r o A Mercenary Affair By EDITH M. DOANE ( op\ right, by l\ < . Lastiueiit V o When Mn. Palmer announced the eu g igeuieiit of her daughter llelea to James Corey, every one wondered why on earth Helen had not chosen a youn ger inan. In almost ill the same breath it leaked out that Mr. Palmer, who was always trading on tips and going broke in the market, had plunged once too often—had indeed been face to face with bankruptcy until James Corey came to bis rescue. Then the world, as represented by so ciety In (Jlenwood Park proffered con gratulations and smiled discreetly. Of course If the Palmers accepted James Corey's money, they must accept its giver 100. The Park was apt to assemble In formally at the Country club for 5 o'clock tea. There was something pleas antly cozy in gathering around the low china laden table on the wide club house porch. But now chocolate cooled, forgotton, tea boiled quietly away, while their possessors eagerly discuss «d this marriage of convenience In their midst. "The poor girl Is deliberately sacri ficing herself," declared Mrs. Luw rence, tragically waving a tea cake. "And she Is so pretty," putin llttlo Mrs. Brooks irrelevantly. "Her youth has been bartered for gold," said Mrs. Ellis, who had a fond ness for light Action. "And he is so much older." "Money isn't everything." "Perhaps even yet she may be saved from it,", faltered little Mrs. Brooks hopefully. "Why save her?" briskly Interrupted Mrs. Wylle, Joining the group and tak lng the cup o" fragrant tea offered her. "Mr. Corey i 9 honorable, charitable, rich—a good man In every respect. She "WHAT'S THIS YOr'VK DONE?" UK l)l> maM'EU vehemently ought to be proud of him. I'm sure 1 can't imagine what more she could want." Five pairs of eyes confronted Mrs. Wylle iu shocked surprise. "Well, I'm sure 1 hope she takes your view of it." said Mrs Lawrence gloomily. "If he only were younger. He's as old as as father Abraham." "Oh, If Mr. Palmer had not been in such sore straits!" "Still, it is lovely to be able to cling to one's faith iu human nature as you do." * "I'm clinging to nothing," said Mrs. NVylie stubbornly; "but, for my part, I think she's a very lucky girl." "Oh. of course everybody respects him." "And he is a very rich man." "But ft is so evident that she did It to save her father." "Besides, there Is iter cousin, Tom Breuster," said Mrs. Brooks softly. Tom Breuster was an ordinary sort of a fellow fairly good looking, fairly clever iu fact, he did not amount to much one way or the other, but he happened to Imagine himself very much in love with Helen and when her engagement was announced burst in on ids aunt In a storm of Indigna tion. "What's tills you've done?" lie de manded vehemently. "Why was I kept In Ignorance all this time?" "1 don't understand you," returned Mrs. Palmer coldly. "Don't you?" he went on ruthlessly. "Then I'll explain. You have engaged Helen to a man for whoui she has not the smallest spark of afreet inn. To save yourselves- for the sake of mere money, mere worldly position—you and her father have consented to saerl flee that poor girl, body and soul." "You must be Insane to talk to me like this," returned his aunt icily. "There is no reason why Helen should not marry Mr Corey or any one else she chooses." "Let us confine ourselves to Mr Corey. She has no right to marry him at all events." "No?" said she. "And why?" "Because a loveless marriage can never be right." "But who says It isn't a love match?" she went on, forgetting her anger In her desire to convince him of the fu tility of interfering with Helen's en gagement. "Mr. Corey Is a chairaing mat:. V' Ij\ should not Helen care for !.i 'She doesn't it isn't her own doing. \ai vre sa racing her." "As though I < ;..-|d make Helen mar ry ati..' oae sue oid not wish to!" re ti rued Mrs P:ilmer, with a low laugh. My <: •,.(• ho.\ if you feel like that, i;• y go av. :i\ until you come to your I shall not i a way until I have ►et a Helen," he s ilil doggedly. " D in, I beg of you"— ',y are y >u two glowering at each '.i .er like Kilkenny cats?" cried a fresh young voice from the doorway. nov, are you. Tommy?" and Helen Palmer, slender, dark eyed, clad all In soft shimmering gray, entered the room and held out her hand in smiling greeting. Now that the moment had arrived, words failed him. Noting his hesitation, she smiled at him again. "Have you come to proffer your congratulations In person?" she asked shyly. "No, not quite," he said. "Still 1 sup pose one Is bound to say something about the clever bargain you have made That you of all people should prefer money to love!" "What a perfectly horrid thing to say." sue returned indignantly, "no you suppose because you are a member of the family you are privileged to be as disagreeable as you like?" "1 suppose loving you is being dis agreeable," lie returned moodily. Mrs. Palmer had slipped from the room, and they were both too intent to hear other I footsteps -that came nearer up the j gravel walk, up the steps, and were j muffled by the heavy rugs on the porch I outside. "Loving me! How perfectly absurd! | Why didn't you say so before? And j not come here now" — "I came to save you from sacrificing yourself to a loveless marriage," he ! returned grandiloquently. "Oh. Tommy, you are too funny," she ! laughed softly. She raised her eyes j and looked steadily into his weak, good j looking face. "Tommy," she said gently, "you must i not think that I have any feeling but ; real honest liking for Mr. Corey. I j respect him —I care for him"— "Of course, he is a very rich man. I j understand." "He is tit all events the very best j man 1 have ever met," she returned Indignantly. "Of course he has been i awfully good about father's troubles, but I should have loved him just the ! same," she went on. with quick con- j viction. "He is so good, so kind, so i just"— i "Why don't you say that he has j money and can shower that upon \ you?" "I wish you to understand," she said coldly, "that, while I appreciate Mr. Corey's money, 1 love him for himself." Suddenly her mouth quivered and two large tears strolled down her cheeks. "I am so worried about all this," she said unsteadily. "Every one thinks I care for his money. Will no j one believe"— The curtains ar the long open win dow suddenly parted. "I believe it. Do I count?" said James Corey as he entered the room, , After all, fate sometimes consents to interfere benignly, even in a mercenary j affair. PEWS FOR OLD MAIDS. QTKiint Distinctions In iho Oltl 112»«• Ici Mcetiue Ilouwe. Around three sides, about on a level i with the pulpit, in the okl meeting ' house at Hatfield, Mass., extended the : galleries, reached by staircases on the i northeast and southeast corners, where, j iu the front seats, sat the singers, tre- j hies on the north and basses on the Foulli and <■ milters aid tenors on the • east. The next two i«"y of Keats were j occupied by children, girls in the north j and boys in the south, and frolicsome i youngsters they were, if we may judge j by the frequency with which the town j was obliged to renew the brass tips to ; the staves of the tithing men, three of j whom were always on duty to keep the ■ youth from disorder. Behind the children and still higher ! iu square pews against the wall sat the j young men and maidens, the latter on j the north and the former on the south. One gallery pew was reserved for col- ; ored men and one for colored women, j and, queerest of all. a high square pew I over the north stairway was assigned to old maids ami a pew over I the south stair- to old bachelors. Just ' how many year* these two classes had to number before they were promoted from the lower eats la the synagogue the records do n >t state, but that they sat in those exalte.l seats Samuel Dwight Partridge, to whom we are in debted for the description of the old meeting house, assures us is beyond question. The square pews on the floor were assigned to householders,- accord ing to wealth and social position.— Springfield Republican. TRICKS OF THE CAMERA. Why Vnu M«o(il<l l„ef tl»«» l'l<i»tourn |»li*r Do t!»«* I*o*ivi|g. "I always hate to have my picture taken, because I have such a horrid long neck." said the woman petulantly as she entered the photographer's gal lery. He sniil'-d sympathetically. "Wait till you see the picture I take," he re plied. "You won't know your own neck, so to speak. No, it Isn't in re touching, but I always pose a long necked subject lower than the camera, and the neck shortens up. That's only one of the tricks of the trade. The hatchet faced man I pose looking straight into the camera in a full light. liis face seems to broaden and become more ficshy in this pose. The person with a fat. round face 1 place so that soft shadows veil either side of the face, which has a tendency to make the features more clear cut and handsome. "I often have subjects with crooked noses. Now, a crooked nose should be frankly attacked- that is, the camera should be pointed directly at the crook, which reduces it. if I took it from the side the deformity would be exaggerat ed a hundredfold. "The homeliest persons need not fear having their pictures taken if they will put themselves wholly in the photog rapher's hands and pose just as they ai'e Instructed to." New York Press. WAYS OF THE TOAD. foinr of tin- OilililM-* of Till* IVi-ullar 1 reiitui-e. It is remarkable that the toad, lov ing water as it does, should wander away from watery regions to dry ; ground, where it can never see a drop i of water except at rain time and leave its water rights to the undisputed pos session of its ranal neighbor the frog. How the toad loves water must be known to every garden lover. When- , ever there Is a shower the creature leaves its cool retreat under the piazza or shed and stands as far as its fore legs will let it, erect in the rain, ap parently enjo\ ng to the utmost the shower bath. Whenever they are near the water at breeding time they deposit long, slimy strings of eggs, and the young toad has togo through the tadpole stage iii common with his brother frog. Jsut when the; .<• wholly excluded by distance from the water they seem to ! have the power of being viviparous, or bringing forth their young alive. In the v . tcr ili itiou is effected iu the same man ter as in fishes, but the nielli 1 in the laud life career Is not known \l>>ut all that Is known - Ih it confined toads are found with lit fie toads, no larger than house flies, about them alter a time, and in walled gardens anil places i.,r removed from water little toads, no larger than peas, wandering around on their own re sources :i iiii which . >uld never have been tadpole- are within common ex perience. 'I Oll<*. hat is th • meaning of 'alter eiro'-' ask d the te.-u 'km- of the begin ners' cla sin Latin. "The olli-T I," said the boy with tbc curly hair. "(Jive a entence containing the phrase." "He wink ■ I his other I." Humble * Pie * By Louis J. Strontf '! < opyrighl, 1!»<S0, by P. C. Eastment ! "You're a heartless coquette! You've driven my boy away forever! He's gone—he's gone!" Mrs. Hale wailed, with angry, tearful eyes. "Cone?" Dora repeated, the indig nant red fading from her cheeks. "Yes. gone! And I hold you little better than a murderer, miss!" with which startling declaration she was leaving when Dora caught her arm. Mrs. Hale, please tell me. do you j mean that Steve is really gone now?" | "Yes. 1 do meair" that he is really j gone now!" Mrs. Hale's eyes snapped | with vindictive satisfaction at the girl's I distress. "He went across country In | his buggy, meaning to sto|i at Ills un- j cle's to tell them goodby. He'll take the train at Lynchburg. Oh, I'll never i see him again, and it's your doing, you good for nothing"— She left the un- j pleasant epithet unspoken and stalked : a way. Dora tied to her room and fell upon j her bed in a tempest of grief. It had ' not seemed possible that Steve could | carry out his threat and leave her. As she tli.-ught of it the long years ahead •vith i him scenic I to envelop and n u er her. She sprang up, gasping. S!«e i.iust get out. ■ T..i ■ o\ig for a long ride, mamma," sip' announced later, and. pulling her ■ ycb.ig cap over her swollen eyes, she rushed away. Sii ■ k i ted the village with head do.vn, vov.'iug she would not speak to ii sor.l. but an insistent voice hailed her from a small h nise out on the road, an 1 Miss l'rls \ <j,!len, the old maid seamstress, liurriea to her. "Of all people In the world!" Dora groaned, dreading the sharp eyes and usually sharper tongue of Miss Prissy. "I've heard all about it, Dora," Miss Prissy said bluntly, but with unwonted kindness. "I happened to be there w hen Mrs. Hale came from your house, and her wrath boiled over to me. I was just going to see you. I—l want to — advise you. my dear girl. Don't let foolish unger and foolish pride ruin your life. Never mind what Steve said or did. You know he loves you, and you love him. Let everything go. Think of the long years" "Ob, Miss Prissy." Dora broke in tragically, "I do think of them and how \ \J*S» HE STOPI'ED, 11 LOCK IN O HEIi WAY, I'm to live through them. I can't! It will kill me!" "Yes, you can- you will—live through i them and grow withered aud hard and I sharp tongued and unlovely, as I have ; Folks caul die nay time they pleasa j and you can |j\-> with a heart like a desert, of ashes.' 'Oh, Miss Pr'ssy. do you meau"-- | Dora hesitated, the unasked question iu her wide eye-. "I mean that I was a hot headed, proud young fool. I would not yield an Inch. I told him to go.and he went and never came back. I might have brought him back at first, but 1 wouldn't, and See what I am." "But, Miss Prissy. :eve declared he would go if 1 if I " "Yes." Miss Prissy interrupted, "that's man's way. And you told him to go. never dreaming he'd do it. That's wo man's way. And you're both misera ble. He'll marry, likely, though he'll never care as much for another. That's man's way too. And you—you're not the kind that changes. Look at me and see what you'll be! But you mustn't. I've opened my grave to you as a warning. Make it up with StCve now nt auy cost. Write to him, and be sure you eat your share of humble pie. You deserve it. I dare say, for you are a bit of a flirt, Dora. Write at once and every day till you hear from him." And she bolted into the house, leaving Dora staring at the unexpected romance, the secret of Miss Prissy's lonely life. What a pitiful tragedy, rather! And one could live on and on! Oh, if she could see Steve! it might be weeks ! before a letter! If she could only see- She stoppjd abruptly, shocked with the audacity of a thought that popped Into her bead. The next moment she swerved from her course and sped j away on the trail of Steve. She was uncertain of the distance, j It might be fifteen or twenty-five j miles: but. long or short, she would ; make it in time. He was going to 1 stop at his uncle's. That was a guide- j post. The op -n surprise and curiosity of Steve's relatives at the question! a* tn \ his movement ; f;' mi the Hushed pur sucr, little ii.o e tlijju i stranger to j them, overwhelmed % r with an agony' of embarrassment. It was plain that they had heard nothing of the short en ' gagement and iis violent rupture, audi she was not in a position to explain, for ! only humiliating defeat might meet her attempt at re eieilii.tion. She was obliged to leave them with an obviously ; unflattering opinion of a girl who was confessedly chasing a young man and who only blushed painfully and looked distressed Instead of giving satisfactory reasons. "That was a l>ig piece of humble pie. It almost choked me!" she gasped when once nore pedaling f>" dear life. "But, anyhow. I ko iw he's going to stop twice in lie and intends taking the early trai iii I.; liburg. It was worth it to learn so in <h. I can I will make It!" N•> i i ■ • :ind passed. The weary | mil --e , i to stretch Interminably, but ' " p! i:• * lon. feeling that the only imp ? bI t\ n existence was failure. A 112 'ii'My b,y assured her of the route and ive I r directions for saving a coup!" of miles. Thii LoaiK'Uver came near being her \\ aterloo, tor on tlie crosscut sne met young Lawson. a one time suitor, whom she had rejected in favor of Steve. "Why, Miss Dora!" He stopped, blocking her way "Are you lost or merely working off Injured feelings?" "Neither!" she replied curtly, at tempting to pass Fie ungallantly wheeled his horse, preventing her, saying slyly: "Your face answers as to your feelings. I might ask you how you like the sack yourself, but I'm generous. Oh,'' he laughed at her look of surprise, "it's no secret that Steve shook you and put out this morning." "You are very wise!" she retorted, endeavoring to pass. "Oh. it's common wisdom." he grin neil. still preventing her. "It wasn't gentlemanly of Steve to jilt a girl so publicly, t'oine, now; let me make you Mrs. I .aw son at once, and you'll turn the laugh oil him good and hard." "Steve did not jilt lue! I was to blame myself!" Dora flared. "Let me pass, please. I must goon!" "Why, y m don't mean that you're tagtring the fellow to try to coax him back?" he jeered insolently. Scarlet, tint disdaining denial. Dora | evaded him and fled, murmuring with j a long breath: "That was a horrible I piece of humble pie! But it's better | than eating bitter bread the rest of j my life!" j With a sickening fear that she was J already too late, she scorched desper ! ately over the remaining miles and dashed, panting and disheveled, into J.ynchburg, coining almost immediate ly upon Steve, with Don and the bug gy. at a sale stable. With a pang sho noted that Steve was pale and hag gard. lie, too, had suffered, and yet he looked so stern and grave, ller courage faltered. He might not —but she must lake it.this last and biggest piece of humble pie. and if Steve were implacable siie was so exhausted she was sure she would die and there would be no Miss I'rissy's fate for her. As she timidly approached Steve turned, saw her and with an exclama tion darted to her. and at tiie sudden light in hi eyes Miss Dora lopped over in his arms, half fainting, mur muring bean! r ikenly: "Oh. Steve! Steve!" That was all. but enough. "The humble pie I've eaten! I cor tainly deserve entire absolution!" Dora cried self rightetush when the high stepping Don was prancing home with them. •"Humble pie!' Steve exclaimed. "Your little pic • is nothing to the hunk I've j...: to : wall >w ~oin 3 back after all the fuss and how I'm to do it 1 don t see unless we're mar ried at once and run away on a lon;i trip." Dora blushed, but said nothing, and —silence gives consent! (irnnfcil 111 \«lvnnc*e. The young doctor who had lately set tied ill Shrubville had ample opportu aities to learn humility if nothing else lu hi* chosen tiehl. One day he was hailed by an elderly man. wh > re quested him to step iu and see his wife, who was ailing. At the close of hi*: visit the young doctor asked for a private word with the man. "Your wife's case is somewhat com plicated." he said, "'and with your per mission I should like to call the I'.rook lield physician in consultation." "Permission!" echoed the man indig nantly. "I told her 1 knew she ought to have a goo I doctor, but she was afraid you'd be offended if she did." I l.ulliK Dutch SpcllitiK. In the good old days when the Dutch were supreme in the administration of the affairs of New Amsterdam every body knew everybody else, and it mat -1 tered little how proper names were spelled. Modern lawyers and civil service reformers would be shocked ut the orthographical freedom of the clerks of the burgomaster's court of I those times. Here is a sample case j taken from the old Dutch records In I which the name of a plaintiff is spelled j five different ways Iu a case before the court in IG.OO Jan "Hackins" Is a complainant against the inspector of tobacco, who has cer tified Pi .fan "Hoc-kins" that the to j baeeo was good. The inspector say 9 in his defense that he inspected tha tobacco at the request of Jau "Haee kins" on June I'd. and aforesaid "Ha* gins" k >pt the barrel of tobacco until the 80th without finding out that it wan bad. Then Jan "Hakins" his some thing else to say in the case. Si'olland's l.renl (.cuius In one of those interesting literary conversations the record of which adds so much to the charm of Boswell's "Johnson" the name of Ueorge Buchan an, one of the greatest scholars of the sixteenth century and the most ex quisite I.atinist of modern times, was mentioned. A Scotsman who was present, knowing the doctor's antipa thies and seeing, 11s lie thought, 1111 op portunity of cornering him, saiit, "Ah, Dr. Johnson, what would "you have said of Buchanan had tie been an Eng llshmanV" "Why. sir," aid Johnson after a little pause, "1 should not have said of Buchanan had lie been an Englishman what 1 will now say of him as a Scotsman that he was the only man of genius his country Las produced." Buchanan's consummate ability was recognized by his contein poraries; but, like inanv another genius before and since, he had his share of "the and arrows of outrageous fortune." He read I .ivy with Marv. queen of Scots, and was appointed tu tor to her son. James I Political iu I trigues drove him to the continent, where lie taught at Bordeaux and had j Montaigne anion? his pupil-, lu his I old age he returned home and wrote i his 'History of Scotland" an<l died so j poor that his means were insufficient | to defray the expenses of his funeral. London Express. fatten 10-00. In the little town of C. lived three 1 maiden sisters by the name of Paige. ■ They were "neat," as the villagers call ! It, In Its most accentuated form, and ' they love I the small boy best afar off, 111 consequence of which they were a ! bright and shining inaj'k for the pranks that youth seems to originate for It scorners. One da\ the front gate strayed front Its wonted place with the assistance of two small neighbors. Then came a reprimand from each of the old maids and barbed repartee In return, us usual. Following this exchange came a com plaint to the parents of the offenders At the table that night papa was re quested to reprove Jim and Ted for Impertinence to the Misses Paige. "What did you say to them?" de manded papa, with the requisite frown. "Didn't sarse them at all," replied Jim, with a grin "I only said. 'Pagft | forty, page fifty and page sixty," an' they not mad at it." Ted caught sight of pa's twitching muscles nnd added, "Gee. but they were just hoppln'." "Well, don't let It happen again," answered pa as he hastily attacked a piece of apple pie.—New York Press. DEADLY 311 SHKOOMS, THE BEAUTIFUL BUT VENOMOUS AMANITA FAMILY. li f*t« l*leiiMi»i£ Ulterior of ili in i-'iiittfiiM Ltirkn a \ irion* Polmoii That Ito tli<* fives of >l< ii :«vi«l ( utile. In the dar\ shade of lofty pine trees ami under •-proading oaks in more open w >ot!> .1 inti -broom is found so ■ Miiarkahle In color and graceful iu /■•nil that its beauty lias excited ad miration fir hundreds of years. The color of its bright orange cap nnd its chalh white stem and Kills is height ened by tlif surrounding darkness of the woods iiid presents a contrast as singular as it Is beautiful. Hut beiic.-:'li the pleasing exterior of tbis brillir.t:! fungus a poison lurks so fatal to the lives of men and cattle that it is called the deadly amanita, and in different countries mothers cau tion 11• ' hiMren to beware of its charms. Amanit i lnuscaria, the deadly, or fly, atuanlta, is completely incased In a fleece like covering during the early stages of its growth, which makes It dcri •Uj egg -haped in form. As the ie;ii lengthens this covering either adherer; in loose patches to the top of j the cap or it slips away and forms a j sheathing to the cup at the base of the I stem. Another inner covering breaks away I in its turn from the cap as the mush room expands and forms a conspicuous i collar about 11;l> upper part of the ; stem. The bulbous base of the stem and t: • •• ruptured, fleecy coverings are | :-Minced characteristics which are mo i helpful in distinguishing this dan-: on; fungus from the other varie ties oi inii brooms. It is strong, free from pests and grows to a height from four to sixteen inches. 11l color the cap is sometimes bright scarlet, again orange or yellow or reddish in the ceuter and light yel low toward the edges, and it has no ticeable wartlike patches spread over the top. On old plants the color fades out, and late i:i the season particularly forms of the deadly amanita are found which are almost white. The stem is easily separated from the cup at its base. This mushroom is more generally known than any of the other poison ous species. It lias long been used a* a fly poison in Europe, and it takes its name, niuscaria, from the Latin word for a fly. lis poisonous effect upon hu man beings begins a few hours after it has been eaten. The symptoms are nausea and laiiitness, with cold per spiration and stupor, followed in se vere casos by death from a gradual weakening of the heart. A strjiig emetic should be given at once, and in all cases a physician should be called. Sulphate of atropln Is the only known chemical antidote tor this poison, and to save the patient it must be promptly administered by hypodermic injections. The poison may also be absorbed through the p ires of the skin, and bad eases of poisoning have been produced by simply holding an amanita in the closed hand or breathing its exhala tions in a warm room. If poisonous mushrooms are packed lu the same box with edible ones the \ lrus from the poisonous fungi Is ab sorbed by the harmless mushrooms, and they become a dangerous to eat us the original offenders. In certain countries the deadly ama nita seems to lose some of Its viruien i-y. and iu the north of Itussia and parts of northeastern Asia it is used in the same manner as wine for its in toxicating effects Th" mushrooms are gathered in hoi v.either and are hung up in the ai r t dry or they are some- I time-- picked fresh and put into soup I or sauces. A small amount swallowed I whole is enough to produce a day's in , toxication. Another fatally dangerous member | of I lie amanita family is the death i nip iAmanita phalloidesi, a beautiful | mushroom which also grows in the i woods, especially in pine forests. It Is j n i highly colored as the deadly j , : t|d. unlike that mushroom, i it ha .i -• o i|h. satiny cap. It Is usu ! a! . >r straw colored, but specl : i i i - . • found which are light brown, il . a. yel! >w and spotted. The stem 1 i white ami nearly smooth, and the | i • ; ! the base of the stem Is invaria | lily j- . at. . Vi a cup is even more poison i'.a the deadly amanita and •n.i nig all noxious fungi for it-; i'ii- nous qualities. It grows In the eastern and middle states and In particularly large quantities near the city of Washington. Another : aiauita (Amanita vernusj, I found in the woods in spring. Is also ! very p onous and may be told by j its color, which is a creamy whitfe I throughout. Although it is said that the anianltas ' are the only mushrooms which have provel i". t.- l to human life, there aro other var: .ies which cause such acute " tit Is well to guard against ' eating th mh. Yh: l.'olHj ior instance have several JLLthe couch ■ AND C THE LUNGS I ,TH Dr. King's iw Discovery Price H'ti 1 i HUGHS and 50c & SI.OO " IfeJt-' OS Free Trial. J ' , and Quickest Cure for all < '.BOAT and LUNG TROUB or MONET BACK. • i * t A. nollabl© for all kind of Tin Roofing Spouting and C«n«ral Joh Work. Stoycs. Heaters, Ran***, Furnaces, eto- PUKES THE LOWEST! QUALITY TOE BEST! JOHN IfIXSON MO. U# E. FRONT ST. varieties which are noneiliiile. although j many kii "-. on the other hand. uiake| deliciou , toil. The boleti are distill-j gulshed by a sponge-like surface of pore in-' :ul lif gills beneath the cap. The barn fill varieties are bitter, as a rule, ami change color to blue or red when cm r bro'e-n The edible varie ties rein;.ol white Annie (lakes Hunt ington ii> Youth'- ' onipanion AN ODD BIRD SPECIES. ••lie Does tli<* < o:irtin&c a«11 «l ll#* Mont o. <»»«* \i«iMrrj Work. \V . phalaioo' is very common it iii :il parts of the northwestern ;>r. ii wherever there are grassy ;> • <>.■ lo 1 lis. 11 is a quiet, beauti ful i .- i 111 no Immodest out •rl . 112. . pi ttily along the moist oft!.,' loit'-'hs and not dis r elf 11 r our presence. From v i ':y s" .oupoint this plialarope, li ■:* o ie of its class, is . ah .i:..o:ig the birds. Ap • ly a land bird, it has partially 1 ' 1" scaih pi- I feet :* :d is a good • •elill swi-aaici-. The female is 1. ■" and handsomer of the pair. .• ii ; ! ie courliug and he most of the >.l ■ . in-ill incubation and nursery SU v »:i e.> tat isbaud .112 ail ania/.on, 1 o , 'lll. 1 .1 .d s;reiinoiis a young : s 1n...1 not tolerate a buck . i aroituil idle whc.i tliere is pl I work to tie done. For lu rp • t 1 v ■ ggs so iiiir that the ■ -liici.s ;iie ■ I.he i and able to run at ■>. ili is all 1.1 shout! re::-'o:iably be expected ii Their marital rela 'i oi i-e scamla-lous from ittr p -lot \. Two or three idle, . ain :i irioi; - i- nales are often seen devoll!!,; th -iaselves to oil" little male tii ■ ! ! 1 of t!i • ie s!iuseason, and 110 one -t ins 10 be sure whether or not lie is the husban I of any one or all of them. Anyhow, they are all head over t :rs in I >ve \.i;h him. Her bert K. Job in Outing Matrazine. INDIAN REMEDIES. Pccu!i.-i!• •■•cilb-.-il llctlioiiM I "I'll In llii* l'nr Kant. (Hr-.-at viri -s are ascribed to the •■iaw - a:, i ! -rns of certain animals. I'iger cl.iv. s are i;i great demand with the coi:iii!on people. One or two claws may hew >ru near the loins, but should one possess a l rger number the fortu nate owi.it uiakes a garland of them and wears tlieni around his neck. De r's ho. ;, . ( a nil into the paste is an j::t. !! ..t ! . ~., ; ,r pain and swellings. A more curious use is found for the same substance: it i* sometimes made in 1 o a p iwder which is sujiposed to aid the growth of stunted women. The joint - taken from the long and slender tail of the black scorpion are supposed to keep illness at arm's distance when children weat them 011 their waist thread. A red or swollen eye Is cured by hav ing it touched with the bolt or chain of a iloor. A remedy which I have seen applied w itli considerable effect in more than one epileptic fit is to place a bunch of key ; in the palm of the suffer er. I have heard it said that the fit passes away as readily if the keys are placed 011 the head. A rather quaint remedy in the case of a sprained neck Is to use an iron measure for a pillow. Sore throat h cured by spitting on redhot iron, quite the simplest and least expen ive cure known to the native do, !a. Peacock's tlesh and pigs ghee are the best medicines for acute rheu matism—Madras Mail. Kast cml West. The chief distinction between the genius of the eastern civilization and that of the west, according to an ori ental. lies in this: With you the indi vidual is the hul» of the universe—even charity begins r-1 home with you— while with us of the east it Is the whole, the state, not the individual, that we emphasize. An Individual is nothing: th ■ the whole, is every thing. n*e - icritice thousands of lu dividuals. v. • sa -rifice our children a.id 11 ' . - upon the altar of na thnal 1. without hesitation, with- The Home Paper ] 1 of Danville. Of course you read ,| II ilj w. i THE n-EOPLI-S 1 KQPULAR I APER. j Everybody Reads It. i I J t Publisher Every Morning Except Sunday a* I 1 No. ii E. Maho- ng St. Subscription 6 cen - Week. A FAMOUS DIAMOND. ( uriotis iit < it'.tMit In I li«- History of I l»e Kohinoor. The Koliino ir It'll into the hands of tin* ruler o!' Lahore and on the con quest of ilie Punjab became a posses sion • Qne.'ii Victoria In tlie year i • i lie I -l authentic mention of ihis iiiaichic-, L-ein is by an eastern Monarch, who refers to a "jewel valued ill one-half the daily expenses of the whole world." A century or two later the Persian <• imjueror of India, seeing til - diamond jrlitter in tlie turban of Ilie i li'oruinato rajah, exclaimed, with roti'di an 1 somewhat costly humor, "Come i.'i us change our turbans in 1 le-luv .»! i rieudship!" The exchange was promptly elected. The stone fell :ii last into the hands of the British, and pending its delivery to the crown Sir .1 >hn Lawrence, afterward I.ord I.awr:;:ice. was ma.le its guardian. ilis biographer. Bosworth Smith, re lies a curious incident of its custody, half ii 'consciously Sir John thrust It, wrapped up in numerous folds of cloth, in 1 j his waistcoat pocket, the whole be in ; i i an insignificant little box. lie continued the work upon which lie was engaged and thought no more of his precious treasure. He changed his cl-it,:r.s I ir idnner and threw his waist coat aside, still forgetting all about the little box contained in it. Some we,'Us afterward a message cauie from the viceroy saying that the • jue.Mi had. ordered the jewel to be im mediately transmitted to her. In a moment the fact of his careless ness Hashed across Sir .loan, but he slipped away to his private room and with his heart in his mouth sent for lii-i old bearer, of whom he asked: "Have you a small box that was In my waistcoat pocket some time ago?" "Yes, sahib," the man replied. "I found it and put it in your chest of drawers." "Bring it hrr„\" said Sir John. "Open it."he ordered when the little box had been produced, "and see what is In side." * He watched the man with teuse anx iety as fold after fold of the rags was taken off. "There is nothing here, sahib," said the old man at last, "but a bit of glass."—Sunday Magazine. Ilim Uri'ji (irlef. Visitor—l do hope that poor Jack, your brother. <ll >s not grieve too much nt my having broken our engagement. I feel sure lie must l>e very unhappy. What did lie say. dear? The Sister— Oh, h" saH >vhr»t a lucky thing it was v >'i brok;» ii ■ ■' this week instead of ti • t. .• < it • •! him from having to buy you t ! 'rth Vy 1 " out! T ACKAWANNA RAILROAD. " l3 LOO MSB IT RO DIVISION Delaware. Lackawanna and Weal en Railroad. In Effect Jan. 1, 1905. TRAINS LEAVE DANVILLE EASTWARD. 7.0T a. m.daily tor Bioomsburg, Kingston Wllkes-Barre ai.d Scranton. Arriving STau ton at 5.42 a. m..and connecting at Scrantoi with trains arriving at Philadelphia at 3.18 r m. an.i New York City at 8.30 p. IU. tO.lii a. in. weekly for Bioomsburg. Kiugsion Wilkes-Barre.Scranton and intermediate sta tions, arriving at Scran ton at 12.85 p. m. anf connecting th :re with trains for New Yort City, Philadelphia and Buffalo. •2.11 weekly forßloomsburg,Kingston,WilUei Barre. Scranton and intermediate stations arriving at Scranton a! 4.50 p. rn. 5.43 p. m.daily for Bioomsburg, Kspy, Ply mouth. Kiugston, Wilkes-Barre, Pittston, Scrauton and intermediate stations, arriving at Scranton at 5.25 p. ni. aadconnecting ther« with traiusarrivinc at New York City al o 5' a' m„ Phiiadelpeia 10 a. m.and Buffalo 7a m TRAINS ARRIVE AT DANVILLE 9.15 a. m. weekly from Scranton, Pittston, Kingston, Bioomslmrg and intermediate sta tions, leaving Scranton at K..55 a. 111., where It connects with trains leaving New Yors Citj at 9.H0 p m., Philadelphia at 7"2 p. ui. anC i Buffalo at 10.80 a. m. 12.11 p. ni. daily trom Scranton Pittston, Kingston, Berwick. Bloomsburg and interme diate stations, leaving Scranton at 10.10 a.m. and connecting there with train leaving Butt | ilo at 2.'/f> a. ni. 1.3K p. m. weekly om Scranton, Kingston. 1 Berwick. Bloomsburg and intermediate sta lions, leaving Scranton at 1.5.5 p. m., where 11 conrecrts with train leaving New York Cttj I ;it 10.00 a. in..and Philadelphia at S.OO a. in. i 9.05 p. in.daily from Scranton. Kingston I Pittston, Berwick. Bloomsburg and Interme ! dlate stations, leaving Sera ton at 6..5.5 p. m. where it connects with trains leaving New York City at 1.00 p. m.. Philadelphia at i'2.CK | p. nr. and Bußoio at 9.30 a. m. T. K. CLAKKK. (ien'i Sup't. T. W. I,KK. (ien Pass: \?i Mil I ■01?... 0 fe want to to all Ms of Printing ■I its mi II 111 FIB. j Its MM T ""h A well printec' tasty, Bill or Le \f / ter Head, Poste> A/ It Ticket, Circular Program, State L>J ment or Card '4 (V ) an advertisemen 1 for your business, a satisfaction to you Sew TUB, lew Presses, N ,, Best Pa* M: Stilled Fort, '' Frompness- Ml you can ask. • A trial will make you our customer. We respectfully asl that trial. 111 R No. 11 F.. Mahoning St.,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers