THE MORNING HILLS. He sits among the morning hills. Ilia faro Is bright and strong; He swans far heights, but scarcely notes The herdsman's idle song. He cannot, brook this peaceful life While battle's trumpet calls; He sees a crown for him who wins, A tear for him who falls. The flowery glens and shady slopes Are hateful to his eyes; Beyond the heights, beyond the storms. The land of promise lies. He is so old and 6its so still. With face so weak and mild. Wo know that he remembers naught Save when he was a child. His fight is fought, his fame is won, Life's highest peak is past; The laurel crown, the triumph arch. Are worthless at the last. The frost of ago destroys the bay, The loud applause of men Fall s feebly on the palsied ears Of threescore years and ten. He does not bear the voice that bears His name arouud the world; He has no thought of great deeds done Where battle tempests whirled; But evermore lie is looking back. Whilst memory fills and thrills With echoes of the herdsman's song Among the morning hills. —Maurice Thompson. THE DOOMED SKATER. We wore twins, Jack and I, but other wise unlike. Ho was a line fellow; I acknowledged his supremacy and re joiced in his bold, free spirit. From his childhood he had been the most impul sive creature that ever pointed a moral for headlong youth. Ever in scrapes and difficulties, hut never to hi 3 dis honor. Jack fought one-half his ac quaintances into loving him, which the rest did of their free v. ..1, and my heart still warms involuntarily toward the wild, impulsive boy, with his headstrong soul all agog for mischief. 1 confess I was somewhat dismayed by the aspect of this new country in which wo wero forced to settle, fresh from the sunny lanes of Kent and the loved circle at home, and how could it be otherwise? But as for Jack, he was in raptures with everything that dis quieted me. Nothing was more charm ingly romantic t.ia.i our iiut on the bluff, and 110 river could equal the brown, mel ancholy bcugog. We did not tettle down to the regula tion life of the settler all at once; we determined lo sip the nectar of life on the Ucugog, if, indeed, there was any of that ambrosial draft to ho drained in the township. Tne fascination of the swift canoe nept us almost constantly 011 the uarh, myoteriuus river; and in truth there was scarcely any ohier outlet from our dwelling save on its waters. By day we lisncd and wo shot from our frail skiff.;, and by night, when the moon was up, we would pauulo them in her silvery wake. 1 have said that a few rough settlers f0r...0d our society on the Scugog. Among them were some half breeds—a species of degenerate Indian—who had sunk from tne dignity of forest life to ilie ta vuuuo and bunoling of the white setiicis. 'nicy were lazy, good lor noth ing Iff .lows, except in me matter of fish ing or shoo hag, wherein they were pro- Ik iont. Wo found tnem useful in giv ing instruction 111 the canoe life of our river home. 1 preferred, for my own part, to go pretty much by myself 011 our wm-cr excursions. Jack, however, had 110 : .mil idea of placid enjoyment, aud spc jmiy leaving mo to my aquatic reveries lie hired a Hangdog, looking scoundrel named Olior lo assist him in the management of ins canoe. 1 am no great tus. iple of Lavater, but 1 novui lined mat half brc 1. Ail these dregs of in man uooiicy are ..allow, blear eyed creatures, with a world of cuu liing, hut t*us fellow was cinef of them uli for every impulsive trait. Of course Jack ridiculed my sentiments about this new servitor; lie was a match lor a half a dozen, twenty fellows like Olier, he said; and ii was ail l aud I was not to homer u.y head about him. It was get ing lam in the fall; the In dian summer—mat bcniiiiful dream of loveliness—had restored to us in evanes cent beauty 1.10 glories of a Canadian autumn, 'ihe lortots were as guy with color as a heralu'a tabard, and the air was yet balmy with the lingering sweet ness of summer. One exquisite evening, boru of one of these lovely days, 1 was listlessly smoking as 1 lay on the top of the bluff, vacantly sketeiiiiighoiue land scapes in 'he dark Scugog rolling be neath. AO. oe shot around the bend of the river bmmv the village; it was pad dled by a so.miry figure, who turned out to bo Jack. I lrnew he had gone down the Scugog to fish along with Olier; but no half breed squatted in the oppo site end of the ca.ioe. A vague dread seized upon me as Jack, ruiming his lit tle hark skmr up the bank, shouldered his paddle and marched up to me. "Ilow now, Jack? What have you doue with your charming companion?" 1 inquired, disguising my conjectural fear. "Gadl 1 don't know," replied my brother, sitting down, oriental fashion, beside me. "Not know?" "Not a bit," was his answer. "How should 1 he acquainted with all the ins and outs of that Rosamond's bower?" Here he indicated as much forest with his aims as would have made a few t-iousands of the bower in question. "Oh, I perceive. He's gone tracking deer or something of that sort," said I, immensely relieved by Jack's manner. There was a slight pause. My fears re turned. I felt there was something wrong. " W ell," said Jack,"l'll tell you; I don't §uo why there need he any secret about it. You were quite right about that Offer—j*ou were, lie's a good for noth ing follow, and coolly refused this after noon to paddle me when 1 wanted to go down the river a bit farther than usual." "And you?" "1 ran the canoo upon a yard of hank —whether an island or not 1 cannot tell —gave the insolent rascal a good bas tinado with the paddle and set him aaliore." "Good heavens!" I exclaimed with horror; "don't you know, Jack—haven't you sense enough to understand—that these Indian fellows aro vindictive to the last degree—that they will never forget or forgive a blow?" "Pooh!" said lie, getting up quite mer rily and marching homeward, saying over his shoulder: "Oh, don't you bother yourself! Olier will be down 011 liis marrow bones tomorrow —see if he isn't. Besides, I owe him half a dollar." Tomorrow came, unfruitful with the half breed's submission. The story got abroad among the huts, and the old set tlers, who knew their man, shook their heads ominously and boded no good to my impulsive brother. However, two days passed harmlessly, during which Jack and I fished and shot together. Olier had not reappeared, and I began to breathe more freely. Doubtless he had left the district. He was an unset tled fellow at any rate, and had no prop erty or tie in the village to tempt his stay. Twenty miles below tho village the dark Scugog whitens into rapids, and is hurled with gigantic power over a lofty precipice. I had often wished to see the falls, but it had been hitherto impossible to accomplish the distance by my single arm. At last my wish was to be grati fied. A shooting party was made up by some of the villagers, and at my urgent request I was included. Tho arrange ment was to spend a night at the falls, camping out 011 the bank and return the following day. Instead of canoes, we were to sail down in a large flat bot tomed boat, termed in Canadian par lance a scow. Strange to say, Jack did not care about going, saying that he would enjoy himself more in his own canoe; and as we were already crowded for room we did not press him to change his resolution. Our expedition had little in it note worthy. The river for over twenty miles' sail remained the same monoto nous, melancholy Scugog, never vary ing for the space of a hand. Not a ves tige of clearance was there between our village and the falls, not a glimpse of bank. The trees lined tho waters like a wall, and save the wild gnme 110 one ever tried to force away through their close knit ranks, woofed at tho base by a tangle of unwholesome verdure. This aspect I had stern reason for remember ing. The only bright thing was the patch of cloudless blue sky seen at the extremity of this long reach of wood and water. Over all brooded the in tensest silence. No bird trilled us a single song; all was still, savo for the lugubrious woodpecker, which, perched 011 a rotting tree, hammered its hollow sides with its beak. Tap, tap, tap!—it was a most unearthly sound. Wo had seen the stupendous falls in their lonely majesty and were steering homeward in our scow. As we neared the village again, distant only some five or six miles, the sun was sinking behind tho tree horizon. A slight blue haze bathed the long reaches of the river with ineffable softness and beauty. Wo voyaged on a liquid field of clotli of gold. But ever and again, marring my intense perception of its loveliness, came the ghastly tap, tap, tap of the wood | pecker. 1 could not resist a chilly sensation of horror as I listened to the measured ca dence echoing through the solitude. It j sounded like a c ffin maker hammering at his dismal task. A relief suggested itself. Some of luy companions were French Canadians, and the evening be fore had cheered our bivouac with some gay refrains of sunny France. I asked them a stave, but I said nothing about the woodpecker, whoso note I wished them to drown. A strong chorus soon vanquished the bird of iil omen and rang up the vaulted river. I recollect the strain well; it was a favorite voy ageur's ditty. Rung to tho dasli of the oar. Suddenly the song lulled, and again I shuddered as I heard the reverberating tap, tap of the ominous bird aloft on a j spectral fir. My companions had ceased rowing, too, and called my attention to a canoe which was floating down the river a few yards ahead of us. They thought it was a breakloo e, and stood by to strike a boatliook into it, with the prospect of a reward from the owner up at the village. It soon dropped down to us, and came, like the note of the ghost ly woodpecker, tapping against our scow. There was a stifled cry of horror from 1 the settler at tho bow, and as we crowd ' ed forward to see what was the matter, another cried out the awful tale of blood, "Here, young fellow, see your brother —stalked by Olier, as euro's there's death in a rifle bullet!" It was an awful endl My poor brother lay bent over his idle paddle in tho canoe, weltering in his heart's blood. All avenging bullet had passed through his heart. Stalked by Olier! Fiendish Indian, that was thy work, and my brother's blood rested on thy head! I shall not now detail the agonies of that Indian summer. Through all my grief ran the thought of an exterminating ; vengeance. Vengeance?—nay, scant jus tice. I sought what lias been law since the world began—blood for blood. It was vain in those early times of a ju dicial system in Canada to seek for a rigorous p.. uit from the dispensers of legal justice. Tho criminal executive might be willing, but their arm was weak. Retribution, in the trackless wild of wood and water where I dwelt, could proceed only from my own steady pur pose and solitary endeavor. I could depend for but small aid on the settlers. Some of them, indeed, cursed the foul murder in no stinted speech, but others again imputed little ' crime to the blood stained redskin, and even went so far as to justify his sneak- Vig code of vengeance. Olier had left ' the district, but a certain instinct told j mo he would ere long come back again. Likely enough, he would suppose I I could not long remain in a place to which such hateful memories clung, and ; that lie might then safe ly venture back. I waited my time. Safe he was in tho tangled thicket, but to the end I knew | that 110 covert under heaven would pre | servo him harmless from my wrath. ; Winter set in, hard and white and ; ! cold. The river Scugog was a level j road of ice; the trees were choked up \ I with snow and on each side of the ice- 1 bound river the forests towered like 1 massive cliffs of chalky rock. No path I could now be forced into the recesses of : the forest below our village. Scarcely had winter settled down for his undis- ! t urbed reign when I heard whisperings that the villain half breed was again hovering 011 the outskirts of the settle i ment. It was told me that he was liv ing in a kind of wigwam above the vil lage, and also that he had more than once come to the very dwellings of the settlers by night, to visit his friends and obtain various articles for his camp. I knew it would bo vain to attempt to S track him to his wigwam or, at all ! events, to surprise him; his wood craft j was much too deep to admit of such a possibility. But a strange, wild joy trembled through my being when I ! heard he came by night to the village. A terrible scheme of vengeance swept across my soul, and I felt, 110 matter how fiendish the spirit, that the doom of the half bleed was fixed, and that I was to be his unrelenting executioner. Night after night I lay concealed at the bluff awaiting the murderer. I was armed with pistols and wore skates. Skating was an amusement which I had excelled in when a schoolboy, and facil ity in the ait was of the least importance to my scheme of retribution. At length 110 came. It was an exquisite night; the white expanse around sparkled in the j sheen of a young Canadian moon which sailed calmly through a cloudless sky. I could have shot the villain as he skated by me within fifty yards, but I would not risk the chance, and, besides, my vengeance cried for a sterner fate than death by the pistol. No sooner was he past my hiding place than, with a shout of exultation, I started on his track. Olier swerved a moment to see who his pursuer was, then quick as lightning tried to double up the river again. But I had antici pated this, and with a cocked pistol in each hand I barred his passage. With a curse he turned and sped swiftly down 1 the ice. And now the race for life began. Mile after mile wo swept along in silence. An awful, portentous silence it was, ! through which nothing broke save the hollow boom of the swift steel cutting its way over the imprisoned river. The moon lit me nobly to my vengeance. Ho could not escape me. for I found with savage glee that I was a match for the swift looted Indian. Olier soon be came aware of this, too, for now and again he would skate close to the woods, j looking in vain for an aperture. But no; there was but one outlet from this walled in river, and that was over the falls! Faster and faster yet wo skated to-1 ward the cataract. It could not be far off. I pictured to myself what Offer's thoughts might be. Did he know whither he was hastening, or had that awful: light yet to flash 011 his guilty mind? The half breed made answer to my thought. I saw him in the pale shim-; mer start convulsively and throw his arms in the air; but lie dared not stop, j and on he darted again with a yell of 1 despair which echoed weirdlike up the frozen channel. Another sound came to my ear, and I knew what had caused that cry of agony to burst from Offer; it was the dull thunder of the falls! We were nearing them fast. Still the walls of snow shut in my victim, and every moment less ened his frail hopes of escape. One chance was left him—to distance me and hide somewhere in the snow from my scrutiny. Vain hope; the wings of the bird could scarce have saved him! Hoarser and louder grew the noise of the waters. If I thanked the Almighty in frantic prayer that the murderer was delivered into my hand, I humbly trust that it is forgiven me now. From the time I had first started on Offer's track we had maintained exactly the same distance between us—perhaps about a hundred or a hundred and fifty yards. I still grasped my loaded pistols, ready for any stratagem on the part of the murderer. And now the crash of the falls came loud and ominous 011 the ear. Another five minutes would decide the hunt. Suddenly Olier turned and stood at bay. He was not armed; 1 bad felt certain of that all along, for otherwise ho would have measured strength with me before. Without bating my pace I skated down upon him, holding a leveled pistol in each. Still my purpose was as mixed as ever only to shoot the villain as a last resource. When I was within twenty yards of liim the coward faltered and again turned swiftly down the river. With a yelling laugh I pursued him, pressing still more hotly on his track. Deafening was the roar of the cata ract; high into the pale sky ascended the mist of its spray, through which the splintered lines of the moonlight darted in rainbow tinted beauty. I could see directly in front the jagged line of the ice where it was broken by the rapids immediately above the cataract, and be yond I could trace the dark volume of the Scugog as it emerged from its prison of snow and ice. For an instant the half breed turned his face toward me sis I pressed with concentrated bate on his footsteps. Never shall I forget the hor rible despair that distorted the villain's features. It was a mercy that the sul len roar of the falls drowned his curses —I knew he was shrieking curses on me —for they would have haunted me in after years. With the courage which is begotten of the darkest despair, 110 dashed 011 to the brink of the rapids, and the next mo ment 1 was alone on the ice! I gazed with stern joy 011 the dark flood which had seized in its resistless hands the ehedder of blood and was hurrying him over the falls. For a moment I thought I could perceive the murderer st ruggling in the eddies, but the illusion, if it was one, could live only for an instant. The cataract was within pistol shot, and as I turned back over the dreary wilder ness of ice and snow, I knew that the doom of the guilty skater had been ful filled.—True Flag. STIE IMITATES BIRDS. A YOUNG WOMAN WHO SiNGS LIKE : NATURE'S SONGSTERS. She Citii Transport You Into tJ n Depths ! of Cool, (a'rcn Wood* She ? iinics Any j ISil'd from the Duck to the Meadow ! Lark, or the Nightingale and Thrush, j It is straight from t! ■ throat ihat Mis. i Mabel Stephenson his lot sn that won derful flood of rippling. I wittering bin". : melody. It is really very rem rkabh* what thi. modest and gentle laced young gir does. She is such av< ry quiet and un obtrusive young per mh at lirst sigh, that the surprise when she giver, you the j first intimation of h<r gilis is all the j greater. When in her very artless way she he- ! gins her little recitation about birds, I and then suddenly Ln ~1:s into it, and : from that moment gnis weaving and winding all through it. that marvelous j linked chain of all tli • liquid bird mel ody of an entire forest and meadow bird orchestra, the efleet is quite startling. Shut your eyes, and you are no longer in the frowzy atmo. j here of a theater. | It is an early morning in .lime, and you ! are out in the woods s< m. \ R<to. There i are no electric lights and gas jets. It is j blazing summer sunlight. It is the odor j of the forest, not of tho foot lights, that conies to you. Certainly it is a very as- j tonisliing thing to be done just by the loosening and contracting of vocal chords, with the valuable aid of bron chial tubes and a thorax. A REMARKABLE GIFT. Miss Stephenson says, and after hear- I higher you are quite prepared to believe ; it, that she can imitate any bird that wears wings and feathers, and as wings and feathers ure part of the anatomical equipment of all. birds, it amounts to j saying that she run imitate them all. She can give the judicious and nonfriv olous "quack, quack" of the conservative < and serious minded duck as accurately j as she can imitate the giddy, soaring song of the vanishing skylark. It was a 1 very early acquisition with her. She [ took to talking bird lingo almost as soon as she took to talking the sound com mercial English of Michigan, where she j was horn. She is a true American girl. Miss j Stephenson, and she has mingled in the 1 veiy best American bird society. Her j repertoire is almost exclusively that of our own sweet singing American birds. She wis in England recently, and picked j up the songs of the thrush, nightingale j and skylark just to show these stars of English bird opera that their songs were easy enough, and that anybody who had , had a course in an American bird music i conservatory could do them. But it is the wliippoorwill, the yellow breast, j the chicadee, the the catbird, , the meadow lark, the swanow, the bobo- ! link and, of course, the robin with the I red waistcoat —these are the birds, good Americans all, whose songs she loves best to sing. Then she can give to perfection the weird, melancholy cry of the loon and j can pipe so like the quail that you have | only to shut your eyes and fancy that j you are out in the brown stubble of the fields. Neither the domestic goose nor I the grave and reverend owl can he classed exactly among the merry war-1 bling songsters of the leathered kind, 1 but they each have a met in d of express- i ing disapproval. nOW SHE LEARNED. It was simply for her own amusement ! that she first developed her remarkable gifts of imitation, until now she has found that she can turn it to a source of profit, and this she is doing. Her bird language education was only just begun in the country out in Miclil- 1 gan. When she was a very little girl ; she came to New York t< • live, and since then she has had to depend upon bird i stores and upon such birds as she and her friends possess for her tuition. Now, to come back to the physiologi cal feature of the matter, there are a good many people who will toll you just exactly how Miss Stephenson does these wonderful imitations. It is nothing | more than whistling pure and simple, many of them will say. The very keen and knowing ones sneer even at whis tling. Nobody could whistle in that way, they say, with just the whistling apparatus furnished by nature. Miss Stephenson, they will tell you, has some ingenious little mechanical device for making the sounds, which she conceals in her mouth. All this makes the gifted bird soloist laugh. She could not whistle a note if she tried, she says, and as for carrying something in her mouth you have only to watch her as she gives imitations to be convinced that this is all rubbish. She simply has a marvelous development of the vocal chords, which has been de veloped by years of practice that began i when she was a mere child and when the throat muscles and vocal chords ' were pliant and flexible. The sounds come straight from the throat, as was remarked at the beginning of this ar ticle, and as you can see very plainly yourself if yon are near by when the imitations are given. You will then very distinctly observe the throat flutter, as does that of a canary when he is soar j ing up in the high notes of some of his | dizziest trills. j Speaking of trills, Miss Stephenson ' says these, curiously enough, are the | easiest and least tiresome of the bird i songs to imitate. It is the short, sharp j twitters and the long, wailing cries [ which are the most trying.—New York World, To Ward OIT Disease. j We can all recall some kindly grand- J mother of old times, who, as she lie* I her gold beads around the neck of a grandchild, who like l.< ah was "tender eyed," half apologetically explained the exceptional favor, "The heads, you know, will be good for Helen's eyes." A dignified gentleman, i man distin guished in great pub c matt'is, only a few days ago twirVd an iron ring around his linger, aml in explanation said, "That's for rheuuißU.suii" —Now York Tribune, Women Are Not Inconstant. The authors of the past seem to have thought that they couhl not make a talo in verse or prose romantic or interesting unless they should introduce inconstant heroines to their readers, and for this ; purpose they were ready to defame the ; whole sex, at least by implication. Wo man is constant on instinct, 011 principle, by enlightened policy, by mere self in terest. Her inward prompting and out ward advantage conspire to the same end. She is doubly guarded. Man is differently constituted. Principle alone must, as a rule, hold him steady, and comparatively few of his sex, it must be admitted, act on principle in this regard. Woman is monogamous; man and in j fact male animals generally are polyg-1 anions. Monogamy is but another name for constancy, as polygamy is for incon- , stancy. Whatever man may assume, he does i not believe that women, generally, are | unstable. His attitude and entire con duct toward them demonstrate this. If j such was his conviction, he would not | marry; he would not jeopardize his honor, bis peace of mind, his precious self love. Marriage would, in time, cease to be a custom; for marriage, so- ! eiety, civilization, depend absolutely on | woman's fidelity to the matrimonial i bond, not as a theory alone, but as a ! sacred truth. Man thinks, with reason, that some, perhaps many, women are I disloyal. But it always seems to sur prise him; it is different from his expec-1 tation, otherwise he would not raise such a clamor about it. The incon stancy of women generally is a con- | scions and shallow pretext, more so to day than ever. Nature, society, science, law, men, all demand the exact con trary, and their demand is fully met.— Junius Henri Browne in Ladies' Home Journal. ImlluiiH Going to Market. A remarkable sight is a band of Cana dian Indians going to a post with furs for barter. Though the bulk of these j hunters fetch their quarry in the spring and early summer, some may come at any time. The procession may be only that of a family or of the two or more families that live together or as neigh- 1 bors. The man, if there is but one group, is certain to be stalking ahead, i carrying nothing but his gun. Then como the women, laden like packhorses. They may have a sled packed with the furs and drawn by a dog or two, and an extra dog may bear a balanced load on his back, bnt the squaw is certain to have a spine warping burden of meat and a battered kettle and a pajfi>o.se, and whatever personal property of any and every sort she and her liege lord own. : Children who can walk have to do so, but it sometimes happens that a baby a 1 year and a half or two years old is on lier back, while a newborn infant, swad dled in blanket stuff and bagged and ' tied like a Bologna sansage, surmounts the load on the sled. A more tatterdemalion outfit than a hand of these pauperized savages form it would he difficult to imagine. On the j plains they will havo horses dragging travoises, dogs with travoises, women and children loaded with impedimenta, a colt or two running loose, the lordly j I men riding free, straggling curs a-plenty,. babies in arms, babies swaddled, and toddlers afoot, and the whole battalion presenting at its exposed points exhibits of torn blankets, raw meat, distorted pots and pans, tent, poles and rusty traps, in all eloquently suggestive of an eviction in tho slums of a great city.— Julian Ralph in Harper's. The Steamship of the Future. ' As to the size of the steamship of the future, financial considerations must de-; termino it. Any addition to size meant greater displacement and greater powei to get a high rate of speed. A small craft, similar perhaps to a torpedo boat of the Tliornycroft or Yarrow build, would give results satisfactory at least on the debit side of the lodger. But what of the credit side, which, after all, is the more important in a merchant ship ol tho Atlantic greyhound type? In the case of British ships there are only two sources of revenue—from pas sengers and for the transport of cargc and mails. In a vessel of tho torpedo 1 type there is not room for either. So also with high speed cruisers, where a i very large proportion of tho length, in some cases 40 per cent., is given up foi machinery. Indeed, only in exceptional cases could a cruiser carry fuel to cross tho Atlantic at full speed, and certainly no torpedo boat would essay to do so. In the modern high speed passengei i steamer the cargo capacity of the vessel is limited, and so valuable that only a ! precious cargo is carried, and that at a pretty high rate. The cause of the lim itation is the weight of machinery and the coal for consumption and the neces sity for minimizing the displacement. As to speed, there is really no insur mountable difficulty in attaining forty knots, but this would require sometliing like 100,000 indicated horse power, sev enty boilers to generate the steam for : the engines, and these would burn con siderably more than 2,000 tons of coal per day.—Engineering. Philology and Grammar. There is a notion abroad that philology is superior to grammar; that it is in a commanding position over grammar, ! and that it has a natural right to super : viso tho anangements and terminology of grammar. The consequence has been that of late years almost every author who has come forward as a grammarian has done so, more or less, in the guise of a philologist, as if this character in vested him with higher authority, and gave him power to innovate upon the j time honored institutes of grammar. j By this avenue some confused and hy - : | brid doctrines have found their way into current schoolbooks. Professor | John Earle in Forum. No Danger of Shuck. An insulated holder for fire hose has : been invented to obviate auy danger that luight arise to firemen in case a stream t f water struck a heavily charged wire, i —New York Journal. What is Castoria is Dr. Samuel Pitcher's prescription tor Infants and Children. It contains neither Opium, Morphine nor other Narcotic substance. It is a harmless substitute for Paregoric, Drops, Soothing Syrups, and Castor Oil, It is Pleasant. Its guarantee is thirty years' uso by Millions of Mothers. Castoria destroys Worms and allays fcvcrisliiiess. Castoria prevents vomiting Sour Curd, cures Diarrhoea and Wind Colic. Castoria relieves teething troubles, cures constipation and flatulency. Castoria assimilates the food, regulates the stomach and bowels, giving healthy and natural sleep. i toria is the Children's Panacea—the Mother's Friend. Castoria. "Castoria Is an excellent medieino for chil dren. Mothers have repeatedly told me of its good effect upon their children." Du. G. C. OSGOOD, Lowell, Mass. ° Castoria Is the be>t remedy for children of which lam ac quainted. I h<pe the day is lot far distant when mothers will consider the real interest of their children, nu I use Castoria in stead of the variousquack nostrums which are destroying their loved oues, by forcing opium, morphine, soothing syrup and other hurtful agents down their throats, thereby sending them to premature graves." DU. J. F. KINCHELOE, Conway, Ark. Tho Centaur Company, TI Murray Street, New York City, BOOTS A NT SIIOF-S. A Large Stock of Boots, Shoes, Gaiters, Slippers, Etc. Also HATS. CAPS and GENTS' FURNISHING GOODS of All Kinds. A Special Line Suitable for This Season. GOOD MATERIAL! LOW PRIG ! UTTCm 3VE ALLOY, Corner Goitre .ml Walnut Sts.. HYe laud. >.'K, , I:) < \i: -J O. T.. .. i ; .ST 3 And . nwri. stent. For ii .. 1 Oo.nestic. igiii.s Ki V t on 1 laud. i or ,; :\u]p|/ U, !,O;iL . J lUU, SOl'Til IIEBEIITON PETER rii BOT'I'LKB. !| \ nil Dea hi in II kin.- ~i Liquors. Hi < i and I 'in I,• r, Temperance I)rinks, Etc.. Etc. Geo. Ringer A Co.'s I Celebrated LAGER I'.EER pin ill Patent Sealed Pottles hem on the promises. Goods de livered in any quantity, and to any part of the country. FREELAND BOTTLING WORKS. Cor. Centre ami Carbon Sts., Frei land. (Near Lehltfh Vnlley OcyotO EMEEAL STORE. MiltTll HKUKUTON, PA i '.nth'r.g. Groceries. Etc.. Etc. \ irent for the sale of PASSAGE TICKETS i..in ;d! the pritiripiil points in Europe . all points in the I ni'.ed States. \gent fo! the transmission of ■; MONEY j till parts of Kr.Mpe. ( hecks. Draft . I od Letters of Exchange on Foreign Banks caaf oil at reasonable rat^B. Castoria. " Castoria is so well adopted to children that I recommend it as superior to any prescription kuown to me." 11. A. AncHßrt, SI. D., 11l So. Oxford St., Brooklyn, N. Y. " Our physicians in the children's depart ment have spoken highly of their experi ence in their outside practice with Castoria, and although we only have among our medical supplies what is knowu as regular products, yet we are free to confess that the merits of Castoria has won us to look with favor upon it." UNITED HOSPITAL AND DISPENSARY, Boston, Mass. ALLEN C. SMITH, Pres., f. M. G ERiTZ, . , i.i ip \ .tiid Amerleti, oppnsile t . . . ii-st•*••. I-'iecliii-d 'I he . .. C.ccl.s and Jtv;c ry. Willi lies, Clocks and \ in I,mid for the Holi. iou . ,-t cash price in i .11 \\ (i i v repai red in < All Watch Re . , hi . iiunteed for one lit Itiiy Clocks from $3.00 oo; New Watches from .... up. E. M. GERITZ, i rinii Hotel, ('mitre St., Fr 'land, (in TO ,'iV Pros. Li""i'y Sirbia I r- A. "".k FOU i R ,T-01 TURNOUTS .U -I. II Xt.iir.-. OIL Weddings, p,irrie> and I . i -t irei. two squares . I i. i.llid upi ru lluuee. C. D. ROHRBACH, header in hardwa-e Paints, Varnish, Oil. Wall I'aper, Mining 'I o C and mining Sup plies of all kinds, i.anip , Glohes, Tinware, Etc. Having purchased the stock in J. Kckert and added a d< ' , amount to the p sent sio. k 1 am prepared to 11 prices that defy compe tition. Han't forget to try my special l.laud of MLVLNG OIL. C.litre Street. Freelani Pa. H. M. BRISLIN, iJM)K li TAKER AND EhIBALMER.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers