THE WATER LILY,
In th« 'limy bod of sluyvlnh mere
Its root had humblo birth.
And tho slender atom that upward grew
Was coarse of fiber, dull of hue.
With uauxht of grace or worth
The coldflsh that floated near
Saw alone the vulrsr stem
Tho clumsy turtle paddled by.
The water snake with lldlnss eye—* * -
It was only a weed to them
But tho butterfly and honey boo,
The sun end sky and air.
They marked Its heart of virgin sold
In the Satin leaves of spotless fold.
And Us odor rich and rare
So tho frayrant soul In Its purity.
To sordid Hfo tied down.
May bloom to heaven and no man know,
Serin; mo coarse, vllo >tem below.
How Clod hath socn the crown
- James Jeffrey Kocho
A Passive Crime.
BY ••TUB DVCIim"
CHATTER III—Contixced.
•'Mrs. Neville, an unaccountable
pang at her heart, pressed all her
remaining biscuits into the baby's
hands; told the woman to call upon
her next day; board next day the
ebild was an orphan; and the end of
it was, took hor to her house and
heart, to the intense disgust of
numerous nieces and nepheVrs, who
had looked on Mrs. Nevillo as their
joint prey, l'horo you havo the
wholo history, I believe."
••It's a very strange story; she must
have soon a great many pretty chil
dren besides this particular one.
Why did she choose hor?"
••Fancied sho saw in her some re
semblance to a dead sistor. that was
very fondly amd even extravagantly
regretted—your aunt. Mrs. Fenrud
dock, I suppose, as she hadn't an
other sister thut I ovor heard of."
••If she - the young lady above—Is
like Mrs. Neville's sister, Mrs. Nev
ille must bo very unlike her own poo
pie,” says the young man. slowly.
••Yet, strange to say, that girl is
most absurdly like a portrait of Mrs.
Teuruddock that hangs in tho small
drawing room in South Audloy street,
where Mrs. Neville livos. Not that
thoro is anything so very remarka
ble in that; one sees chunco resem
blances every day. Hut you being
one of tho family, should see this
likeness yourself.
••No: 1 have no recollection ot
aunt. My father and she wore al
ways on bud terms with each other
during her lifetime, and there is no
picture of hor at the eastlc. The
one you mention was sent to Mrs.
Nevillo at her death. I have been
so much abroad that I am quite a
stranger to tho Wynters and all their
set You know Mrs. Neville?"
••Intimately; and Beauty, too."
with an amused smile. “And every
Tuesday afternoon Feauty gives me
a cup of tea with hor own fair little
■;% bands."
“Indeed;" exclaimed Ponruddock.
“Yes, indeed; you did not think
suoh bliss could oo on thin misera
ble earth, did you? And sometimes,
not ofton, I take a ntoo boy, when I
And one, and introduce him to Mra
Neville.”
“Am I a nice boy?" asked Ponrud
dock. with a la gh. “Wilding. If
you will introduce me to Mra Nev
- Hie.”
••Am 1 a nice boy?” asked Ponrud
dock. with a laugh. “Wilding if
you will introduce me to Mra Nivillo,
i. I shall never forget it for you as
long as I livol"
"And a great deal of good that
v will do nie,” says Wilding, mildly.
“However, I consent, and on Tuos
day you shall make your bow to Mrs.
Nevillo, and worship at Beauty's
i; shrine."
••Ob, thank you, my dear fellow,
| ■ thank you’."
VvXXgXl lTiU
y*' In tho Kow.
All yesterday tho rain foil heavily.
, Not in quiet showers, hut with a
‘ i steady downpour that drenched the
world, rendering the park a lonely
wilderness, and the hide deserted.
To-day the sun, as though weary of
yesterday’s inaction, is out again,
going his biuy round, and casting
his rich beams on rich and poor,
simple and wise, alike. Tho Kow is
crowded—filled to overflowing with
,k' the gaily dressed throng that has
come out to bask in the glad warmth
and sunshine, and revel in the sense
of well-being engendered by the soft'
^ ness and sweetness of the rushing
breeze.
U The occupants of the chair seem
drowsily inclined, and answer in
|\ soft monosyllables those with ener
gy sufficient to question them. One
old lady, unmindful of the carriages
that pass and repass incessantly,
: has fallen into a sound and refresh
ing slumber, made musical by snores
low but deep. The very loungers
on the ruiling have grown silent, as
u though speech was irksome, and con
versation not to be borne, and con
teut themselves with gazing upon
vV the beauty that is carried by them
as the tide of fashion ebbs and flows
A dark green victoria, exquisitely
appointed and drawn by two bright
bay ponies, claims, and not atallun
justly, the very largest share of at
tention. Not so much the victoria,
perhaps, as Mrs. Neville; to whom it
belongs, and who is now seated in
, it, with her adopted daughter be
| side her. Miss Neville, as usual, is
■ , faultlessly attired in some pale fab
ric, untouched by color of any sort,
and is looking more than ordinarily
lovely.
Her large dark eyes, blue as the
deep czar violet, and tinged with
melancholy, are in perfect harmony !
with tho cream colored hat she j
’•••"■wears. i
> ‘-There is Dick Pcnruddock.” says
lira Neville, suddenly. “I want to
. apeak to him.”
leaning forward, she says some
thing to her coachman, and presently
the carriage is drawn up beside the
.callings, and. with a smile and a
nod, Mrs. Neville beckons the young:
man to her aide. It is quite a month
sinco that night at the opera, where
Penruddock first saw Maud Neville
—a month full of growing hopes and
disheartening: fears. At first, Mrs.
Neville had been adverse to the ac
quaintance altogether, bearing a
strange grudgo to the- very name of
Penruddock, as she held it responsi
ble for all the ills that had befallen
her beloved sister. She had scollod
Wilding in her harmless fashion as
severely as she could scold anyone
for having brought one of “those
people," as she termed them, within
her doors, more especially the boy
who had succeeded to the property
that should by right have belonged
to the little Hilda, her dead sister’s
only child.
But time and Dick Penruddock's
charm of mannor had conquered
prejudice and vague suspicion; and
Mrs. Neville, after many days, ac
knowledged even to herself that she
liked tho young man—nay. almost
loved him, in spite of his name and
parentage. Just now he comes glad
ly up to tho side of the victoria and
takes her hand, and beams upon her.
and then glances past her to accept
with gratitude the slow bow and
very faint smile of recognition that
Miss Xovillo is sc condescending as
to bestow upon him.
“Such a chance to see you in this
confusion!'1 Bays Mrs. Neville, kind
ly. “And can you come and dine to
night? It is short notice, of course,
for such a fashionablo boy as you
aro; but I really want you, and you
mu8tcomo.”
“If you really want me, I shall of
courso como—your wishes are com
mands not to bo disputed,” says Pen
ruddock, after a second’s hesitation,
wheroin he has decided on tolling a
great fib to tho other people with
whom ho is in duty bound to pass his
ovoning. “But your dance—”
• ds later on—yes. But I have two j
or three old friends coming to dine,
and they aro very charming of courso
and I quito love them, you will un
derstand; but old friends, as a rule,
aro just tho least little bit tedious
sometimes, don’t you think? And I
waut you to help me with them. 1
may dopend upon you?”
“You may, indeed."
“Ah, so Maud said." says Mrs.
Neville, with a faint sigh of relief.
“Did Miss Neville say that? I did
not dare to believe that she had so
good an opinion of me. To be con
sidered worthy of trust is a very
great compliment indced,”says Dick,
glancing pgst Mrs. Neville again, to j
gaze somewhat wistfully at the own
er of the cronm-colorCd hat
But sho, beyond tho first slight
recognition and somewhat haughty
inclination of her small head, has
taken uot the slightest notice of
him.
“Have you seen the princess yet.
Miss Neville?" asks Fcnruddock at
length, in despair, filled with a sud
den determination to make her
speak; and to compel hor large,
thoughtful oyes to meet his own, if
only for a single Instant Rather
nice, her ponies, don’t you think?”
“Not bred so highly as Mrs.
Cabbe’s, nor so perfect in any wav,”
returns Miss Neville, unsympathetic
ally, letting her eyes rest upon him
for a very brief moment, and making
him a present of a grave, pleasant
but cold little smile.
Penruddook is piqued, almost an
gry. Already he has learned tho
value of position, money,the world’s
adulation; yet this girl alone treats
him with open qoldness and some
thing that borders on positive
avoidance, though she is utterly
without position, and only indebted
to the popularity Mrs Neville en
joys with both sexes for her admit
tance into society. Two or three
men coming up to the victoria at
this moment stay to speak to its oc
cupants,and to all Miss Neville gives
the same cold greeting, the same
frigid, but undeniably entrancing
A tall, dark man, pushing; his way
through the others, makes his bow
to Mrs. Neville, and then raises his
hat deferentially to the boauty of
the hour. Maud acknowledges his ;
presence with a salutation that is j
certainly somewhat colder than ]
those accorded to the othors to-day. I
•■How full the Row is this after
noon!’ says Mrs. Neville, genially,
who has made the same remark to
all the others straight through.
“Is it?” says Captain Saumarez.
the new-comer. “Really, i dare say;
but once 1 had caught sight
of your unapproachable ponies
I could see nothing else, j
It s:em* too much luck to meet you <
this afternoon with the certainty of I
meeting you again this evening, j
Thanks so much for the card! May j
I venture to hope for one dance to- j
night. Miss Neville?—or do I, as j
usual, ask too late?”
“Quite too late. Every dance is
promised. ”
“What, all? I am indeed unfortu
nate—there is no denying that! Is
there nooody you could throw over
to give me even one poor dance?”
“I never throw over my partners,”
says Miss Neville, distinctly; “my
conscience is opposed to that, and
will not allow me to break my word
—once given."
“Yet I think—short as is our ac
quaintance—I remember one partner
Ignominlously consigned to the back
ground for no particular reason,” re
plies he, meaningly.
“Do you?” innocently. “My mem
ory is not my strong point, so I shall
not discuss the subject But”—with
a flash from tho violet eyes—“I think
I may take it upon myself to say
that you are wrong when you say
there was no ‘particular reason* for
my so acting."
“'*Tis folly to remember, " quotes
he from a song she herself Is in the
habit of singing, and with a short,
unnrrthful laugh. “You are right.
V 4.,' , ■; it;
To encourage forgetfulness should be
one of our greatest alms. But to
return to our first discussion. I am
indeed the unhapplest of men. Is
there no hope that you will change
your mind and let mo live in the ex
pectation of being favored with one
waltz?’
“I cm offer you no such hopo,"
returns she, with so much pointed
decision in her voice and expression
that Saumarez, turning sharply on
his heel, takes off his hat with a
frowning brow and somewhat vin
dictive glance, and the next minute
has disappeared among the crowd.
There is a slight but perceptible
pause after he has gone. The other
men have molted away before this,
and only Penruddock remains.
About a week ago, Miss Neville
had almost promised him a waltz as
to this particular dance, but doubt
less she has by this time forgotten
All about such a promise, and has
given the waltz in question to some
more favored individual
But at this moment Miss Neville
sees fit to join in the conversation,
She turns her hoad slowly, and let
ting her handsome eyes meet Pen
ruddock’s, chains him to the spot by
the very power of their beauty.
“Then I suppose I am at liberty
to give away that third waltz that I
promised you at Lady Rvecroft’s?”
she asks, slowly, without removing
her gaze.
lumcuiwr ibr i UlOUgai
perhaps you had forgotten,” says
Penruddock, eagerly. -‘No, do not
giro It away. Dear Mrs. Neville, do
not think me unstable, or fickle, or
anything that way. but the fact is,
nothing on earth could keep me
from your dance to-night.”
He llushos a dark red, laughs a
little, raises his hat, and. as though
unablo to longer endure the rather
mischievous smile in Miss Neville’s
blue eyes, beats a hasty retreat.
••Ho is a dear boy—quite charm
ing,” says Mrs. Neviile.who is fooling
puzzled, “but certainly a little
vague. So very unlike h[s father,
who was the most unpleasantly mat
ter-of-fact person I over met. What
were you saying to Captain Sauma
roz, Maudio:J I saw that you were
talking to him, but you did not seem
very genial, either of you.”
“Ho is very distasteful to me,”
says Maud, quickly. “I don’t know
what it is, auntie, but I feel a hor
ror—a hatred of that man. His man
ner toward me is insolent to a de
gree. It is as though he would com
pel me, against my will, to be civil
to him, and I never shall!” concludes
Miss Neville, between her little,
white, even teeth.
“I don’t think I care much
about him myself,” says Mrs.
Neville. “He always- seems
to mo to be something of an
adventurer; and, besides, he is a
friend of all tho Ponruddoclis, and.
except Dick, I never liked any of
of them. Not that he is much of a
friend there either, as he never
speaks of them, and even if drawn
into conversation about Dick’s
father, as a rule, says something dis
paraging. But he has money, and
is received everywhere; and I really
think, my dear child, he is very de
voted to you.”
“Oh, do not, pray, try to make
him oven more detestable in my
sight than he is already,” says Maud
with a shiver that may mean dis
gust.
“Oh, no! Of course I meant noth
ing. And he is the last man I
should care to seo you married to.
But some time or other you must
make a selection—you can but know
that—and I am always thinking for
you, indeed I am. Dick Penruddock
is very much in love with you, I
really believe, though you-always
deny it.”
“I deny it because I think he is
not. I hope with all my heart and
soul that he is not.” says Maud,with
sudden and unlooked for energy.
All the color has fled from her
cheeks and her lips tremble slightly.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
Not Quite Perfect.
The boy had applied for a job in a
wholesale house and was about to
get it when a thought seemed to
strike the employer. .
••Can you whistle ‘Daisy Bell?’ he
inquired.
••Yes. sir," responded the boy.
“And ‘After the Ball?’”
“Yes. sir.”
“And •Ta-raP’ •’
“Yes, sir.”
“And ‘Two Little Girls?’ ”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well—"
“Hold on," interrupted the boy,
fearful of results; “you don’t expect
a boy of my size not to have no bad
habits at all, do you?”
He was given the place on proba
tion.
A Chip of the Old Block.
“How old are you. sonny?”
“Twelve years old, sir.”
“You are very small for your age.
What is your name?”
“Johnny Smith. My father is a
baker on Manhattan avenue.”
“Your father is a baker? 1 might
have guessed it by your size. You
remind me of one of his loaves.”_
Texas Siftings.
Bather Topheary.
Boy—That toy boat you sold me is
do good.
Dealer—What's wrong with it?
Boy—It won’t stand up. Flops
right over as quick as I put it in the
water. Guess you think I wanted it
for a man-of-war.
The Poetry or It.
She—I’d rather be a poet that
anything in the world.
Poet—You might be the next
thing to one. I
She—Oh, tell me how. |
The Poet—By becoming Mrs. Poet
(He got her.)
Soaking Cvjrn for Feed.
The Kansas agricultural college hai
just issued bulletin 47, vfhich gives a
full report on their tests to find out if
it pays to soak corn for fattening
steers. Ten grade Shorthorns were
used in the test, five being fed partly
on unsoaked corn, and the others s
like amount of soaked corn. Two lots
of hogs ran with them, to utilize the
undigested corn, and their gain was
also taken into account. The results
were summarized as follows:
WILL IT PAT TO SOAK COBH?
Whether the answer to this question
will be a yes or a no will depend upon
circumstances. The foregoing , facts
prove that steers get more out oi
soaked corn than they do of dry corn,
and that the reverse is true of the
hogs which follow. It will not pay to
soak corn whenever it is necessary to
take the precaution against freezing
that we were obliged to take in this
experiment, nor is it likely to pay il
it involves more extra labor than can
be done by the regular force in charge
of the cattle. But when a feeder is so
situated that the corn can be soaked
at slight expense, this experiment
would indicate that it is a profitable
practice, at least during mild weather.
In conclusion, the facts brought to
light by this experiment may be sum
marized as follows:
1. Tne five steers fed on soaked
shelled corn gained a total of 1,632
pounds in 150 days on 282 bushels of
corn, while the five steers fed on dry
corn gained a total of only 1,468
pounds on 290 bushels of corn. *
2. The steers fed on soaked corn,
owing to their better condition,
brought a higher price in ths marke
than the steers fed on dry corn. Bal
ancing both cost of feed and market
value of the two lots, there is a differ
ence of 325.50 in favor of the soaking
of the corn.
3. The hogs following the steers
fed on soaked corn made a total gain
of 635 pounds, while the bogs follow
ing the dry-corn fed steers made a
total gain of 747 pounds. This makes
a difference of 35.58 in favor of the
hogs following the dry-corn steers.
1 4. Based on the foregoing figures,
it will pay to soak corn if it can be
soaked for 6 cents, or less, a bushel.
Cultivation of Wild Blackberries*
On our farm was a piece of land
nearly ten acres in extent, says
Farmers’ Home It was light, sandy
soil, and the readiness with which
| briars sprang up all over it indicated
favorable conditions for wild black
berries. The land was of little real
value, and not needed for regular
field crops, as the rest of the farm
took about all our time to cultivate it
Besides, we are getting more and more
to believe in intensive farming, and
instead of increasing the acreage
under cultivation we are decreasing it
Our location is near large markets, but
there is little sale for the land. The
question what to do with these ten
scree of sandy land, overrun with
blackberry vines, puzzled us for many
years, but finally we decided to turn
it to some profitable use. The black
berry vines were the largest wild
sorts, very early and sweet innd
we began to cultivate them as
much as possible; that is, we thinned
them out in places, and trans
planted roots to other parts of the
field. The vines that failed to produce
any berries in places were rooted up
and others put there. In this way the
whole ten acres were soon one mass of
blackberry vines. The result of this
venture has been that tons of black
berries have been picked from the
field every summer. The vines are
loaded down with large, luscious ber
ries that find a ready sale in the mar
ket, especially as a great deal of the
fruit ripens earlier than the large cul
tivated varieties. We never heard of
raising wild blackberries for market,
but as the boys in the neighbor
hood always made money in pick
ing them wherever they could
find them, we concluded that there
must be some money in them. We
have not regretted our experiment.
The returns from the field every
season are large, more than paying
10 per cent interest on the cost of the
land, and our wages daily during the
picking season. As the land is al
most worthless for general farming,
we see no better use to which we can
put it
Sending Fruit Long Distances.
Ventilation of packages in which fruit
is packed for shipping serves no pur
pose except to allow the escape of sur
plus moisture. Otherwise the contact
with fresh air every moment hastens
its decay all the more. The important
point in packing fruit is to see that it
is as dry on the outside as it can be
made. Then wrap each specimen in a
little cotton, which will serve both to
exclude air and to absorb any moist
ure that the fruit will naturally ex
hale. This was the way that straw
berries were successfully shipped to
the World’s Fair at Chicago last sum
mer, says an exchange. When
out of the cotton each specimen was
as fresh as when put up and would
keep six to eight daya With large
fruit a piece of lime put in the package
proves an excellent absorber of moist
ure, which is what is moat likely to
cause decay.
Old Fields with a Light Cron.
Fields that have been a long Mm?
mowed as a rule yield but a light crop
of hay. There are too many such
acres on nearly all farms They drag
the crop down to a low avenge. In
view of these facts is it not a good
time, while the matter is fresh in mind
to consider whether a change in tlm
management of the grass fields can
not be made that will prove advan
tageous to the owners? Certain It is
there is neither profit or prosperity
from an old run down field of grass
* half ^ to the acre.
field» should be plowed up
Under the plow, in place of the half
ton of inferior bay, each acre may ai
well produce, planted In corn or sowr
to oats or peas or Hungarian, four tc
six times the fodder that has just beei
harvested from them.—Maine Farmer
Prof. Aixkx Moore: The farmci
must be so educated that he can see t
grandeur in his vocation not surpassed
by any other business. He must live
above the drudgery of farm work, anc
see that his calling possesses oppor
tunities not surpassed by any other
The bustle of the city does not disturl
his meditations while planting, culti
vating or gathering in. He can lool
at the beautiful flowers at his feet anc
there see the penciling^ of the Creator
of the universe. Every leaf is a book,
and even the stones beneath his fee1
are “stumbling blocks for the ignorant
bat food for the wise.’’ If he turni
his eyes upward and beholds the
candles of night glimme'ring in the
skies, that grandly true line will echc
through his sonl, “The heavens de
clare the glory of God and the firms
ment showeth his handiwork.” Hu
manity can not be encompassed with
grander teachers. Ho wonder that the
farm has produced the grandest mer
the world has ever known. The farm
children must be educated to feel that
there is a grandeur and an honor ir
farm life found nowhere else.
Drt ridge soil with porous subsoil
is most favorable for cherry growing,
says Prof. J. L. Budd. On such soil
the trees should be set four to sis
inches deeper than they stood in the
nursery. By deep setting, roots will
be thrown out from the scion or from
a point above the bud, in two or three
years. Indeed, the Bttesian and nortl
German varieties often emit roots
from the first year after setting the
root-grafts in nursery. Another
benefit resulting from deep setting is
protection of the tender roots we are
obliged to use in propagation.
Itlay's Forests.—Italy at about th*
beginning of the Christian era, foi
commercial purposes and to give em
ployment to her numerous slaves,
felled her native forests to the sources
of her streams and the summits of her
mountain bulwarks. Soon, only too
soon, unused, unproductive lands
drove countless thousands to Home for
bread. The ethereal mildness of her
climate became a scorching siroco
When by the failure of national power
Rome gave way. her territory was oc
cupied by peoples who allowed the
forests to recover the denuded hil]
and mountain sides. The return to
ward natural conditions gave back
some of her climatic conditions.
□Mixed Forest Growth.—Mixed f»r
est growth is the rule in the world; in
the natural forest, there are usually
several species occupying the ground
together. It requires a higher degree
of knowledge and judgment on the
part of the owner to properly foster
the growth of the desirable kinds. An
intimate knowledge of varieties, their
growth, value and influence upon
others is necessary to attain the best
results. However, it must be as ap
parent to the farmer that it is best to
keep his wood lot in fair reproducing
condition as it will be to keep his
cows producing calves instead of re
maining barren.
A farmer’s home, with house plants
in the window, flowers on the lawn,
and a succession of small fruits from
a garden planned, planted, pruned and
protected with aid of wife and chil
dren, giving each child control of a
particular plant, bush or row, will do
more to make children love the old
homestead and keep the boys on the
farm than all the precepts ever taught
them.
Blood for Plants—A lady whose
plants are the wonder of passers-by
found a patent poultry food whose
basis was dried blood, and says the
rich growth and blossoming is be
cause she works a spoonful of this
once in a while into the earth about
them. Before she found out about
this she bought blood from the Hebrew
butchers for plant food.
A humane writer says: Keep the
flies out of the stables. Close up the
cracks and tack mosquito bar over the
windows. This may cost you a little
money and trouble, but it will save
jou many dollars’ worth of horse
flesh. The horses will pay for it by
doing lots more har work without
fatigua
Ose who has been successful in rais
in? hogs thinks that a thoroughbred
boar at 20 cents a pound is cheaper than
a scrub at 5 cents. In fact he says that
you can hardly pay too much for a
first-class boar if you have much use
for him.
Hobticultob* is an important de
partment of agriculture, and its study
and practice will certainly stimulate
the farmer to better tillage, larger
crops, finer stock and greater success
in every way.
□ Fob the soil to remain bare either
canses » loss of fer
tility. It is the nature of the earth to
produce vegetation and all our efforts
ought to be guided by this fact
UniZ Psr,°d,UCti?n of aPP3“ 1“ the
United States is about 146,000,000
bushels; of peaches, 36,000,000 bushels,
and of pears, cherries, apricots, plums
and prunes. 7,00o,ooo bushels.—Ex.
It is the little things in poultry
On!!nf^hat .minl8ter to the profit
One of these items is the care of th<
manure. You must go to the trouble ol
clearing it out frequently, anywav
“‘•VT? you “• itwhj
not take a little more trouble and put
it where it will do the most good P
man who makes it a rule t
whn >MS in the stable is the on
ittafa? w lea?t tronble with then
aidTtn™btB*mlnute t0 PQt themi
w^s^t 0Ut’ “dthU «».l
I'ThatTired Fetj
1 eortkh.
«*»« Bo«S
Wood, no to,
• Run Do
,eel!“g. or,
«“ « order'
, •nrcly help,
«**« Itnfti,
► there b toT|
1 ““>• Ihie
14 °f great be.
We have used Hood's Sarmparin* tt,
and have no sick headache spells,
Hood’s^'* Cut
feeling." W. H. Babies, Hartfcnl q
Hood's Pills five universal
utl«
COOK BO
%PREEli
380 PMK8—ILLUtTli
One of the Largest mZ
Books published! luaLt
tor *0 burs* Ua k>sSi n,, J
Coffee wrappers, and a
Write for list of oar
-■aSSHHBg
Fresh Air ami Em
m
Get all that’s
possible of
both, if in
need of flesh
strength
and nerve
force. There’s need,too, of;
of fat-food.
Scott’s Emulsi
of Cod Liver Oil builds up
and strength quicker than
other preparation known it
ence.
Scoffs Emulsion is constanth
fecting Cure of Consume
Bronchitis and kindred dis%
where other methods fail
Prepared by Scott k Bowbb, H. Y. All*
QUICKLY CUBES
COLD IN HEAD.
QrJcTSr^^l
Apply Balm into each nostril.
ELY BROS., 56 Warren St.,>i.Y.
f 5. CORDOYJ
FRENCH A ENAMEUB:
**S3BPFlNEflM
*3.& POLICE, 3$
tf&tZ.WQRm
EXTRA FINE
*2A7-sB0YS$cma
*
“ B
SEND FOR CATALOG.
W*L*DOUGU
BROCKTON, M
xou can wve money by weartw
W. Ij. Dttiflu $3.00 Shot.
Because, we are the largest manufafl
this grade of shoes in the world, and guana
value by stamping the name and prke
bottom, which protect you against hlgb^
the middleman's profits. Our shoes equt
work In style, easy fitting and wearing <
We have them sold everywhere at lower!
the value given than any other make. Th*
stltute. If your dealer cannot supply you, <
MAILED frj
^ ^ to any Fanner or Farmer’! Wife
Up to Date Dairyi
containing full instruction hpwtose:*
• Higher Grade Products, mala
mOHE BUTTER -nl^W BETTER f!
•ndwith Less Labor g<* flore!
Kevlewingand explaining in a practical manner,,
tmk Normandy (rween) systo
Danish dairy systei
Elgin Separator!
which hare brought prosperity and ease to the
Write for this Valuable Information. M3&
application. Kindly send address of neighs
vho own cows. Address R. LESPINASSE,
Ex. Sec y Columbian Ar 240 W. UB
Illinois Dairy Associations. 0
BEST IN
BESTI*1
BES1' IN '«
quaut
The caterorti’
tends the wkj
i down to tb« *
teotinsr the boj
(ring and in
work.
ASK TOCKlj
FOB TBJ
and don't In
with Inferior f
wutHHSTF.H
RITBliboJ
Tb* Family Cobbler, nHTn»** 1
A complete outfit for general a «oniple®l
boot and shoe repairing. generel d*\|
Price 9S.M. bell
Kept for sale by hardware dealer* »»d *
generally, 0i sent freight prepaid to J0*
“• etetlon upon receipt of price.
■RANDKNBURG * c°‘
•Won, IU.t St. Loula, *o., *»"**’
Omaha, Nsb„ Sioux City,
AGENTS WANTED. c -
WELL MACHINEBJI
APOKB3*BOOK^Hlfx3,^iTO^^3
AM> JFTTINa MACHINERY. «lt
“»* Fan. Bar* baoa tasted ana
Bloas City Karim A Iron Wortt,
Bueeeaeora to HHh Mrs. Co, S
.... _ ,_ •loom Ulf l“w** j
an Balm At*.. Kaaaaa cuy. Mo. 1
