’ - i EE ET a Cae MOTIVE. Bat a youth with sullen visage by the throng'd approach of Fame, Baffled in his first endeavor, careless of his honored name, Him a sage accosted, smiling: ‘“Where- fore, brother, do you wait, While the multitudes sweep by You, and there's clamor at the gate Where the old and timid pass not, but the youthful and elate?” “Of these aimless feuds I weary. Is it noble thus to strive, ‘When the mighty and successful on the weak and failing thrive?’ “What voice is it bids you onward? What voice was it bade you rest? *Twas the whisper of a faint heart, not the wail of the opprest. Rise! A noble man is never but in up- ward toiling blest.” “Upward toiling! . Where to, father? Do we lose or do we gain? 7 Is there more in all our triumphs than a softer couch for pain?” Said the sage, but slowly, thoughtful: “Yes, far more, for even woe Brings a sweetness to the spirit. And the way the nations go Sweeps up, like a heav'n , bound river, broad’ ning in its skyward flow. “What! No gain? No kindlier spirit ? Ah, a larger love is here. Even in our fiercest striv ings; and the frailest life is dear. High the privilege of struggle to true men in days like these. When the great world shrinks together, and men speak across the seas, And Renown swings wide her doors to gentle Mercy’s golden keys! Then the youth’s deep eyes enkindled, and he stood up in his fight. Saying, ‘Then for all I struggle, for the weak 1 join the fight.” And he press 'd the upward highway,. singing as he sped along— World- wide love and selffess service was the burden of his song— ~ Till his voice.and form, were sw vallowed in the.clamor and the throng. . Leander Turney, in Boston Watchman. The book slipped to the floor and Honoria Keller sat back in her chair | with a gentle yawn. “That woman was a hero,” she said aloud. “The kind I'd like to be. I never wanted to be anything quite as much as to be a hero. Dear, dear, | that’s what I used to lie under the trees and dream about. while other girls dreamed about lovers. To do something splendid and brave—think of that! Heigho!” She crossed the room and surveyed her small, trim figure in the mirror, with a queer defiance in her face. “Qh, it’s you again, is it? she cried. “It’s always you, always! Never somebody tall and fine and hero-ish. You'd make a pretty hero, wwaldn't you? Did vou think heroes were cut out five feet tall in their shoes? And had round baby faces and dimples? Dimples!” She turned away and paced restless- ly up and the bright little room. The gentle purring of the sleeping children stole out to her faintly through the half-open door. Once, when she failed to hear it, she stopped in her walk to listen anxiously. Heavy feet tramped by, now and then, in the corridors, but the step she was waiting for did not come. “He's late again,” she said aloud, in the fashion of lonely women. “He was late yesterday and day before, and day before that—world without end.” A sudden bitterness: distorted her her sweet face. Home! What kind of a parody on the word was this pair of little rooms in a great nois ‘Was there the slightest res to a home about them? They were | bright with gaslight tonight, and pretty with the bits of womanly touches her wistful fingers had given them against heavy cdds. And how the children had helped! Jed’s horse, over there in the corner, Nell's sorry doll on the couch, the Tiny One’s rubber dogs and cats everywhere,—bless them, how they helped! Honoria Keller had been married eight years and she had never had a home. From one hotel or boarding house to another they had drifted rest- lessly. The children had been born in hotels—that was Honoria’s greatest grief. It seemed like doing the chil- dren a great wrong. When Harry laughed at her the hurt deepened and widened. It was all Harry's doings, anyway. When they had money enough, he said, in his easy way, they would have a home. Time encugh. Suddenly,the woman pacing the bright little room uttered a sharp sound of pain. The old wound would not bear opening. She hurried to ‘her usual refuge, the children in their beds. Their little flushed, peaceful faces always calmed her. “You don’t Jay it up, do you?’ the mother sobbed softly. “You know mother wanted to give vou a home to be born in,—Jed, Nell, Tiny One! You don’t lay it up?” For a little while she sat. beside them, in the darkened room. touching their little cheeks in turn, with the soft mother kisses that never waken. Then, comforted, she went back again to the light. But the evening wore on, dragged on, without the sound of familiar steps outside the door. Some- where a clock chimed 10, then 11, then 12. “It was 12 last night,” she said, and waited. Then 1 c¢’clock rang out in one clear note. “It was 1 the day before yesterday,” Honoria said. They had parted in bitter anger in the morning, but that was too familiar a thing to count. Lately the partings had all been angry or cooly indifferent. When had they kissed each other goodby in the morning? Honoria caught her breath in sharp distress. “At home we would—it would be dif- ferent if we had a home!” she cried out a little wildly, “How can we love each other in this way, without a home?” The great house settled into quiet. Somewhere a great way off, doors shut with a final clang, and loud keys creaked in their locks. “He will not come tonight,” Honoria said. But she waited until morning.” She had waited that way before, and in the morning Harry had come. This time it was different. In the morning a messen- ger boy brought her a note from him. “Have gone away. SOrTY. time. I should liked to have kissed the children goodby. Harry.” How long it was she sat there with the brief little note in her hands, be- fore frightened imperative little fin- gers tugged and pulled her back to | Keller | semi-conscicusness, Honoria never knew. The weight on her heart did not lift or ease. It seemed to crush and choke her. The queer, metallic voice that answered the chil- By Annie Hamilton Donnell. You will not be | it has been in the wind some | Ey | dren’s wondering questions was not her voice. She did not wonder it terri- | fied the Tiny One. “You isn’t like | mamma—TI ‘wants papa!” he wailed. “He has gone away—you will not be sorry,” repeated Honoria stiltedly. “It has been in the wind some time. He was sorry not to kiss the chil—" She caught her breath as the row of scared little faces imprinted itself on her staring retinas. A sudden wave of keen, pitiless consciousness swept over her like a flood. It was all so plain now! The kindly mist had lifted from. her mind. That day somehow lived itself out, and ther the next. Somehow, for the children, Honoria lived. The throb and smart of her hurt were all she realized at first. Small things made no impression on her mind. Years afterward she wondered whether on those first days the sun had shone, or it had rained. It: was a chance re- mark she overheard that aroused her from her lethargy. Some one outside in the corridor made the remark to some on eles. “The woman in that room there—No. 21—’s been de- serted,” the strange voice said in what was meant for an under- tone. “Yes, sir, deserted! Sounds like a novel. den’t it? An’ the chil- dren's ; there too, all right. Just lit out ’ left em. as I'm a sinner.” Ar he’s a sinner!” growled the other voice indignantly. “It's brutes do thingg like that. They ain't men.” There was sympathy in both rough 5, but Honoria did not heed. The not the tones. burnt into her brain. Was that it? Was Harry a brute? Dear Lord in Heaven, was she deserted? “No! Harry would not do that!” she cried in anguish. “He went away —we were angry with each other. He thot t I wonld not be sorry. Not sorry!” She sprang to the floor and paced to ard fro, till the frightened children crept away by themselves. But the days that went by grew into weeks, and he did not come. AnH at last the kind-hearted hotel proprietor was driven to take the sten he had been dreading. He went up to Num- ber 21 one evening and knocked gently. “Come in,” a weary voice said. “Ah—good evening, Mrs. Keller, good evening,” he said nervously. “I —that is, P've—er—called on a terribly embarrassing errand. I've put it off and put it off, honing he—that is, Mr. Keller—would show up again. I want vou to believe it was an awful joit for me to come un here tonight and y it. but. Mrs. Keller—that is—" He caught out his handkerchief and mopped his face “There’s a bill against your husband for three months’ board,” he blurted out des- perately. Honoria sat looking at him steadily, letting this new disgrace filter into her brain. She did not flinch before it. 1a TAS, “You mean.” she said quietly, after a minute or two, “that Har—that my husband owes you a good deal of money for our board, his and mine and the children?” “Yes, that is—er—a modicum, a modicum.” * “And that we must go away at once? Of course I see that. But— but—" for the first {ime her sweet voice broke, “but I.have no money to pay the bill. Wait! please don’t say a word. Please go away and let me think. I must think. You will give me time to think?” But how to think? Honoria wrestled all night with her problem. One thing was definitely clear. She must pay the bill before she went away. A way, —a—way,—oh, to find a way! What was to come afterward did not matter vet. This mountain must be climbed first. The next morning she noticed a signed posted below. over the laun- dry windows. “Wanted: a first-class woman to do fine ironing. Fancy pay for fancy work. Apply within.” “Grandmother used to tell me 1 ironed her caps beautifully,” Honoria said, a sudden resolve in her mind. “But perhar class woman,” she added with a pitiful little smile. But she applied for the work and got it. She and the children took a cheaper room in one of the at- | tics and she went resolutely to work | to earn the money to pay the bill. That | the work was terribly taxing to her slender strength did rot deter her. Her courage supplemented her strength. And little by little she saved the money. Afterward she wondered; now, she only worked. The night the sum she was saving had grown to the needful dimensions, her poor sore | heart Dhecdeeferfoofedacerted ¥ was almost lightt On the way up to her attic she overheard some- one calling her a hero. It sent her straight to her blurry little mirror. “You don’t look it!” she said to the worn, shabby little figure before her, but she smiled a little and nodded to it, friendly-wise. “You were always wanting to be one, and I suppose this was the best you could do.” That was the night Harry came back. He was terribly thin and wan. “Dear,” he said, after the long ex- planation was over, how could you think I would desert you like that?” “I didn’t,” she answered simply. “And I didn’t!” he said, as if he had not said it already a dozen times. “There was no time to write a longer note that night, when the Head made up his mind- at last to send me about” his business ‘in such, a. hurry. And then,”—he shuddered—then the smash on the train ahd the nothing- ness—nothingness—nothingness.” “Oh, ‘hush.!” she shuddered. “And when.l came out of it,” he persisted: “I couldn't remember. I anly remembered today Honoria.” “Only today, dear.” she cried joy- fully. “But Harry, today is now! And tomorrow—do you know what we are going to do tomorrow?” . “Yes,—wait, let me say it! Tomor- row we're going somewhere—home, Honoria.”—American Agriculturist. QUAINT AND CURIOUS. There are 23 football teams in the Syrian Protestant college at Beirut. Neither frogs nor snakes live in Alaska but toads are frequently met with. Seven hundred and seventy-nine parts in every 1000 of human blood are water. Rain has never been known to fall in Iquiqui, Peru. The place contains 14,000 inhabitants. ‘Water and a handful of dates or flour suffice the Nigerian native for his one daily meal. All mills in Japan run day and night, the change of hands being made at noon and midnight. In the province of Samara, Russia, 405,000 persons get their subsistence from less than three acres of land per capita. The only two great European capi- tals that never have been occupied by a foreign foe are london and St. Pe- tershurg. There is a- point near the famous Stony Cave, in the Catskill mountains, where ice may be found on any day of the year. A drinking cup pronounced by the British Museum to be 3000 years old, has been found in the field at Stoning- field, Essex. It is now in the Chelms- ford Museum. When the white man first reached the city of Mexico it had 300,000 in- habitants, probably more than the en- tire population of the North Ameri- can continent. A quart pf oysters contains about the same amount of nutrition as a quart of milk, three-quarters of a pound of lean beef, two pounds ‘of fresh cod or a pound of bread. There is a wild flower in Turkey which is the exact floral image of a hummingbird. The breast is green, the wings are a deep rose color, the throat yellow, the head and beak al- most black. With a population of about two mil- lion five hundred thousand Paris has fewer than one hundred negroes with- in its limits. It is claimed that the colored population of all France is less than 550. Wiaat is said to be the largest log ever floated in Puget sound has been towed into the Capital box factory pond. It is a 40-foot spruce log, nine feet through at the small end and 14 feets through at the large end. It was cut on the Skagit river banks. Mustaches and Crimes. Frank Richardson, writing in the Cornhill Magazine, insists on the dis- honesty of hiding the telltale upper lip. “Of all the great criminals of our day,” he says, “I can recall none who dared to practise with a naked face. Drs. Lamson and Neill Cream judiciously concealed as much of their physiogonomy as might be. Fowler, who murdered by night at Muswell Hill, and Jabez Balfour were bearded men. Wainright wore the ‘mustachios’ of his period. James Canham Read and Deeming, and Bennett of the ‘bootlace murder’ were possessed of mouths that prudence compelled them to conceal. “The blue burglarious jowl is a fahtasy of the novelist. No burglar goes about with a face that in itself amounts to a previous conviction. When he is in jail matters are dif ferent, for our prison authorities wisely decree that the convict's face shall be shaven and his head be shorn. They at least insist on seeing the man as he is.” How He Heard. One day while the master was in. structing a class in the rule of three, he noticed that one of his pupils was paying more attention to a small tart than to his lesson. “Tom Bain,” said the master, “lis. ten to the lesson, will ye?” “I’m listening, sir,” said the boy. “Listening, are ye?” exclaimed the master. “Then ye’re listenin wie one ear an’ eatin’ pie wi’ the other.” ® "gold reserve of $650, 000,000, UNCLE SAM'S GOLD FUND ENOUGH OF THE METAL TO GIVE EVERY AMERICAN TWELVE DOLLARS. Treasury Reserve $650,600,000—What One Man Could Do if He Possessed the Entire Accumulation—The Gi- gantic Dimensions of its Bulk. At present the United States has more gold than any other country in the world. In the treasury there is a to say nothing of $322,000,000 more in the national banks, says ihe Salt Lake Herald. . -And to swell the total we are, not- withstanding the vast store of gold in this country, beginning anew the im- portation of the precious metal from Europe, $2,000,000 having recently been contracted for. Uncle Sam’s children have over $12. in gold apiece, which, however, is less than the citizens of the French repub- lic POSSESS. For each one of them there is a little .more than $21 of gold coin. Germany comes third in the per capita computation, the figures being $12.81. Great Britain has $12.34 of gold per capita, and Russia, with her enormous poulaton of 128,000,000, only $5.64. The per capita figure for the entire British empire is a shade under $3.20, that of India’s enormous horde of 297,000,000 souls being only 15 cents. Here, as in other things, the British empire exhibits the most astonishing extremes, for there are parts thereof . where the per capita of coined gold is in great excess; in Australia, for in- stance, there is $24.26 in ccin as mon- ey for every man, woman and child. At one ime the South African Repub- lic led this, with per capita figures of $26.34, but now Australia is the high- est. ‘Canada’s per capita is a few cents in excess of $3. If one man should own the enor- mous hoard of gold in Uncle Sam’s treasury wbat a lot of gocd he could do! He could pay up the debt of the Ar- gentine Republic, and European bond- holders would put up a monument to him. It would be rather a costly monument, because it would take all his gold to win it. He could take the burden of debt off the shoulders of Canada. That would make him a promoter, for then he might be willing that she should get under the wings of the screaming eagle. This newly rich man might not think of any of these things at all Here are a few more suggestions made in an entirely friendly spirit. If he couldn't pay Uncle Sam’s debt it would naturally be supposed that he could help his uncle out in the matter of pensions. But, bless is soul, he couldn’t do much in that ‘line. He would be unable to touch the bill at all, and could only pay the pensions for a couple of years, while his uncle was getting his breath and preparing to start in on those of the Spanish war. If he really wanted to help his uncle, he could run.the post office de- partment for two or three years, pay- ing all the bills, and then he’d have either to start out and gather in a new fortune or go to the Home for Indigent Millionaires. If his brain boiled for bigger plans he could keep up the armies of the czar and William the kaiser for a year, and allow these two fighters to promote their schemes for universal peace. If his travels in collecting gold gave him the collecting mania, he could make a string of skyscrapers here in New York, buying up every building more than ten stories high and the land on which it stands. There are limitations even to the millionaire, but this: he could do. And, if he didn’t like their style, he could wipe them all out and and build twice as many more somewhere else on the island and in some other way. The American nation has money to burn. The trouble would be to find a place to purn it. If you were to take this enormous sum of money in one- dollar bills and fasten Yen end to end they would make a string 81,200 miles long, which you coul a easily wind around the equator three times, and even leave 10,000 miles or so hanging out in airy space. To make a bon- fire of these bills would probably re- quire one of our biggest parks. The immensity of this sum, the gi- gantic dimensions of its bulk in gold, or, what is more startling, in silver, and its vale and purchasing power in this world, are bewildering to con- template. Distributed among the pop- ulation cf the land it would give every man, weman and child $12. Distrib- uted among the population of this city each man, woman and child would re- ceive $350. If you will consult your almanac you will find that there are in this country over 70,000 paupers. If this gold were divided among them each would receive over $13,000—a small fcrtune. This amount of money wculd buy the whole British navy, if that navy were for sale, and leave enough sur- plus to carry on a pretty lively war. Or if you did not care to invest the whole sum in one enterprise, you might for less than half of it, or $325,- 000,000, buy or duplicate all of the fol- lowing interesting things: A fleet of 65 first-class battleships. The St. Louis World’s fair. The Brooklyn bridge. Half a dozen buildings likeethe cap- itol at Washington, the House of Par- liament, Westminster Abbey, Notre Dame cathedral in Paris, and a hand- ful of castles on the Rhine. If all this gold were rolled into one ball it would make a sphere which would weigh in the neighborhood of 2,400,000 pounds. If you were to di- vide it into six balls of $100,000,000 each and place them upon heavy wag- ons, it would require a long train of elephants to drag them. Really, this is a marvellous sum of money when you come to measure it. If it were given to you in $5 gold pieces, and you were able to stack them one upon the other as a gambler piles his chips, you would have a golden rod 460,000 feet high—more than eighty-six miles, or fifteen times as high as Mount Everest, Asia’s loft- iest peak. If you ‘would rather have the pile thicker you might take the gold in cubic blocks one foot in thickness, each one of which would be worth $400,000. If you were-to pile these blocks one upon another your $600, 000,000 would make a column 1500 feet high. A cubic ‘foot of silver is worth $12,000 in these days. A moment's figuring will show you how high your column would be if you could ex- change all this geld for silver. If all the gold in the world were to be rolled into one sphere it would make a globe 25.3 feet in diameter. Our $600,000,000 would be cne-seventh of this quantity. GLOVES FROM RAT SKINS. Only One Pair Made and It Was Very Small. A report comes from Copenhagen that a great rat hunt has been or- ganized there, and that the skins ot many thousands of the vietims are to be used in making gloves. if the rat hunters in the Danish capital cherish any such hopes they are docmed to disappointment. Rat skins cannot be gloves fit for commerce. that a valuable raw material is being neglected here survives only in the minds of the inexpert. The glove mak- er knows much better. A Norwegian merchant once came to England and informed a well known glove maker that he had collected cver 100,000 rat skins and was prepjared to receive offers for them. He was fully convine- ed that the skins were suitable for glove making. But the manufacturer found that the largest skin was only some six inches long, and he held up a kid skin for the smallest size of glove, a child’s, which was eight inch- es long, and asked how he was to cut such a glove out of a rat skin. Then he took up the smallest skin for a lady’s glove, eleven inches long, and when he asked how that was to be cut out of a rat skin the Norwegian merchant laughed at the idea and went away disappointed. The best of- fer he gct for those skins, which he had collected with so much care, was five shillings a hundred weight from a man who was willing to boil them down for glue. A famous glove making firm has a collection of curiosities relating to the trade, and one of them is the largest pair of gloves ever made out of a rat skin. The belief that such skins could be made into gloves was laid before the managers so confident ly that they resolved to put it to the trial and they ordered a number of the skins of the largest rats which could be found in Grimsby. But the rat is a fighting animal and bears the marks of many battles on his body, and it was found that the skins were so scarred and torn that it was with the utmost difficulty that perfect pieces large enough for the purpose could be obtained. In the end, after ten skins had been used, a pair of gloves was cut and made, and they are retained in the collection to this day. But they are so small that they would only fit the smallest of small boys. Thus it was show that, hcw- ever cheaply rat skins might be ob- tained, they would oifer no advantage to the glovemaker. The rabbit skin is equally useless for this purpose, and humane people also may dismiss from their minds the fear that the skins of pet dogs are made into gloves. Tue dogskin glove of which we used to near is made of nothing else but the skin of the Cape gzoat.— Pall Mall Gazette. made into Pay cf Women. “Why gre women paid less than men?” This question was asked of John J. Johnson, for many. years a buyer for Marshall Field, the great Chicago mil- lionaire retail merchant. Mr. John- son is at the Willard hotel, “That is easy to answer. They are paid less because their work is in- ferior to men’s. Women as a class are not competent workers even in owe things in which they have al- ways Been © occupied such as cooking Ed sewing. “But the clamor of women advo- cates is always for equal wages be- tween the sexes: This is a cry which is not based on reason. Men can do more and better work than women. That is the reason they are paid more. “When I was associated with Mar- shall Field I alwavs gmploved men when it was possible.”—Louisville Herald. Japanese Proverbs. The error of a minute, a lifetime. After having tasted becomes a man. It is more difficult to keep a for- tune than to make~cue. The life of an cld man is like a lighted car in a draft. sier to find a thousand re- one general. ital and the fireside have each their own attractions. Before we can sympathise with oth- ers we must have ffered ourselves. Do not be slave to your children. They will have their happiness later. Tne wise man shapes himseif ac- cording to circumstances, as water takes the shape of the vessel into which it is poured.—Progress the sorrow of bitterness one The belief ler, of Cleveland, O., KEYSTONE STATE GULLINGS JEWELRY STORE ROBBED. Eurglars Take Nearly $1,000 Worth of Valuables and Money and Make | Their Escape. A suit in assumpsit for $20,300 was entered against Clinton D. Greenlee, a well-known oil operator and presi- dent of the Standard Trust Company of Butler, which closed it§ doors last March, by Harry A. Stauffer, receiver of the concern. The amount is claimed: to be due as principal and ‘interest on three notes given by Mr. Greenlee to the trust company. Mr. Greenlee, it is understood, claims he does-not owe the money for the notes as they were given shortly before the trust com- pany failed, to tide over the difficulties at that time. He says Mr. Wylie, an- other stockholder, was to sign notes for $10,000 for the same purpose. The notes were to lie in the vault as as- sets, he says, and be returned when the financial troubles were past. Two professional burglars entered J. E. Miller's jewelry store at Glen Campbell at night and secured $700 worth of jewelry and about $250 in money and escaped to Punxsutawney with a horse and buggy, which they took from G. M. Glasgow’s stable at Glen Campbell. The horse having become tired they went to the home of Walter F. Armas, Mrs. Armas, who was alone, heard a noise at the barn, and, seeing some men trying to break into the stable, fired at them four times, driving the burglars away. The robbers were pursued toward Rey- noldsville by a posse from Glen Camp- bell. Judge Frank J. Thomas of the Craw- ford county courts handed down a decision, declaring unconstitutional the act of Assembly under which liquor deale:s have been found guilty of violating the pure food laws. The case was that of the pure food depart- ment against liquor dealers of Mead- ville, found guilty of selling black- berry wine adulterated with salicylic acid and colored with analinedyes. The title of the act contains no reference to alcoholic liquors. Judge Thomas further declared that liquors are Sou foods. A man who registered as J. M. Mil- was found dead in his room ‘in the Seventh Avenue Hotel, Pittsburg. A bullet hole in his right temple and a 38-caliber revolver gripped tightly in his hand told how he had died. He was found sitting in a chair directly facing a mirror, be- fore which he had evidently ‘sat and located his aim. While driving over the Alleghanics with a large sum of money, Charles Walters, of Altoona, was held up by a highwayman. Seizing the horse the robber fired at Walters. The animal reared and struck the robber down, then ran off down the mountains. Wal- ters escaped injury. Charles Jeffries, a baseball player, was killed and two others slightly shocked during the practice before a ball game at Steel Works Park, be- tween McKeesport and Riverton, by a bolt of lightning which came out of an apparently clear sky. Hush Feinsod, a brother-in-law of M. Silverblatt of Kittanning, was one of the victims of the Norge disaster. He had left his home in Russia to come to this country to seek his for- tune. He was married and had three children. Cash Furman of Strattonville, Clari- on county, has surrendered himself to the sheriff of that county as the result of the death of Ora Sampson of the same place, with whom he had engaged in a fist fight. Joseph Mahoney, 46 years old, an employee of the tin mills of New Castle, was found dead in his shanty by boys who happened to pass the place. Mahoney lived alone and died from natural causes. William Neil, charged with robbing Western Pennsylvania railroad cars, was arrested near Kittanning, after a chase in which a number of shots were exchanged. Five companions of Neil escaped. Ira, a son of George Kaufman, a farmer, of Callery, was killed by being jarred from the rear platform of ‘a shifting engine, while at work on the Baltimore & Ohio railroad. A special election will be held on August 19 at Donora, to decide a pro- posed issue of $80,000 in bonds for the pu:pose of acquiring the Casner pub- lic school building. The ninth annual reunion of the Lutherans of Western Pennsylvania will be held on July 28 at Park, Butler. Several thousand visit- ors are expected. James Starr, of Butler, manager of the National Supply company’s store, was severely injured in an accident caused by a heavy piece of oil ma- chinery falling. The body of an unknown man, sup- posed to be a Pittsburger, was found along the Pennsylvania railroad track near Lockport. * The installation of Rev. L. K. Pea- cock, the new pastor of the United Presbyterian Church at Leechburg, will take place July 19. The mayor of Altoona signed the or- dinance raising his salary from $1,200 to $1,800 a year. The ordinance is now a law. William Steiner was arrested at Greensburg, charged with attempting to kill his wife with a razor. The woman was badly hurt. Frank Negley was shot and prob- ably fatally hurt in a fight at Gates, near Uniontown. John Valob, his al- leged assailant, was arrested. Morgan M. Knox, about 45 years old, committed suicide by hanging him- self at his home, near Harveys, Greene county. Governor Pennypacker idssued 2 death warrant for the execution of Milovar Kovovick at Washington, Pa., September 8. Almeda Christ’ meanin was to carnate represe feeling mankin very c tian re messag Christ God’s | teachi dersto dersto natura no eff Iw §t wou we be namel black Jew o oT POC his he is no 1 you tl tain 1 gent I cause men’s compr reasor days. 3 Ath necess the cc
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers