacher (sarcastically)--Wbf WOOld yon prefer half? Pupil--Because If yon gave me l8-36ths I should loae nearly all the Juice I--Zagreb Pilule. - ; f Bright B*jjr Grandmother--Johnny t WOUldnH jtflde down those stairs, jtohnfty--I kno# ft. To« couldn't "A God-tent Blessing" Is what one mother w r i t e s of Mrs. Winslow's Syrup. Thousands of other mothers have found this safe, pleasant effective remedy a boon when baby's little stomach is upset For constipation, flatulency, colic and _ diarrhoea, there is nothing like MRS.WINS LOW'S SYRUP Tit /•?«*»' mmi CkiUrm'i *•-»•!>» It is especially good at teething time. Complete formula on every label. Guaranteed free from narcotics, opiates, alcohol and all harmful ingredients. At all Oroffiitl Write for free booklet of letters from grateful mothers. ANGLO-AMEMCAM DRUG CO. 21S-217 Fakaa St. K«wTork onignt Tomorrow Alright Your atay neat and comfortable USKIDE TOPLIFTS ASl YOUR BEPAIHMAS United Ststtt fMbtr Company Output of Stocking» One stocking for every person In the United States Is manufactured In one month; 56,636.052 pairs were manufactured In June, 1925, of which 15,960,448 were silk and 24,354,768 cotton. Sweet clover, once considered a troublesome weed. Is now extensively planted as a valuable soil Improver and a fixer of atmospheric nitrogen. Sure Relief BELL-ANS Hot water Sure Relief ELLANS FOR INDIGESTION 25<t and 75$ PM&Sold Everywhere ICuticura Talcum Unadulterated Exquisitely Scented INDiGEST'0*