VOL* xxxv { Mrs. J. E. ZTMMERMAN. ' + -i•+.+ !» •;* FOR AUGUST i I We have dec'ded to allow July C!ea ance Sale prices to remain oa LADIES READY-TO-W^«R SUITS, SHIRT WAISTS, WF.APPIRS AND MUSLIN UN3SRW2AR during this month; a!so o x all SU-aIHIS L I LINJLRY. We are de termined to clear all "h'si Bcpsr!:r c of Sunaiei Goods before the arrival oi' Fall and Wintrr Wear, if Price will move them. We h?vc no': spared the knife—still further cuts all through these Departments. New fan J*! 6SS biuuiiS cUiu shks. We have received our first shipment of new styles in Dress Goods for *he season of 1C92-29, consisting of llegpnt Black Creponz, Covert Cloth, Pov-lm and Gran t."; Clo hs; also a beau'jiful seleei'on of Fancy Sil :s in the new Fall Designs for the stylish silk waist every lady now has in her wardrobe. For those who co-iem lite a late summer trip, or are gett' g ready to go away to r choo", we have what Sou need—a fail line of N„.W IUR COLLARLTTES. Ail ew Fall and Winter Designs. MRS J E. ZIMiIEMN. i < HE IS A WISE HAN \ H € —WHO SECURES HIS CLOTHING FROM - I 1 $ J.S. YOUNG, f THE MEItCHAXT TAILOR, # # f # # : Tim goods, style, lit and general make a \ up of liis suits 5 \ TELL their own STGF(Y. \ " - jf '' ■ I ! , / A \ $ Men won't buy clothing for tic purpose! s «i l / 1 '& of spending money. 'i'he> desire to get the I A J V J. besi iksfcible refills for the money expend* •' N ;f /J U) ed. Not cheap goods hut goods as cheap as * s'< j _(E I —~*l >(n they can he fold a .id made up propeily- If I ! ' \ ' \l I— -J" y! >'<»u want the correct thing at tlie correct \L/ "7 ftprice call on us, we nave teduced our spring i / -- » ai d SLUIU: r goods down to make room for | j \ 1 l ' ur ljei * v y Wt'gf't goods, ;£ . - • 'ii 'l* I Fits Guaranteed. . • u » * i I ii 4 [ f 1 IX 1 Merchant Tailor, r . IV©CKf 142 V. Main St., Butler | The New Cambridge, * Formerly New Cambiidge House.) CAMBRIDGE SPRINGS, PA., Wircb, after the d : sastrous fir •of a icar aj;o, is now opened in la'ger and bt iter shape for the accotrniodation of guests in search of ueallh and pleasure, presents itself to its former butler patrons as tlie most -Je.sir.ible hotel in which to locate when at Cambridge Springs. Krer bus to and from all train* ?nd springs. Public • rooms ore of large size and well lighted, including office, dining room, bath rooms, billiard room a.id howling a ley. Chamber* wi b private baths and toilets and everything tiiat tends to make a home-like and comfortable resort, '-.r rate. apply to HAGGERTY & WHITE, Proprietors. ** Cambridge Springs. Pa. ; iPape sros, JEWEIa€RS. We Will Save You Money On ; Si!;e. Aare, 1347 Redder Bros. I Plaieware and Sterling Silver^ < Goods. < Our Repair Department takes ill all kinds of Watches, Clacks and Jewelry, etc 122 S. Main St. Old jjold and silver taken the same as cash. House Cleaning Time is h.te and the War against Hrgs, Moths • • Warren A .E.. Chicago, 111. ELV's Cream 15.1LM ifi the acknowledged j cur - for catarrh and contains no cocaine, mercury nor ANY INJURlOUS &0 ceuti. At DNIRYISTS or by mail. VICTORy A 1 < ays crowns our efforts to secure the handsomest RT:d 'most correct thing in 'Men's Dress at all season's of the year. There's a fresh, bright Fparkle of style aliout our spring patterns, the hind that has snap ami art iu it. We cater to .the economical man because our cloth'.s give a doltar of service for every dollar paid. Let ns show you the kind of a suit we make for $25. ALAND, MAKER OF MEN'S . LOTHEb Greai Shoe Sale J ' At C E. Uliller's. Arc you in ths market for good footwear cheap. This is to be a great month at our store. Summer shoes and slippers must go and if you are needing any call while the selection is large. Red Hot Prices. Mfn'H Tan Hioos SMO. sl.4*. fl.iw Ml'ii* Isuif !!.«. I.l*l. !"I KAII'M Working HIIOCM I . 1.1 '• I VVn s l« Hi<; I.*". 1..0 Ladl ■ I hi« fi IMf . I 1». I : • L.i'tj«">* OX.'oml T i •. 7<. i;> I Ladles' s«*rgc lip-,; :■» li<»ys' I'liM* IJuff > *•,. , .. ' •, I I Vouth'M rim* ISuflT Hhoi's .. UH We Hold Noising sac!i. Sell shoes is our watch word. All summer shoes must go. This will L»e a nion'li long to be remembered by those wno attend this sale. Reprir'iig Dane Promptly. C-EIiLLER. D. L. CLEELAND, > \ Jeweler and Optician, > < 125 S. Main St., ) Butler, Pa. / I C. SELIGMAN & SON, JTAIIORS.J No. 4!o W. Jeffarson St., Butler, Pa. A lii •• of lati-,t Kort-lKii and UoiiK'iil-r >,,ilSiil?s always in sliwk. , ... , I It. M>!• u. ! ork to |{lfi' sal IsfiM'tlon. ; PRICES REASONABLE. OIL PtiEAL ' ~ L'N .1 for If < : . Covrt ffn -S, I'owls ETC. IH . .• '!l:nd I r ;«• I ower to iiuin: I' >. AMI JI U 1 'A It? ("ivajjest li I d in T!Ime vc v L I. \7;»:ofc;r tiurclri r. t'lti rn 1.!.: d oil or n.' *l* ami while lo -i. . for i or addreiM m ni;" '"turer. TliU I l*r<)S &U., I."J W Ulaoiund btrwt Allegheny. I'a. r i VOU CAiv MND ft Y ' I'lTTSaffc'O 2t «•.•> A«* ' RL.MTIV. J . L FFL y 'A..* Agwp ■ SLEatI'JSTGTOir BEOS. -*» Ttrrrtv* »D»»RAT ARE ALL OUR HEROES DEAD? They did r.ot ft?nt a.» other soldiers. When we fired a vo'.l<=y they advanced ln stead o: going back. The more we tired the nearer they came to us. We are not used to tlgh'.rg with men who act so.—State ment of u Spanish prisoner taken during Wood's charge. Jur.e 24, ISSB. Can they (foreigners) r.ot see that men do not tight :.ki. this Cn our civil war) for a mere shoptill? —James Russell I.owell. Are all our heroes dead? Is American courage fled? Men told cs so Three months ago. Ere the word of "war" was said. Are our city boys all dudes— Sh >pkeepera. weaklings, prudes? Men told us so Three months ago. Ar.d warned us 'gainst all fends. Are they "holiday soldiers" all— Just for dre»» parade ar.d bail— With thsir g ::.s so bright And their suits 90 "tight." As they spring to the bugle-call? Do th» sons of this Yankeescd AU worship the dollar god? We have- hoard for years These foreigners' sneers At the land of pork ar.d cod. Ah! stand on this Cuban dune On the twenty-fourth of June. And see Wood's men (And their actions then), And you'll sing a different tune. Hear the shriek of each Mauser ball! See one out of ten men fall! With never a chance For a single glance At the foe, with i'Ji cuckoo call. See "Teddy" Boosevelt's "fops" As they spring through the chaparral uops! Mere "knights of the pen"— Mere football men— These lads whom th« lead ne'er stops. See O'Xeill march down the line! See Capron's saber »h!ne! With never a halt 'Neath the leader; salt. They spring toward the hidden line. See the awe-struck Spaniards run! H-»r the "pop" of each Yankee gun! Mark the total rout; Hear the victors shout In the struggle so wel' begun. Bee the trench, with Its forty dead. With that "dude." Fish, at the head! Ah! "dudes" like these Shall have knights' degrees In the roll by Washington led. See Holaon's Immortal eight As they enter hell's yawning gate While the great guns' yells Sound their funeral knells- Till they rise, in spite of fate. Ah. Lowell was right when hi said Of our heroes then living and dead , That men don't fight Like that for the right To deal in bacon and bread. "Tis a lie, that we worship gold! 'Tis a lie, that our courage Is cold! Let the carpers that sneered Ar.d said that we feared Forever thtir silence hold. —J. Scott Clark. In Chicago Evening Post. j COULD BE HAPPY YET) I The Old Mountaineer HaJ Had a f Troublesome Time. > WHILE making a trip through the mountains of eastern Kentucky last summer I stopped ODe day under the inviting shade of a thick-headed beech to rest aad cool my horse. Soon I heard a soft, measured tramp, tramp iu the thick dust of the road, and, looking up, beheld an old man approaching my shade, his chin against his breast. He came up, said: "Howdy, stran ger," took a seat close by my side aod *u- lil.-.l tUrl, He took out uls jaekknife and nerv ously whittled his right shoe sole a few seconds, then closed the knife again, rammed it back in his pocket and looked around at me with an ex pression of desperate agony. ".Mister," he began, after a sighing pause, "I'm in a heap o' trouble this 'ere day. Hit's the tip-top of a moun t'in of trouble that's bin a-pilin' up fer the last 15 years. I'm jist out huntin' fer some one to help me let loose of it a little. I'm a-gittin' white all inised up in the black of my hair, an' I can't stand up under things as I could when there was more sap in my timber. I want you to advise me what to do —yon are a pirty peart lookin' little bow-legged feller." "Well, tell me your trouble, and I'll put in a hand if I can help you any," I said, smiling. "Wall, about 15 jears ago me an' Tom Snodgrass, a near neighbor of mine, went away off down ter Cin cinnati to sell a lot of fox an' coon skins. "Wall, we wanted to have er little time arter we sold our skins, an' so we got to rnakin' hog-troughs outen our stomachs by pourln' a lot of stump water-lookin' stuff*in 'em called lego beer. Not bein' use ter any thing wuss than moonshine whisky we soon tfot so ediotically drunk that we couldn't tell our own names. "Wall, when the sunlight o' sense begin to rise on our inteliecks ag'in I found every vent of my coon-skin money was gone. I was busteel. So I sez to Tom: 'Tom,' sez I, 'l'll have ter borry a leetle speck o' your money ter git deck passage biick on a boat home.' "Tom hesertated a leetle while, then sed: 'Bill, I ain't no Wall street my se'f, but, by gum! I'm a man, Bill— a man clear through from rhync to rliyne an' I'll be cuEsed cf I don't let you have 50 cents. Lots o' fellers, ye know, wouldn't do it, Bill. When a man's down lots o* fellers tries to keep his face in tlie clay, but it ain't Tom Snodgrass—nary time. Here's the stuff, by tfully!' "I took the'money as a bat takes a fly, an' Bed, sez I: Tom, this thing don't stop here. You are puilin' me outin a mighty tight place, an' I'll remember the favor while there's oil in my lamp. No difference what you want outln me hereafter, all yo've got to do is to holler fer it an' je git it.' "Wall, about three months arter we got back Tom comes to ine just as the ran was sfjnattln' down behind a hill an sez: 'Bill, that ar o' yourn —SnriMa Jane—she's ahont the nicest piece o* Temernlne furniture in tries*, 'ere hills, an' I've decieled I want to add her to the attrackshuns o' my brand-new log house.' "'I can't do it. Torn,' I sed, 'the fack is, the gal is about to hook up an' make a team with John Stacey. They are to trot off together next week.' "'I can't hep that. Bill,' he said, lookin' nt me with an eye full of tears, *1 got my heart sot on the gal an' can't git it off. You must give her to me at once. I don't want to throw up nuthin' to you, Bill, but you know what ye sed when I let ye have that 60 cents.' " 'You shall have her,' I sed, docidcd lv. '1 never go back on a feller that pulled me outin hot water when the skin was about to slip. Come over to morrer an' j,'it her.' "The ffal loved Stncey, an' so, when 1 tole h> r about the new arrangement, she filled her apron full o' tears, an' sent home Stace>'s picter an' hanker cher. She married Tom, poor thing. "My wife soon died, an' then my pal —Tom's wife—mixing the grief of her distasteful marriage with the death of her mother, wilted away like a cut vine, an' died herself two months later. "I soon married again, gittin' one of BUTLER PA., THURSDAY, ALTGITST 2.">. 3SOH the pirtieat pals in the settlemint, be sides the best sang difrger in the coun ty. I was gittln'along fine—bavin'no work to do arter gittin" such a stout, HAI'I'ILY WATI'IILVO Ml WIFF. PI/JW. vvillin' gal. l!ut Tom was still alive and full o' memory, an' my paradise ! soon had a flaming sword at its gate. He cum to me one day when I was i settin' on the field fence happily ! watcbin' my wife plow. He looked at her for a long time, an' his mouth | begun to water. He sed: 'Bill, that's j a piece o' furniature out thar that j would look mighty well in my empty house. Let me have her.' " 'Can't do it, Tom,' I said. 'l'd be i all broke up without her. I can't let ' you have the last wife I've got.' " 'ls it possible. Bill,' he began, his j lower jaw loose, an' his eyes spillin' 1 tears. 'Can it be that you've forget my noble ack to you when ye stood \ lielple.-8 an' busted in Cincinnati? Oh, j Bill! Bill! it can't be. it can't be, that i you've forgot me lettin' you have that ; 50 cents!' "That was a fetcher, an' he'knowed | it would be. Wall, the upshot of it j was that we went to the old gal an' i laid the case in front of her. She ! kicked aguinst the proposition at fust, but soon gentled off. The next day Squire Manning divorced me an' her an' married lier an' Tom. "But the worst his come now, stran ger. He come to me this morning an' demanded my prize coon dog—a dog i that cost me a barrel o' moonshine 1 whisky an' the revolver I shot Craig < Toliver with. I don't know w hat to do j I hate to go back on a man who trot ted forward to my relief in time of need, an' loaned me !>0 cents; but, mis ter, arter all the sacerfices I've made. I don't think he orter demand —I don't see how he can have the heart to ax me to give up the best coon dog that ever yelped at the root of a tree! Tell me what to do!" "Well, it seems simple enough tome; suppose yon pay him back the 50 cents and get rid of him?" A sf-mphic light overspread his brow and flowed down and filled the hills and hollows of his jagged old face. "Wall, stranger, by "gosliins! Why didn't I think o' that before! Gal went, wife follercd; all on account of not bavin' any thought or a friend to advice, but I'll not mourn now, for with him paid up an' coon dog left 1 can be happy yet!"—Lf iiisvilleCourler- Journal. Fnliln for Ilrld^n. O. " Ac n'-l hiil \x r\ nrl^»* linui minr brides will be patriotic enough, nghl in the face of tradition and conven tionality, to eschew the time-honored orange blossoms. At any rate, there's a tegend going the rounds to the effect that this prized blossom is thoroughly Spanish, an African king having in the dim past presented a magnificent tree, loaded with creamy, fragrant, waxen blossoms, to the Spanish court. Out siders begged in vain for branches of this famous plant and used any num ber of ruses to gain them. So carefully were they guarded, however, that for a long time not one got away. But at last the fairdaughter of thecoiirt gar dener sold one her father had given her to a foreign ambassador, receiving in return her "dot" and breaking off another branch for herself. Kver since that wedding day orange blos soms have been considered a fitting | ornament for a bride. Let us hope her treachery didn't lose her father bis head. — Philadelphia Record. Nmiiemlr Flelitinw. "It must have been a desperately fought battle," said Mrs. Ooldsboj-ough. as she laid down the paper. "Tell me about it,"* replied Mr. Gold*- brrough. "The commanding general had sever bicycles punctured under him."—N. Y Journal. Well Snl wid dat mule, chile?" "Ise gwine sell hit to Uncle Sam." "What h<; gwlne do wid it?" "He gwine to send it to Cuby, to kick dem Spanish forts to pieces."—J,'. Y. Ledger. A. Word to Lovers. You may br«ath» her name in blissful dreams, Vou m«.y wrlto ht-r love-lorn sonnets, But you won't know Just how dear she Seuma Till yop I,yy her jiata and bonnets. "IT'S NOT MY WAY." "It's r.ot mv way." Hotv often ;s this heard. "it's coi m.v way, to ;peak the kindly word, 1 feci inougn, but 'tis r.oi well to speak. To tell my loving out It seems so weak." i "It's r.ot my way." j How often hearts have broken Ilecau* the loving word has been un spoken ; Beeau-? the smile we lookfd for was a frown. The har.d lf>»t should uplift, but held us down. j "It's r.ot my way. To speak the word that craving love re quires. To voice approval, foster vair. desires." Hearts often faint ar.d fallout by the way, Because to speak is not your way. j "It's not my way." Ah well, when Death shall come. And touch the bee; -loved Hps and make them dumb, i Sad w ill It be for you, if grim resret And stern remorse upon your heart strings set Their fingers firm; i Because li Is their way. to torture ar.d to I wring. Then you'll remember every little thing, The mile you did not give, the word un spoken. Which might have glided life ar.d kept a j heart unbroken. Aye. then you will remember; • And in blood sweat and agony will say: i "Would it had been my way ! To love, approve, and tell it out. JO meet For it was you that made my life com- I plete." | —Hose See lye-Miller, in N. Y. Observer. j j A LITTLE DIPLOMACY j f By J. J. BELL. j, * * AT OU mentioned that you were go j[ :ng to call upon your cousin," 1 observed Jim, as we walked along. "Yes; you better join me," said I. "No, thanks, old man. But Heaven ; knows 1 wish I could," he sighed rather than spoke. "What's the worry, Jim? You never I were serious about Connie, were you?" "Wasn't I?" "H'm! Well, to my knowledge, it's months since you were last ut the house. But —" "I say, Tom," he interrupted, "I wish you would put ill a good word forme." I "Eh?" said I, rather staggered. "Look here; it's this way. Connie : and I were chums for a long time, as ! you know, and I almost believe we would have becorry; more than friends if we hadn't had a quarrel. Oh! it was nothing', really, but Connie wouldn't make it up. And now when we meet she won't speak to me." "Dear, dear!" I murmured, with sympathy. "Have you tried writing to her?" "Yes; once." "Any reply?" "My own letter," he said, shortly. "I'm afraid, Jim, that your matter for disagreement amounted to more than you care to tell me." "Well," said my friend, "the thing was nothing to begin with, but some how it got exaggerated." "Come away; let's hear about it," (said I, pneouraffingly. Jirn groaned. "It began about Violet Hastings. I know I did behave like an ass there once, and Connie found out, and then I discovered a previous small romance of Connie, and between the two- oh, bandit! there's no use talk "l'm afraid you are most to blame, Jim. It was terribly foolish of you to find out anything about Connie." We hail halted at the corner of the ter race. "Of course, I've blamed myself ever since," said Jim, humbly. "But will you, Tom, for the sake of old friend ship, do me a good turn? Find out if she cares at all —If I may see her again." Then he burst out almost roughly; "You can saj - I love her. if you lik<\"' "Softly, Jim, softly. I think yon mean what you say, but Connie's a dear little prirl, and I don't want to make any mistakes. I must consider." Jim was beginning again to protest his affection, but I held out my hand. "Will you be round to see me to night?" I asked him. "Thanks, I'll be glad. But, T say, old man—" However, I did not wait to let him continue. Jim's a good man; be and I are like brothers. Connie's a good little woman—in fact, I— But, never mind. When I arrived at her abode I found her alone in the drawing-room. It is not an unusual occurrence, this finding her alone, and it is, perhaps, the only time when I am glad to be lie r cousin. By the time I bad fin ished my first cup of tea, I had made up my course of action with regard to Jim's affair; but it was a delicate matter. In any case, I would offer no advice to my cousin. Experience had shown me that my five years'seniority bad no value In her estimation. "By the way, Connie," I began, hold ing out my eggshell for more tea, "I met a man to-day." "How you surprise me!" she ob served, flippantly. "I met a mun," I went on, steadily, "who, when I invited him to join me In paying my respects to you, abso lutely refused—absolutely refuse*!." Connie regarded me pityiugly. "No doubt, being a man, be had work to do." "No," said I. "He was a literary man." "Oh, indeed," she remarked, a trifle suspiciously, as she handed nic my re plenished cup. Then she remarked: "You have been out of town lately?" "Yes; and the first person I met on my return to-day was this literary man. Funny thing, bis refusing to call with me; I even thought of of fering to let him come in my sfead." "If you bail dared," she exclaimed. Recollecting herself, she added, cold ly, "I dQii't know what you are talking about." "Well. I've been falklnif some non sense, but now I'll give you the truth." i sipped my tea and continued: "The fact is, I have just left Jim Lawrence. I had an idea that he was on bis way to call here, but 1 think be understood from my manner that be bad better not." "V'eiu weren't rude, Tom?" —anxious- ly- "lmpossible. Butl knew you couldn't be bothered with him; be has become such an idiot of late." "You shouldn't speak so of a friend of yours," said Connie, reproachfully. "Ob, Jie is a thoroughly ffood sort, tint ho has annoyed his friends dread fully by throwing away his chances with Violet Hastings. Why, what with her money and her father's influence, Jim would have been made for life. Besides, V£is such n charming R1 rl." "Mr. Lawrence," remarked Connie, timidly, "used sometimes to strike me as a man who scarcely knew his own mind." "Hitfht, quite rlffht! That's Just Jim. Take again the instance of Vio let. Jim has simply fallan in love with some one else. It may last this time; but I hope not." "But, surely, Tom, you dont be lieve in marrying for money?" "My dear Connie, do not let uspes romantic." She blushed slig'htly. I felt encouraged t« go on. "Yes; I'm doinp my level best to convince him of his folly and send him on the way he should go. He is coming to see ine to-night, when I must speak to him , seriously." "Do you think it is wise to inter i fere?" put in my cousin, hurriedly. "Well, you sec, I've got an inkling that the girl he c::res for won't look at him. and it is exactly at such a time that a man's heart may be turned back to its o'eler flame." "Still, Tom," with a shade of indig nation. "it's none of your business." "Oh. but it is. Connie. Jim and I arc o!d pals, and I'm not poing to have hiai moping nbout as he is at present." "Do you thinls he really cares—cares fur the —the girl who won't look at him?" What a humble little voice foe Ccnniel "The thing is obvious enough, I'm sorry to ? y. Indeed, my dear old Jim is an unmitigated ass." "He's not!" "So!" Directly upon this startling contra diction my cousin began to pour tea into a cup for nobody in particular. A third of the bevaroge found its way into the saucer. I stirred my tea, which had grown co!d. and smiled sad ly during the awkward pause. "I once knew a girl," I resumed, "who fell in love, and for a long time behaved very fdbllshiy." No remark from Con nie. "I once knew a girl," I continued, "who pot a chance of putting matters right between her lorer and herself, and —" "Did she take it?" Inquired my cousin, bending' to pick a microscopic crumb from the floor. "I haven't heard," I said, solemn ly. looking out of the window. Presently I rose and smoothed my hat carefully. "You're looking a bit "DO YOU THINK HE REALLY <""AKES?" pale, Connie," I observed. "Not feel ing quite up to the mark?" . "Oh dear, no! I'm feeling splendid. You know I never hael much color." "Take care of yourself, then. Good bye. Don't mind ringing; I know the way downstairs." "Good-bye, Tom," she said. Her hand was quite cold, and her inouth looked wistful. "Good-bye,*' I said again, and turned to the door. I was half way downstairs when she called me back. rencc you might tell him I iiave« book of his to return to him—the first time he calls." She spoke so coolly that I quitted her, feeling altogether puzzled. In the liall I discovered I had left a glovo in the drawing-room, and, annoyed with myself, I ascended the stairs once more. The door Iftid been care fully closed and it opened to me with out a sound. I spied my glove lying on the chair where I had been sitting, but something prcventeel me making across the room to possess myself of my property. Instead, I shut the door very softly and hurried from the house. I still have a memory of a girl lying on a sofa with lier face burieel in the cushions, with her shoul ders moved with a great emotion. Of course, I told Jim only enough to make him a happy man.—Madame. niimal 111 version. "What do you think? Mrs. Dodger wc»t to a picnic the day after her hus band was burled." "What of it? Picnics are not for pleasure, goodness knows."—Chicago Record. In Order la Stive 111* Life. Mrs. Iloyle —There are a few leave# missing from my cook book. Mrs. Doj'le—Your husband probably took them.—N. V. Journal. A Scheme with Two Enm. Jink*—Wh'at's the idea of sending your family away? Winks —For their summer vacation. "But jom're staying behind your self?" "Well, hang it all! I guess I want a vacation as well as they do." —-N. Y. W orliL II IV» u Fatal AllacU. "What's that book you're reading, papa?" "The 'Last Hays of Pompeii,' my pet." "What did he die of, .papa?" "An eruption, dear."—Facts. Her Anslefy. Husband Do you realize that your clothes have cost me over $2,000 during the last year? She —It was all done because I want ed to look well before you, dear. — Detroit Free Press. Pnraiuulic. "They say Jinks has live bicycles." "I shouldn't wonder. He's been do inx a pneumatic business for a long time." "Yes; he's been running it entirely cn wind."—Chicago Post. About (he Site of It. Little Elmer—Pa, what Is an extcm poraneousspeaker? Prof, lli-oadhfail —One who can talk fluently about nothing without any previous preparation. Puck. ( i>rt*n:en who have taken, i to this method of capturing game birds , declare that this is the essence of ex citing sport. They argue that the man i who goes shooting with a modern ' breech-loader may kill more birds, but j lie has only ilie satisfaction of knowing i that he has trained himself to be ex j pert in the killing process, while the I falcoter has educated one of the wild est and most unlikely creatures in ex j istence to obey his will and kill as he ! directs. Besides, say the falconers, what is the shooting of a bird on the wing compared with the exciting spec tacle of a falcon swooping with light ning-like swiftness on a partridge that is speeding for all its wings are worth I to get away. Whatever its opponents may say, cer tain it is that the sport of falconry, the noble old sport that has been sung about by ancient poets and pictured on numberless canvases by famous palnt ers, is becoming a fashionable country pastime, whose followers are as en thusiastic over their favorite amuse ment as ever was a golf crank or ywcht- Ing fiend. It is essentially a cruel sport, but no sport that has for its ultipmte object the killing of n bird or animal can be considered humane, and the death of a quarry by the talons of a hawk is probably as painless an end as being killed by a rifle shot. A party of falconers will start from the country house at which the meet takes place with half a dozen or »OTe hawks, carried on the cadge, a wooden frame, on which they are transported to the field. The birds are hooded. The hoods are of silver, and the tuft entitles the owner to readily single out his bird from others. When the moment far ac tion comes the falcon is takeu from "the cadge and carried on the gloved lxmd oi the falconer, ready to be freed at any instant for the flight after the sute. When the covey is reached the nkecm is relieved of its swivel, hood and Wash and released. She will dart up in the air and wait there until the quarry Ls sighted, circling round and round the spot where she has been released. When it is seen that the falcon is ready, a rush is made by the falconers and the dog 6 that accompany the party to the spot where the covey of partridges has been located. l*p rise the frightened birds, and, see ing their enemy, the falcon, waiting to seize them above, while unknown dan gers confront them below, the birds wing their way forward, bent on escap ing. It roust be a fast-flying partridge that can outstrip the falcon in a race. The old and crafty birds of the covey know this well, and their tactics are to head for the densest bushes and seek out a young bird that has sense enough only to fly blindly on in hope t>f its wing saving it from the falcon'r foot. It is usually a short race. With a ;v«qop that the falconer who is an enthrnJait watches and admires, as the angler does the expert's cast of a line, or the yacht ing man the swift sweep of a bout in a nice, the hawk is down on the part ridge, picking it up with her foot, md carrying it off to a place of safety w here It can gorge at ease on the prize. Sometimes, as a reward for clever work, the falcon is allowed to continue its meal, but if other work is required of It the dead bird is added to the luig of the party and the hunt is resumed. When the next covey is reached an other bird is allowed to show his prow ess. Rarely will a bird kill more than one bird out of a covey, a point that the falconers use in answering their crit ics who assert that the sport is a cruel one, for say the falconers: "We get ft great deal more sport than the man who shoots birds, with less killing thnn he. considers necessary to a successful day." But occasionally a bird will kill two partridges from the same covey. This was a feat accomplished by Black Lady recently, when, after killing on® bird, she was after another like a flash. The second one she was eating when the falconers come upon her. The first was caught by the dugs, the blow at Black Lady having broken one of wings. A good day's sport with trained birds will result in the bagging of a dozen partridges, cot much of a result from a hunter's point of view, but still a bug of eomfortablFjiroportJens.— Cincinnati Enquirer. Same Mlaallea. In 1842, during the struggle bet ween the British und the Boers over T®" occupation of Natal by the former, the British made an attack on the fcer camp, which failed through misman agement and resulted In comparatively heavy loss. This was followed by a Boer attack on the position called "The i'oint," garrisoned by 23 men, in the Boers were again successful. now made an onslaught on the en trenched camp on the Durban flat—tbe original position, w_here the enemy's colors had been hauled down, and turned against the British the 18-pounder cap tured at the point. Both sides weee short of ammunition. The British watched the shots from the captured gun, picked them up and fired them back again. The enemy were nof slow to follow the example, so that the mis siles served both sides several times. — Cincinnati Knqulrer. Ilia Identity. Little Mrs. Newtoride—Aren't you the poor man to whom I gave a large piece of my cake last week? Hard Knox No'm. I'm his ghost.— l'uck. In it Herlona Condition. Bounder —I am afraid my liver i* getting out of order. Sounder —What makes you thiukso? Rounder —I was worrying about my debts this morning.—TownToploa. Knew What She Wanted. "Why not take this parrot, ma'asa?" asked the dealer. "It talk*." "1 want a parrot to talk to and a»t to talk back," replied Miss Elcer.— Town Topics. Mlalook Hla Man. Wallace—And did you make him aat his words? Hargreaves—No. He turned out U» be one, of those fellows who would rrvher fight than eat.—Cincinnati Enquirer. Adhfilre tiema. "Goodness! I don't see how Mrs. Penn.vpurse can stick on so inanj dia monds." "Easy enough. They're paste."— Brooklyn Life. -- ~~ . No. 33 » BABY'S PICTURE. TH» l*hot«*K raphor Mom m. Cnlq«« of Making Doling Mam nina Ilnppr. An enterprising photographer has lately completed a system by which his picture's of babies have become fa mous. He lias discarded all the'fa miliar cx;;edients of his profession to > persuade very young children to sub mit to the camera, and his scheme has been completely successful. One part of his gallery has been fitted up like a nursery. \ronnd the room at con venient poin's are situated cameras, and these are in charge of his assist ants, says Tit-flits. The photographer devotes his at tention ti (be baby. He tries all the tcys in turn, getn on as intimate terms as possible with the baby after such short acquaintance, and gradually lures the unsuspecting infant, into I looking his best. VI hen pose and ex pression arc satisfactory he gives a ! signal to one of his assistants at the ► cameras and the trick fs done. Moth : ers bring their babies from all quar ters to this tactful photographer. It would be a difficult matter to find any, child who would not, after ten min utes' session with toys, exhibit some expression that his parents would be proud of. The artist catches that ex pression, and as many other agreeablt ones as passible. The final delight comes to the moth er when she receives the proofs, not sent as proofs usually are, but mount* cd on a large piece of cardboard, which | makes it possible for her to compare : them simultaneously. Thie wise man i has left nothing undone which could ! strengthen his hold on the babies and j their photographs. THEY NEVER RISE. Snch In flail to lie the Way with the Dertd Victim* of Lake Sa perlor. Another very interesting and very sad thing about Lake Superior ia that it never gives up its dead, says the Min neapolis Tribune. Whoever encoun ters terrible disaster—happily infre quent in the tourist season—and goea down in the angry, beautiful blue wa ters never comes up again. Prom those earliest days when the daring French voyagers in their trim birch-bark ca noes skirted the picturesque shores of this noble but relentless lake down to this present moment those who have met their deaths in mid-Superior still f lie at the stone-paved bottom. It may be that, so very cold is the water, some of the bodies may have been preserved through the centuries. Sometimes, not far from the shore, the bodies of people who have been fishing smacks or from pleasure boats overtaken by a cruel squall have been recovered, but only after the most heroic efforts with a drag-net or by the diver. Once on a trip down the lakes I met a clergyman who, as we passed a point of land some miles be fore entering the narrowing of the lake at the 800, pointed out the place where the ill-fated Algoma went down on the reef some eight years ago, and as he looked he said, slowly: "I was at the funeral of one man who went down with her, and the only reason that his body is not at the bottom to day with the other 38 that were Inst TEACHES BIRDS TO SWG. How Younjt Canaries Are Taafkt Pop* alu Airs by Means of a Mails Box. An interesting and successful expe riment with canary birds has been per formed by a gentleman living in the vicinity of Twenty-first and Viae streets, reportsi the Philadelphia Rec ord. This gentleman takes a dilet tante Interest in the breeding of these songbirds. As soon as the young birds are hatched he takes them and pats them apart ki a room where he has placed a small music box that imitates the tone of a canary and is constantly playing the same piece. Here he keeps them by themselves, allowing them to t hear only (he tone of the music box, so that the young birds, accustomed to hear the same air played continually by degrees become masters of it and •lng it alone. All that is necessary to start them when they are silent is to whistle the airs, and the birds will im mediately Join In. lie has already taught quite h number of young birds to sing and is now engaged in teach ing three young ones the air "Coming Through the Uye." Although they are ouiy seven weeks old they sing the air very clearly, and in two more months they will have it quite perfect. The gentleman does not teach the bird* with a professional object, but as a pleasure and a pastime, and takes much pleasure in showing his wonder ful pets to his friends. An Eiod» of Hats. The North China Herald says that a curious phenomenon was witnessed re cently at daybreak upon the opening of the Cb'angrnen gate of Soochow. Rome 4,000 or more rats of all sl*es were syeti to file out of the gates, show ing no fear of the country people who were flocking to sell their market produce in the city. There ia much ex citement, amounting almost to a pan !o, therefure. In Soochow, and a dire late is prdpbesied to the city, it being remembered that a similar exodus happened In the 'sos, just prior to the fall of the city into {he hands of the Taipiug rebels. >nmrN of Army Olßcers. A correspondent of the London Spectator call# attention to the fact that out of a ;andom list of 81 offl ters in. the American army and navy there are three German names, one Italian, one French and one Dutrh. All the rcrt are unquestionably Brit ish. Its Status. Little Elmer—l'apa, what is klepto mania? Prof. Broadhead —The most luora tive form of insanity, my son. —Puck. flpuke In Plain Enfllak, A statemont mad© in good faith, buti difficult to accept, was recently ofleredi to his congregation by a country pee-i tor. He had iJeen holding form oai the advantages of plain speaking. "Why, brethren," he said, bringing! his haud dow-n upon the puiplt with great vigor, "there's no need of altj these long words and bigh-soundintf • terms; w>t A bit. Look at St. Panll, Look »t JH. l'aul, I say! Ills word*' wtfte fall of the meat of knowledge and help, and be didn't make use of any flve-syli»ble talk. No, he always spoke in plain, simple English, my brethrear— I Tit-Bits. How It Happens. Neighbor —JFIow doe* it happen that, your oldest daughter has consumption, While your other daughter is the pic ture of health? They appear to be ot exiaotiy tbf name temperament. Hoetme- My oldest dn lighter got her winter fas b larva from Paris. The Oth ■ex TO* hers from Canada.—iN. X*