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. C AI.LKN A CO.,
Box No 420, Augusta, Ale.
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