SUMMER NIGHT. Ob, silent nightl Ob, smothering stillness That settles down on drooping bough, Thou hold'st the earth in breathless slurabet Awake, but now. Gray mists arise From dow-wet flowers, That lend tholr fragrance to the night; And languid float on breath of summer An incense light A pale moon shines On weary grasses, That bend their heads with mournful grace; Then sinks behind the white clouds floating, And veils her face. Heat quivers oft In lightning flashes Along the soft gray northern sky, And illuminates the grand old forest In shade near by. A bird sings out In broken stanzas From yon tall bush with blossoms fair, Dream songs that, sung in drowsy snatches. Arouse the air, And echoes find In hidden music, That soft doscond from regiens high, And wake the sleeping, sultry breezes To softly sigh. —F. S. Ward, in N. Y. Independent ~ Br riflfwrL££ frS [Copyright, 1893, / Jfcy. by the Author.] 1 ll jTTHO is the girl 'UIIIBP ~ \J<I that pas.set '/; Inm hero half ® rt 1 0ZC ° u, t 1 /#i'e ■ '), Ml]at <lay? askecl JM y l/M P Tony Mat |S'y®V V thews,address f P inga roomful? — o f hi ß nearest and dearest. He was laid up with ? sprained ankle, and spent his time in a great window surrounded by papers, books and periodicals. All his sisters answered at once. "Does she live next door?" asked Jennie. "Is sho small and pretty?" queried Belle. 4 "Does she wear a dark brown dress?" inquired Fanny. "Yes, yes, yes!" said Tony, laughing. "Oh! wo know all about her," came in chorus. "Oo on," cried Tony. "Let mc know what you do." "I thought you wore absorbed in lit erature," remarked Tony's aunt, from a far corner. "So I am, aunt; but human beings interest mc, too. Why not? I notice that this girl goes out, rain or sliinc, always alone. Sometimes she walks quickly, and her expression is bright and rcst/uL Then again, he* step'is slow, and her face very sad." "I can account for that," said Jennie. "She was nursing Mrs. Robins, and had a very hard siege of it—up all night and on duty during the day." "Is she a professional nurse?" "No; that is the trouble," explained Fanny. "If she were a professional anything she would be at least sure of a living. She is an orphan, left to liei own resources, and has no special train ing." "And is she a lady?" asked the aunt. "Yes. She has good friends. Mrs. Allen, next door, rents her a room. She goes to her meals' at the house of another friend. Sho works at anything sho can get to do, and I suppose she pays her modest expenses. She can trim bonnets, make dresses, mend, and even cook, if necessary. We met her socially before wo learned these facts." "And since then?" asked Tony, in a clear voice, regarding his sisters quiet ly and steadily. "We occasionally see her. at the houses of her mother's friends," said Jennie. "She is very retiring, dresses very prettily and looks as if she be longed to a past generation." "I do not quite understand you, Jen nie," said Aunt Lizzie. "What do you mean by 'a past generation'?" "Oh! well, auntie, if you don't know just what I mean, I am afraid I can't mako you. Miss Barton is shy and dig nified. If she feels liko the other girls about her she certainly does not act or express herself as we do. Of course she cannot enjoy what we do. She has nothing to say when public amuse ments are the topic, because she has neither the time nor the money to—" "Take them in," suggested Tony. "Exactly," went on Jennie. "I was trying to avoid the slang, because I wanted to convey a proper impression of Miss Barton. She lis.tens eagerly, but takes little share in general conver sation. She dances gracefully; she was playing the piano, on one occasion, for some one to sing." "The fact is," interposed Belle, "that she has no more to do with our ways aud ideas than the man in the moon." "Sho isn't in it!" said Tony. "Now you have it," said his aunt, smiling. "Where are you all off to now?" cried Tony, seeing his sisters putting aside their bits of embroidery. "Oh! we have hours of formal calling before us, and three receptions." "I thought you were going out to night" He sighed and glanced at his foot , - "So we are." "We won't be homo till morning," sang Belle. "We are very selfish," said Fanny, "but this is such a lovely invitation!" "Oh, you can't decline on my ac count 1 only wish I could hop along with you. Don't forget to come in and let me look at you before you put on your wraps." "No, Indeed!" The door shut after the girls, and Tony returned to his books. When he heard his sisters going out, ho gazed after their slight figures in their well made walking-dresses, and while BO doing became conscious of Miss Bar ton, slowly approaching them. He ob served their distant nod of recognition and her almost imperceptible move ment of the head in return. She reached her own stoop and disappeared in the vestibule. "By Jove!'' he exclaimed, "I'd like to shake them!" "Shake what? whom?" asked his aunt. "Why, those sisters of mine. They don't behave themselves. Why should they snub a girl because of her pov erty?" "Why, indeed? I doubt if they could do as well, if left penniless. Ah! Tony, this is a very insincere world!" "I'll bet you!" "To be sure, they and Miss Barton can have few ideas in common. I sup pose she is resting after hours of tedi ous sewing, and they are rushing off to display their new gowns and exchange bits of gossip with their well-dressed, talkative friends. So far as happiness is concerned her heart may be lighter than theirs." "I hope you are right, Aunt Lizzie," and Tony turned to his copy of Life. Miss Barton had ascended two llights of stairs, entered a hall bedroom and taken off her hat and jacket. She sat down in a creaky old rocking chair and Indulged in a few tears. Exactly why she cried was a problem to herself. She was accustomed to loneliness; reading was its antidote. She understood the treatment accorded her by her neigh bors. It was very weak and silly to fret; for her time was all to be occupied for weeks to come, and what more could she desire? Suppose she had no work —no means of paying her board— then, indeed, she might be excused for sobbing like a baby. But she was fully aware that when sho was without engagements she never dreamed of cry ing; she went out and looked for some thing to do. Perhaps she was hungry. She had several hours to wait before, dinner would be ready in the close, heated dining-room, filled with table boarders, where she gladly presented herself at six o'clock every evening. Having decided that it was hunger, and not wounded pride that had as sailed her, and being healthy of mind and body, she opened a drawer, helped herself to crackers and chocolate, and while slowly enjoying them noticed a letter on her dressing-table. It was from an old friend of her mother's. "MY DEAU TESSIE— I am going to have u charming littlo gathering next Wednesday evening, and you must bo hero for dinner at seven. Don't fail me; cancel any tiresome en gagements. Yours, with affection, "IILAUTIIA TOWNSKND." Miss Barton felt her cheeks warming with delightful anticipations. Fortun ately, if the world is afllictcd with purse-proud people, it is blessed with warm-hearted, thoughtful, human men and women, who keep the balance on the right side. On the Wednesday evening following, Miss Barton found her hostess con versing with a tall, slight, attractive man, whose age was rather battling owing to his fairness and bright ex pression. She presented him to Miss Barton, and observed that" the girl blushed prettily and seemed rather more shy than usual. "I am going to lecture Mr. Townscnd, Tessie. He's always late; and if it pleases you Mr. Matthews will take you in to dinner. I couldn't give you a nicer neighbor." Mrs. Townscnd •turned away, and Miss Barton raised her eyes to meet ifj I : If* "I AM A GENERAL UTILITY WOMAN." those of her new acquaintance brim ming with laughter. "Mrs. Townscnd is perfectly innocent of a joke, Miss Barton; but I hope she has told you the truth." "She always docs." "She is just the sweetest woman I know. I almost declined this invita tion, but my affection for her settled the question. lam doubly repaid for the effort. I have been wishing to meet you in this way for weeks!" Miss Barton's diffidence became per fect silence. Mr. Matthews found it easy to tell her the thoughts that for lays had filled his mind. "I don't suppose you were aware of my existence," he said, simply. "Yes, I was. I have seen you on the street, and hoard of you from Mrs. Alien." "But you never really thought about me." "Oh, no, indeed! I had no time. I am a general utility woman." She blushed and spoke very seriously. "I fear that my fancy will suffer. I can not indulge in day dreams." "Never mind dreams; they don't lount. Will you tfilce time to consider a proposal? That's real. I know all about you, and I love you. I can't add to that statement. I tell you what; these people are very considerate, and I've seized opportunity. Just bear in mind all 1 have said, and I'll call on you, say to-morrow evening, and say more." "I am wondering if am awake or dreaming now." "Then, 1 may come?" "Yes." A SouvriTr. A.—l am in a dreadful fix. Do, please, lend me ten marks. B.—But you have got a diamond ring; why don't you pawn it? A.—-I cannot find it in my heart to do so; the ring Is a memento of ray de ceased aunt. B.—Really? Well, then, tny money is a memento of my deceased fathor. — Der Bar. HIS MOTHER-IN-LAW. Sho Was Not the Hard, Unforgiv ing Creature lie Expected. "You've come, liave you?" sail mother-in-law in a deep voice, as she stood on the threshold grimly survey ing me with eyes that shone like hard, greenish-blue gooseberries behind her spectacles. For such modern trilles as eye-glasses were as unsuited to my mother-in-law's fine Roman nose as a point lace collar would be to the Venus di Milo. I could feel her glance pene trate to the very marrow of my bones; and yet I contrived to keep a bold front as I stood facing her. It was rather a curious complication My mother-in-law had not the least idea who I was. I had cheerfully in tended to take her by surprise; but now that the eventful moment had arrived, my courage, like that of Bob Acres, as Jefferson shows him, was oozing out at the ends of my fingers. My name is Richard Dalton. I was then just twenty-one, with a face that was not absolutely ugly, a sublime au dacity, and pockets not particularly well lined, and I had just distinguished myself by running away with a pretty girl from boarding school. "But, Dick," she had remonstrated, "we have nothing to live on." "Don't be.a goose, darling!" had been my reply. "What do people need to live on? All the wa:it3 of this world, more or less, are fictitious. A crust of bread and a glass of water three times a day, and now and then a suit of clothes—we must be poor, indeed, if we can't manage to compass that." Nettie had looked admiringly upon me and acquiesced in my argument. We had taken board at the "Angel Ilill Hotel," and began our honeymoon roy ally. At the end of a month mine host had become a little importunate on the subject of his bill, and Nettie's mother had written a letter to her signifying that she wanted nothing whatever to do with us. We had made our own bed, she signified, and now we might lie on it. "Oh, Dick!" cried Nettie, clasping her hands; "what are we to do?" "Hanged if I know!" was my rather blank response. "But don't cry, dar ling, I'll go and see her myself." "You, Dick?" "I, myself!" "She'll have nothing to say to you-" "She can't help herself " "She'll turn you out of doors." "We'll see about that." "But, Dick, you don't know—you can't have any idea—how terrible she is," sighed Nettie. "St. George conquered the dragon, my love," I asserted, cheerfully, "and I mean to conquer your mother. So pack my valise, there's a darling, and I'll be off before the landlord comes back from Liverpool." "But, Dick, if he's troublesome, what can I say to him?" appealed poor little frightened Nettie. "Tell him I've gone out of town and shall be back in a few days," said L confidently. But valiantly as I spoke, my mental sensations by no means' corresponded with this bold part. I was beginning dimly to realize what a very unwise step I had taken and also persuaded poor Nettie to take. And I was secretly making up my mind that if Nettie's mother refused to receive us, I would ship myself off to sea as second mate or third purser, or something of that sort, send my ad vanced wages to my poor little wife and commence the world over again in this irregular fashion. Hut when I walked resolutely up to my mother-in-law's door she greeted me as if I had been expected for the last week or so. "You've come, have you?" was tht salutation. "Well, yes," I admitted, "I've come." "What on earth detained you?" said she. In my mind I cast about what to saj and settled on the first convenient ex cuse that came into my head. "The train was delayed at Bogle town," said I. •'Well, come in, now that you're here," said she, "and get warm. It's awful cold weather for this time o' year, isn't it?" "Yes," said I, with an assenting nod. "Let me see," said my mother-in-law, as she took a steaming platter of ham and eggs out of the oven and lifted a shining coffee pot from the stove; "how old are you?" "One and twenty," said I. "I)o you think," said she, pensive! feeling of her chin, "tfcat you are able to take care of the place? There's a great deal to do, you know, on a farm like this. Do you thiqk you're up to the work?" "Of course I think so," said I, won dering what on earth my mother-in law meant. "You are married, I suppose," said she. "Oh, yes," said I, swallowing the hot coffee and winking my eyes very hank "I'm married." "Can your wife make herself general ly useful about the place?" sharply de manded the old lady. "Certainly she can," said I, beginning vaguely to see my way through tho mists of perplexity that had heretofore obscured ray brain. "How old is she?" asked Mrs. Martin. "Eighteen," I answered. Mrs. Martin frowned. "What does possess girls to get mar ried now-a-days," said she, "before they've left off dolls and patchwork?" I looked thoughtfully down at the pattern of my plate—a pink Chinaman crossing a carmine bridge with two very red willows drooping at the far end of it, and some impossible streaks of water below—and made no direct answer. My mother-in-law was doubtlessly laboring under a misapprehension, but 1 did not exactly see that it was my business to set her right. She had evidently engaged a steward, and took it for granted that I was the personage in question. "What can you do?" she asked, ab ruptly. And with equal curtness I responded: "Anything." "Gome, 1 like that," said my mother in-law, rubbing her hands. "At least you are not afraid of work. Do you un derstand cows ami horses?" "Well, not much," 1 owned. . "There were no cattle in my last place." (Which was very true, for I had been a clerk in a bank.) "But I have not tho least doubt that I could soon learn, if you would kindly show me what is ex pected of me." "Can yon cut wood?" she asked. "Certainly," said I, reflecting to my self that any fool might do that. She asked one or two questions more which I answered with the blind fatuity which attends youth and confidence. She seemed pleased with my willing ness to undertake anything and every thing. "And now about wages?" she said briskly. "What will you ask for your own services, and those of your wife— by the month?" 1 fitted the tips of my fiugcrs reflect ivcly together. "As we are both rather iuexperi enced," said I, "we'll agree to work the first month for our board; after that you shall pay us what you think we are both worth." "Hum—hum!" said my mother-in law, "that's a sensible proposition—a very sensible one, indeed. Well, send for the young woman at once. In the meantime I'll show you over the place and exi>lain to you the nature of your duties." So I hired myself out to my mother in-law as farm servant, without further ceremony, and immediately wrote and posted a letter to Nettie. On my return from the post office 1 met a burl# young man meditating at a spot where four roads meet. "Cap you tell me, sir," said he, "where Mrs. Abel Martin lives?" "Oh, yes, sir, I can tell you," I re sponded, affably. "But if you arc look ing for the situation, I may as well tell you that it's filled." The burly young man made some re marks, indicative, in a general way, of his opinion of the fickleness of woman kind, and departed, whilst I returned rejoicing to the old farmhouse. "Here's a very nice beginning," said Ito myself. "It is now my business to give as much satisfaction as possible." Fortune favored me in more ways than one. My mother-in-law sprained her ankle on the second (lay, and I played cook as well as man-of-all-work with distinguished success, and I had the satisfaction to hear her say to old Miss Priscilla Perkins that she didn't know when she had taken such a notion to anyone as she had to the new man. "He's too young and good-looking to suit me," observed Miss Priscilla, purs ing up her steel-trap of a mouth. "He is good looking, ain't he?" said my mother in-law. "But he's dreadful handy about tffe house, and heain'tone bit afraid of work. And you ought to have seen the oysters he stewed for my supper last night, and the cup of tea he made; why, I don't miss Jemima Styles one bit. If Nettie could have stayed single till she met such a man as this!" I smiled to myself as I laid out the kindling's for the breakfast fire. My accomplishments as "Jack-of-all trades" had never done me much good before. But now th*y were certainly winning rae much credit in the world. At the eml of the third day she had told me the whole story of her daughter's runaway with a "good-for nothing young city chap." On the fourth day she had consulted with me as to whether it was better to put the forty-acre lot into oats or rye, and I had won her heart by taking to pieces the old town clock, which had not gone for ten years, and restoring it to running order once again. And on the evening of the same day Nettie arrived, all blushing and trem bling. "Oh, Dick," said she, "is she very an gry?" "My dear, she hasn't any idea who I am." "But, Dielc—" "No buts, my darling," said I cheei fully. "Let us be 'Julius Cuosar' oven again. 'We come, we see, we con quer.' " And I dragged my unwilling little wife into the back room, where my mother-in-law lay on a sofa nursing her ankle. "Here's my wife, ma'am," said I, "and I hope she'll give satisfaction." Mrs. Martin jumped up, spite of the wounded ankle. "Nettie!" she cried, in blank amaze meut. "Oh, mother, mother!" faltered Net tie, throwing both hands around the old lady's neck, "please forgive me this time and I'll never, never elope again!" "i'lcuso, ma'am, we'll be go<xl," added 1. And my mother-in-law relented 01 the spot. How could she do otherwise? "Henrietta," said she, "you've been a naughty girl—there's no denying that. Hut your husband scorns a handy man about the house, and I'm tired of living alone. So take oif your things and go to work getting supper. As for you, Richard"— "Yes, ma'am," said I, "I know I've been playing a double part, and de ceived you all along. But I wanted you to like me—and you know," I added, "all is fair in love and war!" "Well, I do like you a little," admit ted my mother-in-law. "And now that I have seen you, Dick, I don't much wonder at the way Nettie behaved." After that she never scolded me any more. And I honestly believe that this is the only case on record in which a mother-in-law was conquered in so brief a campaign. Nettie says she doesn't ! know how I did it. In fact, I don't quite know myself.—Bow Bells. I —lntuitive Knowledge.—"Now, Bot i oie," said the teacher in natural his tory, "what is a panther?" "A man that makthc panth," lisped Bobbie. - I Huck. I —"How about this new neighbor; L I she agreeable?" "No, she's had three j new dresses inside of a mouth."—Chi cago Inter Ocean. PILGRIMS AT ST. PAUL'S. Th* Namber Who Wearily Climb to the Dome Kaeh Day. There is only one SL Paul's, and upon the summit of its dome there is hut one ball. At long- intervals a Londoner, and more frequently a tourist, climbs to this ball and sticks his head and shoulders inside. Having done this and looked upon the heart of the world from the stone gallery and the golden gallery, and upon the congregation from the whispering gallery, he re turns to earth and tells his friends and acquaintances of his feat, and advises them to follow his example. The num ber of persons who make this pilgrim age averages about forty per day. To reach the ball it is necessary to climb six hundred and forty steps of many varieties. The proportions of the gilded globe arc in perfect keeping with its surroundings. It has a diam eter of six feet, and twelve persons can stand within its walls. It weighs five thousand six hundred pounds. The gilded cross that towers above it is fifteen feet in height. From this ball nearly all London is seen on a clear day. Why there are so many kinds of steps in the cathedral no one pretends to explain. In the opinion of those who have counted them, to climb these steps is equal to covering twenty miles on an ordinary road. It is uni versally considered, however, that the return journey is equal to a Russian bath. The first steps are of wood. These are succeeded by steps of stone, and these in turn by iron ones. Then there are ladders, some with a gentle slant, while others stand so straight that to those who climb they appear to lean backward. The first ladder stands on the crown of the second dome, where an officer gives necessary direc tions to such men as want to see the ball, for few try to go above the crown of the dome, being content to rest there and watch some exceptionally active sightseer do the rest. STUPENDOUS ERUPTIONS. Havoc Created by Some of the Larger Volcanoes. Few people of this country Imagine what terrible work a volcano of the regulation size can do when it once gets fully aroused. In 1838 Cotopaxi threw Its fiery rockets more than 3,000 feet above the crater, and, in 1857, when the blazing mass confined in the same mountain was struggling for an outlet, it roared so loud that the awful noise was heard for a distance of 000 miles. In 1707, says the Philadelphia Record, the crater of Tunguragua, one of the great peaks of the Andes, flung out torrents of mud and lava which dammed up a great river, opened new lakes, besides making a deposit of seething mud, ashes and lava 000 feet deep over the whole area of a valley which was 20 miles long and averaged 1,000 feet in width! The stream of lava which flowed from Vesuvius in 1837 and passed through tho Valley of Tcrre del Greco is estimated to have been 833,000,000 cubic feet of solid matter. In 1700 Aetna poured out a flood of melted stones and ashes which covered 84 square miles of fertilo country to a depth of from 10 to 40 feet. On this occasion tho sand, scoria, lava, etc., from the burning mountain formed Mount Rosini, a peak two miles in cir cumference and over 4,000 feet high. In the eruption of Vesuvius in the year 70 A. D., the time of the destrue tian of l'ompcii, the scoria, ashes, sand and lava vomited forth far exceeded the size of the volcano itself, while in 1000 Aetna disgorged over twenty times its own mass. Vesuvius has sent Its ashes into Syria, Egypt and Turkey. It hurled stones of 800 pounds weight to Pompeii, a distance of six English miles, during the eruption of 79 A. D. Cotopaxi once projected a block of stone containing over 100 cubic yards a distance of nine and a half miles. SIGNIFICANT NAMES. They Are Sometimes Singularly Changed by Matrimony. Now and then a family is found where the parents have been animated with a desire to give their children "names that mean something," as in the case of one where tho children were numbered instead of named. In other instances the first name had been bestowed with strict reference to the significance of tho last name. An English journal records that, not long since, a clergyman in Notting hamshire, in baptizing a baby, paused to inquire the name, and was told by the father: "Shady, sir, if you pleaso." "Shady!" replied the minister, "then it's a boy, and you mean Shadrach?" "No, sir, it's a girl." "And what do you mean by giving it such a name as Shady?" "Why, sir, if j'ou must know, our name is Bower, and we thought as how Shady Bower would make such a pret ty name." This recalls a case of a young lady In a western state who bore the romantic name of Ivy Green—or bore it until she was married. Her case was more fortunate than that of the daughter of a gentleman named Rose, who bore through her girlhood the name of Wild Rose; but, having married an excellent young German of the name of Katz, was fated during the remainder of her life to sign herself Wild Katz! A WboleHOiiio Lesson. A tall, elderly, refined-looking gen tleman went into a small post olliec in a rural region of England. He asked some questions relative to the register ing of a letter, and was very sharply, rudely and unueeessarUy snubbed by a young woman in attendance. He asked her if she thought that was a proper way to answer an inquiry in a public oflice. She said she thought that she had been quite civil enough for him. He asked her, with an ominously increasing mildness of man ner, if she would favor him with her namo. She emphatically declined to do so. Ho then said he thought ho would tell her his name, which, how ever, she doclined to hear, saying that i his name was no concern of hers He j calmly replied that ho thought it woo, tor ho was the postmaster general CASTOR I A for Infants and Children. '•'Castor 1 a is so well adapted to children that I recommend it as superior to any prescription known to me." 11. A. ARCHER, M. D., 11l So. Oxford St., Brooklyn, N. Y. "The rise of 'Castoria 9 is so universal and its merits so well known that it seems a work of supererogation to endorse it. 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Ripans Tabules may be ob tained of nearest druggist; or ; b" mail on receipt of price. I For frvqaampla nddreas R'.PANS CHEMICAL CO. j NEW von::. AT C fv F JtAKE IM THE NEXT MORNING I FEEL BRIGHT AND NEW AND MY COMPLEXION IS BETTER. ] My doctor says it acta front,ly on tho stomach, liver and kidneys, ami is nplen.-m.t Inxntivo. This drink )• : mndo f i oin herbs, and is lm pared forusuaneuatly u . tea. It la called LANE'S MSbfGIHE All druggist swell It at TOc. and ¥I.OO a package. Ji you can not get it.stmdvnur address for free - rnpl< Lane's i'limlly Medicine i-mviu tlo u..u day. Inonl. ro,t,oi,.,!i!;v l i V OUATOii T-VibuUVVA i,', L.l.Cik, Y, njlylD axlb NlAlCll OREASEj BEST I\ TIIE WORLD. Its woaring qualitiesnre unsurpassed, actually outlasting two boxes of any other brand. Not ©fleeted by boat. IrfHiE'i' THE CaLN L IN E. FOTt SALE BY DEALERS GENERALLY, f ,/r "A N |"b TaZ'Tl\ M 1 LY "M E b"c l™N E ■ For Indigestion. Hlllousiusft. (J H Headache, Constipation, Had land all disordcra of tlio Btouiacli, " | Liver and Bowels, . i RIPANS TABULES (2^££.,x&J 1 j ir y uo H'M '| = Packager! boxc*)!tL\ I For free samples add row 'im < 0 " _ Entirely |, VEGETABLE;; \\NANDRAKE\ A S T RE I ;;|^^^lcure2 i COSTIVENESS | | Biliousness, Dyspepsia, a Indigestion, Diseases of A the Kidneys, Torpid Liver A 1 Rheumatism, Dizziness, A ' Sick Headache, Loss of f I Appetite, Jaundice, Erup y I tions and Skin Diseases. ▼ | j Priso 25c. per bottlo, Cold by all Druggists. B Sold'at Schilcher's Drug Store. I READ THE TRIBUNE— —ONLY 11.150 PER YEAR. I Castoria cures Colic, Constipation, Sour Stomach, Diarrhoea. Eructation, Kills Worms, gives sleep, and promotes di gestion, "Without injurious medication. " For several years I have recommended your ' Castoria,' and shall always continue to do so as it has invariably produced bouoflcial results," EDWIN F. PARDEE, M. D., "The Winthrop," 105 th Street aud 7th Ave., New York City. £ Caveats, and Trade-Marks obtained, and all Pat- i *ent business conducted for MODERATE FEES. 0 Jour OFFICE IS OPPOSITE U. S. PATENT OFFICE# 5 and we can secure patent in less tiuic than those £ 3 remote from Washington. S # Send model, drawing or photo., with descrip-# Ition. We advise, if patentable or not, free of J 4 charge. Our fee not due till patent is secured. # J A PAMPHLET, "How to Obtain Patents,"' with# J cost of same in the U. S. and foreign countries i 3 sent free. Address, # JC.A.SWOW&CO,! PATENT OFFICE, Washington^D^C^^ Fl PS 1 •< t 1 & O W i ww/c ■ J. J ' ! Jte-us. ■■■ ' ■-/ -j. X' k - ! ■gjpp SJ, FEU,' '' U 'i: - - XtOttt s Oci itOoagha • i uffoat, CreupiTn ta, \jo)!gh, 1.0 i ii vl At flu., a. A ! Cti i .. 01 n for on. u . . . . .- rr i, r-.d B b i sell I ... if - •. 1 Yo-J v. .'.l :• ct'.'.v ••''.L . . . t t 1 I fi:bt d-.c'. \1 / - - .-i ever- • L- J | bottles 10 cents ar.:.C 1.00. ji Scientific American M TRADE MARKS, ! DESICN PATENTS. COPV RIGHTS, etc. For information and frco Handbook write to MUNX AC CO., BROADWAY, NEW YORK. Oldest bureau for aecuring patents In America. Kvery patent taken out by us is brought before the public by a notice given froo of chargo in tho fnctttific Jimciiatt Largest circulation of any Bclontiflepnpor in tho world. Splendidly illustrated. No Intelligent, man should bo without it. Weekly, s;t.oo n year? fl.sosix months. Address .MI NN A CO., PUUDISUEUS, 301 Broadway, New York City. WE TELL TOO nothing new when we stale that It pays to engage in a permanent, most healthy and pleasant busi ness, that returns a profit for every day's'work. Such is the business we oiler the working class. We tench them how to make money rapidly, and guarantee every one who follows our instructions 'althfully the making of 9300.00 a month. Kvery one who takes hold now and works will sure ly and speedily increase their earnings; there can be no oiiestiou about il; others now at work are doing It, and you, reader, can do the same. This is the best paying business that you have ever had the chance to -i cure. You will make a grave mistake if you fail to give it a trial at once. If you grasp the situation, and aet 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 young, man or woman, it makes no differenc \ - do as we tell you, and sue cess will meet you nt the very start. Neither experience or capital necessary. Those who work for us arc r wanh d. Wliv hot write to-day for full particulars, free U K. C ALLIiN .V CO., Box No <l£o, Augusta, 310. TALES FROM TOWN TOPICS. O #~l year of the most successful Quarterly ever published. More than LEADING KEWS PAPEIfcSin North America have complimented tins publication during its first year, and uni versally concede that its numbers afford the brightest and most entertaining reading that i can be had. Published ist day of September, December, March and June. Ask Newsdealer for It, or send the price, GO cents, in stamps or postal uotc to TOWN TOPICS, 21 West 23d St., New York. k - This brilliant Quarterly is not made up Y. EAR s ISSUES of TOWN Tones, contains the best stories, sketches, bur uv.ques, poems .witticisms, etc., from the back iC'! that unique journal, admittedly niost complete, and to all AND WOTli N the most interest ing weekly ever issued. Subscription Price: Tovn Topics, per year, • -SI CO Talos Proa Torn Tcpica, per year, 2.00 Tho two clubtei, - - - 5.03 | Iqq* Top,cß scnl 3 mo "tlis on trial for 11 Previous Noa. of M T.*i.ita' will be ■ nptly forwarded, postpaid, on receipt of ' ccuta eucli.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers