YOLXXXII L£ ' BL THE BUTLER pAIR! SEPTEMBER 3, 4, 5 & 6,1895. rates on all the railroads during three days. Premium Lists on application tc the Secretary. W. P. ROESSING, Butler, Pa. ass laf as Both Trumps And Trumps Lead— \ f QijS/ Our Line of fine Shoes I j J J ought to draw you to I jj to the inspection of K j \j\ their merits Prices £\ ML have touched the bot- LOOK! At Our Prices. Men's Tan Shoes that sold at $5.50 go at Men's Tan Shoes that sold at #4.00 go at f 2 - 2 5- Men's Tan Shoes that sold at $3.25 go at #1.75. Boy's Tan Shoes that sold at #2.00 go at $ 1 .00. ' Men's Calf Shoes that sold at # 1.50 go at #I.OO. Men's Everv Day Shoes that sold at $1.25 go at 90c. Boy's Every Day Shoes that sold at fi.oo go at 75c. Ladies Shoes, Grandest Bargains Ever Offered. Ladies' fine dongola patent tip shoes at 90c. Ladies' flexible sole shoes lace and button at fi.so. Indies' russett shoes hand turns at $2.00. Ladies' russett shoes heel or spring at $ 1.00. Women's heavy tip shoes f 1.00. Women's heavy shoes button fi.oo. Misses heavy shoes in lace or button at 75c. Children's school shoes 50c to 75c. Owing to the material advance the manufacturers have advanced 011 all their goods—but as our large fall and winter stock wh'.ch is arriving daily was bought before the ad /ance, I am now prepared to show the largest stock of reliable Boots and Shoes ever brought to Butler, and at such ) emarkably low prices that you are sure to buy. Our stock is large anil complete. Full stock of Men's and Boy s heavy Boots; Full stock of rubber goods; Complete stock of Felt Boots and Shoes— Also line of warm lined Shoes and Slippers—Men's, Women's and Misses' heavy shoes in all material's and all at the old LOW PRICK. When in Butler call and see me. Mail orders receive prompt attention. JOHN BICKEL, 128S Main Street, BUTLER, PA. Branch Store 12 5 N. nain st, What Do You Think of This FOR JULY. Top Buggies Low as S4O 00 Top Slat Wagon Low as SSO 00 Two Horse Earm Wagor. $55 00 Phaeton s(>o 00 Two Seat Spring Wagon S3B 00 Harness Oil Per Gal 60 Axle Greese 4 Boxes -S Buggy Wheels, with steel tire SB.OO per set Harness Leather has advanced 50 per cent, but we had enough to last us a whole year, bought at the Old Price, and are making Harness accordingly. Therefore, anybody wanting harness, now is the time to buy to save $5 to $lO per set. No difference what you want about you team or wagon, come here. Also if you need a Trunk or Valise, we keep a full line. S, B. MARTINCOURT & CO., 128 E. Jefferson St., Butler Pa. % lGauge Underwear at greatly J OX Reduced Prices. * NOTHER Cut in Millinery! Any flower Zk in the house for 7cts. Another table of * qc ribbon —you will find this just as good as we sold last week. A LL ofour LINEN and SILK *7* . **GLOVES AT HALF-PRIC H ,t%. M. F. & M. MARKS, 113 to 117 S. Main St. THE BUTLER CIT IZEN. The Foundation of Good Health is Pure, Rich Blooc" j And the surest, best way to purifv your blood is to take Hood's Sarsaparilfa Hood's Pills tire. AUdruKidstt. HEINEMAN & SON, I S \ SUMMER | r is approaching and tqa J r only way to keep cool is J J to go to rt? Ileinemans \x Q- t K fc" and ffet yourself a c'ce d i>s Mammocks Pt We have the largest J t?' 03 J aDd finest line of J C z> Hammocks Ox ? c ever brought to Butler 4 4 Wall Paper *,c I > J2J J from the cheapest, to the \ " Sample Sale you will see Summei Shoes going cheaper than ever be fore. Don't delay but come at once and try The New Shoe Store puring This SAMPLE SALE OF SUMMER SHOES. C. E. MILLER, 215 S. Main St., Butler, Pa Seanor & Nace's 1 Livery, Feed and Sale Stable, i Rear of Wick House, Buller, Pa The best of horses and first clase rigs always on hand and for hire. Best accommodations in town for permanent boarding and transient j trade. Special care guaranteed. Stable room for Bixty-five horses j A good class of horseß, both driv ers and draft horses always on band j and for sale under a full guarantee; j and horses bought upon proper noti [ I (ication by SEA NOR & NA'JE- All kinds ot live stock bought and sold. Telephone at Wick House. HOUSEHOLD ENAMEL, SUPERSEDES PAINT AND VARNISH. Can l»e applied to any smooth surface,on furniture. wood, fjla.su. any kind of metal including kitchen utensils. Makes old articles look new and is much ( used on bicycles, carriages, stoves, etc. Requires only one coat, is applied cold , with brush and dries absolutely hard ard j (flossy in 2 hours —will not crack, chip ! blister or rnb off. Cample bottles sent on receipt of price, j ; ounces 15c, 4 ounces 25c, 8 outc 40c West Deer Park Printing In k Co., 4 Xs*v RKAOK, ST.N'K.V YOS J ▲GENTS WANTED. RTTTLER. PA., THURSDAY. Al OUST 15 IW,. PIMPLEDINK'S REFORM. Brought About by Purely Natural Causes. Miller drore his jacltkuife into the ' ' bench and then ' "Well, what air you S' kicking aboul i miiß prowled the Chronic Sb&F Loafer, who was _seated on the steps " 1 " 111 of the stone porch in the little town in a backwoods section of Pennsylvania, gazing vacantly down the road. "Jest thinkinY' replied the Miller, closing' his knife and placing it in his pocket. Then he leaned back agai-.ist the window and repeated: "lluh: Thinkin'!" "Thet's on usual," grumbled the Loafer. The storekeeper was sitting on a crate of eggs, which was awaiting tho arrival of the stage for shipment. He leaned toward the occupant of tho bench and asked: "Now, what is amus in' you?" "I was jest thinkin' about how Bill Pumpledink was reformed," replied tho other, grinning. "Him as seen the time he'd a-give his farm for a drink of hard cider. Ain't you never heard about it?" "I know he used to do a power of drinkin'," said the Loafer, "an thet now he's alius goin' ter church an bush meetin', but I never heard how et come." "Don't you ever tell I told you, fer 1 wouldn't hev it git out fer a farm, - ' be gan the -Miller. "Pumpledink, he's a friend of mine, an' it was him as told me, with the assistance of his boy Barnabas. Bill's mind is jest a leetle hazy on the subject, but the pints ha s mixed on Ilarnabas an' good common sense reasonin' hes supplied. It hap pened jest this time last year an' —" "In the ides of June," ventured the School-Teacher, who was on his way to the parsonage, but had stopped at the store for a little gossip. "Yes, in June; the hides of June,' continued the Miller. "Bill Pumple dink has a place over in the gut. \ou uns knows how to git there. Vou foll3* the road thet crosses the mountains through Smith's gap tell you come to barker's sawmill; there you switch off to the right, keeping along the gut between the ridge and the mountain fer half a'mile, and you come to his place. A lonely spot, too; woods all 'round exceptin' a few fiel's as hes more stones 'an soil on 'em. "I know his place well," interposed the Loafer. "I used to pass it on the way fishin'. A lawg house an' a slab barn in the middle of a few acres of cleariu". Lonely? Sights!" "Pumpledink used to belong to our lodge of the Knights of the Maltese Star, an' was reg'lar at the meetin's up in West Eden. Sam Miller had a license in them days, an' as soon as the meetin' was over Bill Pumpledink made right fer the hotel, an' how he ever got home at all afterward I could never see. They was three bridges fer him ter git acrosst, but only once, as I knows on, was he picked out of a creek. That was next day after our county convention, when his son Barnabas foun' him sleepin' in the wotter, jest on the edge of thet deep sucker hole, where the road crosses Windy creek. "The first meetin' in June was the last one Pumpledink ever 'tended. He j went to the hotel thet night as usual, j and at twelve o'clock ho began to pick j his way home. I low he ever got over j them three miles I don't know, nor be ! doesn't himself, ne reached the clear in' all right and then set down on a j stump at the side of the road. It was a clear night. The}' was a half moon overhead, shinin' down quiet-like through the trees; a little breeze was rattlin' the leaves. He felt kind of lonely an' creepy like an' got up to go, aimin' toward the house out in the clearin'. He sais he must hev ben , walkin' about five minutes, but when , he set down to rest, there he was on j the same stump, and he was plumb disgusted. He set a minute, an' then tried it again, but it wasn't no use, fer he sais no matter how fer he walked ! it seemed like thet stump kept right along side fer him to set on. "That riled him like, an' he picked up a stone an' tossed it acrosst the road jest to ease off his feelin's. He didn't I "WELL, WHAT Allt YOU KICKING ABOUT?" know it then, but it seems that the rock fell near a big hen that was lav ing by tho fence with a family under her wings. This here hen was nat'ral surprised, still, an' looked up an' sais loud like: "Clook!' "Pumpledink started an' put hishand to his ear, an' in his Dutch way sais: 'Woices.' "He was kinder scared settiu' out there in the woods alone, and unable to move without a stump follyin' him. " 'Clook-clook-clook,' sais the hen a leetle louder. "'Look?' yells Bill, gittin' white. 'Look? Woices in the grass. Look?' "Then from the typ of the poplar tree behind him somethin' calls out: 'To-who —to-who —to -who" " 'Clook-clook,clook,' sais the old lion, gittin' excited. " 'To-who-to-who,' came the reply from the tree. "Bill Pumpledink's hair jest stood on end, an', tremblin' all over, he got up an' ran toward the house, an' when he got all out of wind he sank down ag'in on a stump, an' there it was jest the same old stump, though he sais he's positive he must a-run clean acrosst the clearin'. Then he panted, fer he was all outer breath: "Look! To-who! W oices" "Everything was quiet, an' he could hear nothin' but the breeze shakin' the leaves overhead, and the wotter ripplin' along the creek down in the woods. He was all a-tremblin', an' would a-felt better, he sais, ef only a wildcat 'ud a-called, fer he didn't like them ghost ly voices. He picked up a stone, and cautious like, tossed it toward where the old hen was. " 'Clook-clook,' she sais. " 'Gawd,' sais Pumpledink In his j Dutch way. " 'To-who-to-who! - calls the owl over head. "He near fell off the stump he was so bad frightened, fer from over acrost the clearin' came the answer plain: "Poor-will-poor-wilL' '"lt's me them woices is talkin' about,' thinks he. All the stories of ghosts au' he'd ever lieara come Oack to him, au he seen them wild onearthly things every where about him. '•Tremblin' all over he rose to his feet and staggered toward the houv. He sais he's sure he walked fer five minutes before he set down exhausted, but there he was on thet same old stump. He stayed there pantin' a d listenin', but he didn't hear nothin' but the wind an' the wotter, an' he set n a hundred shudders thet looked to him like ghosts wavin' to and fro around the clearin'. Down in the woods he no ticed a big -white thing standin' quiet. He stared at it hard, tremblin' all ov. r and his teeth chatterin'. It seem 1 like it moved toward him, an' so he grabbed a stone an' throwed it at it " r:r "I'LL NEVER TECXI ASOTUER DROP." with all his force. The thing disap peared an' there was quiet; then a splash as the rock fell inter the black pawned down be the creek. Thet old bullfrawg I'umpledink hed all spring ben tryin' to ketch with a piece of red flannel on a fishhook, climbed out on a lawg an' begin in the deep way them frawgs talks through their noses: 'Bully-rum-bully-rum-bully-rum.' "You could a killed Bill Pumplekink with a feather he was thet badskeered. He fell back on the stump gaspin', an' in his Dutch-like way he yells: 'Woices —woices ag'ln!" " 'Bully rum, bully rum,' sais the frawg, talking through his nose like a temp'rance lect'rer. " 'Bully-rum!' howls Pumpledink. 'Young roan, beware! I for one'il never tech another drop.' An'he sank all in a heap. "They was silence ag'in. 'Whip poor-will!' cries the bird acrosst the clearin'. "Bill straightened up and bellers: 'l'm here, but I ain't the same man.' " " 'Look-clook!' squawks the old hen. " 'To-who-to-who,' sais the owl. " 'Poor-will!' cries the bird acrosst the clearin'. " 'Bully-rum,' croaked the frawg through his nose. "Bill tried to rise, but couldn't. Then from over in the barnyard came: 'Baa-baa-baa." " 'Pad. I knows it pad," he yells in his Dutch way, never recergnizin' the voice of his one-eyed ram. 'But I'll nefer, nefer tecli another drop.' "Then come the stroke that dono Bill Pumpledink clean. It was more'n he could stan'. The bird over acrosst. the clearin' must a moved up a tree, fer he could hear her plain as she broke out real loud: 'Whip-poor-will! " 'Who-who?' calls the old owl, piti ful-like. Pumpledink raised his hanu to his ear to ketch what was said. Right from the limb over his head come the answer: 'Kitty-did, kitty-did.' "He looked up at the limb surprised, but didn't see nothin' but the moon sliinin' down. "Then come agin: 'Who-who?' " 'Kitty-did-Kitty-did, she did.' "Pumpledink rolled off the stump and lay in the grass groanin' in his Dutch-like way: 'Nefer. I'm pretty low, but my wife nefer hed to lick me. Woiees! Woices!' "'Bully-rum-bully-rum,' calls the frawg through his nose, remeinberin' the red tlannel and the fish hook. "I'umpledink didn't know no more. His boy Barnabas hed heard him callin' an' got him home on a wheel barrer. lie's never teched a drop sence." The Chronic Loafer rose to his feet and gazed intently at the Miller, who was trying to avoid his eyes by look ing across the valley. "I must be goin' home," said the Loafer, "ter get in the wood, but I must say thet either you er Bill I'um pledink er Barnabas hes a power o' imagination."—N. Y.Evening Sun. —lf any man think it a small matter, or a mean concernment, to bridle his tongue, he is much mistaken; for it is a point to be silent when occasion re quires, and better than to speak, though never so well.—Plutarch. AN IKDIXGBM HUSBAND. v : n : | J ' ti,., I $ W&m r i |M Wife—Tom could you let me have— Husband —No, I couldn't; I'm busted. $ Wife —Oh, I simply wanted change for this fifty-dollar bill which papa gave me to-day. Husband—Why, sure! here's forty dollars; I'll owe you ten.—Judge. Exchange of C'ompl!nn»nt«. Passenger (alighting from cab)— What's the charge? Cabman —One shilling. Passenger—Well, that's quite reason able. I knew from your face you wouldn't be extortionate. Cabman Thankee. I knew from your face that you'd be too mean to pay more than the legal fare without a lawsuit. —Tit Bits. Unprecedented. Upguardson—l had a singular experi ence last Tuesday. You remember It looked like rain and the weather proph ■ eta predicted rain? Atom —Yes. "Well, 1 brought my umbrella, rain coat, aud rubber shoes down town that morning." "Yes." "Well, It rained.—Chicago Tribune." A KIDNAPING. BY MARY L PENUEEED. mUNT BARBARA sn . I am an unnattirV boy because I do- t care for Sir Walt .• Scott's books. As .! any natural t> • would like anythir : she did! Ivanhoe aud the Talisn r i aren't so bad, but there's a good deal t > much tommyrot about love, and : 1 that sort of thing, in them; besid . yards on yards of what the}' call see:; - painting, or word-painting, which perfectly sickening. Who wants t told that the sky is blue or the gras green? I always skip all that, course: so does everybody—with : sense. But that wasn't what I was going say. It was about a lark we hail o; with old Marston. the chap wh J school-house wo board in Blathi and me —and a fine spree it was. or it was spoilt at the finish by—but I tell you all about it, so's you can for yourself. Marston's wasn't a bad place to 11 in at first. He had just gone and g married, and he was that treacly sw*- you couldn't get his hair up hard He and Mrs. Marston used to look each other fit to make a cat they were so spooney; and, so Jong i us fellows kept a bit up to the mr: he never found fault But all that w; before the "Squaller" came, a horr little brat of a baby that did nothing 1 howl from morning till night It m i have kept old Marston awake half ti. night, for he got so beastly waxy the: was no pleasing him. We all hate that kid, and didn't we just pity Mr Marston. with a crabby husband an< constant screamer to mind! She wasn half a bad sort, herself, and often tc us fellows' parts when there were ru tions; so she didn't deserve to be w. ried as she was. Well, I was going to tell you abe our cave-Blathers' aud mine—a : I that was what made me start about Scott, because it was through reading we went in for the cave. Blathers to )k a paper called The Boy's Own Advi turer, and there was a splendid tale i:» it, much better than anything Sc< ;t ever wrote, about a chap who lived smuggling: and rare larks he had! V o often talked of running away and ta - iug up the smuggling trade, which must be a glorious life for a fellow with any go in him, but we never could save up enough money to pay our rail way fares to the sea. We were in the midlands, you see, and when we got our sere ..s there were always some ticks to pay up at the school tuck shop. But one day Blathers said: "I say, Jonesie, I don't see why wi shouldn't have a smuggler's cave her. 1 in a small way;" and, when I askc<. whereabouts, he pointed to the wooi'. pile that was In a corner of the pa l dock leading out from Marston's ga den. It was a great heap of faggot and clumps stored for firewood, I sup pose, ready for winter. It took its some time to burrow it out and stow the wood away, without anybody sei ing us, and sneaking; but when it was done it really make quite a decent sort of cave, and we smuggled no end of things into it. It was a great satisfaction to have n place where we could go and smok'" when we liked, and we used to smug gle tobacco and cigarettes whenever we got half a chance. The cave ha I quite a store of tobacco in it at last. We never told a soul, though wa wanted to take a rise out of some of the other chaps over it; but it wouldn't have done. One day Blathers said: "We ought to kidnap some one—i if *36= WE I"SET> TO SMUGGLE TOBACCO AND CIGARETTES. girl, if possible, and carry her off. They always do." "Not a girl, Blathers," I said. He laughed in an awful ruffianly manner, and puffed at his pipe. "Why not?" "Oh, they're silly, and take up so much room. Besides, there isn't a girl worth looking at about here—unless Jane would do." Jane was the "Squaller's" nurse. She wasn't bad-looking, so far as I had no ticed. "Jane!" said Blathers, in disgust. "I've not come down to servant girls, thanks." (I forgot to mention that Blathers is older than me; he's nearly fifteen.) There was, as the novels say, "a pro longed pause." Then, suddenly, old Blathers said: "Tell you what—why not the 'Squal er' itself?" I was staggered. "What, kidnap the 'Squaller?'" I cried. "Exactly. It wouldn't take up much room, and tliere'd be no end of sport." I agreed that it was a good idea, but had my doubts about the future. "Suppose anything happened to it. Don't babies' heads roll off when they ain't properly held together? They always seem as if they're not on very tight. I retntmbcr my sister had one, and when I tried to hold it—" "Shut up!" said Blathers, contemptu ously; "I don't want to hear about your sister's kid. There's no fear, Jonesie: babies have uine lives, like cats; and if it did croak, I should think they'd 14 thankful to get rid of it." That settled the matter. The "Squaller's" doom was sealed! We laid our plans artfully. Two days later, when Jane was wheeling the "Squaller" up Gypsy Lane in the perambulator (for a wonder it was asleep—the baby, I mean, not the per ambulator), she heard an awful yell! She was walking along as if to-inor row was a year off, and sort of chew ing the cud, when she saw us fellowt coming down the lano as if Old Nick was after us. "Mad dog! mad dog!" shrieked Blathers, and I holloaed: "Run for your life! Hun—run—run!" Jane gave one awful yelp, and bolted before you could say Jack llobinson. When we could see for laughing, ISlathers snatched up the "Squaller," and we both tore off to the cave as fast as we could pelt. Of course, the little brute woke up and began to squall, but we got it safe in, and nobody saw us. "You must go and smuggle a bottle or something, or I shall never stop it," said Blathers, who was waving the bundle of clothes up and down, till it was a wonder the kid Inside wasn't shaken to a jelly. Lord! how it did yell. I sneaked round to the house, and collared a bottle full of milk that was standing r ylf hady'L ueen ior iiiai i Uou i ucuck- we ever should have shut It up; but It gurgled and gurgled Itself to sleep at last, and weren't we thankful! We made it up a sort of bed with rugs and thing's, and then went back to the house to hsar the fun. Several of the fellows were talking together. "What's up?" asked Blath- IT WAS IS ITS MOTHER'S ASMS. ers, carelessly. "Anything the mat ter?" "Rather," was the answer. baby's lost" "What, the 'Squaller?"' "Yes. There was a mad dog career ing round, so Jane ran away and left the 'Squaller' to it, like a bold fe male. " "There's an awful rumpus Inside." said Thompson, who we always called "Mumps," because of his pudding face. "Mrs M.'s nearly out of her mind, an I the guvnor's gone for a detective." "Why? Did the mad dog eat up the 'Squaller?'" asked Blathers, inno cently, "Nobody knows. It's disappeared, anyhow," said "Mumps." I daren't say a word for fear of laughing, "Is anybody looking for the poor lit tle thing?" inquired Blathers, sol emnly I nearly burst! "No end of people; all the place, I should fancy," said another fellow. "I think we'd better go and offer our services, Jones, don't you?" re marked Blathers to me, with the most awful wink you ever saw. "I always was fond of that baby, and who knows but we might find it. Come along." We went down the corridors to Mrs. Marston's sitting-room and knocked at the door. There was no answer, so we walked in. "Oh, if you please, Mrs. Marston," began Blathers and stopped. She looked up and the sight of her face was a caution. I declare I shouldn't have known her! Her eyes were all red and wild, with black marks under them, and her face was quite old-looking and awful. She pressed her liads together, and said: "Oh, boys, boys, I've lost my baby, my darling!" Without a word Blathers and I got out of that room as fast as ever we could scuttle. We ran like hare# to the cave. I got there first, and snatched up that wretched baby. In five minutes it was in its mother's arms. You should have seen her face. I never heard anything like the way she went on over that blessed infant. All that fuss about a squalling baby! However, it was a good lark at the start, and I shouldn't so much have minded the finish, only—what do you think she did? She said: "You dear boy!" put her arms round iny neck, and actually nad the cheek to kiss me —right before Blathers, too. I did feel a foolt Blathers roasts me about it to this day. He says she daren't have kissed him, but I know better. She'd have idssed the most blackguardly looking ruffian of a smuggler that ever pirated on the high seas, If he'd brought her back her precious "Squaller"!—ldler. The Girl* Took It All. Marie—l sever could understand how it is people say the Franklin girls got it 11 their beauty from their mother. Fred—l dare say it's true. They cer tainly haven't left her much.—lllus trated Bits. —The most harmonious and culti vated Indian language is tfiid to be the Araucanian. Such pains are taken to preserve its purity that even a preacher will be rebuked by his audience for n h!« vorrntnn THEN THE FIGHT BEGAN. "Me man hasn't touched a drap fern wake." "Yla; Ol heard that Casey had stopped his credit." —Judge. Phonograph* In the Future. Mother —What in the world shall wo do? Our son cannot afford to marry, yet he Is determined on It. Father—l'll fix him. The very next night he comes in late, I'll start that Id phonograph to screeching out some of your midnight talks to me. —N. Y. Weekly. Z»loiu Officer. Officer MoWart—llere, now I It la agin the law to ride thot wheel ahn the sidewalk. Beginner—But I'm not riditog; I'm only trying to. "Be jabers, thin, Oi will run ye in for fivin' an akkyrobatic exhibition wld out a license."— Cincinnati Tribune. Got Daylight Through It. Clubby—Did you know that Weggy actually put a bullet through his head ast night? Willie—Weallyl I thought that he vas particularly rational this nrorning vhen I met him. —N. Y. World. Srandaloui. Ilojack—Did you hear how Skidmore disgraced his family at church last .Sunday? Tomdik—No; how was it? Ilojack—The minister read two chap ters from the Acts, and he insisted on ;oiug out between them. —Judge. Why They tame Late. Husband fin hat and overcoat) —Good gracious! Haven't you got your coat on yet? Wife—lt's all fixed, except tucking ia my dress sleeves so they won't get mussed. I'll be ready in half an hour. - ?/. V. '.Vi»V'- A I.aot Knort. Elder Berry—Dr. Thirdly has prayed f. »r rain until he is clear discouraged. Mrs. Berry—What is he going to do about it? Klder Berry—Name an early date for •.ne Sunday school picnic.—N. Y. World. BEES FORM FRIENDSHIPS. Kiyerlrur* of a Young Man to Wli. m They Took a Liking. "I al ways loved bees,'' said the you f man tn gold-bowed glass*", behind the dairy counter as he handed down a honeycomb for the Inspection of a:j idle customer. "When I was on th.j farm." he continued. "I could go all about the hives and not get stung, a 1 none of the others dared go near the bees. We used to have an old farm r come around and tend to the swarm% but one day when 1 was a boy work ing in the fields I heard a great hum ming noise up in the air and saw t swarm a-comin g. Well, I picked up i tin pan that was there and hammer -1 on it till the bees settled on the end a fence rail. Then I thought I eou I tend to the swarm as well as the o 1 farmer, so I got an old hive, washed out with honey and water, rubbed n hands and arms with burdock jui • and honey water and went at the bees. I got them off that rail by th» handful and they never stung me. "After that I regalarly tended t.• the bees. Whenever there was i swarm I rolled up my sleeves, took c' v my shoes and hat and went at them. I have taken them from all sorts of places, but I was stung only once. They'd light on my head by the doze, and crawl through my hair. Tha used to send cold chills down my back Sometimes my arms were so covere I with bees that from wrist to elbow you couldn't see the tlesh. The one thii. when I was stung I had found a swar:: on a high limb and was sawing it of and at the same time holding on tu it so that it should not fall to the ground with the bees. In doing this I squeezed one of the bees and it fiev straight at my temple and stung me just above the eye. Since I left the farm the folks have given up the bee business. There's no doubt about it, bees like some folks and hate others, and I don't know any reason for th-> difference."—N. Y. Sun. MYTHS ABOUT BEES. A Mlnnmota Farmer DUpels a Number of Popular Illusions. Bees, said Farmer William Russell to a reporter for the Minneapolis Trib une, are just like human beings. Whe: they are busy they are virtuous an' peaceable; but when in Idleness they become vicious, given to foolish actions that dissipate the strength of the colo nies and make the work of the bee keeper twice as arduous. Last yeai the season ran so that the bees wen busy all the time. The blossoms cam in rotation and the bees always hau something to do. They made honey very fast and the business was pros perous. This season there has been less hone\ to gather and the beet, with nothing t. busy themselves upon, have devoteii their time to frolic and idleness. The old rhyme, " How doth the busy bee Improve each shining hour—" is all nonsense. The bee* are marvels of thrift and industry when they have work to do, but they can be quite as foolish as men. The talk of the "idle drone" is an other foolishness that has crept into the language through ignorance. The drone is the male bee. He has no buai ness to gather honey; his function is altogether different and quite as im portant as that of the worker, lie is the father of the hive, and when his work lias been performed he is killed off as useless. A PRACTICAL COOP. Can Be Made In a Few Minutes from a Dry Goods Box. The chicken coop illustrated here with is both practical and easily made. It is a dry goods box, which can bo purchased anywhere for a few cents, with a roof of light boards, the gable ends of the roof being simply slatted to give ventilation, which is very much needed in a chicken coop in warm weather. Two of the boards on one side of the roof are arranged as a door to give access to the interior. The can be cleaned by scraping the litter on the floor out through the lit tle door in the corner. Such coop# are easy to make, cheap, easy to keep clean, and afford healthy quarters for the chicks. —Webb Donnell, in Country Gentleman. AMONG THE POULTRY. DON'T trust the hired man or boy to look after the chickens. They will neglect them. If you want the poultry attended to properly do it yourself. Do SOT let the chicks roost on small roosts while they are young. If they roost before their breasts become firm and hardened, they will be sure to have crooked breast bones. EXPERIENCE is a great school in poultry raising, and the mistakes are guideposts to keep every one in line, (let all the experience you can and avoid making the same mistakes twice, and then you will be on the road to a profitable success. AT this season of the year, when there is an unlimited range, care will l>e necessary to observe, by liberal feeders, not to overfeed the fowls. There will be little or no danger of overfeeding the chicks, as it takes all tliey can fret to furnish them bone, muscle, feathers and flesh. Tus success of many a man in the poultry business, both commercially and from a fancier's standpoint in show records, is due to women, who tret no credit They have been the power behind the throne many a time when men have received the honora.— Prairie Farmer. The De Jam. Mrs. De Jarr—You forget, sir, that you are married to a woman of educa tion. lam mistress of many tongues. >lr. De Jarr—But not of your own.— N. Y. Weekly. Female Aaienltlee. "Are you going to the Browns' 'o Cause for Anxiety. Hotel Proprietor —What did Mrs. Jones say when she saw that woman here whom she quarreled with so much last summer? Clerk—She tried hard to repress a smile of satisfaction.— Brooklyn Life. Ills Future Destination. Jones— Bahl I hate your pipes and cigarsl 1 never smoked in all my lifel Smith—You'll begin when vou die, though, won't you? —N. Y. World. To Mr. Hen peek. Oh. thankless man, prsy why complalnf KM not your «aln been »reatf Think, you hsve found a captain, whan Tou merely sought a mate. —Truia. ISTo 31 THE ROCKING CHAIR. ■ aid to He Beneficial la CMN of Dj»- pepel*. "Critics of America," said a well known physician, "have poked fun at us for being a nation of rockers. Amer icans have been pictured as sixty mil lions of persons seated in sixty millions of rocking chain—some of them cra dles, of course. But now comes Dr. Laine, a French West India physician, who savs it is good,for us. Ne has been talking of what he calls 'the good effects that the lullaby chair exer cises on subjects affected with atony of the stomach.' Atony is want of tone. "Laine says that a course of rocking chair after each meal, the oscillations being quiet and regular, 'stimulates gastro-intestinal peristaltism,' and that dyspeptics should take notice. The chair ought to be light, so that rocking requires no and sufficiently in clined backward that the person may lie rather than sit In it. Physicians will agree that Dr. Laine has done Americans a real service. It has always been rather difficult to explain the na tional passion for the rocking chair, but now it is only too easy. Americans are the worst sufferers from indigestion and dyspepsia in the world, but it now appears that we have Instinctively rushed to what is now proved to be the best system of relief. "The man who lunohes on pie and then balances himself in a ro.'lcing chair is unconsciously doing his Wst to stimulate his gastro-intestinal peristalt ism; ho is practically singing a lullaby to his outraged and injured stomach, which is kept from crying aloud only by this method of soothing it. Behold in America a nation of invalids vainly, endeavoring to rock themselves to sleep. Dr. Laine's theory is too good not to be true." PHONOGRAPH DESORIBED IN 1860 The Frenchman Who Did It Was Consid ered Crazy. A few months ago while amusing my self with Cyrano de Bergerao's Historic Comlque des Etats et Empires de la Lune et du Soltel (Paris, I waa amazed, says a writer in Poptilar Solenoe Monthly, to come across the matter quoted below,which surely foreshadows the phonograph as closely as do Bacon'a words the steamship and railway. The. author, De Bergerac, is on a voyage over the moon. Left alone a little while by his guide the latter give* him, to help him while away the hoar, some books to read. The books, however, are different from any seen on earth. They are, in fact, little boxes, which Cyrano thus describes: "On opening one of these boxes I' found I know not what kind of metal' (apparatus) similar to our clockwork, composed of I know not how many lit tle devices and imperceptible machin ery. It was a book, certainly, but a most marvelous one, which has neither leaves nor characters; a book to under stand which the eyes are useless—one needs only to use his ears. When he wishes to read this book he connects it by a sort of little nerve to his ears. Then he turns a needle to the chapter he wishes to hear, and immediately there emerges from the instrument, aa from the mouth of man, or from a musical instrument, all the words and sounds which serve the Grands Lun aires for language." I will say, further, that Cyrano an ticipated many of the inventions and conceptions of modern aeronauts. No wonder that h« was considered by his contemporaries as "somewhat off." WASHBURNE'S PREDICAMENT. Had to Stand In HU Stocking Feet at a French Court Dinner. When Elihu Washburne was United States minister to France there was a court dinner given at the palace of the Tuilleries one night by the emperor, Napoleon 111., says the Cincinnati. Times-Star. It was the custom at these dinners when the empress arose to re tire with the ladies for the gentlemen to rise from their seats and step back, so that the ladles should pass down the line between them and the table. By this all could avoid turning their backs on the empress. Mr. Washburne had very tender feet. During the dinner they had given him a great deal of an noyance, and to ease himself he bad clipped off his patent leather pumps. He was absorbed in conversation at the close of the dinner and was caught un iwares when the empress made the sig nal for departure. Mr. Washburne was obliged to 6tep back without his pumps. There he stood in his stocking feet, (rave, dignified and self-po6sessed in the row of grinning diplomats to his right and left. He betrayed none of. the embarrassment he must have felt, and was never heard to allude to the incident. Fled from a Rat. A Larkin street restaurant in San Francisco was nearly wrecked recently by a most peculiar incident. As it was the noon time, business was lost for at least one day. The proprietor, who had been out on the 6treet somewhere, went to a closet, donned his black alpaca coat and started to wait on a couple of ladies. He drew a napkin from the coat pocket to brush a crumb from the table cloth, when out jumped u rat nearly as big a 6 a ground hog. The women were on the table in a sec ond. Men upset chairs and tables try ing to stamp on the animal, but it escaped all the blows aimed at it and hased around and around the place looking for some avenue of escape for fully five minutes. By the time the restaurant cat woke up and caught the rat the place was a sorry wreck and half the patrons had disappeared. Oave It the Preference. At a recent large country wedding all the carriages far and near were en gaged to convey the guests to the sta tion and the various country houses to the bridal reception. "I am sorry, ma'am," said the village undertaker, to whom one of the perplexed hostesses had applied in despair for a couple of coaches, "but we had to put off two funerals to-day on account of this wed din'l" A Short VUlt. Mrs. Newwed—lf we wait until the twelve o'clock train, we won't get to mother's until eleven o'clock at night, and she'll be asleep by that time. Mr. Newwed Well, then we can leave our cards and take the next train hack. —S. Y. Weekly. Evfolnf at the Summer R«#ort. Ada—Matters are growing serious between the new boarder and Miss Brown. Blanche—Yes; they are on the bal cony now. It is a case of two souls with but a single chair.—Puck Soon to lie Shattered. "I hear that you are engaged to a girl with an ideal. You are likely to find that sort of a girl pretty hard to l-et along with." "Oh, I guess I am all right. You ,ee. I am the ideal."—Cincinnati Trib une. A Oenerous Defect. Theatrical Manager—That's a witty line vou've got in the third act of this farce of yours. Playwright (contritely)— l assure you. sir, it's purely accidental. I'll cut it out at once.—Chicago Record. An Important Questloa. Clara (on a bicycle)— Ethel, dear, I have a question I want to ask you. Ethel— Yes, Clara. Clara —Are my bloomers on straight! —Judge.