g ® SOME RELICS EROM THE NILE By C. B. LEWIS Copyright, 1906, by M. M. C'unniughaiu .) .) Any one of the reading public of Lon ion could have told you that the Hon. 'harles Bingham was a man seventy /ears old; that he had wealth; that he was democratic and rode around on top >f omnibuses; that he had fads; that •he greatest of his fads was picking up •ellcs and presenting tlieui to museums >f natural history throughout the klng lom. There was seldom a week that uls name was not in the papers, and en er any museum you might and you .vould be sure to run across cases label ed with his name and filled with his n the banks of the historic stream, le must have known of the Hon. 'harles Bingham, but be did.not call ipon the man or open correspondence, le dropped in at a club or two, said ery little, charmed everybody with his oodesty and refused all Interviews vlth reporters. It was not until the lon. Charles had sent one messenger nd then written a letter over his own ignature that Explorer Blake grudg agly consented to a meeting. At that lectins he named a few of his souve irs, but only a few. Nothing whatever vas for sale. The whole bag was togo j the New York Museum of Natural Ilstory. The attitude of Explorer Blake was hurlish, and yet after a few days he oftened enough to invite the Hon. iharles to a private inspection of his rensures. This invitation would not are been extended to any other man a the world. He appointed the hour i-hen he would call with a carriage, and e was there to the minute. It was the eneral idea that his stock of finds was a a warehouse, and he was supposed 0 be stopping at a hotel, but no one .•as certain of these things. The Hon. Charles didn't care where e was taken, so long as the relics of he Nile were at the other end of the ourney. He paid no attention to the treets they passed through and very ttle to the house at which they finally rrlved. He was ushered to the top '.ory, talking as he went, landed In a xim about twelve feet square lighted y a skylight, and when he looked about or the stock In trade he failed to find The only furniture 111 the room •as two old chairs. Explorer Blake >ok one and lighted a cigar, and the (on. Charles took the other and won ered what was eomlng next. He soon scertained. "My dear sir, I shall be very sorry to ut you to any trouble," began the cx lorer, "but the fact Is I am hard up | nd must raise $"">,000. That Is £.1.000 1 your money. I don't want to turn urglar or murderer. I want to be entle and nice about It." "JJow long have you been planning Us thing?" asked the Hon. Charles as * looked around the empty room and tumbled" to the fact that he had been tken In. "All of six months, and It has eost ; le considerable* hard cash." "And your figure Is £5,000, Is It?" "Not a penny less. When you have ,'ven me a check for the amount and le same has l>een cashed, you will be •stored to liberty. I shall not demand s one of the provisions that you prom « not togo to the police about It. In le first place, I have made my ar mgements to dodge them, and In the j ?xt you won't care to give yourself ' way and l>e made a laughing stock 112 •* "You reason logically." replied the on. Charles as he also lighted a cigar. "I have had this house hired for the st five months. I am supposed to be bachelor and fairly well off, having illy a man to cook and wait upon me. !ls name Is Thomas, and he is an ex dlent servant. You can rest assured lathe never will bring you Into rldl- Jle over this affair." "To sum up, my friend, this Is a put p job. I have been lured here in or »r that I may be forced to buy my berty. You want £5/(00. I must con •es that, while the price Is not extrav rant, i cannot see my way clear to lying It Just now. What conclusion may come to after three or four days cannot say." "Very well," replied the explorer. "It thirteen feet to the partly opened cyllght, with no chance whatever of >ur reaching It. Thomas will bring ju brend an l water three times a fy,' "nut fit i, g .t you shall have a . itiv s ti) ret on. Three days hence shall appear again. There Is no hur- j 7 about this thin.;. After my next ip'-arance the price of your liberty ill I e niKed to at the rate of £IOO per ty. You can afford to pay, and I can Tord to wait." i It whs o'clock In the afternoon | hen the Hon. ('harles Bingham was ft alone in the garret room. He did »t waste his energies by crying out tramping round. He did not look up the light except at long Intervals, le American was no fool. He had ken his precautions before bringing prisoner to the house. At 6 o'clock e man Thomas came In. One look him was sufilci -ut to prove that he as loyal to his master. He had a ank and honest face, but he also had keen eye and was stoutly built. He ought bread and water. He was re >ectful in his demeanor. "Sorry for your poor fare, your hon he observed, "but it only depends i you to get I etter. The evening pa ts may help you on a bit. I'll bring the mattress later. Also a candle." "A faithful servant is a jewel of rare •due." replied the captive as be ate and aranK ana seemed very mucn j.. home. Later on the mattress and a light were brought in, but not another word was spoken. The Hon. Charles was not a man who Jumped at conclu sions. That fo.OiH) could be paid with out feeling the loss, but he wanted to think things over a bit. Was he worth the ransom money to himself or the public? Was the American prepared to proceed to extremities in case he did not get his money? The Hon. Charles held that the London detective was the sharpest man on earth. The great man would be missed and a hue and cry raised. Would the sleuths strike the trail and follow it up? The room was rather warm that night, it being summer, but the cap tive managed to putin a very comfort able night. He was up and ready to bow to Thomas when the bread and water and morning papers were brought in, and he was in fairly good spirits at the end of the third day, when the explorer called for his an swer. It was not ready for him. on the contrary, the captive pleasantly observed: "You see, my dear sir. this experi ence is so unusual with me that I must have a little more time to think it over. At the end of another three days I shall doubtless be prepared to give you a definite answer." He was told that the three days would add £:;ix> to his ransom, but there was no argument over that. His captor retired, the same food and old mattress were brought In.and as the evening grew old the prisoner stretch ed out for a rest. He was falling asleep when he heard the skylight soft ly raised. Then he caught sight of a head and heard a voice asking: "Is there anybody down there?" "Only mo," answered the honorable as he realized that the voice belonged to a young girl. "Are you rich or poor, old or young?" "I am fairly rich, and I am a man seventy years old." "That won't do," said the girl. "1 am an orphan, living with my aunt In this rot*, ten doors below. If lam to rescue anybody, he must be young and rich and ready to marry me, the same as It is In the books. I'm sorry for you, but I must say good night." "But hold on a minute," called the captive. "I can't turn myself Into a young man, but I can give some nice young man money to marry you on. That will amount to the same thing, won't it?" "Why, yes; I uuppose so. Will you give £5?" "Yes—a hundred." The girl ran away without another word, but fifteen minutes later she dropped a rope down the opening, with one end made fast to a chimney, am the captive soon stood beside her. H«. found her a girl of only thirteen, but he dowered her liberally. He did not goto the police, but straight home. He did not seek the arrest of the ex plorer, but wrote him a polite note to say that, o wing to unforeseen circum stances, it would be impossible to mane any further appointments with him regarding the Vile relics. CURIOUS INSECT. A Hotterfly That Knjoyw Only FIT« Hour* of Life. It is in August that the naturalists observe the marvelous insect which is born, reproduces and dies in the period of a single night on the banks of the Maine, of the Seine and of the Rhine. It is the ephemere of which Siramnier dam has written and which is spokeD of la Aristotle. The life of this insect does not last beyond four or five hours. It dies to ward 11 o'clock In the evening after taking the form of a butterfly about six hours after midday. It is true, how ever, that before taking this form it has lived three years in that of a worm, which keeps near the border of water in the Holes which it makes in the mud. The change of this worm in the wa ter to an ephemere which flies is so sudden that one lias not the time to see It. If one takes the worm In the water the hand cannot be taken away before the change is made unless by pressing the worm slightly in the region of the chest. By this means it can be taken from the water before the change takes place. The ephemere, after leaving the wa ter, seeks a place where it can divest Itself of a fine membrane or veil, which entirely covers it. This second change takes place In the air. The ephemere assists itself with the point of Its little nails as firmly as it can. It makes a movement similar to that of a shiver; then the skin on the middle of the back breaks apart, the wings slip out of their sheath, as we sometimes take off our gloves by turn ing them inside out. After this strip ping the ephemere begins to fly. Some times it holds itself straight up on the surface of the water on the end of its tail, flapping its wings one against the other. It takes no nourishment In the five or six hours which are the limit of its life. It seems to have been formed but to multiply, for it does not leave its state of a worm until it is ready to deposit its eggs, and it dies as soon as they are deposited. In three days' time one sees appear and die all species of ephemere. They last sometimes until the fifth day, for the reason that some malady has af fected some of them and prevents them from changing at the same time as the others. A STUDY IN EYES. Michael Angelo had hazel eyes. Mohammed had coal black eyes. Milton had gray blue eyes, clear and round. Beethoven had small brown eyes, very mobile. Dante had. according to Boccaccio, large black eyes. Isaac Newton had blue eyes, small, bright and piercing. Cowper, physically timid, had weak blue eyes devoid of animation. # Harvey, the discoverer of the circu lation of the blood, had small eyes, full of spirit. Carlyle's eyes were described as "the very handsomest ever seen in a man's head - dark blue." • ■eiriiiK n r it. "What's the matter across the way?" asked the tailor of a bystander as the ambulance backed up to the door of his rival. "A customer fell in a fit, and they are taking him to the hospital," was the reply. "That's strange," said the tailor. "I never knew a customer to get a fit til that establishment before." I'reftrtM-e «112 Miml. After the railway accident: "Did yer got compensation. Bill?" \yiiy, I didn't know she wor' 'urt." "She wasn't, but I had the presence of mind to fetch 'er one on the 'ead with me boot."—London Tatler. "Burden V Fa. By CLAY MAKSDEN Copyright, lSUrt, by ltuby Douglas "Come right in," said the girl at the bead of the stairs. "I have been ex pecting you for an hour." "It is pleasant to be expected," laugh ed Burden. "That will do," said the girl sharply. "No impertinence or I shall report you to the janitress." Burden could not quite see what the janitress had to do with the matter, but he lifted the soft slouch hat that was a part of his fishing toggery and started to pass on up the stairs to his apartment. "Come in here," called the girl im periously. "You don't suppose that I came downstairs to meet you, do you?" She led the way through an open door, affording a vista of chaos, to the parlor of the apartment. "Those pic tures had better be hung first," she commanded. "I will tell you where." Burden gasped. For the first time he realized what was expected of him. She had mistaken him for a day work er for whom she had probably sent to aid her in straightening out her new home. The fact that he was in an old suit and had rung the nearest bell in !!;•• lobby because he had forgotten ! keys accounted for the error. It li:i;l Imvii her hell he had rung. She was expecting a man to help, and she had supposed that he was the one. ;'he had not been flirting after ail. Somehow Burden was rather glad of It. There would not be very much do ing in the street that afternoon, so he slipped o(T his coat and went to work. It was evident that the little woman intended to get the full worth of her money out of him, for she kept him busy, and under her skillful direction the flat soon assumed an appearance of orderliness he had not supposed pos sible in so short a time. She explained that her mother would arrive the next morning and that she "THAT Wll.il DO," SAID THE GlItL SUABF- I.Y NO IMPERTINENCE." was anxious to have things all in readi ness for her. On that plea she kept hiin working until 1) o'clock, but she was generous when she paid him off. Burden waited on the landing until she closed the door; then he ran up stairs to his own rooms and tumbled Into the tub. It had been hard work and hot, and he was glad of the chance to clean up. He had risen at 4 for a fishing trip and had made a long day, but he thought he would dress again and slip over to the club for a chat and a bite. At the foot of the first flight he came face to face with the girl. She recog nized him in spite of the change that evening clothes made and gave a little cry. "Then you were not the iuai» the janitress promised to send Up?" she said. Burden lifted his hat. "I admit it,"he began. "When I saw the mistake you had made and remem bered that 1 had seen Phil, the chore man, disgustingly intoxicated on my way in, I let you persist in your mis take that I might be of assistance." "And you let me pay you money," she reproached. "If you think 1 didn't earn it,"he 6miled, "I'll give it back." "But I made you earn it!" She shud dered as she thought of how she had driven him. "And I gave you 10 cents for a glass of beer." "Beer is only five," he explained. "Won't you have the other one? I guess that you must be as tired and as hungry as I am. You did your full share of the work, so won't you come and share the reward? I know that it's unconventional, but it will be such fun. Will you come?" The girl looked into his eyes. What she saw there must have satisfied her, for she turned to descend the stairs with him. "My name is Burden," he announced when they reached the street—"Na thaniel Burden, commonly known as Nat." "I nin Lois Trevor." she retorted. "I am glad to meet Mr. Burden." Burden tucked her arm through his and led the way to the street car. It was only a short ride, and Lois gave a little gasp when she saw the restau rant. "I did not realize how hungry I was until I began to wonder if they would serve an unescorted woman at this time of night." Burden glanced at the clock in the window It was only half past 10, but it seemed later to lier. "We won't worry about such things," he suggested. ".lust think about what is best to eat." Over the tasteful meal he had or dered s!;t! grew more communicative. She had come to the city to study mu sic, lie learned. There were only lier mother and herself left of a large fam ily. and they wanted to be together. There was in Burden's man ner mat in , ired commence, ana, al most without realizing it, she was chatting as with an old friend. The next afternoon he called to pay his respeets to Mr-. Trevor, and before long the two women had come to re gard Burden almost as one of the fam ily. He took them to concerts and the theater and formed the habit of drop ping in for a chat in the evenings when he was not going out. Then came the panic, and for a week many a firm's fate hung in the balance. The one in which Burden was a part ner was persistently Included in the list of the d uibtl'ul concerns, and then one afternoon tl ;> lat ■ editions came out witn the statement that the house harl been forced to suspend. Lois read the report feverishly, but when Burden came home late that night and wearily began to ascend the steps she was at the head of the flight to welcome him, calm eyed and quiet. "Mother wants you to come in and have some coffee," she pleaded. "We saw the papers and are so sorry." "I'll come gladly," he said as his drawn face lighted up. "I shall be glad to forget business for the mo ment. To find you waiting here like the tirst time we met is as unexpected as it is pleasant." "We could not sleep," she explained, "while you were in trouble. We want ed to know that all was well with you if not with the business." "You didn't suppose I was going to shoot myself in the true melodramatic fashion, did you?" he laughed. Lois shook her head. "It wasn't exactly that," she explain ed, "but we thought it might not seem so hard if you had a chance to rest up a little before you went to your rooms." lie followed her into the tiny din ing room, where a dainty cold lunch was spread. "Cast your restaurant meals on the water and they will come back in the shape of real home stuff," he laughed. "I hope this lunch will do you as much good as that other supper did ine." said Lois earnestly. "More," he protested. "There is only one thing I should like better." "And that?" she asked. "A meal in our own home," he ex plained. "Is there hope for me, Lois?" The girl nodded her head. "You are—so handy about the house," she explained to cover her confusion. "That's a good recommendation," lie laughed. "If the firm really does fail I think 1 shall hire out by the day." "If," she echoed. "Just that," he continued. "It was a trick to throw the market. We are solid enough, but the sensational sheets turned rumor into what purported to be a statement of facts. You see, you will not have to carry a beggar after all." "I don't care what you are, Nat," she said tenderly, "so that you are you." v Are We u Courteous People? Are we as Americans as courteous in all our relations of life as well dis posed visitors occasionally think us? Are we as courteous as mixed Mood, equitable laws and a prevailing senti ment of self respect might be reason ably expected to make us? Do we not sometimes confound issues, confuse disinterestedness with politeness and believe that because good breeding comes from the heart all good hearted people are consequently well bred? j Yet there are men and women who stand ever ready to help their fellow creatures and who are seldom or ever polite to them. Dr Johnson was one of the kindest of men, but of that courtesy which respects the feelings as well as the rights of others he had nev er the faintest perception. "Now, what harm does it do a man to contradict him?" he used to say, and contradic tion was tiie guiding principle of his talk. It is a guiding principle with people of much less intelligence today, and it gives to conversation a rough acerbity, destructive alike of pleasure and persuasiveness. It is supposed to be a masculine prerogative, but, like other masculine prerogatives, has been usurped by an advance guard of wom en.— Delineator. WOUNDING A FIRE. An Oild inn Thut Date* Itnck to Ancient Time*. A curious modern attempt to ration alize one of the oldest of superstitions Is to be found La Kipling's "Life's Handicap." There Mulvaney checks the author from stirring the lire with Ortheris' bayonet 011 the ground that lire takes the heart out of the steel. The real reason Is much more mysteri ous. It was one of the maxims of Pythagoras "not to stir the fire with a sword," and to this day the wander lug tribes of North America and of northeast Asia hold It a sin to take up a burning ember for a pipe light with the point of a knife. The ex planation is undoubtedly given by Jo liaunes tie Piano Carpini %.hen he tells as that one of the Tartar superstitions 1 concerns "sticking a knife Into the lire : or In any way touching the fire with a knife or even taking meat out of the j kettle with a knife or cutting near the Are with an ax, for they believe that so the head of the lire would be cut I off." This is evidently connected with the j ancient idea that tire is a living crea- j ture, a sacred animal, which must not be wounded by Its human owners In case it should be annoyed and deprive them of its valuable services. Is this in any degree more irrational than the belief still existent among housekeep ers that a feeble lire can be made to j burn up by laying the poker across it. —London Outlook. TEA BUGS AND TEA MITES. They Are the l'lnifaen of the Annum Tea t;ar»lenn. Every animal and plant has its para site, aud from this general law, it seems, the tea plant is not exempt. Two insects are described as spending their lives in tea drinking. They are the plague of the Assam tea gardens and are known as the tea bug and tea mite. The mites spend their entire lives 011 the tea plant and are never known to attack any other leaf. They live In families aud societies on the upper side of the full grown leaf aud spin a delicate web for a shelter. They then puncture the leaves and pump out the liquid in the plant veins. They seem to become very dainty in their tastes, for a sprinkling of mud dy water over their floor and tea table Is the only remedy known to check their ravages. Even this Is not al ways effectual. The tea bug Is still more destructive and Is evidently possessed of an ap preciation of the best kinds of tea, since It always attacks those of a mild and delicate flavor. Such as af ford harsh and rasping liquors are al most entirely free from its attacks. — London Chronicle. Cuutlou. "Sister Henderson," said Deacon Hy pers, "you should avoid even the ap pearance of evil." "Why, deacon, what do you mean?" asked Sister Henderson. "I observe that on your sideboard you have several cut glass decanters and that each of them Is half filled with what appears to be ardent spirits." "Well, now, deacon, it isn't anything of the kind. The bottles look so pretty on the sideboard that I just tilled them halfway with some floor stain and fur niture palish Just for appearances." "That's why I'm cautioning you, sis ter," replied the deacon. "Feeling a trifle weak and faint, I helped myself i to a dose from the big bottle In tl •• -middle."—Life. barney's Foil'tone j By Constance D'Arcy Mackay i Copyright, l! (i, by 11. JSulclitfc | It was spriu ; i:i Ballymoran, and the turf had taken <>ll fiat vivid green seen nowhcie beyond the shores of Ire land. Tlie pun,' 'in peat smoke drifted lazily against the intense blue of the sky. Thrushes sang on the boughs of guarh-d apple trees that skirted the •low stone walls. Barney thought he never had seen the village look love lier; but, then, is every one knew, Bar ney was the most happy-go-lucky lad in the parish. A thatched sses ions; but "Light of purse and light of heart." h > often said, "is bet ter than riches and the gout." He found only one drawback in poverty, aud th.'.l wa - that he could not ask Eilten Kearny 1 > marry him till he had more to offer her. Yet hope i.-- always astir when one is young, and Barney knew that with thrift and perseverance he could lay by enough; s >. rain or shine, he worked in the peat bogs with a song on his lips, for he felt that every penny he laid by was bringing Eileon nearer to him. He thought of this exultantly as he strolled with her in tiie long twilights when the wind was as soft as a caress end the scent of apple blossoms came faintly 011 the. air. Eileen was like an apple blossom her self, to Bay's thinking. She had the ! »ame delicate coloring and a grace as : airy as the swaying of a bough. Yet ;if she loved him she gave no sign. If i she smiled 011 him she also smiled on his cousin Hugh, a sullen mouthed lad 1 far more prosperous than poor Barney. Eileen divided her favors equally, | and the village looked 011 and wonder ed which man would win. Now fate | seemed Inclined toward one and now toward the other. The villagers themselves inclined to -1 ward Barney Every one liked him, u ' TI3MY hlai:t i'vk lost,"she answeijed. from the bir legged children to the wrinkled women who cowered above the hearthstone . He was a favorite, too, with his old j uncle. S:\> 1;« ; McShane, who had left Ireland for America years before when S Barney was only a bit of a lad. But | his uncle wrote t > him every year, and i ! t was an accepted fact that Barney 1 wor.ld be 1: - heir, though the legacy 1 was a tlil: . of the dim future—so dim that it 1 riily made a background for ! present lie"..'. S< i - McNhaiie ("line of a sturdy, long I veil r. ce. Therefore It was with ! a d i ' • t -hock that one tine spring morni g Barney received notice of his uncle's . Ui. The lad's tirst feeling | was on" sorrow that Seamus should have di; i i:i a far land without either ! kith n. ■ ■ t his 11:1 le was only a 'me > \ pardonable that his nc .' ' ' ■ >ll • of joy at the pos ; sibi;.' opened to him, for now he ! could luarr;. Eileen. llow much he j had fallen heir to he did not know, but I gue' it to be in the neighborhood of 1 £4O- ! >t a large sum In Itself, though It seemed like riches to the folk of that wind swept, famine ridden village. As the news of Barney's fortune sped : his popularity trebled. "I always Lad a fondness for the i bov,'* said Biddy Mcßrlde. " 'Tis a foine lad he Is entolrely," agreed old Donnelly. Ba-ii"' carried himself modestly | enough, "lie was ii - idering fiddler. - H the Village -w as t' ere save Hugh, a J . :o : o; ■ Tied t ' kr> >w where he had l -r v.! : 1 h d become of him. ;.1 ,112 ih- 1 liiklreu vouchsafed the . 1 H'iii.i, >.l that he hail been seen rid i r.v. a. i ,i.i Dullyn. 'ran at a brisk • a ;■ r a e ce of news to which Bar ney ii I■ . i. so engrossed was h • i 1 • u . lee.l as she swung i:: 1 •: yes alight and step as ... V It .eemed to Bar • i ? ■ > a■. er li.nl been sj happy. '< '.eat lat ag his guests prom- ' 1 > ili, one and that and dy h • . t • t-ranks they gave i .. : a .a. Bre -ally the door : • 1 .. . iii .(ppeared among j • .. are, aviek," said Bar u ; . * ieat \ . e 11 me t lie less wel- J con 0." ""lis tr"om the past fflce I am." an swered tiUgii and < few from the pocket ii h: t'l-i b •s.ntie/ed coat an oili er; I " pe. Lite seal of which was i.ot • (>t: broken. "j.elike '$ s from Uncle Seamus," Ilv.gh v.-eai a. and the guests gathered rot',lll him. wiiile Eileen held the can dle that he inigbt read. Bar: y ?at • a a table near by. Bwtng iu'r It i'eet lie sf>ie a glance at Eiieea and noted the shadow the can dle threw across her face and how her dark 1: s'nes swept the rose of her ch 'ek. "Arrah. my darlint," he wliis pere l to h a: elf. "before this evenin's pine I'll aa . e your promise:" Then he C i.npo-ei himself to listen to Ihe let ter. It was very brie!' b;-ief as the hopes of Barney, f>r ii was to Hugh that tea 11s lie; ha :.e had left his fortune. When Hugh had finished reading the letter the guests drew long breath. Barney was the tirst to come forward and congratulate him. "Satire, there's no oue more deserv in r of it than your-elf," he said steadi ly, lint his voice was lost iu the gen eral acclaim, for Hugh had become the he oof the e,p;dng. The attentions that had formerly been showered on Barney wore now lavished on him. Ilis good fortune went to his head like wiue. "Since I'm the heir," he cried, "ye must all come home with me and drink rei e-mbraace > t'nele Seamus!" This was givete.i \\i;!i a shout of acquies cence. The lubller started up "The Bocky Boad to Dublin," and, singing and laughing, the guests danced out the door. A f*w paused long enough t > say good night to- their host and could not pass without a word at his expense. t >oll't forget my re;l petticoat," saj s Biddy Mcßride. "and the package of lay ye were lor giving me." "Nor the baccy ye promised," chuc kled old Donnelly, "and the dhudheen I'll likely l e slnoking next week!" To which Barney answered gayly enough, smiling with set lips. He had kept up gallantly before them, yet, after all, he was only a lad, and when the last guest had gone and his cabin was de serted he sat down by the table and burled his face iu his arms. Deeper than the disappointment over the money was the thought that Eileen had gone without so much as a word. "She'll marry Hugh," groaned Barney between his teeth. "She'll marry Hugh. And. och. ii there's a miserable lad in (lie country that same is myself!" The door ere iked on its hinges. "'Tis only the win thought Barney. Then something laa e him turn and look, j Eileen stood .a the door way. "Have ye I '.'i -.vaateihing?" said Bar- j ney, starting t > his feet. Eileen's eye w re very bright and ! tender. r " ~~ ~~ i Home I j; . . " ' i ! ! Of course you read ——— 1 11 wiii :l; l[ i\ i 1 11 THE F| EOPLE - s ! 1 1 POPULAR I A PER. - j i Everybody k : ids !t, I | ' i / I Publisher Every Morri Except l Sunday . j j . No. i! L Msh. ng St, I j | Suhsc icn c j' r Wy. h • liotli of yez." I '"Tis tut Hugh that has my heart," I crierl Kilco;;: "'tis— ah, Barney, can ye j not sc ■ can ye not understand" — | "Shure shu ». it's never me ye ! mean?" gu-qi'd Harney. "Why, Eileen, girl, I'm poor"— Suddenly a light broke on him. and he caught her to his IK :it. "No," he cried, "I'm the richest i man in the whole wide wurruld!" Thus fortune came to Barney after | u ii. Ttvo Sltii'M to It. "I.i-)!; at this, will you?" exclaimed I the leal e-tate and house renting opti mist. in this paper there is a record j of eighty-?- ••. <*:» marriage licenses Is sued .vector lay." j "Well, what of it V" said his partner, j the itnist of the firm, who was lean i ing back in a chair with his hat pulled ' down over his eyes, j "What of itV" echoed the other, j "<>,;i't you see? Those eighty-seven marriage licenses mean eighty-seven in;!' -:-iges. ihe eighty-seven marriages ! will lead to eighty-seven Inquiries for !••)!• . fl-it at least eligible apart ! ments. it's bound to stimulate business in our lino, ::'at we'll get our share." "That doesn't follow at all. Tbose eight even licenses represent 174 per | s »;i .. don't they V" I "Yes." "Probably all adults?" "UndouMr ily. What of it?" "Nothing." growled the pessimist, ; "except that 174 persons who have hitherto occupied 171 apartment* will hereafter occupy eighty-seven. Yon i give me n pain. i»ber- That she could feel thnt I put a ; reat deal of myself Into my work stippler Well, that's praise. Doll t? The picture 1 showed her w« ; " ! • !» j» Meadow." T ACKAWANNA RAILH'- - - D Ai -BLOOMSBURH DIVISION Delaware, Lackawanna and Westeri Railroad. In Effect Jan. 1, 1905. TRAINS LEAVE DANVILLE EASTWARD. 7.07 a. m. dally tor Bloomsburg, Kingston Wilkes-Barre ai.d Scranton. Arriving Stsb ton at 9.42 a. m., and connecting at Scrantor with trains arriving at Philadelphia at 8.16 a in.and New York City at 8.30 p. m. 10.19 a. m. weekly for Bloomsburg. Kingston Wilkes-Barre,Scranton and intermediate sta tions, arriving' at Scranton at 12.35 p. in. anf connecting there with t rains for New Vort City, Philadelphia and Buffalo. 2.11 weekly forßloomsburg,Kingston,Wilkei Burre, Scranton and intermediate stations arriving at Scranton at 4.f>U |>. m. 5.43 p. m.daily for Bloomsburg, Espy, Ply mouth, Kingston, Wilkes-Barre, Pittstoii Scranton and intermediate stations, at Scranton at 5.25 p. m.and connecting th> with trainsarrivine at New York City p.to . r . j a- m., Phiiadelpeia 10 a. m.and liullaio'a n. TRAINS ARRIVE AT DANVILLE 9.15 a.m. weekly from Scranton. Pit tutor, j Kingston, Bl.oomsburg and intermediate sta ! tions, leaving Scranton at 6.35 a. m. where li connects with trains leaving New Yor Cit} iat 9.30 p. in., Philadelphia at 702 p. in. anC ! Buffalo at 10.30 a. m. 12.44 p. m. dally lrota Scranton Pitts to i< ! Kingston, Berwick, Bloomsburg and interine | diate stations, leaving Scranton at 10.10 a. n. i and connecting there with train 'eaving Buff [ alo at 2.25 a. m. 1.38 p. m. weekly om Scranton. Kingston. Berwick. Bloomsburg and intermediate sta ( tions, leaving Scranton at 1.55 p. m., where it ! connects with train leaving New York Cltj ! at 10.00 a. m..and Philadelphia at 9.00 a. m. i 9.05 p. in.daily from Scranton. Kingston, i Pittston, Berwick. Bloomsburg and interme ! diate .stations, leaving Scranton at 6.3-5 p. m. where it connects with trains leaving Nay | York City at 1.00 p. m„ Philadelphia a! 12.01 j p. m.and Buffoio at 9.30 a. m. T. K. CLARKE. Gen'l Snp't. T. W. LEE. (Jen. Pass. Agt. 1 ill! imnL. ffe wait to in all Ms of PtiitlJi | | a 11! rs ii.i IIN Pl«. j II'! Ml! I A. well j tasty, Bill c .■ \f / ter Head, \ A/Z Ticket, Cir Program, T; . ment or Caret (V ) an advertiser for your business satisfaction toy >1? lew Type, lew Presses, x ,, Best Paper, Stilled m A Promptness \ll you can ask A trial wiii msk t . you our custome? We respectfulb' us» that trial. No. II H. Mahoning St.. 2= 2= 4*.