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. Few are the
intelligent families who do not keep Castoria
within easy reach."
CARLOS MARTYN, D. D.,
New York City.
Late Pastor Bloomingdalo Reformed Church.
TDK CENTAUR COMPANY, 77 MURRAY STREET, NEW YOIUC.
I Eipios Tabules;
| Ripsno Tabules act gently j:
: but promptly upon the liver, :i
•I stomach and intestines; cure !:
habitual constipation and dis- ;
pel colds, headaches and fevers. ••
One tabule taken at the first j
symptom d a return of indi- t
gestion, or depression ofspir- |
its, will remove the whole dif- j
ficulty within an hour.
| j
Ripasis Tabules are com- I
: pounded from a prescription |
used for years by well-known j !
physicians and endorsed by |
the highest medical author)- s
ties. In the Tabules the stand- j
ard ingredients arc presented | j
in a form that is becoming the : j
fashion with physicians and j |
patients everywhere.
o;.e 80-; CSIx Vials) S- v- n'y-fivc Centl. 1
One Back.ija (Four Boxes) Two Dollars.
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
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