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VOL. 59. WHOLE No. 2284.
Second National Bank TOWSON, Md. LET US COLLECT YOUR NOTES. When anyone gives you a note have it made payable at our Bank. Then deposit it with us for safe keeping and collection. We make it our business to look after it, and see that the maker is duly notified when it comes due, so he will not have any excuse for not paying it. When it is paid we place it to your credit and you can get the money whenever you want it. If you keep an account with the Second National Bank of Towson we collect your notes without charge. Come and do your banking business with us now. You will find it to your advantage to let us serve you. -lOPPIOBBSs — T HOMAB W. OFFUTT, ELMER J- COOK, l V|OE>PrEBIDENTB THOB. J. MEADS, President. Harrison Rider, * Cashier. 'DIRECTORS: Thomas W. Offutt. W. Bernard Duke, Henry C. Lonqnecker, Elmer j. cook, Wm. a. Lee, Z. Howard isaao, Harrison Rider, Chas. H. Knox, Noah E. Offutt, John i. yellott, W. Gill Smith, John V. Slade. Jan. 25—ly. .JOHN MATS LITTLE, ATTORNEY, PIPER BUILDING, TOWSON, Md. RECEIVERS’ SALE —OB*— Large Stock of Lumber —OB’ 'X'JdCIHJ— WILSON Sc ZKZZEUSnSTEir COMPANY, At its Lumber Yards in Towson, Md. By virtue of an order of the Cireult Court for Baltimore county, the undersigned, Receivers, will CONTINUE THE BUSINESS OF THE WILSON A KENNEY COMPANY for the purpose of CLOSING OUT THE LARGE STOCK OF LUMBER ON HAND. An appraisement of this stock has been made by Mb. H. E. BARTLESON, of Cockeysvllle, and COST PRICES have been placed by him on said lumber on an inventory, which Inventory is in the possession of Mb. KENNEY, at the Lumber Yards; and the Receivers WILL SELL DURING THE MONTHS OF SEPTEMBER AND OCTOBER Any Quantity Desired of Said Stock of Lumber for Cash, AT IO PER CENT. LEBS THAN THE INVENTORY PRICE, Which is 10 Per Cent. Less Than Cost. 49-Any person desiring to purchase Lumber can see the inventory and the prices at the office of the Company in Towson. The purchaser to take away the Lumber at his own expense as soon U purchased. _ WThis is a rare opportunity to obtain FIRST-CLASS LUMBER AT GREATLY REDUCED PRICES. Call promptly and examine the stock and make your purchase while you have the large stock from which to select. ERNEST C. HATCH,( RQrolvoro Sept. 19—tf ELMER J. COOK, Receivers. HilisjcellaueDtts. Muller & Yearley, HARNESS, TRUNKS aid BAGS, 343 N. Gay Street, BALTIMORE, Md. Blankets and Robes. In addition to Regular Line we offer BIG LINE OF MILL SIMPLES AT BARGAIN PRICES. Blankets From tLOOup. Lap Robes $2.00 4Vlt will pay you to see them. Special induce ments to early buyers. FREE dood ’SMS? EACB FREE Oct.lotMay3o Geo. W. Kirwan & Co. 13 N. CHARLES STREET, Between Baltimore and Fayette StreeU, BALTIMORE. Md.. | HABEEDASHEES I 4 \ SHIRT MAKERS. | SHIRTS TO MEASURE-™^****** ad ID ecial care. All shirts are made on our owa and our FIT AND FINISH have made STwell known as a SHIRT HOUSE. If you bar. not tried in, do to bj ordering a Sample Cartwright A Warners’ English Cnahnnkable Underwear has been the beat for over a hundred nan end will be for a hundred year* to come. (fgUBOTH PHONES. [JalyA-ly BDWAUD E. BURNS. FEANK BURNS. JOHN BURNS' SONS, Funeral * Directors, TOWSON, SM. C. * P. FhoM-TOWtON, T7-P. MchT-ly WILLIAM J. BIDOISON, FIRE insurance agent. Fir*. Tornado and Windstorm Poll* cios Issued. NO ABBKBBMKNT. —ntrRESEWTIWO— HOME FIRE INSURANCE CO. OF N. Y„ Asseta E3O U 00.000.0 0: GIRARD FIRE * MARINE INSURANCE CO. OF PH I LA., Assets *3,141.288.7?. OMee— Belalr Road end Maple Avenue. Haspehurg P. 0.. Baltimore Oonnty, Md. C. A P. and Maryland Phones. td/TK share of patronage will be appreciated. Dec. 28—ly PIANOS tuned In Any Part of the County. Address. JOSEPH A. NEUMAYER, Raspeburg, R. F. D., Md. C. A F- Tel.—Hamilton 4-k. [Sept. 28—ly "TmAURICE WATKINS A SON; —DEALERS IE — Staple, Fancy & Green Groceries Fruits in season. Fresh and Salt Meats. irull Une of Tobaocos, Foreign and Domestic Cigars, Ac. gept. 12—ly TOWSON, Md. IptißJCjeXla nzons. LtIIBER FOR SALE CHEAP T At My Mill at Shawan, BALTIMORE COUNTY, Md. 1" 1y 2" 2" LUMBER, $lO to sls per 1,000 feet. - ' —UhM.. pyCAN CUT TO YOUR ORDER*®* Framing Lumber for Barns & Houses. Also Bridge Lumber. -SHIPPING POINT— ASHLAND. BALTIMORE COUNTY, Md. Apply to H. L. CRUBE, 1009 American Building, Baltimore, Md. C. & P. Phone-724 St. Paul, or T. A. HANNA, Superintendent, Shawan, Baltimore county, Md. C. & P. Phone—Cookey 29-11. M OTC ■ lam in market for a TIMBER ItU IC . TRACT OF WHITE OAK, CHESTNUT, Ac., Ac., 100 TO 500 ACRES. Sept. 12—3 m J.T. KAUFFMAN & SON, Saddles, Harness, AND STABLE SUPPLIES, Including Brambles* Horse Foot Remedy, 408 ENSOR STREET, Oppo. No. 6 Engine House, BALTIMORE, Md. 0. A P. Telephone. DecJy ESTABLISHED 187 S. BOTH PHONES. DANXEL~ RIDER, INI ORRRNMOUNT AVENUE, BALTIMORE. Md., COMMISSION * MERCHANT Far the gale of May. Grata and Straw. Orders for Mill Feed, Gluten Feed, Cotton Seed Meal. CHI Cake Meat. Salt. Ac., will receive prompt attention. f Apl. 4-ly £tocH it) ll M fill Oakleigh Station, Md. A Pa. !t H, SM Miljm prom Towson. Constantly on hand A LABGE STOCK OF BOLES, TO SUIT ALL PUBPOSBB. —ALSO— mMrndb nrmpuc SMMrtl Purpose fIUIIUDU FOR SALE OR EXCHANGE. WHORSKS~B~OARPEDI C. A P. TELEPHONE. DUANE H.~WOE, Prop’r, TOWSON, Md. Oct.l9—ly GROVE FARM FALLS ROAD, North of Brooklandvllle, Md. PRIZE WINNING— Guernsey Cattle, Berkshire Hogs, Shropshire Sheep. FOR SAXE— A Few Registered Heifers, Between 4 months and 2 years old. Apply to JAS. McK. MEBRYMAN, R. F. D. Lutherville, Md. C. A P. Telephone—Towson 42. BepL2BtOot.l9 For “The Union.” XETJKA LAKE, HEW YORK. BY GEORGE E. TACK. Keuka’s tinted waters run In endless ripples to its shores. And gaily sparkle in the sun. Or gloom by rocks o’er shaly floors. The spring wind blows its fragrant breath, All sweet with orchard blossoms rare. That fluttering, fall and meet their death On altars newly green and fair. Far up the slopes the vineyards run. Their vines with pink leaves lightly dressed, That soon shall blush beneath the sun Of summer, ere their grapes are pressed. The songs of wild birds sweet are borne Upon tbe fluttering wings of day, All odorous with the scents of morn. From woods and blossoms of fair May. Far up the lake we swiftly tud, And pass Keuka to the right; Where stands the college in the sun. Its windows flashed with golden light. From shore to shore we cross, and then We pass Bluff Point, and onward row, Where widening waters softly span O’er caverns where no man may go. The tranquil skies look mildly down. Reflected in the deep blue lake, Each graceful cloud, in snowy gown Floats o’er our beads, tbe beams to break. Soon into Hammondsport we go And rest awhile, ere back we run. Beguiled by bright-eyed waves that flow And laugh ana sparkle in the sun. CAPTAIN JIMMY. During the vacation days several of the boys ot Linville, a small coun try village, decided upon spending a week or ten days on the banks of a beautiful river a mile distant from their homes. The place chosen for their outing was within a short walk of a big flour mill and was on a rocky cliff overhanging the banks of the river. Piercing this cliff were numer ous cavelike tunnels, scarce large enough to admit of a small ground animal. But the boys who had come there to “camp out’’ imagined that within the cliff at a certain distance from the small entrances they might find a large cave or inner cavern where might be found relics of a past age. “I tell you, kids,’’ declared Hank Jones, leader of the band, “that we’ll find something worth our while if we’ll dig into this cliff. All we’ve got to do is to enlarge one of these tunnels and then we can walk right into a cave that may outdo the Mam moth Cave of somewhere —I don’t just know the place.” “Pennsylvania, ain’t it?” asked Bert Jackson, meaning the noted cave in question. “Ho,ho,ho!”laughed Andy Thomas at Bert’s expense. “Pennsylvania? Well —I guess not. The Mammoth Cave is in old Kantuck, or so the geography says. You’d better find out something about caves before you talk about them.” “Well, I don’t know as it’s of any importance —the Mammoth Cave,” said Hank Jones. “The question just now before the public is : ‘Shall we organize a cave diggers’ union— and go to work at once?’ ” “Yep,” cried half a dozen voices, and not one said “no.” mill and borrow some digging imple ments,” said Hank. “It's too far to go home for ’em. I know old Mr. Perkins, the miller, and he’ll lend us some spades and picks. He trades at my father’s store, and he’ll remem ber me all right, all right.” So it was agreed that Hank and Bert should go to the mill—just around the bend in the river—and ask to borrow some digging imple ments with which to gain an entrance to the imagined cave. But upon reaching the mill the boys were told by the head miller that Mr. Perkins had gone to town, and that he would not take the liberty of lending any thing from the machine shop of the mill. Filled with disappointment Hank and Bert started to return to their camp ground when they saw a little chap busy about the mill. He was what is commonly called a ‘ ‘small hand,” and was performing small chores. At the moment that Hank and Bert beheld him he was cleaning dried dirt from a large spade, while nearby lay another implement wait ing for cleaning. “Say, they’re the very things we want,” declared Hank, pointing to the spades. “But I’ll bet we’ll have a time getting them from that kid. He’s old Perkins’ favorite ‘rousty,’ and is an orphan that he got from somewhere —I forgot where. But, say, let’s ask him for the spades any way. He can’t do anything but re fuse.” So saying, Hank approached the boy—whose name was Jimmy Malone —and said : “Say, Jim, don’t yon know me? I’m Mr. Jones’kid. Pa has the grocery store up town —the one by the postoffice, you know.” “Oh, yes,” said Jimmy, putting down the spade to chat with the boys. ‘ ‘Yes, I know your pa. I often go there on errands for Mrs. Perkins.” “Well, us kids —a lot of us—are down here on the river camping,” explained Hank. “And we’ve de cided to do some cave digging, if we can get the implements to dig with. Now, we want to borrow those spades you have there. If Mr. Perking was here he’d let us take ’em right off.” Jimmy looked undecided. “I don’t know about that,” he said, beginning to clean the spade. “Mr. Perkins is awful particular about his machinery and tools. He gives orders that noth in’ in the tool shop be loaned.” “Oh, he’d not refuse me, kid,” de clared Hank, determined now upon getting possession of the desired spades. “Come, let me take them. I’ll give you my word that they’ll both be returned to you early this evening.” “But I mustn’t let anything go out of the mill while Mr. Perkins is away, ’ ’ insisted Jimmy. And thereupon he took the spades and put them in the implement shop which was attached to the mill. Hank and Bert turned away ; but as they did so Hank called out to Jimmy, “We’ll get even with you yet, kid, for your smartness. So long 1” ‘ ‘That’s all right,” laughed Jimmy. Then, whistling merrily, he went about his work. A few days later Mr. Perkins sent Jimmy on an errand to a farm a mile distant from the mill. Jimmy, in making a “short cut” to the farm, TOWSON, MD., SATURDAY, OCTOBER 17. 1908. was obliged to pass the town boys’ camp, situated, as I have said, just round the bend in the river from the mill. As he was passing the camp he heard a familiar voice calling out to him: “Hello, there, Smart Alec I Want to get acquainted with us? We’re the cave diggers, and we know how to seek revenge on a chap like you.” Then, before Jimmy had a chance to say a word, half a dozen boys sur rounded him and began to torment him by calling him ugly names, and to strike him pretty sound blows. Jimmy, seeing that he had only the sixth part of a chance, decided not to fight, but to use calm reason. “Now, will you tell me, boys, what this all means?” he asked, trying to dodge the slaps from the various hands that swung about him. *“I ask you to please allow me to go on my way,: Mr. Perkins has sent me on an er rand, and I mustn’t be delayed.’) “Mustn’t is a pretty strong word to use in your present condition,” boldly laughed Hank, giving Jimmy a cuff on the ear which made it tingle and tingle. “Now, take that and that for your kindness in lending us the spades the other day.” And Hank gave Jimmy several other keen slaps across the cheek and ears. “I guess you’ll not refuse to lend spades to us again, if we ask for ’em, will you ?” “You bet I will,” replied Jimmy, with determination. “When I’m in charge of another person’s property I’ll protect it. If you want anything from Mr. Perkins you’ll have to go to him for it.” “Oh, thanks for the information,” sneered Hank. “But we got spades and picks, all that we wanted. And if you’ll turn around you’ll see our cave, one as fine as you’d find any where. And if you’d have behaved in a friendly way toward us cave dig gers we’d have invited you to go into it and explore it. But you’re a little Smart Alec, and we don’t want to have anything to do with you. So get along, and don’t come back this way, either.” So saying, Hank gave Jimmy a shove byway of emphasizing his words. Then, with a loud whoop, the boys ran to the mouth of the cave and crawled in, one at a time. But just as the last boy was half way into tbe cave Jimmy heard a smothered scream and, turning round, beheld that the dirt was crumbling from the mouth of the recently dug cave. He ran back with all possible speed and saw, to his horror, that the earth about the little cave’s entrance had fallen into the cavity, and the feet and legs of the last boy entering were still protruding. Without a moment’s delay Jimmy grabbed up a spade that lay uccke* -■■■&* 4or 4U. _l7 d 1- * and when he pulled him from the debris the poor, half-smothered fel low could scarcely speak, so exhaust ed were his lungs for want of air. “All the breath I could get was from the cave inside,” he gasped. “But, the other kids, I’m afraid they’ll smother.” “We’ve got to get ’em out,” declared Jimmy. “Here, get to work with me ; there’s no time for fooling.” Then came a faint wail from the interior of the cave, which was a chamber of some six feet square, and which the “cave diggers” had found on enlarging one of the little tunnels running into it from the outside. But so much dirt had crumbled into the entrance tunnel, which was about four feet in length and eighteen inches in height, that Jimmy and the res cued boy (by name, Dan Smith) had some difficulty in reaching the im prisoned boys. But Jimmy felt sure that enough air entered through the loose soil to keep the boys inside the cave alive for some time, and their cries for help assured him in this sup position, for every minute he could hear them yelling at the top of their voices: “We’re alive! Somebody dig us out of here ! Help! Help!” And Jimmy would call back to them: “Be patient. We'll soon show you daylight. Help is coming!” And all the time that he encouraged them he worked like a trooper, dig ging with a fury that astonished the less vigorous Dan Smith. After about ten minutes' of work Jimmy, with some aid from Dan, had a hole large enough for the boys to crawl out through. And a badly scared lot of half suffocated fellows came into daylight, heaving to fill their lungs with fresh air. “Gee, I thought onr time had come!” de clared Hank, spitting some dirt from his mouth. “But say who—” And then his eyes fell on Jimmy, who was resting on the handle of a spade, ' perspiration streaming from his face. ‘ ‘Say, did you you get—us— out?” Hank asked of Jimmy, his face flaming with a blush of shame. “Well, I helped,” replied Jimmy. “I got Dan Smith out, and together we did the rest. But that’s nothing.” “Nothing!” and Hank's voice quivered. “No, and it was nothing for me —coward that I was —to slap your face a little while ago, and noth ing for you to turn round and rescue us all, six cowards, from death, for as sure as we are standing here we’d have died in there if it hadn’t been for you, Jimmy. And for one I’m ready to say that you’re a hero and that I’m a blamed coward, or was a coward. But right here I want to say that your conduct today has made me ashamed of myself, and that after this minute I’ll try to act in every way as I think you, Jimmy, would act. You’re a brick, you are, and don’t any of you boys here forget it.” “He’s all right,” said Bert, batting his eyes to keep back tears of emo tion, as he grasped Jimmy’s shoulder and pressed it in a boyish way, trying to show his gratitude. “And, like Captain Hank of the Cave Diggers, I feel so ashamed of myself that I could hide my head in a hole and not look anybody in the face for a month.” “Well, you’ve had about all the hiding in a hole you ought to want for a lifetime,” laughed Jimmy, too kindbearted and forgiving to enter tain resentment against the boys who had been so unkind to him a short time before. “And now I must be off to attend to my errand. I’ll get a good scolding for having been so long about it, too, if I don’t look out.” “No, you won’t get a scolding, Jimmy, for I mean for us boys to go .in a body to the mill and report to Mr. Perkins your heroic conduct. And, what’s more, I mean to make a clean breast of the way we treated you a few minutes before the cave in of the tunnel. And I’ll also tell him how we wanted you to lend us the spades and picks belonging to the thill. Oh, I shan’t keep back a thing, even if the truth and the whole truth does put me in a bad light.” '“And we’re with you, Captain Hank,” cried five voices, and the cave diggers meant every word of what they said. That day on Jimmy’s return to the mill he found the “cave diggers” as sembled in Mr. Perkins’ private office, on the top floor of the mill. And from the way Mr. Perkins greeted Jimmy he knew the “cat was out of the bag,” as he expressed it afterward. And so it was, and Mr. Perkins was so pleased with his little “rousty” that he gave him the afternoon off to go merry-making with the “cave dig gers,” and slipped a dollar bill into his hands besides. “That’s to buy you any little gimcracks in town that you might want,” he explained. ‘ ‘And now, remember, you are to have a day off each week and a dollar bill with which to celebrate the holiday. When I get hold of an honest, brave and industrious boy I mean to make it worth his while to stay with me. And now get you off, young fellows, and put in the remainder of the day above ground. Let caves and cave digging alone.” “Yes, sir; thank you,” said Hank, bowing to Mr. Perkins. 1 ‘And we’re going to make Jimmy our captain. I resign in his favor. A captain should be brave, and today I proved my un worthiness to the office. ’ ’ And amidst a cheer from the six throats Jimmy was led from the mill and was called “Captain Jimmy the Brave.” —Washington Star. LOOKING AT THE DEAD. We do a great many strange things in this boasted age of civilization and refinement, and one of them is the custom of putting the dead on exhi bition and allowing—even inviting— friends, acquaintances and even stran gers to come and gaze at them. It will not do to call this a barbarous custom, for at least among some races of barbarians it is a practice not known. Why we follow this custom it is hard .lOisay. of course, who enjoy going to funer als, and who feel injured if they are not allowed an opportunity to look at the departed ones lying in their coffins. Bat these are exceptional. The aver age man and woman shivers at the sight of a dead face, and hastily passes by, wishing to forget it as soon as pos sible. It is not the face of the friend they have known, and its stony silence and awful change cause them to re gret that they have given it a place in memory that will hide the vision of the friend as they saw him in life. Yet these same persons submit to the custom over and over and arrange for its observance when death visits their own families, as if it were a privilege which could not be denied the public. It is apparently never considered that the dead have rights which ought to be respected, and that if they could speak they would forbid the display of their mortal frames to cold-eyed observers, preferring to be remember ed as they were in life. It is likely that*death takes on an added terror with many a person because of the thought that it involves helpless ex hibition of the lifeless body to a pro cession of shuddering mourners. — Indianapolis Star. WHY BE HONEST! A lady bought half a dozen hand kerchiefs at a store in town. When she opened the package at home she found she had seven. The next day, when down town, she called at the store to pay for the extra handker chief, for she concluded she wanted seven, and when she spoke to the clerk of the mistake and her purpose to pay tor the extra handkerchief the clerk looked up amazed. She was really startled, but caught her breath enough to say it was very unusual. Of course it was unusual, because mistakes of this kind are not frequent. People would surely not keep as their own what came into their hands by mistake. For that would be the same as stealing. It is morally just as bad, and legally, too, as if they put their hands into a till and took out money. If that lady had kept that seventh handkerchief, and said nothing about it, she would have been just as guilty as if she had slipped an extra one un der her cloak when she left the store. She might not have been put in jail for it, but she would be punished for it somehow, sometime. The penalty might not come in a stroke of misfor tune or sorrow, but it would in loss of character, of noble purpose, of lofty ideals. We cannot escape retribution. Murder will out. A person cannot even appear honest, square and above board if his conduct is tainted with faults and meanness. One of the worst mistakes we are guilty of is the belief that we can cover up mistakes. One of the noblest faiths we can prac tice is to be honest for the sake of honesty. —Ohio State Journal. A merchant who died suddenly some time since left on his desk a let ter he had intended mailing to a cor respondent. An Irish clerk, finding it, sent it off after adding : “P. S. — Since writing the above I have died.” “He puts his watch under his pil low every night.” “I notice he likes to sleep over i time.” MAKING THE BEST OF WHATEVER HAPPENS. Some people are thrown off their balance the moment anything goes wrong with them. They do not seem to have the ability to overcome imped iments and to do their work in spite of annoyances. Anybody can work when every thing goes smoothly, when there is to trouble him; but a man must be made of the right stuff who can rise above the things that annoy, harass, and handicap the weak, and do his work in spite of them. In deed, this is the test of greatness. As a matter of fact, the greatest achievements in all time* have been accomplished by men and women who have been handicapped, annoyed, per secuted, misunderstood, critized. But they have been great enough to rise above all these things and to do their work in spite of them. Few people are large enough to rise above their aches and pains and disap pointments. The majority are always talking about them, projecting their dark shadows into your atmosphere, cutting off your sunshine with their clouds. Their ailments and their hard luck and misfortunes seem to be the biggest things about them. You never meet them but they thrust them into your presence. The man who is not big enough to rise above things that trouble him, who can not overtop his aches and pains, annoyances and disappoint ments, so that they are of little con sequence in comparison with his great life aim, will never amount to much. There is an unwritten law for peo ple who are thoroughbred —the real gentleman and the real lady—which compels them to keep their troubles, their ailments, their sorrows, their worries, their losses, to themselves. There is a fine discipline in it. It mellows the character and sweetens the life. But when these things are not borne heroically, they mar the character and leave their ugly traces in the face, their hideous forms appear in the manner and disfigure the whole life. Learn to consume your own smoke. If you have misfortunes, pains, dis eases, losses, keep them to yourself. Bury them. Those who know you have them will love you and admire you infinitely more for this suppres sion. A stout heart and persistent cheerfulness will be more than a match for all your troubles. — Success. AN AGE OF COMFORT. A writer in an Eastern paper sees great danger in the existence of the luxuries now enjoyed or sought to be enjoyed, even by people of small means. Luxury, he says, raises one’s standard h mluAmUv* I X- • VlC* cnti^ will advance in the scale and form habits for his successors reaching the danger point. This is another form of the “sim ple life” argument of which we heard so much a year or two ago. The Pastor Wagner cult was based on the principle of plain living and high thinking ; this sees the destruction of self-restraint and moral degeneracy in the good things of the age. The same cry has been raised all along the way since the day when the Puritans by force of necessity lived the plain life, and yet even those who preach simplicity would not, if they could, return to the life of the fathers. Tele phone, telegraph, electric street cars, rapid transit, well-heated houses, fac tory-made or shop-made instead of home-made clothing, many varieties of food prepared for household use, innu merable labor-saving contrivances— all these are things that our ancestors of a generation or so ago knew noth ing about. They were luxuries when they first became known; they are necessities now and a part of the nat ural development of the age. The use of them is a part of twentieth cen tury life and no one dreams of the fol ly of refusing their use because they set a standard of living beyond that established by our ancestors. “PARCELING OUT DE PEOPLE.'’ Fishing, two boys strung their big catch on the same string. Passing a graveyard, says the Augusta (Ga.) Chronicle, they entered the gate to di vide the catch, dropping two fish just as they went inside the cemetery. Passing, an aged nergo heard the two boys: “I’ll take this one—you that one—l this one —you that one — I this one —you that one,” etc. The negro listened in dismay and ran away as rapidly as his old legs could carry him. He met his negro minister, who called: “Deacon, why you run in such ter ror?” “Declare, parson, I been down yon der by de graveyard, and over de fence heard de devil and de Lord par celing out de people atween ’em.” The parson laughed at the old man’s fright, and made him go back with him to the graveyard to convince him of his error. The boys were still dividing : “You take that—l take this, ’ ’ etc. Finally one boy asked : “What you going to do with them two at the gate?” This was more than parson or dea con could stand and both ran pell-mell, neither wishing to take any further chances, no matter what was going on just over the fence. Nellie— That Clara Sharpe is just the meanest, most utterly selfish girl I ever saw. She never thinks of any one but herself. Dora —Tell me about it. Nellie—l ran in there the other evening for a few moments, and while I was there Mr. Spooner called. It wasn’t long before he requested her to play. He’s passionately fond of music, you know. Well, what do you think that girl did? She asked him to come to the piano and turn the music for her, so that I couldn’t talk to him. Fine feathers do not always make fine birds. Sometimes they make a little goose. HIS NAME IS SMITH. It wouldn’t have happened if his name had been an unusual one ; but his name is Smith, and he lives in a small town in Vermont. He owns a Ford Runabout that he purchased from Charley Fay, manager of the Ford Boston branch. The car had been running fine for several months and Smith had written several times to say how delighted he was. But one day there came a change in the form of a letter that detailed all the ills a motor car is heir to, and winding up with a request for imme diate information as to what to do to make the motor perform as of yore. Fay diagnosed the case as well as he could and sent him a bunch of “ab sent treatment” by return mail. But it was of no use. A telegram stated all the expediments suggested had been tried, but the motor would not “mote.” Fay wired for more symp toms. In reply he would receive in formation the engine after much cranking would start, run for a few seconds, smoke, spit and emit a terri ble stench. ‘‘Seems as if it’s running hot,” ended the telegram. Fay sug gested examining the pump, commu tator, carburetor, coil and everything else he could think of, and concluded by advising, “put plenty of oil on the engine base.” Smith replied, “noth ing doing.” Then Fay got him on the telephone. “What kind of cylinder oil are you using?” “Same as you sent me last week,” replied Smith hotly. “That’s good cylinder oil,” said Fay, “but I cannot understand the engine heating—put in some more oil.” “Got the case half full now,” yell ed back Smith. “Well, put in some more,” replied Fay, as he slammed the receiver back on the hook. In half an hour a telegram told Fay he could send an expert to make the car run or take baefc his old machine. It was in the middle of the selling season. Runabouts were going at the rate of ten a day and every competent man was required to tune up the new ones. But there was no way out of it, a man must be sent. “Half a day to go, half an hour to make the engine run and another half day to return,” growled Fay, “wish that fellow could think of one symp tom he didn’t tell me so I could tell him what ails his car. Man was absent three days. When he returned he met the infuriated manager, who asked, “What on earth kept you so long—what have you been doing ?’ ’ “Took his engine all apart, cleaned it, and put it back in.” “Wfry,- vffoat was wrong with it?” r>f light brown liquid before his chier ‘ ‘That looks litre good cylinder oil, ” said Fay. “Looks like it, yes—that’s, the trouble. It’s maple syrup !” Strange as it may seem, there are two Smithsin this Vermont town. A friend had shipped a can of maple syrup to one on the same day and by the same express company that was carrying the can of cylinder oil from Fay to the Ford owner. Cans got mixed on the way. When the expert took the motor apart he found the cylinder full of maple syrup, the bear ings full of syrup and the muffler choked with the half-burnt wax. Fay is now wondering how the other Smith relished the cylinder oil on his pancakes. — Pottland ( Me .) Express. GOING INTO DEBT. The Middletown Register advises working men to buy a lot and gradu ally get a home of their own, going into debt to do so. The advice is good. The average man need not fear a debt of reasonable proportions; indeed, debt has been the making of many a man, through giving him an incentive to work and save for—an object in life. Even men who are very well off, financially, are fre quently in debt, through the accumu lation of additional property, then ap plying their earnings toward pay ment. Such a plan sharpens a man’s business qualifications, makes him more industrious, and prevents the waste of money for things harmful and not essential. No man should go in too deep: not to the extent that a debt stands as a a continuel worry and burden, with but slight chance of ever getting clear with the world, nor should a debt be assumed in which the chance of get ting rid of it depends on extraordinary good luck ; but, a man can easily afford to take average chances, and be all the better for it, maintaining a good credit at the same time. The Regis ter says; “Every laboring poor man should buy himself a town lot, get that paid for, and then work to make the neces sary improvements. A little here and a little there will indue time pro duce you a home of your own, and place you out of the landlord’s grasp ; remember that fifty dollars a year saved in rent, will in a very few years pay for your home, and the money it costs you to move and shift about, without a loss of furniture and time, pay the interest of a five hundred dol lar judgment against your property, until you can gradually reduce it to nothing. You can all buy that way —why do you not risk it ? If you fail you are no worse off —if you suc ceed, as any careful man is sure to do, you have made a home and established a basis equal to another’s which will start you in business. “IT ’pears tew me,” remarked the rural philosopher, “that law air a heap sight like a colt.” “How’s that?” queried the hired “Somebody has tew break it afore yew kin tell whether it’s enny good or not,” explained the old granger. i Writing poetry is easy enough ; the uneasy part is to get it printed* ESTABLISHED 1850. women:were scarce. i There were few women in the Cal : ifornia mining camps in the old days, i and the advent of an emigrant wagon with a woman in it caused a furore, as is proved by the following incident from the reminiscences of former Sen ator William M. Stewart: “Women were so scarce in California at that time that this was sufficient to arouse the whole camp. The ‘boys,’ as we were called, were scattered along the coyote diggings fora distance of about four miles, and when anything unu sual happened the words, ‘Oh, Joe 1’ would be passed along the whole line. When I saw the feminine raiment I raised the usual alarm, ‘Oh, Joe !’ and this called the attention of the miners on Buckeye hills, where I was, to the clothesline which had attracted my notice. They gathered around on the hill, nearly surrounding the covered wagon and its contents. The rush of the boys in the immediate vicinity to see the wonderful sight attracted those farther away, and in less than ten minutes two or three thousand young men were anxiously watching the wagon, clothes and fascinating lin gerie. In alarm the man that belong ed to the woman inside stuck his head out of a small tent beside the wagon. I assured him that no harm was in tended, but that we were very anx ious to see the lady who was the own er of the clothes. This aroused her curiosity sufficiently to induce her to pull the curtain of the tent aside so that her face could be discovered, but not fully seen. “I then proposed that we make a donation to the first lady that had honored our camp with a visit. I took from my camp a buckskin bag, used for the purpose of carrying gold and invited the boys to contribute. They came forward with great eager ness and poured out of their sacks gold dust amounting to between $2,- 000 and $3,000. I then proposed to appoint a committee to wait on the lady and present it. The motion was unanimously carried, and one of the gentlemen appointed on the committee suggested myself aschairman. I took the sack of gold and went within about thirty feet of the tent and made as good a speech as I could to induce the lady to come out, assuring her that all the men about her were gen tlemen, that they had seen no ladies for so many months and that the pres ence of one reminded them of their mothers and sweethearts at home. I told her that the bag of gold was hers on condition that she would come out and claim it. Her husband urged her to be brave, but when she finally ven tured out about half way the cheers were so vociferous that she was scared and ran back. “She repeated this performance slowly rar ffluogmu get net away from the little tent so the boys could have a good view of her. I suppose half an hour was occupied with her running back and forth while the boys looked on in admiration, when I finally gave her the bag, with all the good wishes of the camp. She grabbed It and ran into the tent like a rabbit. The next morning the wagon, oxen, man and owner of the inspiring apparel were gone, and we never heard of them in after life.” A HOGBTORY. John S. Duncan tells the following in the Indianapolis News: In the time when Indiana bog 1- could be seen in every woods-pasture, a stranger on horseback riding along a country road saw a lot of hogs acting in a strange way. They would run here and there first to one tree and then to another, in the greatest excitement, would rub themselves against these trees and squeal and squeal as though possessed as were those hogs in Palestine that ran down into the sea. The stranger could not understand it. Riding on a little further he came to a farmer in the road. “Are them your hogs?” asked thetraveler. “Whatonairth’s the matter with ’em ?” “Wal, said the farmer in a whisper, *l’ll tell ye. ’Long last fall I lost my voice and couldn’t poor-ee to ’em to come to feed; so I took a club and pounded op a tree. This Spring the woods is full of woodpeckers, and when they tapon the trees, the hogs think they’re going to be fed I” REMEDY FOR CHOKING. “Raising the left arm as high as you can will relieve choking much more rapidly than the act of thump ing one’s back,” said a physician, “and it is well that every one should know it, for often a person gets choked while eating where there is no one near to thump him. Very frequently at meals and when they are at play children get choked while eating, and the customary manner of relieving them is to slap them sharply on the back. The effect of this is to set the obstruction free. The same thing can be brought about by raising the left hand of the child as high as pos sible, and the relief comes much more quickly. In happenings of this kind there should be no alarm, for if the child sees that older persons or parents get excited the effect is bad. The best thing is to tell the child to raise its left arm, and immediately the difficulty passes away.” NOT QUITE READY. ' At a Sunday school convention held recently in a small village, a junior league was being organized. The superintendent made an address to the children of some length and at the conclusion of his remarks, asked them this important question : “Will each boy and each girl who wants to go to Heaven, please stand ?’ ’ Every 5 one arose with the single exception of 1 one little boy named Tommy Jommy. “Why, Tommy,” asked thesuper -1 intendent with much surprise, “do you not want to go to Heaven ?” ! Tommy sat very still for several l seconds, sobbing bitterly, and finally • replied, very faintly, “Not yet.” ; Hs is a mighty clever man who can be smart without showing it.