STUCK FAST J> TIIE CHIMNEY.
The Ludicrous Predicament of an Incnu
tioiiH Nergo Thief
Atlanta constitution.
PALMETTO, February 16.—A ludicrous
attempt to commit burglary occurcd hero
last night. A negro named Bob Nails
spent some time yesterday afternoon In
the store of Mr. F. Hopkins, and decided
on bis plan to get in the store last night.
So when night came he went to the rear
window in the store and broke out the
glass, but failed to get In because of the
iron bars across the wiudow.
He then conceive,d the idea of going
down the chimney, so he climbed up on
the awning and from there to the top of
the house, which is only one story high.
He then to rid himsef of all encumbrances
and make himself as small as possible,
stripped himself of every article of his
clothing, left them on top of the house,'
aud slipped himself Into the chimney ;
but the chimney, Instead of being one
with the old-fashioned large Hue aud
large, opeu fireplace, was one built for a
grate in which to burn coal, and had a
very small flue and throat, consequently
when Nails ;got about two-thirds of the
way down he stuck.
He could neither go down or up, so
there he stuck from 12 o'clock till day.
He yelled and sung, but could get no help
until parties went in the stoic to make a
tire in the morning, when lie made his
presence known to keep a fire from being
built under him. They got a couple of
negro men to go on top of thehousc and
let down a rope, which the thief got hold
of, and they pulled him out, when he had
the appearance of being covered about a
quarter of an inch thick with soot. He
made a full confession, waived commit
ment trial, and went to jail.
THOSE QUADRUPLETS
Are Carefully Cuiiniud From I'ryiuq; l-'.yes
by Order of (he Doctor.
Mrs. M. Newton, of Everson, near
Scottdale, who gave birth, a few days
ago, to four perfectly formed girls, is still
the talk of the town. When I)r. A. J.
Rogers made his visits there Friday a
largo number of ladies braced him to let
them go in a'.so aud take a view of the
quadruplets, hut he refused. The history
of the Newton family is interesting. Mr.
and Mrs. Nowton are of Irish birth, botli
having been horn in Cork, Irelaud, where
they became aequaiuted and were mar
ried. Shortly after their marriage they
emigrated to this country and located at
Everson, wlitre Mr. Newton got work iu
the miues, and has been there ever since.
Mrs. Eliza Newton is the mother of two
boys, three girls, more properly nine,with
the quartette of girls horn yesterday
inornitig.
She is about live feet two inches in
stature, fair complexion, and is mod
erately educated.
Mike Newton, who is an out-and-out
Irishman, is Ave feet eight inches in
height, weighs about 150 pounds and is
only an ordinary looking man. ilis hair
is inclined to be sandy. By hard work
he has secured for himself a little home
in Everson, and unless some
thing unforeseen takes place he has
now an opportunity to make large sums
of money. It is understood he has already
received flattering offers to place the
four girls on exhibition, if they live, and
there is now every prospect that they will,
and remain healthy.
Mrs. Newton herself is one of the t win
daughters of her mother, wiio lives in
, Ireland. She never had more than one
child at a birth before yesterday morning.
Dr. A. J. Rogers, their physician, said
after he made his visits to-day that the
mcther and children were doing well, and
the inference drawn was that tliey would
surely live. He said they resembled four
peas, and you could not possibly tell them
apart, as even the lines on their faces and
on their heads are exactly alike.
They are very lively, and when they ery
you think you wiH meet with MoQ-inty's
fate. Rev. Lambing christened them
yesterday, aud after they had been
named, Mrs. Newton herself could not
distinguish them by their names.
Dr. Rogers will not admit anyooe to
see them for ten or twelve days yet, when
it is expected the danger line will he
passed. The doctor is quite confident of
bringing them through all right.
Legislature will likely he pctitiond to
make a provision for the Newton family.
Evergreen Num'rieH,
Of Evergreen, Wisconsin, claims to be
the largest nursery of the class in America.
It now contaius several millions of small
Evergreens, comprising some fifty vari
. eties, and about the same number of Orna
mental Trees aud Flowering Shrubs.
These Nurseries now serve about three
thousand customers annually, whose
orders range all tho way from one dollar
to one thousand dollars or more each. A
stenographer and type-writer is employed
for the correspondence. During the dig
ging and packing season twenty-five to
thirty men are employed and about fifteen
to twenty are required to take care of the
trees during the growing season. These
' Nurseries are making a specialty of plants
for Evergreen Hedges, and have several
millions ready for sale, of three or four
of the most popular varieties.
Their prices on Tree Seedlings arc
much below any others we have seen. It
will pay any of our readers thinking of
planting un Evergreen Hedge, or any other
ornamental trees or shrubs, to send a
postal card to these nurseries asking for
their Catalogue.
Hon. A. A. Barker, who is now so"
journing in Ihe South, writes a lengthy
letter in Ihe Cambria Herald.
Prince Bismarck is a miller, a paper
maker, a brickmaker, an ironmaster, a
coal miner and a brewer.
LOST ILLUSIONS.
This is the fairy forest of my dream,
Where licroes rode in glittering armor flight—
And the tall trees in the jiale moonshine seein
To whisper tales of long ago, to-night
Methlnks the flowers are hushed in sleep, nor see
The mystic symbols which upon the moss
The white moon casts through yonder swaying
tree —
Where I in solitary search must cross.
It is the same old fairy forest still;
But where are all the heroes dressed In gold?
And where the nymplis who beckoned me until
I thought them real—ere yet the world was old?
I seek them Bow, hut they elude my quest:
Lost dreams of youth and faith are ne'er re
stored;—
Fori myself am he whose hands did wrest
The substance from the visions I adored.
—Felix N. Clcrson in Philadelphia Ledger.
ONE SUBSCRIBER.
Phoebe Muuiford came down to break
fast one morning in very low spirits.
There sepmed no doubt that the mortgage
would be foreclosed at last. 11 er father's
mind failed more and more. Everything
was forlorn and wretched. She had been
gazing tit a rose colored picture of the
past to which distance lent enchantment.
She saw Iter buxom, comfortable, loving
mother: her young aunts, who petted
her; a kind though grave father: a lover,
Billy Barton, who adored Iter, and went
away to sea and who had not been heard
of since. There was a little misunder
standing that site was too proud to ex
plain. Now how gray and dull was life!
The dear mother gone, and though
doubtless site watched over her daugh
ter, human eyes cannot see those loving
angels. The aunts married; one in Cali
fornia, one in Colorado, one in Canada,
with families of their own. The father
changed, since the terrible illness that
followed his wife's sudden death, to a
trembling, querulous shadow, who re
quited all her love and tenderness by
finding fault with ber for her having
been born a girl.
"If 1 had a son," he used to say,
"things wouldn't go to rack and ruin
while I'm poorly. It's the only fault I
ever found with your good mother, that
she had a girl instead of a hoy."
"Poor father! he used to he so differ
ent," Phoebe would say to herself; "and
it isashame that lain notayoung man."
But still, when a woman finds herself
unappreciated, her heart must ache.
A son never would have made the
feeble old man so comfortable, waited on
him so patiently, spared him so much.
The "bound girl," little Hannah Jane,
from the poor house, was bright and
tractable, hut there was still much to do;
all woman's work, though: nothing that
could keep the heavy mortgage from fore
closing, or tlie man who farmed what
land there was left "on shares" from
cheating them unmercifully: <othing
that brought money in.
Phoebo felt that, and it pained her
more than the thought that her thirtieth
birthday was close at hand, though no
woman ever lived who did not shrink
from that thouglft with a -shiver of
'horror.
Wiping the tears away, Miss Phoebe
left the table and took up the newspaper
—a big New York paper full ctf politics,
which she read to her father>every day
and which was almost his only pleasure.
She glanced down the column of deaths
and marriages, and saw there no name
that she knew. She read an account of
the appearance of the sea serpent at the
shore near a curtain hotel, and of a
frightful murder that made her blood
run colli. She read the wise words of
the weather prophet, who predicted a
rising barometer, and glanced over the
advertisements. "Spinkins' electric col
lar button, warranted tp cure every
thing," offered testimonials from kings
and warriors, and tempted her to go
down and buy one for pa—or would, had
she had the money to throw away on a
cruel imposture.
DOBBS& CO., on receipt of tec cents and a
stamped and directed envelope, will send to any
lady or gent leman directions liovr to make a for
tune at their own homes.
She was not much impressed by this
magnificent offer. But here was some
thing:
WAITED In our office, a lady of education and
refinement, a good talker, who has read a great
deal. Salary s."io por week. Apply at once in
person. Church member preferred.
•COZZEN & OC.,
No. street.
'•Dear me!" cried Phoebe to herself,
"fifty dollars a week! I think I am re
fined. I certainly have had a good edu
cation. I read everything I .can get to
read. I am a church member. If I
could "et Ihe plaoe, I could go to busi
ness regularly like a man, give pa
most of the fifty dollars a week, save
the place, perhaps, and certainly buy
the electric -collar button."
Visions of her father restored to health
and vigorous old age; of the mortgage
paid off; of herself kneeling at her
father's feet while his hands rested on
her head and said: "My daughter, I no
longer regret that God never gave me
a son, since he sent ine you," rushed
through her mind. She slipped from
the big horse hair covered arm chair,
and, kneeling before it, hid her face in
its great, dimpled back, and with her
handkercuief to her eyes, prayed to be
helped. And when she arose it seemed
to her that a strong, unseen hand led
her; that there could be nothing to fear
or dread; nothing before her hilt success.
She gave her father his breakfast with
many smiles, and faily laughed when he
said: "Now, if yon were a boy you could
just go along with mo to the polls and
vote for Puflingham. I want that man
to bo elected; he's got the right views
about property. But you're a girl, poor
thing—a girl."
Little ho knew what was in her mind.
She read the political articles through
and had just time to catch the train,
giving Hannah Jane directions for the
dinner,
"If I get the place, old Mrs. Williams
must come and live here," she said to
herself, as she walked. "I'd feel per
fectly sale then, and 6he'd bo glad to
have the spare room and her board."
A fresh color was on her cheek, and a
bright sparklo in her eye as she stepped
into tho car. She wore her very best
things—precious and well saved—but
she must look her best. And she did;
for hope is as great a beautifier as fresh
bonnet strings, and when reaching No.
street site climbed tiie long and
rather dirty stairs until she reached the
office of G'nzzen & Co., with a hopeful
heart.
The door of the room stood open. The
opposite roofs were visible through the
unshaded windows. Some girls stood at
a table folding pamphlets; others sat at
another directing envelopes. Behind a
barricade of walnut desk and iron rail
ing sat a portly gentleman, bland, and
wearing a good deal of white hair, from
which a pair of round, black eyes, and a
very round nose, blackened at the nos
trils with snuff, peered out and gave him
the appearance of one of those poodles
which belles of years ago were fond of
carrying about with them,
Another lady, with downcast eves, was
gliding from the room; and another
woman, with rather a coarse manner,
tossed Iter head in indignation as she
pushed past the first.
"Poor tilings! they have applied for
the place and have liot got it," said
Phoebe; but .she could not feel sorry.
The portly gentleman arose behind
his railings as she looked toward him,
and bowed.
"Walk in," lie said. •
Phoebe also bowed politely.
"Your advertisement"— she faltered.
"Yes, yes," said the gentleman, "I un
derstand. We have had throngs of la
dies here. H'm! Sit down."
"I do not know what your position is,
sir," said Phoebe, feeling very brave
almost like the son her father had al
ways wished for, she thought; "but I
can do mv best. 1 have an education.
lam a church member. I read a great
deal. 11 hiuk I can talk a little ou a sub
ject I understand. And amongst so
many books"—she glanced at the shelves
—"I certainly should find the employ
ment congenial; only I must go out of
town every night,"
"That would lie very easy," said the
gentleman. "You could arrange your
hours to suit yourself. You are exactly
the person we want. I see in your face
that expression I look for in vain in so
many faces—intelligence." The gentle
man gave a little leap on his chair and
spread his hands abroad. "Vivacity!"
He repeated the action. "And with a
fine personal appearance. You are the
very woman we need. I speak in a
purely business way. We must think of
these tilings. You suit us."
Could it be? Could if be? Phoebe
trembled with joy. Fifty dollars a week
—her dreams realized—her father happy!
Meanwhile the gentleman arose from his
seat.
"This." said lie, taking a thick volume
from a shelf, "is the volume."
Phoebe looked at it with a happy smile
and waited for more.
"Have you ever taken subscriptions?"
asked the gentleman.
"No," said Phoebe; "but I"
"Ah, ves. you will be very successful,
I am sure," said the gentleman. "We
give you a list of streets, numbers, names
of residents. You call with the book;
ask to see Mrs. So and So, or Mr. So and
So; send up your name; your card is
preferable. You rise when the person
enters; say 'How do you do, Mrs. So and
So? I feel that you would be interested
in this work and called to show it to
you.' You then talk in such a manner
that the person subscribes for the book.
On receiving the money we give you the
percentage. You see?"
"Yes," said poor Phoebe, who, under
the revulsion of feeling, was on the verge
of a fainting fit. "Yes. It is like the
man with 'Dosem's Family Medicine,'
and the other books, who comes to our
house sometimes. But you give fifty
dollars per week?"
"Fifty, dear madam!" cried the man.
laughing and rubbing his hands gayly.
"At ten cents on each book you can
easily get a hundred subscribers a day—
six hundred a week; sixty dollars for
the six days' work. With your mesmeric
power—l see it in your eyes—you will
make more."
Poor Phoebe -began to feel better. It
would be terrible work; not at all what
she supposed: but —anything, anything
for father and the homestead!
"This is a specimen copy," said the
gentleman. "You buy this little book
for your names. It hae a pencil attach
ed; twenty-five cents. And you leave
one dollar deposit for the book."
"Is that necessary?" sighed Phoebe.
"Well, we exact it of all," said the
amiable Mr. Cuzzeu. "What would you
have? We can't make exceptions; we
should offend others."
Phoebe paid the dollar and a quarter,
took the book and walked away, glancing
at the outline of her "beat," which was
far up town.
The book was a collection of receipts,
advice to youth, selections from Bryant's
poems and fun from old jest books. It
had also many patent medicine adver
tisements bound between its covers, and
four or five portraits of "beauties" with
their heads on one side and a simpering
smile upon their faces.
Poor Phoebe! she hoped against hope
as the street ear took her up town, and
still cherished much more of that com
forting emotion than could have been
expected, when her feet touched the red
hot flagstones of Fifty-seventh street,
and the tall residences stared down at
her with half their doors closed with
those wooden barriers that say to all
who look, "Family gono to Europe."
But yet there were 6teps that might bo
climbed, and Miss Mumford climbed
them patiently.
She saw asweet, old lady, who beamed
on her and said:
"We've such a large library now, we
can't really add to it. There's not room
in the houso for another book."
She saw a sarcastic lady, who said:
"Greatly obliged for the attention. It
is a wonderful book—wonderful, but I
couldn't understand it. I liavo to read
lighter tilings. My brain, you know,
won't bear too much."
She saw a decided lady, who said:
"No, no, indeed! oh, no!" and opened
the door.
She saw a contemptuous young lady,
who simply shook her head, and rang
for a footman to "show this person out." :
Then she saw a grandpapa with a dyed
mustache and an eye glass, who was gal
lant and offensive. Then she received
many "not at homes" from angry ser
vants, who knew her errand well, and
felt that they had been troubled to open
the door unnecessarily. After many long,
hot, wasted hours she found that her |
nest number was a drug store, and en
tered it. thankful for its cool shadow.
She was hot, thirsty, wretched. She
longed for a glass of the ice cold soda
water, but had only a little change,
which must serve for fares, in her pocket.
She stood before the counter and re
peated Ju.r little story—her talk about
the book. The druggist smiled as he
glanced at the volume.
"I vould not half such drash in mine
house," lie "aid. "You vaste your dime
mit a book like dis."
"It seems worthless to me," said poor f
Phrvlic. sighing.
"You get (look in, like some oder beo- '
pies, mit dent rascals." said the German.
"You look dired, madarne, and not veil. ;
Go home and re*t—l atvise you as a doc
tor."
A customer, who had been looking at ,
her, threw down the price of a tooth ;
brush he had bought, and seizing his
purchase, followed Phoebe out of the j
door. I
"Let me see your hook, madarne," he j
said. "Very nice; I'll subscribe. Give j
me your book, I'll write my name and i
residence."
He did so. Phoebe thanked him, and
tried to read it, but the letters danced
before her eyes. Her head was so hot,
so heavy, she must go back to Mr. Coz
zoti's, get her dollar, give in her sub
scription. till him that site had failed.
She would feel better after she had
rested, she thought—better. How kind
that man had been. But he subscribed
for her book—she knew it well—out of
sheer pity: as one gives alms to a beg
gar.
She was in Mr. Cozzeu's office again.
He looked at her out of his bush of white
hair. His black eyes and black nose
more poodle liko than before.
She had w astcd her day, risked sun
stroke. failed in her effort, and crushed
her hopes. What did lie care, if he had
one subscription more? A book agent
was almost suretoget one. and hundreds
toiled over the earth every day with the
sanio result*.
"V, ry fo-.1i.-h to give it up so," lie de
clared. "The first day never counts. I
have kdics on my list making a hundred
dollai > a week who got no subscribers on
the first day, and— Oh, your dollar:
Yes, yes! And here is your percentage—
ten cent-. But you ought not to despair
when yon have secured the name of
Capt, Barton on vour list. Well, good
day."
She was gone, threading the streets
that led to the firry. The I Hint first;
then the train. Was that the train com
ing? What a roar! How black it was!
She staggered, but she did not fall to
the ground. Some one caught her in
his arms.
Oitof darkness, out of rest, out of
strange communion with her mother in
another world, Phoebe floated back to
life again. A woman sat beside her and
fanned her.
"She's all right now," said a voice of
the family doctor order. "Only faint
mess; not sunstroke."
Then peace again: and waking, much
better.
"My poor father!" she siglic-d. "He
must be so terrified! Some one has been
•so kind: but let me get to my father at
■once."
"All in good time," said the motherly
woman at her side.
"Your father won't be anxious, Phoe
be," said & man, and her only subscriber
stepped where she could see him. "1
found your name and address in your
little note book. I went and told liim
you'd be home to-morrow. You don't
remember me, Phoebe?"
Phoebe smoothed her dress and sat up
on the chintz couch and looked at the
speaker.
"You subscribed for my book," she
said.
"But before that," said the man. "Be
fore I had a beard and went away to sea
with no hopes of being captain. Don't
you know Billy Barton, Phoebe!"
"Oh!" cried Phoebe. "Is it you?"
"I thought 1 knew you," said Capt.
Barton. "I followed you, wondering if
I dared speak: and you looked so ill. So
I was there when you fainted."
He took her hand and held it and lifted
it to his lips before he put it down.
"The same sweet girl," he said, softly.
"Goodnight. Peggy will take good care
of you. Every one who falls sick at this
hotel knows Peggy."
By next morning Plvoebo was well
again, bnt Capt. Barton insisted on see
ing her home.
"What did pa say?" she asked. "Are
you sure he was not worried?'
"lie said," replied the captain, with a
smile, • 'that girls are never to be de
pended on. and that if he had had a son
ha never would have cut up such
pranks."
Phoebe felt the tears rise to her eyes.
"The old gentleman is very much
broken," said Capt. Barton. "Ho does
want a son as well as daughter; don't
you think so Phoebe?'
When he said that, lie looked like the
Billy Barton-of the long gone times.
A few months afterward he asked the
same question, adding;
"Won't I do?'
And so it came to pass that Phoebe, in
stead of ending her life as a solitary
spinster, married a man who loved her
truly. Tiie mortgage was paid off tiie
old place, and tiie farm was no longer
managed on shares. And the old gen
tlernon, what with freedom from care
and luxurious living, grew stronger and
brighter in every way; much fonder of
his daughter, too, as in the olden time.
So that one day when Phoebe Barton
came down to breakfast and sat wait
ing for those other two, and thinking
of tiie day with which this story bo
gins, sin- laughed softly to herself aud
declared:
"And I'm really the happiest woman
in the >orld today, I believe, lifter all."
—Mary Kyle Dallas in New York Led
ger.
MY OLD UMBRELLA.
OM fri.'inl. leglecteit there you stand
Behind my closet door.
You've really grown too shabby now
To carry any more.
Around your rusty frame the silk
In faded splendor clings.
While numerous little gentec! darns
To view tlse sunlight brings.
1 need the space you occupy
Within my small domain:
And yet to throw you out, I think.
Would give me mental pain.
Some sad and pleasant memories
Encircle your gaunt form.
Outside of times you've sheltered tne
From sun us well as storm.
Yes. many u tramp, old friend, we've had
In lain r.nu pleasant weather;
To weddings gay. and funerals sad i
We've often gone together.
And when with merry friends I've climbed
The mountains—you as prop
Helped mo to triumph o'er the rest
B,v gaining first the top.
When in a crowded car I've gone.
And could not get a seat,
'Twas your crook'd handle held the strap,
A nd kept tne on my feet.
But far above your usefulness.
One memory sweet 1 see, J
Tis this—'noath your protecting shade
My John proposed to tne.
—Elsie Hackling in Good Housekeeping. j
Pntti's High Notes.
A writer in The London World says of
Mine. Pntti's terms for singing in con
certs: "I have all my life had, a weak
ness for ladies, and ladies have always
had the weakness to know what is not
their business, so I am going to betray a
secret of the trade to the lady readers of
this paper in order to let them get an in
sight into affairs discussed by everybody,
although 'everybody' knows nothing
about what is really the matter. From
all sides I hear of the greedinessof Mate.
Patti, the exorbitant prices she asks, and
how she does not care whether the peo
ple in whose concerts she sings are ruined
so long as she. receives her money. The
fact i-3 this: Mine Patti receives for every
concert in the Albert hall £7O0 —an enor
mous amount, no doubt.
"Now let us see as to the ruin of the
pc iplo who engage her. Thu expenses
of the hall are about £IOO, other artists
£2OO, advertising, etc., say £150; the
whole-forms £1,150 ta £I,BOO costs. The
receipts of this first year's concert were
about £1,700, of the second over £I,BOO,
and the third will probably be still larger
—that is to say. £SOO, £OOO and £7OO
profit.* I know that once in a concert
in which she sang the expenses were a
little over £1,200 and tha receipts £2,143,
with £153 taken for programme books.
These are figures, not opinions. I have
Luowu what is perhaps still more aston
ishing. One evening the fog was so
thick that. I was reflecting whether I
should go to the hall, imagining that
Mme. Patti, whom I had to accompany,
would not go. I went* "however, after
all, by tin-. umlergTound railway, and
theri ceipis that evening left over £OOO
profit."
A JVitwTvrinp; I'risonrr.
" Perseverance will accomplish every
thing." 1 had these-words for a writing
lesson once and I -shall never forget
them. It ts a great# tiling to have per
severance. There was once a man who
•was shut up iu a dungeon with walls
20ft feet thick, made of the hardest kind
of 6toue. Ho had no tools except a pair
of scissors his brutlier had sent him in a
loaf of bread, hut'lk remembered that a
drop of water will wear away a stone if
it falls on 'the stone long enough, and
tliat a coral worm, which is so small
that y -u can hardly see it, will eat lip
and destroy a coral reef if you will only
give it time enough. So he said that he
would persevere and dig a hole through
the wall of the dungeon with the scissors
and lescapo if it took him a hundred
years.
He had been Jigging about a year
who® the gnvovnor pardoned him and
the .jailer'brought him the joyful news.
,■ Butlhey.p.onldnh get him to leave the
dungeon, lie tokl the jailer that he bad
undertaken to dig his way through the
J wall and cseapedn that way, and that he
was going to stick to it, no matter how
: long it might take. The jailer urged
■ him to give it >.np and walk out of the
i door., and even offered him $lO to give
, up this dungeon to a new lodger, but
i nothing'oould induce him to change his
; mind. Bo he staid in the dungeon and
; dug away at the wall for forty-seven
yeans, anil every fix months he had to
i pay .a big hill .for damages to the jail,
wnd he 'finally died when he was half
through ilhe walL This shows what a
splendid ihing ; perseverance is, and that
we :fiil ougnt to persevere.—W. L. Alden.
Tupper"* Egotism.
Siir<3 D , a personage not un
known to fame, -once encountered the
late Martin Farqukar Tupper on a Clyde
steamer, and was accosted by him in
these terms: "I perceive that I am not
the only distinguished man on board."
Mr. Tupper smiled not as lie spoke,
being quite in earnest and, indeed, wish
ing to pay Sir C what he conceived
to be a high compliment. This little in
cident occurred on deck. Presently Mr.
Tupper went down into the cabin, but
■ before doing so handed his umbrella to
a young lady, a perfect stranger, to take
care of it for him. " Young lady," he
observed to the astonished recipient of
the umbrella, "you will now bo able to
say in after life that you once held the
umbrella of Martin Tupper." Same
smileless expression as before. The
story is told of Tupper that ono evening
be attended a dinner party after having |
lost bis portmanteau in the afternoon, |
and at the table, when he bad talked a
great deal about bis loss, a wit who was
present interrupted him by saying: "If
1 had lost my .portmanteau, Mr. Tupper,
I, being an ordinary man, should have
been justified in boring a dinner table
with my grief. But you, Mr. Tupper—
your philosophy is proverbial."—San
Francisco Argonaut.
The Usual Result.
Mrs. William Snyder, a Des Moines
woman, got the hammer to drive a nail i
into the kitchen wall the other day, and
after three minutes' work she fractured
the baby's skull, broke the hired girl's
nose and nearly put out one of her own
eves. A inan might as well try to turn
the heel of a sock.—Detroit Free Press, I
The Oitl Doctors
I'ri'W W 1 'l, Hid h-rn doctors cleanse i r ,
lioiiri; tl • nrreused demand for Altei'.i
tiu-.s. I iimv well known tloit most
diseases ir due, mil to o\ ir-al>iltidiUlee,
I'tit to i,<■ piti i:y. of tlio Blood ; uml it,
is i":milly well attested that no blood
in, i;ui is so ullleuiioiis as Acer's
.Sin s.i|imiliit.
■• of my i Mili'i'ii had a largo sore
■" on • I■: Wo applied
ai ■ ■ ■ '• do. thinking
i , i i • i Urn. it grew
•a' - iii'• lee. and
Wei • tot,l ' i hi. , ■ • in. die no
nn- licif ... . .s.i aparilla
In '1 o
i. i 3o J . - .. L< '.
sieve nil oi 1 - •. . >• mnr
• In ! and
I ' • ■ I'.. ted."
- J. J. .: . i
" I Ibi I ' .ii '•(• an
rolir . . ' ' i I
| . I:-I . ' - tllO
wart-evurv i, M. L).,
Manhattan.
"We h" o ' f-'a apurilla
her" for .i■ • > . mi l ilwa.vs
rettouum-n I i . • I ><> iniiue tlio
best liioo.'-n . T. McLean,
Drugglsti, A O'. o.
" Ayer's me -s . "iiHtiue to be tlio
•'amlard re. 1 i.i - in spite of all coin
ion."— X. NY. liiulmiond, Bear
f.a1.0, Mich. •
Ayer's Sarsaparilla,
•• "I'AItED BY
Dr. J. C. A- at & Co, Lowell, Mass.
Price $1; oottles, |o Woith $5 * bottle.
HOW IT WORKED.
Good morning Jack ! why I haven't
seen you for a month past. What in the
world is the matter with you ? You seem
to have renewed your youth."
" Well Phil, I have. Don't you remem
ber the last time 1 saw you, how misera
ble I was ? Sick and blue, and in that
-sort of mootl a nuin gets sometimes when
he feels the most noble tiling in life is to
go straight to the devil."
" Not so bad its that, I hope ; at alt
events you didn't go that way you arc
looking far too happy and hearty."'
'• Tbankgoodncss.no ! or rather, thank
Vinegar Bitters. Do you remember that
day 1 saw you last, when you recommend
ed that remedy to me so persistently, and
1 wus first vexed and then half convinced."
I remember it perfectly, and yon
needn't say another word upon the sub
ject : your looks tell me that you took the
medicine."
'• No doubt of it: everybody remarks
upon my improved looks and temper : but
L must really tell you all about it. 1 got
the old style., as you recommended, and
didn't mind the bitter taste at all. I fin.
ished the bottle In about two weeks, and
was greatly improved, so much so that
I determined to change oil' and try the
new style.
" Well, how did you like it?"
" Yon told me your wife preferred til
new style, 1 iselievc; well, 1 must say 1 agre
with her. 1 like the old style very much
but the new is a finer, smoother, more ex
pensive preparation."
4 * I believe it is; in fact, I have hoatd
so, and 1 wonder the McDonald Drug
Company sell it for the same price they
do the old style, because it is really a very
unsstly preparation."
" Well, that dosu't concern ns Who
was it said that people fancied themselves
pious sometimes when they were only
bilious ? No matter! I was only going to
say that I believe people oflen seem wicked
when it is only their liver, or their stom
ach, or some other cantankerous organ of
the body so out of older I bey couldn't be
good if they tried."
i " And if all the miserable dyspepsia,
and victims of biliousness, headache and
the thousand am! one ills that ilesh is heir
to would only take Vinegar liiitcrs, what
a happy world this would be ! "
" 1 should recommend the new style."
*' I never go back on (lie old style."
" Well, they can pay their money and
take their choice, for both kinds work ad
mirably."
Only feitipi :/i[, Ki-atr-!. '
Ifu r.fjps 3 ft
The Great Blood Purifier
and Healtli Restorer. Cures all
kinds of Headache within thirty
minutes—Try it.
The only Temperance Bitters
known. It stimulates the Brain
and quiets the Nerves, regulates the
Bowels and renders a perfect blood
circulation through the human veins,
which is sure to restore perfect
health. fr.T'A beautiful book free.
Address, It. 11. McDONALD DRUG
CO., 532 Washington street, New
York.
jams
"""""AL |, Onrof.hr Pnrr
a&°fPF - FREE
I .lie world. our fieTllX,™
i
Al Vf kl Ml fc JL .. I •ujwnor goods we will len.lritFk
* / EttlllMLll tooNB i-ERsox In each locality.
705., EM lllfll6l& above. Only those Who Writ-
V the rhnnrc All you have to do in
avc 11 Ail ®ntl those around you The he.
MU ILV^of this advertisement
", , r thows the small end of the tel. -
scope. The following cut give# the appearance of It reduced t
about the fiftieth part of its bulk. It in a grand, double sixe tele
scope, a* largo n* is easy to carry. We will also show you how you
can make from !s.'* to J# tOn .lay at least, from the start,with
out experience Better write at once We pay all express charges.
Address, 11. iiALLETT & CO,, Box W0, l'uttrLAND, MAIXK.
ADMINISTRATOR'S NOTICE.
-Estate or conmd linker, dereasod.-l,et
ters of Administration in the estate ot conrart
Bai-er, late of Johnstown borough, county ot
Cambria and state of Pennsylvania, deceased,
having been granted lolhe undersigned, notice
is hereby given to all those knowing themselves
Indebted to said estate to make Immediate pay
ment, and those having claims against said es
tate to present them duly authenticated for set •
tlemenl to CATHARINE BAKER,
Horner street, city. Admlustratrlx.