VOL. XXXIX BICKEL'S MONTHLY STORE NEWS. A grand clearance sale in all lines now going on. HEN'S FINE SHOES. Men's fine box calf, enamel, vici-kid and cordovan, hand sewed soles, exten sion edges—sll the latest styles to be closed out at half their lepular price. 600 pair Boys' fine shoes. 432 pair Youth's fine shoes. To be closed out at a big bargain. bet The boss What It /Vla\?. Ladies fine shoes, latest style lasts, more than half are hand sewed lace or but ton in \ici-kid, enamel, patent leather and box-calf shoes that aie stylish and WJII wtar well -all irood sizes and will close them out at a big reduction. 500 pair L«di s* warm lined shoes go at less than half price. D' In MISSES- AND CHILDREN'S Big Bargains In school! shoes. Felt and Rubber Goods. We have a large stock of Men's. Boys' and Youth's felt boots and overs which we do not wish to carry over and will be closed out at P. big reduction. Large stock of Rubber Boots and Shoes to be included in this sale. Children's fine rubbers 10c Ladies' fine rubbers 20c. Men's fine rubbers 45c. Also big rtnek Men's and Boy ' working shoes a: iway down prices. High Iron tst-inds with four lasts for repairing. Sole lra lier cut to any amount you wish to purchase. Shoe findings of h.ll kinds at reduced prices. We have n.ade reductions in all lines and ask you to call and examine our and wo can save you money. JOHN BICKEL, t*B SOI 1 H MAIN STREET. - - BUTLER, FA |>oo<>ooooooooooo<>soooo<>oo<^ Mrs, J. E. ZIMMERMAN| 18th Semi-Annual 'i Sacrifice Sale. I JOur Semi-Annoal Sacrifice Sale Takes Place as Usual} | | Beginniug Wednesday, Jan. Btii, and continuing ]! ; j Thronghout the entire monlh of January, j! i > The many inquires we are receiving daily asking if we in-i I to have our sale testifies to the popularity of these Sacri-< \ >hce Sales among our many patrons who have been benefited by^ < iliem in the pavt. We are anxious to make this >the biggest success of all previous sales, and shall do so by ( .offering our goods at prices you connot resist. We cannot | quote all piices—only a few—consequently it will pay you to ( make us a personal visit. i i mmm I All Wraps, Suits and Furs. \ ( I Wa ' sts > Wrapp 6lß in< i Dressing Sacques.< j All Dress Goods, Silks and Satins. . . < All Muslins, Calicoes and Ginghams. I 4 ® J All Underwear, Hosiery and Gloves. j An / All Laces, Embroideries & Dress Trimmings | < I IOWO will All Blankets —woolen and cotton. 4 I Al) I,ace Curtains and Portiers. ' , . Sacrifice prices for cash only. Come early to secure first choice.. ' Bale begins WEDNESDAY, JANUARY Bth, 1902 ' | Mrs. J. E. Zimmerman. KECK Fall and Winter Weights, |i t /tlt\ E Have a nattiness aljout tbera that J] f . /]■ P /, W mark the . wearer, it won't do to I PS [V I Iff) IJ m wear the last year's output. You / v\\J \\ won't get the latest things at the ■f rFI fi-* stock clothiers either. The up-to • |/ \"V yji date tailor only can supply them, I fVv . J jfu O you want not °nly the latest I J I I \J| 11/ Itf jj things in cut and fit and work y I I 111 I manship, the finest in durability, I ll/ 1I I where else can you get combina f J J 1 111 It I tions, you get them at KECK G. F. KECK, Merchant' Tailor, 42 North Mainj Street All Work Guaranteed. Butler,Pa !&"&"$ PROMPT RELIEF. CERTAIN CURE The Latest Internal Remedy. Easy to Take. FIFTY CENTS per Bottle--" A Week's Treatment. Try The CITIZEN FOR JOB WORK THE BUTLER CITIZEN. The Cure thai feu Coughs f £ \ GafdS; / p Grippe, (I \ Whooping Onußh, As»hma, I Bronchitis and Incipient A 2f Consumotion, is K, OllOss f k Tt\? German remedy" ' F Cures \W.ak mvA Wwi "i. i a\\ drutyv.-LV 2.Z &E~ \% 4 ~ -cv - 'R' Jelly and preserve Jars In '.-\~& •S'pS theoldfashioned way. fSeal \i r them hy the new, quick, ,-s *• ~~3 J JV-\ absolutoly sure way—by a thin coating of Pnre ■■vj ?T_* wf( Rcllned Paratiine. lias •■' i •SWIMIBe no taßto or odor. Is it tt'liYp»Pjj| air tlpht and tcld i-f proof. Easily applied. i'i wk) Usefulin adozeu other CV. ; v\ K/ ways about the houie. f*. (1 jlj W Full directions with Ijc V \ everywhere, Made hy STANDARD OIL O. cleansing CATARRH AM) HEALING CUKE FOR CATARRH P«| Ely's Cream Balm E AYFEVER^i^| Easy and pleasant to s' /3H ns". Contains no in jurions drug. EIBH It is quickly absorbed. | Gives ltelief at once. It Oping and Cleanses —, , ™ the -Vasal I'as-spes. frt I nihU FA fl • Allays Inflammation. wWtU 'Hlknu Heals and Protects the .Membrane. Restores the Senses of Taste and .Smell. I.arge Size, 60 cents at Dr by mail; Trial Size, 10 cents by mail. ELY BKOTIIEKb, 50 Warren Street, New York. i « | 14 Johnston's M Beef, Iron and Wine L* Best Touic { Blood Purifier. > Price, 50c pint f J Prepared and W2 sold only at *i Johnston's H H Crystal W [i Pharmacy. 0 li " >4 Wl R. M. LOGAN, Ph. G , h \ Manager, W A IOC N. Main St., Butler, Pa [« Both 'Phonos py ,£ wl Everything in the Ll line. F* New Liverv Barn W. J. Black [s doing business in his new barn vhich Clarence Walker has erected "or him. All boarders and team iters guarranteed good attention 3arn just across the tiotel Butler. He has room for fifty horses. People's Phone. No. 250. L. C. WICK, DBA1«8R If LUfIBER. Karl Schluchter, Practical Tailor and Cutter 125 W. Jefferson, Butler, Pa. 3ushelinq, Cleaning and REPAIRING A SPECIALTY. ©o©c©o®c#c©cC#c9c#-#o#:#oi ?TtiE STEPSON I • W." • 0 • How Hj Ran Away and Made £ 3 His rortuno and What • • Happened When Ha © Came Book. £ f o #C#O#O®C®O0?®3O«O0O»O#O»-® The night after his stepfather. Squire Halsted, whipped Ilarold Burr for a thing he had not done Harold rnn away. No one knew It but I, and I was "nobody. But I thought as much of Ilarold as ever a human being could thiuk of another, and I knew that he was wronged. and I felt that Mrs. i Holding had done a dreadful thing 1 when she took Sqjire Ilalsted for her j pecond husband and l»t him rule her, I take possession of her money and ill use her handsome boy. I had had my share of It. too, for while Mr. Robling lived and while she was a widow I was like a daughter of the house. But no sooner had she come back from her honeymoon trip than nil that was altered. The squire looked at 1 me coldly, and 1 heard him ask Mrs. llalsttd who 1 was. "llit mother died when she was born," Mrs. Halsted said, "and 1 took the la by to my own nursery, where Ilarold lay In the cradle." "More fool you. my dear," said the squire. "The father went away," said Mrs. Halsted. "and was lost at sea, so they said, and I kept the little girl." "You must remember that she will need to earn her own bread," said the squire. "She Is not a lady. Let the servants keep her in their part of the house and teach her her duties as | waitress." *'Oh, Mr. Halsted!" cried the bride, "J cannot do that." "My dear." said Mr. Halsted, "I am master here." The poor lady was helpless. She bad no longer any control of her own money. 1 was six years old. Harold the same age, and a terrible life we had had of It 1 was very well used In the kitchen, but I felt cast down and degraded I wore big crash aprons that covered me from head to foot in stead of my pretty muslin and sillf dresses. 1 was delicate, and waiting Is hard work when your wrists are Blender. Mrs. Halsted did all she could for me. 1 used to hear her pleading with the squire to let her send me to a boarding school to learn to be a teach er, but he called her a "little goose," and she fancied him very wise. But for Harold I should uever have known anything, as after school ho used to come to me and teach me what he had learned himself. Cook would whisper: "That's right. Master Harold. It's a good deed you are doing. God spare you. I w.-is never taught to rade me self, on account of an evil minded step father iv me own that put me to sarv ice before I could get schoolin', an' I know the loss." And not a servant but would have waited in my place, for they said I was too small to carry dishes; but the cruel squire would have me come in to make sure that he was obeyed. Mrs. Halsted really felt badly about it, I know. But two little girls came epoo, and then a little boy, and soon she eared nothing for her own splendid boy, and why should she care for me? But I am wandering away from the morning when Harold Robling, just eighteen that day, walked down the garden pn:h in the gray morning light, and I with him. choking down my sobs. For now the one being I loved was going away from me perhaps for ever. It was only 5 o'clock, and no one was up. The grass was wet with (Jew, and there wore only a few pink streaks In the sky to tell that day was coming. We did not dare to speak until we got out of lie;'.ring of the house. "Goodby. little sister," he said; "good by, Dora, my pet Keep up a good heart and never forget to answer my letters." And be was off. and I went home weeping as though my heart would break. There was a terrible time at the house when they found he was gone, and the squire swore he should never enter his doors again. But the squire's daugh ters. who bated Harold as their father did, though he was their own mother's child, said they were glad he was gone, and only I remembered him, I think, very long. A weak woman was Mrs. Halsted. and her husband had got her under his power. The way be man aged her has always made me thiuk that there must be something In mag netism or hypnotism. She seemed to have lost her senses or to have grown mentally blind, and he led her where lie would. Just about this time I fell very ill, pnd when I grew better the squire, knowing 1 was good at my needle, made a seamstress of me. I was ashamed to say why, but It is because I looked rather stylish and was called pretty, and so many questions were asked me by guests. As a seamstress 1 could stay In my upper room and work. I was so thankful for the change. Now I could rend a little and be more to my self. I made the Onery fcr the young ladies of the family, and no one trou bled me. Once, indeed, a rich old gentleman, having somehow got my story from good old cook, sought me out and made me a proposition of marriage, saying it was a shame that such an elegant wo man should live as 1 did. But I thank ed him and decllued bis offer. I was not unhappy now. except that I pined tor news of Harold; for in all these yeara no word had come from him— none of those lettes he had promised. 1 felt sure he was not dead, and It wa9 very natural that he 6houid for get to write; but my heart had no rest. He was twenty-six years old by this time, and in all that time much might Lave happened. My pillow was often wet with tear# from thoughts of him—fancies of what he had suffered and longing to meet him or only see him from afar but once again. At last news came. Mrs. Halsted came running into my room wild with Joy. "News of my boy!" she said, holding a letter toward me. "I thought you had forgotten all about him, madam," I said. I was sorry the next moment, for she burst Into tears and faltered through her sobs: "You don't know what it Is be the wife of a man who dominates your will! I never have forgotten or ceased to regret other things." Then she wip ed her eyes and ss'.d: "But, as far as Harold goes, It Is all over. He has written to me. He is rich—really rich. He has made a fortune In California, and he Is coming home to see me. He is in New York and will be here tomor row. The squire Is pleased; the girls are wild to see him; hla little brother is delighted." She ran out of the room again, look lug young and happy, and I sat down i to iuy awallowtr™ a great BUTLER, PA.. THURSDAY, FEBRUARY O. ISO 2 lump thnt had risen In my throat. lie liad not written to me. Well, 1 was only a servant, and he was a rich man now They were rejoicing in his coming for that reasons-she squire and his children. He was a very different person from the poor Harold Kobling who went away. "I expect he will give us lots of pres ents." I heard one of the girls say. "An older brother who Is rich is a great thing to have. We must pet him and make him good natured." "Oh, yes." said the other. "When girls have as stingy a father as we have a generous elder brother Is a godsend." And I— oh! If he returned In rags, lagging his bread, I should have wel comed him. I cared for him, not for his money And If he had returned po r it was I to whom he would have written. I knew well. Hut 1 tried to put the selfish thoughts away and re joice for his sake that he had pros pered. even if he had forgotten his little Bister Dora. The morrow came. As I sat at my machine I heard the sounds below t!:at teld he had arrived. I beard his n: aher cry out and the squire say h< artily, "Welcome home, my t>ov"* and his sisters squeal and after a way they had T!.<_n the great drawing room doors were closed, shutting me out. I, who loved him so dearly, went back to my room alone, uncared for, wretched! I felt as though my heart would break. 1 could no longer keep back my tears. Half an hour passed; then some one canvc to the door—a servant—who told me briefly that 1 was wanted in the parlor. Trembling, quivering, feeling as I had never felt before, I obeyed the summons. I opened the drawing room door. •*. The squire stood before the fire, im portant as usual, one hand In the breast of his coat, the other waving toward mo as he uttered these words: "Dora. I have sent for you because Master Harold has returned and wish es to meet a faithful servant of the family." Rut before the words were out of his mouth Harold, handsomer and lar ger. hut the same for all that—the very Harold that 1 knew—rushed forward and took both my hands and bent down and kissed me. "I told you. sir." he said, "that I wanted to see Dora, the dearest being alive to me! £uch words as you utter 1 cannot permit you to speak as though they were mine. You have never re ceived any of my letters, Dora, but I have guessed why." "I never have received a letter. Har old." 1 answered. "So I thought," said he. "We will not ask who kept them from you. I have no wish to quarrel with any one, but you were my only friend years ago when I went out Into the world home less and penniless, and I have come now to ask you to share with me the home that I can now offer to you." "Share your home, Harold?" cried the squire. "The girl Is not your sis ter. It can't be done. It would be im proper!" "I am glad, sir, that the girl is not my sister," replied Harold, "for she is the girl I want for my wife, and here, before you all, I ask her for her heart and hand, and proud shall I be if she will give them to me." I could not answer, but he saw all I felt In my face and led we away with him. There was no quarreling. People like the squire and his family never offend rich people, and I am the happiest wo man living. Making: the Young Owl Work. Apropos of the woodcock a certain man of deep powers of observation says that the big barn owl lays only one egg at a time and after hatching that lays another, 6o that the first young bird may keep the second egg warm while Its mother is out foraging. Thus the entire family help In the hatching, for the head of the house Is often found sitting with his mate. From three to seven eggs are laid, and, as Incubation begins with the first ono, we can easily understand that young birds are found In the same nest with fresh eggs. Do you know any other parents that put their children to work as soon as they are born?— New York Press. Lout. First Married Woman—Did your hus band really lose Ills heart over you be fore you married? Second Ditto (feelingly)—l fancy he must have done so; anyway I haven't Been anything of It since.—Exchange. He Was Puzzled. The new clerk called for a number over the telephone. "O-o! Goo-o-goo-oo!" came the re sponse. "What in the deuce is that?" he ask ed, staring blankly around. "Oh, that's the telephone girl with a mouthful of hairpins telling you that the line is in use," explained the old clerk.—Chicago News. The Lint Execution at Tyburn. The last execution on a permanent gallows In London took place at Ty burn on Nov. 7, 1783, the malefactor being one John Austin, condemned for highway robbery with violence. For centuries Tyburn had been the scene of executions for criminals condemned in Middlesex, and before the erection of the permanent gibbet occasional hangings had taken place, record exist ing of the hanging of Judge Tressilian and Nicholas Brembre at that place as far back as 1388. The gallows consisted of three posts, and around it were open galleries, re sembling race stands, in which seats wore let. On account of the disgrace ful scenes on the road, executions were transferred in 1783 to the area in front of Newgate, despite the objections of residents, and on Dec. 3 of that year the first hanging took place there, when no loss than ten were executed.— London Chronicle. An Intercntlnar Relic. In the matter of diminutive bank notes a correspondent sends an ac count of a curious note which he has In his possession. It is a card measur ing. 2 by 2M> inches, on one side of which is twice printed the word "Two pence," while on the other the sum Is printed in words and figures round the border. In the middle is the following: "I promise to pay the bearer, on de mand, twopence. By order of the Cor poration of the City of New York, Feb. 20, 1790. D. Phoenix, City Treasurer." —London Graphic. Not Durable. "Marriages may be made in heaven," he said thoughtfully, "but if so, they'ro dealing in a cheaper grade of goods up there every year. They don't last any thing like the way they used to."— Chicago Post A Fair Supposition. "Who Is thnt man who keeps saying It Is always the unexpected that hap pens?" "I'm not sure—probably an attache Df the weather bureau."—Washington SONG. If all the dreams we dream, draT, Should happ ti to be true: If half what we dream, dear. Should come to me and ycu; Or ju«t supp so a single one Were granted us some day. If that one were a fond one, We'd dream our lives away. If all the dreams we dream, dear Should vanish in a day; If not the simplest one, dear. Should ever come our way, We'd dream on just the same, dear, Though the fairies might not stay. And dreams would be as sweet, dear. For what they are today. —Rhoda Janet Walker in Boston Transcript. 0»»» f fv»■ * r »*>" «• t» f *r;. I AN AWFUL | l T EST OF £ GRATITUDE | s j By John H. Rafferty. 2 «f M The friendship between Senator Har bine and old Newt Stuart was for twen ty years one of the many anomalies nud one of the few edifying conditions that distinguished the social life of the capital. Newton Stuart was a news paper correspondent—nobody knew how old, but the dean of the press gallery, beloved and undisputed. Senator Ilar blne held a similar position in that ex clusive, clublike organization known as the United States senate. Old Newt hailed from Louisiana, and his senatori al friend was from Ohio, so that as far as au exchange of official favors might go there was no apparent reason for their unfaltering affection for each oth er. Newt couldn't "boost"' Harbine if he wanted to and had never stooped to accept patronage of any kind from the Louisiana legislators who had come and gone during his long career as Washington correspondent. So far as any outsider knew, there were only three grouuds for the mu tual admiration between Newt and the old senator—viz, fishing, terrapin and mint julep. Outside of Washington such paltry matters will probably never be regarded as adequate motives for a great and lasting friendship, but In Washington the three delights named are sometimes of vaster moment than the making of treaties or the establish ment of national policies. Newt was the champion terrapin chef of Wash ington for a generation, llarbine's mint juleps were the wonder and envy of all comers. Bartenders made their repu tations by advertising "the Harbine julep," and restaurants, cafes and ho tels won patronage by announcing "ter rapin a la Newt Stuai t." But when it came to fishing neither ♦ lie senator nor the reporter would yi«ld the palm. For a dozen years they had gone fishing together. As many times had they come home in raging debate as to which had caught the greatest weight of fish, which had cast fly or bait the farthest or which was most dexterous in playing a line. Fish ing was the one rock upon which they split incessantly, and once the subject came up between them they would rail and boast at one another till blows seemed the only argument left. One day Newt aud the senator, sitting in a circle of most potent, grave and wor thy lawmakers at the Shoreham, chal lenged one another to a final test of their prowess as bait casters. The idea tickled the audience, though it was midwinter. Cases of wine and boxes of cigars were freely wagered, and finally each contestant went for rod and tackle, and the whole party trudg ed through the snow across to Lafa yette square for the duel. The distances were measured off. A dangling pine cone was selected as the object to cast at, and each contestant, using his own rod and reel, was to have five chances, the decision to go to the caster who missed the least. It was a walkover for the senator, for he whipped his fly across the cone five times successively, while poor old Newt missed his second shot and cast wide on the last. He paid the wager and swoje that it was the reel that beat hi»T "I bet fifty I can beat you right now With that there gosh durned Meek reel o* yourn!" sputtered Newt. But the senator said it was time for a Julep, wagged his head in triumph and led the party back to the hotel. "I can beat you at bait casting with any kind of a reel," Newt used to boast after that, "but that there Meek sizzler you've got ain't a reel at all; It's a llv in\ breathin', conscious piece o* witch craft!" It was about two months after this that Newt intrenched himself forever In old Senator llarbine's loving heart. The latter's son was the scourge of his life. He had been expelled from West Point, discharged from half a dozen government positions and arrested a dozen times. Finally a letter from Mrs. Harbine came from Cincinnati an nouncing that Dick had broke loose there on a wild debauch that threat ened to end disastrously for the young man himself and for the fair name of his father's family. Senator Harbine handed the letter to old Newt. "Newt, you like my boy, I know," he growled. "He thinks more o' you than he does o' his own father. If you'll run down to Cincinnati and stop him, I'll give or get you anything in reason. I'm rich, and I'm strong with the ad ministration. Honest, now. Newt, I know you never cared for money, and you have no family, but if you'il stop this Cincinnati jag o' Dick's I'll give you a house and lot or—or—anything you want." Newt started for Cincinnati that night. Nobody ever knew just what he said or did to Dick Harbine, but in a iveek they came back, Newt silent and satisfied and the senator's son pale, repentant and following old Newt around like a whipped dog. Old Har bine actually grew younger and gayer as the days grew into weeks and the weeks into months and his boy showed no signs of a relapse. "By Jehosapliat, Newt!" he swore at his friend one night. "I'm blowed if I don't believe you've cured the whelp. You got to take something just to give me a chance to show how I appreciate What you've done. Why, mother was breaking her heart over Dick. I never showed how liis doings hurt me, but tfcey were just killing me. You're poor, Newt, and you're getting old— don't deny it—you'll have to quit this blessed newspaper business pretty soon, and I'll bet you haven't saved a hundred dollars. Come, Newt, be fair with me. Let me loan you at least a few thousand? Eh? Or say, better jet. take that house and lot up in N street. I don't want it, aud it'll net you two thousand per. What d'you say?" But Newt would only abuse old Har bine for li.s pains and turn the talk into a string of "joshing." The senator however, was so serious in his deter mination to do something for Newt that the <1 spute between them grew acute aud almost bitter. Newt was Retting old. Nobody knew whether he had saved anything, but everybody knew that tbo time for his retirement was at hand. As months went by and old Uarblne's solicitude about reward ing him waxed more earnest and per sistent poor Newt's powers of resist ance begau to wane. The senator saw It and was glad. The two old friends became inseparable. Terrapin suppers and bouts with innumerable mint juleps became continuous. Spring was merging into summer when the old correspondent yielded finally to the tempter. "Senator," began Newt one night as they sat on the hotel balcony, "I've made tip tny mind to take that reward you insist ou giving me." "God bless you. old man," chuckled Harbine. tinkling the ice in his big j glass. "I'm not going half way about it ei ! tiier." resumed Stuart, looking up with i an evident effort to muster his courage. ' 'Tin go'.ng to hit you haru. I'm" — "Fire away, you old fraud!" laughed the senator. "You know well I'd give you the shirt off my bac£" "I'm going to retire at the end o' the year." continued Newt, "and I'm not going to work any more. I" "Bully boy! (Jo ahead!" laughed Ilar bine. "In fact, I expect to pass the rest of my life in ease—fishing, in fact." "That's the stuff! How much'll it cost a year to keep an old hermit like you in terrapin, mint and bourbon? Let 'er go. Newt!" "Never mind what it'll cost." Here Newt swallowed the lump in his throat, coughed a few times and let go the thunderbolt: "1 want that Meek reel o' yourn!" "Newt," bawled the senator, getting pale—"Newt, you don't mean it?" "But I do mean it. Are you going to make it good?" "Oil. Newt," groaned old Ilarbine, "don't get so grasping! Take the house in N street. It's worth nearly ten thou sand." ~ "Nope," drawled the inexorable Stu art. "No real estate for me. I'd rather have that reel than half o' Capitol hill. Do I get it?" The senator strode up and down the balcony a dozen times in moody si lence. , Once he paused before Newt as if to utter further protestations. He finished his julep, made another, tin kled a faint knell with the ice in his glass and fairly groaned: "It's yours."—Chicago Record-Herald. Sonnda That Cannot Be Heard. A stone thrown into the water pro duces ripples. In the same way if you strike something, as a drum, there are ripples in the air, and the disturbed at mosphere reaches the ear as a sound. The slower the ripples or vibrations the deeper the sound. The deepest audible sound in a mu sical instrument is that of the great thirty-two foot pipe of the organ of St. Paul's, which gives sixteen vibrations a second. That is probably the deepest 6ound that the human ear can catch. You listen to it, rolling through the sa cred edifice like distant thunder, and a little thought will enable you to realize that there may be sounds Inaudible to you, but which you can feel. The deep tone pervades your entire being until you have some doubt whether you real ly hear or feel it. The thunder of the cataract of Niag ara produces a note with exactly half tne number of the big organ pipe—that Is, eight vibrations. You cannot heai the note, but it can be recorded by dell rate instruments and you can feel each of the eight waves beat against your ear drum. The great volcanic eruption of Ivrakatoa produced a musical note of four vibrations a second. It was registered by meteorological instru ments in different parts of the world. The Rat and the Siran. During a dreadful storm, when the river Tyne had flooded the country all around, a number of people were as sembled watching the huge masses ol hay swept along in its rapid course. At length a swan came in sight, strug gling sometimes for land and at others sailing in its stately manner along with the torrent. As it drew near a black spot was observed on its nnowy plumage, which the spectators were astonished to find was a living rat, and It Is probable it had been borne from its dwelling in some hay rick and, see ing the swan, had hastened to it for a refuge. On the bird arriving on land the rat leaped off its back and scam pered away, but a man having no re spect for the sagacity which the ral Lad displayed, killed it with a blow of his staff. CHRISTMAS AT PA'S FOLKS, Christmas down at pa'a folks, nigh t' Poseyrille; D'nners that they have there allers fill the bill! Aunt Tryphena's cookin' somehow hits the spot, Mince pie an* pound cake an' turkey, like as not. All the Wiggins fam'ly gather there, they do; Uncles, aunts an* cousins, what a jolly crew! Laughin' off their troubles, eatin' of their fill— Christmas down at pa's folks, nigh t' Poseyville. Hills o' currant jelly, lakes o* quince preserves, Glasses full o' cider t' steady up one's nerves; Fowls all stuffed with dressin', puddin's sugai sweet, Lots o* Aunt Tryphena's homemade bread t* eat. Don't care where they live at, once in ev'ry year All the Wiggins fam'ly come from fur an' near Jes' t' Bpend, while bells ring peace t' men, goo< will, Christmas down at pa's folks, nigh t' Poseyville. Relatives from Joncsport, simple folks an' good, Yes, an' even some from the Plum Creek neighbor hood, Come in country bobsleds (Town the drifted roadj Bringln' all the young folks, good ole fam'lj loads! Never git so fur but once a year they come Fer t' spend their Christmas holiday t* hum— Tellin' jokes an' stories, laughin' fit t' kill, Christmas down at pa's folks, nigh t' Poseyville. —Brooklyn Life. Sharp Alrj Sharp Boy. It was a cold day, and the wind waj blowing fiercely as a boy entered a street car, leaving the door open, mucfc to the discomfort of an old gentleman who sat next. As the wind chilled his marrow his temper rose. Leaning across his seat and taking the kid by his ear, he said: "Were you brought uj In a barn? Why don't you shut the door?" The boy said nothing, but closed the door, coming back to hli seat In tears. This sight moved the old man to relenting pity. "There, there," he said, "little man, I didn't really mean you were brought up In a barn." "That's just It," retorted the kid. "I was brought up in a barn, and every time I see a jackass it makes me think of it."—Philadelphia Record, ExpeeU One New Year's Caller. Jeuks—lt seems the old custom of making New Year's calls has died oul altogether. Ilorroughs-Not altogether. I think Markley will surely make one on me. Jenks—That so? Borroughs— Yes, a three month note I gave him will fall due on that day.— Catholic Standard and Times. Timely Strategy. Ostend—Now, mamma, you know it would be sacrilegious to whip us. Mamma (astonished)— Sacrilegious? Ostend—Yes: you know you always tell the neighbors we are little angels, and it would never do to whip angels. —Key York U'prld. FIELiS'SRRPEN SOFT PORK. Indian Corn ■■ a Came—Mkimmilk the Great Correetor. Many theories have been advanced tQ account for s>ftness in pork. Some have ascribed it to the character of the food, others to undue forcing of the pig in the earlier stages of growth, to killing while still immature, to the breed of the pig, to the locality in which it is grown, and even the phase of the moon when the pig is slaughter ed lias been assigned as a cause. F. T. Shutt of the central experimental farm of Canada has made a study of the character and causes of soft pork. Mr. Shutt llnds that softness (slight re sistance to pressure) is nearly always accompanied by oJliness. and he draws I the following conclusions from a serien of experiments in feeding: That the one great controlling factor in the quality of the pork of finished pif:s lies in the character of the food employed. That Indian c rn and l>eans tend tc s ftness—i. c.. to increase the percent- FED ON COBN. FED ON BEANS. age of olein in the fat. If these grains are used, they must be fed judiciously if first class pork is to be produced. If fed in conjunction with skimmilk, it has been shown that a considerable proportion of Indian corn may be used in the grain ration without injuring the quality of the pork. That a grain ration consisting of a mixture of oats, peas and barley in equal parts gives a firm pork of excel lent quality. That skimmL'k not only tends to thriftiness and rapid growth, but coun teracts in a very marked manner any tendency to softness. That rape, pumpkins, artichokes, sugar beets, turnips and mangels can be fed in conjunction with a good ra tion without injuring the quality of the pork. That the fat of very young pigs and animals of unthrifty growth is softer than that of finished pigs that have in creased steadily to the finishing weight. BREEDING UP ALFALFA. Better Varieties to Be Obtained by Selection and Other Means. Most farmers and even alfalfa grow ers, if asked whether there is more than one kind of alfalfa, would say, "No; it seems to be all alike." A Cali fornia grower, however, takes a differ ent view, believing that it is possible to breed up a better variety. His theory, expressed in Orange Judd Farmer, is: Where there is a thick stand the stalks are all forced upright and min gle together, so that the characteris tics of each cannot be seen, but if yon will carefully examine a field where the plants n:-e very thinly set and therefore have an opportunity to show the dif ferences in their nature by their style of growth you will see that they are very far from being all alike. Some will be lying so flat on the ground that it would be impossible to cut them with a mower, while others grow so upright that they look as if they had been tied to a stake. Then, again, the leaves on some plants are small and narrow, while those in others are large and round, and since the leaves are the best part of the plant this is of very great importance. If you will look at such a field a week or two after cutting, you will see that some plants are only Just beginning to grow, while others have already attained a height of six or eight inches. In the blossoms similar variations oc cur. On some plants they are almost white, while on others they are of a deep purple. Now, I contend that where nature has already made so many vari ations man, by careful selection and other means, may make even greater and more important ones. This is a work which cannot be done by the farmer, as he has neither the time, skill nor the appliances to accomplish it, but the experiment stations have all the fa cilities, and I hope it will not be long before some station will take hold of the matter and succeed in giving us a better variety of alfalfa than we are at present cultivating. If only 100 or 200 pounds of hay per acre at each cutting could be added to the crop by such im provement, it would add millions of dol lars annually to the income of alfalfa growers. The success of the introduction of Sumatra loaf into the Connecticut val ley and the control of black rot in the Pennsylvania crop have been very In vigorating to the tobacco Industry In New York, Ohio, Wisconsin, Texas and Florida. PERMANENT PASTURES. How to Make Them More ProtfnctlTe at « Small Expense. There arc many sections where such a thing us j permanent pasture is not known. The land all being alike suita ble for tillage, a rotation of crops is the usual practice perhaps of three or five years, of which one year or two it may be used for pasturage. Hut here in New England, says American Cultivator, we have much land that is unsuited for any other purpose than pasturing and often scarcely lit for that. It may be that the noil has washed from hillsides to the lowlands until there is scarce enough to furnish root hold to a scanty growth of grass and bushes, or it may be so filled with stone below the sur fuce as to resemble only a poorl»v cleaned street with an inch or two of soil on the surface and a sort of bro ken pavement under it. The problem that often confronts the farmer is how to make such land fur nish summer feed for his stock with out a greater expenditure for labor and fertilizer than the food will be worth. Many of these old pastures have for years had their crops grazed off and nothing returned but such grass and roots as have decayed on the surfiye No.o or below it or the droppings of the an imals as they roamed ever the field In summer. They are not lacking so much in vegetable matter as in the mineral elements of fertility. They may have a greater amount of root growth than the crop upon them would lead, one to suspect—that Is. they are what Is often called rootbound, and this must l>c remedied in the first place by breaking up these roots. A good harrow run over these fields will do this, the cutaway or disk har row being the best, but a sharp tooth ed nnil heavy spike harrow will do very good work if It is run over it sev eral times. Barely scratching the sur face is not enough, but It needs to be' scarified as deep as it will allow, and if it is gone over five or six times the last harrowing will be of more benefit than all that have been given before. For the New England climate and soil we think the best time to do this work is in the spring, while the ground Is yet soft from the spring thaw. Far ther south or on the clay soils of the west it may be done in the fall, but in either case we would sow upon it clover seed in the spring, using ten to fifteen pounds of the small red clover and about one-half that amount of the white clover. The coming in of other grass we should trust to the seed al ready in the soil of the grasses that c.'e already there, though certainly it would do no harm to add blue grass and red top seed if one feels warrant ed to pay the expense. We started to tell how a permanent pasture may be made more productive at small expense, yet we think that the improvement would warrant an ex penditure for fertilizer to the extent of 200 pounds of acid phosphate or of fine ground bonemeal and 100 pounds of muriate of potash to the acre when the seed was sown, and If the soil la very light this amount might be con siderably increased, or doubled at least, to the advantage of the owner. A Good Type of Imohkoaic. There are smokehouses of several types for curing meats, but none so safe and satisfactory, according to The Farm Journal, as the one in which no fire is ever put. It has a six inch tile runnJhg from a fire pit in the HOUSE I PLAN OF SMOKXHOUSa. eartli three to eight feet from the house and a trifle lower. The smoke comes in at or near the bottom of the house and reaches the hams and bacon perfectly cool. Another advantage, the meat may be smoked without un locking the smokehouse. Onion Growln*. Farmers in central New York are realizing a good profit In their onion crop this year, as they are selling at $1.30 a bushel at retail and a dollar at wholesale, according to the American Cultivator. Some hitve grown 500 bushels to the acre and do not esti mate the expense at over SSO per acre. Those who had them on upland were the fortunate ones, as the heavy rains drowned out nearly one-half the crop Dn lowlands. The crop on lowlands haa averaged from 200 to 250 bushels an acre, and the cost of growing them was Increased to 25 cents a bushel, leaving a profit of but about $l5O an acre. A. Syracuse capitalist has lately bought a tract of 400 acres and is clearing up the land. He will build five or six ten ement houses nnd lease the land to onion growers. There is a vast tract of muck land well adapted to this crop, as It is among the most fertile and pro ductive land in central New York. The owner of a thirty-two acre farm on the edge of a swamp says his crop brought him $5,000 cash last season. He had seven or eight acres of onions on which he grew 3,500 bushels, which were worth $3,500. He had two acres of peas that be sold to the canning fac tory and then grew a second crop of canning beets, for which he received $1.25. He has S3OO to S4O« worth of sugar beets for the sugar factory be sides a good crop of sweet corn, hay. and other products. A Church Kicker. "When I go to the theater," says a churchman quoted In the Philadelphia Record, "I sit in a finely upholstered seat Underneath is a rack for my hat, and on the back of the seat ahead Is a place to hang my overcoat. In the church which I attend every Sunday ie an uncomfortable, straight backed pew, into which the ushers always In sist upon crowding visitors after my wife and I are seated until sometimes six persons are seated In a space scarcely large enough for four to alt comfortably. Hats and wraps must look out for themselves. "Of course, when I go to the theater I pay for my seat; but, In spite of the fact that salvation is free, I also pay pew rent in church. I might also enter a protest against women wearing their hats in church, but I won't. Some times it's a relief to retire behind one." Hon Lamp Chimneys Were Invented. Lamp glasses were invented by Aime Argand, the Inventor of the fa mous lamp and gas burner which bears his name. lie had been experimenting for some time in trying to increase the light, but to no purpose. On the table before him lay the broken neck of an oil flask. This he took up carelessly and placed it, almost without thought, over the wick. A brilliant flame was the result, and the hint was not lost upon the experimentalist, who pro ceeded to put his discovery into prac tical operation at once. Qnlts. Maud—Kitty, do you know what awful tilings people are saying about you? Kitty—No, dear, and I suppose you do not know what terrible things peo ple are saying about you. Maud—Perhaps, on the whole, it is well that neither of us should be en lightened.—Boston Transcript. He Did. "Harold, do you ever think of me when you are alone?" "Sweetheart," he said, turning his dark eyes full upon her, "I think of you every day of my life. There Isn't a day passes that I don't get a dun from Stoneking & Co. for that diamond ring on your finger."—Chicago Tribune. A sea anemone taken from the Firth of Forth in IS2B lived and flourished in captivity untU 1887. Judge Cox and family are among the large Washington colony at Narragan «u»»t Pie-
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers