The Jacksboro Gazette-News (Jacksboro, Tex.), Vol. 67, No. 37, Ed. 1 Thursday, February 13, 1947 Page: 2 of 8
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THP! .TACKSRORO GAZETTE
Date Frock With
Keyhole Neckline
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8052
11-18
REDS MAT HAVE A-BOMB
WASHINGTON. — It took breath-;
taking Bob Gros of California to do
what no diplomat or newsman so
far has done regarding the A-bomb
and Russia. He got a hint from So-
viet Ambassador Novikov that Rus-
sia has either the secret of the
A-bomb or an adequate defense
against it.
Gros, a California lecturer who
annually interviews more Washing-
ton bigwigs in 24 hours than the
average newsman does in one week,
called on Ambassador Novikov the
other day and at the end of his
interview asked: "Do you have any-
thing you wish to say to the Ameri-
can people?”
"Yes," replied the ambassa-
dor. "You Americans should not
rely too much on the A-bomb.
Against France, Italy, Ger-
many, yes. But against Russia,
No. You should not depend
A CLEVER junior date dress
lx with a wealth of eye-appeal. |
Note the pretty keyhole neckline
and crisp yoke treatment—the way j
the belt whittles your waist to doll- j
like proportions. It will be stun-
ning in a gayly striped fabric, used j
in contrast for yoke and cap
sleeves.
on it."
"That, Mr. Ambassador,” sug-
gested Gros, "sounds as if the Rus-
sians have developed a defense
against the A-bomb.”
"Yes," replied Ambassador Novi-
kov, "this and more. I do not wish
to say anything furthter."
This significant statement ended
the interview.
When Richard McFarlane disappeared
daring World War I, he left hie wife,
Julia, to raise their two children with
the aid of her father-in-law, John I.
McFarlane. After a lapse of 25 years,
with no word as to whether Richard Is
dead or alive, Julia 1s beset with new
worries when Ric, now 27, and serving
In World War II, shows obvious signs
of Inheriting his father’s recklessness,
and J1U, 26, falls In love with Lieut.
Spang Gordon. Jill learns from Spang
that Ric Is paying attention to a di-
vorcee of questionable character and
goes to camp to Investigate. Ric tells
her he Is on duty and unable to see
her. However, she meets Spang again
at the Officers’ club.
CHAPTER VII
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TO NEGLECT SNIFFLES, SNEEZES OF
A bottle of Vicks Va-tro-nol is mighty
handy to have around the house be-
cause this double-duty nose drops...
Quickly Relieves sneezy, sniffiy,
------------- —-—— stuffy distress of
head colds. Makes breathing easier.
Kelps Prevent many colds from
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This Double-Duty Nose Dropsshould
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Follow directions in the package.
MORE WOMEN IN GOVERNMENT
President Truman's failure to ap-
point more women to high office
was tactfully laid before the Presi-
dent by a group of women.
Mrs. La Felle Dickinson, presi-
dent of the General Federation of
Women's Clubs, headed the delega-
tion and told Mr. Truman quite
frankly that women generally were
disturbed because he hadn’t ap-
pointed as many women to govern-
ment jobs as Mr. Roosevelt had.
She reminded the President that
the state department had built up a
roster of 80 well-known American
women capable of handling impor-
tant government work and urged
him to bring the list up to date.
Dr. Katherine McHale of the As-
sociation of University Women, was
equally strong in urging appoint-
ment of more women to govern-
ment.
Mr. Truman replied that he would
like to appoint more women to jobs
but it was difficult to get the right
person for the righj job.
VICKS VAT&ONOL
YOU
can have a
wit|i
FERRY-MORSE SEED CO.
OETROfT 31 SAN FRANCISCO 24
"I watched President Roose-
velt work for a long time,” Tru-
man continued. "I knew then,
but didn't realize fully, just how
large a portion of the Presi-
dent's time was taken in find-
ing the right people for the
right job. I want you to know
that nobody makes my appoint-
ments for me. I make them on
the basis of my own judgment.”
Mrs. Dickinson strongly urged ap
pointment of a woman to the exist-
ing vacancy on the Federal Com-
munications commission, but didn't
suggest any names. The women's
club leader pointed out that women
make up the overwhelming major-
ity of daytime radio listeners, yet
had no representation whatsoever
on the FCC.
Mrs. Dickinson also proposed that
a woman be named assistant secre-
tary of state, because of the enor-
mous interest and great stake that
the women of the country have in
keeping the peace. Mr. Truman
said the suggestion was interesting,
“On Saturday night you can see
every officer in this place, except the
poor guys who get stuck with duty.
Every single one, anyway," Lieuten-
ant Stark said, “and about half the
married men.”
"Even Old Cyanide," Lieuten-
ant Crawford put in. “He’s over
there by the window, polluting the
atmosphere."
Jill followed the movement of
Spang’s eyes and saw a tall captain
sitting alone. He had reddish hair,
turning gray, a leathery skin, cold
blue eyes and a grim mouth under
a stiff, clipped mustache.
“Go easy, Joe, the enemy is lis-
tening," Stark warned.
"You mean that captain? Who is
he?” Jill asked.
"Hist name is Mackey,” Stark
said in a low voice.
"The boys call him Old Cyanide,”
Spang explained, “because he has
a corrosive tongue and you need a
gas-mask when he turns loose 'a
barrage of language on you.”
“Old army man,” supplied Craw-
ford. "Efficient as hell and just as
popular. He was a major before
Pearl Harbor, over in the Islands,
and they busted him after Decem-
ber seventh. Naturally he’s sore,
and he takes it out on anybody who
gets within ten feet of him.”
"He looks lonely," Jill said. "He
seems to have collected a few dec-
orations.”
"Battle stuff,” Spang said. "Last
war.”
"He’d be handsome if he didn’t
have such a bitter face,” Jill
mused. "He does have a very
smart military air.’.’
The three young men simultane-
ously snapped their shoulders back
and straightened their tie?, then
laughed together.
"Get hold of yourself, Joe, she
wasn’t even looking at you.”
“Suppose I have to break my
neck now to get to be a captain.”
They were nice lads, with their
sunburned good-natured faces and
the stark, white breadth of fore-
head that marked the line of their
garrison caps. Jill laughed with
them, waited while they wrangled
amiably over the check.
Spang said, "Take off, you fel-
lows. I’ve got a date with Jill. You
really didn't want to catch that bus,
did you, Jill?”
"It isn’t terribly important," she
admitted, smiling at him. You love
me, Spang—you know you love me.
It shows in your eyes. It's in your
voice.
Stark and Crawford said, "Good
night, Miss McFarlane,” as they all
went out into the warm, star-span-
gled night.
COM>
SUFFERERS!
666 STARTS RELIEF IN
JUST 6 SECONDS
0«t famoua. prescript loo* type j
IM. for aoper-ipceily rahef I
from cold miseries Try 006
Cold Tablet*, or.
l 606 Liquid Cold
1 Preparation today*
J Caution: Da# only •
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When Your
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And Your Strength and
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It may b« caused by dinorder of kid-
ney function that permits poiaonoua
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waste to accumulate. For truly many
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When tl
people ieci urw,
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You may (offer nagging brekache,
rheumatic —
a uu uiuj —— rtn-—n —-—.-----
rheumatic pains, headaches, dizziness,
getting up nights, leg pain*, swelling.
Sometimes frequent and scanty urina-
oomeumci irequvui ruu rmhhj
tion with emarting and burning It an-
othar elgn that something it wrong with
4k. nr tilarirlor.
NO LAME-DUCK JOBS
Here’s some bad news for Demo-
cratic congressmen and senators de-
feated in the last election who have
been priming the White House for
federal jobs:
President Truman has adopted a
new policy — no lame-duck appoint-
ments, barring exceptional cases.
This is the story behind the hope
of Sen. Jim Mead’s friends to land
him a diplomatic post or some other
top job.
Truman and Mwad are old and
close friends, fought shoulder to
shoulder in many senate battles and
when Truman became vice presi-
dent in 1944, Mead succeeded him
as chairman of the war investigat-
ing committee. However, several
times recently when White House
advisers raised the question of put-
ting the able New Yorker some-
where on the federal payroll, Tru-
man replied with a fiat “no.”
Jill Meets
Mrs. Calvert
"If the people of a state or a
congressional district have de-
cided that they don’t want a
man in Washington by voting
him out of office, why should I
go against their judgment by
appointing him to some job as
a reward for being defeated?"
the President said.
So far, none of Truman’s advisers
has thought up a good answer.
tb, kidney, or bladder.
There should be no dou
___________ibt that prompt
treatment la wiser then neglect. Use
Dean's PiUt. It Is better to rely on a
madleino that haa won eountrywlda ap-
proval than on something tree larorably
known. Doan’s have been tried and teat-
• _ _____ 4.. .t all ei rtirr ■IflfM
Known, iMian & *«» ‘ *
ad many yaara. Are at all drug atorea.
Ga$ Doan's today.
Doans Pills
MERRY-GO-ROUND
Civilian secretaries of state who
for years have ridden in ordinary
Pullmans are wondering how come
the military get the use of private
railroad cars—in peacetime. Gen-
eral Marshall rode in a private car
from Chicago to Washington after
bis army plane was forced down
by bad weather, whereas Henry L.
Stimson, two times secretary of war
and once secretary of state, never
got any higber than a drawing
room, .. . General Eisenhower also
I ha* a yen for private cars.
"That captain reminds me of
some one,” she said to Spang, "but
I can’t seem to remember who it
is.”
“Heydrich or Himmler, maybe.”
“Oh, no, no one like that. He
hasn’t a vicious face. He looked a
bit—pathetic, to me.”
"You’re a soft-hearted girL Old
Cyanide’s as tough as they make
’em, and the army makes ’em plen-
ty tough. He thinks all the young
officers are upstarts and ninety-day
wonders, and he resented being sent
here, I’ve been told.”
"I still think there are chinks in
his steel armor. Didn’t you have
another engagement, Spang? Don’t
let me upset your plans.”
“I hadn't any plans, except to kill
another Saturday night. And even
if I had had, they’d be unimportant
now that you’re here,”
So she glowed again, and the
world was a lovely place, even with
the sodden cloud of war hanging
over it and dimming all the fu-
ture. She would not let it dim the
present.
She said, “Shall we just walk
around and talk or would you
like to do something else?”
"There's the officer’s club. But
lt’g mostly a big poker game on
Saturday nights, I know a little
spot out this way where the floor
■Is pretty good. Like dancing?”
•'Oh. Fd love dancing.”
The place, neon-lighted, hid Its
daytime iinginess under a glitter of
gaiety.
‘‘Let’s try the corners,” Spang
laid, slipping his arm around her.
“More breathing space there.”
The dancing did not matter. Noth-
ing mattered except that Spang’s
' arm was around her, the silver
wings on his breast close to her
sheek, her band curled in his big
, palm. She could hear her own heart
BY 7i'lopflnf iHitlii
beating, lilting happily, because she
was so terribly in love.
Spang pushed her big hat back.
“Can’t see your eyes.”
His own were deep and warm and
smiling at her. His head bent close.
Was he keeping his feelings stern-
ly controlled because, as Julia had
said, he had nothing to offer a wom-
an but uncertainty or dread or
grief? Couldn’t he see that nothing
mattered, not the future, for what
was a future if you had a lovely
present to remember when it came?
Now she had to keep her eyes
cool because Spang was looking into
them, but what if all the aching
hunger in her heart welled up into
them, naive and naked and defense-
less, for him to see? So she said,
quickly, "It’s so warm in here I’m
practically swooning. Let's get
something cool to drink, shall we?”
"I doubt if we can find a table.
But we can try." Spang led her
-"There was a girl with hair like
yours, and her name was Julia,
too,” he said.
back into the dim room where heads
leaned close in every space.
She clutched his arm suddenly.
There, in a booth, his dark hand-
some head leaned close to a curled
and silvered blonde, was Ric!
Spang had seen him, too. His
face darkened, and he took her arm
to lead her past, but Jill tingled and
stiffened with sudden anger. She
marched directly up to the startled
pair and instantly Ric leaped up
and stood stiffly, until Spang made
a little gesture and muttered
something.
The blonde woman—she wasn’t a
girl, Jill saw — lifted carefully
arched eyebrows.
“How do you do, Lieutenant?” she
said, smoothly.
Ric made the introductions awk-
wardly. "My sister, Julia McFar-
lane, Mrs. Calvert. And may I pre-
sent Lieutenant Gordon?”
Jill nodded briefly, her throat
tight and aching, as she fought
back the young rage with which she
had blasted her brother so many
times.
"Nice you could get a pass, Ric,’’
she said coldly, “even if you didn’t
take the trouble to let me know."
"You were out,” Ric fumbled, "1
thought perhaps you'd gone home."
“I haven't gone home. I’U be
here in the morning and I’ll
expect to see you then.”
”1 don’t know about tomorrow. I
might be on duty.” Ric was angry
now, too.
"At ieast you’ll telephone me,"
Jill said severely. “Nice to have
seen you, Mrs. Calvert.”
be shipped out, and it would all end,
and Mother needn’t know. She dotes
on Ric so, and I couldn’t bear to
hurt and worry her, when perhaps
it was just a temporary folly."
“Ric won’t be shipped out for a
month, at least. No more quotas
coming up. But when he gets into
officer’s training, he won't have any
time for foolishness.”
“Let’s walk all the way, shall wer
Or are you awfully tired?"
“No, I like walking, I’m glad you
came down, Jill." Spang gath-
ered her arm closer. "Because I
may be leaving soon. I've asked
for my transfer to active duty. I
don’t like this desk stuff.”
“Soon?” Jill repeated in a small,
thin voice. “How soon?"
-f’We never know in this army.
But an older man can do what I’m
doing here, and things are shaping
up fast. I want to be in on them.”
"You mean you want to fly?”
“I’m a flier, Jill. And our air
force is getting to be a magnificent
thing, and I want to be a part of it.
I'll have to get back into training
—I want to learn to handle heavy
stuff.”
"I suppose it has to be that way.
I’ll miss you, Spang. I hope you’ll
miss me a little.”
Spang cleared his throat. “I’ll
miss you like the deviL But this
mess will be over sometime, a year
or two, I hope. Jill—wait a min-
ute. . . ." They were on a dimly
lighted street, a shabby street,
where a tall billboard made a dark
rectangle of shadow. Spang drew
her back further into the shadow,
bent her head back, and kissed her
swiftly on the lips. "Keep that for
me till I come back, ” he said husk-
ily.
"I will!" Jill whispered, quiver-
ing with breathless happiness from
head to foot. "Oh, Spang. I will!”
They were silent all the way bacf,
to the hotel, but Jill's blood was a
tumult, a singing. This was it'
This was real. He did care. It wal
in the pressure of his fingers 0T1
her arm, in his eyes as they came
into the lighted lobby, in his uncer-
tain smile as he prodded the eleva-
tor button.
"You’ll call me tomorrow morn-
ing? I’ll see you again?"
Not too eagerly! Slow, Jill Mc-
Farlane!
“Do my best,” he said,” and
flicked a little salute at her as the
,elevalor door opened and he turned
away.
Jill groped into the elevator.
Through the rose-colored fog that
enveloped her she was aware o*.
some one else standing there. That
cold-eyed captain Spang had called
“Old Cyanide.” He was looking at
her keenly, and when she stopped
at her floor he got out, too, and as
she turned to go down the corridor
he said," “Miss McFarlane?”
Jill stopped, puzzled.
“You are Miss McFarlane, aren't
you?”
“Yes, I am Julia McFarlane.”
“I am Roger Mackey. Pardon
me for speaking to you, but I ones
had some friends named McFarlanf
—in Tennessee.”
The Broadway Scene:
The Late Watch: Hollywood night
spot men haVe solved the puzzle on
why biz took a slump: "No more
army officers who blew a month’s
pay in a night.” . . . Prices have
come down so low that theaters of-
fering two-bit values now are charg-
ing only 85 cents. . . . School teach-
ers and nurses attention: Dishwash-
! ers in Broadway hotels now rate
t$15 daily plus meals. . . . Secy, of
State Marshall is the only World
War II vet in the U.N. council. . . .
Marion Hargrove Is working on a
syndicated idea with an Ernie Pyle
flavor. . . . Alf Drake and Bernice
Parks of "Beggar's Holiday” are
feudin’. When he’s supposed to
kiss her, he merely hugs her. (The
silly!) . . . The state seal of Georgia
motto Is: “Wisdom, Justice and
Moderation.”
Captain Mackey
Asks a Question
“I live in Tennessee.” She had
been right about him. He did look
lonely and bewildered; the hard-
ness, the bitterness the young of-
ficers had spoken of softened as
he smiled at her.
"There was a girl with hair lilts
yours, and her name was Julia,
too,” he said.
"My mother, perhaps. She was
Julia McFarlane. She married Rich-
ard McFarlane, a sort of fourth
cousin, I think.”
“It was a long time ago,” be
A Fulfillment
Of a Dream
Spang made a curt little bow, and
they walked away. Jill was trem-
bling a little, troubled by this silly
fury that had shaken her
“He lied to me," she said, when
they were out in the night again.
“But why do I care? Why should
it matter to me if he preferred be-
ing with that woman instead of me?
I suppose it’s because 1 hate seeing
some one who belongs to me doing
a cheap, dishonest trick. Spang, you
didn’t tell me she was pretty. It's
the same one, isn’t it—the woman
you told me about?”
"Yes, that’s "the one. And I don’t
think she’s pretty.”
Jill warmed a bit at that, and
her tautness lessened. They were
walking aimlessly now, the blare
and glitter of the dance spot behind
them.
’’She isn’t young, though,” she
said spitefully.
“She’s been around.” Spang sa^fi.
“She knows what the score is.”
“But what on earth does she want
with Ric? I didn’t Vrfl Mother,
Spang. I’d hoped it ought be just
a piece of foolishness that would
pass. I hoped maybe Ric would
said, “but you reminded me of that
Julia McFarlane I knew, and then
I heard your name spoken, so, I
took the liberty of speaking to you.
Your mother is quite well?”
“Oh, yes, she’s very well And
still very young and lovely looking,
we think. I'll be glad to remember
you to her, Captain Mackey.”
“I doubt if she will remember me.
It was all a very long time ago.
Before the other war, in fact. But
she was one of those women you
do not easily forget. Good night,
Miss McFarlane.”
“Good night, Captain Mackey ”
He reminded her of some one,
why couldn’t she think who it was?
She liked him. He wasn't grim a!
all.
But she forgot him quickly, and it
was weeks before she thought ol
him again, because she was in love
and Spang had kissed her. Life was
wonderful. Thin, lemon-tinted dawn
was creeping into the east before
she fell asleep.
Jill waited all morntng, wander-
ing around the room, frowning at
the telephone, but neither Ric nor
Spang called. She grew more im-
patient by the moment, though she
knew that military duty for officers
or enlisted men gave little thought
to personal desires, and little free-
dom during the day. But this was
Sunday. Ric was avoiding her, of
course. And now she would have
to go home and make up some
vague, comforting lies for her moth-
er, and old John L would look at
her with eyes like jet augers and
probably comer her somewhere lat-
er and ask her wbat was goicy
wrong with Ric.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
There seems to be a race be-
tween the British and Ameri-
can armies to see which one
gets out. of Berlin first.
We felt safer when they were
racing to get in.
Broadway Ballad: (By Don
Wahn): Let’s set it down—anc^ add
the total up. . . . And find if it was
worth the final cost. . . . There were
the inns that held the jeweled cup.
. . . There were the songs that now
are strangely lost. . . . And there
were girls to feed the flame of youth.
, . . Girls who were touched with
moenmist and delight. . . . Thene
was the quest for certainty and
truth. . . . There was the throb of
whispers in the night. ... So we
will add this gossamer of mine. . . .
Knowing full well the terror we will
find. ... An empty heart—an
empty cask of wine. . . . The futile
whimper of an eerie wind. . . . Yet,
who am I to mourn a sinner’s wake?
. , . There was no other road—
that I could take!
The politicans have suggest-
ed legislation to keep crooked-
ness out of sports. Now if some-
one will only suggest something
to keep it out of politics.
Manhattan Murals: The desert-
ed trolley tracks on 59th St. with
the Columbus Circles under their
eyes. . . . The Riverside drive milk-
man who does his chores in the
frigid weather with no coat. Just
undershirt and trousers. Exhibition-
ist .. . The lad in the NBC news-
room named Bonaparte, who says
he is a descendant of Napoleon. . . .
The gal ticket seller at Pennsy sta-
tion, who went to school with
Movietown’s Marie McDonald, still
her closest chum. Tfie walls of the
ticket booth are lined with Marie’s
photos. . . . Dunhill, famed for mak-
ing pipes, has exactly five of' them
in its huge window space (on Vth
near 50th). Everything else from
ladies’ pocketbooks on up. . . . Sign
in a 42nd St. stationer's: “Our foun-
tain pens just write.”
Sudden Thawt: Axis Sally
probably will travel first class
to the U. S. A. on a ship that
will bring dead American troops
in steerage.
Man About Town: The water-
filled trough un Broadway at 106th,
now a terminal for the new busses
that replaced the street cars that
replaced the horses. . . . The
steeples at St. Patrick's emerging
from their scaffolding cacoon as
wings of faith stretching into the
sky. . . . The little tot spanking her
dolly for falling into the 3rd avenue
gutter. . . . The Chinese Salvation
Army officer preaching in the cold
at 46th and the Main Drag. ... A
reader who saw it happen suggests
it for a coin-raising poster. A crip-
pled mendicant putting a dime in
a March of Dimes container.
Bob Hawk believes that one
big reason we find it hard to
sell democracy is because of
the poor sample case we are
showing.
Midtown Novelette: One of
the liy-by-night realty firms in
town promoted a simple-mind-
ed office boy to vice-president
at $25 per week. . . . When any
of their apartment houses lost
money they’d put it in his name
as a “present from the firm.” ...
The happy youth, however, dis-
covered that he wasn’t so lucky
as creditors foreclosed on him.
. . . The realtors repeated this
trick a dozen times. . . . Our
Hero recently died. . .. The top
salary he ever made was $40 a
week. . . . But the obit pages
■aid “he died owing $2,000,000.
Quotation Marksmanship: , J. E.
Gobson: Learn to like people in-
stead of wishing they liked you. . . .
Marcelene Cox: He sharpened his
wits on the edge of her nerves. . . .
F. M. Howard: He gave her one of
those person-to-person looks. , . .
H. Barstow: As impartial as a
traffic light. . . . S. Torrence:
She used cosmetics to edit her face.
. . . Anon: People have improved
everything except people. . . . Mar-
ya Bond: It is only fitting that the
Cracker State has a crumb as gov-
ernor. ,
If your vacuum cleaner belt
breaks when you are in the midst
o£ cleaning, put a rubber jar ring
in its place temporarily.
To make gloss paint flow more
readily, place the container in a
pan of warm water for ten min-
utes.
—•—
Try baking biscuits for meat pies
separately in one parj, while the
filling cooks in another. If the
baked biscuits are placed on filling
just before serving, there will be
no sogginess.
Ash trays carelessly dumped are
often the cause of fires in waste-
baskets.
How Sluggish folks
Get Happy Relief
WHEN CONSTIPATION nukes you feel
punk is the dickens, brings on stomach
upset, sour taste, gassy discomfort,
take Dr. Caldwell’s famous medicine
to quickly pull the triggqr on lazy “in-
nards”, and help you feU bright and
chipper again.
DR. CALDWELL’S is the wonderful sen-
na laxative contained in good old Syrup
Pepsin to make it so easy to take.
MANY DOCTORS use pepsin prepara-
tions in prescriptions to make the medi-
cine more palatable and agreeable to
take. So be sure your laxative is con-
tained in Syrup Pepsin.
INSIST ON DR. CALDWELL’S—the ta- -
vorite of millions for SO years, and feel
fro
that wholesome relief from constipa-
tion. Even finicky children love it.
CAUTION: Use only as directed.
DR. CUhWEiiS
SENNA LAXATIVE
CONTAINED IN
SYRUP PEPSIN
KID
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Thoughtful mothers, for more than 50
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Dr. DRAKE’S is prepared to give chil-
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Youngsters like its taste. Don’t wait for
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| ADDRESS.a#«•••»«••••••••••••••••••••••••• j
July . 0 «• •*#•***••*••*•*••••» • STATE a ,»•••• f
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The Jacksboro Gazette-News (Jacksboro, Tex.), Vol. 67, No. 37, Ed. 1 Thursday, February 13, 1947, newspaper, February 13, 1947; (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth732689/m1/2/: accessed July 18, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Gladys Johnson Ritchie Library.