directory.
j tatb.
SltM Holcomb
R. E. Moore
J. A. Piper
-tier
..J. S. Bartley
fTclm^hlU
a n iinn ..6. H. Russell
■ H. K. Corbett
C'vrB UNIVERSITY.
Lincoln; Leavlt^Buruham,
XilmtT*. ?t Holme..
‘no. Kearney: M. J. Mull,
^RESSIONAL.
. [,■ Manderson. of Omaha:
I>1 ad Ison.
V-Elrst District, J-B Strode
[. Kera.
UI)ICI ARY.
[ .Bamuel Maxwell
f j udge Poet and T. L Norral
1 JUDICIAL DISTRICT
u p Kinktld. of O Nelli
j. J Klngof O’NelU
' A. L. Bartow of Cbadron
"A. L. Warrick, of O’Neill
tib OFFICES.
O HRILIm
..John A. Hannon.
_Elmer William*.
COUNTY.
.. .Geo McCutcheon
triV-t Court.John Skirring
strict uour».Q M
..J. P. Mullen
_Sam Howard
".BUI Bethea
.....Mike McCarthy
....Oh a* Hamilton
. ....Chua O'Neill
W.K. Jackson
.Mr*. W. R. Jackson
.Dr. Trueblood
.M. P. Norton
'.'.7.7.7..’.H. B. Murphy
lPEBVISORS.
.Prank Moore
.Wilson Brodts
.W. P. Elsele
.George Kckley
.L. B. Maben
.A. 8. Eby
.A. C. Purnell
. D. G. Boll
..John Dlckau
..'..H. B. Kelly
K. J. Hayes
.B. Slaymaker
.B. H. Murray
.John
S. L. Conger
‘ Hodge
Wm. Lell
.E. J. Mack
.George Kennedy
.John Airs
.James Gregg
.P. W. Phillips
. .A. Oberle
.Hugh O’Neill
.D. C. Blond In
.John Wert*
.H. O. Wine
.T. B. Doolittle
.J. B. Donohoe
.G. H. Phelps
.J. E. White
.A. O. Mohr
T OF Of If BILL.
E. J. Mack; Juitloes, B. H.
. M. Wagora; Constables, Ed.
'erkins Brooks.
IILMBN—nMT WARD.
i.-D. H. Cronin, for one
Evony.
S10OKD WARD.
i—Alexander Marlow.
For
e Pfund.
THIRD WARD.
h-Cliarles Darts.
For one
errlmtn. i
citt ornoiRS.
F. Blglln; Clerk, N. Martin;
bn McHugh; City Engineer
; Police Judge, H. Kautxman;
ce, Charlie Hall; Attorney,
Weighmaster, Joe MUler.
TTAN TOWNSHIP.
1.J. Hayes; Trearurer. Barney
rk, J. Sullivan; Assessor, Ben
Ices, M. Csstello and Chas.
ables, John Horrlsky and Bd.
overseer dlst. at, Allen Brown
n Enright.
RELIEF COMNISSION.
sting Ont Monday In Febru
>r, and at suoh other times as
•sary. Robt. Gallagher, Page,
m. Bowen, O'Neill, secretary;
tklnson.
K’8 CATHODIC CHDBCH.
tvery Sabbath at 10:80 o'dock.
iildy, Postor. Sabbath school
blowing services.
8T CHUBCH. Banda
-Preaching 10:80 A. M. and 7:i!
® '.»:i»A. M. Class No. 2 (Ei
Class No. 8 (ChUd
Mud-week services—Genen
I Thursday 7:30 P. x. All wl
ome, especially strangers.
B. E. HOSMAN, Pastor.
O^Nasg. The Gen. Jofa
tjljo. 88, Department of »
• «Uimeet.the first and thli
lug of etch month In Mason
8. J. Smith, Com.
0.
0. L. Brioht, Sec.
— CHAPTEB, B.
&!hlrd Tuesday,
1 8eo. j. c. Harribh,
tHBLMBT lodge.
irr g J- V. GoLDEtr,
‘it. K. of K. and 8.
NO.
Scribe. Ohas. Hri
*m»ti om.„t
I4IT
C .
»:68
■le«ve"g4B?RT Lt**.
»rrl',e« g-07
o&.d»y. Arrlvea 7:0f
£2^w"SS,K?«4.
£“r, Wert"
°niLi » *t..i
ggss*,
Peaspi
HISS SABRINA PAIR.
ABRINA, this la
Mr. Otki-Mr.
Oaka, my daugh
ter,” said Mra, Fair.
The young man,
|who was paying his
first call on his
neighbors, whose
acre of land ad
joined the western
border of hla Im
mense farm, could
' "ly repress a
Plain aa he lookt„. _ uad read more
than moat of the folk In Longbridge,
and knew Milton by heart.
'“Sabrina fair, llaten where thou art
Bitting, under the grassy, cool,
tranalucent wavea,
tn twisting braids of llilea knitting the
loose train of thy amber-dropping
hair,’ "
he silently quoted from “Cornua."
Aloud he said:
“Tours la quite a striking name. Miss
Pair.”
“Well,” Mrs. Fair said, "I always did
hate Jims and Johns and Marys and
Sallys, and I wanted something extra
tor my first girl. Just then we had a
doll-fair at the church, and the min
ister's wife, Mrs. May, named the dolls.
“There was one lovely doll, and some
one said: ‘Why, her hair la amber
color.’
III name her Sabrina, then,’ said
Ura. May.
“It struck me as a lovely name, and
I bad my baby christened by it. It’s a
Bible name, I suppose, as the minister’s
wife chose it. She had Ruth, and Na
omi, and Rebecca, and lots of others.”
Young Oaks said: “Ah, yes, natur
ally!"—and Mrs. Fair went on:
“Sabrina’s hair is sort of amber-col
ored. too, if you notice.’’
“Who could help noticing ItT" asked
the farmer. Sabrina tossed her head
and gave Mr. Oaks a haughty look.
From that moment she spoke only
when addressed, and then In monosyl
lables.
“Oh, mamma, how could you!” aha
cried, when their guest was gone.
“Telling a young man to notice my
hair—and about my name. I know he
thought it queer, for his mouth went
up at the corners."
“I know he admired you," said Mrs.
Fair. “8abrlna, don’t be be a goose:
we are as poor as we well can be and
live, and here is a fine young man who
was struck at first sight. Everybody
speaks well of him. The farm Is all hts
own; he has no one but a sister, who is
engaged to be married. Such a chance
for you, and here you are turning up
your nbse at him already.”
“Well, mamma,” the girl replied, “I
can’t help it. You made me angry, and
he made me angry, and I shall just hate
him from now on. Besides, he evidently
thinks I am anxious for his attentions.
I'll show him I'm not; I have a little
pride. ‘Who could help noticing it,* in
deed! and he stared at me as if I was
a calf offered for sale.”
“I think it was quite an elegant com
pliment,” said Mrs. Fair.
“I do not,” said Sabrina. “He had no
right to pay me compliments the first
time he saw me."
“Such a high character people give
him,” said Mrs. Fair. “I think he’s fine
looking, too, Breny.”
“He's not!" the girl replied. I don’t
want to marry a farmer, anyhow; I like
the city. I shall choose a doctor or a
lawyer, or something like that.”
“The worst of it is, the men choose
us; we have only yes or no to say,”
sighed Mrs. Fair. “And whoever comes
here, Breny? Do you want to be an old
maid?”
“Just as soon as not,” Sabrina an
swered, tossing her small head. “Any
how, I’ll never take any notice of Mr.
Oaks.”
She kept her word. Young Oaks, who
had fallen In love with her at first sight.
“POULTRY ISN'T WORTH MUCH.”
called constantly, warmly welcomed by
Mrs. Fair. Sabrina was obliged to (a
Into the parlor on these occasions, but
she sat by the window and crocheted,
and only said "ah!" "yes” or “no," when
common civility obliged her to do so.
Oaks understood her very well; he
knew she was neither stupid nor shy.
"She was taking airs,” she wished to
drive him away.
Every one knows that the ordinary
man Is only led on by the thought that
a woman Is running away from him.
Oalu waa not superior to his aex In gen*
eral. He pretended not to notice, talked
to the mother, looked at the daughter,
made the latter very acceptable offer
ings of fruit and vegetables, and bided
his time.
Robert Oaks was obstinate—so was
Sabrina Fair. By slow degrees she be
gan to see that he was very line looking,
to know that he had educated himself
very thoroughly, and to discover that
he had a good disposition. She secretly
wished that she had not begun to treat
him with contempt, but, having begun,
she went on to the bitter end. Silence
had failed, she began to use sarcasm,
bitter speeches, contemptuous remarks.
He took them good-humoredly, and
once said to her mother:
“I had no Idea that Miss Sabrina waa
so witty.”
“When a man Is in love with a wom
an, she can’t do anything wrong,” Mrs.
Fair said one night, as Sabrina lay at
her side In the darkness. "And when
he Is not, she can't do anything right.”
"The next compliment Robert Oaks
pays mp, I’ll slap him in the face,” Sa
brina Aid.
"I ..Relieve you capable of It," said
Hra Fair.
I* > moment more Sabrina heard her
WJ#1* softly. ..:Vf
"Why, mamma!” she said.
"It you really knew how bad things
were Breny,” the elder woman an
swered. “I don't believe we can get
along three months more—I do not; and
there's plenty for both of us offered—
and such a man! And you haven't an
other beau—oh, Breny."
Breny pretended to be asleep. Secret
ly, she was repenting bitterly.
By this time she knew that her moth
er only said what was true about Rob
ert Oaks; but, nevertheless, she refused
to come Into the parlor at all when next
he called.
That day Robert held out both hands
to Mrs. Fair as he said good-bye.
“I suppose I might as well stay
away," he said. "I think I must give up
an Idea I had of making friends with
Miss Sabrina.”
Mrs. Fair was too forlorn to deny the
truth.
"I appreciate you, Mr. Oaks,” she
said.
“Thank you,” he replied, and was
gone.
Weeks passed, he did not call again,
but secretly he still watched and wait
ed, expecting some recall from Sabrina.
He did not know that In order to
keep the cottage a little longer the Fairs
were living on bread and molasses and
rye coffee. Such diet did not agree with
Mrs. Fair—she fell 111.
The doctor came and ordered wine
and chicken broth. Sabrina walked into
the village that afternoon and eold a
pair of earrings to the jeweler and
bought the wine. As for the chicken,
she had a plan. Sabrina was a queer
creature, and I am sure that when I
tell my readers what she intended to
do they will be quite certain that she
was destitute of moral principle.
Sabrina Fair Intended to steal those
chickens, and to steal them from Mr.
Robert Oaks.
The great, clean, well-appointed
coops were close to the cottage garden,
and by loosening a paling she could
easily slip In.
At midnight she set out upon her er
rand, cloaked and veiled, as she be
lieved, beyond recognition.
Trembling with agitation, she grabbed
a rather small and skinny little hen,
and stumbled home with It, turning
faint as she reached her doorstep.
However, the chicken broth did her
mother good, and she explained that
she had sold her earrings, giving Mrs.
Fair an idea that a fabulous price had
been paid for them; and from that time
the two women liven on chickens and
fresh eggs. There were always a few
eggs to be found on the Oaks place
without much searching.
By degrees Sabrina grew bold. Her
heart no longer palpitated with fear
when she drew away the palings and
slipped through the aperature Into
Farmer Oaks’ hencoop.
"I'll get a good roaster for Sunday,
mamma,” she said one day, “If you're
not tired of chicken.”
“I like poultry better than meat,” the
unsuwlclous lady replied. “It’s a shame
you should part with your Jewelry,
though.”
“Oh, earrings are out of fashion, you
know,” said Sabrina.
Her mother did not ask of whom her
daughter bought the fowls, nor did she
guess how at midnight she opened the
kitchen door and hurried away to the
scene of her former depredations, with
a cool audacity born of success In evil
doing.
In ten minutes she had a fine speckled
hen in her basket, had pocketed six
eggs ,and was stooping to creep under
the fence, when a voice behind her said:
“Poultry isn’t worth much, to my
mind, without proper fixings. I've got
the basket all ready for you. The things
are fresh, anyway. The cranberries I
got over in the meadow, and there's
sugar for them as well."
Sabrina Fair uttered a scream and
leaned against the fence, white as a
ghost in the moonlight.
Farmer Oaks tood before her; his
hat on the back of his head, his hands
In his pockets, smiling benevolently.
An Instant more and a flood of hot
tears burst from Sabrina's eyes. Never
was human being so bitterly mortified
before.
“Mother was almost starving,” she
said. “She’s been sick, and there was
no money. That’s my only excuse.”
“Why didn't you come to the fence
and tell me to bring over what she
Wanted?” said Oaks. “The Idea of your
mother wanting anything I had plenty
of!”
It occurred to Sabrina to look
haughty, but she could not manage It.
The tears fell faster than ever. Oaks
drew an Immaculately clean handker
chief from his pocket and wiped them
away.
“Don't,” he said, tenderly. “Look
here, Breny, 'all of this Is mine and
thine:’ ”
BaDrina was noi aware mat ne was
quoting from the “Lord of Burleigh”;
but the speech was pretty and she al
lowed the young man to put his arm
about her waist.
"You've liked me better than you
would let me see for a long while, my
dear,” he said. "I’ve loved you since
the day we met.
"Tomorrow I am coming over to ask
your mother when I can have you both.
Bister Jessie is to be married soon, and
I need a wife and a mother-in-law—
and there's no woman in the world I
could love but you.” Then he kissed
her, picked up his burdens, and led the
way under the fence, Sabrina following
meekly.
When Oaks had gone away, leaving
the baskets on the kitchen floor, she
stood looking after him until she heard
her mother calling downstairs:
“Breny, what are you sltttiiig up so
late for?”
"I've been to take a moonlight walk,
mamma,” Sabrina replied.
"At this time of nlgftt—are you
crasy?” Mrs. Fair Inquired.
“Oh, I had an escort,” Sabrina re
plied. “Mr. Oaks was with me.”
"I do believe you have come to your
senses at last," cried Mrs. Fair ecsta
tically.
“Yes'm, I have," was her daughter's
answer, “and I'm awfully happy,
mamma.”_
Her Serious Alarm.
"Mrs. Johnsing.” began the messenger
who was deputed to break the news
gently, “your husband, while a little
under the Influence of liquor, tried to
butt an express train oft the track—.”
Mrs. Johnson threw up both hands.
"Man!” she exclaimed. "I bet befo’ ter
morrer mornln’ dat rail rode company be
down here wtd a constable an' take my
goods an’ chattels fer damages. Whar la
dat fool nigger—in the Jail?"—Cincin
nati Tribune.
MODERN VENETIAN WOMEN.
They Arc Rarely Trelty, Often Ohara
tng and Usually Handsome. '
Venetian women are rarely pretty,
often charming, generally handsome,
eaya Harper’s Magaslne. And all of
them, without exception, walk splendid
ly, not taking little, mincing, feminine
steps, but with a fine, grave stride, duo
partly to the fact that they are accus
tomed to wear heelless slippers, which
oblige them to plant the feet firmly and
whole foot at once, without a chance of
tripping on toes or pounding on heels,
as women who wear light tight boots
are able and apt to do; they walk with
much the same action as If they were
barefooted and Just as well. And they
use the whole body In walking, not with
the undulatory motion of Spanish wom
en but with a movement of the whole
back and shoulders In the exact swing
of the stride. Venetian women do, how
ever, remind one In many ways of Span
ish women In their way of doing the
hair, of wearing the mantilla, for In
stance, the Moorish element coming out
In both, so that In Venice, for Instance,
one finds, quite as a matter of course,
an Autlco Caffe del Mori, a cigarette is
still known as a spagnoletto, and the
dialect touches Spanish at all points.
The types of Venetian women vary In
every quarter; the women of the Cas
tello have quite a different look from
the women of the Dorsoduro. In a sea
port town there Is always a certain
intermixture of races, and Venice, with
the different layers of Its different oc
cupations and conquests, Is variable to
a greater degree than most seaports.
Women and girls, even children, dress
exactly alike, and there Is nothing more
comical, more charming, than the little
people of 12, who look like 20: brilliant,
fascinating little people, at once very
childish and very mature, with their
hair colled at the back like their elders,
their skirts down to their heels, their
shawls, too long for them, dangling to
the ground, but worn with an air of In
finite Importance and self-sufficiency.
And the colors of all these women, the
elegant olives, the delicate blondes, are
thrown out so well, so finely adorned,
by the vivid colors of shawls and
dresBes and stockings, which would be
gaudy elsewhere, but which here In the
heat and glitter of such an atmosphere
are always In place, never Immoderate.
They are all a part of the picture, the
great genre picture which Is Venice.
NO FI8HIN’ HERB.
How on Oil City Angler Encountered
Sueh nn Admonition.
An Oil City gentleman, who, like many
others, Is fond of Ashing for trout, had
nearly Anlshed a day's long tramp on
a stream which was strewn with cut
poles, bait boxes, and other evidences
of the native angler. He had noticed,
but Ignored, an occasional sign tacked
to a tree of “No Ashing on this stream,”
not allowing the weather-stained ad
monitions to Interfere with what little
enjoyment he was getting. The day
was nearly over and he was nearing the
mouth of the stream, when he was
hailed by a resident of a neighboring
farm house.
"Hello, Cap’n!”
"Well?”
"Ye been Ashln’ up there?”
"Yes."
"Can ye read?"
“Yes.”
"Did ye see that sign tellln' ye there’s
‘no Ashln' up here?’ ’’
"Yes, and It’s true, too.”
Then the tired sportsman stepped on
to Inspect a likely hole, and It wasn't
until after he had put on a fresh bait
that a light seemed to break In on the
farmer's understanding, who grunted
and faced about for home.—Oil City
Bllizard.
A SAWED-OFF MOUSE TRAP.
Cat Oat One Hole to Please the Cus
tomer.
The willingness of the country mer
chant, when he has competition, to
oblige all customers. Is sometimes al
most pathetic. The other day a farmer
entered one of the hardware stores In
Reading, Mich., and asked to see a
cheap mouse trap. The dealer handed
him down a wooden trap that had three
holes for mice.
“How much?” asked the farmer.
“Ten cents,” said the merchant.
"That’s mor'n I can afford to pay,"
said the farmer. Oot any for Ave
cents?”
The merchant had none for Ave cents,
and the farmer was about to depart,
when the hardware man called out:
“Hold on a minute!” He took the ten
cent trap to the back part of the store,
took down a saw and sawed out one of
the holes and the catcher with It, says
the Reading (Mich.) Hustler, and
brought the mutilated trap back to the
farmer .who paid his Ave cents and went
away with the trap, apparently well
satlsAed.
A Wonderful Goblet.
Dr. Guthrie tells this story of a won
derful goblet, which the genius of a
heathen fashioned, teaching a moral
which many a deuthbed has fearfully
illustrated:
Having made the model of a serpent
he fixed it in the bottom of the cup;
and there, with gray eyes gleaming In
Its head, and fangs raised to strike, it
lay, colled for the spring. Beneath the
ruby wine, the cup is raised, the
draught Is quaffed, the dregs are
reached, and now that dreadful head
rises up, too late to warn. And so, when
pleasure's cup is nearly emptied, and
the sinner with unwilling lips Is drain
ing its bitter dregs, shall rise the ghast
ly terrors of remorse and death and
Judgment on his despairing soul. A ser
pent lurks at the bottom of guilt's
sweetest pleasure.—Nashville Christian
Advocate.
Munificent Compensation.
Mr. Paderewski received a letter from
an Invalid English lady the other day
requesting him, as she was unable to go
to his concerts, to come to her house
and play a few pieces, for which she
offered him the munificent sum of }2.50.
This Incident leads the Journal des De
bats to relate a similar experience that
occurred to Salnt-Saens, when he was
already a member of the Institute. A
lady in the provinces, who was bring
ing out her daughter and had made up
her mind to get the best there was, re
gardless of expense, wrote to him that
she Intended to give a ball and wanted
him to provide the music at the piano,
for Which she offered to pay him K and
a second-class return ticket.
A8TOR A RESTAURATEUR.
John Jacob and the Sh inluy UrotbSM
to Opan n Cafe on tipper Ilrmttlway,
John Jacob Astor a restaurateur! It'a
a fact, and the big block of land at
Forty-second street ami Hroadway Is
soon to be the site of a restaurant
which may vie with the best In this
country or Europe, soys the New York
Sun.
For years Acker, Merrnll A Condlt
have occupied the corner. It Is now In
that part of the city which embraces
half a dozen theaters and lots of hotels.
Some weeks ago Thomas J. Hhunley and
his two brothers, who conduct a chop
house opposite Daly's theater, got an
option on the property and then ap
proached the owner, John Jacob Astor.
They asked Mr. Astor to build an up
to-date restaurant on the property,
where now stands a ramshackle two
story building. Thomas J. Shanley said
last night: l
'We expect In a short Ime to build
a restaurant that will astonish the
world. Before I went Into this busi
ness I was buyer for a large dry goods
house. I went three times a year to Lon
don, Paris, Berlin, Vienna and lots of
other continental cities. I saw what we
needed In the restaurant line. Accord
ing to our plana, which Mr. Astor Is to
follow, we will have a building at least
three stories high. On the roof Is to
be an open-air restaurant. Below we
are to have one room for men and
women where smoking Is not allowed;
another for both sexes where smoking
Is permitted. There Is a’so to be a cafe
for men and a banquet hall for meetings
and big dinners. The roof restaurant
will, I think, appeal to those who like
to dine comfortably, and you know
what heat Is to the average New Yorker.
"One unique feature will be an orches
tra so situated In a court that the man
who chooses to spend seventy-live cents,
or whatever he cares to, will hear as
much as those who are In the other gal
leries. I have always considered what
people want, and when I say that our
business In this small place amounts
to over a quarter of a million of dollars
a year you can see what a larger place,
In a better location, perhaps, will
amount to. Mr. Astor said that his
new hotel would take so much money—
It Is to adjoin the Waldorf, you know—
that he hadn't as much to spend on our
new place as ordinarily he would have.
However, $200,000, we understand, Is the
amount to be used.
"The place will be equipped with the 1
newest and best culinary arrangements, !
and I shall leave for Europe shortly
to get the best chef I can engage. The
waiters will be English-speaking ones
—I don’t fancy foreigners—and If there
Is anything to eat to be had anywhere
we will have it, and It will be properly
cooked, too. It will be a new departure
In a way, but we hope to make It a
success.”
MARK TWAIN’S STORY.
Be Is the Author of “Joan of Aro” In
Harper's Magaslne,
The Hartford Courant says that "It Is
now known for a fact that Mr. Clem
ens Is the author of the “Joan of Arc"
romance, now running its serial course
In Harper'B Magazine. This has been
guessed from the repeated occurrence
of phrases and modes of expression,
which are eminently characteristic of
Mark Twain. It Is surmised by the Lit
erary World of Boston that "the cloak
of anonymity” Is used because the au
thor may deem this his masterpiece,
and dislikes to have It hampered by re
membrance of the work he has done In
the past. This may be so, and If It be
Mr. Clemens, we sould suppose It likely
that he would be glad to shred away hls
old alias, Mark Twain, and be known
by hls real name, as an author—just as
many a popular writer has longed to
do. Dr. Holland for example, grew very
tired of being called "Timothy Tit
comb,” after the reason for using that
name no longer existed. But the “'Joan
of Arc,” which is exceedingly Interest
ing, Is not the first work to show Mr.
Clemens as a writer of deep and strong
purpose. He Is a humanitarian, a mor
alist, a philosopher In hls treatment of
human life, as even “Tom Sawyer” Indi
cated. and as the "Yankee In King Ar
thur's Court," “The Prince and the
Pauper” (that beautiful apologue of
“all sorts and conditions of men") and,
above all, "Pudd'nhead Wilson," have
abundantly proved. The last-named
tale of slavery Is one of the most pow
erful pictures of the evils of “the pe
culiar Institution" ever written, rank
ing beside “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” A
scholar Mr. Clemens never can be, for
he has waited too long, and thus he
Alls this romance of France many cen
turies ago with expressions which be
long to the uncultured west of the
United States of hls day, and to “Mark
Twain” above all. Nevertheless, “Joan
of Arc” Is going to be worth reading.
We may hope that Mr. Clemens has
read De Qulncey’s brilliant essay on the
Maid of Orleans. It Is In line with hls
conception of the character.
"WALKING EGYPT."
A Curious 8« ml-Religious Custom In
Southern Georgia.
"You pretend to know enough to
come to congress from Georgia," re
torted the colonel disgustedly, “and
don't know what ‘walking Egypt' Is?
Well, it’s a grand Indian file procession
to which the colored race gives way once
a year in its churches. They lift up
their voices in a horrible wall, the con
gregation does, and suddenly a negro
Jumps up in the aisle. Next a sister
jumps up. She places her hands on his
shoulders, and there they stand jump
ing up and down, stiff-kneed, like you’ve
seen sheep when feeling festive. Usu
ally these two are a misfit—he a small,
runty little fellow, she a big, strapping
wench. The singing moans on. Others
get up until the whole congregation Is
In procession, hands forward resting on
the shoulders In front, like a lot of pen
itentiary people going to dinner. Keep
ing a Jerky time to the moaning, th*
procession, like a long, black centipede,
jumps and Jerks Its way up one aisle,
down another.” says the Washington
Post, “until their religious fervor has
cooled. That’s ’walking Egypt,’ and I
suppose the rite was imported from
(-■nines 300 years ago."
MANHOOD RESTORED!
guaranteed to cure ail nervous disease*, such as Weak Memory, Loss of Brain
Power, Headache. Wakelalnesa, Lost Manhood, Nljrbtly Emissions, Nervous*
ness,all drains and loss of power In Generative Organs of either sex caused
by over exertion, youthful errors, excessive use or tobacco, opium orstlm
ulanu. which lead to Infirmity, Consumption or Insanity. Can be carried In
.vest pocket. Si per box. • tor *6. by mall prepaid. WlthaSS order wo
(live a written ssarastee U cure «»r refkina the money. Bold by nil
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fWMil In O’Neill, H«b.,bj MOtiiUtt&CO., Druggist*.
«k*‘*rwv.4M
Right Arm Paralyzed!
Saved from St. Vitus Dance, i
"Our daughter, Blanche, now flf-'
teen years of age, had been terribly 1
afflicted with nervousness, and baa
lost the entire use of her right arm.
We feared St. Vitus dance, and tried
the best physicians, with no beneflt.
She has taken three bottles of Dr.
lilies’ Nervine and has gained 31
pounds. Her nervousness and symp>!
toms of St. Vitus danco are entirely
gone, she attends school regularly. 1
and has recovered complete use of>
her arm, her appetite la splendid.” |
MBS. U. a BOLLOCK, Brighton, N. Y. i|
Dr. Miles’ Nervine
Cures.
Dr. HIIm'Nervine In sold on a positive
guarantee that the first bottle will benefit.
All druggists sell It at fit, # bottles for IS, or
It will be sent, prepaid, on receipt of pries
W the Dr. HIIm Medical Co., Elkhart, Ind.
For Bale br all Druggists.
READ.
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