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-