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Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, March 30, 1894, Image 1

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;[ -&ATRIP#- J
j| TO
jj I Cotapor\l |
! I Will entitle you to a discount of 5
' 15 per cent on all J
ifOvercoats, Heavy Suits and Underwear,j
o For sixty days from this date, i
!j Jan. 22. |
jPATTERSON'S 141 , 5 ;"™ 81 ]]
Are You Interested
In Low Prices?
We offer a magnificient new stock for Spring and Summer at
*;Hfgt Grades in.all Departments. True merit in every Article. Hon
est Quality Everywhere.
An Immense Assortment.
Nothing Missing.
© ©
Everything the Best.
The Quality will tell it. The Price will sell it. And that is thi
reason you should come early to get your bargains from our splendid
line of
Shoes, Slippers and Oxfords.
We show all the latest novelties in great profusion. We keep
the very finest selections in all standard styles. We make it a porn;
to have every article in stock the best of its kind.
«AL RDFF., £ st .
Grand Spring Opening,
it i'- ■ •
"Of Dress Goods, Millinery, Wraps, Silk Waists, Underwear, Hosiery
Laces, T" mm ' n S s » Notions, and a complete line of Domestic... A
* % * We quote below prices of a few of the many wonderful
bargains to be found here. § § § $ §
, below good until change of advertisement.
>' > * **' '
90c Black Henrietta...*... 75c 10c Ladies' Black Hose 5<
86 "" 'Winch S«rge 60 15 Mii-ses* " '• 10
< Hrtfrielta 40 10 Emhrmderie* 5
.Gol. "" " 2 1 ' 8 Ginghams 5
12 10 •• 6
4 Jamestown 19 . 12 Dress Gingham" 8
' 35 15 " '• 10
Mf "IjiAim Si\lr«. i-: 29 8 Rloe Calico 5
TO ,Bh>cltßurrah-Silks..:.: 60 8 New Spring Calico 6j
1a Ipaia Sitka 50 10 Lonsdalu Muslin.... 8
1 " " ....'.l 75 8 Blenched •' ... ... 5
1. €)' *£*_ " : 100 5 Unbleached " 4
1 •&"" otfan<rable Silk*.;..- 65 7 " " 5
28 " gftiU'r Bats .* 10 8 U«d mid Black Calico 5
SFrec.oh Flowers:.' 5 35 Ked Damask 25
Milan HaU..... 25 3- r > Uubleacbed Damask 25
10 * Ladies' Vesta... 5 25 9-4 Sheeting 18
U*. •< , 10 20 8 4 " 16
4 •" i:
Call and see us and we will convince you that the place to get latj
est styles best qualities and lowest prices, is at the Leading Dry
Goods, .and Wrap House of Butler.
(Successor to Ritter &^Ralston.)
\lar\, and Child
In Butler county know that they have received their large and com
plete line of Fall and Winter Boots, Shoes and Slippers at price*
that will surprise them. We have the celebrated Jamestown
Boots and Shoes, made by hand and warranted, which have
proven their wearing quailites for years past. We want to give
the trade
-♦lie Best Goods for Least Possible, Living Profits
The best lint of Ladies' and Gents Fine Shoes ever shown in the
Children's School Shoes in every shape and style.
Rubber Goods or all kinds and shapes at all prices
Come-and see the boys.
t Vogeley & Bancroft I
347 S. Main Street. - . . . Butler, Pa
Mr. Wm. A. Booth
Indiana, Pa.
Saved My Life
85 Worth of Hood's Sarsa
pari lla
Severe Case of Nicotine Poisoning.
•*C. I. Hood & Co., Lowell. Mass.:
" Gentlemen: I write these lines to certify
that Hood's Sarsaparilla has cured me of a most
painful disease from which I have suffered the
past four years. It appeared in the form of
eruptions on my neck and face, spreading over
my body, so painful that I could not sleep at
night, and could not work In the day time, and
when I did lay down and get Into a little doze. If
I would move Just a little, it would start that
terrible sensation, and
Blood Would Start
from the eruptions on my legs and body. I had
to wear bandages all the time. My eyes were
badly swollen, my back in terrible condition.
One physician said It was weed poison, another
eczema, and the last told me it was
Nicotine Poisoning,
and that I would have to go to a physician who
made a speciality of my disease. (I omitted to
say that I am a cigar maker by trade.) But
Hood's Sarsaparilla had been recommended,
and I thought I would try it. and I am heartily
thankful that I did. I cau truly say that Hood's
Barsaparilla has effected
A Perfect Cure.
I am free from sores, have a good appetite, no
dull feelings, and that continual sick headache
Is gone. This wonderful cure has only cost me
live dollars. This small amount of money has
Hood's 8 # 5 " Cures
rid me of all my sufferings. I am still taking
Hood's Sarsaparilla, my faithful friend which
hu saved my life. I cannot praise it enough."
WM. A. BOOTH, Indiana, Pennsylvania.
Hood's Pills cure liver Ills, constipation,
biliousness, jaundice, sick headache, indigestion.
$6 00 Punts for $5 00.
$5 50 Pants for $4 50.
$5 00 Punts fo r $4.00.
$4 50 Pants for $3 50.
s4.t'o Pants for 83.00.
$3 00 Pants for $2.50.
$2.50 Pants for $1.75.
$2.00 Punts for $1.25.
Wor anted Jean Pants sold by
n >D" for less than SI.OO,
*** for 89c. :: %*
120 South Main Street, Butler, Pa.,
+ Invited,
' 0
%\ V \
Shoes for the inspection of all,
holding down prices for the con
veyance of everybody, holding
out bargains within the reach oi
all and consequently holding on
to the people's patronage to the
consternation of all competitors.
All people go where they can get
the best for their money. See
our Infant's Shoes in Red "and
Tan at 15 cents. See our Boys'
Extra High Cut Shoes at $1.25.
See our Ladies' Fine Rubbers at
25 cents. See our Ladies' Storm
Rubbers at 35 cents. See us for
all kinds of footwear. Will save
you money. The New Shoe
C. E. liiIILLER,
So Dry
Yet so forceful are "spirit."
focts. They "whet" up tie
system, stimulate you not
too much, hnt jost enough
to niak' you better FinchV
Golden Wedding Gihsor>V
and Old Doujrbertv Whin
keys Jure a few of tbe"epirit"
facts kept by.
Robt. I.ewin,
136 Water St.
Oppotiite B. <t 0 Depot, Pittsborjr, ! a
• •oo0»»«eec«c
lias no equal for eliaj>f>e<l hand*. lips or
© face, or any roughncs-. of the skin, nn«i m
1 not cx< i' MI a* a dr< -ing for tin- face
I p air r sha.l:. ;. Sold by druggist* tt
■Sfc'nty-Jive ftuts a Bottle.
• ••••• 7» • • • • t
All night their course lay through in
tricate defiles and over irregular and
rock-strewn paths. More than once
they lost their way, but Hope's inti-
mate knowledge of the mountains en
abled them to regain the track once
more. When morning broke, a scene
of marvelous though savage beauty
lay before them. In every direction
the great snow-capped peaks hemmed
them in, peeping over each other's
shoulders to the far horizon. So steep
were the rocky banks on either side of
them that the larch and the pino
seemed to be suspended over their
heads, and to need only a gust of wind
to come hurtling down upon them.
Nor was the fear entirely an illusion,
for the barren valley was thickly
strewn with trees and bowlders which
had fallen in a similar manner. Even
as they passed, a great rock came thun
dering down with a hoarse rattle which
woke the echoes in the silent gorges,
and startled the weary horses into a
As the sun rose slowly above the
eastern horizon, the caps of the great
mountains lit up one after the other,
like lamps at a festival, until they
were all ruddy and glowing. The mag
nificent spectacle cheered the hearts
of the three fugitives and gave them
fresh energy. At a wild torrent which
swept out of a ravine they called a
halt and watered their horses, while
they partook of a hasty breakfast.
Lucy and her father would fain havo
rested longer, but Jefferson Hope was
inexorable. "They will be upon our
track by this time," he said. "Every
thing depends upon our speed. One©
safe in Carson, we may rest for the re
mainder of our lives."
During the whole of that day they
struggled on through the defiles, and
by evening they calculated that they
were more than thirty miles from their
enemies. At night time they chose
the base of a beetling c;vg, where the
rocks offered some protection from the
chill wind, and there, huddled to
gether for warmth, they enjoyed a few
hours' sleep. Before daybreak, how
ever, they were up and on their way
once more. They had seen no signs of
any pursuers, and Jefferson nope be
gan to think that they were fairly out
of the reach of the terrible organiza
tion whose enmity they had incurred.
He little knew how far that iron grasp
could reach, or how soon it was to
close upon them and crush them.
About the middle of the second day
of the flight their scanty store of pro
visions began to run out. This gave
the hunter little uneasiness, however,
for there was game to be had among
the mountains, and he had frequently
before had to depend upon his rifle for
the needs of life. Choosing a shel
tered nook, he piled together a few
dry branches and made a blazing flre.
at which his companions might warm
themselves, for they were now nearly
five thousand feet above the sea level,
and the air was bitter and keen. Hav
ing tethered the horses and bade Lucy
adieu, he threw his gun over his
shoulder and set out in search of
whatever chance might throw in his
way. Looking back, he saw the old
man and the young girl crouching over
the blazing fire, while the three ani
mals stood motionless in the back
ground. Then the intervening rocks
hid them from his view.
He walked for a couple of miles
through one ravine after another with-
out Buccess, though from the marks
upon the trees, and other indications,
he judged that there were numerous
bears in the vicinity. At last, after
two or three hours' fruitless search, he
was thinking of turning back in de
spair, when, casting his eyes up
ward, he saw a sight which sent a
thrill of pleasure through his heart.
On the edge of a jutting pinnacle,
three or four hundred feet above him,
there stood a creature somewhat re
sembling a sheep In appearance, but
armed with a pair of gigantic horns.
The big-horn, for so it is called—was
acting, probably, as a guardian over a
flock which were invisible to the hun
ter; but fortunately it was heading in
the opposite direction, and had not per
ceived him. Lying on his back, he
rested his rifle upon a rock, and took a
long and steady aim before drawing
the trigger. The animal sprang into
the air, tottered for a moment upon
the edge of the precipice, and then
came crashing down into the valley
The creature was too unwieldy to
lift, so the hunter contented himself
with cutting away one haunch and a
part of the flank. With this trophy
over his shoulder, he hastened to re
trace his steps, for the evening was al
ready drawing in. He had hardly
Btarted, however, before he realized
j the difficulty which faced him. In his
[ eagerness he had wandered far past
the ravines which were known to him,
and it was no easy matter to pick out
the path which he had taken. The val
ley in which he found himself divided
and subdivided into many gorges,
which were so like each other that it
was impossible to distinguish one from
the other. He followed one for a mile
jor more until he came to a mountain
torrent Nvtrtch Ire waa sure he
ncter seeii uefore. Convince*! tnal tie
had taken the wrong turn, he tried
avnfhor. but with the same result.
Night was coming on rapidly, and it
was almost dark before he again found
himself in a defile which was familiar
to him. Even then it was no easy mat
ter to keep on the right track, for the
moon had not yet risen, and the high
cliffs on either side made the obscurity
more profound. Weighed down with
his burden and weary from his exer
tions, he stumbled along, keeping up
his heart by the reflection that every
step brought him nearer to Lucv, and
that he carried with him enough to in
sure them food for the remainder of
their journey.
He had now come to the mouth of
the very defile in which he had left
them. Even in the darkness he could
recognize the outlines of the cliffs
which bounded it. They must, he re
' fleeted, be awaiting him anxiously, foi
■ he had been absent nearly five hours
In the gladness of his heart he put hit
hands to his mouth and made the g:ei
reecho to a loud hallo as a signal thai
he was coming. Fie paused and listenec
for an answer. Nunc came save hit
own cry, which clattered up the dreary
silent ravines, and was borne back t<
his ears in countless repetitions. Agaii
he shouted, even louder than before
and again no whisper came back from
the friends whom he had left such a
short time ago. A vague, namelesi
dread came over him, and he hurried
onward frantically, dropping the pre
cious food in his agitation.
When he turned the corner, he cam«
full in sight of the spot where the ilr«
had been lit. There was still a glow
ing pile of wood-ashes there, but it had
evidently not been tended since his de
parture. The same dead silence stik
reigned all round. With his fear»
changed to convictions, he hurried on.
There was no living creature near th»
remains of the fire; animals, man.
maiden, all were gone. It was only
too clear that some sudden and terribl*
disaster had occurred during his ab
sence —a disaster which had embraced
them all and yet had left no traces be
hind it.
Bewildered and stunned by thii
blow, Jefferson Hope felt his head spin
round, and had to lean upon his rifle to
save himself from falling. He was es
sentially a man of action, however, and
speedily recovered from his temporary
impotence. Seizing a half-consumed
piece of wood from the smouldering
flre, he blew it into a flame, and pro
ceeded with its help to examine the
little camp. The ground was all
stamped down by the feet of horses
showing that a large party of mounted
m~n had overtaken the fugitives, and
t"..- direction of their tracks proved
that they had afterward turned baclj
♦o Salt Lake City. Had they carried
back both of his companions with
them? Jefferson Hope had almost per
suaded himself that they must hav«
done so. when his eye fell upon an ob
ject which made every nerve of hii
body utgle within him. A little way
on one side of the camp was a low
lying head of reddish soil, which had
assuredly not been there before. There
was no mistaking it for anything but a
newly-dug grave. As the young huntei
approached it. he perceived that a stick
had been planted on it. with a sheet oi
paper stuck in the cleft fork of it. Thf
inscription upon the paper was brief,
but to the point:
Died August*, 1800.
The sturdy old man, whom he had
left so shorfca time before, was gone,
then, and this was all his epitaph.
Jefferson Hope looked wildly round to
see if there was a second grave, but
there was no sign of one. Lucy had
been carried back by their terri
ble pursuers to fulfill her original
destiny, by becoming one of the harem
of the elder's son. As the young fel
low realized the certainty of her fate
and his own powerlessness to prevent
it, he wished that he, too, was lying
with the old farmer in his last silent
resting place.
Again, however, his active spirit
shook off the lethargy which springs
from despair. If there was nothing
else left to him, he could at least de
vote his life to revenge. With indom
itable patience and perseverance, Jef
ferson Hope possessed also a power ol
sustained vindictiveness, which he may
have learned from the Indians among
whom he had lived. As he stood by
the desolate fire he felt that the only
thing which could assuage his grid
would be thorough and complete retri
bution brought by his own hand upon
his enemies. His strong will and un
tiring energy should, he determined,
be devoted to that one end. With a
grim, white face he retraced his steps
to where he had dropped the food, and
having stirred up thf l smouldering fi»o,
he cooked enough to last him for a few
days. This he made up into a bundle,
and, tired as he was, he set himself to
walk back through the mountains upon
the track of the avenging angels.
For five days he toiled, footsore and
weary, through the defiles which he
had already traversed on horseback.
At night he flung himself down among
the rocks and snatched a few hours'ol
sleep, but before daybreak he was al
ways well on his way. On the sixth
day he reached the Eagle canyon, fremi
which they had commenced their ill
fated flight. Thence he could look
down upon the home of the Saints.
Worn and exhausted, ho leaned upon
his rifle and shook his gaunt hand
fiercely at the silent, widespread city
beneath him. As he locked at it he
observed that there were flags in some
of the principal streets and other
signs of festivity. He was still specu
lating as to what this might mean
when he heard the clatter of horse's
hoofs and saw a mounted man riding
toward him. As he approached he
recognized him as a Mormon named
Cowper, to whom he had rendered
services at different times. He there
fore accosted him when he got up to
him, with the object of finding out
what Lucy Ferrier's fate had been.
"I am Jefferson Hope," he said.
"You remember me."
The Mormon looked at him with un
disguised astonishment—indeed, it was
difficult to recognize in this tattered.un
kempt wanderer, with ghastly face and
fierce, wild eyes, the spruce young
hunter of former days. Having, how
ever, at last satisfied himself as to his
Identity, the man's surprise changed to
"You are mad to come here," he
cried. "It is as much as my own life
is worth to be seen talking with you.
There is a warrant against you from
the Holy Four for assisting the Fer
"I don't fear them or their warrant,"
Hope said, earnestly. "You must know
something of this matter. Cowper. I
conjure you by till y° u hold dear to an
swer » few "UuestJons. We liave al-
wars been friends. Tor God's sake
don't refuw to answer me "
"What is it?" the Mormon asked un
easily. "Be quick. The very rocks
have ears and the trees eyes."
"What has become of Lucy Ferrier?' :
"She whs married yesterday to young
Drebber. 11 old up. man. hold up. you
have no life left in you."
"Don't mind me," said Hope, faintly.
Fie was white to the very lips, and hat!
sunk down on the stone a .-iiiust which
he had been lean in' •Married, you
"Married yesterday—that's what
those flag's are for on the Endowment
house. There was some wor Is be
tween young Drebber and young
Stangerson as to which was to have
her. They'd both been in the party
that followed them, and Stangerson
had shot her father, which seemed to
give him the best claim; but when
they argued it out in council Drebber's
party was the stronger, so the
prophet gave her over to him. No one
won't have her very long though, for
I saw death in her face yesterday. She
is more like a ghost than a woman.
Are you off. then?"
"Yes, I'm off," said Jefferson llope,
who had risen from his seat. His face
might have been chiseled out of mar-
ble, so hard and so set was its expres
sion, while his eyes glowed with a
baleful light.
"Where are you going?"
"Never mind," he answered; and,
slinging his weapon over his shoulder,
he strode off down the gorge and so
away into the heart of the mountains to
the haunts of the wild beasts. Among
them all there was none so fierce and
so dangerous as himself.
The prediction of the Mormon was
only too well fulfilled. Whether it was
the terrible death of her father or the
effects of the hateful marriage into
which she bad been forced, poor Lucy
never held up her head again, but
pined away and died within a month.
Her sottish husband, who had married
her principally for the sake of John
Ferrier's property, did not affect any
great grief at his bereavement; but
his other wives mourned over her, and
sat up with her the night before the
burial, as is the Mormon custom. They
were grouped round the bier in the
early hours of the morning, when, to
their inexpressible fear and aston
ishment, the door was flung open,
and a savage-looking. weather
beaten man in tattered gar
ments strode into the room. With
out a glance or a word to the cowering
women he walked up to the white, si
lent figure which had once contained
the pure soul of Lucy Ferrier. Stooping
over her he pressed his lips reverently
to her cold forehead, and then snatch
ing up her hand he took the wedding
ring frSHi "her finger. ;r Khe fifiaii BOt"
be buried in that," he cried, with a
fierce snarl, and before an alarm could
be raised sprang down the stairs and
was gone. So strange and so brief was
the episode that the watchers might
have found it hard to believe it them
selves or persuade other people of it,
had it not been for the undeniable fact
that the circlet of gold which marked
her as having been a bride had disap
For some months Jefferson Hope
lingered among the mountains, lead
ing a strange, wild life, and nursing
in his heart the fierce desire for ven
geance that possessed him. Tales
were told in the city of the weird
figure which was seen prowling about
the suburbs, and which haunted the
lonely mountain gorges. Once a bul
let whistled through Staugerson's
window and flattened itself upon the
wall within a foot of him. On another
occasion, as Drebber passed under a
cliff, a great bowlder crashed down on
him, and lie only escaped a terrible
death by throwing himself upon his
face. The two young Mormons were
not long in discovering the reason of
these attempts upon their lives, and
led repeated expeditions into the
mountains in the hope of capturing or
killing their enemy, but always with
out success. Then they adopted the
precaution of never going out alone or
after nightfall, and of having their
houses guarded. After a time they
were able to relax these measures, for
nothing was either heard or seen of
their opponent, and they hoped that
time had cooled his vindictiveness.
Far from doing so, it had, if any
thing. augmented it. The hunter's mind
was of a hard, unyielding nature, and
the predominant idea of revenge had
•a'teii sue'i complete possession of it
»hat there was no room for any other
emotion. He was, however, above all
things practical. He soon realized that
even his iron constitution could not
stand the incessant strain which he was
putting upon it. Exposure and want of
wholesome food were wearing him out.
If he died like a dog among the moun
tains, what was to become of his re
venge then? And yet such a death
was sure to overtake him if he per
sisted. He felt that that was to play
his enemy's game, so he reluctantly
returned to the old Nevada mines,
there to recruit his health and to amass
money enough to,allow him to pursue
his object without privation.
His intention had l»een to be absent
a year at the most, but a combination
of unforeseen circumstances prevented
his leaving the mines for nearly five.
At the end of that time, however, his
memory of his wrongs and his craving*
for revenge were quite as keen as on
that memorable night when he had
stood by John Ferrier's grave. Dis
guised, and under an assumed name,
he returned to Salt Lake City, careless
what became of hi., own life, as long
as he obtained what he knew to be
justice. There he found evil tidings
awaiting him. There had been a
schism among the Chosen People a few
inontlis before, some of the younger
members of the church having rebelled
th'e authority df t"bi; elders,
anil the result had ueen tut secession
of a certain number of the malcon
tents. who had left t'tah ami become
Gentiles. Among these had been
Drebber and Stanwrson: and no one
knew whither they had pone. Rumor
reported that l>re,bber had managed to
convert a large part of his property
into money, and that he had departed
a wealthy man. while his companion,
Stangerson, was comparatively poor.
There wa-i no clew at all. however, as
to their whereabouts
Many a man. however vindictive,
would have abandoned all thought ol
revenge in the face of such a difficulty,
but Jefferson Hope never faltered for a
moment. With the small competence
he possessed, eked out by such employ -
ment as he could pick up, he traveled
from town to town through the United
States in quest of his enemies. Yeat
passed into year, his black hair turned
grizzled, but still he wandered on. a
human bloodhound, with his mind
wholly set upon the one object upon
which he had devoted his life. At last
his perseverance was rewarded. It was
but one glance of a face in a window,
but that one glance told him that Cleve
land, in Ohio, possessed the men whom
he was in pursuit of. He returned to
his miserable lodgings with his plan ol
vengeance all arranged. It chanced,
however, that Drebber, looking from
his window, had recognized the va
grant in the street, and had read mur
der in his eyes. He hurried before a
justice of the peace, accompanied by
Stangerson. who had become his pri
vate secretary, and represented to him
that they were in danger of their lives
from the jealousy and hatred of an old 1
rival. That evening Jefferson Hope
was taken into custody, and not being
able to find sureties was detained for
some weeks. When at last he was lib
erated. it was only to find that Dreb
bcr's house was deserted and that he
and his secretary had departed for Eu
Again the avenger had been foiled,
and again his concentrated hatred
urged him to continue the pursuit.
Funds were wanting, however, and
for some time he had. to return to
work, saving every dollar for his ap
proaching journey. At last, having
collected enough to keep life in him,
he departed for Europe and tracked
his enemies from city to city, working
his way in any menial capacity, but
never overtaking the fugitives. When
he reached St. Petersburg they had de
parted for Paris; and when he fol
lowed them there he learned that they
had just set off for Copenhagen. A 1
the Danish capital he was again a few
days late, for they had journeyed on to
London, where he at last succeeded iD
running them to earth. As to whal
occurred there, we cannot do bettei
than quote the old hunter's own ac
count, as duly recorded in Dr. Watson's
journal, to which we are already under
such obligations.
Tommy Byers—Jimmy! What you
goin' to do with all them rags?
Jimmy Collar—Going to sell 'em to
the ragman—get two cents a pound
for them.
Tommy Byers—Where d'you git'em?
Jimmy Collar —Me mother was down
town shoppin' yesterday, and these are
the samples she got.—Puck.
A Roariilnjr-llouue Saint.
Landlady—Poor Mr. Lightweight
died last week, and if anyone ever
deserved to go to Ileaven'he did.
Mr. Heavygaul (who is slightly in
arrears) —Why?
Landlady (weeping)—He always paid
his board in advance, nevercomplained
If his bed wasn't made up, and oh, such
a delicate appetite as that poor saint
had!— Judge.
Early Advantages.
First Student (classical school) —I
say, George, what a wonderful race
those old Greeks were. Think of their
triumphs in art, architecture, philoso
phy, literature —
Second—Huh! Nothing remarkable
about that. They didn't have to spend
the best years of their lives learning
Greek.—Brooklyn Life.
Her Idea of Uehenna.
Dolly—The wretch! and so he has
been proposing to both of us?
Polly—lt seems so.
Dolly—l wish we could think of
some fearful way to punish him.
Polly—l have an idea.
Dolly—What is It?
Polly—You marry him, love.—Truth.
Far Away Now.
Seedeigh—l must raise some money
somewhere. I- owe my landlady for
six weeks' board.
Stuart—Can't yon stand her off any
Seedeigh—Great Scott! no; she's dis
tant enough already. Raymond's
The Spirit of the Aqrr.
The Minister—Mr. Robinson wishes
to present a window to the church.
But I don't like the Inscription he
wishes placed on it.
The Minister's Wife—What is it?
The Minister —"Presented by Robin
son, Jones & Co.; Dry Goods." —Puck.
Merely an Investment.
Hones —What have you raised that
young bookkeeper's salary for? Don't
you know that the young spendthrift
squanders all his salary giving pres
ents to some girl he's infatuated with?
Bones—Of course I do. The girl's
my daughter.—Chicago Record.
Serve* Him Right.
"Have you got any stale bread?"
asked Johnny Fizzletop, sticking his
head into a baker's shop up in Harlem.
"Yes, I have five or six loaves."
"Serves you right. Why didn't yoa
sell 'em while they were fresh?"— Texas
Si f tings.
Girlish Perversity.
Nell —now do you know she is in
love with Jack?
Belle—Because she told me he was
perfectly horrid, and if she were in
my place she wouldn't liavo anything
to do with him.—Philadelphia Record.
All the Same to lllm.
"Lend me ten dollars?"
"I told you yesterday that I was
"Yes, I know: but I'd just as soon
borrow it from a liar as anybody else."
Not it QaMtlan of "f-rt."
Singleman—Do you let your wife
have the last word?
Benedict —Do I let her? H'm! It's
easy to tell that you know nothing of
married life. —X. Y. Press.
Very True.
"Now," said the storekeeper as he
gazed proudly at the lettering on his
uew bign, "that's what I call
l>ngUhh."— Star.
Tft the Country Is Too Poor to lu>fl«
tat* Rood Reform*.
"liarJ times and tho people can't
afford It" This U the sober, serious
verdict given by nine-tenths of our leg
islators when a proposition is made to
spend a few dollars of publie money
for the improvemeut of its ways. A
legislator is not always a statesman.
Neither he nor his complaining con
stituency is likely to realir* how largo
an aggregate is maJe up by a little
"chipping in" all around. I ncle Sam
has been making a few ti.nres that
may enlighten us i n this subject, and
the report of ComraisMoner Miller of
the internal reveane departmnat shows
that we spend a heap more money out
side the scope of necess ry purchases
than we are likely to realize. For ex
ample, as a nation we drank 6,000,000,-
000 glasses of whisky last year, for
which we paid the barkeeper about
tA09,000,000, or 190,000,000 more than
all the appropriations of congress for
government expenses. Besides this, we
drank last year nearly 32,000,000 bar
rels of beer, or, to be a little more ex
act, 12,785,161),200 glasses, which repre
sents an expenditure for this species of
[An everyday experience anywhere tn the
United States.]
Teutonic hilarity of over 1017,000,000,
which means an average of 110 for each
man, woman and child In the whole
population. Then we spent last year
nearly 1254,000,000 for cigars and
cheroots, and over I22,000,0;>0 for cigar
ettes. Of ehewing and smoking tobac
co we consumed about 280,000,000
pounds, for which we paid $130,005,030.
Commenting on these figures, the At
lanta Constitution says:
"Altogether, not taking stock of the
money we expend for champagne,
whose sparkling bubbles burst about
the brimmlne goblet, and the other im
ported and native wines which drive
away carking care, the people of the
United States spend annually for drink
and tobacco the almost Incomprehensi
ble sum of • 1,041, 008,40 a
"The mind ta incapable of KTMplng
the largeness of the total, but when it
is remembered that this is more than
the circulating medium of the United
States, that is, 127 per head more than
the per capita circulation; that it proves
that the head of every family, suppos
ing he handles the purse strings, pays
out (IBS annually for drink and tobac
co, and that every dollar in the United
States goes each year over the bar or
the counter of some tobacconist, some
idea of its magnitude can be obtained."
It is, of couree, possible that there
exists some subtle and undiscovered
reason why the people should not take
on some slight spirit of thrift and go
about the improvement of the vilest
roads and street* that ever cursed an
intelligent republic, bat whatever that
resson" may "be, 1t certainly has uu ~
foundation in the oft-repeated com
plaint "hard time* and the people can't
afford it."
Wide Tires Improve Fublle Roads ana
Save the llorse*.
A correspondent for the Breeders"
Gazette gives his observation and ex
perience in regard to wide tires as
1 wish to give my observation and
experience. I have a lot of teams to
look after, and we have on the farm
but two narrow-tired wagons. In the
spring of 1891, when hauling manure,
the wagon with three-inch tires and
the one with one and one-hall inch
both went to the field together, the
loads being equal. When in the field
the broad-tired drove in and unloadedi
the narrow stuck. Four horses were
put to it to get it to a place to unload.
The condition of the field was the same;
broad tires on top of the ground, nar
row tires in ground about eight inchea.
In addition to Winwood farm, Mr.
Sunman also owns the largest sawmill
plant in southeastern Indiana, and now
his foreman there uses wide tires on
all wagons, none being less than four
and one-half inches. The common dirt
roads (clay) have no stone on thom in
this country, and roads that are used by
common farmers are cut to pieces—all
rut and mud—while the roads used by
the log wagons are solid and fit to
drive over at all times.
In thotpringof 1692, we had a couple
of mule teams to help plow a wet piece
of ground. I was in the field when they
struck it; the mules—which weighed
near to nine hundred and fifty pounds
each —mired to their knees and were
unhitched to get them out. Then I
ordered one of our heavy draft teams
to try to plow where mules could not,
and they completed the job in a good
manner. They weighed 1,790 und 1,840
each. From nay observation and actual
experience, having under my charge
more horses and wagons than three or
four farmers in this section of Indiana,
I am led to believe that the wide tire is
the road maker and the narrow tiro the
road breaker and horse killer. Where
I cannot go with a wagon with tires
four and one-half inches wido and a
team of Clydes weighing from 1,500 to
1,800 pounds each, no man with narrow
tires dare go with the same load, no
difference what his team may be.
(Jive us wide tires and compel farm
ers to use them and we will have better
roads than we ever had and save our
horses also.
Auntie —A penny for your thoughts.
Little Nephew—l was thinkin? that
if I kep' real quiet, and pretended to
bo thinking, you'd wonder what I was
thinking about, and say just what you
did. Gimme the penny.—Good News.
All I?p with Him.
"You had a high old time in Eu
"Yes," replied the returned tourisL
"I had. I was done up at Monte Carlo,
held up in the Appenines and laid up
in Home." —Washington Star.
It Had Loit It* Attraction.
May—So Jennie has given up bicy
cling. lias she?
Elaine—Yes. She says she's got past
the place where as a beginner she
could do graceful falls.—Chicago licc
The Pinal Teat.
A man may bo hungry, a man may be taint,
! Anil no cold that ho'a ready to freeze:
But he Isn't completely abut out from the
I Till hla pantaloons bag at the kneea
Waahlngton Star.
Played Too Well.
Actor—Ho can play "drunken parts"
better than anyone in the profession.
Manager—Yes, but the trouble is he
is too fond of rehearsing.—N. Y.
A small rick.
Duko of Squallbro—l would never
marry a woman cleverer than myself
k Miss Wbirlsfair—You'll have tfrea*
trouble yetypyßiiiVe4wYogV»-
M&giolan K>liar's Vary Unpleas
ant Adventure In India.
He Think# It Was iU# Clsnr Trick of a
Fakir. Bat Ctaaal Tell Uow It Was
Bono—At Any Rata tk« fallow Qot
Money for Killing ills Bsptlls.
"I had boon in India a number of
timet and had visited ail the principal
cities." says Ma:ric>:tn Kellar. "when
in 1883 1 fo'.m i my elf in the pretty
city of Lucknow. 1 had been in the
city long enough to have acquired the
ennui of the people and was falling
easily into their listless, luxurious
ways, when one moriung this adven
ture befell me and caused me to all at
once lose all that sense of serene and
peaceful quiet that I had before pos
sessed. In India in the summer season
it is too hot to sleep upon mattresses or
under much bed clothing. Inmyroom
in the neat little bungalow where t
was stopping 1 had a bamboo couch,
without a mattress, and my only COT*
ering was a linen sheet. I had rested
there in comfort for many nights, and
was just about to arise one morning
when a Hindoo fakir entered the door.
He was a tall, lank, solemn-visaged in
dividual, and salaamed profoundly at
he entered. I sat up on the edge ox
my cot to get a good look at him and
asked what he wanted. He looked at
me an instant aud then slowly drew
from his breech cloth a small reed pipe.,
" 'Heap big snake in sahib's bed,' he
ejaculated in the same calm, unruffled
" 'Snakes in my bed!' I yelled, as I
bounded to the floor with visions ot
writhing, hissing cobras in my mind.
'Snake! Where?
" 'ln sahib's bed—heap snake,' tHe
rogue replied, as he slowly released a
small earthenware pot or jar from his
girdle. Then he placed the reed pipe
to his lips and proceeded to extract
from it the most painful music I ever
listened to. Serpents galore would
have been welcome if that music could
have been banished, I thought, but aa
I watched the bed my sentimenta
underwent a rapid change.
"In the middle of the couch, under
neath the sheet. I saw something mov
ing. The sheet became elevated in a
conical form and there was a hissing
and spitting underneath it that made
Ay blood run cold. Then there emerged
from the edge •of the covering tho
flKniy, horrible head of a monster cobra
that wasn't an/ inch less than eight
feet long, and slowly Blid from the bed
and coiled himself upon the floor. I
stood looking at him with my eyea
bulging with terror.
"The doleful, seductive, plaintive
strain of the pipe continued and the
head of the monster slowly arose to a
level with the cot. His hood began bo
swell and he showed every sign of in
tense anger. The weird music grew
faster and faster and the oscillating
motion of the serpent's head kept time
to it. The little pipe shrieked and the
fakir was perspiring from every pore.
His eyes were bulgfng from his head
and his foot was keeping double time
to his piping. Shriller and more pene
trating grew the notes, until of a sud
den they became again plaintive and
sad; the time was slower, the tune
sweet and harmonious. The motions
of the monster's head were slower and
slower, and then the fakir's hand stole
quickly to his side. A sword leaped
out, there was a flash, a glint of steel,
and the cobra's head rolled upon the
floor, while the dismembered body
thrashed itself about the apartment.
I staggered to the door, alinest over
come by nervous strain, and the ordeal
"wik over. The muttered backsheesh
of the fakir was generously responded
to, yon may be sure, and he left my
bungalow, leaving only the severed
head and body of the cobra as remind
ers of the scene through which I had
' How was it done? I don't know. I
never knew whether that scoundrel
brought the snake in with him or not,
but while he was playing I saw him
crowding another cobra, as big as the
first, into that little earthen pot which
he carried at his girdle."
The Morse Hereafter.
The old Norse idea of the hereafter
planned for evil doers is almost the di
rect opposite of the orthodox hades.
The place of torment for the reprobate
sons of the north is called Nastrond,
and is situated far toward the frigid
north and is directly under Nifibeim,
the Scandinavian mycologists' purga
tory. A describtion of Nastrond aa
it apppears in the "Pros* Eda" (writ'
ten in Iceland in the thirteenth cen
tury) is as follows: "In Nastrond there
is a vast and direful structure with
doors that face the north. This build
ing is formed entirely of the backs and
scales of serpents, wattled together
like wicker work. But the heads of
the serpents themselves are turned
toward the Inside of the hall, and they
continually vomit forth floods of venom,
in which must wade throughout
eternity all those who commit murder
or swear to lies." Another description
of Nastrond is similar to this, but adds
that the evil doers are occasionally
bitten by the great dragon Nidhogg.
Tbe Wake Woke Him to Life
The particulars of an extraordinary
case of trance, which was mistaken for
death, are published by the Irish Times.
Last week a young man, aged twenty
two, named Garrigan, living at Balli
nacree, near Oldcastle, was believed to
have died. He had b«en ailing for
some time, aud all the appearances of
death were shown, so that no doubt of
his decease was entertained. The usual
wake preparatory to burial wm begun,
and a number of neighbors had arrived
at the house to share the night watches.
Suddenly signs of animation were ob
served in the apparently lifeless body.
Five minutes later it was clear that
tbe young man had been in a trance
and was on the way to recovering hia
senses. The occurrence created a great
sensation. Many of those present fled
from the house and would not return.
All were deeply moved and the scene
for some time was one of intense ex
Miss Waitin—O, Mr. Hangbaque, did
you read in the papers about the tax
which they impose upon bachelors in
Mr. Hangbaque No. Do thej»
"Yes. What do you think of It?
"Pretty good scheme, I should think
—no one tries to evade it, I suppose."
—Detroit Tribune.
A Case la Fotet.
"There are times," said the man
with the oratorical manner, "when we
are overwhelmed with humiliation at
the powerlessness of the human mind.
"Tnat'a very true," was the reply.
"I am often made to feel so."
"Yes. I have a four-year-old daugh
ter who asks questions."—Philadelphia
Recognised the Symptom*.
"Who has No. 28?" asked the hotel
"Mr. Hayseed," replied the boy.
"That accounts for it," said the
clerk. "He has just sent down word
1 tha. he's got a bad attack of asthma
and wants a doctor. Run up and turn
off the gas."—Puck.
Mrs. Cobwisger—So the doctor no
longer laughs at the Idea that your
has the whooping-cough.
I What brought him around toyour way
j ol tLinking?
' Mrs. i*couvuaid—it JP

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