A ,. aa ue lane oF [rast REsisTaNCE, qd —D. OQ» By Grace ELiERY CHANNING, REALLY don’tknow which is the more charming of the two,” said Aunt Myra, n as her nieces hurried up al 5] the path. “They are certainly creditable types of young America,” assented Uncle Charlie, in a tone of much satisfac- tion. All unconscious of this critical sur- vey, the two girls hurried forward. It was not every day that one had an uncle and aunt come home from Europe. Aunt Myra, in particular, represented to their untraveled eyes something foreign and marvelous. Rodney and the younger children, their first curiosity sated, had returned to their usual pursuits. but the elder girls could with difliculty keep their eyes from their aunt, or themselves from her side. “0 aunty,” said Myra, seizing one arm while Susie possessed herself of the other, “do come and see our gar- dens!” and they led her away between them, while Uncle Charlie sauntered behind, mentally trying to decide be- tween Mpyra’s blonde prettiness and Susie’s rosy charm. “Mine isn't much to observed Susie, ruefully, “but Myra’s garden is lovely.” “Now, what makes the difference. 1 wonder?’ thought Aunt Myra, looking keenly down on the two little plots, while Myra, from her flowery one, gathered a handful of roses and helio- trope while Susie hunted vainly among the leaves of hers for violets. “I'm afraid they are all gone,” she announced, regretfully, rising. “Father likes to take a few into the office every day. I guess he took the last. And I did have some lovely carnations, but Rod must have picked them for the dance last night, so there's nothing but mignonette left. TI always plant a lot of that; mother's so fond of it.” She offered a cluster of the green and brown heads apologetically. “Mignonette is quite good enough for any one,” said Aunt Myra. “Including me,” said Uncle Charlie, helping himself to a spray. “And me!” broke in Rodney's voice, laughingly, while without ceremony he stopped and plucked several bits from his sister's garden. ‘By the way, Su- sie, I rifled your plot of some superfine carnations last night.” “I judged you did,” she replied. “You took all there were, mad boy!” “If you had asked me, I would have given you some roses,” said Myra. “It was easier helping myself to Su- gie’s. I knew she wouldn't mind,” an- swered Rodney; and again Aunt Myra glanced inquiringly from one to the other. “T’ll take these to your room now, aunty,” Myra continued, “and then we'd like to show you ours; that is, if you're not too tired or busy?” “My present business is to make ac- quaintance with my nieces, and I think rooms tell a great deal about the peo- ple who live in them,” said Aunt Myra, mischievously. “Oh dear me!” thought Susie. “We'd better show you Myra’s first, then,” she said, aloud. “Come along, Uncle Charlie,” said; Rodney, promptly slipping an arm through his uncle’s and walking him off behind the ladies till they halted on the threshold of Myra's room. ‘This jis a charming room!” ex- claimed Aunt Myra, glancing with pleased eyes from the dainty bed and toilet-table to the spotless muslin cur- tains, the divan with its neatly piled cushions, the bookcase with its orderly editions, and last, the carefully ap- pointed writing-table, with its fresh sheet of blotting paper and pretty silver “fixings.” “Just the kind of nest I like to see a young girl in,” commented Aunt Myra, approvingly, “and I see you take care of your things, too.” Myra flushed with pleasure. “O dear me!” Susie exclaimed involuntar- ily, so that every one looked at her in astonishment, and she laughed aloud. “I'm afraid you won't approve of my room at all, Aunt Myra,” she said, as she led the way across the hall, adding heroically, “Come in, please!” as she flung open the door. *Why, I cali this a charm 100,’ began Aunt Myra, and stopped, vaguely puzzled. “The children see,” ing room, will make book- houses,” said Susie, dolefully, glancing at the shelves, where big and little books alternated without regard to sets. “And the baby will leave his blocks here”’—she swept a pile hastily from the sofa and began “plumping” up the disordered cushions—‘“and these cush- jons ought to have been recovered long ago, I know, but—" “But she has a big brother who comes in and makes hay of them daily, and who is responsible for a goodly portion - of the wear,” put in Rodney, coming io the rescue with an affectionate pat on Susie's shoulder. “J don’t much blame him,” said Uncle Charlie. “That's an awf{uliy tempting «corner. I shall be caught sinning my- self some day.” “Oh, please do!” said Susie. “That writing-table looks dreadfully, aunty. Pon writes all his exercises there; and the children do get at things,” she add- 2d, fitting the pieces of a broken can- dlestick together. Aunt Myra made the circuit of the | room, noting silently as she did so that | ghe writing-table had seen many del- | i | “but I will take this. uges of ink, the chairs much service, and the carpet and books hard wear. She kept these observations to herself, however, only praising the cheerful and homelike feeling, “which is the greatest charm of any room,” she said, smiling at her dejected niece. The three went down stairs arm in arm, whither Uncle Charlie and Rodney had already preceded them, intent on ten- nis. “Somebody will ‘have to lend me a racket,” Uncle Charlie was saying, eye- ing the rack. “Oh, there's Susie’s,” returned Rod- ney. “Or wait, you'd better have mine, and I'll use Susie’s.” He took down two battered specimens. “The fact is, Don has played so many matches with this that it’s more or less invalided; but I know its weaknesses.” “What's the matter with this?” said his uncle, reaching for a third, and swinging it scientifically. “Seems to be all right. New, too.” “Oh, that's Myra’s,” began Rodney, when Mpyra’s voice cut him short. “You are more than welcome to use it, Uncle. Please do.” Uncle Charlie hesitated a moment, then laid the racket aside with an odd expression. “Thank you, but I think I’d better stick to the family one. My rackets have a way of coming to grief.” The puzzled look on Aunt Myra's face deepened as the day wore on, but she devoted herself to drawing out her young relatives on the subjects of their tastes, occupations and diversions. Af- ter dinner they all gathered about the library-table, looking over the hand- some editions of their favorite authors, which the girls had received the pre- vious Christmas. In the midst of the admiration and discussion, Mr. Chauncey entered. Tak- ing up a volume of Mpyra's beloved Hawthorne, he began to turn the pages, and becoming interested, sat down and was soon absorbed. Bedtime found him still reading, and Myra, after bid- ding the others good night, gathered up the rest of the set carefully and ap- proached her father. “Good night, father!” “Good night, child!” he answered, ab- sently kissing the offered cheek with- out removing his eyes from the page. Myra hesitated a moment. “Did you want anything, child?’ he asked, innocently looking up. “No, nothing,” said Myra, hurriedly. She stooped and kissed him again. “Good night! Oh, and by the way, fa- ther, when you have finished with that volume, will you please bring it up- stairs? 1 like to keep them together.” “What? Oh!” Mr. Chauncey woke up suddenly with a startled air. “Take it with you now, my dear. I was mere- ly glancing at it.” Uncle Charlie and Aunt Myra stooped simultaneouesly to pick up a news- paper. “Oh, no, keep it as long as you like,” said Myra, graciously. ‘No, no!” Her father shut the book. “l have plenty else to do,” and with a sigh as of one brought sharply back to realties, he pulled out a budget of business papers and fell to work. After a moment of hesitation, Myra walked away with the bool. Uncle Charlie and Aunt Myra greeted her with the usual smiles the next morning, and the former announced that unpacking their trunks would en- gage them that day. “Only I shall have to borrow some- body’s table and ink first to write a business note,” he added. “Go right up and use mine, uncle.” said Susie. “You will be perfectly quiet there.” “Or mine,” said Myra. “Much obliged to you both,” replied their uncle, gathering up his papers. Half an hour later he rejoined them, saying casually: “You'll find a few cxtra ink spots on your blotter, Susie. Being a careless fellow. 1 didn’t risk inking Myra's. And now,” he added. “your aunt and I will just spin down and gather in those trunks if one of you will lend her a wheel. I've already requisitioned Lod- ney’s.” “Take mine, of course, aunty,” said Susie. - “That is, if you don’t mind a dreadfully shabby one. Mother and Don and I all use it, so somehow it is never clean.” “I was going to offer aunty imine,” began Myra, in a tone of vexation. Oh, then you had better take dMyra’s, aunty,” said Susie. “Thank you both,” Aunt Myra re- sponded, slipping away to dress. When she emerged, a very elegant figure in her handsome suit, she found both wheels drawn up for inspection. Mjyra’s shone like new, while Susie's scarred handle-bar, tarnished spokes and worn tires bore marks of hard usage. “Do take Mpyra’'s, aunty!” said Susie. “You see mine does look like destruc- tion.” “They are honorable scars,” said Aunt Myra. She hesitated, looking from one to the other. “Do be careful, Don!” said Mjyra, sharply, as her small brother gave the pedal a whirl. “You scratch the ep- amel all up.” Aunt Myra laid her hand suddenly upon Susie's handle-bar. “Thank you both,” she said, quietly, I am rather out of practice and might scratch the en- amel myself.” “Just as you please, of course,” said Myra, coldly. She put her wheel in the rack and walked away without another look. Late that afternoon a knock gt the door of Aunt Myra’s room summoned that lady. Myra stood on the thresh- old. “May I speak to you a moment?’ she inquired, with an air of injured dignity. “Why, certainly. Come in, dear,” re- plied her aunt, hospitably. Myra, however, declined the proffered chair, and remained standing stiffly. “I only wanted to ask what I have done to offend you and uncle?” “What makes you think we are of- fended?” “Neither you nor uncle will let me do the slightest thing for you. You refuse everything of mine for Susie’s. You wouldn't ride my wheel, 3 play with my racket, or write at my table, and just now, when uncle wanted a dictionary and I offered mine, he said, ‘Perhaps Susie has one.” ” In spite of herself, Aunt Myra’s lips twitched, but glancing at the tragic figure before her, she controlled herself and answered soberly: ‘“When one is in Rome, one does as the Romans do. Whose wheel does your mother ride?” “‘Susie‘s generally, but——" ‘Whose racket does everybody play with?’ “Susie's, but—" “If there is a letter to write, or a book to read, or a flower to gather, whose room or whose garden does every one turn to?” “I know,” began Myra, flushing. “Where do the babies go if they want a playground?” “They prefer to—" “Why do they prefer to?” “I don’t know.” “Ah.” sald her aunt, “I 0.” “But,” protested Myra. “I have of- fered both you and Uncle Charlie—" “Oh, you have been most polite, my child; but do you think any one conld be in this house a day and not see that things are your treasures, and where our treasure is, there will our hearts be every time. The responsibility for your things is too heavy, my dear.” “You mean because I am particular? 3ut you said yourself you liked to see things taken care of.” “I did; I do. I even think it is rather hard on Susie that her things are bor- rowed so much; but all the world can’t have a bicycle and a tennis racket, and to give and take is about the best of life, in families or out of them. You can’t lend your possessions now, ycu see, and that’s a dreadful poverty.” “Aunt Myra!” “Well,” said her aunt, rising, “iry and see. Youll have an excellent oppor- tunity ready to your hand, for your uncle is taking your father, your mother and Rodney to the opera. Some- body is sure to want something before they get started.” Aunt Myra proved a true prophet. “Susie, dear,” exclaimed Mrs. Chan- cey, at the last momeut, “where are your opera-glasses?”’ “All ready and waiting, mother. Only do remember to keep the shabby case hidden,” Susie, added, with a. laugh, tucking it into her mother’s hand. “Take mine, mother,” said, Myra, with a little defiant glance at ber aunt. “I’ll run and get them.” “Thank you, dear.” There was a note of surprise in her mother's voice. “But I don’t mind the case, and I am used to these. Something might hap- pen to yours.” “It looks threatehing in the west! called Uncle Charlie, from the door. “Better take umbrellas.” “Dear me, and I left mine at the of- fice!” said Mr. Chauncey. “Rodney— but you will need your own. Susie, my child, lend me yours. will you?’ “Let me lend you mine, father,” rer- sisted Myra, but without meeting her aunt's eyes this time. “Mine is larger.” “No, no; this one of Susie’s will do very “well,” said Mr. Chauncey, good- naturedly. “And besides, I might for- get again and leave it in town.” And at that moment Rodney capped the climax by hurrying up with an im- petuous: “I say, Susie, just let me have your watch this evening, there's nn good fel- low. 1 left mine to be mended.” “You can have mine,” faltered Myra, with a movement to unpin it; but her brother merely stared, and answered with fraternal eandor: thanks! This is a pleasure- I shouldn’t have a moment's peace of mind.” “Here's mine,” said Susie, Slipping it into her brother's hand. ’ “While you are about it,” she added slyly, “you can just have your man put in a new crystal when you get yours.” “Now that Susie has equipped the expedition, suppose we start,” observed Uncle Charlie. Aunt Myra had disappeared; but fif- teen minutes later she opened her door for the second. tim2 vo her namesake, who burst out despairingly: ‘O Aunt Myra, do you think it is all my fault?” “Yes and no. - Come in, my child. They never ought to have let you grow up in such ways. But families, like other things, follow the line of least resistance. In this case that is—Susie. Then grown-ups have their own cares and worries. It's rather hard to expect them to keep disciplining themselves in order to discipline you—which is*avhat it comes to. You will have to cure Yourself, I'm afraid.” “But, Aunt Myra, it's dreadful!” “It is,” responded Aunt Myra, sober- ly. She was seated beside a capacious trunk, which at any other moment would have made Myra’s pulses dance with anticipation. “Sit down. I am facing this very problem now. We are a good many Christmases and birth- days in arrears, you know, So we brought you each something special in addition to gloves and trifles. Rodney is to have a watch, which I hope will extend the term of life of Susie's. Don “No, comes in for a shotgun, under promise not to shoot song-birds or himself. le- membering your fondness for pretty things, we intended this for you.” Khe laid a white satin case on \ s knee, and pressing a spring, disciosed a charming pearl ring. *No, please dent fall in love with it,” she added, quickly covering it with one hand, and as Myra looked up with an expression she could not hide, her aunt laid a beautiful little camera on the other knee. “This' was for Susie,” said Aunt Myra slowly, looking into the young face before her. “But,” she added, stili more slowly, “everybody in the house is going to want to borrow this, and no one, even in this house, 1 think, is likely to borrow a pearl ring.” There was a moment's pause: then Myra shut the little case with a heroic gulp. “I understand. Give it to Susie, Aunt Myra; she deserves it.” “Yes, I think she does. Dut this » She laid a finger on the camera. “I don’t deserve that or anything else,” said Myra. “It might, however, be made a means of grace, not to say discipline,” and for the first time Aunt Myra’'s .eyes twinkled a little. “Every one will want to borrow it. Tis nickel will be scratched and its leather rubbed. 1 can’t think of a more poignant {trial for—" But at this point her words were smothered by two young arms thrown about her neck. while a voice between laughter and tears pleaded: “Don’t, Aunt Myra! Don't say an- other word, please. If you are good enough to give me that camera—and I'd truly almost as soon have it as the ring—I'll make it the most popular thing in the family. You'll sce! Susie won’t be in demand, after this, at all.” t she lied that “Well, I think it is high time t was out of demand for a little,” 1 Aunt Myra, with emphasis, “and the poor child had somcthing—besides soul—to call her shall have the ring; and you, my dear, enter without delay upon your course of mar- tyrdom.” With a merry iaugh, but a glance of deep. meaning, she Iaid the camera in her nlece’s arms.—Youdl's Companion. it a her owl. She WHEN SHOES ARE DAMP. A Quart of Clean Oats Will Kecp Thicm in Good Condition. Much advice is given f time to time 'in regard to the’ eare of the youngsters’ shoes us they come in from school, wet and missiiapen from c¢o- tact with wet pavements and the un- confessed wading in puddies, which is sure to delizht the bk of the small boy. But with all inis keeping the children’s shoos condition, those.belonging to the «¢ people are usually allowed to take care of themselvas, ‘though thiey may be of cven greater importarce and quite as often damp. Few people give proper care to their shoes. They come in damp, tired. cold perhaps, and possibly not in the best of tempers, fling their shees off impa- tiently, get into slippers as quickly as possible, and sit down to rest, forget- ting that their shoes wiil be in scarcely wearable condition by tlie next morn- inc, If every one would invest in a guar or two of good clean oats. and keep them in a bag in the dressing-rcom, they would have at hand the means of putting their shoes in good ecndilion with very little trouble aad iess cost. As soon as the shoes are taken off lace or button them up. and fill them about two-thirds full of oats, shake them down well, then tie in a hand- kerchjef a parcel of oats as large as can be pressed iuto the top of the shoes to fill the remaining space and put the shoes away until' wanted. 'The oats absorb the moisture in the shoes, aud in absorbing it the oats swell ¢onsia- erably, and the constant pressure on the leather keeps the shoe in co shape and prevents that uncomiort- able stifiness and rigidity always no- ticed when leather has Leen wet. A little trouble and care of this sort will save many a pair of shoes, and in all probability will save many a corn from being formed by the pressure of shoss hardened from dampness, 2s in ct Had Feathered His Nest, "hie by which perity is measured is not always the same. But it docs ust so mnelh mat- ter what standard is used so lon it shows accurately the amount of gain or loss, “I remember Bill Gassett as a less young mne’er-do-well.” said a mer neighbor of Mr. Sands, revi his old home after many years’ ab- sence, “but I hear he left his widow quite a substantial property. IIow id he manage it?” ¢ “He made choice of an exce and she took him as the smartest women often take the poorest mens of the men-foll:s.” =aid Mr. Sands, thoughtfully, “and wial{'s more, she made something of him, put some gimp into him, and what all. Why, sir, when he marseied her all he had for a mattress was an old. makeshift stuffed with dried leaves; and wien he died he had no less'n three mattresses stuffed with Ilive-goose feathers. I guess that tells the story.”—Youth's Companion. worldly prose syle id Wail Oc] speci Which One? Representative Lacey's home {own at Oskaloosa once furnished a consul to Rome. The honor was appreciated, but the functions of S. H. M. Byers, the beneficiary, wera variously inter- preted by the local folk. “A stranger arrived in town one day,” said Mr. Lacey, ‘locking for By- ers’ residence. He inquired the way from a pedestrian, something of a char- acter in Oskaloosa. “ ‘Which Byers do you want? re- turned this Oskaloosan. ‘Is it 0ld man Byers, or his son, who was emperor at ome & few years? ”—Washington Post, AMERICAN PRESS FREE. None in the World So Far Removed From Venality. The twenty-fifth anniversary of the founding of the Chicago Press Club was celebrated with a banquet in the clubrooms., In after dinner speeches statesmen and authors of national rep- utation, invited guests and newspaper men praised the power and influence of the American press in the highest terms. The principal speakers of the evening were Colonel George Harvey, of New York, and Governor Albert E. Cummins, of Towa. Iwo hundred and forty members of the club, with their zuests, were present. ITomer J. Carr, president, was toastmaster. Colonel Harvey, in responding to the toast, “The Freedom of the Press,” said: There is no pres: in the world com- parable to that of America in freedom from influence, political or social. from venality. from contamination of any kind whatsoever. In France, a news- paper's opinions are a matter of francs; in England, tco often of titles: in Ger- many, Austria and Spain, of imperial favor; in Russia, of absolute censor- ship. In America, thanks to the main- tenance of the sturdy traditions estab- lished by the Greeleys, Raymonds, Danas, Bennetts, Medills and Bowleses of the past, the fundamental integrity of the press cannot be impugned. Itis faultful, but it is free, We have our sadly exaggerated headiines, on week days, and our nonstrosities on Sun- days; we have amazing productions of no less amazing *art;’ we have ccl- umns and columns of crime, and pages and pages of waste. I'inally. not least at any rate. in numbers. we have our red and white papers, sometimes referred to as “yellow journals.” Personally. I should be of the last to defend or make apology for this latest manifestation of commercialism, mis- directed ambition and false doctrines in the American press. But, however seriously we may rexzret and resent the ebullition, we cannot ignore the irre- sistible conclusion that this particular channel, and this alone, affords a vent for unexpressed beliefs and suspicions which can be dissipated only by the ciear rays of reason following any form cf expression. As contrasted with our own country, Russia to-day stands forth a vivid ex- ample of the effect of suppressed opin- jon. Discontent would better burn than smoulder. The continuous hissing of offensive gases escaping is not pleas- ant, but it is infinitely preferable to otherwise inevitable explosion. Yet more imporant, more vital to the per- manence of a governinent of a whole people by themselves, is absolute free- aom of expression. Upon that all de- pends, Restrict it, or create the im- pression in suspicious minds that it is being restricted, and you sow the wind. With this general dictum few if any would have the hardihood to disagree. ut it is often, and 1 regret to say often truly, urged that liberty is sub- verted to license. Freedom of speech, freedom of publicity, yes: ail admit the wisdom and necessity of preserving both. But how frequently is added, especially by men in public ofice, a vigorous declamation against ‘unfair criticism,” and how almost daily is uttered, sometimes a violent and un- warranted, sometimes a dignified and justifiable. protest against “invasion of privacy,” “encroachment upon personal rights” and like offenses. Only those behind the curtain of the cditorial sanctum can fully appraciate the proportion of insincerity contained in the virtuous avowals of shy and re- tiring, though weak and human beings of both sexes. In nine cases out of ten, the most vociferous protest may be at- tributed safely to self-sufficiency, snobbishness or a guilty conscience. Thera is so little of malice in American newspapers as to be unworthy of no- vice, but it unquestionably true that too litiis Qieed is paid {o the fact that un- wilful misrepresentation is often quite ax serious in effect. Worst of all is the refusal to rectify a known error, Cursed be the man wlio initiated the policy of never mak- ing a redraction in the columns of Lis journal! The mere fact that an indi- vidual, whether right or wrong, isvirtu- ally voiceless and helpless in contro- versy with a newspaper, should and aoes raorally vest him with the right to cxceptional consideration. A lie once staried can never be stopped, but the one responsible for its circulation, di- rectly or indirectly; who fails to exert every possible endeavor to that and is unworthy of association with decent men, An American newspaper should Le an American gentle To see the right is genius: to do it iz courage. Unite the two under the han- ner of sane idealism, and the most po- { force in the cause of prog ahtenment and good will lie free press of America. 1 ——————————— Sweaters For Dogs. Dog sweaters are the “latest thing” in canine clothes. They are not the old-fashioned blankets, made in the many different styles of the past dozen Years, but knit sweaters, made with as much care, apparently, as those the athletic girl wears while skating on the park lakes. jut these sweaters are just now in- tended for the dog that goes riding with his misiress in an automobile. For this purpose the aforesaid mistress discovered that the blanket, no matter how tightly it fitted ‘“‘dear Fido,” was not sufficient to keep him warm in the cold air that whizzes past the occu- pants of an automobile as they dash along the Lancaster pike. So she had the sweater knit for him, and the gues- tion of how the dog was to be kept warm was solved. ; Only a few of the new kind of “dog clothes” have been made as yet, but, as one fair automobilist expressed it, “the fashion is growing.”—Philadelphia Press. KEYSTONE STATE COLLINGS REVER GAVE UP HOPE. Husband Had Been Missing for 60 Years—Wife Dies from Burns, Her Clothes Igniting. Mrs. Catherine Sailor Brown, died at her home in Nicholson township, near Uniontown, as the result of her clothing catching fire from an open grate last week. Her husband, Andrew Brown, disappeared over 60 years ago. He was a stock dealer, and started from home for Baltimore, but never returned. His wife never gave up the hope that at some time she would hear from him. An assault, which may end in mur- der, was made on Thomas Kotler, a butcher, of Millsboro. While on his way to West Brownsville, Kotler was accosted by two foreigners who beat him into insensibility and robbed him of about $80, taking his books and private papers also. Kotler was found a short time afterward and medical aid was summoned, but his recovery is doubtful. One of the assailants was captured in West Brownsville, and is being held for a hearing, but the other robber has not been apprehended. When the Pennsylvania Railroad Company changed its line to extend its four-track system into Pittsburg, the course of Brush creek at Larimer was diverted. Farmers and others whose properties are situated along the old fill claim that the water over- flows their land, damaging land, crops and buildings. Numerous suits have been brought, and it is said more are to follow. Two have just been filed by George and Robert West of Lar- imer, who claim $2,600 damages. 5 With his arm torn off to the shoulder Thomas Divers, an engineer at the Hamilton Bottle works, at But- ler, walked to the offices of the works, refused to take an anaesthetic while an amputation was being made, and did not lose consciousness nor flinch. The accident was caused by his sleeve becoming entangled in the belt and shaft of a blower which he was oiling. Antonio Guardino, on trial at Hunt- ingdon for the killing of Barnado Tet- toxto, was convicted of murder in the second degree. The two men worketl in the coal mines at Robertsdale. Guardino has acc: Tettoxto of having killed a fri in Italy. He laid in wait for Tettox- to and shot him. Thomas R. Dodd of Suterville, a flagman on the Baltimore & Ohio rail- road, fell from his train at Demmler and was killed. The day before his death he told his parents that he had dreamed he would be killed, and di- rected that his gold watch be given to a younger brother. Dodd was 23 vears old and single. John R. Carothers of Uniontowsa, has bought the Hughes Deffenbaugh farm, nedr McClellandtown, the con- sideration being about $75,000. This includes about 100 acres of surface and 50 acres of coal. Coke ovens will be erected and the work of develop- ing will begin in the early spring. Frank P. Ray, member of the Legis- lature from Crawford county, was taken to the City hospital at Mead- ville, when Dr. Hamaker amputated his right leg above the knee. Mr. Ray is suffering from heart trouble, and, circulation having ceased in the leg, gangrene was threatened. Superintendent Amos E. Gillespie, of the Scottdale furnace, announced a voluntary increase in wages of 10 cents a day for employes. The Scott- dale furnace is operated by Corrigan, McKinney & Co., of Cleveland and employs 400 men. The new wage rate is to go into effect in March. The deal by which the Westmore- land Coal Company secures the hold- ings of the Penn Gas Coal Company gives the purchasing company all of the Pittsburg vein of gas coal in this field. The output the coming year will exceed 3,000,000 tons, and 3,000 men will be employed. The New York and Cleveland Gas Coal Company has made arrangements ‘to open several mines on the Ringer farm, along the proposed extension of the Turtle Creek Valley railroad. When the mines are opened the rail- road will be extended to one-half mile west of Delmont. The Shenango Traction company was refused a franchise by the Shar- on council, and Burgess Blaney, of Sharpsville, vetoed the ordinance granting the Shenango company the right to lay its tracks on the princi- pal streets of Sharpsville. Hugh Jones of Sharon, who a year ago was struck by a street car here and suffered a broken neck from which he finally recovered, has brought suit against the Mahoning Valley Railroad Company for $50,000 damages. In the competitive six-day sparrow hunt in Amwell township, Wast ton county, last week, 29,099 were killed, according to the oficial count. Two teams cf 10 men each en- gaged in the hunt. The Fibrous Cecrk Insole Company, of Lockport, N. Y., has made arrange- ments to remove its plant to New Cas- tle. Two hundred operators will be employed. the greater number of "whom will be girls. Michael Proakes, a track-walker employed by the Pennsylvania rail- road, was killed by a train, wear Franklin, Pa. The Seventh Ward Presbyterian Church at New Castle, has accepted the offer of Andrew Carnegie to pay half the cost of a $2,000 pipe organ. Michael Sturgis, 40 years old, was caught in a conveyor at the American Steel and Wire company’s plant at South Sharon, and crushed te death. Fireman Shroyer, of Oil .ity, was killed in a freight wreck on the low grade division of the Pennsylvania Railroad, near Oak Ridge. Ralph Whittaker, 11 years old, was probably fatally injured in a coasting accident at New Castle His sku¥% was fractured. i SN A BRILL MAUD THE Subje Brook] ity at th to its ut meeting pressive tion for men all heads b prayer Mrs. | address: I este the opp from m this aft I come that I audienc own; th some tl stand u is not o you as morning can foll touch. out upo somethi whom I fore m morning sense a was an an audi the one but, ah audienc dience chance, from tl blessing and jo] prison the bit as I ris afterno much t audienc here to noon. captive who a1 the wa those 1 but th streets day an citizen: becaus freedor bring. lines a “Two | One s st. And day th . men ir those looking world, purity, with i things and dr are the keep t - God's walk i § tory ¢ quiver ¢ in the as tru 1 were 1 ‘ herds to Bet are in would would own e of ma The drous ~ wondr of Cal the pa L.body cast ¢ deed some pages lived of me in oul cleans ness \ cause we ha and © we st His f we ha and 1 restor made we he bound and n with Who to me parts delive pass footst the fq stop t their make positi stveet It is rushi: Wh cause world Messe love and ¢ exists the h and t perier the e carrie they | swep! realiz They not co they whiel light, as an us in stepp some
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers