THE ANSWER. Tell me no more that well, For love is still immortal, and its day Pies not in night, but at the evening bell It flames anew, and drives the dusk away. once you Nor tell me that vou love me still despite Some passing tribute to another heart. For love demands the rapture to requite, And asking all, disdains the lesser part. Ab. speak no more of love not in your ken. Love is a joy that first to lovers seems Too subtle for reality, and then Too real, too potent, too divine dreams. —Louisc Morgan Sill, in Harper's Weekly. for— ; ) / : ! oO : { THE SIXTH SHOT. ta aaadDovDanad Sls cadre “No,” said the Major, “I don’t shoot— | that is, in the se ploy the word in E been able to 1 grouse, pheasants sort as a ercise of skill is must have danger. In the that, I fail to see anythi: in any of the Dange pursued t “To be in one’s life! Ah! that is only genuine happiness. “The pursuit of danger of all kinds has been a passion with me. Call it a weakness if you will—I admit that on | occasion it has led to awkward situa- | 1se in which you em- game of that The mere 10t encugh for me. I abscence of interesting so-catled ld sports. he Major with imminent the tr and sport at ail. A ve en- tions; on active service, for instance, when I have been entrusted with the | carrying out of plans which were | based on a presumption of normal cau- | tion in the officer chiefly responsible. It was this that led to my Petirement; for I concluded at last that chessboard war was not the business for me.” | “What was the narrowest shave you ever had, Major?” inquired somebody. | “It is hard,” replied the Major, with an air of considering the question care- | fully, “to say. But,” he added after a | slight pause. “I can easily name the oc- | casion on which I remained in a po- | sition of extreme peril for the longest | time. If you like I will tell you about it” There were murmurs of appreciation, and Mr. Hawkins cordially urged the Major to whirl in and toot his horn. | “It was,” said the old gentleman, af- | ter a preparatory clearing of his throat i “during what I may call a semi-official tour of the Malay states that I took | about fourteen years ago. In the in- | tervals of my business at the various courts I had.a good deal of shooting of the kind that I consider worth while; for several times I stayed in towns where it was quite a commen thing for tigers to break into the ' houses at night, and I remember once, at Johore, waking up to find a black panther licking away at my shaving | cream on the dressing table. I killed | him with my revolver without getting out of bed, but it was a good quarter of an hour before I could get to sleep again. These things upset one. “But I was going to tell you—the ad- venture 1 speak of occurred in a part of the country about four days’ ride inland from Malacca. I have seen a 2ood deal of jungle, and a good many hunting grounds; but I never met with | any forest growth so dense and im- penetrable as that was, ner fecund any place stocked with such an extraordin- Ary profusion of game, big and little. “What I was going to tell you hap- pened one evening when I had—most foolishly—strayed off alone from my camp along the side of the stream on the banks of which it was pitched. The only weapon I had was the re- volver in my belt. I went a consider- i able distance, and in about half an | hour I came to a spot where the jungle ran down to within fifty yards of the water. It was while my back was turned to the dense mass of trees and vegetation that stretched interminably away eastward that I heard the muf- fled. grunt sound in the jungle. As I turned round there was a crash of trampled vegetation, and in the moon- light I saw the head cf the most mon- | strous elephant I ever met with peer- ing out with wicked eyes from a thick- | <t of canes. i “lI am obliged to admit that I gave | a start. The beast looked dangerous. | It was regarding me fixedly and fiercc- ly, and snorting in a subdued, but de- cidedly unpleasant, way. 1 started, I | say; but I assure you I leaped backward when with a sudden | durch, the elephant stepped out of the covert and advanced toward me, trumpeting with fury. “Why did I jump back? I will tell ou. The elephant had two heads.” “What!” exclaimed several voices. “Two heads,” said the Major, slowly and emphatically. “Two pairs of shoul- ders and two sets of forefeet. Just be- hind the shoulders the body became normal and the hindquarters were sim- ply those of a huge elephant some fii teen feet high. You hear of such things every day among smaller animals, and even in our own species it occurs from | time to time. But I've never known | another case of this freak of nature | being accompanied by complete, and | absolutely | the composite animal. “However, I hadn't (ime to think of that even. Lifting its trunks with two deafening bellows, thes awful creature charged me. I had scarcely time to draw my revelver before it was upon me. I fired rather wildly, I'm afraid, and evidently did no damage. The | next instant I was seized by one of the | trunks and whirled high in the air. “l expected to be dashed in pieces that instant. But no; I had not allow- ed for the development of self-restraint | and curiosity in two brains, both nat- urally of the first order cf animal in- of } i loved me | zland. I have fever | shooting of | CX 4 | After a few minutes of struggling, in the blacksmith in hand to cross-ex- amine him. | “Is it true that you have had some | asked he in an impressive manner. | sponded the blacksmith. | attorney | was some trouble, after all?” i of stealing a beil off my cow.” | even normal, development of all parts | | their meaning, but without much suc- telligence, and both sharpened by con- stant association with one another. I was not hurled to the ground. I was held aloft by one trunk, while the ther took the revolver from my hand and breught it up to the corresponding pair of eyes for examination. Then I was set quietly down, and a huge foot was placed upon me, quite gently, while the revolver was sed from ‘trunk to trunk and closely scrutinized, both the heads keeping up meanwhile a series of significant grunts which I have no doubt at all personally were cf the nature of language. he one trunk—the left one, I remember—took | the weapon, adjusted it clumsily be- | tween the thumb and hand, as I may call them, and discharged it. The great beast started convulsively, but did not drop the revolver; and then the other trunk eagerly stretched out to take it, | and managed to fire it off in its turn. “This took some time to happen. I | dare say each trunk was fiddling with | the revolver for ten minutes before it | managed to fire it. All that time I | lay on my back, with a huge foot planted on my abdomen, tching what occurred. 1 did not feel frightemn- ed; but I was very uncomfortable. My I captor continued to play with the re- { volver. It was like a child wi a new toy. Two more sh charged; | and then began a strange scene. “A furious altercation broke out be- tween the two heads, evidently with rd to the last in the —you remember I fired one The right trunk had the wea- pas ts were dis shot left pon; and the left strove to tear it away. Deafening blasts of trumpeting filled the air. Tusks clashed violent- ly as the maddened creature struggled with itself. I was forgotten. The im- prisoning foot was lifted, and as I rolled behind a rock the earth shook to the trampling of the six great feet. “The end was not long in coming. of which some fearful wounds were inflicted by each pair of tusks, I saw the writhing trunks twined together fly upward and back- ward. At the same instant a shot rang out, and next moment, with two tre- mendous bellows, the frightful creature toppled forward to its four knees, and immediately rolled over on its left side. “It was perfectly dead. My revolver, still smoking, was clutched convulsive- ly in the right trunk. It had gone off in the struggle, so close to the beast’s back as to singe the skin, and had shat- tered the spinal cord just behind the junction of the twin vertebral pro- cesses. There is no mor to camp, and the ne the co ‘se to tell. I returned day resumed my march. 1 presented the corpse to the Rajah and I daresay he has the hide and skeleton now.” The M or ceased speaking. There tful pause. They Mr. Har- ar what did belo The 1 War,” in the Twenty-sev- enth New Y¢ ment. We were known as the uthful Twenty-seventh, or General Washington's Own. If ever you're in the States, Major, at the time of one of our regimental reunions you must let me introduce you to some of the boys. They'd be surely gratified to know you. E. Clerihew, in Lonodn Daily News. Brought Back the Bell. n Smith of Michigan was counsel for the defendant in a criminal trial.in which the main wit- ness for the opposition was known to be a man of ill-repute. Naturally Smith's idea was to make as much of this fact as possible. So had called to the stand a stal- wart blacksmith known to have had dealings with the witness referred to. ne he “Tell us,” said Mr. Smith, “what you know of the reputation of the omplaining witness.” “He has a bad reputation in this locality,” responded the blacksmith. The prosecuting attorney then took trouble with the father of my client?” “No,” answered the big blacksmith decidedly. “Are you sure that you never had any trouble with him?” persisted the prosecuting attorney. ‘Nothing of any importance,” re- “Ah!” exclaimed exultantly. the prosecuting “Then there blacksmith accused him “Oh; careles said the sitaply well,” y. =] “But he denied it, did he not?” “Yes,” renlied the blacksmith, “but he brought back the bell the nex day.”—Sunday Magazine. A Job in the Yukon. When the Yukon was in the throes of a territor election a couple of years ago, one of the closest observers of the rather turbulent politics which characterizes the Far North was Chief Isaac, ruler of the Moosehide Indians, a tribe living near Dawson. The Chief, who is exceedingly shrewd, heard the words “job” and jobbery” often used in the campaign certain speecliies, and endeavored to ¢ CEss. He noticed, however, that money was always mentioned in con- nection with the two terms, and af- ter considerable refiection called on one of the head officials of the terri- tory. “Me wantum > he announced. “You want w asked the offi- cial in amazement, “No wantum work,” declared the, Chief, haughtily. “Me wantum get rich quick. Me wantum gov’ment job- bery.”—Sunday Magazine. ir'/ing One's Own Books. Girls with some leisure are finding the binding of beoks a charming occu- It is an 18th centry fashion revived this winter. Cloth is used, and tapestry and satin. One often sees small bits left over from furni- made of pasteboard, with cloth cover- niture upholstery. The covers are ing them like a pillow case, and the back put on separately. Sometimes ribbons are used across the back, laced through tiny silk rings. Coats and Hats. pation. Hats to match the sweaters are as important an adiunct to the costumes though it were an afternoon reception gown. Several different styles are being shown, and all are extremely becoming. One which comes in gray and white is a three-cornered i after the Napoleon style, though with- out any trimming other than a neat band about the crown. silk red, white, match the coats, Huge fleecy “Tams” gray, and black, to are also becoming to nearly every type of face. They are worn either far back on the head, in a jaunty fash- ion, or well forward, after the English style. More particularly for wearing in an automobile is a large crowned white serge cap, with a forepiece which can be firmly pinned down, so that there is liitle likelihood of its being whipped o:if by the wind. The straight trimmed sailor, so popular this summer in straw, is going to be worn in felt this fall and this style of hat is particularly well adapted for the new swea ers.—Washington Times. in The Rights of Children. “We must interpret the laws for the protection of the young against cruel- ty, oppression: and injustice, as evi- dence of the world’s growing sense of justice. Beginning with the factory act of 1833 and the mines and collier- ies act of 1842 in England, there has been a steadily increasing effort to diminish and prevent the degradation of the race hy the enslavement of childhoad to labor. Even the parent's right of control, the modern world, must be held in harmony with the child's right to life and growth, mental, moral and physical. ‘The law itself must recognize the injustice of dealing with young delinquents as if they were old and hardened criminals. No more herding children 10 and 12 years old in the common jail! Juv- enile courts and probation officers, asy- lums and reformatories, an intelligent says and systematic effert to reclaim the young life before it has fallen into hopeless bondage to crime: this is the spirit of civilized legislation to- day. In 1903 no less than 10 of the American states enacted special stat- utes with this end in view.”’—Harry Van Dyke in Everybody's Magazine. Pretty Little Nook. A most inviting little nook for a writing table may be made in a living or drawing room by setting the piano at right angles to a window and plac- ing a dainty French table prettily equipped with “writing accessories— which by the way, if smart will be of tortoise shell, back to back with the piano so that the light falls conveni- ently on the blotting pad. The back of the instrument itself may be cov- ered smoothly with velvet harmoniz- ing with the color tone of the room and finished arcund the edge with a dull gold galloon when the shade used in the other draperies will admit of this effect. To apply this velvet back- ing - with photographer's glue is the most approved method, as it does away with the danger of injuring the piano by hammering in even the tini- est of nails or brads. In a home where the piano back was so treated the owner was fortunate enough to possess a number of miniatures which she hung in groups on this velvet background. The happy idea oc- curred to her of passing a little piece of pretty, old-fachioned chine ribbon less than an inch in width through the ring at the top of each frame, thereby heightening the dainty effect wonderfully. By this means a charm- ing angle was made in the room, and the miniatures were given the best possible position as regards light and elevation.—Bridgeport Telegram. Smocking and Fagoting, Those pretty little dresses for chil- dren, made with no trimming except smocking, are among the simplest and most attractive fashions for wee folk. But it is not, by any means, confined to children’s clothes. but finds its way on some of the prettiest of the new dresses for ‘‘grown-ups.” Mark dots at regular intervals— with a pencil —faintly, so that they will soon rub off. 4 Then fold the ma- terial in plaits, with dots on top of the plaits. and take a stitch over two dots, holding them together. Then, push your needle diagonally through the cloth to a dot on the row below. and repeat the stitch. Then back to the first row and down again to the second, and so on, always working the two rows at once. is used for “tied tucks” In children’s dresses it deep vokes—the little giving plenty of fullness—and some- times at the top of the sleeve, and on the cuff, sometimes even on the yoke of the skirt. And on girls’ and wom- en’s dresses it is used almost every way, from being the only trimming to just appearing, perhaps, on a bit of chiffon. Fagoting has developed a new form, Instead of the sort of catstitching that it really was—the thread carried from side to side—-it is taken straight up and down. the needle-twisted two or three times around the thread on the return trip, the number of twists de- pending upon the distance apart of the bands to be joined by «it. The farther apart they are, the lacier will be the effect, but the thread should be heavi- er than for close work. But everything made of fagoting— collars, yokes, everything—should be made on a foundation cut out of pa- per.—Indianapolis News. ‘Mothers Frighten Men Away. “Are women matchmakers?” I be- lieve that there are very few women who are not interested in helping along a love affair, but the majority of them. are not clever encugh to do much good, says a writer in the New York Daily Tribune. In point of fact no one can really be a matchmaker, in the strict sense of the word, ex- cept the two persons immediately con- cerned. It’s the old proverb with a few words chanzoG-—cne woman can bring a couple tugetlicr. but ten in- terested females cannot make them fall in love. It woula take a man charged to the rull with purpose to win the girl who would not flee pre- cipitately when the 10 hove in sight. Every woman should not think that because she has a daughter she also has the necessary cleverness and tact to compass successfully a marriage for her. Most mothers cought to stop after they have introduced daughters to eligibles, except for inviting them to formal affairs. If a man is con- tinuaily invited to dinner or theatre party or dance by the same woman, his suspicions are aroused. A man cuce said to me—and he was not ab- normally conceited: “She's a mighty nice sort of girl, but her mother ap- peared so interested in me that I got scared and thought I had better stop before I was gathered intc the bosom of the family. The worst of it is, Nan and I were really good . friends, and I'm sure her intention wasn’t any more serious than my own, but her mother spoiled it all.” In the case of a less attractive girl than Nan, the man would have seen the trap more easily, and would have warned off the other men. Returning azain to the subject which is the immediate subject of this iiscussion, I will close my remarks by saying that in my opinion women are not matchmakers, because they don't know how to be, White ‘Shirtwaist Habit. Almost all housewives are complain- of the white . shirtwaist habit, which results in a young woman wear- ing as many as six shirtwaists a week, They look: very neat and clean, but only fér a very short time. An hour or so after the shirtwaist is donned by the working woman it looks dingy, and at home eoming it looks dowdy. ; “Six shirtwaists a week per girl,” said a woman recently, “An hour to wash, starch and dry; another hour to iron, and she wears one a day of cight hours and looks nice in it maybe two hours. ‘And for what? Just be- cause it is the style. 1 with four girls, all workers, and they have from 20 to 24 shirtwaists a week, des the stocks and laces. This white shirtwaist business has became a menace to the home. Unless the: mother of these girls do them at home ing the laundry bill would be enormous and would hardly do for a young woman.” There are young women who always look mice and trim in the cloth shirt- waist suits. Of course, it would be mtich nicer for the saleswomen if they would wear little aprons when en- gaged in their daily tasks. It would prove such a saving in keeping the front of the dress clean. Aprons are so easily and cheaply made, and there is no doubt but that their absence is due to thoughtlessness. Girls should be well-groomed and brushed. and if the white shirtwaists. which look so clean and neat are too much of a nuisance, then let them wear serviceable dark sowns. A cake of soap and water, together with a bit of energy and pride, will do won- ders toward keeping spots off clothes. A brushbroom is also a useful thing to keep near. Women should be as careful about their dress when going to work as if they were going out calling. Dress. ing properly for business is as much a duty of the woman who works as she who arravs herself in the attire. Of course, .the woman who is em- ployed skould never overdress, for when she makes the mistake she is decidedly out of place. If one start out for a day's business all bedecked in frills and furbelows, it is quite likely that the mind will be upon them rather than wpon the task ahead. The woman in the store should wear a black anron in order to save the dress, so that when she goes home she may look neat and clean. A morality play, founded on Bun- v “Pilgrim’s Progress,” has been successfully produced at Birmingham an’s .a rule the people I know a family” THE PEOPLE MOST SUBJECT TO THIS DREAD COMPLAINT. The Blues Are Always from Within and: May Be Thrown Off or Perse- vered in as the Sufferer Wills— Change of Scene a Good Prescrip- tion. There. are .persons who deny ever having the blues, but as a rule they confuse the term with hysteria and womanish fits of sulks. They do not call their own fits of depression the blues, but fit them with some more high sounding name. But the blues, nevertheless, are a distinct mental affliction to which humanity general- ly is subject. The blues have no special reason for being unless the old-time idea is right that they come from a disordered state of the liver. That the liver is closely connected with the mental at- titude resulting from an attack of the blues is indicated by the fact that dyspeptics are as a general thing mo- rose and given to brooding. But this does not hold good in all cases, for there are some notably cheerful dys- peptics, who joke over their enforced dieting and their lack of flesh. The active grief that follows a be- reavement or fit of illness or business trouble is in no way the same thing as the depression that comes un when there is a clear sky and envelopes everything in its fog. The one has a reason for being, the other is not so much a rebellion against conditions as a general tiredness of life, its du- ties, joys and sorrows. It is the con- dition which in many cases produces suicides otherwise unexplainable: So says a clever woman doctor, who. points out that, oddly enough, in hospitals the blues are not common among the patients and convalescents. There is too much of real suffering to admit of the brooding, self-analyzing condition’ that atacks people without reason in the world outside. The weather, she says, is one of the principal inviters of blues. A week of bad weather increases sui- cides and fills people with despond- ency. In many cases it is inseparable from a despondent state of mind. The east wind has always been accused of producing low spirits. But on thre other hand people can inherit the brooding and gloomy tem- perament just as they inherit sharp wits or dull ones, kindly dispositions or the reverse. There gre some who begin as children to ‘complain and whine over their small troubles, and if the habit is allowed to grow they find that life is a bore to them be- fore they reach maturity. But to doctors, the blues are sim- ply one of the symptoms of the gener- al nerve tiredness from which Ameri- cans suffer so much. They come from overwork and very often follow peri- ods of dissipation, The entirely healthy person will suf- fer griefs, disappointments and dis- couragements without ever experien- cing the hopeless, nerveless condition that people call the blues. People who cat improperly and live on ga schedule which turns night into day are the ones that are most subject to this dread complaint. People may worry over the trou- bles of others and suffer consider- ably on their account, but this is not the blues. The blues are always from within and they can be thrown off or persevered in as the sufferer will. As most subject to them are women whose home duties keep them shut indoors. Over sewing or household affairs ‘they will allow their minds to follow up the same old rut of throught, and by evening they are in a mental state which approaches a mild form of in- sanity. Doctors recognize the state of de- spondency as a symutom of various diseases. It is one of the invariable consequences of nerve ailments: but it is also a condition. which, like hys- teria, can be greatly aggravated by the patient's giving in to it. When people learn that it is quite possible to throw off an unwholesome mood there will not be so many peo- ple complaining of the biues—which usually consists of a fear of something about to happen, rather than what has happened. i There is an idea that only women have the blues, but men are quite of- ten the sufferers, and when thev suffer the attacks are very much wn.ore in- tense than the feminine sort and hard- er to get rid of. Gamblers regard the blues as a sure indication that their luck is going against them, and as a rule they cease to bet or make very small bets until the sun begins to shine for them again. When the blues are of short qura- tion, easily dispersed, they do not count for much, but when they seem to have come to stay and everything tends to make life seem less worth living, it is a pretty sure indication that something is wrong with the physical condition. So it is a wise idea to find out if anything is wrong with the body which produces the mental disquiet. The end of some fits of this sort is an attack of typhoid fever or malarial fever leading to typhoid. Desponad- ency is one of the surest symptoms of malaria in the system. depression of spirits in manv cases even with children who lose interest in their games and their companions after they have had an attack of this disease. Change of scene is always a good prescription for low spirits, but when a trip to Bermuda or Europe is not possible, it is a good idea to change, as far as possible, the routine of the day. Eat different foods, travel by Grip is also succeeded by an intense | “BLUES"—TIRED NERVES | ner of living just as far as circum- stances allow. The theatre is also considered a rather good remedy when the play is a musical comedy of the light and frivolous order. There is no doubt that such plays are aids in bringing people back to a normal mental state, although they may not relish this form of amusement ordinarily.— New York Sun. CLIMATE IN MANCHURIA. Frost at the End of October—Ten Months of Dry Season. The climate of Manchuria plays an important role in the war between Russia and Japan. Up to the present we have had but little precise infor- mation upon this point. Mr. J. Ross has lately given some indications as to the climate of that region and the character of the different seasons. He states that in the months of March and April there are strong southwest winds which bring with them heat and moisture. At the end of March tlie winter season ends. The under- soil can be worked for agriculture. April appears to be the only month of spring. At the end of this month: the sowing of wheat commences. Summer begins in May, and at the end of June or the beginning of July the wheat is cut. Up to the end of June rain is rare and the sky is gen- erally clear, while cloudy weather is an exception. The heat reaches a maximum at the end of July and first part of August. Afterwards come heavy rains or storms. It often rains for several days and nights without stopping. The soil is completely sat- urated, and inundations are frequent. September is the harvest month, while October gives some of the fin- est weather of the year. At this time the heat is agreeable during the day and the sky is clear, with bracing air, while vegetation is at its height. At the end of the month the first night frosts begin to appear, and in Nov- ember the cold weather commences and keeps up until March. 2 At Mukden, the temperature some- * times goes down as low as —33 de- grees C. During the day, however, the cold is not excessive, and some- times in the middle of winter the sun’s ravs become very warm, on ac- count of the southerly position of that locality. The maximum tempera- ture of summer is 98.6 or 100.4 degrees F. About ten months of the year are dry for the most part, and the ex- cessive wet season only occurs dur- ing a month or so. At Nintschwang, on the north shore of the Gulf of Liao-tung, the mean winter tempera- ture is 16 degrees F., and the mean for the summer 74.8 degrees. - The mean annual temperature is 47.1 de-— grees F. Thé Russian maritime prov-4 inces have a very low mean annual temperature. Thus at Vladivostocik the average fo rthe winter is 10.2 de- grees F., and for the summer it is only 39.9 degrees F.—Scientific Am- erican. An Old Man's Love. An old Italian strolled into a Sec-’ ond avenue flower store yesterday af- ternoon and in an infirm voice asked the price of a large La France rose : which was proudly rearing its head above a vase. He was roughly clad E and did not look as if he were in the habit of buying La France roses, so the florist curtly answered, “Dollar each.” “Too mucha,” said the old man in a wavering voice, as he stepped back to make way for a fashionably dressed woman who purchased a bunch :at 25 cents apiece. After the woman had passed out of the store the old man again approached the fiorist, asking him why he charged the woman 25 cents for a rose and had asked him §1. “What do vou want with a rose? asked the dealer sharply. : “I tella you,” responded the voice. shaken with emotion. “My wifa she die two, tree vear ago and leava me one little girl, nama Rosa. I lova ma leetle ‘Rosa because she all I got- ta left. When I go home froma work, - leetie Rosa she runa an’ meeta me, I lova Rosa. When she meeta me I placa her head against my breast, so, and cry, I am so lonesome for, my wifa. “one day, when I come home, there is no Rosa to meet me. She is vera sick. I'm not get moocha mon, but I getta da doctor, but it ees too late. My leetle Rosa die, and I bury her next by her mother; and tomer- row I lika to place a red rose on her grave.” By the time the old man had reached this part of his story tears were coursing down his cheeks, and with a gulp the florist took several large, fine roses from the vase and told him to take them to his Rosa's grave. The old fellow grabbed the flowers and with a “Mucha oblige” left the store.—Seattle Post-Intelli- gencer. i It Was Too Late to Change. A member of the faculty of the Co- Inmbian Medical college at Washing- ton is particularly fond of taking his students unawares in his “quizzes.” To one student, whom it would not be un. charitable to call a dullard, the pro other routes, seek clrange in the man- | 4 | fessor said one day: “What quantity constitutes a dose of ?” giving the technical name of » | croton ofl. “A teaspoonful,” was the answer. The instructor made no comment, and the student soon realized that he had made a mistake. After a quarter of an hour had elapsed, he said: “Professor, I should like to change my reply to that question.” “I'm afraid it’s too late, Mr. Blank.” responded the professor, looking at his watch. ‘Your patient has been dead fourteen minutes.”—Collier’s Weekly. . The Re Beau Yet Ever Broo: Benedic hurch, tieth av day mor The text walked - took hin translat; pleased his i: prehensi > . passages tell us a ing the : pedestria step, he: feel inst resolute, ceed. A gait, dra them, ar 'A third his way you knc scheming unsteady pavemen his feet, watch h poor fell trays hi { of his lif One is he keeps and com persons you conf troubles every jo: estimati ity of ch and ign would se impure, ciates ar fluenced actions Jeon, we ings and panions. > "The nn tions cra ginning i good for , a compa constitut «with wt some go our expe ciation, and rejo The s ) God's w He who God Om cience, w name is to becom man, Hi ) stranges There * ‘Tis thi friendshi of Jehov Of all 1 be geate the frien not? Th closest a1 companic for life's dant am ; yet be re p The tr men hav darkness their de chapters +! "has been been out tor. Tt is rc inspired ancient 1 dren, anc ‘holy life, who plea sketch o the lines face of f graphy, truths co y To wa ' reconcili . not on g was whe ) harmonic H them. ° garden i fore Him slave. bu and I h somethin a falling “Sin cam separatio has been The I: onciliatio be made ? estrangec tween h sinned a even wh mined tc breach a ated by s - “as Media © *‘Hath n - down the "aus, hayin ty,” and death on Accept of recon terms cs The trou turning « difficultie adjusted into God’ the poin Christ, t of life, a covery, ] passed a new.” 2. Patrick I idea of t by profes |B He atter IBEW. for the f
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers