THE PASSING OF THE HOME. THh ! \u;i - OK IUK AI'AIITMKN'T is oi it \'i t i ni:s. Twentieth Century Builders do not Pro vide for the Children. —Happiness as accessible in the "Flat" as in the cot tage, under proper conditions. We ; l>e patient with the taiilts of youth. A young jwople, like a y< ung person, lias "the defects of its qualities ; and though our nation is built of all na tion-. yet it- individual life i- young. One of the faults . I youth is a dogged conservatism the child, having a knowledge of things other than he has al ways seen tlieni, condemns unhesitating ly any divergence from his accustomed standard. He i- rigid in his young vir tue, cruel in his young severity; but, tuan.'s God, he will grow; and, as <>e grows, learn wisdom, oreadth of vision, a slower judgment, a more defined hope. We in America, springing to life as a nation in our pioneer period, with our first proud ideals all based on the facts of that period, and dominated JV a liter ature deeply colored by those same facts and ideals, are slow to recognize our own growth. When we say "'the American Home," we think instinctively of the home of a hundred years ago; and a hundred years in this ,-ige of cumulative progress means more than a thousand in the far past- Our national life is changing in every feature, changing more swiffly than any people's life ever changed licfore; and in most of is phenomena we mv proud of it. The distinctive spirit of American progress i- it-* sure and instant recogni tion of new values, new methods, new line- of advance, and its steady courage in tit kin-.' ii'..image of them. The superiority of our mechanical pro cesse- is ! ir-'ely due to the /act that we are not. afraid of"the scrap heap —we wear out i locomotive, discard it.and build a better) over and over, while the European i- nursing mid repairing A far-sighte 1 rational courage—a will inirni -- il a\- to throw isi.tc good for better, and better for best -this i- the American policy. And yet, in the very face of this rush iiii' current of progressivenexs. we find at times the strangest po Is and eddies, dull backwater- where the driftwood of past seasons floats and molders like wrecks in the S.irg i--o Sea. It i- from a stagnant stretch like this that, we hear the cry of complaint and warning V out the pissing of the Ameri can home. Everything else has passed, and without wailing; passed, as must all rising life, "fi in the less to the greater, > from the -imple to the comolex." Social evolution follows natural law as surely as phy-ical; why should we fear it? Or rather, why should we ac , cept so much of it gladly and then balk, (straining rebelliously at this gnat after 'swallowing caravans 112 camels? It is because we think, in our honest hearts, that our national integrity and health and virtue are bound up in"the Home," and that if it is taken from us we are lost. We are right here, in a way. Unless the eell-struetir-e of the human atom is healthy, the .hole great organism will break down. We are wrong in Hipp' sing that change is nece-sarily injury, in seeking to maintain the home in some past form and forbid it sharing in the benefits of progre—. Hut while we arc musing; the lire burns, the chanj.es goon: and those who observe them cry out a-1 he old Dan ish king cried out against the rising tide. In the country there has been less change than in the city, naturally; the Isolated farmhouse is -till recognizably like its predecessors of the earlier een [turies; yet there i- some difference even '.here. ■ in the cities, notably in our largest J<Hie-, the alteration is so great and so I swift as to force itself upon us with L some) . t' a shock, the more so as in a • growing city one may find every stage of jhomc-liuilding practically side by side. \ A ride on the Amsterdam Avenue Street-car in New York citv will show ft'"' shanty and hovel of the ancient poor. | and the crowded tenement of the modern 1 poor: the large, comfortable, detached | house of the ancient rich, with lawn and 1 garden and outbuildings, and the long front- of the side-street blocks where the "homes" stand like books on a shelf, squeezed out of all semblance of a house. This is due to the terrible constriction of financial pressure. "B & A" Elbow Valve. Pat. - - J 900 Operated by the foot—no stooping, every valve warranted. Does not stick. Write your jobber or us and mention this paper. R|Ptl Blake & Andros, 28 foitland St., Boston, Mass Makes Clothes Whiter-Work Easier-Kitchen Cleaner. SNOW BOY JGGG atyour Grocers Valuable Premiums given for boxfronlsjS KftSi Thi- pressure, relentlessly increasing, has forced upward from tnese level ranks ■ I crowded dwellings the vertical out burst of the apartment-homo —the "flat," aml il this point beo.ns most of the .out cry, • w ' Ion*; as our homes had twenty I'eet aqiti. re "! around in the back yard, and ten feet ul stone step- at the front door, we submitted to the lateral pressure vin i riiipl iv. \\«• took our air and light it the two ends of the house; we ignored the neighbor whose bed was within a toot of ours, because the party wall was solid and well deadened. We ea 1 led our vertical slice of a solid build ing n block long "a house,"and while la menting at times its lack of physical comfort, we did not feel that its life was attacked. It was still "the. home," Hut the apartment-houses increased so rapidlv that the levels of domestic life in New York became as varied as its rocky substrata; and then, under the same pressure, the kitchens were squeezed out of the Hats, and the apartment-hotel ap peared. It not only appeared, but increased. The real estate records show an aston ishing ratio of change—private houses I eing no longer built in numbers worth mentioning compared with apartment - nouses, and these sinking into insignifi cance compared with the apartment ho tel. Now, indeed, a cry of horror goes, up. We have all along had in our cur tained minds an ideal of the home of our grand mothers; the slow compression of that ideal as the city block congealed around it we had not noticed; but now that, we sec our homes lifted clean oil" the ground—yardless, cellarle.ss, sta« less, even ldteheiiless—we protest that this is not a home! Doctor I'irkhurst and other earnest men have raised their voices in passion ate protest, but neither those who build nor th'i-e who buy have listened to them. Think and feel as we may, if remains a fact that the dwellers in our great cities are being forced into seis of hori zontally arranged chamber-: and de prived of the cellar and the kitchen as tlu-y were long since the garden and the -table. i lie change i- here. Is it good or bad? .. fad or bad in part -can it be checked and altered? The tendency in terms of brick and mortar is clearly visible. It U from 1 relatively -ma!!, plain, isolated house, holding one family, toward a vast glit tering palace of a thousand occupants. The tendency industrially i- as clear it i.» from the weary housewife making -ojip and candles, ear,ling, spinning, weaving, dyeing, cutting, sewing. cook ang. nursing, sweeping, washing and all the rest, to the handsome, healthy, golf plaving woman who does none of these things (and, to her shame be if spoken, does little else), for her former trades are done each and all bv expert profes sionals. I lie tendency in the character of home and family life is not so patently visible, and may yet be traced, It is from a self-centered family life, mainly content with its own members and its immediate neighlsirs, to a family that is by no means content with its own members, that knows not neighlsirs though they may IK- as near and as nu merous as the cells of a honey comb, and that insi-ts on finding its interests ami pleasures in the great outside world. That this change, psychic and industri al. is going on with the change in archi tecture, cannot be denied. It may even 1 e wondered if it did not precede it spirit rightly coming before matter; at any rate, it, is here. Now let u-. examine the real nature of th's transformation, without prejudice or terror, and see if it is. after all, as bad as some would have us lielieve. II a city i- so thick that a separate home with four sides of windowed ven tilation is absolutely impossible—which like it or il? t, is the case at pi e-er.t— --then why is it better for the honeyeftm!) to lie flat than for it.to stand up? !■= this book-shelf of a front inherently a >' ler, more lovely or more healthful— even more convenient than the same to standing cn end, as it Were with one s -et of rooms arranged on a level instead o! five floors over one another? For health and comfort, so long as nil and light are assured, rooms oil one floot are better than on five -better mechan ics, better economy of space and time, 1 Sut as soon as this change was made as si HI AS the physical space of the home was thus simplified, then the ancient in dustries of the home became unpleasant !y prominent to its members. Of what do uwellera in flats most com plain? The smell of their neighbors kitchens, the noise of their neighbor children. So long as that smell and that noise were dis-cininated freely from the ex posed farmhouse, we none of us minded them. So long as. by common consent, tilt dwellers in the book -he!f tucked tlieii kitchens in behind and under, mingling tlu> o.lors of sul, and -otip in the huddh I l ack \ arils which every resident ig noted: -cut their children to the toj !!oir or the park-and politely over looked the ash-harre! and the garbage can immodestly obstruding them-elvef heside the elegant front steps, so Ion;, we bore with these things. Hut whet the strata rose under lateral pressure and carried the home upward, by the dozen, it" constituent chambers thrown together past ignoring, and with no hack sard lo dilute it> odors for a while, then we found thai we did iml, lik • onr own way of doing business. A little more squeezing the kitchen dwindles and cramps to a kitchenette — pop! it is gone! flic dining-room, last without its feed er, suffers a gradi il transfonnation to a sort, of second parlor, and often it, too, disappears. The children? The apartment house and the hotel evade that <|iiestion —avoid it -dodge it. They make no provision for children they don't want any. The children are but few ill these sky-pal aces, and thev look out of place. We have riot faced the problem of providing for them at all. We shirk it. And then what happens? What does the family do? The man goes right on with his busi ness as he always did. His hills are heavy, but there is Jess worry. He works ajid pays the freight. The woman, re lieved of almost all the work she used to do, and too ignorant, too timid, too self indulgent, to do other work, simply plays most of the time, or labors at amuse ment. salving her conscience with char ity. (A nice world we should have if men stopped work and took to charity!) The children, when there were any, are seen dully toddling beside unresponsive servants; strapped helpless in wagons; aimlessly playing in the only decent place they have, the public parks; or. in their only semblance of free life, taking the license and education of th ■ streets. The streets may he cleaner or dirtier, ipiieter or noisier, and the children more or less numerous, according to the wealth if the region, but, rich or poor, they have only the street the houses are not built for them. The private houses are not much bet ter in this respect than the apartment houses; but in the latter, the children, like the kitchens, are more prominent. The rate of living in these great build ings is very high. Yet we must remem ber that it is not so high as in the, pri vate houses of the same people. It is economic pressure that puts up these monster edifices. The family life -the, association of the members seems vi-it Iv lessened. Yet we must remember again that they are only living as they wanted to licfore nnd bid not the conveniences. The apart ment-hotel meets a demand. The posi tion of the children is the most promin ent evil: yet it is not -o much worse than it was before, as it is merely more conspicuous. The apartment-hotel only carries out in the arrogant and opulent fulfilment the tendencies already at work when the city began to force I lie homes together and crush them to a lean and breathless strip. Is this movement wholly bad? Can nothing be done to check it ? It is by no means wholly bad; it is mostly good. What is bad about it i- our misapprehen sion. and pig-headed insistence on what we falsely suppose to be the valuable things. How then can we modify this process, keeping the grandeur and beau ty, the smooth, delicate mechanical ad justment, the care and convenience, and yet keeping love and peace and happy childhood too? Our present objectors have no help to give—they merely howl. I hey stand screaming in the road and say: "Go hack! <;o hack! This is not the way. itop! (!o back!" Social pro cesses do not stop, much less go back, for anybody's protest-. They cannot be arrested or reversed, but thov can be steered. We can stud\ them, learn their lines of direction, and take advantage of them, to our great gain. Now let us see what is needed to make "the American city home." in its best and fullest sense, possible to us till, albeit two hundred feet from the gr< ; 1 ml. I here is no real reason that a man and wife should not lie as happy under elec tric lights as they were underneath the | naked stars, on Oriental rug* as on the ■ windy hills or damp leaves of the forest. ; there i- no real reason ..hy children should nt be as health; and happy in a i modern palac. a- i : an ancient hut. , M> real no. inherent reason. I The (filliculty in these things i-- secon i darv and removable. We have overlook |ed the children in building tliq ..part- I ment-home that" is all. We are meeting all a lult desire- in ! tnese huge palaces to-day. We make 112 r jthem billard-parlors, smoking-rooms. | dancing-halls, swin ining-tanks, rccen ! Hon parlor- Int we do not build for the j childr-n. I nisi- not th# l special fault of I the apartment-house. We did nt build ' private houses suited to them, either. W lint we want :s a conscientious rec ognition of child needs when we build homes; and this should be insisted on bv their mothers. Now beret- fore the moth ers were too overwhelmed with house «ervice to demand anything for then children or themselves. \s soon as a husband was rich enough to harness oth er women to his chariot-wheels the moth er emerged from her lowly labors, and j like any other released servant. liiMtri ! ntcd in idleness. Low-grade lalior doc - not teach noble ambition. But this very apartment-hou-e. with it- inevitable dismissal ot the kitchen, with it- facility tor all -killed specialist labor, hi- freed tin; woman from her an cient -> i vice, so 111 it -lie may i:o\v sec the -pleiidid jfus:abilities of motherhood. She does not do -o yet, it is true. The kitchen-niindediless of a thousand cen turies can not rise at once to the grade of twentieth-century life. But see what we inigln have, if we would in thin most crowded city of the world to-day; see how the. Ameriean home may pass from it- present transition stage to a noble new development. On the ground-space of a New York block, witli our present architecture and mechanical knowledge, wo can build homes of such exquisite refinement and simple beauty a < sh iuld be a constant lest and joy to their inmates. Once elim inating that source of so much dirt, Ihe kitchen, the system of exhaust sweeping now coming into use with modern plumbing, could keep our homes cleaner than they ever were before. Wise build ing laws should insure ventilation and sunlight for rich as well as poor. Long corridors, gliding elevators, soft music at one's meals- -these things do not destroy love and happiness; nor does a private cook insure them. Our mistake is in attaching the essential good of home life to non-essential mechanical condi tions. This unensv expansion from the home life into "society life" is in ils nature good bad as are the present results. It is part of the general kindling of the human soul to-day, the wakening of the social consciousness. Tt is right, quite right, that man, woman and child should all demand something more than "hotfie life." The domestic period, so to speak, is long outgrown. The wrong is that the social life tliev find outside is so piti fully unsatisfying. The soul to-day needs far wider acquaintance, more gen eral interest, more collective action, than the soul of remote centuries. We are different -we are more complex—and we must continue to become so. But that complexity should be as dean and natural and wholesome as our early simplicity. An organ is more complex than a shepherd's pipe, but no less musical. If these apartinent itouses and hotels were filled with peo ple who appreciated the opportunities of the time they live in. Ihe gathered homes therein would know a larger, higher hap piness than any cozy cottages under a woodbine. 'I he wives and mothers of these families would remember that there are children—must be children — ami that no hired servant can success fully conceal them. Children are here and must le provided for. Tlie apart ment-house has not done so vet—but it can and better than the private house. These great structures could, if they chose, turn their palm-fringed roofs into happy child-gardens, furnish great play rooms, gymnasia and nurseries; and they will choose when women patrons oring their material sentiments tip to date. A busy woman, happy and proud in her work, could return to her exquisite nest in one of these glorious palaces, with her husband and children returning from their work and play, to as contented a home life as the world has ever known— and a nobler one as well. Ililt. you say: "It is not the same thing. The home is gone. The children are at the nursery or kindergarten, the father away, of course—he always was; but the mother—a woman should give her whole life to the home." No, she should not. No human being should. She should serve -ociety as d es her hu man mate, and they, together, should go liouie to rest. It i- this ohnnge in the heart of the world which is changing the house of the world; and it- ultimate meaning is good. I.et us then siudy, understand, and help to ln-ten this passing onward to better things of our beloved American Home. Li t u- not be afraid. but lead the world in la livinj -Charlotte I'erkins <Hi i .111 in Met hire's nifi'Mzine for Decern ber. EVERY ETH WATH THTOLEN. And Tho Thith Paper Wath in Great Dithtreth for Thome Time. 'ls ago when Ward Morton was gay i!id fri-k.v and struggling to make the ITunklinville Journal a sin e.-s. he had in unplea-aiit but unique experience. !lis oflice was I rok ;n pen one night and all i.f hi- cash WHS stolen. This was not, however, the greatest part of the hard • liip. for the miscreant, hoping to fore stall Ihe next day's issue of his paper, .to!:> every letter "s" in the oflice. Young Morton, how ever, was equal to the emer gency. and came out the next morning with tho follow ing story in the Journal: "We are thorry to tluiy that our com pelling room wai.li entered latht night by 1 home unknown theoun lrel, whe thtole every eth in the ct hi iblit Inner,t and thucceeded iu making hith ethcapc undetected. It bath been imp it bible of i.airthe tr: procure a new thupply of ctlieth in time fir thith ithtt.hue, and we are tliutli com pelled tog to preth iu a thitnation mot lit einlai rathing and difhtrething: I ut we thee iii i other court he to purthuc than to make the letht thtagger we can to get along wi.hotit the. niitliiiig letter :u we therefore print The lournal on time regardletli of the loth thnthlaincd. "Then, five of the mitherable mith • leant itll unknown to nth, but doubt leth wain revenge for (home thuppothed inthult. "It th ill never be tliaid that the petty thpite of the tiima 11 -t.hoitle<l villain hath dithabled The Journal. If thit.il moet.th Ihe eye of the detcthtable rathcal, we beg fi> athure. him that he underothti inateth the rcthoureeth of a firtht-clath newtlipnper when he thinkth he can cripple it. liopclethly by breaking into t lie alphabet. "We take occathion to thay to him, furthermore, that before next Thlirt 11- day we will have three timelli ath many cineth atli he thtole." W. N. V. N. U.—2030 OPEN SEASON FOR ELK. HUNTERS MUST WEAK 11ED. iirown May i-ead to Being Mistaken lor the Prey—Harder to Get a Shot wita a Kodak Than One with a Rifle—The Extraordinary Luck of a Man froin Chicago—Deer Prey of Wolves. The open season for big game in tap. north woods of Minnesota, is at hand. In all the railway stations one finds printed signs on tabling directions for hunting, which must not he disregarded on pain of the law. Elk does not figure in the in structions for hunting in Minnesota, but the moose does. There is generally a snowstorm in November, but that has not dampened the ardor of the hunters, who, with red caps and jackets, are com ing from Duluth, St. Paul, an I Chicago, lied is the color for hunting here, as it is the color for golf in less strenuous cli mates In fact, so many have been the ac cidents through the tendency of the eye to be deceived tli.it it looks as if every man who ventures among the pine and the spruce in November w ill soon he re quired to wear the color in which devils in the opera always disport A brown spot stirs fifty yards from you; you fire; you may have hit a deer or a man; and, as the tendency of the human eye is to see what the human mind has been thinking about, you may have taken a man for a deer. You may kill two deer during the open season in Minnesota. You may not take them out of the State—and the railway men re warned to see that you do not. Still, venison has been known to make its way mysteriously even as tar as Buf falo, and in the close season you know what Rocky Mountain goat on certain hotel menus means. Besides, cannot the forbidden venison, unconcealed in this way. have been kept in cold storage? It was on this hypothesis that the lunch o r moose meat given by the lion. Halford Stcenerson, of Minnesota, to some of his friends in the Senate restaurant last year was explained, but some of the opponents of this gentleman declined to believe that he had not shot the magnificent animal out of season. Frozen in Attitude of Life. Deer swarms in the north woods this year. The sight of six or seven dead ani mals on the railway station platform at Hemidji, the most thriving of all the northwestern tow ns, is not unusual. Some of them are frozen so stiff that the jo cose hunter finds no difficulty in mak ing them stand erect for the moment, in the attitude of life. The air in the North west is remarkably pure in summer be cause it is preserved in very cold storage for nine months in the year, but when i' is in cold storage its better qualities are unmistakable. The drawback of this beautiful region of a thousand lakes, is the length of the winters. It is true that Novemlier icicles may be dissipated ov a flash of Indian summer, but while they are icicles they are very real icicles. It is harder to get a kodak shot at an elk than to sight him with a rille. A long drive from the (ireat Divide, where the two great streams to the north and south—the furthermost north and south —separate, may bring many adventures, or there may be none. To the red lake reservation, it may mean long hours through the monotonous pine and spruce and balsomj in the early fall past great railway caboose, which, for them, is on one of the roads to hell. At other times yi u may have many adventures. A ila-ul of white may strike your eyes and off goes, with their llags showing, a herd of deer. What a Chicago Man Saw. Or it may happen, us it happened to the man from Chicago who had never -een a moose. And he longe I to see a clumps of the high-brush cranberry and far stretching clumps of purple aster, and the golden rod; in the late fall through the dark green of the soft wood, with a sprinkle of snow here i nd there; but you may see no animal except a partridge or two. To !e sure, at N'ebish y u will be sure to observe drunken "braves" and squaws in a state of in decent frenzy, trying to bear I the little meose in the native wild; but there were no "cruisers" —lumber Jacks who know the woods -within reach, to guide him; and Ihe Indians were away catting the wild rice. He had driven with a friend lor days over cord:iro\ roads, and he ha I -ecu not even a deer. And yet, at a farm which suddenly shone out of the forest, lie ha I been shown the tender leaves of a miniature apple orchard nipped by buck ; and line, and traces of their sharp hoofs 011 the soft earth everywhere; but. goiii'_' out of his tent one Sunday morning f> r : his very cold plunge in the lake, lie stood for a moment, weary at last of the 111011- olonv of nature. There was a -lij>hi -omul behind him; he turned, and one of the mast magnificent of brutes the bull elk moved slowly toward the water. The man stood still. amazed, and. lie confesses some what frightened; the elk showed 110 emotion, tramped among the wild rice for a moment or two, and then .low ly went back toward the woods. There will Ire main deer killed during the month of December; but the daugh ter is never so great out in the north wornls as it is in the woods of .Maine. In the liynher camps which are beginning to take on signs of life -are many Maine men, and though deer is not le-s plenti ful in Minne- ta, the .Maine woods are more accessible to the hunters, and are training grounds for the Minnesota lum ber Jacks. Deer Prey of Wolves. In a few weeks the real slaughter id the deer will begin. Their worst ene mies an' the timber wolves, beautiful, swift, gray and white animals, who 1 force the deer on the ice or snow to hi own destruction. On an island near tin Leech Lake reservation, not far from where the chief Bugah-na-geisg defied the United States government., are nine i) I\< -. They have been counted. During tlii- coming winter the/ may ki'l iOO dt They aro waiting for their ney. \ buck or doe is helpless on the cc or snow, but the wolf glides easily, gracefully, unerringly after the deer, who 11 the .-liminer can make his v«'; y, almost inheard, among the tangled underbrush. Jii the ice—when the ice is covered with -now, the sharp huofs of the deer lead to his destruction. Jb' Milks; he strug gles j he is trapped, while the pack of silver gray wolves close around him lei surely and with sinister confidence in the issue. Go any summer into the Min nesota forest, and you will find innumer able skeletons of the deer thus destroy ed. Wolves are to the deer what prairie fires are to the woods. Winter's Fight with Death. The woods, as the winter comes, seem lo grow greener and darker. A loneiy log cabin in a clearing, with its flaxen haired mistress and group of flaxen-hair ed children at the door, appears desolute enough; but when one thinks of this Scandinavian family surrounJel by walla of snow for almost nine months in the year, one wonders that even these hardy Swedes and Norwegians do not seek the South. Here and there is a pathetic lit tle schoolhouse in a clearing. Back ill the forest the snow does not come, and the winds are still; and as the autumn progresses the horrible mosquitoes and deer flies go away; but when the snow falls then is the struggle of life with the cold clutch of death. The timber Indians desert their tents; now the dried fish is carefully packed away and the venison are cured. Noth ing remains but the poles of tiie tepees; the other Indians are unfailing in their knowledge of the haunts of hi 4 game, as well as the whereabouts of the marten and the otter. The hunter from the East putting himself in the hands of a cruiser or a well-tried Indian hunter, will Ito sure of getting irood chances at both deer and elk. The hunt for lurred ani mals does not begin until late in Decem ber or in -January, the fur before that; time being in immature condition. Ot ter and marten skins may be bought at what seems to be a low price from the Indians; but when the skius are made up in the fashionable manner their total co-t does not fall below the market price. The hunter from the East will lind that, if he has not practiced at deer shooting in the woods, the buck's flag— the under and white part of tne tail will <;o up instead of down at his shot many times until he gets the art of shooting under new conditions. The open season for deer will soon be over; but there are still great opportunities for the lover of open-air sp lis in North ern Minnesota. The hunter, however, must be prepared for hardships of all kinds, as he must come face to face with elemental nature. —Maurice Francis Egan. "Why did you strike him for a loan when you had money in your pocket?" "1 wanted to head him oil' before he struck me." A Cough that Hangs-On is one to be afraid of —there is danger irv it. Yovi can cure it quickly with Shi loh's Consumption Cure, the Lung Tonic. Your money back if ft doesn't curs you. 407 25 cts., 50 cts, and $5,90 . Pit tsburgYislbel ! Typewriter (aril;; I The Only Perfect Machine Made The writing is In plain view of the op erator all thu time -simpfcsi and strong est construction. rapid action, < ,«sy touch —adapted to all kinds of work—best for tabulating and invoice work uiilvernal keyboard removable type action in stanyly cleaned. i'roiile the life of any other machine lor good clean work. Sentt lor catalogue. BRANCH OFFICE Pittsburg Writing Machine Company, 208 Wood St., Pittsburg, Pa. TYPE! TYPE! TYPE! The Empire T\]«• Foundrv at Dele ran, X. V. is prepared to sell new type: i-point Uomnn and 11-point Roman, at wenty-live cents per pound carefully joxed, 112. o. b. Delevan, X. V. A liberal li-icoimt for cash and a lower pi ice in lots tf 500 pounds up. It is unit or point set Helf spacing so called) and is cast from standard for: inla metal. Immed iate shipments. Sorts alw \ y- in stoijk. V first-class type at about one-half old style foundry prices. Empire Type Foundry, aP tf Delevan, N. Y.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers