» THE HARVEST MOON, Faded tho last faint blush of evening's rose, And shadows gather in the sleeping vale, Where silent now, the rippling streamlet flows Bam the mist, that, rising dim and pale, Hovers over it like asilver vel), Hiding the tears upon the closed up flowers, That seem to weep for the day's vanished hours, "1 Across the heaven a mellow radiance steals, The mist grows brighter, and the silver stream Reflects the tender light which half reveals Earth's loveliness, and, like an infant's dream, Makes all things beautiful and holy seem; The harvest moon along the autumn sky Holds bor fair sway and bids the darkness fly. O'er fallen leaves, o'er hill and vale and plain, Qer ripened fruit and flelds of golden grain; O'er lovers, lingering in the mystic ligat, Whispering fond words beneath the silent night; O'er the great city in itssolemn rost, Q'er wealth and poverty, the worst, the best, Her luster falls, and through the listening air Breathes but of peace and beauty every- | where, Berene and pure she mounts the azure heaven, Telling the wondrous love her God to man has given. ~All The Year Round. A BUNCH OF FLOWERS. BY EMMA A. OPPER. Ethel Hapgood was pacing the long conservatory paths, gazing idly through | the steamy windows. An imaginative observer might bave classed Ethel as a hot-house flower. She was slender, delicately formed; she had thick yellow hair, starry blue eyes and a charming | face, whose chief color was the deep red of her lips. But Ethel bore great resemblance to ber father's father—a sturdy man, who, working with his own hands, had laid the foundations of the family possessions—a man of energy, originality, fine qualities, Sometimes Ethel, with all her delicate beauty, looked oddly like him. She did Bow, “What would poor mamma think” she murmured, guiltily. *‘She has done everything for me. Why am I dissatis- fied? What ails me?” And then she went on recklessly to answer the question. “I'm worn out—that is all. danced all winter, and gone to concerts and the opera and the theatre, and bowled with two clubs, and— What is the use in going over iti everything! I've been so popular that mamma bas been perfectly happy. I've bad so many favors at every German that I got to be a proverb. And Allen Lifford proposed, grieved that I dida't take him. Mr. Dinsmore—lI shouldn't dare tell mamma how I discouraged him—him snd his money. She'd be horrified. Oh, 1 shall never see & man! [I should know one if Isaw one, I'm not afraid of that. He might be a gentleman, 100; he might be of a fashionable set: he might be rich. Those things don't make s man. But if be was manly—if he had spirit and ambition aod brightness, and wasn't contented doing absolutely nothing, and didn’t think his clothes were all impor tant, and never drawled and never bored how i f ald like him! I shall never,” said Ethel, with solemn emphasis, ‘‘never see him. Well, and here we are at West Bedfora for summer. To ‘rest,’ mamma says. And how I could rest if it h the wasn't West Bedford! I'd take the dogs | and tramp in the woods and hills all day. But it's a ‘resort,’ and the Stanley's are here, and the Eameses, and mammsg is | planning little teas and dances in this great country place we've hired, and there's a picauic next week, and a dance at the finest hotel to-night, and mamma and I must go. And [shan't get a min. ute’s rest before next season sets in and do as all the other girls are doing without A quUalM~dance some more and flirt some more, and marry the best catch | * that offers. Mr. Dinsmore. perhaps.’ Ethel laughed, snatched a white pink, tossed her pt tty ad, sad strolled to war her grandfather, Nhe the girl the world took ber to be—but nobody would ever know she was not. What could she dd? Noth lng! and hopeless heart.rebellion mere ly made her uncomfortable, Good-bye to it! Khe Wis 1 almost stepped on the toes of somebody bastily catering the conserva- tory, as she would have passed out, A Wau, and a young man. A perfec simaager. “i beg your in pordon!" he maid, breezy, bright toues; “but 1 found the | proper entrance locked, and around here The florist—can me where to find him?" "Somewhere in the shrubbery,” Ethel almost gasped *“Thaok you! I'll hunt him ap. 1 want some flowers, you know," said the Young man, or hh Ahi Ethel was quick of perception, Blie knew the 1 of door of the conserva fory, It opeued on the road, fon the convenience of the gardener and florist, whose cottage was just seross from it, “Absurd srrangement,” Ethel's moth or had observed, driving past, “You might take it for a public hot -house.” And the interloper—the tall, broad. shouldered, bright faced, agreeable ine letloper bad taken it for precisely that. Ethel looked down, looked up, smiled faintly, then looked demurely inscruta. ble. Her girl friends had always de. and that sho dared, if she chose, do any . % of guess Joan ges them for you,” she aid, E(w ERE ig! WOR!" He looked plessantly sur: re his daughter?” I came you tell present large | I've | I've done | and mamma was | And | : And . : : : I shall forget sll these funny notions, the door, | King rather less like | Ethel nodded vaguely. “Well, I'll be awfully obliged to you, Roses and pinks, please, and valley lilies—anything. As big and nice a bunch as you can fix.” ji Assuredly her mischievous plot had its drawbacks. To be taken for the daughter of a country florist! to be or- dered about like any serving-maid! She, Ethel Hapgood! Yet, why was it so far from being disagreeable? Was it that this man was so oddly to her taste, with his hardy young strength, his keen gaze, his careless, rough country suit—sn like a flesh-and-blood embodiment of her late wistful imaginings? “Very well,” she said, gently. “Our choicest flowers are beyond the palms { there.” | Sheled the way. When a great cactus {leaf threatened to brush her face he | pushed it aside, and then they smiled at cach other in friendly fashion. | “I'm not long in these parts,” he vea- | tured. **We're here for the summer, my mother and I. We've rented the | Flagg place. You know itt” | Oh, yes, Ethel knew the Flagg place! | She did not; but she was in the spirit of | it now, and enjoying it. She felt equal to any needed mendacity, “Right up among the hills,” she ob- served-—every place in West Bedford being right up among the hills, “Yes. Do you know anything about the shooting?" asked the young man, anxiously. ‘Is there any?” ‘Any amount,” Ethel rejoined, with enthusiasm. “Whew, but I'm glad!" he said boy- ishly. “What's the country without shooting, and fishing, and boating, and all the rest? But then I'm an enthusiast, a crank, to be candid. I'm addicted to outdoor doings as no fellow ever was.” | “It's a healthy taste,” Ethel re. | marked. | i He had not appeared, and it piqued her a little, to be as greatly struck by her charms as men invariably were; but her readily sympathetic manner gained for her another quick, genial smile. He had taken off his soft cap and was absently crumpling it, which showed his dark hair and the crinkle in it. “So itis,” he agreed, *‘and productive of healthy conditions. 1 can ovutwalk anybody but professionals, I reckon.” He laughed, “1 wish I could,” Ethel said, sincerely. “It's all in getting used to it, you know,” he rejoined. ‘A little every | day. Can you rowi” | “I pever learned.” | She bad wasted to but ber mother had opposed it. | “Oh, but you ought! I contracted that fever at college; but it has served me well. I had a great time down on | the river here yesterday. 1 caught four eels, four old shoes and a mud-turtle.” | They laughed jovially. | “But I discovered—I vow it—a totally new kind of water-weed.” ‘You and Thoreau should have trav. eled together." “Oh, you've read him? I have. he not & geniusl” It did not seem to strike him oddly, the florist's daughter's having read Thoreau; but he looked at her with ad. miring, brightened eyes. There was a blue lacing in his flannel shirt; his haods were large, strong, tanned. Ethel noticed everything with a strange inward tremor. It was as though her hero had fallen from the skies, “Your flowers!” she murmered. “I'd forgotten them!” he vowed, laughing. They're for a young lady, so suit your own taste, sad she'll be suited, probably.” “Oh!” Ethel said, faintly, “Yes; a young lady I've never seen, either. Bat her brother was a classmate of mine at college. He's away, but I've found since I've been here that his fam- ily is summeriog here. So I thought I'd send bis sister some flowers to-day and call to-morrow.” “Oh, yes!" Ethel assented, | She was armuging flowers briskly now. Of course! Flowers for his classmate’s sister. Who was shel She mught be one of a hundred stylish girls. West | Bedford was full of them. Ethel frowned. ‘She can wear them to the dance to. night,” she suggested, coolly, “I know there is on sat the hotel.” “I know there is one,” he rejoined, with a faint groan. “My mother wishes me take her to look on, [1 shall draw the line at dancing. I never care to, after a long trampang day, as ['ve made this. { I've covered ten miles, I fancy. talking of a tramp trip in Scotland next fall.” Bat the florist’'s daughter was absorbed in the Sowers, “Some smilax!” she said, with profes. sional indifference. “Oh, anythiog!” he responded, try: ing to cateh her eye again, “And a few white camellias?” she said, not letting him, “Iam sure it will be exquisite,” he answered, What was the matter with her! A worried look came into his handsome eyes, but she was not noticing. | “You mustn't think,” he said pre- sontly, ‘that [ ama worthless, idle fellow, gudding about for my aimless amuse. ment, [I fear you do. I'm in business ~stock -brokemge-~but my mother has insisted on my taking 8 yoar off because I had] believe, really, it wasn't much more than a severe cold-—last winter,” | Ethel smiled alittle, That last state. ment, that he worked, was the last | shred of proof she had required to con. tirm her growing certainty that he was | «ob, bo wasn mannan ideal man! | And she wished he had not com that proof; for were not these flowers | 10 go to-day to his schoolmate's sister! Was he not going to call on her to-mor- row! Was I'm | thing!" She felt shecould not be self-controlled much longer, and she all but flew along the narrow walk to the door, typing for n parting nod then swiftly disappear ing. He stared after her wide-eyed. For the first time he saw how graceful she was, how fair-faced, and crowned by what an mass of yellow hair! Then he took himself and his flowers slowly away. Ethel ran to the Lonse, to an upper room and to a window. Yes, she could see him plainly as he went. What a stride he had, and how he carried himself? Strength, simplic- ity, energy that was what she read. ‘“Yes, he was every inch a man, She had believed, in her foolish pride, that no such a one existed, or that none such would cross her path, Yet he had. Yes, that was quite the phrase-~he had crossed her path, and would not be likely to recross it. Or, if he should, there would be his schoolmate's sister, on whom he was to call to-morrow, and to whom the flowers would go, * . * . * . The Herkimer House parlors were well filled that evening, and the gathering was select and brilliant. Ethel and her mother came late, but that only added lustre to their triumphal entrance, Mrs. Hapgood was entirely used to such happenings as those which fol. lowed, Mrs. Eames introduced three young men; Mrs. Stanley produced four; they were unwillingly forced to produce others, Ethel was the centre of an eager throng-—easily the bright star of the as- semblage. Bhe looked uncommonly lovely in white and lavender, with a great bunch of flowers—roses, pivks, camellias, But her eyes bad a searching, preoc- cupied look, which her partners, obsery- ing it, were not greatly flattered by. She bad danced the third quadrille, and was standing listlessly at her moth- er's side, fastening a loose ribbon, when Mrs. Stanley came signin, beaming. “Mr. Sutherland wants to meet you,” she said—**Miss Hapgood.” Ethel gravely istroduced him to her mother. But her mother was talking to Colonel Eames, and Mr. Butherland offered his arm, and they strolled away | together, ““Is your next dance taken!” he said timidly, “Yes,” she answered. But she never danced i. They went slowly down the long bail and sat down in perfect silence on a retired sofa; thea she looked at him, swith her blue eyes very bright. “I received the flowers,” she said, *‘and I'm very grteful. Frank has spoken of you so many times, Mr. Sutherland, that I am glad to know you." He returned her look with his wonted steadiness, Was he handsomer in evening dress? She didn't know, trick,” he vowed. ‘It was my fault, of Hapgood, when I caught sight of you and the flowers twenty minutes ago. I saw it all then. How I'd blurted into o private green house—yours—like an awk. ward great booby, and ordered a bouquet of you, and-—oh, I trembled! I assure you I shook. I've been ail this time get. ting up courage to come to you. afraid you'd cut me dead.” “Why!” said Ethel, cheerfully, “We bad rather a pleasant time, didn't wel What could I do! You took me so by storm! I got the flowers. That was my simplest course. And it turned out so neatly. I thought I was arranging them for some ungrateful young woman who would never appreciate it, but—there's the greatest poetical justice, Mr. Suther- land, in my being your schoolmate's sister. [ think I performed an im. promptu waltz when those flowers came.” “You have brought relief to my troubled soul,” he said, seriously and softly. To Mm. Stanley, who had introduced them, Ethel's mother made a long con. fideuce, a few months later. She was in serene good spirits. “It was one of those affairs,” she declared, ‘that seem foreordained and inevitable. I knew from the first, and everybody knew, that Philip Southerland was in love with Ethel. and Ethel with him. It seemed almost that they had liked each other before they knew each other. I can't explain it. I know their liking was immediate and mutual, and so great! Do you know, I had been worrying about Ethel ever since she came out! I was afraid she never would be surted. Sach eligi- ble men as would have married her! and she passed them by without a thought in spite of all my remonstrances, and she is always considerate of me. I never she never mentioned. You know how never wholly in ber confidence; I don't know, would marry. she thinks him ection! And so do to the best could I mak? I'm free to say that | am Perfame From Orange Blossoms. knew what was the matter with them; | silent and thoughtful Ethel is some- | times, the dear girl. Porhups I was | At any rate, I feared she never | But Philip Sutherland, | gardner-——I mean, pay to-morrow-—any- : THE FARM AND GARDEN. VALUE OF SWEET APPLES. Wherever apples are plentiful sweet apples sre neglected and scarcely salable, They are not good for pies, but for bak- ing whole are superior to sour apples. If their excellence thus cooked were better known it would cause increased demand, and inure to the advantage of consumer as well as the producer. In the absence of the demand for sweet apples the trees that produce them me dug up or grafted over to sour frait,— Boston CQultivator, COLOR IN HORSES AND CATTLE, According to the Western Agricul. turist the white color of horses and cattle | has been developed from tropical re- sources, and it is clearly shown by the | superiority of the white horses of the . desert and the tendency of horses and cattle taken from the colder climates of the North to the hot climates of South America and our Southern States that the gray colors increase and withstand the heat better, The gray horses are | more popular in the Southern States and | bot climates, THE CULTURE OF ASPARAGUS. Asparagus may be grown from seed and will reproduce itself true to the variety, | cure one-year-old plants from the seeds. men and set these out in beds, The soil should be made rich and deeply worked. | The plants are set out in rows three or i four feet apart and a foot apart in the | rows. The crop is not cut until the sec- ond year after planting, when a few | stalks may be cut, but not many until the third year, as garlier cutting checks the | growth of the roots. Conover's Colossal and Paluetto are the two best varieties. The roots can be purchased for #1 per 100, Profit” gives full information of the cul- ture of this and all other garden crops. The roots should be set at least five in- | ches under the surface and it is best to round up the beds & few inches. The first year small vegetables may be grown between the rows. —Aew York Times. ] FATTENING CHICKENS FOR THE The three prime rules to be observed are: Bound and varied foods, warmth, and cleanliness, There is nothing that 8 fattening fowl grows so fastidious about as his water. If water anyw iy foul be offered him, he will not drink it, but sulk with bis food and pine, and you ali the while wondering the reason why. Keep them separa‘e, allowing to each | bird as much as you can spare, spread the ground with sharp sandy gravel, and | take care that they are not disturbed. In addition to the regular diet of good corn, make a cag? of ground oats or beans, brown sugar, milk sad mutton suet. Let the cake lie till it is stale, then crumble it, and give each bird a gill measureful morning and evening. No entire grain should be given to the fowls during the time they are fattening—indeed the se. | cret of success lies in supplying them “You played me an awfully mean | course. But I tell you I was scared, Miss | I was | | disaster, with nutritious food without stizs, and in such a form that their digestive mill shall find no difficulty in grinding it.— Journal of Agriculture, USES OF LEAVES, According to the health and vigor of the foliage of any plant, writes Josiah | Hoopes, will be its usefulness; the direct bearing on fruit and flowers 1s incaloul- able. If a plant’be defolisted the suc. ceeding crop of fruit will be greatly in. Jured, if not ruined, and the growth | | damaged for some time to come. Hence the lcav ss may well be termed the vital organs of vegetable life. By their ap pearmnce we may judge of the constitu- tion of trees and plants. If destructive insects or diseases are present the foliage at once shows a departure from health, and is & signal to the owner that the plant needs immediate attention. Other symptoms appear later, but sickly, yel low tinted foliage is the forerunner of Application of fertilizers to the soil shows at once in the leaves, by | increase of size and a deeper green color, Luxuriant foliage always denotes aug- mented growth and consequent useful. | ness. The practice of partial defoliation | of trees and vines ‘to admit air and light to the fruit,” is a grave error. While light at all times is beneficial, full { sunlight is not a necessity, and an : | : i LI. Rich and well-born, and accustomed | possible society, what more | unutterably thankful I" — Saturday Night, | abundance of leaves collecting vapor and gases from the air perform an immense smount of good, far more than the mere rays of the sun shining directly on the skin of the fruit. Much summer prun. ing is consequently to be discouraged, excepting in rare instances where an un healthy growth is to be removed. Varie- gated-leaved plants arePuot unhealthy, as may be seen by their strong growth of wood and apparent freedom from dis- ease; their peculiar color is the result of some abnormal condition. —New York Tribune, FALL PASTURING OF MEADOWS, It is a common practice in many parts the country to turn the cattle, horses shoep upon the hay fields after the of bay has been gathered, and the crop, or “‘rowen,” has in luxuriant growth, There is a fir ig i: i iif 2 £ gi i But the better way is to pro- | Peter Henderson's Gardening snd | TABLE. | Moreover, it is the habit of grass plants to form a thick mat or carpet over the ground, which serves as protection for the roots against the washing of heavy rains, the alternate thawing and freezing of early spring, and the scorching heat of late summer, When mendows are cropped by cattle, many plants are torn outright from the soil, the roots of others broken or loosened and exposed to frost, rain and heat, In addition to this, the feet of the stock are constantly packing the soil solidly around the plants, which hinders free drainage; or making foot holes that become basins for water and ice. But the actus! injury to the grass plant is not all—by feeding off the second growth nature's plans for protecting the | grass during the cold of winter are | thwarted, and very much of “winter | killing" is the result. Where sncws lie deep and continuous, this difficulty is not so apparent, but even cold climates {are subject to ‘‘open” winters, which | are sufficiently trying to grase lands, even | when well protected. — American Agri culburist, FARM AND GARDEN NOTES. When two limbs cross cut the weaker. Give the fowls green feed every day. | Every boy likes fruit. cultivate it, A spare hour is never iost in cutting unripe weeds, Teach him to Corn and clover are said to deepen the color of the yolk, If you have milk to spare, try its effect as an egg producer, | Chickens kept on low, wet land are | pretty sure Lo have gapes, | Domestic animals need good shelter {in the changeable weather of spring and fall. In breeding stock do not expect to get better animals than those you breed from. Ground bone and wood ashes or pot- ash and phosphoric acid are good for fruit, If you want to check the growth of a y trim it when in fall leaf or just be- fore, tree instead of hunt. It saves work and aise your ‘‘greens” ing them in she lots, time, of Cull out the poorest the young roosters from the flock snd est or sell i them. Don’t stuff your pizs or hogs with corn, Itis better to pasture them on clover. If sheep are kep: for mutton and wool, take well selected ewes and breed to thoroughbred rams. When a fowl cesses to give a good re. turn for the feed given, it is time to plan for his disposal. the breed. condition. iu the off. It is very desirable to keep ing stock in a gond, thrifty A failure to do this will show spriong. Too close breeding should be avoided with sheep fully as much as with any other class of stock. Change the same | every two weeks at least, Troughs should always be provided for feeding all kinds of soft feed to | poultr§. Make them tight and arrange | them so that they can be cleaned readily, If kept in good condition, nearly or | quite all kinds of poultry cam be fat. tened in two weeks of good feeding. But they must have all that they can cat four or five times every day. Zt this season the best time to sell poultry is when a price can be realized that will return a fair profit. Holding for high prices for the next three months | is, to say the least, very uncertain. {If the sheep are turned into the com. field care should be taken to see that they | have access to plenty of water. It is hardly good economy to turn sheep into | | any place where there are cockle burrs, | Asa general rule, when prices for | poultry begin to drop in the fall they | keep down until after the holidays, and it rarely pays to sell young poultry at {that time. Provide good quarters and | keep until prices are better, Too much live stock is quite as bad | for the farmer as too much land. De | not crowd the stock, and do not keep ! more than can be well fed, pastured well | and housed well. If you have more than | this sell off the surplus speedily. Do not let the drinking vessels of the poultry stay in the same place more than | one or two days ata time. More or Jess | water is spilled by the fowls whea drink. {ing, and in a few days this will smell { foul. By moving about this can easily be avoided, should be two years old before using, and can be kept until he is five pian to keep turkey beas after they are three years old, The guinea is a very useful fowl, not. withstanding , though small, are of good quality snd pute. tious, An Old Word Revived. A tendency to revive the sid Saxon term “road” is seen in B £ ! § £ : H f i i Ti | maid the grocer; *‘here, bold on + Milk in a Paper Bag. A merry~hearted lad, who is often sent on errands of household needs and neces- sities, discovers a new method of “bring. ing home groceries and sich.” “Here are two pounds of chops, good scant weight,” said the grocer to the young man of the family who hed brought in an order from his wife; ‘‘now for your milk—where's your can? The young man of the family protested that be hadn't read the order, and had not been equipped with a ean. ‘Never mind,” to i,” and he dexterously slipped one paper bag inside of another and filliped the ——— | to get people to believe that they | carry milk in a bag st first, and let it go | mile by slow transit; | younot to stop to tell long stories on the | creatures . or “swam the waters under the earth In determining what turkeys to mse for breeding, remember that the gobbler | years | old, but as a general rule it is not a good | corners into place. The two quarts of milk were poured into the inner bag, “The grease in the milk prevents its go. | ing through the paper, as water would,” explained the grocer. *‘lhad hard work could half a ndvise I've sent it so still, I'd at my own risk. way home.” — American Dairyman, EE ——— The Man-Faced Crab. of the that One most singular-Jooking ever walked the earth is the world-famous man-faced crab of Japan, Its body is hardly an inch in length, yet the head is fitted with a face which is the perfect counterpart of that 8 Chinese coolie; a veritable missing link, with eyes, nose and mouth all clearly de- fined. This curious and uncanny crea- ture, besides the preat likeness it bears to a human being in the matter of facial features is provided with two legs, which seem to grow from the its head and hang down over the sides of its face. Besides these legs, two ‘‘feclers,” about an inch in length, grow from the ‘‘chin” of the animal, looking for all the world like a | forked beard, These man-faced fairly swarm in the inland seas of St. Lowis Re- public. top of each ‘olonel's crabs Japan, «— mms ——— Bismarek’s Gallantry. Prince Bis- marck has lost none of his ga lantry. To a young lady who lately asked to be al- lowed to kiss his hand, he replied, “Oh, That for so charming a His Excellency, without further ado, gave the young lady a kiss. The Prince is very sctive in business matters when at howe on In bis brick-kilns at Friedrichsrube he is producing a new kind of brick and tile. In place of his saw-mills, which were burned down not long ago, he has erected new ones, which are busily engaged in executing some large orders for wood The Prince's income from Lis mills and other industrial works is reported to be up- f $50,000 a New York In spite of his old age, Do! i not good enough damsel ! Whereupon his estate, pavement, ward « year, Tribune " —_— ———— Ih Elixi OF ifs, Is what my wife and | call Hont's Saree perilia. She was ln delicate health twos pears of Inet onfoed 10 Ler bed, osused by dyspepsia and seuralgia. Fhe bas taken three bottles of Hood's Sersaparifia, snd bas regained her health and Sirength, oan esl sarthing without distress. 8 Srovea, Ex U8 Marshall, Charisstown, JeTemon County W.Va NB Besure opt Hood's Sarsaparilla The best Blood purifies the bes! nerve helper, the best strength bubider, HOOR'S PILI Sclavigersts the Bver, rege ote The bowis. Effective, but pentie, Price Ba EverMorher Should Have It in The House. Dropped on Bugar, Children Love to take ORTON ANOBYER Lawrmury for Croup, Colds, Sore Throet, Tonstlitia, Colle, Cramps and Pains. Be Peres all Summer Oomplatnts, Cuts and Bruises ike magia. Mold everywhere, Price Be. by nfadi § hotties Kxoress paid, BL AL 8 JOHNSON & 00. Dospan am, ELY'S a td CREAM BALM CATARRH whens applied nto sacri vy i eT eet al at] uni Wanemy the howd starrial vie ng beaiihy wis re imBae atl om priests the mem tov oe Troms additions a, completely hemis Le vores apd re Hore sem and sme f tase Irs ihe Lure, A particle shiv. Pyiow applied tate emeh he ai BOWE sad 18 aghes rage or by mall LY BROTHERS. 3 ar rect, New York PILLS The Great Liver and Stomach Remedy Por the eure of a1 disorders of (he Stomach, Lives, Booed, Kidneys, Maddern, vervous Diseases, bons of Avpetite, Henduohe, Comtipntion, Oostiveness, Ia digweation, Ilwamess, Fever, lnflummetion of We Bowes Pies and ail derangements of tae Imteroel Vierwrn, Purely v. moataining Be mereury, arage. PERFECT DIGESTION wars Mie dimmer pit, SICK HEADACHE Wil he sevoss plished by 1k ng one of Rade “very ag, shoul ten e'vionk, a a Br a Solne Pain wm the Mead, hl wens of the Win I —. hn ard Budden oe fo dos of HAD AVR PILLS will free wl the More I) X wu bn Rr SRE Les ed a TN wan APA — Sn —
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers