VOL. XXX. Grand Clearance Sale FOR The months of July And August, of Millinery, Dry Goods, Wraps, Notions, &c. Great est Bsirgains ever offered. MRS. JENNIE E. ZIHHERHAN, (Successor to Ritter & Ralston.) Butler, - - - Pa N. B:—We make this Sacrifice to make room for Fall Goods, many of ' 1/ which are already purchased. HUSELTON'S Summer Shoes Give Satisfaction! Oar stock of Summer Footwear Shoes for th« Workiogruan, the ia a mammoth one and *** Farmer, the Seaside, the comprises everything in From an Mouutaius, —Shoes for the Footwear line immense as- every time, place for young and old! sortmeDt, we ee- and occasion ! lect a few items for f special mention. Come in f : and Me these and otherp: : Men'a Fiaa Tan Calf Blucberi $3 to $5 Men'• and Boys'Tenni» Oxfords 50c Man's Fine Buff and Veal Cong's or Bais, tip or plain toe, at SI.OO. $1.25 end $1.50 Ilea'* Fine Calf Cong's, Bals and Bluchers $3.00, $2.50, *3.00 and $4.00 Men's Brofao* and Plow Shoes 70c. SI.OO and $1,1!5 Boys' Fine Dreußhoes SI.OO, $1.25 and $1.50' Ladies' While Cvnvas Oilords $1.40 Ladies White Opera Slippers *.....51.25 Ladies' Dongola pat. tip, heel and spring heel, button Boots, all solid $1.25 and $1.50 Ladies' Oilords, Heel and Spring Heel, Dongola, Tan, Tip, Opera and Philadelphia Toe 50c, 7bc, SI.OO, $1.3-1 and $2.00 Misses' I Dongola Oxfords, Patent Tip "5c and SI.OO Misses' Gennioe Ooat Tan Oxfords, 11 to 2 SI.OO Misses' Bad Ooat Oxfords, 11 to 2 SI.OO Children's Tan Button Spring Heel, 8 to 11 90c Children'* Bed and Tan Oxfords, 8 to 11 J sc Children's Dongtla Oxfords, 6 to 8 50c These are all solid with insoles; will wear better Shan cheap turns, which will always rip from sole: Daring this hot weather why not com* ia and gat a pair of our cool, cheap and make yourself comfortable ? Nothing like keeping your feat cool and your bead will ha cool. Won't cost much. Try it! B. C. HUSELTON. Ho, 102 North Main Street. - Butler, Fa. Special to the Trade. 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 on sale a large lot of Men's, La dies', Boy's, Misses' and Children's Shoes and Oxfords to fit and suit all and at extremely low prices. Bargain seekers should not let this 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 stock of La dies' Russia Calf Bluchers, common sense or piccadilly style, at $2.00 to $3.50, all styles and widths. 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 Tics at $ 1 .50. Full stock of Men's Dongola and Wine Color Creole shoes a't $1.50. Men's Patent Leather Shoes at $3.50. Men's Patent Leather Pomps at $1.25. Our stock of Men's Fine Shoes is large and prices very low. Men's Calf Shoes $1.50, any style. Men's Kangaroo shoes $2.50; hand-sewed Cordovans $4. AND MANY OTHER BARGAINS. At all times a full stock of our own make box-toe boots and shoes. BOOTS AID SHOES MADE TO ORDER. REPAIRING NEATLY DONE. Orders by mail will receive prompt attention. When in need of anything in my line give me a call. JOHN BICKE^L. 128 SOUTH MAIN STREET, BUTLER, PENN'A. Jewelry, Clocks, Silvefwafe, 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. Main St., Duffy Block. Sign of Electric Bell and Clock. All are Respectfully Invited —"Remember our Repairing Department— 20 years Experience."— THE BUTLER CITIZEN. ■THE KIND P 1 THAT CURES P i f.« A - .dr | m B3 M!!-. FUIVI'A iIAMS, ■ j IA Victory Over Disease !i ! 3B fas M Terrible Pain in Head and g) Stomach!" » IS "Mv Face vras 011 c Mast o! _ §1 Eruptions!" H BE "Walked tiic rioor Js-ight gjj ■ • After Night!" rg \ ruriowias from Mr®. r-cvoslS t »j C ;vOND^2FI f L rOWEB c-t DXZIA'Z ; | ■j over discue. j^j ~ GTNTL. .irs -I c.i 54 ■ • '-2 as! • 1 M «•:»*! C3B S ."%« t> .«l »«««»>• • •■■■>■*£ 1 1 M imtzt.i: ' .is i v *J * gg • . vc? Kprllcd to u; iK »!.f |=terrll»lc p:n»». 1 f**-" * "* fig with »ra» - J 1 - Jy ' : S9l *oulil try • ! f §& , K DANA'S S iSABSAPAItXLLA m ■ethough i I.u i tri-'i »! riiiav ■ * ;:_ r: 1 MB wuhfut any h.'ip. I li*l !*■: fu'th. 1- ' ip.i | |phad takin i»nr l»ottl«* I f*-t a gr<*s*t ■ better. I have now Uk«n two, u • j f-.vl like the «m* woman. I can -to !•• 1 * =SLEEP AI L M«H r * '■" ter-W ■ ril»l<> puln haa dcpartei!. 1h • : PTfV-elins Ilad i * iitlrely *«•»»•- •* gtecebwell. fflrurc me rntireh Yonr* ™ Tienndcroga. X. V MRS FRIXDA lIAM- Jg ■ To whom It n-.'iy hi*r> <• - .f> the trnii ot the »!x>»e. P. W. ftARUY. m Ticuadcroga, N. Y. I'aar! sS ■ Dana Sarsaparllla Co., Belfast. Maine. J§ feed. For prices and terms Ad drets, J. W. MILLER, 131 Mtrcer St., Butler' P». SPRING STYLES READY. YOU WILL CERTAINLY HAVE A SUIT ADE TO ATTEND THE WORLD'S FAIR. YOU CAN AF FORD IT, WHEN YOU SEE THE SPLEN DID ASSORT ENT OF ATERIAL, AND THE MOD ERATE PRICE AT WHICH \\i: MAKE YOU A SUIT THAT IS CORRECT TO THE LATEST D;E CR E E o F FASH iO N. -.-ia... Alartd'a, Tailoring Establishment. ~~a & D. ALWAYS Take iDto coDßiderati'in that money saved is as >?ood as money earned. The be&t way to gave money is to buy good goods at the right price. The only reasou that our trade is increasing constantly is ihe fact that we handle only goods of Grst quality and sell them at very low prices. We have taken unusual care to provide everything new in Hats and Furuisbing Goods for this season, and as wo have control of many especially good articles ia both lines we can do you good if you come to us. We confidently say that in justice to themselves all purchasers should inspect onr goods. Visit UP. COLBERT & DALE, 242 S Main street, Butler, Pa, 3ST OIT I C; TS ! Yjry . THE WELL- W Dlfi 7 V V | , J I Mi praj)hbr;lormprly XX \J 1 tLi I the Ikm'l of the •' Werlz-Hard 111 a n Art Co., will open a Studio and Photo Par lors opposite the Hotel Lowry, Cor, Main and Jefferson Sts , Hutlcr, Pa. Thii will her the best lighted and equipped Studio and galleries in the the county. The work will ho strictly (irst class and made nader new formulas by the artist himself, who has had 15 years practical experience in large cities. Portraits in Oil, Crayon, Sepia. Pastel, <to. In this line we have no competition, Our portraits are made by hand in our own Studio, from sittings or from photos Our work has reached the highest standard of excellence and is not to be compared with the cheap ma chine made pictures furnished by otherp. Wait for us; get your pictures from us and be happy. WITH A KISS. OmotliJTf. so weary, discountM, Worn out with the tolls of th 4 dij, You often grow cross »nJ Impatient Complain of the noise and the plat; For the day brings so many vexation*, So many things going amiss, BV, mothers, whatever may vex you, Send the children to bed with a kUi. The dear little Xoet wander often Perhaps from the pathway of nght; The dear litUe hands find new mischiof To try you from morning til! night; But think of the desolate mothers Who'd give all the world for your bliss, ; And, as thanks for your infinite blessing!. Send the children to bed with a kiss. For some day the noise wtil not vex you. The silence will hurt you far more, You will long for the sweet, childish voices, 1 For a sweet, childish face at the door: j And to press a child's face to your bosom. You'd give all the world just for this, For the comfort'twill bring In your sorrow. Send the cuU-irsn to bed with a k:s3. —Florence A. Jones, in Housekeeper. I HARD, toilful I J </-U winter was gone. The raw winds went whirling j out to sea as the spring advanced, and the flower beds around Peter Greg's forlorn cottage showed red and yellow, ' like the plumage of some brilliant bird dropped oqtside a forsaken nest. Within ; cobwebs hur.g from the rafters like | raid-air shadows, and the furniture seemed to have taken root through a 1 thin soil of dust. A clock on the man' tel sholf had long ago run itself down, adfling another dumb face to the long Vow of dolls beside it A child's faded tlress hung 6n a peg; near by a little chair held a half-darned sock in which thimble and 6cissors, long undisturbed, had rusted. The child was gone. The only tenant of the room on this June morning was the shadow of Greg as he stood in the doorway. Me was a &hatte»ed old man—onco vigorous, now wrecked and thrown upoji the shore, disabled, and past re pair. lie raised his hand to bis eyea and lo«ked out to sea. Before him stretched the sand-pit where the boats were moored. Shoreward, in a brown rent of tl»e hills, lay the village, with ' its patchwork of roofs, squares of shadow, and shining angles, its motley juts of chimneys sending up everywhere little vapory blurs, and its lance-like church-spire, gleaming now, a point of light against the sky. The villagers could be seen trudging to church, and the clanging of the bell sounded mellow on the wind. At the sound, Greg left the house, climbed into a dory, and fell to splicing nets. "H'm!" be muttered, "ye don't catch nie a-foolin' and lazin' 'round o' Sun day, Uke work was a curse instead of a blesstn", and warn't fit to be done on the Lord's day." Presently he was accosted by a ftranger, whom he had noticed wander ing About the beach. "A fine morning, sir; breeze land ward Blows the fish in, does it not? A pity it's Sunday." ''Sunday or no Sunday, I throws in when I pleases," Greg answered, sul lenly. "Then, perhaps, I can engage you to row me down {0 the Glades," said the young man. "I've been trying to find some one who was not going to church. Pious community, isn't it?" "Well, they mostly is, except me; though I thank the Lord I ain't too pious to do a friendly turn o' Sundays. Jump in. I was thinkin' o' droppin' down to that rocky p'int below, that's where I spends my Sundays. It's allers Sunday to roe whenever I goes tbere." "Good fishing grounds, en?" asked the other, as they pushed off. Greg frowned. "Naw, I never fish there. Ye kin veer on to another track, sir, if ye don't want to rile me;" and then, after a pause, and speaking half to him self, "it was on them rocks I seen her last." "Whom?" the young man asked with pardonable interest. Greg fastened the halyard, folded his arms, and looked out over the water. "She was my darter, sir; the pretti est, likeliest leetle 'un that ever drawed emo LMKtOt't (IVKB THE WATER. breath. Bbe was drowned, without mercy, without warn in'." The stranger looked at him keenly. "Will you tell me about it?" he asked. "Believe me, I do not ask from idle curi osity." The toee was respectful, kind. Greg had resisted sympathy, for it came from unsuffering friends, who were troubled more for the condition of his soul than of his heart; but this genuine pity touched him, and he was moved to speak. "She was all the world to me after 'er mother died. I kin remember now them soft eyes o' hern—leetle bits o' blue sky. Every mornin' at sunup she was a-stirrin' and singin' about the house. Ye'd 'a' thought she lived per petual in the hollow o' the Almighty's hand. Of evenin's, she'd set on the doorstep and sing 'er hymns. Oh, them hymns, them hymns!—how they'd come a-driftin' acrost the water to me. There warn't no music o' this earth like 'er voice. I believed in Heaven every time 1 heerd it. "One o' them hymns she loved more'o all the rest. It was: 'Pass me not, 0 gentle Saviour.' Every evenin' I could hear it a long ways off I was a-coo»- in' home, and she &ettin' on the rocks waitin' fur me. She sung it like she learned it in Heaven. But when the Lord found me on the lowermas' rounds, a-strugglin' to mount, Tie flung down the ladder. I left Him then and there. "This day ten year ago my Alice was drowned. I bid 'er good-by in the mornin', and she jest as lively as a sea bird dippin' over the waves. Long after I'd gone too fur to see 'er wavin' 'er hands, I could hear that hymn-chune a reaching out to me: •Pass me not, O gentle Saviour.' I listened till it grew to a fine thread o' sound. It was the last I ever heard o' my child's voice. When I come back that evenin' she was gone. Oh! Go(}!— "After a bit her boat was washed ashore. I drawed it home; 'twas all I'd left of her. I put it in her gyarden, and I filled it full o' earth and planted 'er name in flowers—them white kipd that never dies. It's all the grave she has. I've kept it growin' fresh and j BUTLER, I'A., K1U1) AY. J I' LY 21, 1803. green. * The halting voice sank lower, then ceased altogether. There was some thing in the story, something infinitely appealing in the stricken old man liimy self, that afflicted the other strangely. The boat touched the shore and the young man leaped out. Turning and scrutinizing the bowed face, he said: "Is your name Greg?'' The old man looked up, surprised. "Xever mind," the other answered, | moving nearer and laying his hand on 1 Greg's arm. "If I come back to yon i this evening—if I have it in my power i i to do you good—so much (food —will you ; j go home now and wait for me?'' Greg shook his head. "I'm past the help o* your money, sir, thanks to ye." I "No one is the help of the Lord," said his companion. "I'll count on your boii" there. Here's for your trouble. . i liood-by." Greg saw him gain the station, and i -watched the train arrive and disappear ; as he tacked homeward. The revival of i liis grief overwhelmed him anew, and he felt a sudden prescient dread of him self. lie looked back over his life. Year after year had found him more 4esolate. He had drifted beyond his depth in the seas of doubt, then strug gled to get back; but the way was lost, and he was vageuly conscious he was waiting for the divine hand to be stretched out to him across the waters. But now he felt only the cruelty of his fate, and a frenzied resolve Seized him. Leaning over the railing, he peered ( down into the gurgling, deep-voiced j water. Then he raised himself, half crouching. half-preparatory. His keen eye caught the downward sweep of a gull. A pleasure boat skimmed past him. and faded toaspeck in the euu-swept distance. He looked long toward his homo lying at the foot of the jagged, pine-edged cliffs, which Stood out against the cloud . in ;i solemn splendor of sky-lit heights, and he re membered how he hatl watched his hap pier days pass over them, beyond his teach. Once move he rose to leap over, nis hand was on the railing. He stopped— listened. It came again, a "fine thread o' sound." lie sat down. There was plenty of time. Again the breeae brought it fuller, and he caught the sound of a hymn. lie shipped oars and rowed nearer the shore. Now it swelled clearly, and the words: " Pass me not, O gentle Saviour," reached out to him across the water. He drew to shore and walked to the church in the village, seating himself on a bench outside. A woman, coming out with an unruly child, said to him, sharply, that the inside was better for such as he. lie felt ashamed. What Weakness had brought him there after all his avowed resistance to religion? He would go away. A young girl called him back. She had seen him, for her bench was near. She took his knotty hand as if to lead him, saying: "Won't ye come in? There's plenty o' room on mj' bench." Her ingenuous anxiety to help him touched the old man. "Well, look here," he burst out. "I'll do anything ye like, if ye'll ask 'en to sing that there hymn again;" and he Buffered himself to be led in. To the worshipers it was as if one had come to them from the dead. He felt the sting of their amazement, and was half-minded to rush out and plunge headlong from the rocks. The words of e text held him: "I will heal their backsliding; I will love them free ly, for Mine anger is turned away." And again: "Fear not, for I have re deemed thee; I have called thee by name; thou art Mine." They fell into his heart like grain into a plowed field, plowed deeply and harrowed for the Sowing. At last he sank to his knees. When the people were gone the sexton closed the windows and doors, leaving him kneeling, unobserved and alone. A solemn peace held the place. Only the rattle of a dead vine against the pane and the groaning of the ocean reminded him of the world outside. Then the weary old man fell into a Jeep sleep. fie was on the ocean, drifting, drifting, drifting. It was night, and far horizonward a star was shining that seemed to throw out a flittering chain of light and draw his boat thither. Shadowy forms rose from the deep to drag him down; he felt their clutch, but he held the chain until he reached the star. Then, in what had been a star, he saw the face Df a woman, radiant with light. lie looked, and it was the face of his wife, [n her arms she held a child, who stretched out its hands towards him. Somewhere a door opened; he was vaguely conscious of a sound, yet the syes held him spell-bound and the lips noved as if to speak He listened. ''Father!" said a gentle voice, and a band rested on his head. His heart leaped. The vision spoke, and he held hi* breath to hear. "Father! dear father!" said the voice. "Open your eyes. It's Alice—your own Alice." Slowly the dream faded. Back again came the growing twilight and the still ness of tlie church. There were arms about his neck; a face was near his own. He saw her eyes, the very "bits o' blue sky," bright fragments in his memory. "Father, dear, don't you know me? I'm Alice—your own lost Alice." Starting up ho locked wildly about him. "AJlie, my loctle Allie!" he gasped. "Naw, naw, the sea never gi'es up its dead!'' He sank down, overwhelmed, and a great sigh struggled through his frame, as he gazed upon her like one bereft of reason. She bent beside him, with her li«,id on his breast. "Father," she filtered, "it is I—it is your own Allie. They told me you were dead, long, long ago, q,nd would not bring me back to you. Have you suf fered, de»r father? Have you grown feeble waiting? Did you never know that I saved? They were kind to me, father, but their kindness wasn't yours. We were looking for your grave; and, oh! can it be that we've found you?" Somo one else was near—some one spoke; and his young friend of the morning took his limp hand reassur ingly. "Ye, too?" faltered the old man, con fusedly. "Ye brung 'er batfk to me?" "Yes, from England, from the good people who picked her up at sea." There was silence. Even the gather ing shadows in the little church seemed "IT'S ALICE, YOUR OWN ALICE." to pause to adjust themselves anew to the rising moonlight outside. "My leetle A^' e '" °'d man said, at length, lifting her face to his. She folded her arms about him. "The good God has brought me back to you, here, in your arms again, to take care j ©f you —oh, such loving care. Shall we go how to the dear old home?" and she picked m> Ms battered hat. "Before wo go," he stud, huskily, ' "jing that old hymn chune ye used tp ! like so well." Then, in a clear, sweet voice, she be gan: ' Pass me not, 0 gentle Saviour, Hear my humble cry; While on others Thou art calling. Do not pass me by." The hymn filled the little cHurch like a heavenly presence. His head sank lower on his breast. A fitful breeze wandered in, spirit-like, and then took flight. The music ceased. A light sprang in to the sky from the rocky ledge outside the harbor and gleamed across the in , tervening sea—the gleam of the watch ful lighthouse eye shining for belated boats. Should you visit Houghton place, in i beautiful Kent, you may see, if the day be fair, seated under the spreading oaks of the park, a white-haired old man, feeble, but with a look of happy | contentment, smoking his short pipe, and mayhap whittling a trim model of a ship to the wonder and deiiglit of a little flaxen-curled Allie and a rosy -1 cheeked John, seated at either side, ! singing in their sweet childish voices: Pass me not, O gentle Saviour," and tii' - - Id man adds, reverently: "For of uch is the kingdom of Heaven."— Demurest's Magazine. BLOWING A SAFE. Three Burglars Succeed Beyond Their Wildest Anticipations. "I met a thief one day," said Andy j ! Rohan, at the St. Louis Convention of J chiefs of police, "whom I had not seen j for a long time. I asked him what had j become of his partner. " 'Oh, the last I saw of him was an ] arm,' replied the thief. " 'What do you mean?' I asked. " 'Well, it was just this way. Three j of us went down to a little town in Ohio to work a hardware store. The old mau who owned it was the banker ! for a'.l the people in the village, and vre expected to a good haul. But, alas! we mot with a »ad disappointment. ; We broke into the store and found a ghost all right.' "A ghost means a safe in thieves' par lance," explained Rohan. " 'We found a ghost,' continued the thief, 'and the boys went to work to blow it open with powder. Luckily for me, I was piping off on the outside while my two pals did the inside work. They lighted the fuse and stepped away about five feet behind a partition. The explosion that occurred blew the whole buikling down, and all that was ever found of my pal was an arm.' " 'What was the trouble?' " 'Well, the old fellow who owned the store was very stingy. lie sold dynamite, and in order to escape high insurance rates put it in his safe. My poor pal! It's too bad!" —St. Louis Globe-Democrat. —Explaining Kinship.—Curly Cuero— "Yes, sir-ree! Jake Ilogwallow was about the meanest skunk we ever had in Texas, barring his cousin once re moved." Jim Waco—"What do you tnean by 'his cousin once removed?'" Curly Cuero—"Taken out of jail and strung up for liorse-stealing."—Judge. —The lean pig is the one that squeals the most. Let the faultfinder make a note.—Kam's liorn. THE CITY OF TANGIER. Interesting Scenes In a Sea Coast Town of Morocco. Tangier's beauty lies in so many dif ferent things—in the inonklike garb of the men and in the white muffled fig ures of the women, in the brilliancy of its sky, and of the sea dashing upon the rocks and tossing the feluccas with their three-cornered sails from side to side; and in the green towers of the mosques, and the listless leaves of the royal palms rising from the center of a mass of white roofs; and, above all, in the color and movement of the bazars and streets. The streets represent ab solute equality. They are at the widest but three yards across, and ev ery one pushes, and apparently every one lias something to sell, or at least something to say, for they all talk and shout at once anil cry at their donkeys or aVuso whoever touches them. A wateivcarrier, says Harper's Weekly, with his goatskin bag on his back and his finger on the tube through which the water lumps, iostles you on one side, and a slave as back and shiny as a patent-leather boot shoves you on the other as he makes way for his mas ter on a fine white Arabian horse with brilliant trappings and a huge eon tempt for the donkeys in his way. It is worth going to Tangier if for no other reason than to see a slave, and to grasp the fact that he costs any where from one hundred to five hun dred dollars. To the older generation this may not seem worth while, but to tho present generation —those of it who were born after Richmond was taken —it is a new and momentous sen sation to look at a man as fine and stalwart and human as one of your own people, and feel that he cannot strike for higher wages, or even serve as a parlor-ear porter or own a barber shop, but must work out for life the two huedred dollars his owner paid for him at Fez. MOORISH WOMEN. Something t'ooceruing the Yellc<l Beauties of Northern Africa. There Is something continually teresting in the muffled figures rtt Moorish women, says a writer in Harper's Weekly. They make you almost ashamed of the uncovered faces of the American women in the town; I and, in the lack of any evidenco to the ] contrary, you begin to believe every 1 Moorish woman or girl you meet Is as [ beautiful as her eyes would make it appear that is. Those of the Moor- j iah girls whose faces I saw were dis- j tinctlj" handsome; they were the worn- 1 en Benjamin Constant paints in his 1 pictures of Algiers, and about whom Pierre Lottl goes into ecstasies in his book on Tangier. Their robe or Cloak, or whatever the thing is that they affect, covers the head like a hood, and with one hand they hold one of its folds in front of the face as high as their eyes. The only times that I ever saw the face of any of them was when I occasionally eluded Ma hamed and rau off with a little guide called laaac, the especial protector of two American women, who farmed him out to me when they preferred to remain in the hotel. He is a particu larly bcaatiful yyuth, and I noticed that whenever he was with me tho cloaks of the women hail a fashion of coming undone, and they would lower them for an instant and look at Isaac, and then replace them severely upon the bridge of the nose. Then Isaac would turn toward me with a shy conscious smile and blush violently. Isaac says that the young men of Tangiers ean tell whether or not a girl is pretty by looking at her feet. It is true that their feet are baro, but it struck me as beini,' a somewhat reckless test for se lecting a bride. Only Thirty Years Ago. Liberal thinkers in the churches are having a much plaasanter time now than In the time of Dishop Colcnsothir ty years ago. After the bishop pub lished his book showing that certain statements and figures in the Penta teuch were untrue, he found himself almost universally ostracized. Men and women whom he had known inti mately fri mi childhood refused to speak to him. And so general was the detes tation of him that his laundress in Lon don refused any longer to wash his clothes, because she lost customers by coming into such close contact with dim. A TEXAS WONDER. All Important Discovery Kecontly Made 111 Wise County. A Prehistoric rarrmcnt of IVtrlllrd Wood Supposed to lUve llcvn Constructed by Moaml liuildcr* of an Kx tlnvt )U< r. A discovery of probably great ar ehteological value, as regards the pre historic people of the United States, was recently made on the farm of 11. Richwalls. twenty-five miles southwest of Decatur, in Wise county, Tex. It consists of a pavement of petrified wood covering the summit of a mound 5r.0 and a half acres in area. Samples of the pavement were brought to the News by D. M. Garvin, of Cleve land. 0., who made the following statement regarding the discovery: "The mound is sixty feet high, square shaped and with sloping sides. It was looked upon as an ordinary clay struc ture until a short time ago, when, in digging the soil on the summit, wlych is level and measures an acre and a half, a petrified pavement was struck under what appeared to be a shallow deposit of drift. Further explorations showed that the entire summit of the mound was paved. The petrified blocks were laid on ends as compactly as a Nicholson pavement. Iu places the pavement is perfectly smooth, while in other places, owing to the depression that the soil has undergone during tlje ages, it is irregular. The mound, which was constructed with mathemat ical precision, also contains tome blocks of stone tlint seem to have been used in a building." The samples of tlic pavement are four inches long, and undoubtedly are petrified wood. Throo inches of their length is silica and the remaining inch, to the wearing surface, is carbonate of lime. This combination, which is not uncom mon iu petrification*, shows that the pavement was probably set in silicious saud and that the upper part was sub jected to the action of water contain ing lime in solution. The blocks give evidence of having been split by a sharp instrument and sawed at the up per surface. While thou«ands of mounds have been discovered on this continent this is the onlv one in which, through the agency of petrification, nature has emlialmed an evidence of a place in civilization occupiecf by the mound builders fa* in advance of what had l*en accorded them by anti quarians. That this mysterious race practiced the arts of agriculture is proved by the fact that mounds are so close together in some districts as to have sonde it impossible for their occupants to have subsisted by fishing and hunting; and that those inhabitants engaged in min ing and commerce is proved by the dis covert- in Peruvian mounds of Lake Superior copper. Hut although copper chisels, rimmcrs and indented knives (that might have been used as saws) have been found in mounds, there never was any proof that the mound builders were wood workers until this discovery in Wise county. Wood being an article that tiate destroys, all its ev idences of the homo life of the mound builders must necessarily have long since been obliterated, except where preserved by the agency of petrifica tion. While this agency in the Wise county mound has only preserved a beautiful pavement, it may be inferred that a people hufticiently advanced to execute a work that in reoent years has immortalised Nicholson in the an nals of street engineering were capa ble of raising handsome wooden tem ples and other structures. That tbay were not of the same race as the Indi ans appears from tl»e fact that the lat ter have no tradiW*»n concerning the origin of mounds, and were they the original mound builders, though their civilization subsequently perished, they could not have lost track of such an important part of the history of their race. Certain it is now that the mound builders who once thickly inhabited this country were agriculturists, me chanics and traders, but to find whence caine they and whither they went one gropes in the darkness of the past. Did their occupation extend back to that period between the dawn of mail's creation and the Noaclian delug,-? Re mains of man have been found in this country that point to antediluvian an tiquity. A piece of basket matting wa . found in an island in Vermillion boy .Louisiana, below the remains of an elephant; tke remains of a masto don, partly wasted, were found in Mis souri, and in excavating for gas works in New Orleans a human skeleton was found bslow the remains of four cypress forests, the accumulation, in the opinion of scientists, requiring fourteen thousand years to form. The geological age in which the pavement on the mound in Wise county petrified is a live subject of inquiry and doubt less will be disputed. Was it during the period in which a great chain of lakes extended from the Gulf of Mex ico northward, or when was it? It was Horace Greeley who undertook to write up a mound for his paper, hut after all he could tell about it was con tained in the words: "It is here." He had not seen the Wise eounty mound. Very Formal. The etiquette maintained by the lord lieutenant of Ireland in tke vice regal court is illustrated by an incident de scribed by a recent interviewer. The writer was seated in the drawing-room of Dublin castle, when the door sud denly opened, and a tall, singularly handsome, well-groomed young man in morning-dress entered the room. Upon his appearance, Hon. Mrs. Hen niker and her sister, Lady Fitzgerald, and the remaining ladies and gentle men present rose to their feet, for this was his excellency the viceroy of Ire land. Not only do Mrs. Ilenniker and Lady Fitzgerald always rise upon their brother's entrance into the room, but it is further their custom, as it is the bounden duty of every lady, to courtesy to him profoundly on leaving the lunch eon or dinner-table. An Ideal I. lie. Syins—Ah, my boy, you are to be en vied. An artist's life is an ideal one. The affairs of everyday life do not en gross you. Daubre (whose pictures do not sell) —Not a bit. Why, we sometimes en tirely overlook such prosaic matters w breakfast and dinner. —N. Y. Herald Ills Compromise. Ned—So she said she would be a sis ter to you? Jack—Yes. Ned—What did you say to that? .Tack —I told her we would compro mise and call it "aunt" —I was .too young to bo her brother.—Vogue. A Clever Fhyilclftn. "Cadiey yawned awfully while Dr. liicks was telling that story last night." "I know, but the doctor got evcu with him. Sent Cad a bill for inspect ing his throat."—Harper's Bazar. lion Ton. Mrs. Hicks—Why won't you go to Dr. Tabernacle's church, dear? Hicks—l don't care to associate with that kind of people. The last time I went he told them they were all poor, miserable sinners.—Truth. Ills l imit. Clerk —llow long will you be here, sir? Guest—What are your rates? ( lerk—Fifteen dollars a day. Guest—About five minutes. —N. Y. Herald. i \* v . TO MAKE HENS LAY. A Fih Simple Kul -» fj: tactilug to 4 Kwy Iliß It is one tiling t<> !: .•>> eggs. but it i« much harder t<> get them. At least sn it tivil to seem to me till 1 learned the secret. It is easy enough to make hens lay. • uee you know how. Here is the rule. A little soft food, hot for breakfast, as e.irlv ;;s you cjin get about it, for hous are early risers and want their breakfast the tirst thing. For dinner, wheat, barley, oats or buckwheat. Scatter where they may so rumble for it, and if th.-y have to scratch half the afternoon to make sum that they have not overlooked a single kernel, so much the better. And a dash of corn, hot in cold weather, to go to roost on. They should not be overfed and must have clean water al ways near. If they can run at large in the sum mer. they will eat grass and get exer cise while scratching for worms. In winter, chop them all the cabbage and onion refuse, apple cores and even bits of potatoes. In fact, any green thing and a dash of cayenne pepper in the morning feed will stimulate lad ing. Plenty of dust for baths, {winded bones fi>r shell making and a 4ust of sulphur in the nests will make the hen* comfortable and insure esfgs. Now, having them, they are not h-\rd to preserve, liriojf them in fr«ali, sat in salt, small end down, fill the box. fasten the cover tight and turn tha bo* over, oii'-e in a week or so. Keep th:~ boxes in a cool dry place. The sot-ret of this is. that an egg will keep if the temperature is csol, and the continual turning keeps the yolk where it ought to be.—Home. MANAGEMENT OF BEES. How a New York Haii rak*>n Cure »f tIM Buhj Invert*. llees will leave their business any time to sting me, so I built a small house 4xo feet, using 1' 4 well-seasoned spruce flooring, sound and matcha.l for covering, and the sp_aie for the floor. Put a door In one cn<. a-'id •; feet from the door a partition tiieroof dowr. K—! n»f* -■ ! I rr • * * • —i • Half way from the roof have another floor, making an upper and lower room. I bought two swarms of bees; put ono in each room. For the upper room I cut h .les through the sides for the bees to pass through at the end of the building ami for the lower room 1 have them at the sides. This was ten years ago. The swarm in the low»r room was a weak one arid lived only u year, but i'ic ot'ier* are there yet and hare n. v.r swarmed. When they git the hive full of honey they build on I', .outsi le, covering the flit ! ■ }» fl r hive with honey, aud all 1 have to do is to break it o ft when wanted. Cut 1 shows the outside door open and the small entry of '2 feet Also two small door* through the partition, one for each room with in each so that you can look in and see the bee*. —New Yorker, in Farm and Home. THE POULTRY YARD. WiXTF.it greens for poultry, cheap and wholesome cabbages. Grow them yourself. A LONG, flat shank, a long lank frame; a short, rou nd shank, a plump, com pact Ijody. WHEN- chicks we high in prios old fowls are also in demand. There is probably no better time to sell surplus than now. WE do not advise heating water (by the sun) for fowl# in summer. It will be warm enough if pumped from the well every day and the water vessel set in the shade. THE chick that is strong, growthy, hardy and active from the shell onward, is the one to keep for breeding. Keep an eye on the broods and mark the l>est youngsters early. COLD weather weals up foul odors, warm weather sets them free. Hence the greater importance of absorbing them now by a free use of earth in the fowl houses and in the coops of the chicks. JuxE-HATCHKD chicks oome upon the scone just in season to harvest the In sect crop and glean the grain fields. Happy coincidence -for the chicks. Others may have their choice, but we have a liking for June-hatched pullets, especially of the small and medium sized breeds.— Farm Journal. Coaxing Swarmi to Ileuialu. Twenty years ago New York bee keepers coaxed absconding swarms to remain by this method, according to the American llee Journal: We would take broom handles and wrap rags on the large end, making a roll about ten inches iti length, and about three inches through the center, tapering off small er at the ends. The rags w« would saturate with melted beeswax. The other end of the handle is sharpened so as to stick in the ground. We used one handle for every four hives. Nearly every swarm that issues will cluster on some of these prepared sticks. The sticks should be stuck in the ground about four rods in front of the hives. The scent of the wax probably I>M a good deal to do with the bees clustering on the rags. An InvDmpU-to Clci»n«lii|f. "Yes, sir," said Japsmith, "I washed ray hands of the entire transaction." "Why didn't you use some soap?" nslted Cumso, with a glance at the hands alluded to.—Judge. A Fair lied. "Is n't this the hardest lx»d you ever slept in?" said one man in a crowded Chicago hotM to hi» bedfellow. "Oh, no!" was the cheerful reply; "I ■ once slept in the lava beds of the Black Uills."—Puok. Courtftblp'a Hours* They strolled together 'ncatb Luna's light. At nine at her father'# door were seen. At ten he whispered to her, good ulght. Anil ho sadly left her at one Af teen. —N. Y. Pre" Why Ho WkM't Hurt. "Robert fell oil a fifty-foot ladder and wasn't hurt $ bit." "Not hurt? I don't l>elievo it." "It's quite true. He fell off the bot tom rung."—Boston Globe. No Wontler. Air. Staylato—Why, my watch liaa stopped. She—l'm not surprised. Vou haven't wound it since you r xt+ - JSTO 33 mm. 3? CHEAP STABLE FLOOR. Ou«* That I* Walrr|iri'of Mini < 4iiaot R« AflW-tc-J bj i>rjr K'/. It is a matter for -,x|srise to many that cement U.*»rs do not more rapidly come into general use, saving as they do both liquid and solid manures, and being rat-pr.>of and indestructible when well put down. The reason lies in the very (Treat stumbling block, tirst cost, including the labor required. Every space Cxl 2 feet requires a barrel of Portland cement, costing $4 or more, or two barrels of commou cement at $2.5© to t'-'. besides the digging and hauling of sand and stone or their pur chase. Then comes in the expense of excavating, mixing and accurate laying. The study has been long and hard how to make a stable floor that is at once durable, water-tight, proof against rats and cheap. The solution is well-sea soned lumlier laid in coal tar and sand or ashes. I do not refer to the hard, brittle compound unwisely smeared a half Inch deep on poor roofs, but to the natural product as it comes from the gas works in its thin and molasses-like consistency. This is excellent also with which to cover the completed floor while still dry, as a preservative. It should lie applied hot with a large brush as long as the lumber will soak it in. But the floor. Having laid the sills and joists in the manner usual for plank flooi*. let them be coated with hot tar and filled and rammed level to within one inch of th« surface where the plank Is t» lie, with sand or coal ashes. Small stones may be used also to witliiu one ia;h of the surface. Mix a quantity of saad or ashes with the tar to the condition sf mortar and throw it between the floor jaists on the bed prepared. Lat this be leveled oB with a stralght-edgsd board saraped on the joists. At once flow k with coal tar and begin layisg the dry planks. While the foundation is in progress let one hand prepare the planks. This Is done by tacking some thick, soft cordage, like candle wicking, on one edge of each, so it will como between ©*wry two planks, and tarring all edges, soaking the wicking full. \Chen the planks art put down they must be forced together tightly and at least every third one spiked. Here is a floor which .vater cannot penetrate, and which dry rot, that most destructive of agencies in warm weath er, cautot affect. Rats and mice ab hor it, as do insects that work in wood floors, making them leak and opening' the way for water to soak them. Its coat is slight, not exceeding the price of cement atone, and it is almost as dura ble. It is never broken by the feet of animals, and when worn out can be quickly replaced, as the foundation is still thera and only needs to be patched up a little. I have taken pains to in slat that the wood used be dry; if not, the moisture it contains will forment within the air-tight tar coating, and be a detriment to durability. For cattle, the plank drops must be put together with heavy spikes, and on the same principle as the floors. Avoid the use of wire nails; thay have not the hold ing power of cut nails, and allow planks to spring apart, drawing them out a little so tliat the urine seeps away. The disagreeable odor from tar can be ab sorbed by dry earth and ventilation for a few days. A great advantage this floor possesses is that it can be laid at slight extra e?:pensc by all who have got to replank their stables and feel the need of greater economy of plant food. In most cases the timbers are all ready for the work.—Hollister Sage, in Q>untrv Uontleman. STRONG WAGON JACK. It U ftliiffl*, Yet It WUI Sapport a Heavy Weight. livery owner of a whoeled vehicle should hava some form of a wagon jat-k, for raising the axle for oiling, or convenient washing of the wheels. The very simplest form is shown in Fig. 1, from a sketch by D. S. Yates, and is simply a board six inches wide, and of the proper length, with two notches ■awod out near the top, as shown. For light wagons, one man can use this jack very easily, but for hoavy wagons as sistance is required. The one in Fig. 'J is cheap, strong and convenient. The part a is made from a two-inch plank of some tough wood, and is two and one-half feet in length. The lever nt is three and one-half feet in length, and should be made from a tough stick three ** . v ~—— rw. L. FIG. SRAONO WAGON JACK. by four inches square, dressed to the form shown. The retaining rod <j may be two pieces of No. 8 annealed wire. The upper end fastens in the serrated edpe on the upper side of the lever. This will be found a most serviceable jack, and will easily support half a ton weight.—American Agriculturist. b'artalng AT BUHIUMIS. Farming is a business, und the man who would make a real success of it nowadays must be a tro<«l business man. lie must be an all-round frood business manager. Besides buying and selling and rtie employment of labor there are the planting, cultivating and harvesting of cropf. the breeding, feed ing and care of live stock, the use of machinery and a hundred other impor tant things which require intelligence, skill and executive ability of a high order. There are a thousand little de- ■ tails of the business to l>e carefully 9 looked after to make the farm do its best. Taking everything into consider ation, the wonder is that there are not more failures on the farm than there are. No business in the city would long stand under the easy-going man agement of the average unsuccessful farmer. —American Farmer. I WOCI.DX'T give much for that man who doesn't feel a tnrill of joy every tim : lie reaches the top of a hill. Why n« Waa Tliflre. The prisoner before the police court bar had been there before many a time. "I'd like to know," said the judge, "why you get here so often?" "It's the only place in town where I can got credit, your honor," was the »mbiguous reply. "Well, you haven't much credit here, I can tell you." "May l>c so, your honor, but just the same I'm always charged with some thing when I come." And the court gave him ten days extra.—Detroit Free IVaas. 5 Forclcii Travel Impryref. Successful Farmer —Son George got eome sense durin' tliat foreign tour any how. Wife—l hain't seen it. "I have. You know he spopt a good while in Lunnon, as he calls it." '•Yes, an' I'd like to know what good it did." '•!' ■• y'r eyes, Mirdnda. lie learned to turn up his pants w'en it rains." —N. Y. Weeklv.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers