6 IT CANNOT BE. tt cannot be. my God. It cannot be! When day by day from out the dawn- InR sklea. Thy morning sun smites on my opening eyes, IJndi mined revealing radiant land and sea, *nd years still find my strength as ever strong— That some time all must cease, and come the hour When this poor handful of brave, mortal power Dissolves, a rope of sand, while round me throng The somber shadows of a dawnless night! Nay, but 1 w*eu some morning I shall wake And on my sight a scene familiar break, And yet transfigured somehow, in the light Of suns more golden, «kies more crystal clear. And my soul marveling understand at last. That in brief sleep my ready feet have passed Dry-shod the still, dark river without fear. That consciousness to consciousness Is bound. Pearl close to pearl, linked in one shining chain, Whose perfect thread was never snapped in twain, Life knew no lapse, and Is not now re found, But never lost, and its full tides proclaim Through all eternity, my God, Thy name! —Stuart Sterne, in Springfield tMass.) Re publican. | THE STURGIS WAGER I 9 A DETECTIVE STORY. ff 3 9 By EDGAR MORETTE. 4 fj; Cop} right, 1890, by Frederick A. Stokes Co. CHAPTER VII.—CONTINUED. Not a word of affection had passed between father and daughter; not a caress had been interchanged. The re lations between this impassive man and his charming daughter were those of well-bred, if somewhat distant, rela tives. On the one hand there was the uniform courtesy of the man of the world toward a woman; 011 the other, the deference of a young girl of good breeddny toward a person much older than herself. But the note of cordial and intimate affection between father and child was absolutely missing. And yet Agnes Murdock was natural ly of an affectionate and expansive na ture. During her mother's lifetime the two women had been Inseparable com panions, united by a stroug bond of sympathy. Mrs. Murdock had been an invalid for many years before her death, and with Agnes had lived either abroad or in the south during much of the time in order to escape the rigors of the northern climate. Thus the father, en grossed as he was with his occupations und his scientific researches, had seen but little of his daughter during her childhood, and had been looked upon by the child'almo&it as a stranger. When at last, after her mother's death, Agnes, heartbroken at the loss of her only friend, returned to the par ental roof, she was a girl of 10. In the first loneliness of her bereavement, when, hungering for human sympathy and consolation, she turned to her fa ther, she received patient and) cour teous attention, with an offer of all the material comforts and luxuries which wealth could procure; but she failed to find the only thing she needed —a responsive human heart. And yet, behind the cold and selfish exterior of the chemist, the young girl had touched a chord which had never vibrated before in this strange man's being. It is probable that the feeling awakened in him by his lovely daughter was the nearest approach to an absorb ing human affection of which liisnature was capable. Perhaps if the child) had been sufficiently experienced to read her father's heart she might have per sisted in her advances, and thus ulti mately have conquered the cold reserve she had at first encountered. But she was proud and impulsive, and, bitterly disappointed in her first attempt to win from lie.' father a demonstration of affection, she withdrew into her iso- Jation, and ever after met his calm cour tesy with an equally reserved defer ence. The abnormal situation, which at first was maintained only by an ef fort on the part of the young girl, lost with time much of its strangeness, and ultimately crystallized under the po tent force of habit, so that it was ac cepted by the two as the natural out come of their relationship. In the first pang of her bereavement and disappointment Agnes had turned for consolation to her books; and, be ing left free to dispose of her life as shu saw fit, she had planned a course of study, which had indue time re ceived its consecration at one of the leading colleges for women. Upon her return from college she bad, as far as the was permitted, taken charge of her father's household, and had presided with charming dignity and grace over the social functions for which Dr. Murdock's house now be came famous. Up to the time of his daughter's advent the chemist's rela tions with the world had been chiefly through the clubs and scientific bodies to which he belonged. He was well re ceived in the homes of the members of New York society; but in the absence of a woman to do the honors of hisown home he was unable to return the hos pitality which he enjoyed. Now, how ever, everything was changed. Agnes was glad to find an outlet for her en ergies 111 the task of receiving her fa ther's guests, and, being a girl of re markable intelligence and tact, she suc ceedd in creating a salon, in the best sense of the word. Many of the shin ing lights of the world of art, litera ture, science and fashion were among thß regular devotees at the shrine of this superb young goddess. Among the younger men more than one guy moth, dazzled by the light of the girl's beautiful eyes, had been templed to hover near the flame, only to scoreh his wings. Miss Murdock had already lefused several of the "best matches" of the city during her two seasons, much to the relief of those young men who had not yet sum moned up courage enough to try their fate, and much to the disgust of a few amiable young women and several de signing mammas. The latter could not help but deprecate the wicked selfish ness of a young girl who hypothecated and thus rendered temporarily un available much potential matrimonial stock, which, ia the nature of things, would ultimately be thrown back on (he market upon the selection by the fair one of that single bond to whose exclusive possession rhe was limited by the laws of church and state. The fact of the matter was, that Agnes Murdock's ideal of life was high. She was determined, if she ever eni bark«*d upon a matrimonial venture, to do so only with a reasonably good prospect of finding in the wc dded state a satisfactory outlet for the depths of affection which had remained so long unapplied in her tender maiden heart. No one among the young men who had sought her hand had seemed worthy of the great love she was ready to bestow. She was, therefore, still awaiting her fate. "You wished to see me, sir?" the young girl gently insinuated. "Yes," said Murdock, with great de liberation; "I wished to speak to you about—" He watched her face intently, as if to read the effect which his words would produce. The light in his eyes was almost tender; but Agues was not skilled in reading their scarcely per ceptible shades of expression. She looked up inquiringly, noting only the slight hesitation in her father's speech. "About a young man —" continued Murdock, with a quizzical smile. A flush mounted to the girl's cheeks, and she fixed her eyes upon space. "A young man who admires you greatly, and who—" "lias he asked you to tell me this?" inquired Agnes, somewhat impatiently. "Oh! dear 130," laughed the chemist; "he is only too anxious to do so him self. He is a most impetuous fellow. But I thought it best to prepare you—" "May I ask the name of your pro tege?" interrupted the young girl. "Did I say he was my protege?" asked Murdock, gently. "I certainly had no intention of conveying any such impression. His name is Chat ham —Thomas Chatham." A look, half of amusement, half of vexation, came into the girl's eyes. It did not escape Murdock's close scrutiny. "I judge from your reception of the gentleman's name, that, his suit is not. likely to meet with much favor in your eyes." "I am not aware that I have ever given Mr. Chatham any reason to be lieve that it would," answered Agnes, stiffly. "And yet you must have understood the drift of his attentions during the last few months, since—" "Since it has been perfectly clear to every one else, you mean? "And yet," the young girl continued, reflectively, "I do not see how, with out downright rudeness, I could have done more than I have to show him that his attentions have been distaste ful to me." "Then I may infer," said Murdock, smiling, "that you would not break your heart if—" He seemed to hesitate in the choice of his words. "If he should conclude togo abroad on a long journey without subjecting you to his impending proposal." "On the contrary, father," admitted Agnes, "I should be everlastingly grateful to you if such a consumma tion could be brought about without unnecessary rudeness or cruelty to wards Mr. Chatham." "Very well, Agnes, that is all I want ed to see you about." Agnes looked curiously at her father, as if to read the purpose hidden in the depths of his inscrutable eyes. She saw nothing but a polite dismissal in his calm face; and the interview be tween father and daughter ended, as it had begun, with formal courtesy on both sides. CHAPTER VIII. THE PORTRAIT. Sprague was seated before his easel arranging his palette for the morn ing's work. The unfinished portrait of Agnes Murdock looked dowu upou him with eyes of living beauty. Occasional ly the artist would bestow a deft touch upon the glowing canvas and would retire to a distance to note with a critical eye the new effect. Then he would consult his watch in nervous im patience; and, going to the window, lie would glance anxiously up and down the street. Once or twice the rumble of wheels caused him to look up in glad expectancy, which gradual ly gave way to gloomy discontent as the noise died away in the distance. At length hope seemed to depart al together from the young man's breast. He threw down his brushes, gave up all pretense of work ajid drifted oft' into a brown study. His eyes, fixed upon those of the portrait, had a troubled look in them—so troubled that it was clearly out of all proportion to the professional disappointment of a paint er kept waiting for a fair subject. So absorbed did he become in his gloomy meditations, that, when at last a carriage stopped before the house, the artist did not hear it. But when, presently, a gentle tap sounded upou the door of the studio, he sprang to his feet as if he had received an electric shock. Perhaps he had; for it was followed by a rapid current of delicious thrills tingling through every nerve and ef fecting in his whole being a sudden and marvelous transformation. At once the furrowed brow was smooth; the drooping lips were wreathed in smiles; the troubled look gave way to one of glad welcome. For she had come at last. There she CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 1900. stood, with laughing brown eyes and glowing cheeks, when Sprague threw open the door. Alas, as usual, she was accompanied by her maid. Never mind; was it not enough to have her there at all, to bask in the sunshine of her smile, to look into the dangerous depths of those soul-stirring eyes, to listen to the rippling of her silvery voice? "I fear I am a little late, Mr. Sprague; I am sorry to have kept you waiting. But you see this is how it was—" What mattered it to him now how it was? Was she rot there? An eternity of suspense and misery would have been wiped out by that single entran cing fact. Her words beat upon his ear like rapturous melody; he drank them in. hardly conscious of their meaning. Agnes Murdock, followed by her maid, proceeded at once to the dress ing-room set apart for the use of the artist's models. When she returned, dressed for the sitting, she assumed un der Sprague's directions the pose of the portrait, while the artist critically ar ranged her draperies and adjusted the shades and screens. The maid had remained in the dress ing-room. "And so these are positively the last final touches, are they, Mr. Sprague?" asked the young girl, mischievously, after a few minutes. "You artists seeni to be quite ar, uncertain about your farewell appearances as any famous ac tress or singer." The artist looked up quickly as the girl spoke. An expression of pain crossed his features. "Yes, Miss Murdock," he answered, gravely. "I shall not have to trouble you to pose again." Miss Murdoch's attention was at tracted by the melancholy note in his voice. She observed him from the cor ner of her eyes in kindly curiosity. The artist fell into a moody silence. For awhile he worked with feverish ac tivity at the portrait; and then, grad ually falling into a fit of melancholy abstraction, he sat, with poised brush, gazing intently at the beautiful girl before him. His task forgotten, he was apparently unconscious that he was taking advantage of his privileged position to stare at his fair subject. Ag nes felt his burning glance and was em barrassed by it; but, womanlike, she retained control of herself, outwardly, at all events, as she uttered some com monplace remark, which broke the spell and brought the artis* to his senses with a sharp consciousness of his rudeness. He replied to the young girl's question in a low, changed voice, and then relapsed into a gloomy silence. After an awkward interval he asked, suddenly: "Are you so very glad. Miss Murdock, that our sittings are almost over?" "Why. no, Mr. Sprague," replied Ag nes; "I did not mep that. Of course "YES, MISS, A GENTLEMAN LEFT IT FOK YOU." I shall be glad when the portrait is finished, because I wish to have it home and to let my friends see it. But 112 should be indeed ungrateful if I be grudged my poor little time and trou ble, when yours have been so lavishly and so ungrudgingly spent." "These sittings have been a source of so much pleasure to me," continued Sprague, thoughtfully, "that I hnvo selfishly overlooked the fact that they could only be an annoyance and a bore to you. I fear 1 have needlessly pro longed them." "But, indeed, Mr. Sprague, I assure you it has been anything but a bore to me to pose, I am sure 1 shall mi*si the pleasant morning hours 1 have spent here." "They have been the happiest hours of my life," said Sprague, earnestly, in a low voice, "pnd now they are nearly gone—forever." Agnes started slightly, blushedl and riveted her gaze upon the dainty white hands which lay clasped together in her lap. Her bosom rose and fell in quickened undulations. "Why forever, Mr. Sprague?" she asked, softly; "do you think of leav ing New York?" "No," he replied quickly; "it is you who are about to desert this studio, which for a short time has been brightened by your presence—" "Well," interrupted Agnes, "since you are not going to leave New York, I hope you will continue to call on us." "I suppose I shall continue to call on your reception days, if that is what you mean," said Sprague, some what disconsolately. "Now that." laughed Agnes, "is not in line with the polite things you have been saying." "I did not mean to say anything rude. Miss Murdock, but a call on your reception day is a call on your guests Surrounded as you are on such occasions, one has barely a chance to catch a glimpse of you. much less to speak with you." "We are always glad to see our friends at other times than on our reception days." "I)o you really mean it?'' asked the artist eagerly. "May I call on you sometimes when the crowd is not tnere?" "We shall be happy to have you call at any time, Mr. Sprague." Sprague thought he detected a slight emphasis on the pronoun. "But it is not we I wish to call on. It is you, Miss Murdock." "Of course I shall be pleased fa have you call at any time, Mr Sprague," she said, alter a brief in stant. What more could any sane man ex pect a modest girl to say? It is not so much the words spoken as the manner of their utterance that conveys mean ing. But it is a truism that a lover is not a sane man. Sprague was not yet satisfied. He was about to speak again, when a knock sounded upon the door. It was the liall-boy with a letter. "Miss Murdock?" he inquired, glanc ing in the direction of the young girl. "For me?" exclaimed Agnes, sur prised. "Yes, miss; a gentleman left it for you." Agnes took the letter, inspected it curiously for an instant; then, ex cusing herself, she tore open the en velope and unfolded the note which it contained. At once a deep flush suffused her face, and an expression of annoyance passed over her features. She glanced up hastily at Sprague. who was ap parently hard at work upon the back ground of the picture. The liall-boy was waiting expect antly. "There is no answer," said Agnes quietly. And as the stern mandates of fash ion either forbid a woman to wear a pocket, or else decree that it shall be located in some particularly inac cessible position, the young girl dropped the letter and its envelope into her lap and resumed the pose. When at last the time came for Miss Murdock to leave, Sprague ac companied her to her carriage. After watching it until it disappeared around the corner, he returned mood ily to the studio. As he entered the room, his eyes fixed in a vacant stare upon the floor, he caught sight of something white —a sheet of paper —resting there. Me chanically he pushed it to one side with his foot. The sunshine seemed to have gone with Agnes Murdock. A gloom had fallen upon the place and its occu pant. The artist tried to work; but he was restless and depressed. At length he threw down his brushes; and rising from the easel, he put on his hat and coat and started out for a walk, in the Itope that exercise would drive away the blue devils whose grip he fe4t tightening upon his heartstrings. Meeting some friends in the course of his aimless wanderings, he was persuaded to spend the rest of the day in their company, and returned to his bachelor quarters late in the evening, tired enough physically to obtain that healthful sleep which is the boon of strong youth. [To Bs Continued.l ROYALTY SPANKED. Henry IV. Gave Order* That II in Son Should lie Property Clia-stlved. The family of Henri IV.'s children at St. Germain did not, however, al ways submit to the dauphin's whirns, says Mrs. Lucy Crump, in Atlantic. One quaint little scene shows his eld est sister standing up for the rest. The king had directed Mme. de Mong lat to give the Yendome and Verneuil children their dinner with the dau phin and his sisters. Louis received the order to allow Verneuil and the chevalier to dine with him as a teVri ble insult. "Valets should not dine with their masters," he said, angrily. Little Madam Elizabeth preached at him from her end of the table: "Ha, Jesus, monsieur, you must not do like that. Nobody thinks yon the king's only son. One mustn't have fancies. One gets spanked for them, smack, smack. Mamanga will whip you." The dauphin held his pea«e, for whip ping was no empty threat in the nursery at. St. Germain. When Louis was six years old, the king thus wrote to Mme. de Monglat, the "mamanga" of nursery language: "I a.tn vexed with you because you have not sent me word that you have whipped my son, for I wish and com mand you to whip him every time he is willful or naughty, knowing by my own experience that nothing will do him so much good." And yet to mod ern ideas Mme. de Monglat does not seem to have erred on the side of leni ency. From the time the little prince was two years old "fouette pour etra opiniatre" was a very frequent entry of Herouard's. Evidently Sinking Fast. "Doctor!" cried the excited man,"l want you to come up to the house right away." "Dear me!" returned the doctor, reaching for his coat, "has your wife had a turn for the worse?" "Turn for the worse!" exclaimed the excited man. "Why, she hasn't spoken more than 15 or 20 times in the last hour and a half!"— Chicago Post, Wifely Wisdom. "How did you finally break your hus band of smoking in the parlor?" "I threatened to make a smoking jacket for him myself if he didn't quit." —Chicago Tribune. Depends on Clrrnnutnnrea, She—Do you think it prope* for a woman to propose? He—Certainly, if she can support a husband. —Town Topic». MUST BE STRONG AND JUST. Speaker Henderson Br»rrlt)f« aj Ideal <»overmaieiit An Address li> Kepub liruim at a Hnii<|iiel. Chicago, \ug. —Prominent men from all parts c>f the country {fath ered aroiiml tlit tables in the ban quet liail of the Auditorium hotel last night to attend the feast given by the Hamilton ehil>, of this city, in their honor. The Hamilton club is a repub lican organization anil its banquet was, after tin- nieuu, a banquet with polities the ehiet' thing under discus sion. President Hangs, of the club, acted as toastmosler. and with him at the head table sat Col. I). 11. Henderson, speaker of the house of representa tives; Senator Davis, of Minnesota; Senator Dolliver. of Iowa: Charles G. Dawes, comptroller of the currency; Gen. Shaw, commander-in-chief of tin' (i. \. I!.; Walter WVrdcr, acting gov ernor of Illinois; Lieut, (ien. Miles, (ien. I):' niel Sickles, Judge Leo Has sienr and others. President Hangs opered the speech making with a short address, at the end of whieTi he introduced Speaker Henderson, who spoke as follows: "Just before taking the train night before last to come 1o Chicago to have an ell around good time with my comrades of the Grand \rmy. I received a telegram from The presi dent of thi -* club, asking me to take the place of the president. lam not here for that purpose. No one in this republic can take the place of Presi dent MeKinley. And wtien the bal lots are counted in November the people of the country will demon strate to the world that no man will be permitted to take his plaee. Tin? name of Hamilton suggests three thoughts that may be appropriate to 1900; first, a strong government; sec ond. a just government; third, a pro tective government. "In this great world of ours, full of powerful, massive, aggressive govern ments, tiiis nation as a government must be strong to take care of our people and their interests. Xo gov ernment can lie strong that is nor just. We cannot hold the love and support of our peopie unless we are just in the enactment, in the inter pretation and in the execution of law. "This government must protect cap ital and labor and give each a fair d ance. It must protect the rich and ihe poor, the hlnck and the white and the brown, also Mr. Bryan. I'nless we ha\e a government big enough to extend its protective power every where that old flag floats it will come short of its dutv. Aye, and. gentle men, it must be a government that will protect its citizens in the heart of Chicago or in the heart of China." President Hangs then brought for ward as the next speaker Senator Cushman K. Davis, who replied to the toast "Our Destiny." Senator Dolliver, of Town, was greeted with prolonged cheers as he responded to the toast "Prosperity and Its Causes " THE HORRORS OF WAR. Tln'j" are Hrou<;lit Home to Chinese A Territory Laid Wauli'. London, Aug. 30.—The Taku corre spondent of the Daily Telegraph, wir ing August 26, says that the country around Taku and Pekin is devastated, with the result that the Hoxers are most unpopular 'and are being at tacked by the peasantry. The Hox ers who were moving north from Shan Tung are now returning hastily to their homes. Delated dispatches and the stories of refugees arriving at Che Foo de scribe the terrible conditions :n Pe kin. One of the worst incidents is the shocking desecration of the for eign cemetery outside the west wall. The details are too revolting to be detailed. Hundreds of bodies of Chi nese are found in the streets of Pe kin, supposed to be those of traitors to the cause of the Hoxers. A correspondent at New Chwnng says that the Russians at Hni Cheng are awaiting reinforcements, whose advance is delayed bv the impassable conditions of the roads to Leao "i ang and Mukden. Meanwhile the native population of the district is being treated with the utmost severity. Fvewitnesses report an indiscrimi nate slaughter of non-combatants and the reduction of the country in the vicinity of Port Arthur to a state of utter desolation. The Smiths' Reunion. New York, Aug. 30.—That branch of the nnaierotts Smith family known as the Pea pack Smiths gathered ar Pea pack. X.yesterday to the num ber of about 2,500. They stood around the site of the cabin which their founder and common ancester erect ed 1!>0 years ago at that place. The original Pea pack Smith was from Holland and spelled his name Jan Schmidt, but when he married he changed it to the Knglish form of spelling. There were present repre sentatives from California. Colorado and Nevada and all the eastern states were represented, as were a number in the middle WDfit. Han a Presidential Hre. Topeka, Kan., Aug. 30.—1t is the talk in republican circles here that Senator Fairbanks, of Indiana, is a candidate for president to succeed MeKinley four years from now and that his western trip next month is to make acquaintances and to push his boom into view. While he speaks under the auspices of the national committee, his itinerary is entirely his own. Caulkers' Wajfn Reduced. Pittsburg, Aug. 30.—Xotiees have been posted at the docks of the Mo nomraliela River Consolidated Cml and Coke Co. that a reduction of 25 (■■•nls a day will take effect next Sat urday in the wages of all the caulk ers employed there. The men an nounce that the reduction will not be accepted and that a general strike will occur. To Repeal tl>e (aoebel Law. Frankfort, Ky„ Aug. 30.—1n both houses of the legislature yesterday bills were introduced to repeal and ' to amend the Uoebel election lav/. RICH MAN'S ADVICE. How the Late Collis P. Huntingtoa Acquired a Fortune. He Alvrnya Considered "To-Dny" the A JI-Imj»ortiiii t liHiie find Didn't Worry About the I'nst or Fret Over the Future. As told by himself. Mr. Huntington's story of how he became a millionaire is truly interesting, it shows the spirit of independence which characterized the man who at the early age of 1* started out to shift for himself. "Appreciate the value of to-day." he said. "That's my advice to young men. It has been my rule through life—l am nearing the century mark now—not t» look forward, for tlie future is a blank. To-day is the all-important issue. I have never gone against the tide, nor worried while my schemes were ma turing. A farmer sows a field of wheat. To worry over it would merely sap his energy. The wheat requires his at tention at t.he havest. "When I was a boy on my father'* farm in Connecticut 1 worked hard, utilizing every moment, for there was plenty to do. 15ut if I had any spare time I did chores for the neighbors. I never wanted for anything I needed; I always got it. But very many buy things they do not need. When 1 went toXew York in 1830 1 had quite a sum of money, the result of my savings, judi cious investments and little trading* about the neighborhood. The great se cret of success is in laying by a nest-egg and adding to your little store, never spending more than you make and be ing strictly economical. Again, a young man should command what he is worth and always endeavor to tet ter himself. I was my own master since 1 was 14 years old. I have had a hundred thousand people in my employ in different parts of the world at the same time. "In my mercantile life I have noticed the man who arrives at his post on time and not one minute later, and who COLLIS P. HUNTINGTON. (He Believed in Appreciating the Value of "To-Day.") leaves on the minute and not one second later. He does not do more than he has to do and does not do that well. Then there is She man \\ ho arrives aheadlof time and works late if need be. He takes an interest in his work and is anxious to be advanced. I have always lived within my means and always S'trived for advancement. Another principle I haVe constantly obeyed is 'business before pleasure.' Thechances are as good to-day as they ever were—• they are even better. But 1 do not think that the life of one who has accumulat ed a hundred* millions, more or less. i« in t he-least inspiring. It dazzles, it be wilders the struggling youth. It may inspire him for a time, but that inspira tion soon wears oft". "It is not possible for one to follow in the footsteps of auother. Each must work out its own destiny. 1 have never cared a cent what any human being thought or said about me or my action, so long as I was satisfied. It is my idea that a man's business should be his first thought. It has always been mine. In consequence, I suppose, there are many things about which I know less than the average man, but, on the other hand, 1 am certain that there is no body who knows more about my own business than I do myself. 1 never leave my game to play another fellow's. Finally, false pride is an enormous ob stacle. I know young men in New York who would not carry a trunk along Fifth avenue for all the frontage they could pass because they would be afraid that they might meet some girl they knew." The question of C'. P. Huntington's fortune is an icieirsting one. and one upon which no two persons agree. It has been estimated anywhere between $25,000,000 and $100,000,000. Authorities scout the former guess just as emphat ically as they dio the latter, and say be tween $50,000,000 and $75,000,000 is a conservative estimate. An Eipeimlve lint not. A hotel man in Portland, Me., made a bet of a hat with a friend and lost. The loser telephoned to the winner: "Get just as good a hat as you want; in fact, buy any kind of a hat that suits you and have them send the bill to me." In a day or two a bill for $33 from » well-known Congress street milliner for a woman's hat was received by the loser. The winner calmly informed him that he was. pretty well fixed for hats himself and so he thought he'd turn the tiling over to his wife. It was a hat and the hotel man paid. Snl>terranenn I'lnnt Life. Soil was brought up from a. depth of 320 feet from a coal mine in Belgium, and from it sprouted weeds of a species entirely unknown to botanists. Wonder* of Modern Gun*. The tube of a 12-anch gun has SO' spiral grooves inside, which cause the shot to revolve 75 times per second a» It rushes through the air.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers