The Decatur News (Decatur, Tex.), Vol. 44, No. 53, Ed. 1 Friday, May 22, 1925 Page: 3 of 8
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THE DECATUR NEWS
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CHAPTER V
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CHAPTER IV—Continued
—<1—
"Yes, dear, I understand.
eist you, Peter.
I could do It.
t
V
A
Forgiveness aa an Art
It you forgive a friend be sure you
do it with a manner which permit*
him to forgive himself.—Don Marquis
in New York Herald-Tribune.
No human being is entitled to any
"right,” ary privilege that is not cor-
related with the obligation to perform
duty.—Roosevelt.
life unprepared, might well have added I
that he left It without provision.
Brena went to live with Mn Wilkie
She remembered that lady aa an te-
amen Bye Balaam
ralleva tired ayes
- - - - adv.
The occasional uae of R'
at night will prevent ana__________
and aye strain, ill Pearl St., N. X.
GET FEELING
WELL AGAIN
From Mother Nature’s storehouse
wo have gathered the roots, barks
and herbs which are compounded,
under the famous Tanlac formula,
to make Tanlac. This great tonic
and builder has brought health and
strength to millions.
If your body is weak and under*
nourished, if you can’t sleep or eat,
have stomach trouble or burning
rheumatism, just you see how
quickly Tanlac can help you back
to health and strength.
Most people notice a big change
| for the better after the very first
bottle. They have better appetites
and more pep. The sparkle comes
back to their dull eyes and color to
their faded cheeks.
Don’t delay taking Tanlac an-
other precious day. Stop at your
druggist’s now and get a bottle
of this, the greatest of all tonics.
Tate Tanlac Vegetable Pills
for Constipation
TANLAC
FOR YOUR. HEALTH
Out of uniform, at the end of
the World war, with the rank
of major, Peter DeWolfe, young
American of wealth and family.
1* urged by an English comrade
in arms, Everby Benham, to visit
the Benham home and meet the
Englishman's mother and sister,
and, incidentally, Brena Selcoss,
young woman about whom there
is an air of mystery. Muriel Ben-
ham, Eversby's sister, becomes
Infatuated with Peter, but he is
interested only in the mysterious
Brena Selcoss, of whom he has
had only a glimpse. Muriel urges
him to forget her, warning him
that if she (Brena) should like
him he Is in danger of "vanish-
ing—like the others." Peter gets
a phone message from Brena to
meet her. Peter meets' Brena In
a tea room and the meeting re-
sults in the formation of a strong
bond of frlendsh-ip.
aU tired_________
you can hardly keep going!
to your kidneys! Your I
Vanishing
L Men£
COPYRIGHT BY
t-p DUTTON ' CO.
WNl Service.
Brena Selcoss bad been born on
American soil.
One of her most vivid memories was
that of her father, an austere man,
who all his life long had carried about
In the great and muscular body with
Ita slow movements and its suggestion
of latent giant fffiwer, a restless soul,
ever seeking to find its way hither and
thither like a strong giant ant of un-
ceasing activity looking for new work.
She could remember dimly that her
mother, whose hair never lost the red-
gold Celtic glory until she and her sec-
ond child died together when she was
forty-two. bad referred with whispered
awe to the turbulent career of her hus-
band, Demetrius. There were vague
recollect lone of the mother’s pride in
the fact that he had risked and lost his
career, begun so early in life and so
brilliantly in chemical research and in
a profe-*'—’hl,* |n Athena, that he had
tossed ar A *!’ i-NnM-ratlm for bt*
Doesn’t hurt one bit! Drop a little
“Freezone” on an aching corn, instant-
ly that corn stops hurting, then short-
ly you lift It right off with fingers.
Your druggist sells a tiny bottle of
“Freezone” for a few cents, sufficient to
remove every hard corn, soft corn, or
corn between the toes, and the foot
calluses, without soreness or irritation.
Grove's
Tasteless
Chill Tonic
Restores Health, Energy
and Rosy Cheeks, soo
1
I CuticuraSoap
Is Pure and Sweet
Ideal for Children
Sample Saap. Ointment. Takvm free. AiMr—■
Catleam Laberalertes, D»pt M, Malfea, Mae*
For STOMACH
DISCOMFORT
Take these small, pleas* ||
ant tasting tablets for i
Indigestion,Heartburn, j
Belching, Gas Bloat, I
Sour Taste, Food Re-
peating and all Discom- I
lorts After Eating. 1}
PATON IC
j. lu
......
• ■
She romembered that lady as aa In- I
tensely practical womaa who was al-
ways In a hurry. On haste, she had
grown almost unpleasantly stout, aud
one of the disagreeable memories of
Brenas tragic storehouse is the pic-
ture of this woman's absurdly small
mouth, which would not stay fixed In
one spot between her fat cheeks and
her fat chin, but moved about, appear-
ing to be located first here and then
there, like a newly punched orifice. It
never moved so unpleasantly as when
she was talking of her ancestry, her
relatives who had great wealth and
her husband's injustice and brutality
in making her give up society. Her
husband had given up her society; he
had gone to parts unknown. She
brooded upon her fancy that she could
have been a kind of dowager grandees
if she had been born under a luckier
star or had rejected Sam Wilkie.
She would not have been of any
particular Importance in the life of
Brena Selcoss had it not been for two
facts. One of them was that, lacking
other distinction, she could have that
of giving refuge at so much and so
much for room and board per week to
the most alluring young creature that,
for the moment, was known to the
male eyes of Dallas as an unsolved
riddle.
Tiie other fact was that she
was the half-sister of the mother of
Jim Hennepin of Virginia.
Jim Hennepin, who liked to attach
to his name Hie words “of Virginia,”
was tiie last of a line which had been
brought to American soil by a refugee
Huguenot connected distantly with the
great explorer of the headwaters of the
Mississippi. There are those who re-
member him in ills escapades in Dan-
ville, and felt relief when his father,
who had himself dissipated tiie small
remainder of the Hennepin wealth
and tobacco lands in futile specula-
tions through a Washington broker,
said to Jim, "You can go down to your
mother’s sister in Texas. She will put
you up and I have a Job all ready for
you with a cotton buying and commis-
sion house in Dallas. There is noth-
ing left in my own pockets. The only
genius you have is for getting into
trouble; your only talent is for figures.
As time goes on the accountant is play-
ing an ever-growing part in American
business, just as the drunkard Is play-
ing a lesser part. Do you get my mean-
ing, son?”
This accounted for the presence of
Jim Hennepin in Texas. He had been
there two years. Compton Parmalee
& Co. had found nothing to criticize In
his bookkeeping. In fact, it had quali-
ties of genius which sometimes mnke
bookkeeping not only a cold record, but
a vitalized inspiration of business.
Hennepin was a useful addition to
Compton Parma lee’s small staff. He
drank at the club, but with a modera-
tion considering his resistance to the
effect of alcohol. He was a popular
young man in Dallas, and the fact that
so many men in that Texas city have
now forgotten that they ever heard of
this youth is only a commentary upon
the truth that the impressions most of
us make are not even fine scratches
when time’s roller has passed once or
twice over men’s memory and today
has become so much more Important
than yesterday and that which la in
sight covers that which Is gone like
new strata in a geological period.
It would be untrue to deny that Jim
Hennepin was an attractive figure. If i
lie had craft and vlclotisness. as some ■
have said he had, It was belled by
the Hennepin smile—an inviting smile, !
Invoking the cheer of tiie moment like
a smile of a boy. Furthermore, lie was
tall and graceful, like an oarsman In •
an English college eight. He was more
like tiie had son of an earl than a
bookkeeper, and persons often In-
quired who lie was, (‘specially before
tliey had heard him speak In his care-
free modern American slang figures,
and were surprised to find tliat he was
older than he looked, had fought his
education for several wasted years at
tiie University of Virginia and was .
earning forty-three dollars a week anil '
spendleg flftj-nlne when he was over
thirty.
MK UHU BV W v«u uaau.
corners
or many an empty cage
front- visitors, says the
Times.
Every month a proportion of the fa- ■ —
fre^
night long on the porch of their cot-
tage in Dallas, Texas, in
which squeaked a little as his bulk
moved. He had come up at dawn to
find his wife, with the first rays of
summer sun thrown through the shut-
ters and onto the happy, lifeless fig-
ure in bars of gold. It shimmered on
her lovely hair; in all the red-gold
mass there was not one strand of
gray.
“This is the time for great calm,’’
he had said to Brena, as he woke her
with his giant’s hand upon her shoul-
der. “The life has gone from your
mother’s beautiful body, my daughter,
but she will live always with us be-
cause she was a brave and tender soul
which endures forever.”
“I thought that she had endless
life,” he said after a pause, burying
his beared face in bls sun-browned
hands. "It is the way with me always
—I am unprepared—always unpre-
pared."
This was the only flinching brought
out in him by the death of the Irish
girl he had adored so completely, to
whose songs he had listened while his
life went askew and In whose smiles
he had warmed the chills of bitterness
and whose arms had stilled the rest-
lessness behind his great dark glowing
eyes. He went on his way unchanged,
but no doubt making new attempts to
reach across the chasm which sepa-
rated him from the yearning heart of
his daughter.
These attempts were failures. Be-
side each other, when he was home,
they were as persons alone; the one
reminiscent, living in a past where
great figures of history stalked ma-
jestically; the other expectant, with
the eyes of youth turned away from
the shadows aud toward the glints of
the future.
For three or more years before Mary
Vaughn Selcoss had died, she bad
been'alarmed by a new characferlsti<
of her husband. Tn Dallas when ho,
who once had known the tang of great
deeds done In a setting of romantic
grandeur, came out through the hot
streets on a common electric car and
walked up a suburban avenne with '.ts
cheap buvmlowa and Us phoa^grapha.
Spent Six Year a on Novel
Gustave Flaubert, leader of th-
French realistic school of writers
spent Six yenrs In writing his novel
"Madame Bovery.” Ita publication in
1857 Imo hln> open to accusations of
immorality, from w,i',h he ws>
clwsred.
lit happened when I was less than
ieighteen—seven years ago.
iried.”
"Married!” he gasped, putting his
(other hand lightly upon her cheek.
"Where, then, is he? How long ago
4id he—”
-Gor
"Yes.”
"Three years. I loathed him.
Aoathed his eternal fright.”
"And where is he now?” he asked.
"I do not know."
She shuddered.
"He—”
"Vanished.”
Peter was white. Breathing hard, he
said, “You—Brena—will you tell me
everything?”
"Yes, Peter—before I go. I will tell
you everything. It will show you why
1 am afraid—for you.”
"Yes, Dear, I Understand. I
Resist You, Peter. It Would
Hard, but I Could Do It.”
eeese new appHcattan of his berate, bn
practical head, la consequence, the
little girl, red of cheeks, with spin-
dling legs and great wondering brown
eyes, never stayed long enough any-
where for acquaintance with children
and for play. T tored by her mother
and by the booming, terrifying voice of
Deqietrlus Selcoss when he, as he said,
could spare time for it, she learned a,
taste for books aud consumed then),
according to her own story, “like a
hungry little pig regardless of the wis-
dom of a diet and eating all that was
within reach.” The books served to
give her a fake veneer of experience
and maturity.
This outer covering was fake be-
cause it failed to represent tiie truth
that Brena had reached sixteen, with
physical attributes which made men
turn aa she passed but without any
consciousness of having approached
womanhood. Without contacts with
childhood, ever on the move, living in
hotels, in boarding bouses, in suburban
cottages, ever dependent upon one rick-
ety patched old trunk and her two
parents, she had acquired the habits
of childlike dependence. Like a child
she found that life was shaped without
intervention of her own. She allowed
herself to be dragged along with her
mixed load of conceptions drawn from
a helter-skelter reading. Among otiier
conceptions was that eternal fiction of
tiie gullant and perfect fairy story
prince whose bride she would one day
be. To be a bride meant little more
in terms of real life than to become an
angel.
“If I ever have a daughter,” said
Brena Selcoss, "I will never allow her
to have this dangerous dream of a
I’rince Charming. It is tiie common
foundation upon which girls throw
sensible Judgment to tiie four winds
and come to critical moments with-
out a thought of the flowing years of
real life which are to come. It might
have wrecked me when I was seven-
teen.”
While Brena was seventeen. Indeed,
many landmarks had been set up in
her development. Her mother had
died quietly in bed the year before
without a gasp of warning, without a
murmur, a smile upon her engaging
lips. Brena had been asleep in the
next room, and Demetrius, having one
of his spells of insomnia, sat almost all
miliar onimals die, and rare beasts and
birds with strange names also suc-
cumb. Every month purchases are
made that may range from 25 cents for
a box tortoise to $1)00 for a pair of
Gelada baboons.
Usually the highest mortality la
among the birds. Next cotne tiie mam-
mals, the severest financial loss. Rep-
tile casualties are lowest. A report
of the Bronx zoological park shows
the death of twelve mammals. Includ-
ing h bonnet macaque and a white-
faced anpajou, of three reptiles, croco-
dile and two tortoises and fifty birds In
a single month. However, the increas-
ing skill of curators and keepers la
tiie handling of wild animals Is keep-
ing the death rate within bounds.
Why That Bad Back?
la backache keeping yon unset! Feel
all tired out—so nervous and dispirited
you can hardly keep going! Than look
to your kidneys! Your kidneys rid
the body of poisonous waste. But if
they lag, impuritiee accumulate and
poison the whole system. Then one is
apt to suffer backache, stabbing pains,
hsadaehee, dizziness, and other annoy-
ing kidney irregularities. If your kid-
neys are sluggish, help them with a
diuretic. Uae Doan’s Pilla. They are
praised the world over. Ask your
neighbort
A Texas Case
I cun re-
It would be hard, but
I do not want to do It.
The promise was for your sake. Peter.
Not for mine alone.”
“Pte asked you nothing—no ques-
tions,” he said, putting his hands upon
each of her shoulders und holding her
at arm’s length.
“No, Peter, none."
■“Because I did not care,” said he.
"No mutter what migiit come?”
"No matter wiiat might come.”
He drew her toward him and took a
breath of the unperfumed fragrance of
Brena Selcoss. And then, with eager,
hungry yearning, expressed only
through the restraints of tenderness
and profound respect, as if Indeed he
had some ancient deity in his arms, lie
kissed her lips, he pressed his cheek
into her hair, he touched the back of
tier neck with Ids fingers.
“I love you,” he said. “Can you un-
derstand all I mean by those plain
words—I love you?”
"I love you, Peter.”
■“You must never leave me now.”
She sprang back, tearing herself
from him as if he bad treacherously
plunged a knife into her.
“Not that, Peter. Not that! I
thought you knew. I thought tills was
—good-by.”
Like one in great pain which must
be borne in silence, she threw back
her head and stood quivering and
tense.
“You can’t have misunderstood!”
ehe said in a breaking voice. "Is this
my punishment—that you have misun-
derstood ?”
“I want you, Brena—forever. I
(could have sworn I never would want
(anyone-—like this.”
“Peter, it cannot be."
She seized liis hand and, leaning
(Over, pressed her wet cheek upon his
(wrist.
“It cannot be, Peter.
(when I was no more myself—the one
(you know—than I am Muriel Benham.
self to labor fcr a constitutional Greece
and to risk his life in a conspiracy for
freedom.
Mary Vaughn, as her name had been
before her marriage, knew something
of insurrection herself; she had had
tiie ill fortune to be the daughter of
the famous Tom Vaughn who was
forced to tiee Ireland with his family
after tiie unsuccessful and forgotten
“Secession Plot” of the '50s. Mary,
from the time she was a child, sang
like a bird. She might have become
a famous contralto, for her voice had
that same warm, rich quality inherited
by her bewitched daughter, but like a
bird tier true home was upon tiie open
moors witli their free spaces and tiie
shadows of tiie clouds passing over tiie
grass; New York, of adamant and rec-
tangles, was as good for tiie joy of her
voice as it would have been for that
of a wild nightingale. She never spoke
harshly of that “turrible Babylon,"
however, without adding, “But 'twas
there 1 met your father, Brena, and I'll
speak no ill of it.”
So, with some of her sparkling self
dimmed, she gave all her expression of
loyalty to her husband; her flight upon
gauzy, unsubstantial wings was al-
ways a circle about ills head, as if she
were a brilliant moth hovering about
the top of a grim mountain which al-
ways quivered, threatening volcanic
disasters. Something hud died within
her wiien they took her from tiie moors
and tiie open places, and that which
was left was an Irish beauty and a bot-
tomless well of affection for her man
and her Brena.
"It is from her that I have a leg-
acy,” said Brena. “It is a storehouse
of unspent passion and tenderness.
And it is sHll mine—to do witli us I
please.”
She did not go on to say that those
to whom it would lie opened might
enter to be destroyed.
Brena could not recall tiie details
of her mother’s accounts of the part
her father had played in the disturbed
period of Greece. There were vague
impressions of a secret organization
under the "Council of Twelve,” to
which he had sworn devotion, of a
problem of honor which he had decid-
ed by following a course of conduct
that had brought down upon him the
penalty of assassination. A sharply
defined portrait of tills young patriot,
a member of the Salamis deputation
of 1862 informing King Otho, the last
of the Bavarian alien monarchs, that
the throne of Greece was vacant, re-
mained in Brena's mind. She confessed
to a thrill of pride tiiat upon an occa-
sion, historic and momentous, her fa-
ther, then only twenty-eight, had been
present in a major role. This had
been the top moment of his life; those
whom he had aided turned upon him.
The strength of a powerful secret or-
ganization, gradually falling into un-
scrupulous hands after its true func-
tions -were over, had been turned
against him. Hls name became a tra-
ditional center of oaths of vengeance ;
with knife wounds upon his great
arms and thighs and an unremoved
bullet in hls shoulder, he came to
America. He was a man who had
lived one life, and expected the world
to recognize him as an important be-
ing. It saw in him only a silent,
learned man, inventing a thousand am-
bitions and from them choosing no
fixed purpose, disregarding money In a
land where money, for the time, was
the fetish, careless of poverty but hu-
miliated periodically by debt, discours-
ing upon biological chemistry years be-
fore the scientific world had the
imagination to listen—a giant, with
dark haunting eyes, long Homeric hair
and beard, always brushed back as If
he were eternally facing a hurricane,
and a voice and presence as mysteri-
ously Impressive as that of some Eli-
jah. Even Brena remembered his af-
fection for her, profound as it was, as
being like the affection of some god of
mythology directed down upon a beau-
tiful but mortal child.
Between the frivolous sunlight of
her mother and the magnificent sha-
dow of her father, Brena grew, acquir-
ing from one a whimsical humor and
from the other a calm of high cliffs
and of a Parthenon.
According to Brena’s own phrase,
she “had no childhood and all child-
hood.” She had none because her fa-
ther, after a month or two of concen-
trated application of his mind upon
studies of similarities in the architec-
ture of ancient Mexico and prehistoric
Greece, would find the butcher, land-
lord and grocer at hls door, and then,
as if awakened, he would take his lit-
tle family and board the train for some
minor university where be would^tescb
himself out of debt and into a period
of bitterness of heart because neither
his learning nor his important place
in history were given recognition
With a great sigh from his expansive
chest he would move on again In pur-
suit of same Inquiry, soma research.
Wild Creatures Die
Fast When Captives
The average person who visits a zoo
for study and enjoyment often falls to
realize tiie expert care and heavy ex- ,
pendlture demanded in Its upkeep. ,
Death takes a frequent toll among the j
animals and the birth rate cannot be- '
gin to make replacement. The four !
of tiie earth must he scoured ■
would con- J
New York |
— ***■■«<» ■ ■ • ■ <
As
Its lawn epriakiera trying to rats* th*
sunbaked grass from the deed, and Its
eoncret* sidewalks, Brena's mother
had noticed a look in his eyes of a
haunting fear.
“1 wonder what would become of
you and Brena if angtbiug happened
to me." he had said tn explanation.
"Nothing will happen to you.” Ure-
na’s mother had gayly answered.
“Come into the Uous*. I’ve something
to show you.”
“To show me?”
“Ye*—a happy little home with the
rent all paid up till last February.
Nothing will happen to you.”
But the fear was written upon his
countenance deeper and deeper, like
a tracing often repeated. He said to
ills wife on one occasion, “You any
this fear is new. No, dearest; 1 have
carried It about fur many, many
years.”
Long after her mother had gone
Brena had seen tliat look In her fa-
ther's eyes.
“Perhaps he is afraid he will lose
hls place with the oil company,'
had said to herself many times.
Opportunity enough was given her
In those days to speak for herself.
She had gone beyond any school train-
ing not only in independence but in
learning; nevertheless siie remained a
child—a lonely, sensitive child in the
heart of Iter ripening womanhood. Her
fatiier's itusterity and tier own peculiar
shyness made tiie pair appear to the
Texan neighbors uloof, strange, like
persons over wiiom some shadow hung.
And her father considered alone? He
too, even to her, was in spite of all his
giant desire for tenderness, also aloof,
strange, und over him some shadow
also cast its menacing shape.
Perhaps this shadow was explained
when Demetrius, tiie learned and im-
practical, tiie iieroic und tiie humbled
exiled gentleman of Athens, stepped
in front of a moving train one evening
as lie was trying to cross tiie tracks
which run through the Dallas streets,
und tiien lay staring up at the sky, hls •
hair and beard brushed back us if he
faced a tempest.
it was tiie doctor who carried the
news to Brena. He stood beside the
engraving of.the Acropolis in its frame
battered witli many packings and un-
packings and many hangings and re-
movals and many journeys in tiie bot-
toms of trunks.
“You do not weep?” he Inquired.
“No,” said Brena, looking at him
witli her blanched face.
The' doctor was a little dried up
southerner, whose manner straddled
between his Kentucky birthright und
tiie Prussian medical schools where
lie had acquired his education.
“He was a noble man," lie said, “He
was a haunted man, as well.”
Brena said nothing.
"If he had lived another six months,
lie would have been totally blind. Only
I knew tiiat. He would tell no one.
And what would have supported you
both then, eh? The public funds, 1
reckon.”
The woman, who was still a child,
shivered.
“He w’as sorely tempted—your fa-
ther," said Doctor Gregory. “He had
insured ids life and he would have
killed himself to provide for you. Yes,
that was hls plan. He asked me about
it. Such a man ! Hesitating to blow’
hls brains out because of what? Honor.
Not to defraud a soulless corporation,
eh? Not doing it, either. Too virtu-
ous! Too Just! Splendid! Magnifi-
cent! Like liis own forehead—noble,
classic!”
Brena covered her face witli her
hands.
“All, well," said the doctor, “ft was
well to know- such a man. You must
be brave—a good girl, eh? Your father
may have been killed in answer to Ills
prayers. One cannot grope his way in
front of a moving train.
“Did h* die—without—a wortlf she
asked.
“No; I was going to speak of that,"
said Gregory, chewing harder than
ever on hls ever-present toothpick. “He
was conscious for a time—q<*te con-
scious. He said tliat you never know
how much he loved you—some awk-
wardness. he mild, prevented. He
asked me to tell you tliat something
would protect you from dangor. He
didn’t say what. Something would.
He said that you must not be afraid.”
The doctor sighed and looked about
the room with its few books, pictures,
ornaments—the shabby remnant* of «
life of discriminating taste, high pur-
poses and poverty.
“There Isn’t much for you to begin
on," he said, reflectively. “Five hun-
dred life Insurance. The rest had
gone because lie didn’t pay the premi-
ums. Too honest to take It by blow-
ing hls brains out—a noble man—tiie
timbers of a noble human craft deserv-
ing better of life's sea!”
He was proud of that phrase.
“I think you will find that Mra. Wil-
kie on the corner will take you in for
while," he suggested,
find work.”
Yes, Brena would find work,
granddaughter of the proud and Intel
lectual Tom Vaughn, the daughter of
the man who in America called himself
Demetrius Seicoss, once the teacher of
chemistry in the National Institution
of Greece, who had tiie right to wear
royal decoration and who bore on hls
body the marks of battles for liberty—
she was now merely a girl aione In tlu^
world, without friends, money, back-
ground, training, experience. A great
democracy had leveled her. Pos-
sessed only of that sun-ripened beauty
of frnit coming into its prime witli
untouclied biooin upon ft, to which was
added the charm and +he dangers of
Immaturity and Innocence, he» assets
were a hazard. Her mind xnd its
capacities and Its rich supply of aca-
demic learning were not currency
which passed as legal tender among
the peraers she would kn«w. Her fa
tber, who bad said L* it be always met
Mrs. Rebecca Ki-
lls, 307 W. Milam
St.. Ennte, Texas,
■ays: “My kidneys
were weak and
acted frequently.
My back became
■ore and •tiff and a
constant, dull ache
caused rniaery. I
suffered from dl«y
■ pells and waa
weak and my,------
nervea were ■hattered, too. Doan’s
Pills put me in fin* ahaps."
DOAN’S W
STIMULANT DIURETIC TO THE KIDNEYS
Foatar-Milbura Ce„ Mi*, diaw,. Bufialo. N. Y.
US.
_
”1
Ji
.‘•■I
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Tyler, L. W. The Decatur News (Decatur, Tex.), Vol. 44, No. 53, Ed. 1 Friday, May 22, 1925, newspaper, May 22, 1925; Decatur, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1322861/m1/3/?q=Lamar+University: accessed June 6, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; .