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VOL. 60. WHOLE No. 2314.
THE COMMERCIAL BANK OF MARYLAND BELVEDERE AVENUE, Near Reisterstown Road, ARLINGTON, Md. . . O' — CAPITAL STOCK, $25,000. . . ..b ...—. 3STOW OPEN POE BUSINESS. >P Dom a general Banking Business In all that Is consistent with safe and careful man .(<meiit* The locution of oar Bank make, ft the most convenient place for a large number of residents of Baltimore county to transact their financial business. During the short time our Bank has been open for business the amount of deposits has reached a success far In excess of our expectations. We have a SAVINGS DEPARTMENT and pay Interest on money deposited there. Call and see ns and we will explain why It will be to yonr advantage to open an account with us. Prompt attention given to all collection business entrusted to us. . Q a —: OFFICERS: CHAS. T. COCKE V, Jr., JOHN K. CULVER, Ist Vice-President. CHARLES E. SMITH, President. HOWARD E. JACKSON, 2d Vice-President. Cashier. —:DIREOTORB: CHARLES T. COCKEY, Jr., HOWARD E. JACKSON, ROBERT H.McMAHNS, ARTHUR F. NICHOLSON, J. B. WAILES, MAX ROBEN. JOHN K. CULVER, GEORGE W. ALT, H. D. HAMMOND, J. FRANK SHIPLEY, H. P. EASTMAN. Dec. 26—ly Second National Bank TOWSOIST, Md. fWe invite the accounts of Individuals, Firms, Corporations, Societies, A R Executors, Administrators, Trustees, Ac. —o— A No account too large for us to handle with safety, and none too small I I to receive our most careful consideration. || ft Collections Made. # Loans Negotiated. Banking in All Its Branches. t EVERT POSSIBLE ACCOMMODATION FOR OUR DEPOSITORS. V —i OPPICBHS — Thomas W. offutt, Elmer J. Cook, l Vice-Presidents. Thos. J. Meads, President. Harrison Rider, 1 Cashier. THOMAB W. OFFUTT. W. BERNARD DUKE, HENRY C. LONQNEOKER, ELMER J. COOK, WM. A. LEE, Z. HOWARD ISAAC, Harrison Rider, Chas. H. Knox, Noah E. OffutpT JOHN I. YELLOTT, W. GILL SMITH, JOHN V. SLADE. Feb. 6—ly i; Make Life Worth Living. ji 1 | a Hard times come to most everybody. Life I. i ’ | i /I has more ups than downs. Right now, while 11 % < ' , \l| you are making, you ought to be saving; l ilj <[ ‘ , AVM then when the downs come you have some- <, thing on which to fall back. J ► Where Is the money you have been earning < ’ , all these years ? You spent it and somebody < [ J ■'jtvi else put It in the Bank. Why don’t you put J i ( ' if II your own money in the Bank for yourself ? ||l ' % •? II Why let the other fellow Bank what you IV * J flfc Independent and Start a Bank Account for Yourself With ; The Towson National Bank, i; TOWSON, MD. || i \ DIHBOTOnS, \ ‘ \ JOHN CROWTHER, President; D. H. RICE, Vice-President; 3 \ \ 1 Col. Walter 8. Franklin, Lewis M. Bacon, J ► . I Hon. J. Fred. C. Talbott, Wilton Creenway, < | ; > John S. Blddlson, Ernest C. Hatch. <, .; Emanuel W. Herman, W. 0. ORAUMER. Oashier. !; - Oct. fjfcißCcllancous. 'tUcKETrs Gape Cube KILLS Tttf WORM AS itWMTKINOWIi 5J V Stt&V TC.fIACI<BTT |P HILLOftMa tWWY. It's a powder. The chicks inhale it.NKills both worm and germ. Whole brood treated in five minutes. Retail price. 25c.; by mail, 35c. For sale by drug and general stores. Write for full information. Address, T. G. HACKETT. A pi. 10—8m] Hillsboro, Md. Eggs for hatching i EGGS FOB HATCHING! I am now booking orders for immediate and future deliveries of EGGS THAT WILL HATCH—guaranteed fertile. These eggs are from THOROUGHBRED BTOCK. Barred Plymouth Rocks 11.00 setting 15 White Plymouth Rocks 1.00 Single Comb White Leghorns 1.00 “ Single Comb Black Minorcas 1.00 Single Comb Black Orpingtons.... 1.50 “ EUREKA POULTRY YARDS, JOHN LIPPINCOTT, Proprietor, Feb. 6—tf] Belalr, Md. MITcOMB WHITE LEGHORNS! LARGE WHITE BIRDS. THE KIND THAT LAY WINTER AND SUMMER. I have bred these birds for three years and have never failed to get winter eggs. I also took 3 first and 5 second prizes at Timonlum Fair last fall. ®-Eggs for etching. Feb. 20-ly] Towson, Balto. county, Md. EGGS for HATCHING BARRED PLYMOUTH ROCK, BUFF ORPINGTON. 75c. for 13 Packed for Shipment. 50c. for 13 at My Yards. : : WCall and see my stock."** SAHTL D. BARKLEY, SPECIALNOTICE! MESSRS. GEO. M. GARDNER & CO. 181 Light Street, Baltimore, Md., Desire to inform those whom It may concern that they have on band New $ Old Canvas of All Weights 4 Sizes Which they will make up for you into Wagon Covers, Hay Covers, THRESHING CLOTHS, AND COVERS OF ANT KIND AND FOR ALL PURPOSES. At most reasonable rates. A call is respectfully solicited. Mail orders given prompt attention. May B—3m* WANTED—>• LARGE TREES, Walnut, Poplar, Chestnut and Oak. Apply to or address— JAMES W. SHEA, Apl. 10—tf] LUTHERVILLE, Md. llXiscjeXlaruotis. WNT^STYtES IN ALL SHADES, From $15.00 to $30.00. HARRY W. GANSTER, -&T AILOR^ 512 and 514 North Gay Street, BALTIMORE, Md. Apl. 17—ly Money has been lost by paying too high prices for goods. See us, we can save you money on SEWING MACHINES, all makes, BICYCLES SPORTING GOODS, all kinds, HOUSEFURNISHINGS, etc. Victor and Edison Talking Machines on easy payments. 12 Victor and Edison Records 50c. cash and 25c. per week. S9*Mall this “ad.” to us and we will mail you FREE OF CHARGE a useful present. Differ ent kinds for ladles and gentlemen. wm. McAllister & sons, 881 W. Baltimore Street, Baltimore, Md. May B—ly WALL PAPERS^ —AND— - WINDOW SHADES. My new line is all thatcould be desired, showing The Latest and Most Exclusive patterns and novelties. Neat and tasty work assured you at moderate prices. mr' Won’t you favor me with an order? City and Country Work receive personal and prompt attention. FRANK B. NORRIS, 1058 N. GAT STREET, Cor. Chase Street, BALTIMORE. Md. WTelephone. Apl. 24—ly Plovers, Plaits, k FOR WEDDINGS JfND FUNERALS, AT REASONABLE RATES. Special Attention Given to Ornamental Gardening. JOHN L. WAGNER, Florist, W. JOPPA ROAD, TOWSON, Md. C. & P. Phone—Towson 8-F. [Nov. 21—ly E. SCOTT PAYNE CO. 368 and 364 N. Gay Street, Baltimore, Md. Headquarters for Blacksmith and Horseshoers’ Supplies and Builders' Hardware, Bar Iron, Steel Springs. Axles, Wheels, Shafts, Spokes, Rims, Hubs, Horse Shoes. Horse Shoe Nails. Horse Shoe Pads, Rubber Tires, Rubber Tire Channels and Appliances, Wheelwright Material and Suppllas. Headquarters for Field and Lawn Fence, Lawn Swings, Lawn Mowers, Lawn Sprinklers. A pos tal cara will reach us. [Apl.24tJan.3o Fob “The Union.” A CRYSTAL MOBBING. BY EDWIN HIOOINB. You stood beside the window paiie. The clouds were dark and pouring rain. The aay was dark, your heart was sad Walt;—the morrow will make you glad. Lo! crystals flashing on the breeze. They glow afar on forest trees ; Beautiful jewels, rich and rare Free to you as the morn’s pure air. With diamond crowns, clusters of pearls, See, every glowing height unfurls Its standards of the ice and sun As warriors stand when victory’s won. Even the shrubs, the meadows sere, Resplendant shine with love and care, For everywhere the eye doth see The glory of a mystery. No sinster hand can steal away, No to enraptured vision say, Tou have no right to look upon The slendor of the ice and sun. When darksome clouds on us descend, And things we cannot comprehend. No faltering step, nor helpless cry; With steady trust look to the sky. The morrow's sun will shine again, Jewels shall flash where there was rain; And every struggling, valiant one Shall cloudless greet the golden sun. There’s crystal In that city’s street, Beautiful prints of angels’ feet To gates of pearl and crystal sea Beautiful land of mystery. TILLIE S ADVENTURE. Tillie Clifford was sitting one even ing in the doorwaj’ of her humble home, an old brown farmhouse, situa ted two miles away from the center of the village of N . She was wondering what made her father so quiet and sober of late, and why she caught her mother every now and then wiping away the tears with a stealthy hand. She heard their voices now, as they were talking in a low tone in the kitchen, and once in awhile she caught the words, ‘mortgage, ’ ‘fore closure,’ ‘ejection,’ and the like, and she pondered very soberly upon their meaning. Pretty soon her father went out to attend to some matters at the barn, and her mother called her to come in. “Sit down, my child,” she said as Tillie entered, “I want to have a lit tle talk with you.” The girl obeyed, rightly thinking that whatever had been troubling her parents of late was about to be re vealed. “We have been harassed greatly for some time now,” her mother be gan, “for fear we may lose our little home.” “Lose our home I Why, mother, I thought father owned it, and that it was left to him by Grandfather Clifford.” “So it was, my dear; and your father received it free from encum brance, but in an evil hour he put a mortgage of three hundred dollars upon it in order to loan that amount to a friend. Not long after that the friend failed and the money was lost. The mortgage could have been fore closed years ago, but kind Mr. Day, who held it, has repeatedly said: ‘Never mind, Mr. Clifford, as long as you pay the interest the money can remain invested in the house.’ He died, as you know, a few weeks since, and the nephew, who inherits the property, says we must pay the three hundred dollars before three months, or leave the house.” “Oh. mother ! Will it be possible for father to pay it?” asked Tillie, anxiously. “There is only one hope. We have thought of a friend, about thirty miles from here, who may possibly let us have the money and take the mort gage.” “I do hope he will, mother; it would be dreadful if we have to leave the old home.” “It will be as God wills,” replied Mrs. Clifford, “but we must make every effort we can to save it. We are going to take the journey in our own wagon, to save expenses, and have decided to start tomorrow morn ing. You will not be afraid to stay here alone through the day, will you ? We have arranged with your Uncle John to come here and sleep the night we are away.” “It will be dreadfully lonesome here with you both away ; but I’m not the least bit afraid to stay,” re plied Tillie, bravely. As they wished to make an early start in the morning, the family re tired very soon after the father came in from doing his barn chores. Tillie awoke at sunrise, and found that her father and mother had been up for quite awhile, and the prepara tions for their journey were nearly made. “Don’t leave the house, except to go a short distance; and, Tillie, be very careful about fire,” said Mr. Clifford, as they drove away. Tillie gave the desired promise, kissed them good-bye and then went into the house to try to forget her loneliness as best she could in doing up the morning housework. She had a long day all to herself, and many a little piece of work that had been put by for a favorable time, she managed to finish. In the after noon she happened to think of an in teresting book which one of her school friends had loaned her a day or two before, and she sat down by the win dow to enjoy it. She was so absorb ed in its contents that she was star tled when she heard a sweet voice say : “Shall I intrude if I step in and rest myself for a few moments?” Tillie looked up and a young lady beautifully dressed stood before her. She had a sweet, winning face and the most faultless grace of manner. Tillie was instantly charmed with her strange visitor, and quickly replied; “Not in the least; walk right in.” The young lady took the chair offered, which was a cushioned rocker, and sank into its depths in utter weariness. “I was journeying with my friends,”sheexplained,“andsomehow have strayed away from them and we have become separated.” “I dare say they will find you,” said Tillie, hopefully, “and in the meantime you can rest here as long as you wish.” “Thank you ; this is such a clean, cozy little home, it will be a real treat to stay here awhile,” replied the young lady. The two girls were soon chatting as familiarly as though they had TOWSON, MD., SATURDAY, MAY 15. 1909. always known each other. As it grew toward night and the strange lady’s friends did not appear, Tillie wondered that she seemed so perfectly easy about her situation. Not long after tea the young lady said : “If you will allow me to spend the night here I will make some ar rangements by which I can meet my friends farther on in the morning.” “I shall be very glad to have yon stay,” replied Tillie, “as my father and mother have gone on a journey, and it will be pleasant to have com pany.” By and by Uncle John came in, and was introduced to the visitor, who made herself agreeable to him, as she chatted about crops and other mat ters that she thought would interest him. She soon retired, and Tillie gave her the spare bed room, which opened out of the parlor. “Where did that young woman come from?” asked Uncle John, as Tillie returned to the kitchen. She explained the story of her having become separated from her friends and seeking rest there. “Rather a strange statement, I should think,” replied Uncle John. “Do you think there is anything wrong about her, Uncle John ?” asked Tillie anxiously. “I won’t say that there is,” he re plied, “but there is a strange glitter in her eyes once in awhile that I don’t like. I think she’ll bear watch ing.” There were two bedrooms leading from the kitchen. Tillie occupied one and Uncle John retired to the other, where Mr. and Mrs. Clifford usually slept. About midnight Tillie awoke with a start and thought she heard strange sounds in the kitchen. She crept out of bed and looked through the crack of the door, which was ajar. There she saw a sight which froze her blood with terror. Her young lady guest was standing by the table, wildly brandishing the carving knife, whose edge every now and then she would apparently try upon her finger. “Ha ! She’ll make a nice victim !” she muttered ; “her neck is so thin and white. The fiends tell me I’ll have a fount of blood tonight. Ha, ha !” Tillie tried to scream, but she could not utter a sound. To her intense relief, Uncle John, who, as he after wards related, “had not undressed at all, but had slept with one eye open,” rushed out of his bedroom and seiz ing the frantic woman, took the knife from her hand and marched her back to her room. By the time she reach ed there the fierce glitter had disap peared from her eyes and she seemed as docile as a child. Shutting her into the bedroom and barricading the door, Uncle John returned again to the kitchen. In the meantime Tillie had dressed and stood there with a white face, awaiting him. “Ob, Uncle John !” she cried in a hoarse whisper, “I do believe she meant to kill me ; what does it mean ?” “It means, child, that the woman is crazy, and has probably escaped from some lunatic asylum.” “Oh, dear ! I’m afraid to stay here another minute Uncle John, and as for sleeping, I’m sure I shall not close my eyes again tonight.” “Her madness comes on by spells, I think, and we won’t be troubled by her any more tonight. You go to bed and I’ll keep watch the rest of the night,” said Uncle John. Assured thus of safety, Tillie re tired to her room, but she was too excited to sleep soundly, and only caught a short nap now and then. Next morning the young lady came out daintily dressed to breakfast and looked and appeared so perfectly sane that Tillie was fain to believe that the incident of the night before was only a horrible dream. She retired to her room as soon as the meal was finished, and while Uncle John and Tillie were consulting as to what should be done, they were startled to see a handsome carriage with a span of horses drive up. A pale, anxious-looking gentleman came hastily np the walk and knock ed upon the door. “Have you seen anything of a young lady, dressed in a black silk dress and sack, and a white hat, trimmed with lace and feathers?” he asked, hurriedly. “Yes, sir, she is here now,” said Tillie. “Won’t you come in and see her ?” “Thank God !” he exclaimed, fer vently. Then, turning to the lady in the carriage, he called out: “Dismiss your fears, my dear. Alice is here.” The lady soon after entered and Tillie immediately conducted her to her daughter’s room. Upon her return to the kitchen Tillie told the circumstances of the young lady’s arrival, and Uncle John related her midnight visit to the kitchen and the muttered threats they had heard her make while holding the knife. “My unhappy child,” said the poor father in a broken voice, while the tears rolled down his cheeks. “She has been bereft of reason for three years and been the inmate of an asy lum until recently. Her keepers thought she was so much better that they let her come out and try a change. While we were riding slowly along yesterday she suddenly leaped from the carriage and plunged into a piece of woods by the road. I fol lowed as fast as I could, but she es caped me, and her mother and I have been suffering tortures of sus pense in regard to her fate. She has spells of frantic thirst for blood. I shudder to think what a tragedy might have happened here.” “It was a narrow escape,” said Uncle John, “as it happened, there was no harm done and I am glad that your daughter is safe.” Soon after the young lady appear ed, accompanied by her mother and dressed for her journey. As her father passed out of the door he thrust a bill into Tillie’s hands with the re mark : “I owe you a debt of gratitude for sheltering my daughter and you shall hear from me again.” Tillie opened her hand and a crisp five-dollar bill lay upon her palm. She had never owned so much money in her life before and she gazed at it in pleased wonder. How long the time seemed till night, for then she expected her parents home. At last they drove slowly into the yard and from the expression of sadness upon their faces, she knew their errand had been a fruitless one. “Your father’s friend was unable to make us the loan, and he has come home feeling utterly discouraged,” said Mrs. Clifford, as she sank weari ly into a chair. “I’m so sorry,” said Tillie, with trembling lips, “but it isn’t so bad to lose our home as though some one of ns had been killed or gone crazy.” Then, as her father entered soon after, Tillie told all about the events of the previous day and night. As they realized the danger that had threatened their only child, Mrs. Clifford exclaimed, thankfully: “You were right, Tillie, in saying that our trouble is not the worst that could befall us ; we’ll bear it with be coming fortitude, now that all our lives are spared.” A few evenings after, while the family were sitting together in the twilight, a neighbor, who had been to the postoffice, threw a letter into the open door. Tillie lighted a candle and her father gazed curiously at the direction and the postmark. “Whom can it be from?” he ex claimed, turning it over and over in his hand. “Why, father, open it and see,” said Tillie, laughing, “that’s the quickest way to find out.” He did so, and a check for five hun dred dollars fell out. “Here, Tillie, read it,” he said, with a trembling voice. “I can’t think what it means.” It read thus: Mb. Clifford— Dear Sir .-—Having obtained your name and address as I passed your village the other day, I take very great pleasure In send ing the inclosed check. It is only a slight return for the service your daughter rendered to my afflicted child. I beg that you will use the money for your own or her benefit, as you may see best. Yours truly, Herman St. Clair. “O, father,” said Tillie, clapping her hands with delight, “that will pay off the mortgage and we can keep our home after all.” “We can thank God,” he said; “what a merciful Providence sent that young woman to our door.” “God has many ways of bringing about the same result,” said Mrs. Clif ford, reverently. I have had faith to believe He would help us in our trou ble, but I never dreamed it would come in the way it has. How can we be thankful enough?” A few days after the whole family went upon a journey and when they returned they brought with them a clear title to the little homestead. After paying the mortgage they in vested one hundred and fifty dollars in the bank fer Tillie, and the re maining fifty they presented to Uncle John, thus enabling the old gentle man to purchase some farm imple ments he had long needed. Tillie never forgot this lesson of her girlhood or the lesson of God’s watchful care over us, which it taught her. —Monthly Magazine. THE KINDNESS OF LINCOLN. When Thomas Lincoln was moving from Pigeon Creek, Indiana, to their Illinois home his son, Abraham, proved the extreme kindness of his heart in at least two instances. On both of these occasions the kindness was to animals. And that speaks volumes. In those days there was no Society for the Prevention of Cru elty to Animals. There were next to no schools, let alone refined teach ers to instill in the mind of the little western boy lessons of kindness. But his mother had taught him to be kind above all else. This seed fell into a heart naturally kind. Many a time the wheels of their great moving wag ons sank hub-deep in the mire. Abra ham was first to put his shoulder to a wheel and give the long-suffering ox en help. Their little dog in crossing one stream got left behind. The puppy set up a pitiful yelping. And, though he wasn’t worth going after, Abraham waded back after him bare footed. He wouldn’t even take the cattle back through the icy water. Having waded across he picked up the now happy dog and waded back again. This was in the severest win ter weather. His only explanation was, “I cannot bear to see even a puppy in distress.” A “MURPHY” STORY. Kansas newspapers are “passing on” this story which is going the rounds, and the unanimous verdict is that it is good. It is to the effect that a freckle-faced girl stopped at the post office and yelled out: “Anything for the Murphys?” “No, there is not.” “Anything for Jane Murphy?” “Nothing.” “Anything for Ann Murphy?” “No.” “Anything for Tom Murphy ?” “No.” “Anything for Bob Murphy?” “No, not a bit.” “Anything for Terry Murphy ?” “No, nor for Pat Murphy, nor Den nis Murphy, nor Pete Murphy, nor Paul Murphy, nor for any Murphy— dead, living, born or unborn, native or foreign, civilized or uncivilized, savage or barbarous, male or female, black or white, franchised or unfran chised, naturalized or otherwise. No, there is positively nothing for any of the Murphys, either individually, jointly, severally, now and forever, one and inseparable.” The girl looked at the postmaster in astonishment, and said: “Please do look if there is anything for Clar ence Murphy.” Many a man claims to be complete master of himselt who hasn’t much to boast of. WHY OLD SHOE GIVES LUCK. When any one embarks on a new undertaking, such as departing totake up a new post or going on the anx ious journey of application for a place of any kind, it is a common and pleas ant custom for relatives and friends to throw an old shoe or slipper after the traveler for luck, says the Chica go Joutnal. It must not be a new one, nor must the slipper be unworn, or the token of good fortune is nil. Though common, this custom is not observed so much for ordinary occa sions of life as it is for weddings. At nearly every wedding, when the new ly married couple start on the honey moon, some relative or friend stands ready to throw the old slipper or shoe after the carriage. Only those who have had all the claim on the bride hitherto should throw the slipper if its right luck token is to be observed. The nearest friend of the bride, her father, or the one who gave her away, should be the shoe thrower. And the shoe is thrown not at or after the bride, but directly at the bridegroom. It is for him in reality, and is, in effect, a token of the transference of his wife from her friends to his care. Just as the wedding ring is the sur vival of the badge of servitude, the owner’s mark for his slave, so is the old shoe a survival of an old usage that has come down to us from an cient customs in Eastern lands. When possession of land or of any thing else was yielded up by an own er to a buyer the transference of the former owner’s shoe to the new owner was a mark of exchange. When the possession given up was of old standing this was implied by the giving over of a shoe that had been worn ; hence the reason for old shoes, not new ones, thrown after bridal carriages. In Eastern lands if a man wished to give token that he claimed land and meant to occupy it he threw his shoe upon it. Not a new shoe, but one taken from his foot. This was the symbol of ownership. If the first owner meant to dispute possession he cast the shoe back. The latter reason is why it is un lucky for either the bride or bride groom to pick up the shoe if it should fall near them and throw it back. Always has it been considered a token of bad luck to do this, yet sometimes in ignorance of this it has been done, of course playfully. By this custom the bridegroom is really refusing to take up his new possession. The shoe means occu pancy, and he should keep it. If in that old Eastern time a man delivered over his shoe as a sign that he resigned possession and the new owner refused to take it then he was rejecting the land or other purchase tacitly. The matter was perfectly understood, and the shoe stood in stead of lawsuits. To this day Eastern people take off their shoes as a mark of reverence and as a token that they dare not take occupancy where they stand. The thrower of the old shoe ought to stand barefoot to keep the luck em blem intact, and the shoe should cer tainly be one of his own. The bride begins a new life. She should enter her husband’s house in new shoes, therefore. Invariably she does so, not always knowing any rea sons underlying this, save that she has everything new for her wedding. But she would be unlucky on this day if she were married in old shoes. TO BIMFLIFY CURRENCY NOTES. The plan to systematize designs for United States notes and coin certifi cates has been approved by Assistant Secretary of Treasury Coolidge. The scheme is one of uniformity in por trait and general design for notes of the same aenomitation of each class. Under the plan adopted, all classes of notes of each denomination will carry the same portrait and no por trait will appear on the notes of more than one denomination, nor will any portrait be used which will not be im mediately recognized by every person who handles money. The one dollar silver certificate will carry the portrait of Washington; two dollar silver certificates the por trait of Jefferson. The five dollar note whether silver certificate or green back will carry the portrait of Lin coln ; the ten dollar gold and silver certificates and United States notes that of Cleveland ; the twenty dollar that of Jackson ; the fifty dollar that of Grant; the one hundred dollar that of Franklin; the five hundred dollar that of Salmon P. Chase ; the one thousand dollar that of Alexander Hamilton. I visited a school one day where Bible instruction was part of the dai ly course, and in order to test the children’s knowledge asked some questions. One class of little girls looked particularly bright, and I ask ed the tallest one: “What sin did Adam commit?” “He ate forbidden fruit.” “Right. What tempted Adam?” “Eve.” “Not really Eve, but the serpent. And how was Adam punished.” The girl hesitated and looked con fused. Behind her sat a little 8 year old, who raised her hand and said: “Please, pastor, I know.” “Well, tell us; how was Adam punished?” “He had to marry Eve.” “What in the world are you cry ing about, Johnny ?” asked the teach er kindly. “You said that if the earth was flattened out the sea would be two miles deep all over it.” “That’s nothing for you to feel bad over.” “But—but, teacher, I can’t swim.” JoHNNY--“They’remakin’ shingles out o’ cement now’days.” Dicky— “l don’t mind that so much, but if maw ever gets a pair o’ cement slip pers I’m goin’ to run away !” THE PUREBT PEARL. Beside the church door, a-weary and alone, A blind woman sat on the cold door stone. The wind was bitter, the snow fell fast, And a mocking: voice in the fltful blast Seemed ever to echo her mourning: cry. And she begged an alms of the passerby. “Have pity on me, have pity. I pray. My back is bent and my hair is gray.” The bells were ringing the hour of prayer. And many good people were gathered there; But covered with furs and mantles warm. They hurried past through the wintry storm. Some were hoping their souls to save. And some were thinking of death and the grave; And, alas! they had no time to heed The poor soul asking for charity’s need; And some were blooming with beauties and And closely muffled In veils of lace, They saw not the sorrow nor heard the moan Of her who sat on the cold stone. At last came one of noble name, By the city counted the wealthiest dame. And the pearls that round her neck were strung, She proudly there to the beggar flung. Then followed a maiden, young and fair. Adorned with dusters of golden hair: But her dress was thin and scanty and worn. Not even the beggar’s seemed more forlorn ; With tearful look and pitying sigh, She whispered soft, “No Jewels nave I, But I give you my prayers.good friend.” said she, “And sure, I know God listens to me.” On the maid's pure hand so white and small. The blind woman let a teardrop fall. And kissed it; then said to the weeping girl, “It is you have given the purest pearl." -Rev. L. P. O'StUly. PARENTAL TITLES. The titles to which children apply to their parents are various and won derful. We have heard ‘Marm’ and ‘Parp,’ ‘Paw’ and ‘Maw,’ ‘Dad’ and ‘Mam,’ ‘Pater’ and ‘Mater,’ but ac cording to a pleasant spoken writer in the New York Sun, the good old titles, Father and Mother, are the most dignified and expressive. He says: “I was brought up to say father and mother As far as I can recollect I never said papa or mamma, and what fine, natural, wholesome, home ly words, teeming with love and af fection, father and mother are. “Then in the course of time I grew up and got married and we had chil dren and they started in calling us not father and mother, but papa and mamma, pronounced in the most nat ural and easy way with the accent on the first syllable, mommer and popper. “I don’t know just hew our chil dren whose parents in their childhood had always said father and mother, came thus to say papa and mamma ; they may have been taught so by their nurse, or they may have ab sorbed it from people of the neighbor hood. ‘ 'Then as the children grew older and came to exercise their own intel ligence they came to pronounce these words correctly, papa and mamma, with the accent on the last syllable; and they were very careful and pre cise about this under all ordinary cir cumstances, but when they got excit ed and didn’t stop to think they went back to popper and mommer, which I am free to say I liked much better. Papa and mamma, with the accent on the last syllable, always seem poor and artificial words to me. “And then another interesting thing happened. As our children grew older they discovered and adopt ed as parental titles the words father and mother. I am not so sure but that at first tnev did this because they considered it to be the really correct fashion, better form ; but father and mother came finally to appeal to them perfectly, and ever since they have used them unaffectedly and naturally, with pa and ma occasionally as affec tionate diminutives. “But now here is a curious thing. Our children are pretty well grown up now, young men and young wo med our boys and girls are now, and when one of the girls becomes fright ened in her sleep by some terrible dream, so that she calls aloud for help —then whom do you suppose she calls for ? Why, instinctively she calls for her mother, as all children do, but in what manner do you suppose the affrighted dreaming girl calls to her mother ? Does she shout ‘Moth er I’ or ‘Mamma’ ! with the accent on the last syllable? In truth she says neither, but what she now says is: “ ‘Mommer 1 Mommer! Mommer!’ “You see, the early habit persists, and I suppose we shall have to wait for another generation, until our grandchildren come, for children in whose minds the lovely word, by con stant use from infancy up, will once more have become so firmly fixed that they will say ‘Mother!’ instinctively and always even in their dreams.” — 7 he Housewife. PROFANITY IN BOYS. It is a regrettable fact that prafani ty has become common among the boys. It is not in the least out of the ordinary, where a group of boys of io to 15 years are together upon the street or in an open space to play a game of ball, to hear them using oaths that might suit the tongues of the proverbial fishwife or costermonger, but which are shocking falling from the tongues of children of tender years. Of all stupid and silly vices, pro fanity is one of the worst and most abominable. A simple statement of fact is much stronger than any state ment embellished with swear words, and no lie is made any the more be lieveable by being framed in profanity. In fact, both truth and falsehood are weakened by swearing and taking the Lord’s name in vain. Foul epithets and comparisons are not convincing, but are almost invariably disgusting, except to those making use of them. Profanity amodg men seems to be growing less and less, at least in pub lic places and among those who may lay claim to decency and some edu cation. But the habit seems to have firmly fixed itself upon a great many of the boys, who may imagine it man nish to use profanity and smoke cig arettes. Mr. Brown— “ Shall we have to buy new woolen underwear for all of the boys this year?” Mrs. Brown — “No, dear. Yours have shrunk so they just fit John ; John’s shrunk so they just fit Jimmy ; Jimmy’s shrunk to fit Willie; and Willie’s are just snug on the baby. You are the only one that needs new ones. ’ ’ “That young couple seem to be enjoying themselves immensely. Are they married?” “Yes, but not to each other.” ESTABLISHED 1860. A SHOCK. We were leaning over the front gate. I held both her hands in mine and looked into her moonlit eyes. I was twenty, she not quite eighteen. I was going West to seek my fortune. When I had made a competence—l couldn’t bear to consider more than three months sufficient for the pur pose—l was to return and take her back with me. "Life in the meanwhile,” she said, "will be one long period of waiting.” "It will seem an age to me.” "You will be engrossed in business. That will make you forget.' 1 "I shall never forget. I shall lay down thirty days for each month on paper and each morning check one off. To see them disappear will be my only comfort.” There was silence for awhile. A distant clock struck u. "In seven hours my train will be pulling out the station. I have yet to pack.” "Must you go?” "Yes. Farewell.” But another hour passed and I was not gone. The same clock struck 12. I drew her to me. There was a long, long kiss. Then I turned and with out looking back hurried away. A month of daily letter writing, a month of alternate day writing, a month of weekly writing—the three months that I had laid out wherein to attain the wherewithal to bring her to me —had passed, and I bad only just found a position giving me 615 a week. The correspondence died a peaceful death. There were no re proaches on either side. In youth as sociations are forming and reforming rapidly. One autumn it is Charlie and Will and Tom and Lucy and Mary and Fannie ; the next spring it is Charlie and Arthur and Pete and Ethel and Maud and Kate. Youth is but a kaleidescope—the same colors under different groupings. Two years after leaving home I could not tell who wrote the last letter, she or I. Three years and I couldn’t have told whether her eyes were black brown or hazel. Five years, and one day in ransacking among a lot of rub bish I came upon her picture—the picture I had dreamed over for hours at a time. She married and went to another city to live. I didn’t hear her mar ried name, or if I did I forgot it. It was twelve years from our parting over the gate before I saw her again. It was at a summer resort. I had be come infatuated with a girl of twenty, fresh as a new blown rose, and when the hot season came I followed her to the country. She was chaperoned by her aunt, Mrs. Schenck, apparent ly about forty, with grizzly gray hair, a pinched expression and a sharp voice. She had five children, all of them with her, and no nurse. Sure ly was not that enough to spoil any woman’s attractiveness ? I became engaged. It was evening, and I was obliged to leave the next morning. I told my story and was accepted at the last moment before my departure and as everybody at the hotel was going to bed. When I set off for the train she went with me down to the gate, and we stood lean ing over it, I without, she within. I held both her hands in mine and look ed into her moonlit eyes. I assured her that I should look forward to her return to the city with eagerness, and she promised to cut short her stay in the country. We heard a lo comotive whistle, a distant rattle, drawing nearer, and a train stopped at the station below; then presently the moon shone on something white, and a woman came up the path. "Oh, Aunt Juanita,” exclaimed my fiancee, "where have you been?” I started. I had cause to remem ber that name—that uncommon name- Juanita. "To the postoffice to get Frank’s letter. He always posts it to come on this train.” "I’m so glad you’re here that you may congratulate us on our engage ment. It only occurred a few min utes ago. lam so happy.” "I rejoice with you, my dear. I know just how happy you feel, be cause your lover made me feel just as happy a dozen years ago.” "You are” —I exclaimed. "Certainly lam.” ‘ ‘Oh, aunty, what does this mean ?” ‘ ‘A case of puppy love between two puppies.” "And did he —surely he did not play you false.” "No more than I did him.” “Singular,” I interposed, "that I didn’t recognize you.” "Not at all. A woman, especially a married woman with five children grows old very quickly, while a man usually stands still till he is past for ty.” Then, kissing her niece, she said to her : "I wish you every hap piness, dear. I can conscientiously recommend your lover and assure you that you will be happy with him. And I ought to know, for I have tested him myself as a fiancee.” I departed in a singular state of 1 mind. My happiness had received a shock. I regretted nothing. I did not blame myself nor my first love. Thus far I had lived under the im : pression that elderly people had come from some far distant land with which the rest of us have nothing to do. Here was one of my own generation who had passed in a twinkling, it seemed, from the bud to that bloom wherein the petals fall.— Horace B. Gaylord. Mistrusted Him " Martha,” ► said a Westport woman to her negro F cook, "when are you and Abe going • to be married?” "Doan’ know es Ah’ ll mahry dat man,” replied the > cook. "What’s the matter now?” : she was asked. "Well, ma’am,” t the cook said, shaking her head, r "Ah hear Abe bin runnin’ ’round wif ernuthah woman. Ah’s full ob suspiciosity ’bout dat man.” : No man works so hard that he hasn’t a little energy left to pat him self on the back.