LOLLABY.
Hoard of dew
The honey bee gives over;
Near her ewe
Che lamb neds in the clover,
Couch the kine
Ou mother earth's broad breast;
Close to mine
lest, weary wee one, rest,
Hallowed hour
Of nature's holiest hush,
Bleeps the flower
On every stem and bush;
Iu dusk’s rose
A horned moon's aswing;
Sweet eyes close,
Star eyes are glistening,
With droop'd lids
Come downy owlets forth—
Katydids,
The cricket and the moth
Dream-gods bless
Thee, dreams of beauty bring,
Nod-land's guest
To nod-land hurrying.
Trails her lamp
The glow-worm through the dark;
That frail tramp
The firefly, flanuts her spark—
Everywhere
Wee Leads to hearts are pressed
Wing takes care,
Dest, weary wee one, rest,
III
MASOUERADING,
Mrs. Symes Symington was engaged
in smoothing down the nap of her jetty
velvet polounise with her pretty, white,
plump hand, on the fore finger of
which sparkeled a cluster diamond ring,
on the third fiager clung a plain, heavy
wedding nog.
She was a plump, rosy little lady,
not as tall by a bead as the handsome
young fellow who called her “mother,”
and in whom her whole heart's affec-
tious were centred, and to whom she
was at this present administering as
severe a reproof as she ever had found
occasion to do,
Naughty, headstrong Cleve listened
very respectfully, as he leaned his head
on his hand and his elbow on the
mautel-piece, with an air that demon-
strated ihe perfect uselessness of the
arguments his lady mother advanced,
Then when she paused in triumphant
breathlessnes—breathless because of
her long sentences, and trinmpbant be-
cause she certainly: sccepted CUleve's
silence as the consent she aspired to
securing.
After this Cleve smiled—so sweetly,
coclly, right in her tace.
«But I shall marry little Birdie Lorne,
mamma —that is, if she will have me,
Now, don’t frown so, you look so much
prettier when you smile and blush,
little mother. Teil me to propose to
my pretty little suuny-haired girl and
bring her here for the maternal bless-
ing.”
He leaned his handsome head toward
Mrs, Symington and looked at her in
such a proudly coaxing way that in her
fond heart she wondered how any
woman could resist him, Then she
shook her head until the diamonds in
per ears sent their brilliant corusca-
tions both far and near,
“How ean 1, Cleve, when I am morally
sure Miss Lorne wants your mony only?
A hundred thousand isn’t to be secured
every day; and to marry for money is
too perfectly miserable. 1 married for
monoy, Cleve, and you know the life 1
led until your father died. Youaremy
only cemfort. Don't pain me by bring-
ing home a wife who will only endure
us for the sake of what we cau give
her,”
Evidently she had forgotten her
mental decision that no girl with =
human heart could resist hier boy's hand-
some face, Certainly if was very un-
like the proud, self-assured Mrs. Symes
Symington to underrate her own im-
portance so tremendously, as she had
just done.
But then even the rnchest, proudest
and hasughtiest people have their other
side thst only a few friends know; and
this was Mrs, Symington’s other
side.
but there was no sign of change of
views in the gay, deboniar face, with
the contradicting eyes so grave and
steanly decided.
“You mistake Birdie altogether,
mother dear. How can it be possible
she wants me for my money when lots
of other fellows are after hers? She 1s
an heiress in her own right—forty or
firty thousand.”
“*Oh! is that the case? Well —"
Her altered tone, her hesitating words
so delightiully emphasized wore enough
for Cleve. © oaught her up in his
Arms, of her elegant toilet,
and kissed Ler
soariet as a girl's,
“Cleve! are you not ashamed of your-
self? Put me down this minute, or—
.or—or—you shant marry Bird —"
He dropped her instantly.
*You're down, mother; and in just
‘one hour prepare to see my little darl-
ing-~all blushes, dimples, smiles and
sweetness,
He went out hurriedly, caught up
his hat from the rack and hailed a pass-
ing cab that would speed him on his
mission,
Mrs, 8 watched him be-
tween the plum damask our-
her eyes kindling with pleasura-
y Jardamable pride.
“I'he dear boy! he wants me to think
I settled the matter Le arranged long
ago. Of courss he would bave married
her, auyway, but just to think how
splendidly he has behaved to me.”
And something like the diamonds in
fier ears glittered in ber fond mother
eyes ns she turned away,
A delightful litte room,
ung with the exact shade of dainty
silk that was most becoming to
Lorne’s fair complexion, A pink
carpet that covered the floor in an
broken expanse of velvet, Chairs,
mans and cushions tered in
and ebony, With little lace tidies, and
Wephiys Was scutioted gracefully
; with elegantly-designed
affghans on the ottomans
curtains and pink
white walls
gs, with statu.
every available
al -ordered
the baok draw.
.,
ingtoom by one door and into the
beautiful conservatory by another. A
place where tears and trouble ought
never to have come, and the sight of
both of which uncaney visitants made
Cleve Symington pause a second on the
threshold as he caught a glimpre of a
golden head buried in two tiny fair
hands and heard the unmistakable sobs
that shook the little white-robed figure
crouching in a heap beside a low has-
sock, He only hesitated a second, then
with a look of tenierest love, pity, and
symynhy crossed the room to her side,
“Birdie, not ory so piteously,
Can I sympathize, or do I intrude?”
She sprang up in a sweet, shy sur-
prise, her face all tear-flushed, her eyes
as bright as dewdrops, She wus one of
those Heaven-favored mortals that
weeping beautifies. She only looked
fresher, fairer, and so pitiful, and Cleve’s
arms fairly sched to take her to his
heart and kiss her tears away. And he
would, he vowed rapturously, in an-
other five minutes,
She took her handkerchief from ber
pocket—a little lace affair, white and
fragrant, and essayed to smile as she
wiped the tears from her lashes.
“I am afraid I appar very childish,
Mr. Symiuvgton—but when I think—
when it is all gone—"
Her exquisite lips quivered again,
but she checked the rebellious tears
bravely,
“J am as poor as a church-mouse—
that is all. A letter from my guardian
says everything was invested in a min-
ing company, and the shares are not
worth the paper they were printed on.”
Cleve fairly worshiped her then, as
she honestly explained her position,
with the quiet, lady-like way so natural
to her,
“It is a missfortune, I admit; and yet
Birdie, there will inevitably came ome
good of it—you will learn who are
your real friends.”
Somehow he sail it 80 earnesily that
Birdie glanced curiously at him, then
drooped her eyes under the blue-veined
long iashed-hids,
Cleve was c'ose by her side the next
instant, with ner hands imprisoned in
in his, and his impassioned eyes fairly
scorching her face.
“You surely understand me, darling?
You wili let me prove my friendship,
my love, my adoration? Little girl,
say you will be my own, Tell me you
Jove me, and promise me the great
privilage of caring for you forever, my
little wife,”
It was so sweet, this manly, honest,
eager avowal, and coming, as it did, on
the very heels of her misfortune, and
from the lips of the only loyer she ever
iad prayed to hear the words from,
Aud yet—oh, woman's foolish pride!
—all her perverse little heart rose in
rebellion at accepting everyth ng and
giving nothing,
It never should be said of Birdie
Lome that she took the first offer she
received after her misfortune simply
because there was money in it
So-—while Cleve warted, smiling
patiently at her bowed head, never
doubling that his whole earthly happi.
ness was just at hand, dreaming such
rapid, blissful dreams of the future,
Birdie deliberately made up her stub.
born will, through horrid pangs of pain,
Then she lifted her head in a quick,
haughty way that it had often delight-
ed in before,
“You are so kind, Mr, Symington,
and I appreciate every word you say,
and will remember you gratefully to
my dymg day. Bat I will marry no
man to whom I would have to feel under
such obligations as I would feel to
you.”
Bhe spoke gentiy, but with a proud
ring to her voice, Cleve reeled under,
the sharp, sudden blow, He clinched
ber hands so tightly that her rings out
in the tender flesh, but she only com-
pressed her lips and made no sign of
how he hurt her.
‘But, Birdie,"—and there was such
agony in his voice that her own heart
quailed a second—‘'Birdie, don't speak
of obligations to a man who loves as 1
do; speak as if you knew you would
a queen's throne, as yon would,
irdie, Birdie, don't be so cruel to
me,"
Her lips quiversd, and her eyes sud-
denly overflowed,
“You mean what you say, my dear
friend, I know. Or, rather, you think
you mean it, which 1s the same to me,
sinoe I cannot accept it. Dat you are
only pitifnl, kind, and sympathetic,
and the sight of my tears and grief has
Souched your great heart, That is
She drew her hands away from his,
ty.
“1 is not all, I love you"
Then something in her imperious
face made him suddenly desist, and by
the way she locked and acted Cleve
8 on knew she was desperatery in
earnest, she would not marry him be-
cause she was so prond, And he went
sadly away, Jooling numb sod stupeflied
as he home in a strange, dazed
way that his fond mother saw from ber
peeping place between the curtains;
and her own face lost all ils matronly
bloom as Uleve cam in, whiter than
death itself, and threw Limsell on the
sofa. Thon, when he had told her, be-
PE io i fe
lie ’ rosy
softly back and into the
radiated a happy, hopeful t.
“Try to bear it, my doar
said gently, ‘You have what a
noble woman she is, il nothing more,”
wl she went out, smiling to her
,” she
* * * " * ¥
A plain, large room, on the second
story that bore evi of very recent
furnishing in the new, cheap carpet on
the floor, in chairs and
Lorne is the woman I take her to be
she will prove it before an hour passes
over our heads. Since her descent
into povery—genteel, lady like poverty
—1 learn she passes this house every
day at twelve o'clock, and takes her
dinner at the retaurant several doors
below; so #f I intend to meet her I had
better be going.”
She locked the door, put the key in
her pocket, and went down the stairs
into the siroet—exactly in time, for a
slight, graceful figure, clad in gray
twill, passed quietly by and nto the
restaurant, Sie knew it was Birdie
Lorne as well as Cleve would have
known it although she had never seen
her betore, She walked camly into the
restaurant and took a seat at the same
table with the pretty, hign-bred girl,
‘The place was nearly full, and Mrs,
Symington was glad it was,
All at once as if suddenly imprseed
with the idea, Mis. Symingson looked
curiously at Birdies face,
“I beg pardon, but are you not Miss
Lome? I am quite sure you must be
the young lady my son speaks about so
often.”
There was something so kindly genial
in the air that Birdie did not resent it,
“Your son? I certainly am Miss
Lorne; but you certainly have the ad.
vantage of me.”
“I am Cleve Bymiogton’s mother,
dear, There, forgive me, but you see
I know all adout tt. I am thankful to
have met you quite providentially.”
Jirdie blushed now-—as much io sur-
prise as anything else; aud involuntari-
ally she glanced a! the plain, unfashion-
able atire,
“You understand? We have been as
unfortunate as yourself, Miss Loroe,
Everything 1s gone and Cleve goes out
—actually goes out every day.” *
“Poor fellow. Iis—is he well?"
“Oh, yes, perfecily well, and as
brave as a lion; ooly—forgive me, dear
—only hopelessly cast down, on your
account. I wm his mother, and to you,
the only girl he ever loved, I say he
loves you with an affection that will
never abate,”
“and I love him, dear Mrs. Bymiug-
ton —I did then, ouly somehow I could
not say so,”
Aud Birdie poured out her whole
heart, completely conquered, and wrole
a letter to Cleve Symington, Then she
kissed the mother,
“] am so thankful we met strangely,
and I am glad you live in this poor,
plata little place—I love you better for
it, know, And when my bills are all
paid for the music I teach at the end
of a quarter, why—why i Cleve will
want me so soon, we'll get pleasanter
rooms and we’ll be eo happy.”
. * -
“My darling you don’t regret marry-
iog a poor man, and having to live in a
suite of rooms? Look up, Birdie, and
tell me, little wife,”
She looked merrily up into his eyes,
the wife of six hours, as the two sat ia
the sunny little room after they had
been married, and where Birdie had
lived since the shares failed her,
“Sorry? Oh, Cieve, when I think
how thankiul I am, and how nobly you
have endured your sudden loss of for-
tune, and how happy we will be—why,
where has mother gone?”
Cleve laughed as he drew her head
to his shoulder and smoothed her hair,
“] am inclined to be jealous of
mother, who I think has gone to the—
gone back home, to prepare a homely
iitle dinner tor us,”
“Let us go now, dear. Don't scold
because I ordered a carriage, will you?
Mrs. Estler paid me in full this mom.
ng.”
Cleve bit his lip to hide alsugh, thea
gravely escorted his bride down to the
single-horsed vehicle in waiting, The
man knew his route and dashed off
rapidly, only stopping when he reached
the kerb in front of a large house
Cloaye lecked at Birdie in astonishment,
She langhed nervously, then began to
ory.
“You're not angry, dear? I didn't
know until a month ago that it was all
right. I only lost a thousand after all,
Cleve, for your sake, agd mother’s Iam
so happy.”
He kissed her almost solomuly as they
sat in the little carriage,
“My own true, unselfish little darl-
ing!”
‘They entered, found a delicious littie
dinner in readiness, snd no one to mar
the sweetness of the surrise,
Late in the evening, towards ten
o'clock, Birdie rung for her
“Mother will be waiting for us
3" Cleve aud,
‘shall I confess? Shall
WH
The Sinful Sunday Move,
The old Dutch church at Kinderhook,
N. Y., where Maritain Van Buren altend-
ed services when a boy, was once a
soens of a firce conflict. The walls,
ceilings, and floor of the edifice were
bare. Foot-stoves kept the congrega-
tion in winter from freezing, but not
from shivering, At last thoso who saw
no connection between true religion
and a cold church proposed to buy a
a stove and warm the meeting-house,
Immediately the parish was divided
into two hostile factions—the stove
party and the anti-stove party, A writer
tells the result;
The ladies, vain of the foot-stoves, or
warming-pans, which their negro serv-
ants were socustomed to carry into
their pews every Bunday morning,
raised their voices with the anti-stove
cabal,
But the stove partly carried the day,
and the stove was purchased, borne
triumphantly to the church by the
victorious burglers, and set up on a
platform in the centre of the aisle,
In the midst of the service on the
following Sunday morning a great com-
motion was caused by the fainting of
two spinsters, overcome by the heat
and closeness of the air, The ladies
were at once carried out, lying very
limp in the arms of two deacons, and
smelling salts were applied.
“Shut oft the heat or we'd faint,” said
a timid voice,
¢ Oh, dear, I'm suffocating!” echoed
Lucy Holland,
“Oh, oh, we'll roast!”
antha Pest,
A gallant young beau sprany up with
firm step on the platform. and screen-
ing his face from the heat with his
hand, made a movement to close the
draught. But was it a mistake or a
Lorrid joke?
There was no fire in the stove!
sighed Bam-
nm AAI
ie Bulls Castle,
High up among the hemlock-co ered
mountains of the most desolate part
of Pennsylvania, far from eciviliza.
tion, are the rains of three small vil.
lages. Thirty years ago these were
thriving settlements, founded and
governed by the famous violinist, Ole
Bull. When Ole Ball conceived the
idea of starting a Norwegian colony in
these mountain fastuesses he purchased
a tract of land fort miles square aud
brou ht over 500 or 600 of his conntry-
men to make a settlement in this wild
region which is not unlike Norway,
with its rocky steeps, fertile valleys
and overgreen foliage, The houses
built by the settlers have many of them
tumbled down, the farms have become
overgrown with scrub oaks and bushes,
and the inhabitants have sougnt homes
elsewhere, many of them returning to
the fatherland, which they had left only
to find cruel disappointment and
blighted hopes in the new world, of
which toey had heard and read so much.
The houses were built in an old foreign
sort of style, with windows and porches
of the most unsccountable shapes in!
the most unexpected places. Mang. of |
tiwera are a sort of a cross between a |
Swiss chalet and an Indian bungalow, |
aud a visitor can easily make himself |
believe he is anywhere except iu |
America, The steep roofs and narrow, |
high porches are like those of the |
colonists left behind in Norway, and |
would lcok stranger still were there |
any dwellings of the American style of |
architecture with which to compare |
them, - Leaviag Coundersport in an |
old-fashioned buckboard wagon, New |
Bergen is the first settlement reached. |
A short distance from New Bergen is
Oleons, which was to have been the
capital of the territory that Ole Bull
proposed to govern, and near which his
residence, known as the castle, was
built, Tho village was placed on a
small plateau, But the tewn was never
built, and even the thrifty little village
eouid not hold its own after its founder
and patron neglected it, Gradually it
was deserted, the tenants moving awa
one after another until now there
littte left except three or four houses,
the hotel and one store; The hotel is
kept by a pleasant, intelligent and
thrifty-looking Norwegian, who says it
was built by Ole Ball, who at one time
had a music hall attached to it, where
he treated the seitlers to such music
as ho never gave eisewhere. The hall
has been torn down for firewood, and
the admirers of the great musician,
5
ih
:
fst
Hi
aoa
ith
|
BEgis
:
8
search for them, and when months of
patient toil failed to realize their hopes,
and a dispute about the title of the iand
arose, they all were ready to leave.
When Ole Bail lett Lis castle on the
Norjenskjold mouutain, as the hill was
eatled, he again went on the stage, but
had his projoct been successful Ole Bull
would never again have set foot upon
the stage. Men who live at New Nor-
way tell strange stories about the grert
musician's habits. It is said that when
he was perplexed or iu trouble he would
take his violin and extemporise wild,
weired music that would sometimes
make his listeners shiver. There is
another story that before he left tbe
castle he buried in the neighborhood a
favorite violin,
Snake-Milk and Gravy.
A cow-boy, fresh trom his herd, went
into a Cheyenne chop house recently.
The tables were all filled with the ex.
ception of one, at which the terror ol
the plains seated himself. As he pulled
oft his hat and untied the red bandanns
handkerchief from his throat he looked
disdainfully around.
The mumble waiter brushed an 1mag-
inary bread crumb from the cloth,
whisked a bill of fare trom the castor
and placed it before the festive and un-
tamed youth.
‘“Take it away!” he snarled. *‘l can’t
edt that, I want rattlesnakes on toast!”
“Rattlesnakes on toast!” yelled the
waiter.
“Hattiesnakes on toast!” responded the
Cook.
There was a slight flutter among the
gueats al the strange order and the cow-
boy was scanned by many curious eves.
He looked a little disconcerted at having
his order so promptly taken and glanced
turtively toward the front of the house.
He saw the cooks and waiters engaged in
filling orders and looking as solemn as
graveyards after midnight,
He assumed a nonchalant air and picked
bis tecth with his fork.
A cook deftly removed the skin from a
pickerel, and, cutting a strip the proper
shape, placed it on a spider.
The waiter who had taken the order
came tripping back to the bold buccaneer
“Will you have your snake well doge or
rare”
“Rere, with oodles of milk sod gravy
on it.”
“Gimme that seake rare —ailk gravy
on the mde,” was hallooed to the cook.
The Janst wrestler began 10 grow nerv-
ous. The devil-may-care expression had
left his eyes, and a solt, subdued, melan-
choly shade had taken its piace. He fid-
geted in his chair and seemed 10 be nerv-
10g himself for sn ordeal.
“ere you are, sir,” said the culinary
Ganymede, placing a dish in which was
something nicely colied, whach looked like
a fried specimen of the genus crotalus.
Have a little Worcester sauce! Gives a
very fine flavor. Some folks like mush-
rooms with their snakes. Others prefer
Chili colorow. A litle salad dressing
don't go bad. There's vinegar and olive
oul in the castor. Will you have tea or
coffee! Very floe snake. Caught yester-
day. Fat snd tender.”
W hen the waiter was delivering himself
of this eulogy on the meal, the steer-
puncher shoved his char back. His eyes
bulged out and he became pale around the
lis.
“I don't think I'll eat anything. I ain't
hungry,’ be saxd as he rose unsteadily to
hus feet and reached for his hat.
“Maybe you'd prefer br'iled moccasin,”
inmnustingly suggested the waiter.
“No,” he replied, as the ashen pallor
deepened oa his face. “l mint a bit
hungry.” He cast anolber glance si the
dish be had ordered and made a bresk for
the door. He “forgot to pay at the
counter.”
Checkers and Fomology.
Piece after piece of his fell to the
quiet skill of his opponent, and Rev,
Mr. MeGruder began to grow mad,
“Bah!” he said to his wife, ‘that’s
baby play. You snap up the pieces
before I get a chance to think. Cow-
atdly, too! You ought, if you had any
chivalry, to point out my danger, but
you must plump your measly checkers
right down and grab mine off the board
like a school girl!” Ske soligi
“Perhaps © ors in like on,”
said his wife, meditatively. “You acoept
its m as a little child.”
“Hush, my dear, that is absolutely
profane, 1 wouldn't lose my temper
even it the game was going against
me,”
“Don's get excited, dear.”
“Excited! It's enough to make a
wooden rocking horse excited to see the
WAY skip along with ocon-
founded pieces. You
to think,
your
don’t give me time
“I don't wish to hurry
jute lat move hue, Don't
8 capture both kings?
“I do wish hoy ARE
a, I x Me
’ » “1 am
cOpetant 10 ARO SAIS OF TF Oo FIAT,
jie
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Junn, the Hoy Cuptive.
With Mr. Allen, who recently returncd
from Mexico to Denver, Colorado, was a
youth of 18 years named Juso. “Juan,”
said Mr, Alden, who has a large ranch
at Alma, ‘“is a real live character of an
Indian romance. Bix years ago the Apa-
ches raided my herds and carned a great
pumber off into the mountains. As
many others had suffered I easily gath-
ered a troop of horse sod followed the
trail along the Gils. One evemng, sev
eral days after we had crossed the border,
our scouts rode back snd notified us that
we were almost upon the enemy, 80 pro-
ceeding more csutionsly we kept on steal-
ing our way through the dense chappa-
ral, when we suddenly came ¥pon &
scene calculated to freeze the very blood
in Our veins.
“There in an open space was a small
Mexican settlement, consisting of one
large square budding of adobe with one
large door or gate opening outward, but
devod of any other mode of egress or of
obtsimng light. The four sides of this
strugture faced a large court yard on the
inmde, into which opened the doors and
windows of perhaps a score of separsie
dwellings forming a part of the whole edi-
fice. The roof was of thatch, and when
we came into full view this was burning.
We charged and killed many of the devils,
but others escaped. Dividing our parly
into two sections, one of whom staid back
for a half hour or 80 to extinguish the fire
and make an examinaiion, the rest pushed
on after the fugitives. Beveral skirmishes
were had and the lodisus were driven
hard, but the fragment of them eventually
escaped into the mountain fastnesscs,
where it was impossible to pursue them
farther.
“1 was leadicg the advance party, and,
having a good horse, was some distance
ahead of my men when I came upon one
of the Apaches, who was urging his pony
to his utmost speed. [n front of him,
held with a strong grasp, was & boy of per-
haps 12 years of age, whose terror was
made greater by the tactics of the wily
Apache, who beid him up asa shield to
protect him from the shots of my Win-
chester. My horse, however, carried me
to his side, when'l seized the bndle of hus
pony with one baud; I dealt lm a blow
with the butt of my rifle, felling bim to
the ground. The Mexican boy also fell
with hum, but I picked lnm up and found
that he was uninjured, but terribly fnight-
ened. Tha: boy was Juan, who, after ce-
covering hus senses and realizing that he
bad been saved from & terrible Jdeath,
evinced his gratitude by every means in
his power, claspiog my kaees and calling
me in Mexican his ‘preserver’ and ‘savior.’
Finding that the Indians had escaped ua,
we retraced our course to the ruins of the
village, where we rejommed our comrades
and camped for the might, a few of the
Mexicans who bad run away st the first
attack returning to their devastated home.
“Every member of Juan's family had
fallen a victim 10 the ferocity of the Apa-
ches, and the next morning when we
started on our homeward course he man:-
tested such a sfrong desire to go with me
that 1 yielded, snd he sccompanied me
home. The Indians we had captured we
turned over to the Mexicap suthorities.
Jusn, now hike a son to me, has since been
a member of my household. Oae of the
principal objects of my wisit 1s lo place
him in a good school, as I intend to edu-
cate him as & gentleman.’
Conaemned Nickels,
An scrimonious appearing woman,
wiih more nose than chin, and less chun
than mouth, supported Lersel! by a hand-
strap in an overcrowded Madison street,
Chicago, car yesterday, while she passed
a new nickel to the conductor and
scowled st a watery-eyed little man with
red Dundreary whiskers who had just
dropped into the last available seal.
The conductor held the new nickel
within an inch of has right eye, closed
his left orb and scanned the coin 88 8
microscopist might have done examining
the fibres of the tiniest plant.
“Ind you think the Money was spuri-
oust” said the Daily News reporter, ges.
tioning the conductor when he bad re.
turned 10 the rear platform.
“No; 1 was lookin’ to see whether it
contained the word ‘cents.’ 1 am on the
watch for all them nickels that the gov-
ernment condemned because they dida™
contain the word cents. They are gettin’
very scarce, and they'll soon be worth a
good price. 1 sold four for 50 cenis the
other day 10 a young feller who wanted
‘em to make bangles or some such trinket
for his gurl. 1 have twenty-five or thirty
of ‘em left on hand yet. Yes, all the con-
ductors ison the watch for ‘em. We
heard they was sellin’ for §1 apiece in
New York, and you bet we ain't a-gom’ to
get left.”
The reporter visited a well-known dealer
in old snd rare coins on Randolph street.
“] am buying the condemned nickels of
1883," be said, “at 5 and selli
7 cents each. I paid 53 for the Jol.”
“Is there much demand for hese
“Yes,
from the nountry. 1 have
shipping a good
kansas,
and huy them io small lots and take them
out on their trips to sell to acquaintances
and customers for whatever prices
cso get, 1 bave alot held in reserve
thas issue
S80,
a time.
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