THE HADJI'S REST. The hadji said, "If o'er my tomb Should grasses wave and roses bloom. Ami if with tears the Rpot should be Sometimes bedewed for love of me. My rest would be a blissful rest. And I would count the hadji blest." No roses deck the liadji's grave— He sleeps beside a foreign wave— And never woman's eye grows dim In that strange land in thought of him; And yet no doubt the hodji's rest Is quite as sweet as if his breast Were by a million roses pressod And woman made his grave her quest. —II. L. Spencer. "UNC' P'TROOSHO." "Wha' fo' dey calls me Petah P'troo sho? Ain' yo' nebah year dat? "Marse Gawge gub mo dat name, down in Faginny, endu'in wah time. Marse Gawgo gre't man ter gib we all noo names. I had mo'n 'leben, I guess, on'y P'troosho de on'y one 'sides Petah dat stick ter me. W'en Miss Alice gub me suit er Marse Gawge's clo'es, wid red necktie an plug hat, Marse Gawge he laff an say he gotter call me Boobrum mT, and so ho do fo' long time eb'ry day I dress up. Den, one time w'en I gwine to mill, do ol hosses dey git scart an run plumb ter mill an back ergin; an atter dat, eb'ry time Marse Gawge see me wid de bay team, he hollah, 'Hullo, Gilp4ngl' "Nodah timo, w'en I bin fussin aroun in de garrit, I foun er ol muff, wha' ol miss done frow erway, an ax Miss Alice kin I hah'm, case it jes' de ting w'en I hatter go set b' Pomp, do dribah, on col days w'en Marse Gawge an Miss Alice go dribin. Miss Alice she say I kin, so nex' col day, w'en dey hatter go ter Marse Willie's, I war de muff. 'N Marse Gawge, he seen 'in, an say: 'Hul lo, Rußhinbow! W'en you come fm France?' "But w'y he call me 'P'troosho?' I dunno, 'zackly, but Marse Gawge do. He k m ter me one day, an say, 'Petah, whuffer yo' don' git merricd ergin?' Marse Gawge alius sayin tings right plumb out ter we all, jes' lak dat. "An I say: 'Marse Gawge, I ain' speakin no names, but does yo' 'meni bah er suttin pusson dat am now gone erway fm disher wale of teahs, an whatter mis'able tempah dat pusson had? An do vo' 'membali dat w'en dat suttin pusson was libin, folkses dat libed wid her gotter stan roun? No, sah, I doesn't caffer any mo', tank yo', Marse Gawge. 'Sides, I'ze ergettin too ol' fo' sich non sensical tings.' "Marse Gawge ho laff. 'W'y Petah,' he say, 'yo' is on'y 'bout fifty. Yo' young man yit. Now, me 'n Miss Alice bin tinkin dat 'twould be nico ting ef Cl'rindy 'n you'all 'd git married. 'Twould sorter mek it mo' c'nveeniunt, an all dat.' "I dunno whatter say ter dat. Dat Cl'rindy was lady lookin an right smaht, but she got jes' sich a tempah as I done had 'speriunce wid. So I look't Marse Gawge an Ray: 'Mh! Golly, chile, dat niggah wuss'n de odah one I done men sliun. How yo' spose I kin stan dat'f "Maree Gawge he stop 'ii tink fer w'ile. Den he say: 'Petah, l'ze 'feared yo' done let yerse'f bo hainpeck'. Lernme tell yo', Petah, dat de on'y way ter be boss am ter 'sert yo'se'f an don' let no woman mek yer stan roun lak Aunt Debby done. Dey was er man oncet whar name WJIS P'troosho, an he right smaht man. Well, dey merry him ter gal wha' got mo' tempah 'll er settin hen. My, she war tur'ble! So P'troosho, w'en he git all hitch, 'gin ter train dat 'oman. " 'Ef she git mad he git mad, too, 'r 'tend dat he is, an 110 jes' raise de ol Nick wuss'n her. Ef she say it col day, he say she lie, dat de day am mis'iibly wahm. Gf he don' lak he dinner he tek 'n frow it 011 de floh an bre'k de dishes. He hol lah at dat 'oman an boas 'er roun an Imllyrag twell dat 'oman don' know 'er name. By 'm' by sho git so dat w'en P'troosho tell 'er in broad daylight dat de sun am de moon she b'liebe 'iin, an willin ter sw'ar ter it. Ef he call 'Kate!' she nios' bre'k 'er naik comin ter see whuffor he Call. " 'Now, Petah, dat's de way ter do ef er fool 'oman ac' lak dat. In dat way yo' kin bre'k 'em ob deir tricks in 'bout two days.' "I t'ought erwhile an mek up my min dat war gre't scheme, so I say ter Marse Gawge, 'Marse Gawge, ef yo' 'n Miss Alice sesso, I do dat an see how yo' plan wuk.' "So w'en Chris'mus kim, me 'n GTrin dy stan up in de pollah ob de big house, an de w'ite paslion merry us, same lak he done Marse W illie an Miss Blanche, an atter dat we all liab big time in de hall twell mos' mawnin." "I had er house back b' de cookhouse, whar me 'll Debby done lib fer mo'n twenty year, an me 'n CT'rindy we mobed in dar. Marso Gawge done gub us new cheers an table an stobe, an Miss Alice she let us hab new cyarpet, wlia' she don' want in up staihs hall 110 mo'; so we all was fixed up right smaht. "Cl'rindy war jes' sweet's p'simmons fo' mo'n er week. Den one day she git outer do baid wrong way, an w'en I look 't her I know dat 'omen is mad. I di'n' lak dat, ca'se I hab my min all mek up dat w'en sho 'gind at mad b'sniss she got ter hab less'n, an I don' lak ter gub it ter her. But I don' say nufiln, on'y mek up my min ter let 'er go twell she git lassy, den slick 'er off'n dat high lioss. "W'en we waitin on table at dinnah, Marse Gawge ho kin see dat Cl'rindy am hot, an 110 wink at me, lak dis. Atter f inner, w'en he cotch me erlono, he say, 'Wei P'troosho, is yo' git de shoe lamed?' Den 110 laff. "I say, 'What shoe does yo' mean, sah? I don't know nuffin 'bout no shoe.' "Den Marso Gawge laff some mo', an say, 'I di'n' soy no shoe, Petah. I mean, is yo' had ter 'gin CTrindy's less'ns yit? I kin see she mad wid somet'ing.' "I tell 'im I ain' stulit trainin yit, hut it look lak I hah ter right quick. " 'Petah,' Marse Gawge Ray reel sol ium, 'don' was'e no time in disher 'ffaih. Do moment de trubble stahta in yo* itttht in too.' An I say I will. But dey ain' no row dat day. "Nex' dpy war Sund'y, an I di'n'hatter git up eahly, so I lay een de baid twell mos' liaf pas' J. Den I git up an gin ter tog out. Cl'rindy was settin lookin outer de doah, lookin mad. Pret' soon I say, 'Cl'rindy, whar mah bes' Sunday shuht wid ruffles 011?' Cl'rindy ans' back, reel shoht, she ain' see 110 sicli shuht. " 'Yo' ain'?' 1 say. 4 'Oman, di'n' I say ter yo' dat I wan' dat shuht ter w'ar on Sund'y, an di'll' yo' say yo' ten ter it? Tell me dat, will yo'?' "But she ain' say nufiln 'tall. She jes' set an star' outen de doah, jes' lak I ain' dar. "Den I say, 'Look yore, yo' yaller numskull, ef yo' don' tulin roun yere an ans' me quick, I tek'n' shek yo' twell dem ol teef rattle outen yo' liaid!' "Den she jump up quick, an kim at me. 'Wha' dat yo' say, yo brack nig gah? Wha' dat? Talk ter me 'bout shekkin folk, will yo'?' "Mistali, is you ebah see er reel mad 'oman? I' gin ter git scar't, dat Cl'rindy look so mad, an w'en she git so close ter me I put out mah han ter push 'er 'way f'm me. "Dat 'oman reach out and grab me wid bofe ban's by de naik, an ef sho di'n' shek me twell mos' all my teef drap out, I hojie tor die. Den she hit me slambang wid her fis' er couplo times, an biff me all ober do house, an lam me jes' tur'ble. Ki! but dat 'oman war pow'ful strong! "W'en she git froo she say, 'Look yere, ol man, I hatter stan 'buse fm Tawm, but I ain' gotter stan none f'm you. Don' yo' disr'membah dat, nig gah.' An sho look lak 'er mad all ober wid, but I ain' wai' ter find out. I jes' git outen de house an inter de yahd. "Marse Gawge kim round inter de back yahd jes' den. 'Hullo, P'troosho,' 110 say, 'is yo' bin tamin dat shoe! Yo' look lak you' bin fightin win'mills.' "•Marse Gawge,' I say, 'I ain' bin fightin wid no win'mills, an I ain' bin doin nuflin wid no shoes. I jes' hatter gib dat yaller niggah wench er less'n, an she ain' tek ter it, nohow. Dat P'troosho way mout wu'k wid w'ite folks, but w'en er fool niggah try'm on 'nodidi fool niggah de debbil am ter pay.' "Marse Gawge mos' die f'm laflin. Den he say, 'No, Petah, yo' don' look lak yo' made er gre't s'ccess ob it.' "An atter dat he alius call me 'Petah P'troosho.'"—R. L. Ketcham in Ro mance. A Vulnable Autograph. An autograph fiend from New York was recently visiting a friend in Detroit, and naturally 110 brought his album along, and he also talked much 011 auto graphs, their rarity, value, etc. "Well," said the Detroit man one day, after a list of high priced autographs had been shown him, "your figures are not in it with one I saw here some years ago." "Whose was it?" asked the friend with much interest. "A gentleman's, living hero at the time, but now dead." "What did it bring?" "Two hundred and fifty thousand dol lars," "Aw, come off. I know autographs, and I know one never sold for such sum." "Just the same I tell you this one did." "Who paid for it?" "One of the banks in the city. It was on a check, and the same autograph would have brought a million, net, if the gentleman had happened to want that much for it." After that the fiend put liis album in his trunk and left it there.—Detroit Free Press. Two Ilcniurkable Epitaphs. The two most remarkable epitaplia in the United States are those of Daniel Barrow, formerly of Sacramento, and that of Hank Monk, Horace Greeley's stage driver. The former reads as fol lows: "Here is laid Daniel Barrow, who was horn in Sorrow and Borrowed little from nafcure except his name, and his love to mankind, and his hatred for red skins. Who was nevertheless a gentle man and a dead shot, who through a long life never killed his man except in Belf defense or by accident, and who, when he at last went under beneath the bullets of his cowardly enemies in Jeff Morris' salo a, did so in the sure and certain hope of a glorious and everlast ing morrow." Hank Monk's epitaph reads thus: "Sa cred to the memory of Hank Monk, the whitest, biggest hearted and best known stage driver of the west, who was kind to all and thought ill of none. He lived in a strange era and was a hero, and the wheels of his coach are now ringing on the golden streets."—St. Louis Republic. Temperature for Grow lug Musliruums. The mushroom in American pastures seldom starts into growth before the end of August or September, when the tem perature of the soil has reached about 00 degs.; hence this is taken as the temper ature which the cultivator of the mush room ought to endeavor to maintain in order to successfully grow this vegeta ble. A very experienced cultivator, how ever, states that he has found this tem perature to be rather too high in growing the mushroom in houses prepared for the purpose. He finds that he has much bet ter success with an even temperature of 55 than 00 degs.—Meehan's Monthly. C'urt Instructions. The following is an admirable speci men of Lord Palmerston's curt way of transacting official business—they are in- 1 structions given to a foreign office clerk for answering a letter, "Tell him we'll Bee; to use blacker ink; to round his i letters, and that there's no hin exorbi- 1 tant."—London Tit-Bits. The Value of Frankness. Miss Plantagenet De Vere—That man's i attentions to me are most offensive, and he has the reputation of being a fortune ' hunter. Do you suppose it is papa's wealth that allures liim? Her Close Friend (thoughtfully)— Why, what else can it he?— Exchange. Cotton Mather's Works. Dr. Cotton Mather, who died in Bos ton in 1728, was the author of 882 works, some of them being of huge dimensions. The most bulky of his works contained seven large folio volumes. He died at the age of sixty-five.—Harper's Young . People. 1 GEMS IN VERSE. | The Valley of Gettysburg. One dusk, long summers gone, tho white cheeked moon Beheld this valley reel with war. But now Where yon at ill hamlet's windows redly glow At evo the housewives gossip <>r else croon Boft lullabies. Through lite long afternoon Tho children gambol in tho vale below; The lustrous lilies ut their moorings blow; The mowers move with scythes in merry tune; I Chime faintly far from out the white church spire Thos° evening bells; slow move tho creaking wains I Down purploglens ablaze with sunset fire, ! And low necked kiue trudge homo through thick leafed lanes. I Sweet vale, the only sword now there that's Is tho moon's scimiter In skies serene. —James S. Sullivan. Forever. Two little Bt ream lets leaped and flowed And sang their songs together; They felt alike the summer rays And bore tho stormy weather: The self same blossoms decked them both In colors rich and rare, And in each stream the song birds wooed Their bright reflections there. And on and on and on they danced. Each leaping toward the river. And then they met to kiss and part Forever unci forever. Two human lives, two kindred hearts. By destiny's decree. Met in tho spring of life to learn Its deepest mystery. They dreamed their morning dreams of hope Through fair, unclouded weather; They opened love's bewitching book And read it through together; They saw in one another's eyes A deep, unspoken bliss. And from each other's lips they took Love's ever ready kiss. And then the fate that crushes all Tho sweetest pleasures here Turned hope's glad music to a sigh, Its glory to a tear. It stepped between them. Ah, it mocked The love it could not kill! It bade them in Its fury live And love and suffer still. They tried with outstretched hands to span Fate's wide, unyielding "Never." Tho volco of destiny replied, "Forever aud forever!" —Chambers' Journal. All Saints. Men may not mark them in the crowded ways. Tho noisy world forgets to blame or praise The poor in spirit, yet they pass along Through sileut paths and make them glad with song; Theirs is the kiudgdom where Love reigns su premo And Fuith soars higher than the poet's dreuin. Wrapped in the sunlight of eternal day, Blessed are t hey. God knows the patient souls who do his will; The mourners who can suffer and be still. Waiting in silence for his healing balm; The meek, whose hands shall clasp the victor's palm; The hungry ones, whom he alone can feed; The merciful; the pure in heart aud deed; The peacemakers—of these I hear him say. Blessed are they. Father, we pray thee that thy light may shine Upon the world through every child of thine! luto tho haunts of darkness and distress They come with all the power of blessedness. When thou bust called them to thy purer sphere The fragrance of their lives shall linger here, Aud through death's silence we shall hear thee say, Blessed are they. —Sarah Doudncy. Finished. Ask me not why I strive and strive in vain To wake again tho thrills of dead romance; To feci once more the pleasure or tho pain; To wake my heart from out its deathlike trance. I only know my love lies cob! and still; No more it stirs at smile or tender tone. I loved you once, but coldness love can kill- Then blaiue me not that now you walk alone. You swore you loved me in tho days now dead, Aud on that oath I gave you all you claimed. Then for love you gave neglect instead; So all my heart shrunk back to me, ashamed That for a stone its Jewel had been given. Then what seemed love to passing fancy fell. And when I thought you ope'U the gates of heuvcu You only paved the downward path to hell. Now go your way. Henceforth I cease to be The loving woman whom you difl not love. The future's gulf lies broad 'twixt you and mo. You pass from out my life. Have mercy, God above I —Jessie Lee Aaudulph. A Ilero. Ho is a hero who when sorely tried Hath yet a Arm control O'er all his passions as they strongly rise To battle with his soul. The silent battle which the spirit flghts, Warring aguinst desires Unholy and impure, if right shall win To higher good inspires. The soul that crucifies an evil thought. That keeps a guarded gate Of Christian love aud brotherly good will Between his soul and hate. Shall stand, in all his manliness and worth, As mightier than he Who takes a city in his strength and pride Or boastcth vuuntiugly. The shield of purity when nobly worn. Where faith has been confessed, Is stronger than the cunning coat of mail Upon a warrior's breast. Ho is a hero who to truth is true, Though lowly and obscure. Long after earthly honors fade away liis triumphs shall endure. —Annie Wall. The Man Wlio Always Smiles. His house may not a mansion be; his placo iu side tho line Where common people stand and note their richer neighbor's shine; But yet his life's a grander oue, though lacking much of style. His title Is tho Prince of llopo—the man who always Hmiles. Though ho never limned a landscape he's an artist in his way; He's a picture fair of joyousuesa In a frame that's always gay; His life's a useful sermon, aud he's preaching all the while, And he's better off than governors—the man who always smiles. He's one of life's physicians without antidotes or pills; His cures are freely given to all men's current ills; He's a missionary worker, leaving out the heathen isles. And he's aiming straight for heaven—the man who always smiles. Retribution* Ah, who can tell the Joy I feel To see him pass, tho jest of all the crowd That throng the asphalt pave? His brow is dark with gloom, For vain Is his attempt to look unconcerned Despite his feeble, sickly grins. This man who, when an ofllce interview we Keeps us four hours his pleasure waiting in an anteroom- Mighty is ho at morn: ateveanursegirl turned. Wheeling a baby carriage and red faced squall- , imr twins. -A Reporter. 1 I PAYING A DEBT OF KINDNESS. An liitlian Hri'Vf Wlio Never Forgot the Mercy Shown II in Hand. About tho iiii<li lc* of this century there was a terrible uprising among the Yuca tan Indians. For a time they were able to wreak vengeance on their white con juerora, ami their ferocity and cruelty were horrible. Even so dark a page of history as this, however, is not without Its story of kindness and mercy between enemies. The town of Puto was so Hit rated in the Indian territory that it was taken by the Indians and recaptured by the whites many times. Once, when it was in the hands of its rightful owners, a number of ludiun prisoners were held. Less cruel than tho savages, tho whites killed only in battle; they allowed their prisoners to live. But provisions became more and more scarce, and the Indians were left to die of hunger. One day Don Marcos Duarte, a wealthy inhabitant of the town, was passing the house where the Indians were and stopped, shocked at the sight of a miserable, emaciated creature. "What are you doing?" ho asked. "I am eating my shoes, as you see," was the reply. "I am starving to death. For twelve days wo have had almost no food. Most of my companions are dead and the days of the rest are numbered." Don Marcos looked at the miserable survivors and said, "You and they shall live." and he sent them food every day and finally procured their freedom. Whatever were the rights of the ques tion between Indians and whites in this case, human pity spoke first in his heart. Some time later Peto was captured by the Indians, and the inhabitants were massacred. Don Marcos, with his wife and children, awaited death on their knees in prayer. They heard a party of savages approaching tho house, and Mt that the end had come. Tho head of tho band, however, sta tioned sentinels around the house and gave this order, "Not a hair of the head of this manor his family is to he touched, on pain of death." The family of Duarte was the only one that was spared. The Indian who had inspired the pity of Don Marcos was paying his debt. Twenty years afterward in a success ful uprising the Indians sacked a num ber of villages and country houses. Tlicy retreated loaded with spoil and drag ging w.th them many household serv ants, of whom they intended to make slaves. The chief of the expedition asked one of them what was the name of his master. "Don Marcos Duarte," he replied. The chief immediately called a halt 'How many men belong to Don Mar cos?" he asked. "Twenty-four." replied the man to whom ho had spoken. "Name them," said the chief. Having collected the twenty-fonr men, he returned to them tho spoil which had come from the Duarte house and said, "(io home, friends; you are free." It was the Indian once more paying his debt.—Youth's Companion. Wly Slie UcKdn tho Last Chapter First. "Of course I always read the last chap ter of a novel first," admitted a young woman, "and I think it a very sensible plan. But I read such books iu two different ways. I confess I read some trash. When I get a novel that I con aider in this class I read the hist chapter first. Then I read the next to the last chapter, and no on until I finish the first chapter. I find that tho only way in j which to enjoy such books. If 1 read it straight through from the beginning 1 would never be in doubt as to the end ing. I have read so much of this light literature that I can always tell pretty well on reading the first chapter or two what the outcome of it will he. "Ou the other hand, if I begin at the end my curiosity is aroused to a lively pitch. Here I have the unraveling of misunderstandings and the restoration to happiness of all the worthy people in tho hook. But 1 cannot tell how the doubts and differences came about. One can anticipate tho close of such a novel , near its beginning, hut not its beginning near its close. So I read tho chapters in reversed order with continued pleasure." —New York Tribune. Onlf a Score of White RhlnoceroscM. | From a letter addressed to that re j uowncd sportsman, Mr. Selous, it ap | pears that that curious and rare animal, ; tho white rhinoceros, has not yet gone i tho way of the dodo and the great bus | tard, though some have ventured togivo i Mr. Selous' authority for saying that ho I is extinct. It is to tho occupation of northern Mashonaland, which has kept the native hunters to tho west of the Umniati river, that this gentleman at tributes the fact that in this part a few specimens still survive tho constant per secution which in less than twenty yiytrs has utterly exterminated them in every other portion of south central Africa. , "There may yet," Mr. Selous adds, "ho j ten or even twenty of these animals left, hut certainly not more, I think, than tho \ latter number."—London News. Where Crocodiles Are Found. | Crocodiles are found in Africa, Asia, the tropical parts of Australia, Central America and the West Indies, while the alligators, with the exception of one spc ! cies discovered some few years sinco in China, are found only in America. They are all of them terribly destructive crea- j tures. The young feed principally 011 fish, but as they grow larger they attack ' every animal that they can overcome, dragging their prey into the water and so drowning it. It has been said that more people are killed by crocodiles than by any other of tho wild beasts of Africa, ; —London Saturday Review. Worms That Are Good to Kat. The earthworms of Cape Colony, South Africa, specimens of which may he seen in any well regulated American ' | college museum, have a maximum ! length of il feet li inches and are thick j accordingly. When Mr. Meer and the other Dutch explorers first visited tho Good Hojie regions these slimy creatures j were a regular article of diet.—St. Louis Republic. 1 A FORTUNATE THEFT. A PATHETIC COURTROOM SCENE IN THE METROPOLIS. Mother. Sou, Daughter atul Grandchild Make Up a Heartrending Sight—A liec ognitinn That Brought Up Many Slid Keeolleetionii—A llrother'n Love. It was a veritable athlete of a baby. He hail a carfal for ail audience that watched his antics with rapt attention. His round cheeks were nearly as red as the homely red hood enveloping his head. His dress was not much in the way of style, adornment or protection;his small toes wore out of his red shoes, but he did not mind that: he rather liked it because of the freedom it gave him. He divided his time between looking around at the passengers and worrying his mother and grandmother, at intervals doing both at once as easily as one. What was he on earth for? The blue eyes could find no answer in the passen gers' faces. His mother's eye pits were deep today and nis fists fitted nicely into the cavi ties. He plied them vigorously for a moment. Then ho pulled the mother's nose as if he would stretch it a little. He kicked at his mother and she smiled slightly. At this he uttered a scream and ran his fingers into his mouth. It was an unusual thing for grandmother to smile. She cannot remember ever having smiled before, it was so long ago since she had. The mother looked thin—thin because she did not have enough to eat—and as if she hated all of the world save her baby. She did not mind the child's pounding. It was like striking herself in play. Tho little fellow was of her flesh, and had absorbed all of herstrength. She cared not for her future if her baby could be provided for. She looked upon him as all her own. He was nothing of his father's. His father? They were go ing to see him. "He's a smasher, ain't he?" the con ductor said, stopping the car, and the least bit of pride showed itself in the mother's face as she descended the steps, tho swing of the baby's weight throwing her almost prone upon the pavement. They climbed the stairs, the three gen j erations—child, mother, grandmother— j into the courtroom. The judge was | looking neither grave nor stern; he was | looking commonplace; the case before I him was one of everyday occurrence. The first witness was called—the plain tiff, John Whiteside. Whiteside had been relieved of some few dollars in money. He was a countryman when he came to town to sell his produce—four handed, law obeying, shrewd. A thief should bo jailed forever; hanging was none too good for him, he thought. He had a straightforward tale. The mother of the accused sat looking fixedly at the man on the stand; the young mother and wife wept: tho baby tlirew its arms around its mamma's neck and screamed. The lawyer for the accused made an j objection without confidence, which was denied, and he sat down dejectedly. He was young, und paid for taking up the case in the experience it was supposed to give him. Witnesses were called cor roborating the plaintiff's testimony. Tho defense? There was none of any weight; the young lawyer hud conjured what there was out of byplaces; the prisoner could ask only for leniency. The money had been used to buy drink with. Would the court be lenient? the lawyer asked. The gray haired plaintiff evidently saw something familiar in the old woman with the young mother and child sitting in the row of spectators. He looked closely at the face hardened with suffer ing; little to connect it with its youth was to be seen. The old countryman rose and walked outside the railing to whero she was sitting, his face whiter than his hair and his hands trembling. "Aren't you Suo Whiteside?" he asked. ■'l was —once." "You ran away from home to be mar- j ried to a young New York feller?" "Yes." She shuddered. She felt the | clear eyes of the old man upon her. I What was coming next? He knew about I her history I She tried to cover her rags. Pride did not last long, while the man | continued to look at her narrowly and mystified. What was the use of cover- ' ing? She was low down forever now. i Her life would have soon run its stretch. "Don't you know me? I am your brother." "John, John!" She drew away from him." "Why didn't you write to us?" "1 was ashamed. 1 had nothing to : tell only misery!" "You killed your mother. She never ! smiled after that night." "Let me go. No, no; save my boy. He is the only support we hare." "Since it is your first offense, and, 1 hope, your last one, I will bo lenient," j the judge was saying. "Your honor, sir." The old man stood again within the rail. "There was a lit- ! tie misunderstanding. This boy is my nephew. I'll take him away from the city. I withdraw my charge, and I wish you would let him go free, your honor." "1 will!" The accused put on his derby hat and slouched over where the little knot of relatives was gathered. He looked at his child, its mother and grandmother. "The kid's gettin fat. Ain't he, Mary?" "Now you are all goin back home with me" "Home? Never, never"— The fallen sister started to go, drawing the thin shawl about her shoulders. "I do not live in Painsville now, Su san. 1 am in the west. No one will know you out there." A Bigh of relief, content, happiness issued from the grandmother's lips. The weary woman folt the baby to be lighter on her knee. The child crowed as if ho thought the west the best kind of a place for a growing baby. "I don't like to leave old New York for the country," said the young man. "There's nothin going on out there. Mobbe 'twill bo easier sleddin. Say, old man, you got five ceuts about you? j I ain't had a drink for three days—see?" ; —New York Herald. CASTOR I A for Infants and Children. "Caetoria is so well adapted to children that I recommend it as Buj>erior to any prescription known to me." 11. A. ARCHER, M. D., 11l So. Oxford St., Brooklyn, N. Y. "The use of 'Castoria* is so universal and its merits so well known that it seems a work of supererogation to endorse it. Few arethe intelligent families who do uot keep Custoria within easy reach." CARLOS MARTYN, D. D., New York City. Late Pastor Bloomingdal© Reformed Church. THK CENTAUR COMPANY, 77 MURRAY STREET, NEW YORK. i BEADING liMOil SYSTEM. Fi- LEHIGH VALLEY DIVISION. Anthracite coal used exclu sively, insuring cleanliness and conilort. ARRANGEMENT OF PASSENGER TRAINS. DEC. 4, 1803. LEAVE FREELAND. 0.10,8.35,9.40, 10.41 A. M„ 13.25, 1.50, *l3, 3.50, 4.55, 0.41, 7.13, 8.47 I'. M„ f.ir Drittoil, Jeildo, liumlter Yard, Stockton and lia/leton. 0.10, 0.40 A. M., l.f>(), 3.7)0 P. M m for Maucli Chunk, Allcntown, Bethlehem, Phila., Easton ami New York. 8.37) A. M. for Bethlehem, Easton and Phila delphia. 7.20, 10.50 A. M.j 12.16, 4.50 P. M. (via Highland Branch) for White Haven, (Hen Summit, Wilkes-Burre, Pittaton and L. and B. Junction. SUNDAY TRAINS. 11.40 A. M. and 3.45 P. M. for Drifton, Jeddo, Lumber Yard and Ha/.leton. 3.45 P. M. for Delano. Mahanoy City, Shen andoah, New York and Philadelphia. ARRIVE AT FREELAND. 5.50, 7.00, 7.26, 0.18, 10.50 A. M., 12.10, 1.15,2.33, 4.50, 7.03 and 8.37 P. M. from lla/.leton, Stock ton, Lumber Yard, Jeddo and Drifton. 7.20, 0.18, 10.50 A. M., 12.16, 2.33, 4.50, 7.03 P. M. from Delano, Mahanoy City and Shenandoah (via New Boston Branch). 1.15 and >.37 I'. M. from New York, Easton, Philudclnhia, Bethlehem, Allcntown am' Maucli Chunk. 9.18 and 10.50 A. M. from Easton, Philadel phia, Bethlehem and Munch Chunk. 9.18, 10.41 A. M., 2.43, 041 I'. M from White Haven, (lien Summit, Wilkes-Barre, Pittsioi and L. and B. Junction (via Highland Branch). SUNDAY TRAINS. 11.31 A, M. and 3.31 P. M. from Hazleton. Lumber Yard, Jeddo and Drifton. 11.31 A. M. from Delano, Ilazleton, Philadel phia and Easton. 3.31 I'. M. from Pottsville and Delano. For further information inquire of Ticket Agents. I. A. SWEIGAUD, Gen. Mgr. C. G. HANCOCK, Gen. Puss. Agt. Philadelphia, Pa. A. W. NONNEM ACIIEH, Ass't G. P. A., South Bethlehem, Pa. THE NEXT MORNING"I FEEL BRIGHT AND NEW AND MY COMPLEXION IS BETTER. My doctor says It acts gently on tho stomach, liver and kidneys, and is a pleasant lnxatlvu. This drink Is mado from herbs, and is prepurcd (or use oa eaaily as tea. It Is called LANE'S MEDICINE Al) druggists sclllt ut 30. and SI.OO a package. If Ton can not get It .send your ad d reus for freo sample. Lane's Family Medicine moves the bowelaeuch T OIf ATOII i^'\v'oulMVAKU^°L*liOV.' I .V ,^, HORSEMEN ALL KNOW TIIAT Wise's Harness Store Is still here and doing busi ness on the same old principle of good goods and low prices. " I wish I had one." HORSE : OOSSS. Blankets, Buffalo Robes, liar ness, and in fact every thing needed by Horsemen. Good workmanship and low prices is my motto. GEO. WISE, Jeddo, an*! N 35 entre St. Advertise in the Tribune. Cast or I a cures Colic, Constipation, Sour Stomach, Diarrluva. Eructation, Kills Worms, gives sleep, and promote© di gestion, Without injurious medication. " For several years I have recommended your ' Castoria, 1 aud shall always continue to do HO as it has invariably produced beneficial results." EDWIN F. PARDEE, M. D. T "The Wlnthrop," 125 th Street aud Tth Ave., New York City. |Cavjnts, and Trade-Marks retained, and all Cat-J sent business conducted for MODERATE FEES. J|OUR OFFICE IS OPPOSITE U. S. PATENT OFFICE' J and we can secure patent in less time than those j £ remote from Washington. ! * Send model, drawing or photo., with descrip-5 Stion. We advise, if patentable or not, free of i gcharge. Our fee not due till patent is secured. 2 T A PAMPHLET, "How to Obtain Patents," with 4 5 cost of same in the U. S. and foreign countries i gsent free. Address, 2 jC.A.S!MOW&CO.i OPP. PATENT OFFICE, It Cures Colds, Coughs. Boro Throct. Croup. Influen • za, Whooping Cough, Bronchitis and Afithma. A certain cure for Consumption in first stages, and a sure relief in advanced stages. Use at once. You will s?e the excellent effect after taking tho first dose, told by dealers everywhere. Largs bottles 50 cents and SI.OO. Scientific American .. "flin ilter*'" ii 11 .! WyjwO* TRADE MARKS, lot* DESICN PATENTS, COP YRICHTS, etc. For Information and freo Handbook write to MUNN ti CO., Jkil BIIoADWAY, NEW YOUR. Oldest burenu for securing patents in America. Every patent takon mil by us Is brought before the public by uiiutico given free of churgo lu tho jcicntific JUnmnw Largest clreuln'ion of any scientific paper In tho world. Splendidly illustrated. No intelligent man should bo without it. Weekly, $3.00 a year: sl.6onix months. Address MLSJN A CO.. I'l'iiLisuEUS, 301 Broadway, Now York City. WE TELL TOO nothing new when we state that it pays to engage in u permanent, most healthy and pleasant btisi ness, that returns a prolit for every day's work. , Such is the business we oiler tho working class. We teach them how to make money rapidly, and guarantee everv one who follows our instructions ' lithfuily the making of $300.00 u mouth. Every one who takes hold now and works will surely and speedily increase their earnings; there can be no oiiestion about it; others now at work are doing It, ami you, reader, can do the same. This is the best paying business that you have ever lind the clutucu to secure. You will make a grave mistake if you foil to give it a trial at once. If you grasp the situation, and act quickly,.you will directly find yourself in a most prosperous business, at which you can surely make and save large sums of money. The results of only a few hours' work will often equal a week's wages. Whether you are old or \oung. man or womun.it makes 110 dilfcreuc . do as we tell you, MIK! suc cess will meet you nt tin- very start. Neither experience or capital necessary. Those who work for us are rewarded. Win hot write to-day for lull particulars, free y li. 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Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers