YOL. XXX.
Special to the Trade.
-MEL'S GRAND
BARGAIN SALE.#-
This sale is a grand clearance sale. I will soon start East and be
fore going I wish to reduce my stock, so i have gone through
all goods and have placed 011 sale a Lrgc b>t of Men's, La
dies', Hoy's, Misses' and Children's Shoes and Oxfords
to fit and suit all and at extremely low prices.
Bargain seekers should not let tin's grand op
portunity pass by as these are greater
bargains than ever before offered.
Full stock of Gent's fine Russia
Calf Shoes, lace or Blucher style, at
$2.75 to $4.00. Full st< ck of La
dies' Russia Calf Bluchers, common
sense or piccadillyr style, at $2.00 to
$3.50, all styles and w idths. Our
stock of Ladies'and Misses' Oxfords
is larger than ever before, prices 75c
to $2.50. Men's Black Oxfords at
SI.OO. Men's Tan Oxfords at $1.25.
Men's Southern Ties at $1.50. Full lock o!
Men's Dongola and Wine Color Creole shoes at
$1.50. Men's Patent Leather Shoes at $5-5". Men's
Patent Leather Pomps at Our stock ot Men shine
Shoes is large and prices very low. Men's Calf Shoes $1.50,
any style. Men's Kangaroo shoes $2 50; hand-sew 1 Cordovans $4.
AN J3 MANY OTHER BA IiOA. I NS.
At all times a full stock ol our own make box-toe boots and shoes.
BOOTS AND SHOES MADE TO ORDER. REPAIRING NEATLY DONE.
Orders by mail will receive prompt attention.
When in need of anything in my line ;ive me a call.
JOHN BICKF;I,
128 SOUTH MAIN STREET. • BUTLER. PENN'A.
1 ; ..?
This is a perfect picture of our new
Furniture and Housefiirnishing Goods
house. One of the largest, and most
complete stores of the kind in Western
Pennsylvania.
FURNITURE:
We have all kinds, Parlor Suites, Bedroom
Suites, Hall Racks, Dish and Book Cases,
Side Boards, Dining Tables, Chairs, Baby
Buggies, Refrigerators, &c, &c.
QUEENSWARE:
Decorated Dinner Sets, Tea Sets, Plain
White Dinner Sets, Decorated and Plain
White Toilet Sets from to SIO.OO.
Ask to see our Toilet Set at ss.oo,cheapest
and best in the world. Lamps, &c.
HOUSEFURNISHING GOODS:
Cook Stoves and Ranges, Tinware, Wood
en Ware, &c. Don't fail to see our new
range the "Perfect,"one of the best cook
stoves and ranges on the market for tne
money. Every stove warranted.
Campbell & Templeton,
" ! ♦ ""
Jewelry, Clocks,
Silverware,
Purchasers can save from 25 to 50 per
cent by purchasing their watches, clocks
and spectacles of
J. R. GRIEB, The Jeweler,
. No. 125 N T . Main St., Duffy Block.
Sign of Electric Bell and Clock.
All a.e Respectfully Imited
—"Remember our Repairing Department—2o years Experience."—
THE BUTLER CITIZEN.
■ THE KIND *
I THAT CURES
1 * —^
I p ■*
; I m • v w
■
g W
I
ll#i* -
;r= 'fWw Ps* \?K " f;'.\
Justs" Kir.Ki y. 2.\i>,
I >!»■ V. jpg
(Dyspepsia to? r -0 Years U?
j TRIEI* EVERYTHING,
i
ACU R E .
I Pno ficttoi* eut thuth F
I | DANA S3
g GK.vr. -i o l.n •! 1 treat -.ufff.'rr i : .-"-
wm •• r yesu-M M I iiVsiM'.PMI A ajj
1 I \ »;«. *-HI
S l O SI.«:KI' tVKI.I. I ■ • V .r.-t
sill" «!i»on!r-r. I r :,i- fmy di;.'.-:ivo otjsi.
I H| I bought a bottle o! HS
i |g DANA'S ss
! i SARSAPARILLAI.
Han,] it HELPCI} ft Ml'( ll£-
I bought the 8- t or;«l. 11-f.that v - t ki-i «■
■ u>v lIYSPKPSIA WAS ( ! MKD.fIE
= 1 ! (Oil.)
g \LL \K.HT. i I.i: r \
■ \ EW M V V. V...iri U . W
= Mu*er.t, N. V. JOHN KIKKt.V, 2;- !. =h_
H To whom it may concern:—XV? erf* w« !l a.'- ifi
with Mr. Kirkey, and knuiv t:..it tu 1
= \v»ul«t not inukv :in.v utati-mcni ihatMj
■ ""* untrue. STLARNS & SXAITII. wB
—= M*ucna, N. Y. Drujgwta. ==
■ *
5 DANA'S LIVER AND KIDNEY PILLS aro<
■ worth their weight In Gold. They are®
■""D. D. D.'S.-OANA'S DISEASE DE-gi
Try a bottle at our risk. B
jjj Dana Sartaparllla Co., Beliast, Mains, gp
I
feed. For jrio-s u:.d terms A.d
--drei-s,
.i, \v. m i lli:r,
131 Mtrcer Si , Hntlcr'Pe.
SPRING
STYLES
READY.
•ev&tv. 'ct irg'isv.
YOU WILL CERTAiNJ.Y
HAVE A SLIT ADE TO
ATTEND THE WORLDS
FAIR. YOU CAN AF
FORD IT,WHEN YOU
SEE THE SPLEN
DID ASSORT
ENT CE
ATERIAL,
AND THE MOD
ERATE PRICE AT
WHICH WE MAKE
YOU A SUIT TH \T IS
CORRECT TO 'J HE I-ATEST
DECREE OF FASHION.
Aland's,
Tailoring Establishment.
C. & D.
ALWAYS
Take into confiideratiou »bat money
saved is as good as money earned.
The best way to ?ave money is :o
bay good poods at the right price.
The only reason that < ur trade is
increasing constantly is the fact that
we handle only goods of first quality
and sell them at, very low prices
We have taken nou-ual care to
provide everything new in Hats and
Furnishing Goods for this season,
and as we have control of many
especially good articles in both lines
we can do you good if you come to
us.
We confidently fray that in justice
to themselves all purchasers should
inspect our goods.
Visit us,
COLBERT & DALE,
242 S. Main street,
Butler, Pa,
rt sf n Tr to *5 ten n *■
2 U A)S &I 1 ' * flr, ft
rrri ii i 1 i iiiil
IS T 03T F C E !
*TY , TUE WELL-
W flft 7
6 C Si grap tier;formerly
21 v A \> Lk the head ot the
' Wr-rtz-Hardm a n
Art Co., will opeu a Studio and Photo I'ar
lors opposite the Hotel Lowry, Cor, Main
and Jefterson Stx , Hutler, Pa This will
be the best, lighted and equipped Studio
and galleries in the the county. The work
wilt be strictly iir.'t cl.is< and ;ri tle under
new formulas by the artist, himself, who
has had 15 years practical experience in
large cities Portraits iu Oil, Crayon,
Sepia, Pastel, Ac. In this lino we have
no competition, Our portraits aro made
by hand in our own Studio, from sittings
or from photos Our work has reached
the highest standard of excellence ai.d
is not to be eonipaiv t with the cheap ui -
chine made pictures furnished by others.
Wast for us; get your pictures from us stud
, be happy.
UNSOPHISTICATED.
Ste was bashful, self-eonsciou9 but rosy,
Tt.i fro-,:. little bud from the fields;
She'd olufeh like the heart of a posy
When to tho soft zephyr it yields.
An 1 not be it.• well up In grammar.
She'J of.cn »ay "came" stead of "come,"
And she'd pick at her apror. and stammer,
And "at home." witb this maid, -5 "to
hum."
And the Question; she'd ask you were funny
On matters irrelevant quite;
But her smile was £0 open and sunny,
To ::nswer them all was delight.
And she'd i 11 you, with naive little touche*
Of frankness confiding as svreet.
Of things the most personal, such as
Her age and the size of her feet.
And cf auizzinj she'd never suspect you.
Though amu.ied at her sallies you were,
And her laughter uncurbed would infect you
As well a« her "bon ltommie" rare.
As for gl«n£—' -t ti'n . here the curtain,
And t itry olatig. mind you. pt that:
And, heavens: the town belles, I'm >. Ttain
'Most swooned at the style of her hat
Yet, still, this sweet maiden bucolic
Had virtue enough in her way:
Though rather too reaJy to frolic,
She kept moonlttj dudelets at bay.
In faci, Ehe had just ••r.cue'i "Fumption,"
Or call it good sense, if you please,
WhUq blandly ignoring presumption.
With a look the to freeze.
And then she could get up such dishes.
And "flxin's an' things," that you'd crwn
That never such cooking delicious
To tickle your palate you'd known.
Besides, she made all her own dresses
As weil as her sisters', they say,
And neatly she groom-, d her brown tresses,
Though not in conventional way.
So while all the jrirls in the city.
Where she'd ' come for to visit a spell,"
Tried, each, to be brilliant and witty f
And laughed at her frequent "do tell,"
She kept her own gait most demurely.
Nor noticed their quizzing ard chi.T,
And, all quite unconscious, was surely
On them neatly turning the laugh.
For soon it appeared thtt this posy,
So verdant and fresh from !h" fields:
So blushing, confidir.? rtn '. r^sy,
With arts that true innocence wields.
Had onptured nobility's scion.
The hope of the citlfit- l belie.
Who said, ai she sighed for her lion;
"Well there! Did you ever: Do tell.'"
—Emile PiekharcW, in Detroit Free Press.
THE VILLAGE OPERA.
A Lesson That Was Taught by the
Good Singer.
Near a little village in the south oi
Saxony there dwelt a musician. It
seemed that he had always been living
there, and yet in appearance he was
not old. His eyes were full of fire, and
the dark clustering hair still fell away
from his smooth, high forehead. His
figure was still eject and his step
buoyant and firm. Ho lived alone upon
the mountain that liunp over the pretty
valley. The children could plainly see
shining above them oil the
cliff, white against the purple shadows.
"See!" they would say to each other,
"that is where tho good singer lives."
When he came down into the little
town they would stand In the door
ways, smiling as he passed. But they
did not have that chance very often, for
mostly his way lay upward to the moun
tain's crest, where, above the clouds
that hid the summit from the sight of
those below, he spent days fitting
alone in the sun. Then he would cpme
down again to his little cottage, bring
ing with him beautiful songs and har
monies which he would Work out in his
study and set down in a music scroll.
While he was gone on these trips to
the mountain top, the villagers were
alwaj's on the lookout; and one Of their
mjmber had leave from his work in the
fields in order that he might constantly
watch so as to let the others know when
the singer should return. The watcher's
post was high on a cliff, in full view oi
the path winding down from above
Here, by bending ont with *he aid of a
stout bush, he could see the men at
work far below. If the breeze were
favorable, he could even hear their
laughter or catch a strain of a song or
two which the singer had taucjht them.
Then, swinging himself back upon the
cliff, he would watch the path that led
up into the mountain. In time he
would always be rewarded by a sight of
the singer coming down from the rocks
to his cottage below. When he came
near enough, the watcher would always
lean forward to catch the expression in
his eyes. They seemed full of the sun,
with that rare light indeed which come 9
only from looking down upon the world
like the sun itself. Such a sight the
watcher prized always as the chief
treasure of his memory. He who
caught It was very fortunate, for, as the
singer drew nearer to the village nest
ling in the valley, this strange light
faded slowly, and his face became as
before, full indead of nobility and sweet
ness, but not as luminous as it had
been.
When, however, at the bidding of the
watcher, the villagers thronged into
the singer's study at nightfall, the lus
trous eyes would half glow again with
their former fire as he sang to them the
songs he had brought with him from
the mountain top. A hush fell upon
the men and women as they listened.
They clasped hands silently and smiled
through their happy tears. If, per
chance, anyone stood in the crowd who
had aught against a neighbor, his face
relaxed as the singer sang, and his
hand stole out shyly to his enemy, who
grasped it eagerly, and the men were
friends. And if two women had quar
reled at their tasks, they laid Jtheir
beads in women fashion upon each oth
e?'s shoulders, and, weeping, became
sisters once more. So the singer sang,
and as the light from the hearth fire
ahone upon his face the villagers
thought: "It is an angel who brings to
us the songs he has gathered at the feet
of God!"
Thus year in and out they went from
tae fields and from the fireside up to
the little study of the singer. They
brought with them their common vex
atiens and trials. They came some
what hardened with the week's toil
and struggle, somewhat burdened with
their daily cares, for they were simple
folk and their valley was not over
bountiful. But one by one their
burdens dropped away as they listened
to the singer; and they took back with
them to theirjhousesall the warmth and
beauty and comfort of his songs. It
happened now and then that one,
touched more than usual by some song,
would beg to hear it again. But
smilingly the singer would answer that
all the songs were being written into
one great opera, and when he should
hear the whole he would find his song
again. Sometimes a mother would say,
pleadingly: "Give me the little song
which has spoken so comfortably t°
me. It is like the prattle of the little
one who rests so deep that 1 can no
longer take her in my arms." But the
singer, smiling still, shook his head,
and began another song so tender and
sweet and yet so joyful that the vil
lagers held their breath, and even the
mother no longer yearned for the song
which had been sung and was already
folded away within the scroll of the
great opera now almost full. They
said among themselves: "How beauti
ful must the entire work be, since these
are only parts!" Some, indeed, more
outspoken than the rest, safd often to
the singer: "When shall we hear the
whole opera?"' Then the singer, smil
ing ever, answered: "Bide thou,
friend, and never grow impatient."
At last, however, there came an even
ing when the singer said to his people:
"The opera is done!" They cried out
joyfully: "Now we shall hear it all!"
But he checked them, saying: "Xay,
you may not hear it yet." His voice
grew very gentle, as though he grieved
to disappoint them. "Good friends," he
went on, tenderly, "we have dwelt very
together, and y<?ur lovo has
HTTTLER, PA., FRIDAY, JULY l-i, 1893.
vefy dear to tne. Now, however,
I must leave yoo, for there are other
songs for me to sing and other operas
for me to write. I may not sing them
here, for all my songs to you are sung.
I must go to other villages."
But they cried: "Why dost thou
leave us alone? Witnout thee we shall
have no more singing."'
He answered: "I c. .v not linger,
d'ja.- friend; for if I tarried here I
should miss those other songs which
will be given me to sing Do you not
know that beyond your mountain there
are other villages that need the songs 1
have for them? Are you not willing
that they should have their music
also?"
They wept, saying: "Thou wert our
father, and we thy children, thou
knowMt; Vit henceforth without thee
we shall be mute."
lie, however, smiled and said: "Xay,
I have tasks for you." He held before
them the scroll in which were enfolded
all their songs. "You must learn the
opera which I have written, holding
all the songs which I had in trust for
you. When T return we shall sing it: for
there are many tunes, and many times,
and many keys. Without me to guide,
vou miss the central harmony.
But unto eaeh will I give the song I
t*ang for him alone, an 3 he shall learn
it VJ heart, that, when I return, alto
gether we tuay sing the opera, and I
will lead the whole.''
He divided the scroll among them,
and to each he gave his piece, some
large, some small, but every one hav
ing written upon it the song that had
been made for the receiver alone. Then
he dismissed them tenderly. They
went out weeping into the night, for
£hey grieved bitterly at being parted
from their singer. But they said
among themselves: "Shall we mur
mur because he goes to sin? to others?
Nay, did he not even tell us that if he
tarried he might lose the songs which
he should gather upon other mountains?
Surely that were a pity!" Thus they
comforted themselves. And w'ten by
their own firesides each found upon his
scroll the song which most had touched
him in the other days, he fell Weeping
to his knees and thanked the good God
who had given the singer this message
entirely for himself.
In the morning the village stirred
with a new life. The rflen went to the
field, carrying their scrolls with them,
and as. they rested from their work
they set about learning their song. It
was truly like a meadow of unfledged
farks learning to pip \ At home the
women, as they busied themselves with
household tasks or plied their needles,
sang cheerily as they spelled out each
new phrase. So through the day they
worked, laughing gleefully at each
other's mistakes and false notes. At
night they gathered together for a mo
ment to think of the singer who had
gone from vliem, but had left them each
his song, neither too high nor too low,
but just adapted to his voice and capa
ble of bringing out all its sweetest
tones. "The good singer," they said,
"how well he knew us all!"
So the days were spent in practice.
If by chance anyone grew weary and
his hope failed, or if, cast down for the
moment, he feared that the singer
might not, after all, return, he would
reassure himself, saying: "How grand
will the whole chorus sound!'' Some
times, too, one became spiritless and
disi -.-ag-ed over his task, rebelling at
his discords. Then would another say
to him: "Shall then the singer when
he comes be disappointed in thee?
What if, lacking thy one part, the
whole opera should wait?" Thus they
cheered each other.
As the seasons waned, however, and
the singer came not, the little doubts
began to grow stronger, the little dis
couragements were less easily recovered
from, and even (among the more indo
lent "of the villagers) could be heard
murmurs. "Of what use," they grum
bled, "is this trill here and that note
there? I never can sing it in that way;
no one will know if I leave it out." An
other was bolder still. "I will not
trouble myself with that phrase," he
would say: "I will write it over to suit
myself." Still others, more self-willed
than the rest, cried out: "Oh the stupid
song! it was good enough for last year,
but I have quite overgrown it. lam
sick of its old drone. I will make an
other like it, but more varied and bet
ter suited to my voice, w-hich of late
has grown so 'much stronger." And
there were one or two who found thoir
songs so small in comparison with oth
ers that they were quite angry and gave
up their parts altogether.
In vain did the wiser heads in the vil
lage remonstrate, for soon, indeed,
most of the villagers had followed the
lead of their bolder neighbors and
altered their songs tq suit themselves.
So it came about that only a few re
tained tho simple, sweet melodies
which the singer had left them. Of the
rest, some had put in new notes and left
out old ones, spme had changed the key
of their song to another which they
thought more suitable to their voice,
and some had so varied and simplified
their songs that the original theme
could scarcely be discerned. Most, in
deed, were, in this way and in that,
quite different from the songs left them
by the singer. It was true that a few
who thus changed their scrolls found
out their mistake too late, and tried to
erase the .alterations they had made.
But here and there they had forgotten
a note in the original melody, which,
try as they might, they could not re
store.
The villagers were in this condition
when, one morning, as, according to
their custom, they iooked up to the lit
tle empty cottage on .the cliff, they
found, to their great surprise, that it
was again occupied. They had waited
so long that at first they could not
credit their own eyes; but as they
looked they saw the yellow smoke curl
up from the chimney, and they couhl
no longer doubt that at last the singer
had returned to them. With mingled
feelings they awaited his summons to
the study, some with joy of hope ful
filled, others with a sense of their own
insufficiency and shortcomings, and
some with a heavy weight of shame.
And, truly, many lagged behind when
the little procession wound up the
mountain to tho cliff. None, however,
was so covered with dismay and con
fusion, or so steeped in ingratitude,
that he stayed behind altogether.
Even the most willful of them all
cared too much for the singer for that.
So, half-hastening, half-lingering, the
villagers went to greet him.
When all were gathered together in
the study they knew so well, and saw
him standing as they had so often seen
him, erect in the firelight, watching
them with the old luminous, tender
eyes, now smiling, now sad, they fell at
his feet with a cry, and, holding up
their worn and blotted scrolls, they
sobbed out their joy and their sorrow,
their struggle and their failure, like
children from their tasks at school.
The singer heard them with a gentle
Ijmile. He passed among them touch
ing now one and now another who
seemed most in need of comfort. By
and by a hush fell upon them all.
"My people," he began slowly, "I
have not lacked tidings of you in the
distant villages where I have dwelt. I
have heard how it has fared with tho
"songs which I left you, and how yon
bave forgotten the melodies which I
taught you. You have spoilt their
beauty and their sweetness, and you
have perverted their meaning by addi«
tions and renderings of your own. But
Ijecanse you have not forgotten me, the
singer, I have come to you that I may
teach you again the songs which I sang
to you. Faulty indeed now would be
the opera if I should join ajl these
blott£fl scrolls Into OBe, for the har
monies are grown discordant. You
must learn them over again. But that
you may not fail another time, I wish
yon to understand the full meaning of
tach song that 1 gave you, and how
necessary each is to the harmony of the
whole. Then, with renewed hope and
earnestness, you may set to work once
"Wore. L therefore, knowing how you
liao failed, have brought with me, fronj
pther villages which have better learned
tasks which I set them, a choir oi
singing men who will sing your oper»
for you, and show you how each song
and its place in the whole."
He opened an inner door. There, in
the full glow of many candles, stood a
band of men and boys, and on their
faces was a light that resembled the
singer's. They all carried scrolls writ
ten in the singer's own hand. He him
self, stepping forward, gave them the
signal. On a sudden they began all at
once to sing, and the sound broke ou
the people like a sea of light. They
raised their faces from the ground and
wiped away their tears. They seemed
bathed in the glorious harmony. With
wonder they looker 1 , at each other. One
said: "Surely tha , cannot be my little
song!" and another: "Could mine have
soumled like that?" And they clasped
each other's hands as in the old days,
and wept with joy. Theji the singer
began to sing above them all a song
Which they had never heard. It filled
the pauses of the other songs, and glor
ified them.
When the last notes died away, they
stood hushed and awed, and their faces
shone like the faces of the choir wen.
They said: "Sing us again that new
song." But the singer answered, smil
ingly: "Nay, you must learn your own
songs first. Then will I sing you the
new one, completing your harmonies
with the master song." The villagers,
still clasping each other's hands, with
their hearts full of joy and love of the
singer, cried out, eagerly: "Give us
again our old songs, that we may learn
to sing them aright."
lit, still smiling, took from the choir
men the fresh scrolls written in his own
hand, and gave them to the villagers.
Then they went slowly back to their
quiet valley. But the singer stood
long in his study window, looking down
upon them from the cliff. He smiled
gently, and said softly to himself:
"Bide thou, and never be impatient,"
just as he had so often said to his peo
ple.—Christian Union.
Captains Are Captains.
As a magnificent steamer, the prop
erty of the Peninsular & Oriental com
pany, was steaming into Southampton
harbor, a grimy coal-lighter floated im
mediately in front of it An officer on
board the vessel, observing this, shouted:
"Clear out of the way with that
barge."
The lighterman, a native of the
Emerald isle, shouted in reply: "Are ye
the captain of that vessel?"
"> T o," answered the officer.
"Then spake to your aiquals," said
Pat. "I'm the captain of this."—Lon
don Figaro.
—Fortune Teller (to extravagantly
dressed girl)—" Your husband will be
& poor man—unless—" Maiden (eager
ly) —"Unless what?" Fortune Teller—
"You dress more economically after
marriage than you do now."—lJp.rper'a
HOAXES ABOUT CANNIBALS.
There Is Not Near So Much Man-Eating
as Generally Reported.
Dr. Livingstone, in a hitherto unpub
lished letter, warns his friend. Dr.
Hamilton, against accepting too read
ily stories of cannibalism among Afri
can tribes. The Manyuema, among
whom he had been then living for
many months, are reputed to be canni
bals, and the people themselves, being
"a laughter-loving" race, appear to en
joy the joke of hoaxing the white man
on this subject. One showed Dr. Liv
ingstone the head of a "recent human
victim," but it proved to be the skull of
a gorilla. Dr. Livingstone persever
ingly tried to get a sight of one of the
cannibal orgies which the traders
profess to have seen or heard
of, but in vain. Ho offered
goods of the value of £1 to any
one who would call him to see human
fleSh cooked or eaten, but nothing
came of the offerl Livingstone con
trasts this absence of evidence with
the terrible traders' tales he had heard
at Ujiji and the information given by
adjacent tribes. "If I had believed,"
he says, a "tenth part of what I heard
I should never have ventured hither."
An Odd Instrument.
The Scandinavian "lur" is a slender
bronze horn in the shape of an S. It is
found in the bogs of Sweden and the
coast of Germany near Denmark.
Its length is six to seven feet, and the
twist is in two planes. The metal is
thin, and cast in sections, which have
been fitted together. There is no ex
isting musical instrument like it, and
its probable age is two to three thou
sand years. Not long ago some of
these ancient "lurs" were played at a
concert given by Dr. Angul Hammerich
at the Museum, Copenhagen.
Blood In Their Eyes.
More than twenty years ago A. R.
Wallace published a letter from a Cali
fornia correspondent which said that
the horned toad squirted from one of
its eyes "a jet of bright red liquid very
much like hlood." Of course everybody
thought it was "a California yarn."
Now Mr. O. P. Hay has proved that
horned toads do squirt a red liquid
from their eyes when vexed, and that
the liquid is blood.
Ilow to Be Ilappy.
Old Gent—On the eve of your mar
riage let me give you a piece of advice.
Remember when your wife's next
birthday comes, and give her a hand
some present.
Young Man—Yes, oi course.
"Give her the best your pocket can
buy every birthday, hut at Christmas,
New Year's, and such times, give her
only inexpensive little tokens. Form
that habit."
"Yes; but why?"
"It will pay."
"I presume so."
"Yes. In a few years you can begin to
forget the birthdays, and she won't
say a word." —N. Y. Weekly.
Doing the Bight Thing.
Young Man—l deliver ice at your
house and I thought I'd sec if you
wouldn't do the right thing by me in
the purchase of a ring for a young
woman.
Jeweler—llow high do you want to
go?
Young Man —About eight dollars.
Jeweler —You deliver ice at my house,
you say?
Young Man —Yes.
Jeweler —Well, there's a six-dollar
ring, but under the circumstances you
may have it for eight. —Judge.
in Chicago.
She —Mrs. Lakeleigh is very lucky.
Every time she marries, she gets a rich
husband.
He —Yes; and always divorces a poor
one. —Life.
Brilliant Work.
"King writes me that he is doing
some very brilliant work now."
"Yes; he is writing ads. for a new
stove polish."—Demorest's Magazine.
A Valuable Pointer.
"I know how to succeed on Wall
street."
"Gives us the tip."
"Keep out of it." —Texas Siftings.
A Diplomat.
Gladys—Do you admire black eyes or
blue?
Aliar—The light is so dim here, I
really can't say.— Puck.
THE ODORIFEROUS OftlON.
ftoue People Don't I.lke It, Hat It II
Good for Tliem.
Onions, said a traveling man to a St.
Louis Globe-Democrat reporter; at*
too vociferous in their odor and too
self-assertive to be liked by anyone
possessed of u very strong veill. They
offer too much opposition. There i»
more to the onion, however, than Its
mere odor. Onions aro a kind of all
around good medicine and every
housewife knows this wit holt t know
ing why. She knows that a solid red
anion, eaten at bedtime, will by the
next morning break the severest cold.
She also knows that onions make a
good plaster to remove inflammation
and hoarseness. But she does not
know why.
If anyofie would take an onion and
mash it, so as to secure all of the
juice in it, he would have most re
markable smelling salts —an odbr
that would quiet the most nervona
person in no time. The strength of it
for a few moments will dull
the sense of smell and weaken the
nerves until sleep is produced from
sheer exhaustion. It all comes from
one property possessed by the onion,
and that is a form of opium. Oniopp
are narcotic in their tendencies, and
for that reason the very best kind of
food. Anyone wjio eats a late supper
and imagines that he will not be able
to sleep had better order a disb of fried
onions and close hts meal with them.
There will be no danger of wakeful
ness then.
The amount of opium in a saucerful
of fried onions will overpowor the
most sensitive digestive organs, evctf
when disturbed by a late meal, and
one can sleep just as well as thouf h ho
meal had been eaten. The Chines®
understand the onion better than the
other "nations of tho earth. A Chijja
man will mix dried onion sprigs with
tobacco and smoke them. They prob
ably find it lends additional charm to
a genial pipe and brings on that condi
tion of dreamy wakefulness which ia
the final end of all smoking.
CURIOUS GROWTH OF RATTAN.
Tough Wood of the Climbing Palm Tra*
Found In the Malayan Countrl**.
Everyone knows the pretty, light and
graceful chairs and other articles of
furniture made from rattan, but every
one does not know that the extremely
tough and flexible wood called rattan
is that of the climbing palm tree. This
curious climber, which is more of a
vine than a tree, is said by the Phila
delphia Times to be one of the singular
characteristics of forest growth in the
Celebes and other Malayan countries.
Starting with a trunk a little thicker
than a man's arm, it winds through
the forest, now wrapping a tall tree in
its fold, like some gigantic snake, and
then descending again to the earth
and trailing along in snakelike curves
until it can find some other stately
tree to fasten and climb upon in ita
pursuit of light and air. The forest
is so thick and jungle-like that It
seems impossible to follow the course
of any of these serpent climbers, but
there Is little doubt that at the last the
successful aspirant, which stooped and
cringed so long below, will be found
shooting- up like a flagstaff a dozen
feet or more above the tree which has
helped it to rise. A use of rattan
which is unknown to those who have
not seen it in its native forest is as a
water carrier. The thirsty traveler
has at all times a tumbler o' cool, re
freshing water at hts command by cut
ting- off six or eight feet of rattan and
putting one of the severed ends to his
mouth or holding it over a dish to
catch the water.
NOT A MODERN INVENTION.
Tho Bicycle Said to Have I teen First l/»*d
by a Young Frenrh l'hysiclan In 1066.
"The popular belief is that the bi
cycle is a modern invention, when in
fact it really dates back to the seven
teenth century," said I)r. T. C. Minor,
according to the Cincinnati Star, "t
learned this one day when I was mak
ing some translations from the Jour
nal de Medicine de Paris. Ozaram, in
1094, in his 'Mathematical and Physical
Recreations,' tells of a carriage, as he
calls it, 'in which one can ride without
the use of horses.' And then he goes
on to tell of how a lackey sits at the
back, makes it run by 'walking alter
nately with his two feet by means of
two small wheels concealed In a case
just between the wheels behind and
attached to the axle of the carriage.'
This was the principle of the veloci
pede, so much improved since then.
But the priority of the discovery of
the bicycle I believe to be established
without further argument or dispute.
It was by a physician, Eli Richard, a
young physician of Roche lie, France,
who made the first machine after
which our modern bicycle Is pat»
terned. He was a medical student in
Paris in 1066, and became one of the
great physicians of France. He died
St the age of sixty-one at Rochelle in
1700, and there is a street in Rochelle
named for him, and there is now a
movement on foot to erect a bronze
statue, not to Michaud, who it fa
claimed was the discoverer of the bicy
cle, but to the true discoverer. Dr. Eli
Richard."
The Cause of Earthquakes.
Earthquakes are due to the phenom
ena of plication or folding of the
earth's upper strata. The same ten
sion and compression which produced
many of the mountain ranges is hero
in action. As the interior of the earth
cools it contracts and tends to lcava
the outer crust behind. The weight
of this outer crust, however, is greater
than it can sustain, and is therefore
compelled to wrinkle. Thus geologists
explain the great ridges and furrows
which constitute continents and river
basins and they compare this folding
of the earth's crust with the wrinkling
of the skin of a dried apple. While
the process of wrinkling or folding Is
going on the mighty movement, of
course, destroys the equilibrium of the
rock strata, and in consequence earth
quakes occur and continue with
greater or less violence until the equi
librium is again restored.
Ko Competition.
"You say you have no competition in
this line," said the traveling agent to
the merchant
"That's what I said."
"But there are two other men selling
these goods here."
"I know it. But neither of them ad
vertises." —Washington Star.
It Depended.
With a view to giving a perform
aßce in the evening the manager ol
the traveling dramatic eompany was
inspecting the building called by the
enterprising Arizona proprietor an
opera house.
"Yes, it's large enough," he said,
"and the lighting arrangements seem
to be about right, but it hasn't exits
enough. In case of a sudden alarm
there would bo a crush. Did you ever
try to find out how long it takes to
empty the haU?"
"You bet I have!" aaswered the pro
prietor. "A dog fight on the outside
will empty the buildin' in twenty
seven seconds by the watch." —Chicago
Tribune.
Where tlic Good* Went.
Mrs. Kerstylc—l gave you more ma
terial to make this dress than T ever
used in a garment before and the skirt
is hardly full enough to fit a chnrn.
How does that happen?
Dressmaker (shrugging her shoul
dors) —Madame inseestcd on having* zc
sleeves in ze height of ze fashontt—
Demorcst's Magazine.
YARDS FOR CHICKS.
The Oakland Murablr Kan and How It
la Coaatrartcd.
When chicks arc just placed in a
brooder or under a hen some handy
yard is wanted to confine them, and
with this end In vieiv I give cuts and
description of a panel used in our yards.
Fig. 1 shows the panel. This should be
constructed of boards and pickets.
Procure fence boards 0 inches wMe and
P —D □
\v/ \ ■ I
r /
U // .
u li
ns. i.
either 12 or 16 feet long, and saw
lengthwise through the center; this
will give two long strips 3 inches wide,
to be used for the top and bottom
frame. Next procure 3 pickets 4 feet
long and nail one at each end and the
other in the center, then attach braces
at opposite corners as shown in the cut.
The pickets should be nailed so as to
project 1 inch above the top of the
frame and 11 Inches below, these to be
3 .n. ....... .T
j u C
FIO. 2.
sharpened so as to be readily driven
Into the ground.
Fig. \ shows a panel completed. The
frame is covered with five-cent muslin
stretched tightly over the frame and
well tacked down with common tacks.
A pen made from four of these will be
16 feet square and is room enough for
100 chicks for one or two weeks, when
they can be allowed to roam where
they please. We use these pens to
place around the brooders, so as to pre
vent the young chicks straying too far
from their home. These frames can be
built for 2.1 cents, and will last several
years with proper care.
Fig. 3 shows an excellent plan for a
roost. A represents the roost, which
can be any length desired. D D
arc staples to attach the wires C to
and should be well driven into the
roost. C is the wire supports cut to
yi ft \b fit
A c A jc
\i d <v
FIO. 3.
any length, so as to have the roodt sus
pended about 10 inches above the drop
ping board. It are the hooks cjn the
ends of the wires to fasten into staple*
to support the roost. The staples where
B is attached should be about 12 inohes
apart, which will prevent the roost
from swinging. The roots are easily
kept free from lice, as there are no
mortices to lay eggs in and thus escape
fumigating. Also the roost can De
easily detached, by unhooking at B and
removed from the building and cleaned.
Kerosene oil should be applied to the
roosts once every week, also they
should be taken out and saturated with
oil, and then set lire to; this will de
stroy all vei.nin.—Ohio Farmer.
DOUBLE-BOARD COOP.
Dow to Make One Suitable for Two
liroods of Clilcks.
A reader sends us a plan of a double
board coop, for two broods of chicks.
The coop is four feet square, the back
being eighteen inches high, and the
highest point (center) being twenty
four inches. It slopes in front 'rom
ohe foot high at the center to two
inches. In the illustration, Ais a sash,
fastened with hinges to the front of
the coop (B). the sash being raised or
lowered as desired. This sash may be
DOUBLE-BOABD COOP FOR OHICKS.
made of wire cloth of about seven
eighths-inch mesh, to allow warmth,
air and light to enter, and also to allow
of arranging a center board between
the two broods. The frame of the coop
is fastened to the floor with hingee at
the back part, so as to allow of raising
it at the back also, if desired. No glass
should be used iu the sash. If the
weather is severe, cover the sash with
boards or tarred paper. C and D show
the upper and lower sides of the coop,
and E the two-incli board in front
The coop protects against rats, cats,
hawks, etc.—Farm and Fireside.
Save tl»e Feed.
Bear in mind that this is the summer
season and that the hens are not com
pelled to combat the snow and cold of
winter. They do not require food to
warm their bodies to the point of re
sistance to cold, and the food that was
converted into animal heat in winter
is easily saved now. The hens do not
require muih aid from their owners at
this season, and if they are fed heavily
the food will be lost if the liens have a
range. It is not only best to be sparing
of food, but it is also a matter of econo
my. —Farm and Fireside.
LETTUCE —have plenty of lettucf
grown for summer feeding to confined
poultry.
A Student of Human Nature.
Mr. Ilostleigh—But. my dear, you
lave ordered dinner for only thirty
persons, when fifty have accepted our
Invitation.
Mrs. Ilostleigh (with a look of pity)
—Edward, will you never learn? You
know our dining hall will only hold
thirty persons. Well, the twenty who
do not manage to get in at the first
table will think the fortunate thirty
were hogs and ate everything up.—
Puck.
The Angler.
With alia CO rod
and a tw reel.
With a £OO line
And a 4.00 creel:
A book full of £OO
And 4-00 flies,
4way with his 12.00 ticket he hies.
Thus he spends WJ.OO ere he starts out.
And returns in a
week with 10 worth of trout,
And the
Hut a blank won't supply
The thirty-nine ninety—the sujn he Is shy.
—San Francisco News Letter
Love's Young I>r»am
Young Man (gazing dreamily at the
candy case in fancy grocery store)—l
—l —wish to—to get something—some
thing real nice for a young lady, but I
hardly know what to select
Grocer (briskly)— Very young?
" 'Bout seventeen."
"Still going to boarding school?"
"Yes, sir."
"John, show this gentleman the
fickle counter."— fciftjngs.
MO 32.
i
V-SHAPED SCRAPER.
A* Implement for M>kls( Drainage
Chemp and Easy.
Make a V-shaped Si-niper out of two
heavy plauks. aud on the lower ridge
of one bolt a straight piece of steel to
act like the land skle of a plow. On
the lower edge of the other bolt a steel
share, B. After having driven stakes
where the diteli is to be, cut a furrow
with a two-horse plow on either side
of them hut five feet from them. Have
the V-shaped scraper follow the plow
and shove the soil further out Let
the teams go down and back until the
center is reached, which results in a
deep, dead furrow.
Then let the plow begin this time
only three feet from the stakes, and re-
I' peat the process. When the trench is
finished it will be fifteen to twenty
feet wide, slipping easily to the center,
■ where it should be nearly three feet,
deep. Land laid off in this manner can
be easily seeded and surplus water will
flow away quickly without tearing the
soil. During summer mowers, reapers
and loads of hay can easily cross the
ditch without inconvenience. An open
ditch that has abrupt sides is not only
expensive to dig but expensive to keep
clear, as a frost throws down the
walls. Wide ditches carry away water
faster than dwp gullies, and always
without cutting away the soil. This is
just as true on rapid descent as on
ground that is nearly level. The
weight of running water is what does
the damage. Spread it out and the
danger will be overcome.—A. C. West
In Farm and Home.
FARM PHILOSOPHY.
SOMK men oomplain of hard times who
sleep themselves into poverty.
DOK'T complain of your wiful extrav
agance, with a cigar in your mouth.
DKHOBRINO is crnel, when it is done
with a club in the hands of an angry
man.
WHY don't these fellows who know
the short roads to success ever try
them?
THE woman who tells others how
does not always keep her own house the
tidiest
STAND around with your hands in
your pockets, and see how quick you
Will get rich.
THE commandment to rest one day iu
seven is just as binding on your horse
as it is on you.
IT will pay yon to practice the art of
love making upon your horses. The
more they love yon the better service
they will give. American Agricul
turist
CRATER FOR POTATOES.
A Great Saving of la Handling and
HUrlßf.
The cut with this article is a drawing
of a box or crate for handling potatoes
or apples. I have, used it for ten or
twelve years, and should not like to do
without it It holds one bushel even
full. Such boxes stand side by side
three in a wagon box and one upon an
other as high as one wishes. The top
> slats are raised a quarter of an inch
I CRATB FOB APPLES OB POTATOES^
, above the ends, so that the top box
will keep its position. A farmer pro
vided with fifty or one hundred of these
distributed in a potato field when dig
ging can fill and leave them standing
until he is ready to draw them, and will
find them a great saving of labor -in
handling, besides being very handy for
marketing or cellar storage.—A. F.
Clark, in Rural New Yorker.
Half Holidays for Farmers.
, Do you know any reason why a Sat
urday half holiday should not be en
joyed by the farmer and his family as
it is by the big business houses in the
cities? In the little towns of England
a weekly half holiday is given to all
who work in the "shops,'' stores. It is
not Saturday in all towns, but is the
same day each week. Wednesdays are
often used in this way. America is too
, pushing for her best good in some lines.
A let up now and then, once a week,
, say. will do much toward doing away
with the nervous unrest and final
breaking down of body and mind so
frequently met with nowadaya.—Farm,
Field and Fireside.
How to root Craw*.
To prevent crows from pulling up
corn I have tried the following for
three years, and it has saved me from
replanting when my neighbors had to
replant corn because it had been pulled
up by crows. A day or so before plant
ing pour some hot water over the seed
corn. While the corn is still hot turu
I in some oil of tar and mix well together
enough to make the corn sticky. Add
a little plaster to prevent it being
sticky. If too much plaster is not
s added the corn can be planted as well
i with a planter as with a hoe.—Farm,
Field and Fireside. _
Sweet Innocent*.
"Mamma, mamma, I know now why
I can't keep my hands clean ever."
Mamma —Why is it?
"Why, 'cause we're made of duett
teacher told us so." —Chicago Inter
Ocean.
What He Had Learned.
, Lady (entering shoe store) —1 would
like to look at some number twos.
New Boy (anxious to show his
knowledge)—Yes'm; most every one
looks at number twos first —Good
News.
Very Moving.
"Wasn't that a moving sermon on do
mestic charities by Dr. Monthly?"
"Yes, indeed. Old Skynfivnt actually
dropped a tear in a plate."—Harvard
LamDooji.
Desperation.
Wild-Eyed Man—l want some sooth
ing sirup, quickl
Druggist—What bottle?
r Wild-Eyed Man—Bottle! I want •
k«g It's twins!—N. Y. Weekly
Her Face Not Her Fortune.
, She-They say he married Miss
Wrinkles for her money. Ilaa she Tot
much?
; He -She must have lota of iv H*ve
you never seen her?— Life.
A Companion for Mctilnty.
Jones—l'm a near neighbor of yours,
now, Mrs. Golightly; I've taken a house
lon the river.
Mrs. G.—Oh! I hope you'll drop
in some da v. —Y ankaa