'’OUT OF THV LIFE."
"Chi! of tkt life." rotild I lint And
Whrre the water* of Isuhe rim.
Like some pilgrim of old without allrer or (Ota!
1 would jonrury from sun to sun.
Iji quest of thst font t hath not seen.
Vet folded In soon sad pro**.
But with water* so sweet and limpid, I WOWS
As dew on the heart of a rose.
■ ir
1
J|
fe
C
X would* Journey unaided save by the itumv
Sowrr* pausing to break my vast,
O etvou.ing all rov progress burn.
I would drink und forget at lust.
Onward, famished for life's nwwtput good.
Onward through forest anil glen,
(n searched Let ho, that prlmitM food
For Uin kont aud daughters of men.
'-Washington Star.
THE MISADVENTURES
OF JOBS NICHOLSON.
IU FOHKItr I.UUIH STKVKNSO.N,
r-r
6
l:.
k.;\
a;; ■
f; •
i:
John now
tho hand
CHAPTER II—CONTINUED.
Iff was a young man on whom, at
the highest point of lovely exaltation,
there had fallen a blow too sharp to
bo supported alone; and not many
hundred yards away his greatest
friend was sitting at supper; aye, und
even expecting him. Was it not in
the nature of man that, hi' should run
there!’ He went in quest of sympathy
■—in quest of that droll artiolo that
we all suppose ourselves to want
when in a strait, and have agreed
to call advice; und I10 went, besides,
with vague hut rather splendid ex
pectations of relief. Alan was rich,
or would bo so when he eaino of age.
By a stroke of tho pen he might
remedy this misfortune, and avert
that dreaded Interview with Mr.
Nicholson, from which
shrunk in imagination us
draws back from Are.
Close under tho Calton Hill there
run* a certain narrow avenue, part
street, part by-road. Tho head of it
faces the doors of the prison; its tail
descends into the sunless slums of
Low' Calton. On one hand it is over
hung by the crags of the hill; on the
Other by an old. graveyard. , Between
these “two tho roadway runs in u
trench, sparsely lighted ut night,
sparsely frequented by day and
bordered, when it was cleared the
place tombs, by dingy and ambiguous
houses. Ono of these was tho house
of Colette, and at his door our ill
starred John was presently beating
for admittance. In un evil hour lie
gratified the inquiries of the contra
band hotel-keeper; in an evil hour lie
penetrated into a somewhat unsavory
Interior.’ Alan, to be sure, was there,
seated in a room lighted by noisy gas
jets, beside a dirty table-cloth, en
gaged on a coarse meal, and in the
company of several tipsy members of
the Junior bar. But Alan was not
sober; he had lost a thousand
pounds on a horse-race, had received
the nqws at dinner-time, and was now,
in default ofany possible means of
extrication, drowning the memory of
his predicament. Ha to help John!
The thing was impossible; he couldn't
help himself.
“If you have a beast of a father,'’
said he, “I can tell you 1 have u brute
of a trustee." , ,,
“I’m not going to hear my father
called a beast;" said John, with a
beating heart, feeling that he risked
the last sound rivet of the chain that
bound him to life.
But Alan was -quite good-natured.
“All right, old fellow,” said he.
“Mos’ respec'able man, your father.”
Aud he introduced his friend to his
companions as “old Nicholson, the
what-d'ye-call-urn's son.”
John sat in dumb agony. Colette's
foul walls and maculate table linen,
and even down to Colette's villainous
caster*, seemed like objects In a
nightmare. And just then there came
a knock and a scurrying; the poliee.
so lamentably absent from the Calton
Hill, appeared upon the scene, and
the party,'taken flagrante delicto,
with their glasses at their elbow,
were seized, marched up to the police
office, and all duly summoned to ap
jj pear as witnesses in the subsequent
case against the areh-shebeener,
Colette.
It was a sorrowful and a mightily
sobered company that came forth
again. The vague terror of public
opinion weighed generally on them
all; but there were private and partic
ular horrors on the minds of individ
;v'i uals. Alan stood iu dread of his
» ,>, trustee, already sorely tried. One of
the group was a sou of a country
minister, another of a judge; John,
the unhappiest of all, had David
Nicholson to father.the Idea of facing
whom on such a scandalous subject
[y,
j •
rf <
■f»>. <
i*
fc: ■
£
«»» puysicany sioaening. They
stood awhile consulting' under the
buttresses of Saint Giles; thence they
adjourned to the lodgings of one of
the number In North Castle street,
where, for that matter, they might
have had quite as good a supper, and
far better drink, than in the danger
ous paradise from which they had
been routed. There, over an almost
tearful glass, they debated their posi
tion. Each explained he had the
world to lose if the affair went on,
and be appeared as a witness. It was
remarkable what bright prospects
were just then in the act of opening
before each of that little company of
youths, and what pious consideration
for the feelings of their families be
gan now to well from them. Each,
moreover, was la an odd state of des
titution. Not one could bear his
Share of the fine; not one but evinced
a wonderful twinkle of hope that
each of the others (in succession)
was the very .agan who could step in
to make good the deficit. One took a
high hand; he could not pay his share:
if it went to.a trial, he should bolt:
he had always felt the English bar tc
be his true sphere. Another branched
out into touching details about hi>
family, and was not listened to. John,
in the midst of this disorderly cornpe
titlon of poverty and meanness, sal
stunned, contemplating the mountait
bulk of his misfortune.
• Y.-J
lit, 3?
&
At last, upon a pledge that each
should apply to his family with a
common frankness, this convention
of unhappy young asses broke up,
went down the common stair, and in
the gray of the spring morning, with
the streets lying dead empty all about
them, the lamps burning on into the
daylight in diminished lustre, and the
birds beginning to sound premonitory
notes from the groves of the town
gardens, went each his own way, with
bowed head and echoing footfall.
The rooks were awake in Randolph
Crescent; but the windows looked
down, discroetly blinded,on the return
of the prodigal. John’s pass key was a
recent privilege; this was the first
time it had been used: and, oh! with
what a sickening sense of his nn
worthiness he now inserted it into
the well-oiled lock and entered that
citadel of the proprieties! All slept;
the gas in the hall had been left
faintly burning to light his return; a
dreadful stillness reigned, broken by
the deep ticking of the eight-day
clock. lie put the gas out, and sat
on u chair in the hall, waiting and
counting the minutes, longing for any
human countenance, lint when at
last he heard the alarm spring its
rattle in the lower story, and the
servants begin to lx? about, lie in
stantly lost heart and fled to his own
room, where ho threw himself upon
the bed.
CHAPTER Ilf.
In Which John Enjoys the Harvest
Home.
Shortly after breakfast, at which
he assisted with a highly tragical
countenance,, John sought his father
whore ho sat, presumably in religious
meditation on the ,Subbath mornings.
The old gentleman looked up with
that sour, inquisitive expression that
came so near to smiling und was so
different in effect.
•‘This is a time when I do not like
to bo disturbed," he suid.
■•I know that,” returned John, “but
I have—I wunt—I’ve made u dreadful
mess of it,” he broke out. and turned
to the window.
Mr. Nicholson sat silent for an ap
preciable time, while his unhappy son
surveyed the poles in the back green,
and a certain yellow cat that was
perched upon the wall. Despair sat
upon John as ho gazed: and he raged,
to think of the dreadful series of his
misdeeds, and the essential innocence
that lay behind them.
“Well,” said the father, with an
obvious effort, “what is it:’”
“Maclean gave me four hundred
pounds to put in the bunk, sir,” be
gan John; “and I'm sorry to say that
I’ve been robbed of it!”.
“Robbed of it?” cried Mr. Nichol
son, with a strong rising inflection.
“Robbed? Be careful what you say,
John!”
"I can’t say anything else, sir; I
was just robbed of it,” said John, in
desperation, sullenly.
“And where and when did this ex
traordinary event take place?” in
quired the father.
“On the Callon Hill about twelve
last night.”
“The C'alton Hill?” repeated Mr.
Nicholson. “And what were you
doing there at such a timo of night?”
“Nothing, sir,” says John.
Mr. Nicholson drew in his breath.
“And how came the money in your
hands at twelve lastnight?” he asked,
sharply.
“I neglected that piece of business,”
said John, anticipating comment; and
then in his own dialect: “I clean for
got all about it.”
“Well,” said his father, “it’s a
most extraordinary story. Have you
communicated with the police.”
“I have,” answered poor John, the
blood leaping to his face. “They
think they know the man that did it.
I dare say the money will be re
covered, if that was all," said he.
with a desperate indifference, which
his father set down to levity; but
which sprung from the consciousness
of worse behind.
“Your mother's watch, too?” asked
Mr. Nicholson.
“Oh, the watch is all right,” cried
John. “At least, I mean I was com
ing to the watch—the fact is, I am
ashamed to say, I—I had pawned the
watch before. Here is the ticket:
they didn't find that ; the watch can
be redeemed; they don’t sell pledges."
The lad panted out these phrases,
one after another, like minute guns:
but at the last word, which rang in
that stately chamber like an oath, his
heart failed him utterly: and the dread
ed silence settled on father and son.
It was broken by Mr. Nicholson
picking up the pawn ticket: “John
I Eroggs, 85 Pleasance." he read, and
then, turning upon John with a brief
flash of passion and disgust, “Who is
John Froggs?” he cried.
“Nobody,” said John,
just a name.”
“It was
“An alias.” his father commented.
••Oh! I think scarcely quite that,”
said the culprit; “It’s a form, they
all do it, the man seemed to under
stand, we had a great deal of fun
over the name”—
He paused at that, for lie saw his
father wince at the picture like a man
physically struck; and again there was
silence. ?v.,
••I do not think," said Mr. Nichol
son. at last, "that I a man ungenerous
father. I have never grudged you
money within reason, for any avow
able purpose; you have just to
come to me and speak: And now I
find that you have forgotten all de
cency and all natural feeling, and
actually pawned — pawned — your
mother's watch. You must have had
some temptation; I will do you the
justice to suppose it was a strong one.
What did you want with this money?”
“I would rather uot tell you,” said
John, “It will only make you angry.”
“I will not be fenced with,” cried
his father. “There must be an end
of disingenuous answers. What did
you want with this money?”
“To lend it to Houston, sir,” say*
John.
••I thought I had forbidden you to
speak to that young man?” asked his
father. l
“Yes, sir,” said John, “but I only
met him.”
“Where?” came the deadly ques
tion.
I "In a billiard room.” was the
damning answer. Thus, had
John's single departure from
the truth brought instant
punishment. For no other purpose
but to see Alan would he have entered
a billiard room; but he had desired to
palliate the fact of his disobedience,
! and now it happened that he fre
quented these disreputable haunts
upon his own account.
Once more Mr. Nicholson digested
the vile tidings in silence, and when
John stole a glance at his father's
countenance he was abashed to see
the marks of suffering.
“Well,” said the old gentleman at
last, “I cannot pretend not to be
simply bowed down. I rose this morn
ing what the world calls a happy man
—happy, at least, in a son of whom I
I thought I could be reasonably
proud”
But it was beyond human nature to
endure this longer, and .John inter
rupted almost with a scream. ••Oh.
wheest!” he cried. ••That's not all!
That's not the worst of it! It's noth
ing! How could I tell you were proud
of me? Oh! I wish. I wish that I had
known! But you always said that I
was such u disgrace! And the dread
ful thing is this: \Ve were all taken
up last night, and we have to pay
Colette’s fine among the six,or we’ll bo
had up for evidence—shebeening it is.
They made me swear to tell you. But
for my part.” he cried, bursting into
tears, “I wish that I was dead!” and
he fell on his knees before a chair and
hid his face.
Whether his father spoke, and
whether ho remained long in the room,
or at once departed, are points lost to
history. A horrid turmoil of mind
and body; bursting sobs; broken, van
ishing thoughts, now of indignation,
now of remorse; broken elementary
whiffs of consciousness, of the smell
of the horse-hair on the chair bottom;
of the jangling of church bells that
now began, to make day horrible
throughout the confines of the city;
of the harif floor that bruised his
knees; of the taste of tears that found
their way into his mouth; for a period
of time, the duration of which I can
not guess, while I refuse to dwell
longer on its agony, these were the
whole of God’s world for John Nichol
son.
When at last, as by the touching of
a spring, he returned again to clear
ness of consciousness and even a meas
ure of composure, the bells had but
just done ringing, and the Sabbath
silence was still marred by the patter
of belated feet. By the clock above
the fire, as well as by these more
speaking signs, the service had not
long begun; and the unhappy sinner,
if his father had really gone tocVtrch,
might count on near two hours of
only comparative unhappiness. With
his father, the superlative degree re
turned infallibly. He knew it by
every shrinking liber in his body; he
knew it by the sudden dizzy whirling
of his brain, at the mere thougflt of
that calamity. An hour and a half,
perhaps an hour and three-quarters,
if tlie doctor was long-winded, and
then would begin again that active
agony from which, even in the dull
ache of the present, he shrank as from
the bite of fire. He saw, in a vision,
the family pew, the somnolent
cushions, the Bibles, the psalm books,
Maria with her smelling salts, his
father sitting spectacled and critical,
and at once he was struck with in
dignation, not unjustly. It was
inhuman to go off to church,
and leave a sinner in suspense, un
punished. unforgiven. And at the
very touch of criticism, the paternal
sanctity was lessened; yet the pater
nal terror only grew, and the two
strands of feeling pushed him in the
same direction.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
oeauy i,iua « uenevoienre.
The Century is printing u series of
papers on Notable Women. We quote
from the paper on “Jenny Lind:”
••'Oie entire proceeds of the American
tour, amounting to more than £20,
000, were devoted by Jenny Lind to
various benevolent objects. From
the days of her early girlhood it had
been her chief delight to use for the
good of others the wealth which her
genius had brought her. !She was
ever ready to sing for a hospital, or a
college, or a poor fellow-artist, or for
the chorus,orchestra.or scene-shifters
of the theaters where she appeared.
‘Is it not beautiful that I can sing po?’
she exclaimed when she was told that
a large number of children would be
saved from wretchedness by a con
cert she had given for their benefit.
The volumes which contain such a re
cord might well bear the label which
Jenny Lind’s old Swedish guardian
placed around the packet containing
her letters to him, ‘The mirror of a
noble soul.'"
A Platn-SpokoA I.luguin:.
A little Russian boy who has a
French governess and is always
obliged to talk French, was playing
in the barn one day and suddenly* dis
covers that the building Is on fire.
Rushing to the school-room he ex
claims: “Oh, mademoiselle, I don’t
know whether it’s le feu or la feu,
but anyhow there’s a big blase in the
barn!”
A Point in Natural History.
Knowitt—Animals are naturally oi
a quarrelsome disposition. As the
poet says, dogs delight'-to bark and
bite.
Howitt—Yes, and even the oystei
often gets into a broil—Kate Field'i
Washington.
U. ; ■ ts
j'k «i m
THE AGRICULTURAL WORLD
MATTERS OF MOMENT TO THE
RURAL READERS.
j Instructive Notes Regarding the
| Culture of Potatoes—Why Pigs
are Scarce—Farm Fertiliza
tion-Shallow Culture of
Corn—A Few Pointers.
; Jnatrsctlve Rotes Regarding Pota
toes.
Prof. J. Troop, of Indiana Experi
ment Station, La Fayette, Ind., writes
Orange Judd Farmer: Fanners are
beginning to inquire concerning the
best varieties of potatoes to plant, etc.,
and a query now before me reads In
this way: “What varieties of potatoes
do you consider the best, and what
kind of fertilizers should be used in or
der to produce the best results?’’ Po
tatoes will not always give equally
gOOU results OU Ull KIWIS Ol suns, muni
of which is doubtless due to the
pressure of excessive moisture or ab
sence of the proper kinds of elements
In the soil. Many of these questions
can be best answered by the /farmer
by trying experiments in a small way
in order to determine whether his soil
is deficient In either of the principal
elements of plant food which are es
sential to the production of a maxi
mum crop of potatoes. The three prin
cipal elements, and those most liable to
become exhausted by cropping, are
potash, phosphoric -acid and nitrogen.
On new land, laud which has been re
cently cleared, these elements are
usually present in abundance, and
every farmer knows that sueh land,
under ordinary circumstances, will
usually produce an Abundant crop of
potatoes without further enriching.
But it often happens that one or more
of these substances becomes exhausted
by cropping, and it Is necessary to re
sort to barn manure or commercial
fertilizers to supply the deficiency.
Good barn manure contains all the
elements of plant, food, but often in
varying quantities. If, therefore, the
farmer wishes to ascertain the true
condition of his soil, so far as these
elements are concerned, he must use
fertilizers of known strength, and use
them separately as well as in combina
tion. These are found on the market,
in the form of sulphate or muriate of
potash, bone black or Iwue meal, and
nitrate of soda or sulphate of ammonia,
etc. To make a test of this kind take
five plats of equal size and apply broad
cast at the following rate per acre:
To plat 1, 150 pounds of sulphate of
potash, 750 pounds of bone black, 280
pounds of nitrate of soda, all combined.
On plat 2 apply just one-half this
amount. This will give a hint as to
actual' amount needed by the crop. On
plat 3 omit the potash, applying the
other two as before. On plat 4 omit
the bone black and on plat 5 omit the
nitrate of soda. The results at harvest
time will show whether the soil Is de
ficient In one or more of these ele
ments, and which one. Sueh an experi
ment as this can be tried by almost
any farmer at slight cost, and, in many
cases at least, the Information obtained
concerning the condition and needs of
his soil will be worth many times the
cost of the experiments. If, however,
this is thought to be too much trouble,
then a complete fertilizer should be
used.
Our varietal tests in 1892 comprise
more than one hundred varieties, and
were conducted on a rather heavy,
black, sandy loam, underlaid with
gravel: not a first-class potato soil, yet,
as swill be seen, the yields were quite
satisfactory In most cases. Of the
whole number tested there are proba
bly twenty-five varieties which have
not proved of any special value on our
soil. Below Is given a list of twenty
five of our best varieties which have
been grown in the same field for four
years In succession. And also twenty
five varieties which were grown here
for the first time last season, the most
qf which seem to be excellent. It will
be noticed that the yield of those
grown but a single season (in the first
column) is much greater than the oth
ers; a fact which we have noted be
fore, and which serves to prove again
the advisability of chauging seed often.
Table Showing Yield Per Acre.
Varieties Grown One Year— 1
Early ltose.
Early Market..
Early Minnesota.
Early Wisconsin.
Fill basket.
Hampden Beauty.
Harbinger.
Howe's Premium.
James G. Blaine.
Iaizelle's Seedling.
heather Coat.
McFadden's Earliest....
Noll's Victor.
Parker & Wood's Victor
Pride of St. Paul.
Pride of Ireland.
Signal.
Stanley.
Timp's No. 2.
Tlinp's No. 4.
Timp’s No. 6.
Tonhocks...
Vick's Perfection.
Way.
Umpire.....
Bushels.
.390
.380
.363
.371
.384
.370
.382
.382
.403
.3S4
.386
.384
.410
.410
.375
.342
.384
.363
.350
.346
.384
.373
.384
.303
.350
Varieties Grown Konr Years—
Advance.
Arizona.
Badger State.
Beauty of Hebron.
Breeze.
Burbank.
California ltose...
Dakota Ited...
Early King....
Early Hjnrise.. ..
Early Ontario.
Garfield...
Golden Flesh...
Gov. Rusk..
Great Eastern.
La Fayette.
Mammoth Pearl...
New Giant...
Koae'a Beauty.
Rural New Yorker No. 2.
State of Maine.. ...
Hnrntnn.. ..
Thorbum.
White Kltgihant.
Valley Queen.
l+o
213
274
.223
232
238
.322
/270
.187
.20t;
.263
.200
.233
.28+
.205
.252
.213
.251
.206
.200
.220
.200
.310
.277
Why >Hn Are Srnrre.
Some of the farmers that have no
hogs at present are honest enough to
admit that it is largely owing to their
> careless methods. There apt others
whs have regarded bogs too trouble
some to raise. Still another class lmve
no pigs simply because the necessary
care and thought were not given them.
The tatter class is a large one and its
members are the heaviest losers, hav
ing had the expense of maintaining
brood sows and having money invested.
During the breeding season losses come
from careless mating, in-breeding, use
of poorly bred boars, etc. In the far
rowing season the lack of attention »«<i
poorly arranged pens result in many
pigs being overlain. Pigs, die when
small, from the effects of poor food
given them and their dams, and from
poor shelter, lack of clean bedding,
from drinking unwholesome water,
and from having little sunshine-and ex
ercise. The pigs which lived through
the first month were given corn and
water with their dam instead of food
suited to the building of bone and mus
cle in the pigs and to the production
of milk by the sow. If they had been
given shorts, rye meal, oat meal and
other bone and muscle forming foods
with slops, very different results might
have been obtained. Such troubles as
colds, scours costiveness, etc., are
usually the direct results of careless
feeding or of exposure. In recent years
many farmers have neglected their
hogs that more attention might be
given to grain raising. There are not
enough hogs in the country to supply
the world's demand, and will not be
during the next eighteen months. If
the price of corn remains. below CO
cents per bgshel it will pay to hold
hogs during the coming year until they
reach 300 pounds weight, provided one
fourth of this growth is made from
clover or other grasses.
Farmers Should Be Progressive.
Whenever a body of farmers en
gaged in any branch of agriculture get
together and talk over matters one
would think theirs the only branch of
farming that was worth carrying on.
This is as it should be, as one will al
ways succeed best in that which he be
lieves to be the best. It is not as it.
should be, for when one thinks too
raueh that his is the only thing worth
doing he is apt to be narrow In his
views and selfish In his regard for the
rights of others. We want broad-mind
ed. whole-souled farmers—farmers who
love their branch of husbandry and are
willing to help their brother farmers j
in other lines of farming—men who
make the most of their own work, but
accord to others the same right. One
way to accomplish this is to attend
institutes and other meetings where
men engaged In the various branches
of farming are gathered together, and
the largeness and importance of each
is dwelt upon.
Farm Fertilisation.
Many tons of commercial fertilizers
are bought and used by farmers that
cannot afford to use it. Until a farmer
saves and uses all the fertilizers avail
able on the farm, he cannot afford to
purchase fertilizers with his hard
earned dollars at $25 to $40 a ton.
It will pay to dig out the soli under
the stables in many instances and
spread it on the land, as it contains a
great deal of ammonia and othes ele
ments of fertility. Use the manure
from the hen-house on hills of com
and potatoes, or in the garden, and it
will give excellent results.
If a farmer will keep his eyes open
he will discover fertilizing material
about his farm going to waste in suffi
cient quantities to grow quite a field of
corn.
. Some way ought to be devised for
saving all the liquids about the stable,
as it is worth nearly, if not quite, as
much as the solids.
Shallow Cnltare of Cora.
Writing of the shallow culture of
com a writer in Orange Judd Farmer
says: For many miles around Mendota, |
HL, most of the com is grown by shal- |
low culture. Very few if any of the i
farmers who have used this method !
would agree to cultivate deeply even I
If the best deep cultivator made was
given them gratuitously. To me it
seems strange that shallow culture Is
not more generally practiced all over
the .country. In La Salle and adjoin
ing counties the superiority of the
method has been for many years fully
demonstrated, and, by Its universal
adoption, many millions of bushels bf
com would be added to our present an
nual yield.
A Few Pointers.
Make hotbeds now.
Oet the seeder in order before need
ed.
Hhode Island has 12,260 sheep, Del
aware is next to the foot with 13,551.
Uet up the summer’s supply of wood
before you are rushed with the spring
work.
Work up the wood while other work
has to stand still because of the spring
mud.
Ohio stands at the head of the list
in the number of sheep with 4,378,725;
Texas is a close second with 4,334,551.
Where is your plow? What condi
tion is it in? Do not wait to find out
till ready to use unless you know just
how it is. ’
In some things overproduction can
he remedied In a single season, but
with cattle this could not be done,
without serious loss, Inside of several
years.
Iowa leads all the states In the num
ber of her hogs, having Jan. 1, 6,181,.
628; Missouri comes ^second, with two
thirds as many, 4,076,391!.
Do not let the young calf get chilled
and stunted. It Is hard work to get
money back out of a calf that Is once
stunted. It takes a deal of petting and
coaxing and then often fulls to come.
Some farmers buy too much ma
chinery. Unless a man crops on a
large static he cannot nfTord to buy all
kinds of implements. It pays to use
the best tools, but there is room for the
exercise of Judgment In this matter.
In the process of fattening the
amount of water In apimal tissues is
reduced by fat. If given some moist
food, as roots or silage, cattle that are
belug fattened will drluk very little In
cold weather. lu
The dairyman should have a cow
best adapted to tils business. We di
not want her for beer. We w nt .
small cow. because we can get mon
torgt cow" “ ! iU Su,a*lt!r l'°*t «WU th<
Old-fash^lT^
the style are so
nicknames that are S
Dorothy Is eeSffiSfS
Dot or Dolly. Klizad "11^
no connection with inf"***
Sw*4ssas£g
sssSE^-Ssr
• girl who tear, thena^
or Faith tojiren?^,^
THREE TROI
3 Three things
workingmen knoH
the most trouble y
hard-strain *oA,
Sprains, Bruises,;
Soreness.
THREE RFFLICTIt
—v Three supreme)
V • tions, which all the i
—^ knows afflict mat
a B the most with Ache
Pains are: Rheum
NeuralgiaandLua
THREE THING
3 to do are simply
Buy
‘t. try
itand Ift?
be promptly
and permanent
ly cured by the
usedl
tt Cara CoU;. Inik Ca.-t Amt, Cm. I
WuttmStijfL InaoUttiiaiiiUai.
CnSanaptlnii tetiltfu, tal i biAM
raacat tuigm. Qm at caaa- Totufilwfri
aftrt altar taktaftfca Itatleaa. laUtrMa.,
•tea. Largo tattlaa 50 oaataaadlLW.^ tl
W. L. DOUCI
S3 SHOE .ffV
Do you waartham? Whenncxtlnwltijia
•rill give you mora comfort and aanici tu 4itj
thaaanyotharmaka. Beatlnthta
W. L Magus Sms m mhiv
iatist Stfh*.
If you want a On* DRESS SHOE don't pay #
tiy my $3.50, $4 or $5 Shoo. They will lit
tom made and look and wear ns well. If I* ■
economize In your footwear, you can doeobyp*™
W. L. Douglas Shoos. My name and price < *
on the bottom, look for It when you boy. J** *
stltute. I sand shoos by mall upon receipt a |
postage free, when Shoo Deolers cannot spy,
W. L, DOPOLAfl. Brocktow, Moon
*ISH BR^
ThliTnult Miritnoo — -.
WATERPROOF M
niMtntsd In the Work! I
J. TOWER. BOSTON-'
the b»t
MAS
■F
I
FACTORY
PRICES
ON EAST
Instalment*
Catalogue
, Sold by DFuM'8’*Bj£y^uf ^
s^ssesss^'1
p«rp«lr. ,
cheat meMurr- •td“ £lIt*
,K»i«k«tbecker Brac.C.-11',
A Chance for Shorthand "
A gentleman writes from
that there is a great chant ^ ltj
hand writers in tliat country
lielii i»
ago an examination was ;,j
bourne for shorthand " is(»»
courts, (hit of thirteen ija1
the test of ISO words a nun Jr %
fewer still the test of 1 a*
Thurston, who tried to en^ ^
ographer for correspondency
1W tt/i *vo{
S 1,000 a year and board.
comp*
V•,'0/0 n ,tcoi BUU . ^(>rr
that most of the applicant- ^ ,0 r*
mat most ox tne Itpi'1" . ,rto
ble either to write rapid'.'
their notes afterward-__
When a man tyses his uer»»
goes ia search of a sale-"
