VOL XXX •BARGAINS 1 There was never a time when people were looking for bargains so much as at the present time and BICKEL'S bargains were never so attractive as they are now. Our entire stock of Eall and Winter goods have arrived and are open and ready for your inspection Bargain seek ers will have the grandest opportunity the have ever had to select what they may wish from an immense stock of Boots, Shoes and Rubber Goods. & * * NOTE THE PRICES: 350 pair men's kip, D. S. and tap, box toe boots, hand made $3.,50 400 " " " pl a ' n toe " " 3 00 290 " oak kip, guaranteed waterproof - 2.50 300 " heavy kip, long leg boots - - 2.00 218 pair boys hand made kip boots 674 " kip boots 465 pair men's every day shoes - - 9° c to 1 -75 212 pair boys' " - - 75c to 1.40 118 pair women's oil grain lace shoes - 9O 690 " " button " - - 100 175 " veal kip lace shoes - B5 100 pair misses' " " - - 75 300 " oil grain shoes - - 90 1 50 pair ladie's fine dongola shoes, Rochester make, price 3.00 at 1.50 460 " hand turn " " 4.00 at 2.00 300 " kid button shoes - - 9° 190 pair misses' " _ - 85 500 " grain and calf school shoes - 75 300 pair infant shoes - - - 10 Gilt Edge and Atrose fine oil dressing, per bottle - 25 "Bickel" fine shoe polish - - lO Russian cream dressing for tan shoes - - 1 5 -#9ar Prices n Rabbsr Golds Surprise Them All.if- Men's first quality rubber boots, light weight - s2.^o <> % •< heavy " - 2.50 Boy's " - '-75 Youth's " " - " 1,2 5 Ladie's " " - '- 2 5 Men's heavy overs, first quality - 5° 500 pair men's fine specialty rubbers -- 5° Men's self-acting or imitation sandals 5O Ladie's finest grade rubbers, eight styles -- 5° " Croquets or imitation sandals -- 25 Misses' finest grade rubbers " croquets or imitation sandals •• 25 Our stock of rubber goods is larger than ever before,all styles, men's short, knee and hip boots. Same styles in boys' and youths' boots. All styles of men's and ladies Arctics and Alaskas.and child rens and misses storm rubbers. When in need of footwear give me a call. JOHN BICKF.L. 128 SOUTH MAIN STREET, BUTLER, PENN'A. The New Shoe Store IS OPEN TO THE PUBLIC. Close cash buyers can save money 011 footwear. Goods bought at panic prices—customers get the benefit. Are you open for a deal. GIVE XJS A CALL- I have just returned from the Easten shoe market where I bought for cash a large line of Boots, Shoes and Rubbers, and in order to introduce myself I am going to make very low prices. Profit no object— Your trade is all. Dili t fail to call at THE NEW SHOE STORE. Remember the place, opposite Arlington Hotel, Butler, Pa. 0. E. MILLER. BEST QUALITY BOOTS AND SHOES Cheaper than ever at AL. RUFF'S. We want your trade and will sell you Boots and Shoes cheaper than they can be bought else where. See our line of Men and boys' Kip Boots. Our line of Women's Calf and Oil Grain Shoes. Our Children's Waterproof School Shoes. We will save you your car fare to Butler on a single pair of shoes. AL RUFF. Xl 4 S. MAIN STREET. - - - BUTLER, PA. The Fair is Coming. OUR SHOES ARE DOWN. 60 pairs of Ladies' fine Oxfords Eddys & Webster's make were 2.75 now only 190 200 pairs of Ladies*' shoes Eddy & Webster's make band turn*! atvl volt wore 4.50 and 5.00 n>* oaly 3 75. 1 lot of Ladies' shoes hand turned were 2.25 and 2.50 now only 1.90. 1 lot of Oxford* ties only CO cts All children's Red and tan shoes at 85 cts. were 1.00 and 1.25. 1 lot Men's Cordovan welt shoes Strong & Carrell make were 5.50 now only 4.65. 1 lot Men's French calf shoes Strong & Carrell make were 475 now only 3.90 1 lot Men's Dongola were 225 now 1.65. 1 lot Men's double so'e and tap were 2.00 now 1.45. All Shoes Down to Rock Bottom Prices at ROBINS BROS., 8. E. corner of Diamond - - Butler, Pa j _ r? / THE BUTLER CITIZEN. ■THE KIND fi ' ■ Mils. REV. A. J. DAY, . H| No. Earton, N. Y. 11 SCROFULOUS ECZEMA | FOR 20 YEARS! I ■ _ £* E§ DANA SARSAPAII.LA CO., =E mm Mepsrh :—My wif<- «u bom of parents prcih*-== ■poted to tOAHI MPTIoV. S.x »f h.rß and »i.«tor« died of M'\o DIS-= H EAHEM. My wife'* health w«iunuaua'.ly g>»dj=j Bfup to th«* age of about 40 year*; at that tinv-IM ■HC BOFf E.O I*S taint manifested it If inthe== ■form of ECZEM A on nearly all part* of tlieH Bbodr; after a time it yielded to the remedies used.gg Ss except on front of "npht ahoulder where it ha*=— (■remained for 'iO y«*nra with almost < gitunt Irritation and Itching;* SincensinplH ■ DANA'S 1 1 SARSAI'A RILLA | Hn V,T.\ on her hrad haa broken and dinchnrgedjjß nnt;l almost entirely gone, Ila'.ittial CortlTentt«9 EKul«<• greatly relieved. === ■ We have heretofore us J2. rarlrtr of remedi<>sH i= , * ith but little result, but DANA 5 BARSAPA- == RILLA haa proved »o effectual in reliering mv== wife of ECZEM A and M ROFI L.i| in the blood that I must my it ia a grand combina-jES tion of remedial affer.U, and that ray wife'* proata improvement i* due to ita power ai;d the blewingßl of a kind Providence upon ia use. ts~- I have taken one bottle myself and find it Alterative. *» Respectfully, REV. A. J. DAY. = == Pastor M. E. Church, No. Easton, N. Y. H | . I | Only one Sarsaparllla sold on the " No== PAY " plan. Only one could! gg stand the test, and that one Is OANA'S. jj| PHEMEMBER THIS. M & Dana Sarsaparllla Co., Belfast, Maine. | PHOKivS-lONAL CARD * Q. ?.I. i TJ TV: H. K M . r iriici/.v «ND ST--. Office ai-Ao. *6, 8. M iln wrrt. f'r.si-. •Jo's IJiusf Sl. ire. U-JTLI-r. i' J. Dr. N. M. HUoV£R, 13V K. '.VajncVsi., oilice hours, lo f-i 12 M. 11 I to 3 P. M. SAMUEL M. BIPPUS. Physician and Surgeon. 200 West Cunningham St. L. BLACK, PUVSICIA;-* SUUUBKK. New Treutman )!ull Specialties: Specialties: Ofuae OLOG)' AND Sur- Eye, Ljr. N,>se ARM tftry. Throat, DRS. LEAKE & MANN, Bulier, Pa. J. J. DONALDSON, Dentist. Butler, Penn'a. Artiih-.iiil TeetL inserted co the latest ux. proved plait. Gold Filling a specialty. Office— over Scliaur» t'lotliiiii Store. V. ivIcALPINE, Dentist, Is NOW LOCATED In t.evv AND ELEGANT rooms ;ad- JOIUUIK tils. lorm-T. ones. All kinds or clasp plates and moderea «okl work. "Gas Administered." DR. S. A. JOHNSTOM. DENTiST, - - BUTLER, PA Gold Filling Painless Kxir eiion OL Tee'Ll and Artificial Teeth wit hout l'lates a special 1 > Nitrous Oxide >r Vitalized Air or LEX UL USE I. OUce Millers Gro'cry EA~' of LO'.vrj House. OiTlce closed Wednesdays u,i 1 to ut sd i-i IRA McJUNKIN. Attorney at Law, ai No. TT, Eait .leHer -.111 St., Butler. P:», W. C.. FiNDLEY, Attorney AT 1.;.W and Be IL ('.state Agent. 01 A-I rear ot L. Z. Mitchell's oillce IN _l< .rfh side of Diamond. Butler, IV.. H. H. GOUCHER. Attorney-at-la»T. Ofllce ON 'COTID 1 Audeison building. 1 ••\r COURT LI AISE. l ul> J. W. HUTCHISON, ATTOKXEV AT LAW. Oillce ON second Moor JL the il'iSelt 'N olocii iMamond, Butler, Pa., No. 1. S. H. PIERSOL. ATTORNEY AT LAW. Oftlceal No. 101 West Diamond St. A. T. BLACK. ATTORNEY AT LAW. Room P., Armory Building-, Butler, Pa COULTER & BAKER. ATTORNEYS AT LAW. Office In room 8.. Armory Building BMLT-r PH. H. Q. WALKER, Attorm-y-at-Uiw— Ofilce in Diamond Blocfc 15 ttler. Pa. J. M. PAINTER. Atlornoy-at-Law. Omce— Between PoHtoffioe an ' Irtani ud, ler. Pa. A. T. ICO I T, ATT< »RN KY-AT-LAV". OtDc" at No. 8, Simtli lii'imon.!, Uut'.er. Pa. A. M. CHRISTLEY, ATIOKNF.Y .AT LAW Office second floor, Anderson B1 k, Ma!U St. near Court House, Butler, Pa. NEWTON BLACK. Att'y at Law— Offic«v>n SO".th alde;of; DIUM< nd JVIIT I,'r. Pa. C. F. L. IV-cQUISTION, ENUL\E£K A\D SUKVEYOH, Orrictt NF.AA DI UOND, BI'TL: it, Pi. BERKIMER Si TAYLOR, Funeral Directors and Embalmers iam ond Blcclc, next door to Post Office, Butler, Pa., prompt attention given to orders, day or night. LAfr : ' " [Copy-rieht, IS9). by A. N. K'cllofj NewspapcrCo CHAPTER 111. STY FAIRY PRINCE. I name hin: as 1-. ■ appeared to me in the two hours that followed. He came like the Benign spirit of some old fairy tale, bearing to me brig-lit promise for the future. Now, when long years have passed, with all the fujl, strange record with which this narrative deals, I can think of the hour and the man in no other way. It was my hour of promise—he was my fairy prince. "Bostock!" said my father, holding out his hand, "Little Pierce Bostock? Why, it don't seem possible." "Yes, that reminds me, Amos, of how we used to wrestle, side hold. You used to throw me."' "I don't think I could do it now," said my father. "I reckon not, Amos. Well, my old chum. I'm mighty glad to see j-ou. Will you believe it. Amos? —being in Bos ton for the very first time since I went south, the thought struck me to come up here, and hunt up old friends and schoolmates. There's few of them left; and I'm right glad I've found you." "I feel flattered by your remem brance and your kindness. Pierce. It's but a poor hospitality I have to offer you; but you're welcome to it. Come to the house, and we'll sit down and talk over old days." "We'll have to talk fast, Amos. I've mortgaged my time the north, and I must leave Boston to-morrow. I can give you two hours only. This is your boy, eh?—fine manly fellow. What's his name? —Dorr? Why, is it possi ble you called him after my father?" "Indeed I did, Pierce. You remem ber how kind he was to me. The boy's name is Dorr Bostock Jewett." "Now I like that; I'll not forget it. j Come along to the house as you said." His beaming smile captivated me; as we walked along, while he busily talked with my father, he playfully shouldered my hoe. and took hold of my hand. Arrived at the house, my mother was introduced. It was the first exhibition of high bred politeness I had ever seen, and it impressed me. In the life that I had been living, duty and labor went for everything. courtesy was scant enough. Mr. Bostock removed his hat, gently took my mother's hand, and bowed very low. "Extremely glad to meet you, madam. Your husband is my oldest and dearest friend, though I've seen nothing of him since we were mere lads." "Sit down, sir, and make yourself comfortable," said my mother. "Will you stay to tea?" "Thank you—l shall not have time," he replied, looking at a massive-cased gold watch. "The train leaves the village at seven; it's almost five now." "If you were raised in New Hamp shire, perhaps you haven't forgotten how to eat mush and milk." "Why, bless me, madam, can you give me a bowl of it? My old nigger cooks get up corn bread, corn cake and nil kinds of corn fixings, but they can't make mush. I'd like it above all ) things." With a napkin under his fat chin, our jolly guest sat at the table, partak ing with evident relish of the simple entertainment that was set before him. lie was a keen observer, notwithstand ing his easy, careless way. and I think that nothing had escaped his notice. Never had the house and its furnish ings seemed as shabby to me as now. "Beg pardon. Amos; but you know everything is permitted between old friends. You don't thrive well here." "No," said my father, "and I fear I never shall. You remember something about this old place; twenty acres out of the thirty no better than a stone quarry. Had luck has followed me; I've had bad seasons, slim crops, sick ness and debt. It's a hard struggle, almost a hopeless one." "I'm sorry for you, Amos; from the bottom of my soul I am. I don't know of a fellow who deserved good fortune ahead of you. If you'd struck out when I did, you'd have succeeded any where. New England is a good place to rear men. but no place at all for them to spread, you know. I don't brag, but I've got a right to point with some pride to what I've done since I saw these hills last." "You are at the south, I infer," said my father. "I've one thousand acres of the best cotton land in Mississippi below Vicks burg. I plant every acre of it; and I raise sugar in Louisiana." "I hope you're not a slaveholder, sir," said my mother. "O, I've a few niggers—hardly a hundred. I've had to hire some the last season." At the horrified'looks of my mother and the painful silence of my father Mr. Bostock wiped his mouth and laughed. "I'd like to have you come down and see how some of those lazy cattle im pose upon me. But, dash it all, Amos, I haven't time to discuss the institu tion, and it wouldn't do, either —we should quarrel. Of course you're an abolitionist. I remember you in the old days; you were cut out for one. Let's talk about something else." "You have a family, of course, Pierce?" "My wife died a few years ago. I've one child, Coralie, a little witch o| seven. I've a great house, which ia run by the servants. I know all about the plantation, but I haven't much control inside. Everything is lavish, and it's a wonder to me, sometimes, that I'm not a poor man. But come down, and you'll find hospitality enough." For more than an hour he talked, in terrupted only by an occasional ques tion or exclamation. I did not observe then —long afterward I had occasion to recall the fact —that he parried sev eral attempts of my parents to draw him out about his deceased wife and his daughter. He talked interesting ly, almost eloquently, about the culti vation of cotton, the scenes in the im mense fields when the picking time ar rived, the ginning, the baling and the "shooting" down the long incline to steamboat. To me it was all a new revelation; I listened with all my senses. He turned to me briskly with the question: "Well, my lad, how would you like to go down and see all this for your self?" "Above all things, sir." "I say, Amos, why not send him down to me, after a few years? I'll put him in the way to be rich." I sat with clasped hands, eagerly looking from one to the other of my parents. Their hearts were touched by the thought of parting with me, and by the generous interest of Mr. Bostock. "I I: an it, Amos. I've taken a no tion tL> the boy, and I'd like to have him with me. To be sure, I'm a slave , hdJrtan. there's lots of more dan IU T TLKR. FA.,FRIDAY. NOVEMBER 3, 1893. gerous animals in the woods than the unfortunate man who has to feed and clotl.o a parcel of lazy niggers. You needn't hurry: keep him a few years yet; send him to school; and by and by send him down to me. via Cincinnati, Cairo and Yicksburg. 11l take care ol him, and give him such a start in the world as he'd never get up this way. I won't forget what I'm saying, Amos, neither. What do you say?" "Your kindness quite overpowers me. Pierce. I'll think seriously of it, and talk it over with the boy and his mother." "All right, my old friend; the thing is as good as done. Now my time is about up. Don't get crazy over politics, Amos, and don't take Don- to youi abolition meetings. Let me have a pen and Ink and I'll put down my ad dress for you." He took from his pocket a narrow blank book, wrote rapidly upon a leaf of it. tore out' the leaf, thrust it into my father's hand, and had said his fare well and was out of the house with a celerity that was really bewildering. My father looked at the paper. It shook in his hand; he turned pale. He could not speak, but held the paper toward us. My mother took and read it, while I looked over her shoulder. The leaf was from a blank check book. On the stub he had written his address; the body was a check on a Boston bank, payable to the order of Amos Jewett for one thousand dollars! "I can't take it—l really must not," said my father. "Dorr, go and tell him so." I ran out of the house. Mr. Bostock was already one hundred yards off lay ing the lash on the horse. I shouted to IIE LOOKED BACK ASD WAVED HIS HAT. him: he looked back, waved his hat to me, ..ad disappeared over the hill. I went back into the house and re ported. '•lie wants you to have it, Amos," said my tearful mother. "May God bless his great generoui heart," said my father, with much emo tion. "Dorr, my dear boy, you can go to the academy now." CHAPTER IV. HOW I FLANKED THE DEACON. I thought, at first, to dismiss the events of the two following' chapters with a brief mention, as they do some what depart from the course of the narrative. But it has appeared better, on second thoughts, to withhold noth ing of the circumstances attending my farewell to my northern home. And it must not be said that the chr racter of Deacon Halleck is presented here as a type of the men of that section. Keenly do I remember the kindness, the patience, the neighborly good will and good works of the people in a com munity where poverty was the rule and hard toil was the common lot. Because the deacon happened to be connected in a curious way with the final severance of my home ties and old associations his picture is presented here just as he was. I suppose that his kind is not yet extinct. This is au tobiography; it should be complete. The bounty of our generous southern friend enabled me to have one precious year at the academy, some years later, and gave my father the means to re plenish his poor stock and poorer farm implements. But when he told Mr. Bostock that bad luck had followed him, he spoke in prophecy as well as history. My poor father! He deserved a better fate. Misfortune followed mis fortune; they came "—Not single spies, But in battalions." Each year the thin soil that overlaid the rocks grew more grudging in its yield; a murrain carried off the cattle; hard work and anxiety prostrated my mother, and death mercifully released her. This stroke fell in my eighteenth year. For awhile my father bore up under his accumulating load of misfor tune and sorrow; but when his creditor commenced the foreclosure of the mort gage, both hope and ambition left him. He died the day after the place was sold; and if ever a man perished of a broken heart, it was he. Twice, at his suggestion, at long in tervals, I had written to Mr. Bostock to repeat our thanks for his gift and so to remind him of the poor New Hampshire lad in whom he had prof fered so warm an interest. Later de velopments caused me to recall the dates of this correspondence. My first letter was written upon my sixteenth birthday anniversary, January 1, 1858. In the due and rather slow course of the mails of that time an answercame, postmarked at the address in Missis sippi which Mr. Bostock had left with us. I was at that time completing my first quarter at the academy; was eager and zealous in my studies, and it must be confessed that I was rather taken aback to discover that my correspond ent was a very poor speller. But the matter of the epistle I could not have wished different. It was hearty, gen erous, sympathetic. lie reiterated all I had heard from him as to myself, five years before, and he bade me come down to him as soon as my parents would consent. My second letter was written in 1857, upon the death of my father, and advised my correspondent that both of my parents were no more. To this no answer was ever returned. I thought strangely of his silence. It troubled me much, although I at tributed it to miscarriage of the mails. After the lapse of a few weeks, the de sire and intention to write again grew strong. It so happened that the difli >ulties and annoyances of the situa tion in which I was placed after the death of my father caused me to defer this design; so that, when I started on my southern journey in the summer of 1858, the letter was still unwritten. My father died soon after I became , twenty years of age. For a year after —a memorable year!—l was domiciled in the family of my guardian, Deacon Halleck. Shall I attempt a pen-picture of this 1 man? It is not possible for me to do it justice. He was something over fifty, long, gaunt and Ballow, with a high | pitched, squeaking Y9i? e tb »t disnmUy rasped through all better sounds in the church choir. His face was thin, peaked and bloodless, his eyes restless, his hands were always moving about as if searching for more coin to add to his store. He was reported to be worth twenty thousand dollars —a large for tune for that day and place. Behind his back people called him a hard, pe nurious man; in public he was referred to as "our leading citizen," "a model of piety," "a pillar of religion." In common with this man's unhappy family, I suffered all the severity of patriarchal government, and all the torments of religious fanaticism, du ring my sojourn in his house. At sun set of Saturday, the Sabbath was deemed to have begun, and a disci pline harsher than that of the peniten tiary was enforced. The Scriptures were read and expounded through Deacon Ilalleek's nose. Morning and afternoon the family was marshaled forth to the meeting-house on the hill, barren of shade, where the people sweltered in summer and froze in win ter, as stoves in the latter season would have been deemed a suggestion of the adversary, At all times in the j week levity was frowned upon and discouraged. The stray copies of tho Boston papers that had been my de« light were vigorously confiscated, as the deacon had not the time to go ! over them with the scissors and clip i out the sinful paragraphs. The few | volumes of history and poetry which : I had accumulated by long and patient self-denial —my precious books!—were seized and put under lock and key, , until this Cerberus could look them j over and see if any of them were fit ! to escape the flames. Meantime, pend ing this decision, I was recommended j to peruse the volumes of the deacon's small but select library, of which Bax- j ter's "Perseverance and Rest of the Saints," the lurid sermons of Rev. Jonathan Edwards, and "Fox's Book of Martyrs," may be cited as speci mens. My existence heretofore had been one of toil and poverty; but love ancj kindness had lighted it. To say that I hated this new existence and its condi tions, is very feebly to express my feel ings. In the December before my majority the deacon's barn, situated some dis tance from the house, caught fire, and was burned to the ground. It was filled with hay, part of the crop from the owner's farm, and disused implements, all of which were con sumed. The deacon promptly collect ed the insurance, and it was cautiously whispered about that he had succeeded in getting his loss appraised at about double the actual amount. But people were very careful about repeating this story. The restraint and discipline to which I was subjected brought on an explo sion that winter. It was soon after my twenty-first birthday. I had been waiting a little for my austere guardian to inform me that I was no longer un der his direction, when I was resolved by hook or crook to make my way to Mississippi. In the meantine I resolved upon a little unwonted personal lib erty. A young people's sleighride to a tavern up in a gap of the mountains, with a supper and a dance, had been projected. I well knew it would ba fruitless to ask permission; so I re solved to attend by means of that ex pedient which the sailors call "taking French." In other words, I climbed out of my chamber window at nine o'clock, when the family were asleep. Disaster attended our homeward way in the early hours of the morning. The harness broke; delay attended its repair; it was long after daylight when we reached the village. I know that my clandestine absence must have been discovered, and I resolved to put a bold face on the matter. The deacon's family were at breakfast when I walked in. The tyrant at the head of the table glared wrathfully'upon me. "Where have you been, sir?" "Up at Snediker's, with the sleigh ing party." "Wretched youth! Your depravity " WHAT DO TOTJ MEAN, YOU YOI'.VO IMP?" is astounding 1 . I will see you in the woodshed after breakfast." I made no reply, but ate with consid erable composure, while the commis erating glances of the deacon's big boys sought my face. Sad experience told them what was coming. The meal over, the deacon indulged In a long addendum of thanks for what we had received, mingled with pioua denunciations of the depraved conduct of one of the family. He rose from the table and, with a motion to me, marched out into the woodshed. I fol lowed promptly. He reached down a great hickory limb from the shelf and, bending and trying it in his hand, he addressed mo with a sternness that was seasoned with a savage kind of glee as ho antici pated the diversion ho was about to provide for himself. "Dorr Jewett, take off your coat. 1 have too long neglected my duty. Tho devil is clamoring for your immortal soul. I will chastise the adversary out of you. Take off your coat." I snatched up a heavy oak stool that stood by and put myself on the defen sive. "If you lay a hand on me I'll knock your brains out!" I cried. IImc time. I sec Queen Victoria is le orning Hindustani I at the age of sevent. f.—Town lopies. —. i A Perfect* Saint. He—lfmakes me a better man every I ttme I kias you, darli Og ) She—CXh, my, Charl.k! How goodyor must bcynow. —Brook y£n Life* NTO 4zH I m lt. YOUNG FRUIT TREES. Bon to Take Care of Thrui During th« rirmt Sumner. The first season after the young fruit tree has been transplanted from the nursery to its permanent home in the orchard is a critical period in its exist ence. and it is hardly too much to say that on its growth during this period depends in a great measure the future value of the tree. If it receives a check at this point ia its career its full possi ble perfection will probably never be realized. Of course much of the first season's successor failure depends upon the care or carelessness with which the transplanting has been done in the spring, but still the summer care will have much to do in helping the tree through the first season. The greatest danger the tree will en counter is the scaldinff effect of the midsummer heat and the weakeniug of its vitality by a drying of the earth about the roots. The first difficulty will be at least partially obviated, aud the latter almost wholly, by taking care that the earth is made firm about the roots when the tree is transplanted and kept thoroughly well mulched. The mulching should be spread on thickly and as far out from the trunk of the tree as the roots ruu. and if carried considerably farther it will be all the better, as the moist condition of the soil beyond the extremities of the roots will induce good growth. Another care of summer is to be ou the lookout for the eggs of the apple tree borer that may be deposited upon the trunk, from which eggs, if not de stroyed, will come a brcod of larraj capable of inflicting irreparable damage upon the tree. Another important summer care is the cutting off at opce of all branches that are not desirable for the growing tree to possess, as in this way much streugth can be saved to be expended in growth, where growth is desired. Care at all points throughout the season is amply repaid by the orchard in after years. —Webb Donnell, in American Agriculturist. CRATE FOR CiARDENERS. Particularly Valuable In the Handiiuff of Tender Vegetable*. A peck crate, like the one illustrated, is very useful in the retail market gar den trade. Tlicy are particularly valu able in handling tomatoes, preventing bruising in carrying, and avoiding handling. I have found them so much A PECK CRATE. more durable than baskets that 1 shall attempt to use these and half-bushel sizes in gathering from the field. I will devise some kind of iron liardle for carrying them.—S. H. Tyrer, in Ameri can Gardening. Don't Be Afraid to Spray. The danger from the daily absorption of small quantities of copper salts with foods has been greatly exaggerated. Grapes sprayed with the Bordeaux mix ture according to the directions of the department ->f agriculture cannot pos sibly conta.n more than 35-1000 of a graiu of copper per pound of grapes in the bunch, which is less than one-tenth as much as is contained in one pound of beef liver and is absolutely inoffensive to the human system. The insoluble form in which the salt of copper occurs upon the clusters, and the fact that the stems and skins are not eaten, places the Bordeaux mixture still further from suspicion.—Farm and Home. lllgh-Prlccd Tomatoes. Most of the profit from the tomato crop is from those sold very early, which always bring high prices, and those that come after the glut is over. The tomato is a perishable fruit, and usually about the time the vines are nipped by the frost there is a brisk de mand for it. The very early tomatoes cost heavily, as they have to be started in hothouses, and if planted out early need extra protection and rich soil. The late crop can be grown in the open air, and if all the fruit does not ripen there is always a good demand for it green to use in making mixed pickles. Diseases of riants. Diseases of plants may be eradicated bv omitting the crops that are subject to diseases from the land for a series of years. The potato rot of the sweet po tato cannot be prevented except by keeping sweet potatoes off the land until the rot or its spores have been de stroyed by growing some other crop on the land that is not subject to the dis ease. Onions, once a profitable crop in Connecticut, became unprofitable, and the growing of them for awhile had to be abandoned. Now the land seems to be adapted to onions again and they are being grown with profit. Peach Yellows Can't He Cured. The agricultural department has just issued a bulletin on the subject of peach yellows, prepared by Special Aprent Smith. It embodies the results of four years' experiments with fertil izers to determine their value as pre ventives and cures of the disease. Iho experiments were made in the middle states, and Dr. Smith says he is sat is fied that peach yellows cannot lx- cured by fertilization of the soil, and he there fore recommends that further experi ments be abandoned. What noad Improvement Meiin. One of the best ways to improve the farmer is to improve the roads. Im provement of the roads means lmpvova ment in traffic in which the townsman is as much interested as the farmer. Atlantic (la.) Telegraph. PtANT the plum orchard where it can be utilized as a chicken yard when in bearing, for the chickens will k»ep down the injects so destructive to olanta. Had Somo Sho-ir. Rounder—l lost a thousand dollars i yesterday at the ra-ces Ilorsc broke down at the post. Sounder—That's nothi-ig. I had my pocket picked this morning of twenty i five hundred dollars and chased the i : thief for half an hour without catch ! ing him Rounder—Well, you are better off ; than I r.m. You got a run for your ! money.—Life. (iave Himself Airay First Waiter (at summer resort)— j Can't stop to talk. I'm waitin'on a ten- I dollar-a-week clerk at table 05. Second Waiter—How did you get his | salary down so fine? 3 First Waiter—lt ain't more than that, or lie wouldn't a'given ine such a big : tip.—Good News. Her 1U nl Rights. Mamie —I believe in woman's rights. Gertie —Then you thinkevery womaa > should have a vote. Mam it.—No; but I think every wom ' as should have a voter. —Harper's Ba i ax-