IN THE QUICKSANDS.
BY H. IRVINE LYNDS.
We were all sitting around the cozj
fireplace in my friend's study, telling
hunting experiences. The wind wo*
blowing outside with just enough force
to give the windows a ghostly rattle,
and make the blaze roar up the chim
ney in away that lent an added charm
to stories into which the element of
danger largely entered.
We had all dutifully told some old
time adventure—with certain udditions
that seemed absolutely necessary un
der the circumstances—all except our
host, who had been given the last place
on the list, so that the series might close
robed in the richest coloring.
He was a hunter of wide and varied
experience and a man who had given
a great deal of intelligent thought to
the mysteries of woodcraft. Conse
quently, whatever he said upon the sub
ject was always listened to with defer
ence.
We therefore settled down a little
more comfortably in our chairs as he
began:
"In my younger days I spent more
time in the woods than Ido now. Not
that I like hunting less. It has as great
attraction for me as ever, the odor of
the woods is as sweet to me as the scent
of powder is to the old war horse; but
many things claim my time now and
keep me from wandering.
"The little adventure I am about to
tell happened in Nova Scotia, 20 years
ago, when 1 was quite a young man.
"It is not generally known that cer
tain parts of the province contain some
of the finest hunting grounds imagina
ble. Miles and miles of virgin forest,
acres of spruce and pine averaging fully
CO feet in height, crowded together on
moss-green groundwork, almost close
enough to shut out daylight. Then
there are parts overrun with high
maples, birch and beech.
"Many a day have I crept through
the deep, shady glades and over the
long, sloping hills. But I am rather
wandering from my story.
"I'll just show you where my adven
ture happened."
Raising, he took down an atlas from
a shelf.
"Just here at the north," he con
tinued. "See that headland? That's
the plaee. Twice a day all the water
in the basin seems to rush around that
point, and away up into the mainland.
"It is marsh land along there, and the
point is called Minudie marsh. It is a
very large tract of land, said to con-
Min 5,000 acres, shut in from the sea by
nine miles of dyke. It is perfectly level,
dotted all over with barns and hay
stacks; and in the autumn also with
men and horses, busily at work cutting
•broad leaf" or marsh hay.
"One not acquainted with the place
could easily become lost, for the barns
and haystacks, extending in every di
rection, are all alike in size, shape nnd
color. It-was near this marsh that 1
had located myself for the hunting sea
son, on account of the excellent sport
which it afforded in the shape of almost
every kind of water fowl, and also be
cause not many miles away were woods
in which moose and caribou were plen
tiful.
"The autumn that year had been very
dry, so that there were, comparatively
speaking, 110 birds 011 the marsh. With
out knowing this, however, 1 one day
set out for a few hours' shooting.
"I truui|)od the best part of the aft
ernoon, without success, and, as 1 dit|
not care to go home without bagging
something, I determined to shoot
•peep' on the mud fiats.
"I rolled up my trousers to th© knee
and started, sinking fully six inches in
the soft mud ut every step. 1 walked
ui>out for some time, getting a shot now
and then and wandering far out upon
the flats, until a rushing noise behind
made me turn quickly around.
"The 'bore' was coming—a bunk of
tumbling, seething water, quite three
feet high, tearing about us fast as a man
could run. 'Time to be getting back/
thought I. 'lt will not take long for the
1 tide to cover the fiats.' I stood and
watched the tidal wave for a moment,
then started quite leisurely for the
dyke, shaping my course directly for
it.
"After having gone 50 yards or so,
1 came to a gully, between eight and
ten feet wide, at the bottom of w hicfy
flowed a little stream. It ran nearly
parallel with the dyke, and in order to
reach the marsh 1 had either to cross
it or go away up nnd around. Not car
ing to lengthen my disagreeable tramp
—for it w as no fun dragging one's feet
out of the mud nt every stop —I decided
to hold my original course. The sides
of the gully looked soft and treacher
ous, but by taking a running jump I
thought I could clear the dangerous
part.
"I stepped back a few paces, and,
firmly grasping the gun, started. I had
miscalculated the effect the bad footing
would have, nnd saw my mistake the
moment I sprang; but too late!
"I landed 011 the other side of the
stream, in what seemed to me the soft
est part of the mud. My weight and
the impetus of my jump drove uic into
the mud knee-deep.
"At first 1 was inclined to laugh at
my plight, but that feeling speedily
gave way to one of anxiety, when I reah
ized that I was swiftly sinking.
"I endeavored to draw my feet on t>
but when I tried to lift one the other
went further down. A cold sweat broke
out 011 my forehead. 1 was in a bed of
quicksand!
"1 struggled with all my strength,
but it was useless. There seemed to be
an undercurrent of sand that was con
tinually slipping away from my feet.
Against that terrible power it was use
less to fight.
"I had heard and read of people dy
ing in this horrible manner, but never
before had the chilling awfulness of
it struck me with any degree of force.
Now, as I thought of being drawn slow
ly down, down inch by inch, in imagi
nation I could feel the cold, wet mud
creeping, like some gruesome reptile
about my neck, higher, higher—over
my chin; over my tightly-closed lips,
until my breath —. I tell you a man's
mind rushes wfien he gets so near tho
border!
"I shouted for help, in the hope of
attracting some one, but it only ex
hausted me, and my struggles caused
me to sink faster.
"In extreme agony of mind, I threw
myself 011 my face —I had not sunk be
low my waist—and clawed the bank in
u frantic endeavor to draw myself out.
My lingers slipped through the soft
mud and touched some hard, smooth
substance, buried about three inches
below the surface.
"I struggled to grasp it, but it was
too large for my fingers to grip. It was
a tree that had probably grounded on
the flat long ago, and the tides had
gradually drifted the sand over it.
"When one is in a position of great
bodily danger, events succeed one an
other much more rapidly than they
can be afterward told. The telling of
Ibis bias taken a great deal longer time
than its actual occurrence. A few min
utes only had passed since I started to
ward the dyke.
"The sound of the tide now rushing
over the lower part of the flats called
me to a sense of new danger.
"Even if I was able to keep from sink
ing for a little while, the red water
would soon rise over the place of my
imprisonment and complete what the
quicksands had so surely begun.
"'Drowning is said to be the easiest
of deaths,' thought I, though any kind
was preferable to being smothered in
oozy quicksand.
"In the water, too, I could at least
struggle—fight for life. But iu that
narrow, clinging grave, every limb
)>ound as with elastic cords, allowing
freedom only to the extent of simply
maddening one, caught like a miserable
lly in a spider's web, I would not even
have the satisfaction of struggling.
"The feeling of fear that first pos
sessed me gradually left, or maybe
numbed my senses, and in its plaee
came strange fancies, such us one
dreams when lying half awake.
"The sun seemed beating its piercing
rays into my brain. The hoarse cry of u
raven far up in the sky came faintly to
inc. I pictured him and his mate, dark
specks showing against a background
of white clouds, floating—Hooting and
v. atching.
"1 wondered if the peek of a raven's
beak on one's head would hurt much—if
they were up there waiting for me to
lie. Then I remembered that before 1
was dead I would be buried!
"I smiled grimly nt the thought of
cheating them. But if they came he
fore? Instinctively I felt for my knife.
I could keep them off with it. My knife!
Like a llush came the thought that it
would be u means of rescue.
"The cloud of fancies seemed to lift
from my brain. With trembling fin
gers, I hurriedly drew it out and opened
it. It was the kind knownamongschool
boys as 'toudstabber,' stout and strong.
"Hopefully, with 011 c hand, 1 felt for
the tree; but I had sunk so fur in the
mud that it was now beyond my reach.
A groan burst through my clenched
teeth, as my last hope fled.
"It seemed as if I must give up. But
life is sweet—so sweet to one about to
lose it. One more effort, then —a re
quiem chanted by the waves and flung
landward by the winds.
"Making a violent struggle, I thrust
my hand that held the knife us tar for
ward us 1 could and struck down with
ull my strength.
"The tree must have been lying
obliquely along the sides of the gully,
so that my left hand had not been able
to roach it; but my right, in which was
the knife, had found it. The blade sunk
into the soft, half-decayed wood. Slip
ping my hand down as closely to tho
tree as possible, so as not to put' the.
knife out, und placing my left hand over
my right, to give myself greater pur
chase, I pulled. Slowly, almost imper
ceptibly, the dreadful sucking power
was lessened—was stopped! Slowly
my arms bent—l was gaining! Wrench
ing tiho knife out, I drove it in farther
up the trunk, repeating this again and
again, for I was able to draw myself
only a few inches ut a time, until I
finally lay my length over the tree—
saved!
"I had thrown the gun high up 011
the flat when. 1 first found that I was
fast. Recovering it now, I gained the
dyke, to fall weak and trembling 011 the
grass. I lay there until tlie tide had risen
to the dyke. Then washing the mud out
of my clothes 1 spread them in the sun
to dry. When 1 had finished it was
flood tide, the water was still and
smooth as a mirror, except where here
aud there mounds of unibcr-colored
foam or a piece of driftwood broke the
surface.
"I shuddered as my eyes, drawn by a
strange fascination, sought out the
spot. How covered by many feet of
water, where a short time before I had
so narrowly escaped a terrible death.
"When I reached my boarding house,
tired and hungry, the harvest moon was
shining brightly. I thought with a
shudder of the cold white glitter of the
wet sands, and how nearly that night
her beams had rested 011 my grave."—
Golden Days.
Stopping a Small Leak.
A Detroit, merchant has been so care
ful in the conduct of his business us to
he afflicted with very few bad accounts.
But there is one citizen who, despite the
fact that his record elsewhere was bad,
managed to get i n debt to the firm.
"I suppose," fuid the bookkeeper, 011
the first of the month, "that we will
send Skinnim that bill regularly for
several months to c ome?"
"No," replied the merchant. "Times
l ave been pretty hard and I guess we'd
better not lose any chance to economize.
Just charge what he owes to profit nnd
loss and pay 110 more attention to him.
It'll save ink and a good deal of wear
end teur on the pens."—Detroit Free
Press.
A CHILD'S LESSON.
Far down In the silent ocean.
Where the sunbeams never fall,
Never comes the storm's commotion.
Dwells the coral Insect small.
Days, and months, and years are passiray,
Still ho climbs to roach the sun;
Every hour his work is growing
Till the coral reef is dene.
Upward slowly, ah! but surely
Climbs he brighter every year;
From this little coral insect
Let us lourn to persevere.
CANINE VOCALIST.
Tennessee llu:t a Dog of Whom the People
Are Justly l'roud.
While on u trip through Moore coun
ty, Tenn., recently, I was the guestof
Rev. Frank M. Downing, who lives in
the neighborhood of a. small settlement
called County Line. Ilis family con
sists of himself and wife and a- small
yellow dog, which I noticed received
an unusual amount of care and atten
tion. As there was nothing particular
ly attractive about the dog, which was
only a mongrel cur, J. rather wondered
at their manifest affection, and one day
inquired the reason for it. Mr. Down
ing, for answer, called: "Bench!" and
placed him in a chair, commanding him
to "crow." My astonishment was un
bounded when the dog gave a perfect
imitation of a Shanghai rooster, and
without further command followed ii
■with the neigh of a horse, lowing of
cows, grunts and squeals of pigs, whin
ing of eats, and various noises incident
to farm life. lie could give all ttfie
yelps of a pack of hounds in pursuit of
a fox, and in so realistic a manner t-har
you could scarcely help believing that
a hunt was in progress.
Mr. Downing sr.id nobody had taught
the animal, and his peculiar imitative
powers were discovered by accident
The summer previous, when Bench wh
a mere puppy, Rev. John Malcol th
preacher for their circuit, was V at
Downing's house, and was made ex
tremely nervous nt night by a rooster
crowing at all hours beneath his win
dow. The people who were attending
him could not discover the rooster, but
one morning Mrs. Downing, in passing
the window, was startled by seeing the
puppy throw back his head and crow.
She hastened to relate the circum
stances to her husband, who was in
credulous and carefully watched the
dog. He quickly corroborated his wife's
story, and for some time the neighbors
flocked to see the wonderful dog. He
quickly learned to crow at command,
and each day picked up some new
sound. Last November a neighbor of
Mr. Downing carried Bench to Nash
ville while the I'nrntim & Bailey show
was there, and the manager offered a
handsome price for him, saying that lie
was convinced Bench could be taught
to talk, but Mr. Downing refused to give
him up. In appearance Bench is not.
prepossessing, his color being a dirty
yellow, his hair coarse and wiry, his
legs short, and his body rather un
wieldy. In his eyes, however, there
gleams an intelligence almost human.
—St. Louis Globe-Dcmocrat.
SNOW MERRY-GO-ROUND.
Lots of I'un In Townn Where There Are
No 11111:4 to Count Down.
Did you ever hear of a snow merry
pro-round? It's great fun, especially
iu a town where there are no liills to
coast down. One of the readers of the
boys' and prirls' department describes
just how the merry-go-round is made.
A stout post is driven at the center of
a level plot of ground, nnd to the top
of this a long pole or plank is fastened
on u pivot. This is nil that is necessary.
A sled may now he tied to either end
or one ut each end of the pole, und a
'' 'sC~
SNOW MERRY-GO-HOUND.
few boys at the center can keep the
merry-go-round spinning with great,
rapidity. Of course the boys 011 the
sleds, who are called "rushers," have
an exciting ride, and they take turns
occasionally with the "pushers." If
the snow wears out the track can be
iced by pouring water over it nnd let
ting it freeze.—Chicago Record.
A Watch That Speaks.
A wonderful mechanical contrivance
;S announced from Switzerland in the
shape of a watch that calls out the
hours in a voice like that of a human
being. This mechanical curiosity is
the invention of one Cnsimir Livan,
who bases its principles upon his
knowledge of the workings of the pho
nograph. The ease, instead of contain
ing a striking apparatus, us sonic of the
lute costly watches do, is provided with
a phonographic cylinder, which is
fitted with a sensitive photographic
plate, which has received the impres
sion of a human voice before being in
serted in the watch.
Two Mighty Boy Hunters.
There are two boys, aged 35 and IS,
living 011 Bear creek, Pa., who have a
hunting record that would be hard to
surpass. Jll this season Sam, the
younger, has bagged five deer, two old
bears and two cubs, three wildcats,
two foxes, a wild turkey and 50 jmrt
ridges, to nay nothing of rabbits. Ilis
brother Joe has killed four deer, two
bears, three wildcats, three foxes and
(.0 partridges, and trapped three minks.
Joe has not much time to hunt, as he is
busy getting out railroad tics, but ho
thinks he has doue "pretty well, con
sidering."
THE BRAVE ELEPHANT.
Obedient and Faithful In the Midst of a
Fierce l ight.
In some countries in Asia an elephant
is made to carry the flag in battles.
This is because the eloi>hant is so tal!
and the soldiers can easily see the flag
flying from his baclc.
One of these elephants, which be
longed to the Poona host, was very
brave and very kind, but he would obey
tlie. order of no one except his mahout,
or driver.
One time, while a very tierce light
was raging, the driver called out to him:
"Stand, my brave beast, stand!" A
moment later the mahout received a
fatal wound, and fell to the ground,
where he lay beneath a pile of wounded
and slain.
The obedient animal would not move,
though the battle raged wildly around
him. The Poona soldiers, who feared
they were being overcome, were
cheered on by the sight of the flag still
floating from his back.
He never stirred a foot, and all
through the hot. fight, the noise, the
smoke, the confusion, listened patient
ly for the voice of his master.
Sharp spears were hurled at him, a
score of javelins pierced liis sides, his
long ears dripped with blood, but he
stood like a rock.
"Como forward, my men!" cried the
Poona captain; "our flag still floats,
and the battle will yet be ours."
His men, discouraged and ready to
fly, rallied at. this command, and with a
cheer for the flag pressed forward.
In a short time they had won tin
victory, and put the enemy to flight.
And then they gathered around the
brave elephant, offering to lend him
where lie could be fed and eared for.
Hut, though wounded and worn, tin
obedient creature would not move tin
til he heard liis master's voice. Tliu;
master could never speak again.
A rider was sent in great haste to r
place 5!) miles away, where lived tin
driver's little son, whom the c-lephnn
knew and loved.
When the little hoy was brought tt
the battle-ground the elephant showed
very plainly that he was glad to so?
him, and permitted the child to lend
him away. —Jennie S. Judson, in Oui
Little Ones.
THE VISITING SPARROW.
110 Spent the Winter in Captivity, Ilut
Flew Awiiy in Spring.
A few years ago a lady living in tin
Via Vollurno, in Home, had some pel
canaries in cages, which she e\cry day
hung out on a balcony in front of her
kitchen window. She observed a spar
row frequently come and perch on one
of the cages, and one evening, v.hoi.
she brought in her birds, she unawares,
brought in also the little wild visitor
perched on its favorite cage. It showed
no fear, and peeked the crumbs sin
offered it. Evening after evening the
same bird continued to come in with
its imprisoned friend.
An empty cage with food was left
near, and in this it made its abode a!
night, the door always being left open.
Spring cuine and the sparrow flew away.
Then the summer passed, and with the
shortening days she returned, boldly
entering the kitchen, surrounded by a
brood of four or five little sparrows.
She had come, it seemed, to greet her
old friend and introduce her treasures
to her. They all conlidingly ate the
crumbs scattered for them on the
kitchen floor. Soon winter came, and
with it the sparrow again as an estab
lished lodger with board. Again the
soft breeze of n southern spring whis
pered of new nests and broods, and the
sparrow flew away, but to return no
more. —London Spectator.
A Strange Cane of Instinct.
A strange instance of animal instinct
occurred at the Theater Koyal, Middles
borough, England, dm ing the perform
ance of a pantomime. In the panto
mime is introduced a miniature circus
with ponies, baboon and a donkey.
While putting the baboon through its
paces the trainer noticed how eagerly
it sought the footlights and scanned the
first row of the stalls. A seafaring
man, who was evidently the object of
interest to the baboon, uttered a pe
culiarly distinctive cry, when instantly
the baboon sprang across the foot
lights into his arms. An inquiry on the
part of the acting manager elicited t he
extraordinary fact that the seaman had
originally brought, the baboon from its
native laud, but that was several years
ago.
How a I.lon Caught a Pillow.
An English officer was shooting re
jently in Somalilund, Africa. One night
when he was in bed, inside his tenr,
x lion sprang over the rough thorn
fence which had been thrown ii|>
around the encampment. Instead of
picking up c.ie of the men or animals,
that liiust have been lying about asleep
inside the fence, the beast made for
the sportsman's tent and seized him—
fortunately by the hand only. Then,
by some wonderful piece of luck, as tho
lion changed its grip for the man's
■ihoulder, it. grabbed the pillow in
dead, and so vanished with its prize.
The. pillow was found next morning
■several hundred yurds distant in the
jur.^ie.
THE POET'S CORNER.
••Home Ih Whore the Loved Oikm Are.*
Tho' noTth or south, or east or west,
Our f.et may wander, near or far,
This truth is borne In ev'ry breast—
Our home is where our loved ones are
Four walls upreared by human hands
Form not the place that we call home;
We turn to them in stranger lands,
We yearn for them where'er we roam,
Because the hearts that love and liv—
Because the hearts wo know are true
Aro gathered there and wait t< give
A welcome when our Journey's through.
But if, by homcv/ard-gazlng eyes,
No face is at tho window seen,
And, dumb of heart, we look where lies
A mound, a sacred spot of green,
Oh, weary soul! remember this:
A second truth our Father given*
The heart that loves, immortal is—
Tho heart that loves forever lives!
Above the blue, beyond the vail,
Our falt'rlng feet must Journey far;
We'll find our home—we cannot fall—
Fcr home is wh< re our loved ones are!
—William Wallace Cook, in Ladles'
World.
Tlio (all.
The city claims the winter, bo it so,
But when the sky is full of songs and
wings,
The valleys fragrant with bright bloom
ing things,
To nnture's glad republic thou shouldst go.
There Inspiration drops from the young
morn;
There noons are like full urns pressed
down with life;
There doth the past with many sorrows
rife
Fall shriveled off and leave the soul new
born.
Hark to the call from many a dusky wood,
From spicy pastures drowsing in the sun,
From lilied streams that through the
meadows run.
Come, live with us, and we will do thee
good.
—Mary F. Butts, in Youth's Companion
Pink Hyacinths.
An odorous breath of blossoms pure and
sweet.
Pink hyacinths that come when spring
winds blow.
And star the emerald grass about our feet,
Where late has lain the mantle of the
snow.
I stoop and pluck one dainty, waxlike
bloom,
That blushes with the hue of early dawn,
And us I breathe lt3 subtly sweet perfume,
I sigh to think of springtimes that are
gone.
But flowers will bloom with each returning
spring.
And robbins nest with every maiden year:
Then why should we not tune our hearts
and sing,
Nor sigh for music fled and spring flowers
—Minnie Quinn, in N. Y. Independent
Adversity.
Wo fret and fear if all the year
is not a panoruma gay;
Our fond hopes die, we weep and sigh
When dark night follows day.
If winter's snow would never blow,
llow could wo love the warmth of June?
If ne'er the night our day would blight
Wo could not prize tho light of noon.
If nn'er friends our trust would rend,
Could wo tho worth of true l'rionds know'
Our hearts could bless no kind caress
If 'twere not for some cfruel blow.
The day of light must follow night
As did I ho grand creation's dawn;
Our hearts must wait for fortune's state,
Success is from affliction drawn.
So bide tho hours, though smiling flowers
Do not always the path adorn;
Our hardest trials are fortune's wilP9,
Tho sWcctest rose blooms on the thorn.
—Sidney iiculd, in Chicago Inter Ocean.
Beneath the Sod.
I saw tho mortal laid beneath the sod,
With enrven cross above her breast.
I knew the immortal spirit was with Cod,
A bright, pure soul had gained eternal
rest,
First of a band of fylends to pass away,
Her busy, useful life on earth is done;
landed forever Is her toilsome day,
For her the promised rest bus now begun.
I stood and hoard t!.c solemn accents full,
"1 am the resurrection and tho life,"
(Jod, whose great mercy watches over all,
llad t'en my friend from out our earthly
strife.
We left her lying in her peaceful bod,
Until the dawning of that lust great day.
Trusting In One who long ago hath suid
Thut lie will wipe all bitter teursaway.
—The Academy.
If I Were Ten.
If I wore ten, my dear like you,
Tho sky, methinks, wore ulwuys blue,
The hours would ne'er seem duli and dut
For every day I'd seo the sun
Como out and gild the world anew.
And everything I heard were true,
There were not aught to mourn, undo,
I scarce would know the things to shun
if 1 were ten.
And yet, perhaps, if I could woo
Your age again, I'fl long with rue
To see the years and birthdays run
Until my place to-day were won.
I'd have a different point of view
If I were ten.
-Sketch.
The Average Muu.
I very much udiniro many traits that 1
possess.
And though f blush to suy it, still I candidly
confess
There's lots I like uhout me; and while
other folks may see
Things in a very different light, I'm really
pleased witli me.
It's true my thoughts, my words, my deeds,
my figure and my face
May to the careless c-ye appear as only
commonplace.
But that's because I throw üboul my noble
ness of mind
A meek and modest air that mukes my
greatness hard to find.
—L. A. W. Bulletin
Forgive.
Walt not the morrow, but forgive me now;
Who knows wltut fato to-morrow's dawn
may bring?
Lot us not part with shadow on thy brow,
With my heart hungering.
Wait not tho morrow, but entwine thy
hand
In mine with sweet forgiveness full and
free;
Of all life's joys I only understand
Tliis joy of loving thee.
Ferhaps some day I may redeem the wrong,
Repair tho fault—l know not when or
how.
Oh, dearest, do not wait—it may bo long-
Only forgive mo now.
—London Academy.
The Secret.
'Twas first her eyes that won his heart;
And next her airy wit
Caused him to grieve when they must
part-
So true-love knots are knit.
Yet laughing (Acs and dainty Jest,
Though potent in their way,
Are not the means that serve her best
In holding to her sway.
Love lingers now, through years that
make
A havoc sad with others,
For she can make a batter cake
That's better than his mother's.
—WoA'.'dugtoa^tan
What is
Castoria is Dr. Samuel Pitchor's prescription for Infants
and Children. It contains neither Opium, Morphine nor
other Narcotic substance. It is a harmless substitute
for Paregoric, Drops, Soothing Syrups, and Castor Oil.
It is Pleasant. Its guarantee is thirty years' use by
Millions of Mothers. Castoria destroys Worms and allays
fevcrislincss. Castoria prevents vomiting Sour Curd,
cures Diarrhoea and Wind Colic. Castoria relieves
teething troubles, cures constipation and llatulency.
Castoria assimilates the food,' regulates the stomach
and bowels, giving healthy aud natural sleep. Cas*
toria is the Children's Panacea—the Mother's Friend.
Castoria. Castoria.
" Castoria li an excellent medlclno for ckil- "Castoria is BO well adapted to children that
dren. Mothers have repeatedly told me of its r munimrll> | ie as superior toauy prescription
good effect upon their children/* kuowu to me."
DR. G. C. OSGOOD, IT. A. AncnEß, M. D.,
Lowell, Muss. 11l So. Oxford St., llrooklyu, N. Y.
•' Castoria is the best remedy for children of " Our physicians in the children's depart
which I am acquainted. I hope tho day is not ment have spoken highly of their expert
far distant when mothers will consider the real enco in their outside pructiee with Castoria,
Interest of their children, and use Castoria in- and although wo only have among our
stead of the vuriousquack nostrums which are medical supplies what is known as regular
destroying their loved ones, by forcing opium, products, yet wo are free to coufess that the
morphine, soothing syrup and other hurtful merits of Castoria has won us to look with
agents down their throats, thereby sending favor upon it."
them to premature graves." UNITED HOSPITAL AND DISPENBARV,
DR. J. F. KINCIIELOE, Boston, Mass.
Conway, Ark. ALLEN C. SMITH, 2Yes.,
The Centanr Company, 71 Murray Street, Now York City*
PEIRCE SCHOOL
32d Year.
A representative American Business
School for both sexes.
RECORD BUILDING,
917-919 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia.
THOMAS MAY PEIEOE, A.M.,Ph.D.,
Founder and Principal.
1865-1096.
A Systematic Business Training
Coupled with u practical, sound and useful
English education.
Three full courses :
BUSINESS,
SHORTHAND AND TYPEWRITING,
ENGLISH.
The whole constituting an Ideal Combination.
Graduates Cheerfully Assisted lo Positions.
Visitors welcome, especially during school
hours, day or evening sessions.
Call or write for School Literature.
DAY CESSIONS, '9G-'D7, boffin Monday, August 31,1836.
NI3HT SESSIONS, Monday, Ceptomtor 21, 2696.
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Wo will save you from $lO to SSO. Everything in
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by express and allow a full examination, if not.
right return atour expense. Now isn't that fairi'
Write us. Brewster Vehicle Co., Holly, Mich.
B I CYCLISTS !
Encyclopedia, how toenro for and repair Tires,
('hams, Bearings, etc. 150 vuluablo pointers for
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a day. Agts. wanted. 10 fast seller
Big money for Agts. t 'atalog FKHft
E. E. Brewster, llolly, Mich.
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Result.
Upon tlielr wheels one day they met;
They wheeled into a marriage;
She gave it up; he's wheeling yet-
But now a baby carriage.
| j—To Date.
Durlng the QuurroL
lie—l confess that Ido not compre
hend yon.
She (frigidly)—l thought I had made
myself perfectly plain.
He—Ah! But 3 011 couldn't do that,
Alice.
lteconciliation follows. —St. Louis He
public.
Brought to Titue.
Dentist's Daughter (who hears her
fat her approaching)—Oh, dear Edwnrtl,
here comets my father! If he should
find us together here we are lost! Oh,
he is coming! You will have either to
aslc for my hand, or let him pull out
a tooth for you.—Tit-Bits.
Tho Pity of it. '
First Swell—There goes Miller,jtlic
richest liinn in town. W hat a pity tin
old man has no daughter! Don't you
think so?
Second Swell— l don't know. Why?
First Swell—Because she would make
such a good wife for me.—Texas Sifter.
Arithmetical.
Mike—And do yez see Mr. Peek's four
noble children?
Put—How do yez know they be Mr.
Peck's child tjpn?
Mike—Sure, and don't yez know that
four small measures make a peck?—
Demorest's Magazine.
Two lCxtremes.
Johnny Smart—What does * b-l-e-r
spell?
Old Smart—That depends, my (BOH, on
who is spelling it. If it is a (icrman it
is about the first thing that he. wants;
if it's an Englishman it's the lust thing
he wants. —Philadelphia Item.,
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When you arc about to buy a Sewing Machine
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WRBTE FOR CIRCULARS.
1 THE HEW HOME SEWING MACHINE CO.
j O&AMOB, M MAS* N. Y
E. ALE B Y
D. S. Evving, general agent,
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ails you?
I Ms? axsij
I HI mK
S Heartburn—Bad Taste in the Mouth/
in the Morning Palpitation of the?
Ileari, due i" Hisi-nsioti of Stomach c
Cankered Mouth Gas in the Bowels/
I 1 —Loss di" Flesh Fickle Appetite
S Depressed, Irritable Condition of the s
p Mind Dizziuess -Ilvatlachc -Con- >
1/ stipation or Diarrhaa? Then you have \
< DYSPEPSIA {
?In r.ne of Its many forms. The one positive I
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Jeter's Dyspepsia Cablets (
C l>v until, prepaid, on receipt of cents. C
\ckcr MIL Untie Co. KI-TH Clin inkers St., N. Y. J
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