fiL £sJoas„ Una to/i l c "PJ' rl El u . 1883 ' from your nose U to your tail, and with legs as sound to all out ward appearance as a bell of brass; as quite as a sheep, too, apparently I wonder how the deuce you came to be harnessed to a hansom cab!" These were the thoughts that ran through my mi nil one fine October after noon. as, having just finished luncheon at the Navy and Military, I found my self in Piccadilly strolling aimlessly along, and gazing at a remarkably good-looking, little brown horse be tween the shafts of a very smart han som, who walked past me in the easy, dignified way that only a thoroughbred can. T had been among horses all my life, and flattered myself I knew a good one when I saw him. "And unless you are very much mis taken, my boy," thought I to myself, "you're looking at one now." The sight of the little brown horse quite fascinated me, in fact. The cabman, a smart-looking chap, attired in a very "down-the-road" box coat, seeing me look his way, pulled up, with the inquiry: "Hansom, sir?" I jumped in without a word; not that 1 wanted to go anywhere in particular, but because I could not tear myself away from the little brown horse. It ended iq my driving about the whole of the afternoon from one place to another, and thus I had a good oppor tunity of seeing what the little nag was made of. His trotting action was like that of many thoroughbred ones, not particularly good, but he was a de lightful horse to sit behind, for lie never looked to the right nor left, but went steadily on in as old-fashioned a way as it was possible to conceive. I don't believe a traction engine even would have rufiled liis serenity of tem perament. "That's a nice horse of yours," said I, addressing the cabman on alighting at my rooms in llury street. "What's his fault? I suppose he's got one, hasn't he?" "Fault?" exclaimed my charioteer, scornfully, descending from his perch and patting the little brown horse af fectionately. "Fault? Why, bless j'er, he don't know how to spell it, this little horse don't I don't werily be lieve he never done nothing wrong in 'is bloomin' life, 'ave yer, my lad? I've drove 'iin," continued cabby, "gettin' on now for six weeks, and lie's never be? 'avod any different to wot you've seen 'im. He looked wery different, though, when I fust 'ad 'im. Where did I get 'im? Why, I bought 'im of a pal who was 'ard up and couldn't afford to keep 'im properly, and lie was a reg'lar bag o' bones, bless yer, in consekenco. lie soon picked up, though, as yer see, ami I wouldn't take fifty of anybody's money for 'im now." Well, the upshot of the whole busi ness was that after a quarter of an hour's haggling and bargaining the little brown nag became my property for the consideration of fifty-two pounds, ten shillings, an old hat and a bottle of whisky. The very next day I clapped a saddle on the back of my new purchase and rode him in the Row —which celebrated ride 1 need scarcely say I had nearly to myself—the verdict after 1 had put him through all his paces being that he was one of the very best hacks that I had ever ridden. "If you can only jump, my beauty," I thought to myself as I gave the little nag an approving slap on the neck —u compliment he seemed quite to appre ciate—"we'll bustle some of 'em up between the flags as soon as steeple chasing sets in in earnest, see if we don't." That night I dreamt I won the Grand National un liim. I was not happy now until I had "Come by Chance," as I had christened him, down in the country. Accordingly a few days afterwards 1 took him along with me to a hunting box I rented down iu Buckingham shire. * In a large field behind the house were several artificial jumps of all sorts for my horse to practice over, and hither the morning after my arrival I brought "Come by Chance" to see what he was made of. With my -groom on my best hunter to give him a lead away we went, now over the gorsed hurdles, next the post and rails and then the water jump— not a big one, certainly, but a water jump for all that. "Come by Cha nee," to my delight liked the fun just as much as I did, and, never put a foot wrong, thereby caus ing my man, who had had a good deal of experience with steeplechasers when he saw how the little horse pricked his ears and laid down his bit in approaching his fences, to remark that An his opinion "the little brown 'oss had been at the game before, or he was much mistook." "So much the better," thought 1, as I rode him triumphantly back to the stables. * Long was the confab betwixt myself and the groom afternoon as to the future career of "Come by Chance," with the result that wo decided at last to give the little nag a fortnight's rest or so and then put him in training with a vieft to winning the Tally-ho stcfpie chase at Sandown in December, a con tingency my groom was pleased to say was a moral if the horse only kept well. The programme we had mapped out for iny new purchase in horseflesh was carried out to the letter, the result be ing that when the day arrived for hiin to be boxed for Sandown it found "Come by Chance" fit to run for a king dom, and myself and groom brimful of confidenca Entcred'as Mr. Soinerfield's bay geld ing, "Come by Chance" (aged), pedigree unknown, the handicapper had let him in with only 10 sL 7 Lbs., and, with a first-rate jockey engaged to ride, I might as well bo excused for looking upon the Tally-ho steeplechase as al ready in my pocket. Mine being a dark horse, too, and trained privately, and nothing consequently being known about him, I should doubtless be enabled to get good odds about him at the post; another advantage I was lodlc ing forward to with a good deal of pleasure, you may depend. Yes, I was a proud man, 1 can tell you, that December morning, when ac companied by a few chosen friends, all in the "know," and in high spirits at getting on a real "good thing," as thej* termed it, at a long price, we started from the club in a succession of cabs bound to Waterloo station en route to Sandown. When I thought, too, of the open hearted way I had imparted the secret to everybody I knew, from my own per sonal friends down to the landlord at my 'lodging*, and the servants at the club, I felt quite a philanthropist. There should be no coining up to me with reproachful looks, and "I say, old chappie, I do think you might have put an old friend on to the 'good thing,' •pon my soul I do." Of that I wad de termined. There is nothing mean or selfish about me, thank goodness! Oh dear, no. Arrived at Sandown, we first of all proceeded in a body to the pad lock, where I introduced my friends to "Come by Chance," who, with a stable boy on his hack and led by my groom, was walking round and round in his accus tomed, old-fashioned manner. We then made tracks for tiie stand. The Tally-ho steeplechase stood third on the card, and it looked "healthy" for our luck, as one of my friends re marked when we spotted the successive winners of the two preceding events, a selling steeplechase and a hunters' hurdle. We weut in a body to the paddock to see our horse saddled, in higher spirits than ever. Alas! we little thought, as chattering and laughing wo passed through the paddock gate, how uncere moniously our mirth was about to bo dispelled, and our joy turned to woe. We were met the moment we set foot into thejnclosure by little C apt. Coper (quite the be it of the soldiers), who was to ride "Come by Chance," with a face as white nearly as the crp he wore. "I say, old feller," he exclaimed, rushing up, "there's the devil to pay over yonder," pointing, as lie spoke, with his whip to the far end of the pad dock where my horse was. "There's a bucolic party," he went on, "swearing the horse is his, and st far from being a maiden he's won hall the steeplechases in England. lie wo.** stolen from his place six months ago, so he saj's, and—but there, for heaven's salce, come and see the cove yourself. 1 don't understand it, dashed if I do!" As pale in the face by this time as my poor little friend, Coper, I hurried off, best pace, to learn the worst. Sure enough, when 1 elbowed my way through the crowd collected round my horse, there was a stout, red-faced per son of horsey appearance, evidently in a rabid state of excitement, haranguing the lookers-on generally and my unhap py groom in particular in most aggres sive fashion. "Oh! here you be at last then, be you?" was his insolent greeting as I came up. "I am Mr. Somorfield, if that's what you mean," said I, loftily. "What might you want?" "Wot might I want? Haw—haw haw, that's a good 'un, too, that is!" roared red face. "Wot might I want, indeed? Why, I want my 'oss, to be sure—my 'oss, as was stolen six months ago from my place near Burnet, where he was turned out to gruss—and vvot's more, I mean to have him." "'Come by Chance' your horse?" I p tain me red. "To be sure he is," was the confident reply—"at least Barnacles is—that's his proper name. Here's his description— ' AGO." see (pulling* a handbill from his pocket) and if you don't choose to believe mo, aslc any of the jockeys on the course; they all knows him, bless you, as well us they knows their own fathers. "'Come by Chance,* indeed!" shouted red-facc, contemptuously. "It's mo as should be called 'Come by Chance,' I fancy, for it was only at the lost minute 1 made up my mind to come 'ere." Alas! it was all true that he said, and "Come by Chance," late Barnacles, was, of course, to the Infinite chagrin of ail of us, ineligible to compete fot the Tally-ho steeplechase. I could not make up my mind, however, to part with the little horse, and I therefore made overtures with the rough dia mond who owned him for his purchase. It was only after a larrish use of all the i persuasive powers I had about me, and the consumption of several bottles of i champagne, with one or two glasses oi brandy and water thrown in, that I at ! last succeeded in effecting a deal. Though I paid what seemed a lot of money for him. the little horse turned out a real bargain in the long run, for not only did he win me, ridden by my friend Tommy Coper, no end of races, but he succeeded last year in running into a place for the Grand National. If my sporting readers see "Come by i Chance, late Barnacles," amongst the entries for the Liverpool next March, 1 don't forget to back him—for a "shop," at all eventa IN WOMAN'S BEHALF GIRL BACHELORS. Tlwy Arc a Widely Dlxcaued atul Ind. Perhaps no class of women are more widely discussed to-day than the un- , married women who can and do earn their own living*. A new name has j even been coined for this product of modern civilization—she is the "girl bachelor" to the critics who praise and j blame. She has had at least a tiny I space in almost every paper of note, and all agree on some points. That she ' is selfish, infinitely selfish —holds a sort | of monopoly, as it were, of that uneom- I mon trait—seems to be a favorite theme of her critics. They also assert that she must necessarily become unwoman- ' ly, and one of them went further re- | cently and said that .the old maid of j other days who was "housliold servant in general" to any or all of her rela tives had a brighter future before her than the single woman of to-day who supports herself. The great advancement made by wom en in the last half century is largely due to the fact that they are, in a meas ure at least, free to earn their own liv ing by doing the work which they can do best, no matter what that may be. Only in independence can any class of human beings reach their highest development, and if the unselfishness and true womanliness so much praised and lamented as a tiling almost lost in this day means "ignorance and a weak yielding to any fate rather than make an effort to help one's self, it is not such a bad loss after all. Looking back at the life of the single woman of the "good old days." I am deeply impressed with the privilege of living in these un* regenerate times. Fifty years ago the single women of middle age was felt to have no mission in life save to be the unpaid and gener ally unthanked drudge for such of her relations as were willing to give her food and shelter. This wasoften given grudgingly enough, especially as she advanced in years and became less able to work. Passed from one to another, as her services were needed or her pres ence became tiresome, she truly "had not where to lay her head." She was regarded and made to feel that she was an object of charity and must bo content with- whatever her more for tunate relatives were willing to give her. She might nurse, teach, doctor, keep house, minister to the wants of any or all of her relatives, but wages for her faithful services was an un heard-of thing. There were exceptions, of course, just as there were slaves who were better off in slavery than in freedom, but the tendency was bad. It gave the idea that women were incapable of support ing themselves. They were not edu cated to any special calling, because to be "somebody's wife" or somebody's old maid servant did not require any special training. A woman who could carry on a busi ness, edit a paper, or run her own farm to a profit was almost as rare as a red headed Indian. Even literary work was looked upon as unwomanly. No wonder women turned to marriage as the last hope, and prayed, "Any one, -good Lord, will do." With the war, which desolated so many homes anil forced upon so main women the necessity of earning money or starving, came the awakening to the fact that there was a wide field for women outside of domestic service. Men were so scarce that women iiail a chance to show their mettle. It might be said of the civil war that it, resulted in the freeing of the Negroes and the old maids. The single woman—the girl bachelor of to-day, is often the mainstay and money-earning member of her family. For every independent single woman who lives in case and gay "bachelor hood" there are ten who are the bread winners for a family. They do not make a fuss over it, either, but go quietly about their business as a man would, making no pretense of good ness, simply doing their duty, and a little proud, perhaps, of their ability to do it well. When one remembers the innumerable charities to which women give so lavishly of their time and money, the charge that selfishness is likely to come with freedom seems un founded. One point more. Circumstances have made the girl bachelor. All our litera ture of to-day, from the highest re view to the penny newspaper, preaches the necessity of independence for single women. Parents and schools teach it: it iis expected of the average girl that she shall be able to earn her own liv ing in some way. From babyhood this idea is instilled into her mind, and usually she "rises to the occasion" nobly and successfully. Moreover, male relatives are n. longer willing to give homes to the single women of their families, and few married women care to admit a single relative permanently to their home circle. In these days of extravagant living few men can afford to offer asy lums to their unmarried female rela tives; their incomes will not jusliy the extra expense. And they are likely to think and to say: "With the many opportunities open to women, she can make her own living as 1 make mine. Why should she expect to be a burden on my shoul ders?" This may sound hard, and be thought untrue—perhaps it is untrue of the richer classes —but "down among the rose roots," among the "great common people," from which class the girl bach elor most often comes, it is sadly true Put the girl bachelor does not expect support. "The bread of charity is bit ter," she knows well, and that of hon est toil is very sweet So she goes her way, busy, honest and independent, knows the pleasure of earning what she spends and spending what she earns, and the content that only comes to those who owe no man a cent She is only solitary from necessity, as witness the innumerable clubs, "homes" and flats in which working women congregate. And as for rub bing off the sharp corners—well, those of us who have really had to work for a living* know that our contact with the world in the struggle for bread generally polishes us off. It may be—we l.now it is—much pleasantcr to have one's own home cir cle to love and work for. llut all can not Miave this, and there often the : independent single woman of the fain- i ily is the sturdy oak, while the other | members are the "clinging vines." Such lives as those of Louisa M. Al- j cott, Clara Harton, Florence Nightin- j gulc and Susan 11. Anthony are enough | to prove that the independent woman j is not necessarily a selfish woman.— Sharlot M. Hall, in Detroit Free Press. j A WOMAN OF THE WORLD. sho Is a (>rcHt mousing to Bvery On© She ( Meets. She had been talking pleasantly to two or three women; she had made her ! good-byes all cheerful and bright, and, after she had disappeared, one woman ; turned to another and in a tone that was scoffing: "She is a thorough woman of the world." Now in this case the woman who had said none but pleasant words, who had stopped bj' a bright story the discussion of a petty scandal, was a woman who was as brave-lieartcd as any that ever lived and who bore, not only her own, but the burdens of a good many other people, yet she saw no reason why she should inflict her troubles on her friends, nor why, while she was in the world, she should not be in its best sense a woman of the world. A woman of the world is one who feels that the story told to hurt your feelings is essentially bad form. A woman of the world is the one who is courteous to old people, who laughs with the young and who makes herself agree to all women in all conditions of life. A woman of the world is one who makes her good-morning a pleasant greeting, her visit a bright spot in the day and her good-by a hope that she may come again. A woman of the world is one who does not gauge people by their clothes, or their riches, but who condemns bad manners. A woman of the world is one who does not let her right hand know what her left hand does. She does not dis cuss her charities at an afternoon tea, nor the faults of her family at a pray er-meeting. A veritable woman of the world is the best type of a Christian, for her very consideration makes other women long to imitate her. Remember that Christ came into the world to save sin ners and be in the world and among it and the people who made it, and to do your work as a woman of the world means more than speaking from plat form or assumed elevation. A woman of the world is one who is courteous under all circumstances and In every condition in which she may be placed. She is the woman who can re ceive the unwelcome guest with a smile so bright and a handshake so cordial that in trying to make the welcome seem real it becomes so. A woman of the world is one whose love for human ity is second only in her life's devotion, and whose watchword is unselfishness in thought and action. Ily making self last it finally becomes natural to have it so.—Florence Wilson, in Ladies' llomo Journal. Plucky Women. A meeting of the Alliance in an Ar kansas county was attacked by a mob. All the men ran away and, for what we have heard to the contrary are still running. The women held their ground, and Mrs. Duncan mounted a box and told the mob it "ought to be ashamed of itself." And yet they tell us that Eve was taken from under Ad am's arm as a symbol that man will protect woman. A ltrlght Newspaper Woman. Miss Eva Lovering Shorey, the new president of the Ladies' Aid societies of Maine, is only twentv-onc years old. She was born in Hridgton, Me., and after being graduated from its high school became the business editor of the Hridgton News, published by her father. She possesses the journalistic instinct, and can do go6d work ii) near ly any department of the paper.—N. Y. World. POINTS OF INTEREST. MRS. MARY RAXLETT has built up an extensive business in a sailors' ship ping office. She furnishes seamen in any desired nuhiber. THE new factory inspection law of Pennsylvania requires that of tin* deputy inspectors five shall be women. They receive a salary of $1,200 a year. THERE is to be no lack of openings for female medical practitioners in this j country, for the Indian bureail an- ! nounces seventeen vacancies for worn- J en. PRINCESS LOUISE, in the studies tlwit j have resulted in the production of the I queen's status at Kensington, had the 1 assistance of Miss Henrietta Montalba, a talented Canadian woman. MRS. PEARY, of Arctic fame, is a tall, j willowy woman, whose personality is | very attractive. She says her height aroused much curiosity among the Es- : qulmau women, who are rather below ! size, and they were anxious to know if ! all white women were "so high." IN Roumania there are women who are modified commercial travelers, j They do not deal with merchants, but with families, making a specialty of j supplying trousseaux and similar out tits. They are from Paris, and carry quite large stocks with them. IN the last year four hundred pat ents have been applied for in England by women. Some of these have refer ence to textile manufactures and elec | trical and railway appliances, and j articles for the use of the sick have also received considerable attention. Now, then, since the best thoughts | are to rule, let women think the best ' ones—best lor the nice. Hut in r<lcr to do this she must keep herself in formed of what is going on in the world about her. She must feel that it is in all respects just as much her world as ; man's world, and that equally with | him she is concerned in the managc ' meat of its affairs.— Abby Morton Diaz AN ERA OF RETICULES. Woll-Dresaod Women Havo One for Every Gown. They Are Not Kxpi'iislve, Hut Useful am* Decidedly Clilc—How Soiue liigenl.-iu* Women Have Developed n Pretty Idea. If you want to be very chic just now | you must wear with every gown, be it i for the promenade or house, some sort | of a "reticule" in which kerchief, poek i etbook, card-case or lozenge box may | be stowed away with the double con j venienoe of a pocket. ! Tlio most voguish street reticule. | keeping apace with modish gowning, 1 is made of hop sacking, and seldom 1 claims anything more elaborate in the way of decorations than a tiny nose ! gay of violets, pinks rosebuds • tacked down in one corner of the quaint bag. Girls who can afford it secure this blossom supply direct from Dame Na ' ' j TOR THE PROMENADE, ture, but others who cannot indulge in the luxury of natural blooms substi tute for them bunches of silken or vel vet posies. Lovely in its way, hut fantastic enough to cause the greatgrand mother of the owner to stare her eyes out in wonder, is the reticule of a cer tain dainty damsel who catches a few dress Paris luid develops them in prettiest style herself. This reticule, the owner assures me, MI car ried only with her favorite toilets, and after a glimpse of the exquisite crea tion one does not wonder that she prizes it. It is fashioned of shot "rain bow" gauze made over a white satin foundation. In the center of the gauze is a branch of cherries painted in wa ter colors, while about the top, sides and bottom of the bag are gathered three ruffles, one above the other, the first of satin, the second of shot gauze, while surmounting this is a waterfall of white lace. Amid the sheen of satin and of foamy lace, at the top, several clusters of ripe red cherries are tucked, luscious looking even in their artifi ciality. Each of the four corners of the bag is tipped with a bunch of cherries, and the wide white satin ribbon from which the reticule swings is finished at the top with a lace rosette centered with an especially tempting specimen of the fruit. On another equally dainty reticule the cherries are replaced by bunches of sweet peas, and still another of these conceits has a gauze butterfly se cured in the middle and one at each corner of the lustrous old-pink satin bag. Frail as these trifles appear, they are really very convenient little stow aways, taking the place of a pocket in a charming manner. Hesides offering a home for its owner's fan, handker chief and vinaigrette, the evening reticule also acts as a flower-holder. With one of theso bags swung from her arm the esthetic miss has no need to carry her flowers in her hand. She opens the reticule, slips down in its depths the stems of the blooms, draws A "CHERRY-RIPE" RETICULE. ! the ribbons loosely together, while peeping out of the top in sauciest fashion are the buds and blossoms of the bouquet. I I know a bright-witted young woman ! who utilized her reticule for preserv ing, the evening through, some very choice blooms which in the heat of a crowded room would soon have lost. ; their fragrance with their beauty, j How did she do it? Why, in the sim plest manner possible. Just before leaving home the girl cut in two a raw potato. Making sev eral holes in each half she inserted the stem of a flower in each, storing away potato and stems loosely wrapped in tissue paper into the reticule There's j ! nothing better than a raw potato in j I which the stems of the blooms have j ' been inserted for keeping fresh flow ers which have to be out of water for several hours; and in this ease the ef i feet was wonderful. , Before the evening was half over . ; most of the belles carried a bouquet , reduced to a hopelessly wilted condi tion, while my little friend had the 1 satisfaction—thanks to the potato—of ! enjoying to the last moment the fresh 1 beauty of her posy-laden reticule.— Dorothy Maddox, in Chicago Record. | Great Length of Seaweed. j Some species of seaweed grow to the j I length of 500 yarda • I CASTOR I A for Infants and Children. "Castor! a is so well adapted to children that I recommend it as superior to any prescription known to me." 11. A. ARCHER, M. D., 11l So. Oxford St., Brooklyn, N. Y. "The use of 'Caatoria* Is so universal and its merits so well known that it seems a work of supererogation to endorse it. Few are the intelligent families who do uot keep Castoria within easy reach." Cantos MARTYN, D. D., New York City. Late Pastor Blooniingdalo Reformed Church. THE CENTAUR COMPANY, 77 MURRAY STREET, NEW YORE. RIPANS LABULES J Ripans Tabules act gently but promptly upon the liver, I ; stomach and intestines; cure habitual constipation and dis pel colds, headaches and fevers. One tabule taken at the first symptom of a return of indi- ; gestion, or depression of spir its, will remove the whole dif ficulty within an hour. | Ripans Tubules are com- • pounded from a prescription :i used for years by well-known physicians and endorsed by the highest medical authori ties. In the Tabules the stand ard ingredients are presented in a form that is becoming the . fashion with physicians and : patients everywhere. One Boy (Six Vials) Seventv-five Cents. I One \ u :;..ge (Four Boxes) Two Dollars. I RipansTabules may be ob tained of nearest druggist; or : > b" mail on receipt of price. For free sample address n:PANS CHEMICAL CO. NEW YORK. AT mZjk&pw ft Ux^IyPLEASMiT THE NEXT MORNING I FEEL BRIGHT AND NEW AND MY COMPLEXION IS BETTER. , My doctor suya It acta prontly on the stomach, liver and kidneys, and Is a pleasant laxative. This drink Is mado from herbs, and is prepared for Use as easily as tea. It la called LAHE'SMEDI&IHE All druggist 8 noil It at 000. mi-: f I.ooapackage. If loucannotuet it.HOiid > onrmJdrc..s for froosnniphv Fnr.lljr il c-.lt. 1..0 tl.o i, .„ , I. . „,-h 4 * 7 bßArdu F/WOOI/H liti), . i FRAZER GREASE BUST IS THE WORLD. Ifswearing qualitleßure uneurpnsaed, actually outlasting two boxes of tiny other brand. Not. effected by beut. E WO ET TIIE GEM VIM Mi. FOR RALE BY DEALERS GENERALLY. /?/*• "AN |"D 'EA LTIA MILY "M EDTCTHTI | For IndlycMtlon. 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Sold by John Smith, Birkhoek Brick. j READ THE TRIBUNE— I —ONLY *1.50 PER YEAR. 1 Caatoria cures Colic, Constipation, Sour Stomach, Diarrhoea, Eructation, Kills Worms, gives sleep, aud promotes di gestion, Without injurious medication " For several years 1 have recommended your 4 Caatoria,' and shall always continue to do so us it has invariably produced benclicial results." EDWIN F. PARDEE, M. D., " The Winthrop," 125 th Street and 7th Ave., ' New York City. F ENT ' FIO MER ' CAN TO IB TRADE marks, £ DESICN PATENTS, COP YRICHTB, etc. For information nnd frco ITnndbook write to MUNN A CO., SCI BROADWAY, NEW YORK. Oldest bureau for securing patents in America. 1 Every patent taken out by us is brought before the public by a notice given free of churge in tho FNEUTIFIC JUUMATI Largest circulation of any scientific paper In tho i world. Splendidly Illustrated. No intelligent man should be without it. Weekly. **.'{. OO a y oar J f 1.50 Six months. Address MUNN A CO., PUBLISH sits, 301 BroaUwuy, New l urk City. rafe a rl ' ■ \ > * \ ft */ '' -VI < • ?•* - ' i.i . Wp Id B t:i c-. - r N KSIFE ' ■ • .-^'4 v-i tl EeßP|o!/r mmm m , ItC-rrsVcM.' • nta, ;... .iti m.. A I Oer* ir. cvro fcr Consurnnlun in fi:;: >■ •u, ar.d m. |r relief in advr.v- I stag-: V- You v.U *eth • • - • '• • • tin? • %'•% fi-.Bt •- t • L*. -, w .. . LA* > bottles 60 cent s ur. j . I .' 1 . Caveats, and Trade-Marks obtained, and all Pat- i 5 cnt business conducted for MODERATE FEES. # J Oun OFFICE IS OPPOSITE U.S. PATENT OFFICE J { J nnd we can secure patent in less time than those 5 s remote from Washington. # Send model, drawing or photo., with descrip-J stion. We advise, if patentable or not, free of i # charge. Our fee not due till patent is secured. S T A PAMPHLET, "Mow to Obtain Patents,'' with# J cost of same in the U. S. and foreign countries 5 $ sent free. Address, S ;'C, A.SNIOW&COJ OPP. PATENT OFFICE, WASHINGTON, D. WE TELL TOO ! nothing new when we state that it pays to engage in a permanent, most In-ulthy and pleasant busi ness, that returns a profit for every day's work. Such is the business we otter the working class. We teach them how to make money rupidly, and - guarantee every one who follows our instructions faithfully tlic making of JNUOO.OO a month Every one who takes hold now and works will surely and speedily increase their earnings; there can bo no Question about it; others now at work are doing it, and you, reader, can do the same. This is the best paying business that you have ever had the chance to secure. You will make a grave mistake if you fail to give it a trial at once. If you grasp the situation, and act quickly, you will directly find yourself in a most prosperous business, at which you ctln surelvmako nnd save large sums of money. Tin* results ~f only a few hours' work will often equal u week's wages. Whether you are old or voting, man or woman, it makes no dlflerenc\— <R> as we tell you, and suc cess will meet you at the very start. Neither experience or capital necessary. Those who work for us are rewarded. Whv not write to-day tor lull particulars, free ? E. V ALLEN X CO., Box No 4"0, Augunta, Mo. TALES FROM TOWN TOPICS. O/-I year nf the most successful Quarterly -£U ever published. More than .'S.OOO LEADING NEWS PAPERS in North America have conn limcntcd I this publication during its tirst year, and uoi j versully concede that its numbers afford the brightest anil most entertaining reading that can be had. i Published ist day of September, December. | March and June. Ask Newsdealer for it, or send the price, BO cents. •' stamps or postal note to TOWN TOPICS, 21 West 23d St., Now York. ; i~- Tills brilliant Quarterly is vet made up from the , vrrent year's issues of TOWN Tones, nut contains the best stories, sketches, bur lesques, poems, witticisms, etc.. from the hi {• nilnt,h is of that unique journal, admittedly rnrj, st , mi , s , comp i,. t ,.. m „i a ft i - N VVOtIUN ,he must iuteresU j ing weekly ever issued. Subscription Price: T:*n Topics, per yew, - -$4 00 Tales From Tots Topics, per year, 2.C0 Tin tTO clubbed, - - . o.co T UVN Tones sent months on trial for I 1.00. N. IL- Previous Nos. of "TAIK;' will be i tnptly forwarded, postpaid, uu receipt o| 5 ceiitu cucli.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers