The Hennessey Clipper (Hennessey, Okla.), Vol. 25, No. 35, Ed. 1 Thursday, February 4, 1915 Page: 3 of 10
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THE CLIPPER. HENNESSEY. OKLAHOMA.
The Call of the
Cumberlands'
By Charles Neville Buck
With Illustrations
from Photographs of Scenes
in the Play
(Copyright, toiB. by W. J. Watt & Co.)
SYNOPSIS.
On Misery creek Sally Miller finds
Oeoriff - Lt'si'ott, a landscape painter, un-
cons.-ions. Jesse Purvy of the Hollman
elan lias been shot and Samson Is sus-
pected of the crime. Samson denies It.
The shooting breaks the truce in the
lloilmari-South feud. Lescott discovers
artistic ability in Samson. Samson
Ihratslu'H Tamarack Spicer and denounc es
)iim <ts the "truce-buster" who shot Purvy.
Samson tells the South clan that he is
going to leave the mountains. Lescott
Koes home to New York. Samson bids
Spi< • r and Sally farewell ami follows. In
New York Samson studies art and learns
muc h of city ways Drennle Lescott per-
suades Wilfred Horton, her dilettante
lover, to do a man's work in the world.
Prompted by her love, Sally teaches her-
jeelf t( write. Horton throws himself into
the business world and becomes well
hated by predatory financiers and polltl-
icians. At a Bohemian resort Samson
meets William Furbish, sporty social par-
asite. and Morton's enemy. Farbish con-
Ispires with others to make Horton jeal-
ous. and succeeds Farbish brings Horton
land Samson together at the Kenmore
club's shooting lodge, and forces an open
rupture, expecting Samson to kill Horton
.and so rid the political and financial thugs
«.f tl e crusader. Samson exposes the plot
iand thrashes the conspirators.
CHAPTER XI—Continued.
"George Lescott brought me up here
Hind befriended me. Until a year ago
1 had never known any life except
lliat of the Cumberland mountains.
Until I met Miss Lescott, I had never
known a woman of your world. She
was good to me. She saw that in
spite of my roughness and ignorance I
wanted to learn, and she taught me.
You chose to misunderstand, and dis-
liked me. These men saw that, and
'believed that, if they could make you
insult me, they could make me kill
you. As to your part, they succeeded.
;] didn't see tit to oblige them, but,
bow that I've settled with them, I'm
(willing to give you satisfaction. Do
we light now and shake hands after-
ward, or do we shake hands without
lighting?"
Horton stood silently studying the
mountaineer.
"Good God!" lie exclaimed at last.
w'And you are the man I undertook to
(criticize!"
"You ain't answered my question,"
teuggested Samson South.
"South, if you are willing to shake
ihands with me I shall be grateful. 1
Imay as well admit that, if you had
(thrashed me before that crowd, you
■could hardly have succeeded in mak-
|lng me feel smaller. 1 have played
'into their hands. I have been a damned
|fool. I have riddled my own self-
Irespect—and if you can afford to ac-
cept my apologies and my hand I am
offering you both."
"I'm right glad to hear that," said
the mountain boy, gravely. "I told
(you I'd just as lief shake hands as
light. . . But just now I've got to
go to the telephone."
The booth was in the same room,
«nd, as Horton waited, he recognized
the number for which Samson was
"calling. Wilfred's face once more
'flushed with the old prejudice. Could
lit be that Samson meant to tell Adrl-
enne Lescott what had transpired?
\Vas he, after all, the braggart who
[boasted of his tights? And, if not,
rwas it Samson's custom to call her
(up every evening for a good-night
Jnessage? He turned and went into
the hall, but, after a few minutes, re-
turned.
"I'm glad you liked the show . .
Ithe mountaineer was saying. "No,
nothing special is happening here—
(except that the ducks are plentiful.
I. . . Yes, I like it fine. . . . Mr.
[Morton's here. Wait a minute—I
guess maybe he'd like to talk to you."
The Kentuckian beckoned to Hor-
ton. and, as he surrendered the re-
ceiver. left the room. He was think-
ing with a smile of the unconscious
Jiumor with which the girl's voice had |
just* come across the wire:
"I knew that if you two met each
other you would become friends."
"1 reckon," said Samson, ruefully,
'when Horton joined him, "we'd better
[look around and see how bad those
Heretofore his Instructors had neld
him rigidly to the limitations of black
and white, but now they took off the
bonds and permitted him the colorful
delight of attempting to express him-
self from the palette. It was like pei-
mitting a natural poet to leave prose
and play with prosody.
One day Adrienne looked up from a
sheaf of his very creditable landscape
studies to inquire suddenly:
"Samson, are you a rich man or a
poor one?"
He laughed. "So rich," he told her,
"that unless I can turn some of this
stuff into money within a year or two
I shall have to go back to hoeing
corn."
She nodded gravely.
"Hasn't it occurred to you," she
demanded, "that in a way you are
wasting your gifts? They were talk-
ing about you the other evening—sev-
eral painters. They all said that you
should be doing portraits."
The Kentuckian smiled. His mas-
ters had been telling him the same
thing. He had fallen in love with art
through the appeal of the skies and
hills. He had followed its call at the
proselyting of George Lescott, who
painted only landscape. Portraiture
seemed a less artistic form of expres-
sion. He said so.
"That may all be very true," she
conceded, "but you can go on with
your landscapes and let your por-
traits pay the way. And," she added,
"since 1 am very vain and moderately
rich, I hereby commission you to
paint me, just as soon as you learn
how."
Farbish had simply dropped out. Bit
by bit the truth of the conspiracy had
leaked, and he knew that his useful-
ness was ended and that well-lined
pocketbooks would no longer open to
his profligate demands.
Kor a moment she said nothing.
then shook her head again.
"Issue your orders," he insisted. "1
am waiting to obey."
She hesitated again, then said,
slowly:
"Have '•our hair cut. It's the one
unci\ili7 *d thing about you."
as
I or nn instant Samson's face hard ' must hav<
elied. j Urother Spencer acting merely
">o," he said; "I don't care to do j amanuensis. They, too. had repudi
theV
'Oh, very well!" she laughed lightly.
tice. His own people had cast hira i gave Aurienuo carte blanch* to browec
out They had branded him the | among his portfolios and stacked can-
deserter; they felt no need of him or vases until his return In a few min-
his counsel. Very well, let them have 1 utes she discovered one of those ei
It so. His problem had been settled lorts which she called his "rebellious
! lor him. His Gordian knot was cut. | pictures."
Sally and his uncle alone had his These were such things as he paint
j address This letter, casting him out, j ed. using no model except memory
'in that event, of course, you shouldn't
do it." But her smile faded, and after
a moment he explained:
"You see, it wouldn't do."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that I've got to keep some-
thing as It was to remind me of a prior
claim on my life."
For an instant the girl's face cloud-
ed and grew deeply troubled.
"You don't mean," she asked, with
an outburst of interest more vehement
than she had meant to show, or real-
ized she was showing—"you don't
mean that you still adhere to ideas of
the vendetta?" Then she broke off
authorized by them, perhaps, not for the making of finished
pictures, but merely to give outlet to
his feelings; an outlet which some
men might have found in talk
This particular canvas was roughly
j blocked in, and it was elementally
' simple, but each brush stroke had
nted him—and. if that were true, ex-
cept for the graves of his parents,
the hills had no tie to hold him.
"Sally, Sally!" he groaned, dropping
his face on his crossed arms, while been thrown against the surface with
his shoulders heaved in au agony of the concentrated tire and energy of a
heartbreak, and his words came in the | blow, except the strokes that had
old. crude syllables: "1 'lowed you'd painted the face, and there the brush
with a laugh, a rather nervous laugh, j jng tQ cros8 the ocean but his hurt
Of course not, she answered her- | prj(j,. forbade his pleading for h«r ron-
had seemed to kiss the canvas. The
J plpture showed a barefooted girl,
standing, in barbaric simplicity of
dress, in the glare of the arena, while
a Raunt lion crouched eyeing her. Her
head was lifted as though she wero
| listening to faraway music In the
eyes was indomitable courage. That
canvas was at once a declaration of j
J love, and a miserere. Adrienne set |
brief note, telling her that he was go- it up beside her own portrait, and, as I
site studied the two with her chin rest-
Lelieve in me ef hell froze'." He rose
after that, and made a tierce gesture
with his clenched lists. "All right."
he said, bitterly, "I'm shet of the lot
of ye. I'm done!"
But It was easier to say the words
of repudiation than to cut the ties
that were knotted about his heart
With a rankling soul, the mountain-
eer left New York He w rote Sally a
self. "That would be too absurd!" ;
"Would it?" asked Samson, simply.
He glanced at his watch. "Two mln- |
utes up," he announced. "The model
will please resume the pose. By the
way, may I drive with you tomorrow
afternoon?"
The next afternoon Samson ran up
tideiu.c1, or adding, "I love you." He
plunged into the art life of the "other
side of the Seine," and worked vora-
ciously. He was trying to learn
much—and to forget much.
One sunny afternoon when Samson
had been in the Quartier Latin for
iglit or nine months the concierge of
Ing on her gloved hand, her eyes
cleared of questioning. Now she knew
what she missed In her own more
beautiful likeness. It had been paint-
ed with all the admiration of the mind
The other had been dashed otT straight
from the heart and this other was
Sally! She replaced the sketch where
she had found it, and Samson return
ing found her busy with little sketches
of the Seine.
Sally had started to school. She
had not announced that she meant to
do so, but each day the people of Misery
saw her old sorrel mare making its
way to and from the general direction
of Stagbone college, and they smiled.
No one knew how Sally's cheeks
flamed as she sat alone on Saturdays
and Sundays on the rock at the back-
bone's rift. She was taking her place,
morbidly sensitive and a woman of
eighteen, among little spindle-shanked
girls in short skirts, and the little
girls were more advanced than she.
Hut she, too, meant to have 'i'arnin' "—
as much of it as was necessary to sat-
isfy the lover who might never come.
And yet, the "fotched-on" teachers at
the "college" thought her the most
voraciously ambitious pupil they had
ever had, so unflaggingly did she toil,
and the most remarkably acquisitive,
so fast did she learn. But her studies
had again been interrupted, and Miss
Grover, her teacher, riding over one
day to find out why her prize scholar
had deserted, met in the road an
empty "jolt wagon," followed by a
ragged cortege of mounted men and
women, whose faces were still lugu-
brious with the effort of recent
mourning. Her question elicited the
information that they were returning
from the "buryin' " of the Widow Mil-
ler.
Towards the end of that year Sam-
son undertook hie portrait of Adri-
enne Lescott. The work was nearing
completion, but it had been agreed
that the girl herself was not to have
a peep at the canvas until the painter
was ready to unveil it in a finished
condition. Often, as she posed, Wil-
fred Horton idled in the studio with
them, and often George Lescott came
to criticize, and left without criticiz-
ing. The Kirl was impatient for the
day when she, too, was to see the pic-
ture, concerning which the three men
maintained so profound a secrecy. She
knew that Samson was a painter who
analyzed with his brush, and that his
picture would show• her not only fea-
tures and expression, but the man's
estimate of herself.
"Do you know," he said one day;
coming out from behind his easel and
studying her, through half-closed eyes,
"I never really began to know you un-
til now? Analyzing you—studying you
in this fashion, not by your words, but
by your expression, your pose, the
very unconscious essence of your per-
sonality—these things are illuminat-
ing."
"Although I am not painting you,"
she said with a smile, "I have been
studying you, too. As you stand there
before your canvas your own person-
ality is revealed—and 1 have not been
entirely unobservant myself."
"And under the X-ray scrutiny of
this profound analysis," he said with
the street steps of tho Lescott house ' |l)s i0(jg|ngs handed him. as he passed
and rang the bell, and a few moments | through the cour, an envelope ad
later Adrienne appeared. The car was ,|rpss,.d in the hand of Adrienne Les-
waltlng outside, and, as the girl came | ,.ott as he read It he felt a glow of
down tin* stairs in motor coat and ! pleasurable surprise, and. wheeling, he , . ,,
veil, she paused and her lingers on the retraced hlq steps briskly to his lodg Mauretauia, returning trom .uropi
banister tightened In surprise as she J ingS. where he began to pack. Adrl- j "r,< •voul> K"'"K
looked at the man who stood below enne had written that she and her i defli'ltely * I ve serve c
holding his hat in his hand, with his mother and Wilfred Horton were sail-
face upturned. The well-shaped head j jns for Naples, and commanded him.
was no longer marred by the mane unless he were too busy, to meet their
steamer. Within two hours ho was
hound for Lucerne to cross the Italian
frontier by the slate blue waters of
Lake Maggiore.
which it had formerly worn, but was
close cropped, and under the trans-
forming influence of the change the
forehead seemed bolder and higher,
and to her thinking the strength of
the purposeful features was enhanced.
'Drennle," pleaded Wilfred Horton,
the two leaned on the rail of the
a. returning from f
off in
my seven
years for Rachel, and thrown in some
extra time. Am I no nearer the goal?"
The girl looked at the oily heave of
the leaden and cheerless Atlantic, and
lis somber tones found reflection in
her eyes. She shook her head.
i wish 1 knew," she said, wearily
"I'm not
A few weeks later Samson and Ad- Then she added vehemently
rienne were standing together by ; worth If, Wilfred Let me go. Chuck
and yet, had she known it, the man moonlight in the ruins of the ( oil- i
felt that he had for the first ti,710 sur- | Seum. The junketing about Italy had i can't
rendered a point which meant an ahan-
Ifellows are hurt in there. They may
(need a doctor." And the two went I a 'auK'i, "do you like me?"
hack to find several startled servants I "Wait and see," she retorted.
assisting to their beds the disabled
combatants, and the next morning
their inquiries elicited the informa-
tion that the gentlemen were all "able
to be about, but were breakfasting la
their rooms."
Such as looked from their windows
that morning saw an unexpected cli-
max, when the car of Mr. Wilfred
Horton drove away from the club car-
"At all events"—he spoke gravely—
"you must try to like me a little, be-
cause I am not what I was. The per-
son that I am is largely the creature
of your own fashioning. Of course
you had very raw material to work
with, and you can't make a silk purse
of"—ho broke off and smiled—"well,
of me, but in time you may at least
get me mercerized a little."
For no visible reason she flushed
trifle
rying the man whom they had hoped
to see killed and the man they had I and her next question came
hoped to see kill him. The two ap- j eagerly:
peared to be in excellent spirits and "Do you mean I have influenced
thoroughly congenial as the car rolled ! you?"
out of sight, and the gentlemen who [ "Influenced me, Drennle?" he re-
were left behind decided that, in view j peated. "You have done more than
of the circumstances, the "extraordi- j that. You have painted me out and
Marv spree" of last night had best go painted me over."
donment of something akin to prin-
ciple.
She said nothing, but as she took
his hand in greeting her fingers
pressed his own in handclasp more
lingering than usual.
Late that evening, when Samson re-
turned to the studio, he found a mis- j
sive in his letter box, and, as he took
it out. his eyes fell on the postmark.
It was dated from Hixon, Kentucky,
and, as the man slowly climbed the |
stairs, he turned the envelope over in j
his hand with a strange sense of mis-1
giving and premonition.
The ltetter was written in the
cramped hand of Brother Spencer.
I Through its faulty diction ran a plain-
ly discernible undernote of disapproval
for Samson, though there was no word i
of reproof or criticism. It was plain
that it was sent as a matter of cour-
tesy to one who, having proved an
apostate, scarcely merited such consid-
eration. It informed him that old
Spicer South had been "mighty pore-
ly," but was now better, barring the
breaking of age. Everyone was "tol-
erable." Then came the announce-
ment which the letter had been writ-
ten to convey.
The term of the Soutli-Hollman truce
had ended, and it had been renewed
for an indefinite period.
"Some of your folks thought they
ought to let you know because they
promised to give you a say," wrote
the informant. "But they decided that
it couldn't hardly make no difference
to you, since you have left the moun-
tains, and if you cared anything about
it, you knew the time, and could of
been here. Hoping this finds you
well."
Samson's face clouded. He threw
the soiled and scribbled missive down
on the table and sat with unseeing
eyes fixed on the studio wall. So, they
had cast him out of their councils!
They already thought of him as one
who had been.
In that passionate rush of feeling
everything that had happened since
he had left Misery seemed artificial
and dreamlike. He longed for the
realities that were forfeited. He want-
ed to press himself close to the great,
gray shoulders of rock that broke
through the greenery like giants tear-
ing off soft raiment. Those were his
people back there. He should be run-
ning with the wolf pack, not coursing
with beagles.
He had been telling himself that he
was loyal and now he realized that he
was drifting like the lotus eaters.
He rose and paced the floor, with
teeth and hands clenched and the
sweat standing out on his forehead.
His advisers had of late been urging
him to go to Paris. He had refused,
and his unconfessed reason had been
that in Paris he could not answer a
sudden call. He would go back to
them now and compel them to admit
his leadership.
Then his eyes fell on the unfinished
1110 out of your life as a little pig who
read her own heart; who is too
utterly seltish to decide upon her own
life."
"Is it"—he put the question with
foreboding—"that, after all, 1 was a
prophet? Have you — and South —
wiped your feet on the doormat
marked 'Platonic friendship?' Have
you done that. Drennie?"
She looked up into his eyes. Her
own were wide and honest and very
full of pain.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
AGE HAS ITS COMPENSATION
Philosophical View as Taken by This
Man Seems to Have Much to
Recommend It.
Ho was a lively old chap of past
seventy at a lobster palace table with
a glass of plain water for tipple.
"Of course," he was saying to the
younger men with him, "I am not as
long for this world as you chaps are.
if you live to be as old as 1 am, but
been charming, and now in that circle I have a satisfaction in lile that you
of sepia softness and broken columns haven't. I know, because when 1
he looked at her and suddenly asked was in my forties every time 1 had
himself: anything the matter with me I got
"Just what does she mean to you?" scared.
If he had never asked himself that "1 was afraid that either it would
, question before he knew now that it kill me with only Tiaif my life lived or
must some day be answered. Friend I that it was some lingering disease that
ship had been a good and seemingly
His Eyes Fell on the Postmark.
a sufficient definition Now he was not
so sure that it could remain so.
Then his thoughts went back to a
cabin in the hills and a girl in calico.
He heard a voice like the voice of a
song bird saying through tears:
"I couldn't live without ye, Samson
... I jest couldn't do hit!"
For a moment he was sick of his life.
It seemed that there stood before him.
in that place of historic wraiths and
memories, a girl, her eyes sad, but
loyal, and without reproof.
"You look," said Adrienne, studying
would make thirty or forty years of
my life a burden. Nor was 1 alone
in thinking that way. Every man of
my age had the same feeling. 1 think
that comes to most men when they
are about thirty.
"Youth's carelessness lasts only a
very short time and a man mighty
soon begins to wonder what will hap-
pen to him next, or how long he will
stay in good shape. When a man
reaches my age he begins to be care-
less again. Most of what will happen
lias happened, and he is through with
it, and what is to happen next doesn't
his countenance in the pallor of the | make much difference because In the
moonlight, "as though you were see | nature of things it can't last long
ing ghosts."
"I am," said Samson. "Let's go "
Adrienne had not yet seen her por-
trait. Samson had needed a few hours
of finishing when he left New York,
though it was work which could be
done away from the model So it was
natural that when the party reached
Paris Adrienne should soon insist on
crossing the Pont d'Alexandre III to
his studio near the "lloule Mich" for an
inspection of her commissioned canvas
For a while she wandered about the
whatever it is and the finality comes
as a resting spell and a cessation from
the worries of the flesh.
"1 know some old men who don't
take the same view of themselves that
I do, and 1 am sorry for them, be-
cause a man owes it to himself, I
think, to quit bothering about giving
up when he knows he has to do It
whether or no."
unadvertised into ancient history.
CHAPTER XII.
The second year of a new order
brings fewer radical changes than the
Jirst. Samson's work began to forge
out of the ranks of the ordinary and
to show symptoms of a quality which
Would sonic day give it UinUnetion.
She shook her head, and in her eyes
danced a light of subtle coquetry.
"There are things I have tried to
do, and failed," she told him.
His eyes showed surprise.
"Perhaps," he apologized, "I am
dense, and you may have to tell me
bluntly what I am to do. But you
krow that you have only to tell me."
For a moment she gasped with sheer
delight for the colorful mastery of the
technique, and she would have been
portrait of Adrienne. The face gazed | hard to please had she not been de-
at him with its grave sweetness; its lighted with the conception of her-
fragrant subtlety and its fine-grained self mirrored In tho canvas. It was a
delicacy. Her pictured lips were si- : face through which the soul showed,
lently arguing for the life he had j and the soul was strong and flawless,
found among strangers, and her vie- ! The girl's personality radiated from
tory would have been an easy one, but the canvas-—and yet— A disappointed
for the fact that just now his con little look crossed and clouded her
science seemed to be on the other I eyes She was conscious of an in-
side. Samson's civilization was two j definable catch of pain at her heart,
years old—a thin veneer over a cen- j Samson stepped forward, and his
Pleasure In One's Work.
Pleasure in work produces a sym
businesslike place, littered with the I pathetic, teachable mental attitude to-
gear of the painter's craft. It was, in | ward the task. It makes the atten
a way, a form of mind-reading, for tj0n involuntary, and eases the strain
Samson's brush was the tongue of his ] 0f attending. It stops the nervous
soul. leaks of worry. One of the secrets of
The girl's eyes grew thoughtful as | lasting well is to avoid getting stale
she saw thut he still drew the leering j and tired and in a mental rut. Pleas-
saturnine face of Jim Asberry. He I ure gives a sense of freedom that is a
had not outgrown hate, then? But rest, as a wide road rests the driver
she said nothing until he brought out | To know a thing thoroughly and at-
and set on an easel her own portrait. | tain mastership in it, one must be
drawn back to it repeatedly by Its at-
tractions, and must find one's powers
evoked and trained by its inspiration
— Prof. Edward U. Jone3, in Engineer-
ing Magazine.
■■Ill
I
No
Compromise
You must conquer Stomach Ills
at once if you would retain the
controlling power in health mat-
ters. Such ailments as Poor
Appetite, Indigestion, Bilious-
ness, Constipation, Colds and
Grippe soon undermine your
health. Help Nature conquer
them with the valuable aid of
HOSTETTERS
Stomach Bitters
1111
TRY IT
I ■ I
Some Hint.
Hello, Blank' Where an* you go
ing in such a hurry?"
To the post office to put up a kick
about the wretched delivery service."
What's the trouble?"
Why, that check you promised to
send me ten days ago hasn't reached
me yet
Primitive Chinese Still.
In the extraction of camphor the
Chinese use a most primitive still,
which at the same time proves of con
siderable more efficacy than might be
expected. The leaves are placed in a
wicker basket, which is fixed over an
iron caldron containing water. On the
tury of feudalism—and now the cen- j waiting eyes, too, were disappointed. top of the basket a basin of cold water
tnry was thundering its call of blood | "You don't like it, Drennie?" he is placed. The steam from the caldron
bondage. Hut, as the man struggled anxiously questioned, nut she smiled
over the dilemma, the pendulum ' in answer, and declared:
swung back. The hundred years had , "I love it."
left, also, a heritage of quickness and I He went out a tew minutes later to
bitterness to resent injury and injua- telephone for her to Mra. Lescott, and
passeB through the leaves of the baskot
and carries over the camphor vapor,
which is deposited in the form of cam-
phor on the cool under surface of the
baslp.
Wounds cleansod by Hanford's Bal-
sam. Adv.
Language was given us that wo
might say pleasant things to each oth-
er -Hovee
Don't Give Up!
Nowadays deaths due to weak kidneys
nro 7," iiu>ro common than 'Jo \eH~s ago.
according to the ceusus. Overwork and
worry arc tho causes. The kidueys can't
keep up, and a slight Kidney weakness
is usually neglected.
If you have backache or urinary dis-
orders, dou'i mistake the cause. Fight
the danger. Morn care as to diet, hnblts,
etc., and the use of Doun's Kidney Pills
ought to briug quick relief.
A Kansas Case
"For y-'iiia 1 have
suffered from rheu-
matic pains and se-
v. re ultarkH of
uckiit li-'. Sometime*
wiis s<> lame, 1
>uldn't g.t around
him*
ork
I had bad h. adach-
anil dizzy spell*, too.
Nothing did m<- th"
I.-a.it good until I
it*.(l Dunn's Kidney
They
•d me
In
been mueh bet-
Get Donn'i at Any Store. 50c a Box
DOAN'S "VftW
FOSTER-MILBURN CO., BUFFALO. N. Y.
Neuralgia
There is no need to Buffer the
annoying, excruciating pain of
neuralgia; Sloan's Liniment laid
on Rently will Boothe tho aching
head like magic. Don't delay.
T ry it at once.
Hear What Other* Say
*'I have been a sufferer with Neuralgia
for several years and have triad different
Liniments, but Sloan'* Liniment i* the
best Liniment for Neuralgia on earth.
I have tried it successfully; it ha* never
failed."—F. II. Williama% Aujuata, Ark.
Mra. Ruth C. Clnyjtool, Independtnca,
Mo., writes: "A friend of our* told ua
about your Liniment. We have been using
it for i3 year* and think there is nothing
liko it. We use it on everything, sores,
cuts, burns, brui vh, sore throat, headaches
and on everything else. We can't get
along without it. We think it i& the best
Liniment made."
SLOANS
LINIMENT
is t ho host remedy for rheumatism,
backache, sore throat and sprains.
At all dealers, 25c.
Send four cents in stamps for a
TRIAL BOTTLE
Dr. Earl S. Sloan, Inc.
Dept. B. Philadelphia, Pa.
IF YOU HAVE
Malaria or Piles, Sick Headache, Costive
Bowels, Dumb Ague, Sour Stomach, and
Itelchlng; If your food does not ujslmltate and
you have no appetite,
Tuff's
will remedy these troubles. Price, 25 cents.
t)i i r\T tOSSES SURELY PREVENTED
■ SI \ \ .H by Cutter' Blsckles Pills. Low*
priced, fresh reliable: preferred hj
Western stoekin.ii. because thry
m ^ protect where other vaccines fail.
W 1^#- ^ Win., for ..p.I ' nmunl.ils.
E ■ _ 10-dnM okg>). Blackleg Pills SI.00
fc £ * -*^1 ^ 50-dojp pkgo. mackie® PdlS 4.0"
Dm any Injector, but Cutter's host.
The superiority of Cutter products In due to over li
rsarx of spmMalUIng 111 vaoelnes and serums only.
Insist on Cutter's. If unobtainable, order direct.
Tfcs Outtsr Laboratory, Bsrkslay. CsJ.. sr Cbieoflo. lit
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The Hennessey Clipper (Hennessey, Okla.), Vol. 25, No. 35, Ed. 1 Thursday, February 4, 1915, newspaper, February 4, 1915; (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc105958/m1/3/: accessed March 29, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.