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CH IS. <i. MOkhAl). I r .. . „ . . A. a OSOINACW, ) B£Uon a!,i Proprietor* i’ubtfsJied Kvcrv Saturday at Hay Hi. Louis, Mlm IN CIDER-MAKING TIME. 1 llko tho balmy days of spring when every thing Is new; Thr skits srem lifted up In dreams of tender, melting blue; The robin rarols sweetly as he shows hi* crim son breast, And bluebirds swell the chorus as they build I heir happy nest. And scarcely have the Ice-bound brooks their vernal* changing run. When golden dandelions smile their welcome to the sun. But yet for me the time of year that seems In sweetest rhyme Arc those fair autumn daygthat come In cidor rnaking time The summer work is over and the grain Is In the shed The frost-kissed loaves are blushing In a flush of fairest red. T'pon the clear, uplifting air their gladsome songs are borne. As buskers In the autumn fields ore harvest ing the corn. And mystic voices whisper all among the for est trees As ripened nuts arc falling to the touch of every breeze The woodland dells are echoing the soft and silvery chime. The fairy bells are ringing In the elder-making time. That is the time the orchard In Its praises deep and mute Returns its thanks to nature In Its red and golden fruit- The gracious mood of goodness and the grate ful heart of praise Seem woven In the offering of the orchard’s harvest days. The scent of sweetest blossom hides In every honeyed pore. The fragrance of the buds of spring Is prisoned In each core. And all the gentle dews that came In summer’s golden prime Are flowing from the swelling vats In cldor inaklng time. And so I say thot while I like the freshness of the spring. And later on the pleasures which the summer time may bring And winter, too. which, though the skies are sometimes dark and drear. Is just the time to till the heart and home with Joyful cheer: Vet I Insist that of them all I like that season best That comes to man and nature ns a sort of autumn rest; It seems to me there could not be a more de lightful clime Tor anyone than ours Is In elder-making time. —Nixon Waterman. In Chicago Journal. THANKS TO THE SNAKE. An Incident of Llfo In Far Away Ooylon. "Ih there very much more of this climbing, Mr. Elverton? 1 don't real ly think 1 can keep on much longer.” And l,cnn Wolmer leaned up against the rock and panted for breath, as she looked at her companion, a handsome young man of live or six and twenty, whose sunburnt features took on a deeper (lush beneath his broad brimmed felt hat while he answered, penitently: "Miss Wolmer, I’m awful ly sorry; tint I thought we should have been on the top an hour ago, I really did, I assure you: and 1 am beginning to lie afraid 1 have altogether miscal culated tile distance somehow.” "Are you quite sure this dreadful mountain has a top?” asked Miss Wol mer. "Eor my part, I have very consid erable, doubts on the subject. Or per haps"—she went on with a laugh— "the trouble is Mr, Elverton does not know how to (ind it'.’ Come, Mr. El verton, confess you have lost the way. 1 our easy manner does not deceive me in the least, and I have been quite con vinced for some time that you were off the track; so you may as well make an open disclosure of your errors. What is the good of going on, up, and up, iind up, and never apparently getting any nearer the end of our journey?” the young planter looked somewhat abashed as he replied: “I have ob served that as a general rule If one continues to go up hill, one comes to the top some time or other. This moun tain, however, I am bound to admit, seems fated to prove the opposite. In fact, ns you very neatly put it, either iiantaua lias no top at all, or else"— Tie paused, and met the merry sparkle in Miss Wolmer's eyes with a like twinkle in his own. “Yes, Mr. Elverton?” “Well, or else, I don't know how to get there. Now, the whole story is out, Miss Lena, and it only remains for you to crush mo with your seovn.” "Then you hurt lost the road! Oh, this is truly delicious I” cried Lena, clapping her hands. "What will Marry say, when he hears? You remember how he seotfed last night when you proposed the ex pedition. 'Nonsense! Take lady through that jungle. It can’t be done; the thing is perfectly preposterous, and not to be thought of.’ He will never let us hear the end of this morning's work, I am afraid. Mr. Elverton.” “Me, you mean. He can’t throw any contempt on your shoulders, Miss Lena. It is all my fault you have not seen the sun rise from the top of Kan tana; and I shall never cease to be hu miliated, when I think of it. Howev er, don’t let us dwell on our ignoble failure any longer. Suppose we throw the thing up now, and go no farther? I can see you are fatigued; and you have done enough, anyway, already for the honor and glory of your sex; for 1 am quite sure no woman—no Eng lish woman, at least—was ever so far up the steep sides of llantana. Be sides, the sun is growing hot, and it will soon be almost dangerous for yon to be out in it. Even ns It is, we shall have a scorching going back to our horses, unless I am much mis taken.” , “Well,” assented Miss Wolmer, "I should not have liked to make the pro posal myself, for I always hate to be the first to give in; but since you have owned to your sins sc honestly, I don’t mind confessing on my side that I’ve had quite enough of Ceylon mountain eering to last me for the rest of my life. Creepers and tree fern are lovely to look at; but when it comes to strug gling up hill through the jungle, 1 think 1 prefer the less picturesque veg etation of my native land. 1 must real ly have a rest before wc begin the de ecent, Mr. Elverton.” “Are you so very tired, then?” asked Tom Elverton, looking at her anxious ly. “I shall never forgive myself, Miss Lena, If you are the worse of this mad exploit. I cannot forget it was 1 who proposed it. bee, here la a stone that looks pretty comfortable. Do you think yon could manage to get a little rest on it, while 1 go along this ridge • bit and ae* If 1 can’t find you an orange or two? 1 think I can make out some native huts down in von hol low, and there are always oranges or plantains in tiie Singalee man's gar den. I’ll have a look at the lie of the land, too; there must lie an easier way down, you know, for I have evi dently got off the trade somehow com ing up.” "Very well,” replied Lena. “Go, by all means, Mr. Klverton; and may cverv success attend you. I shall be glad if we can get back without pass ing through that scarlet lantana again; for, though it is so beautiful, 1 shall not soon forget how it can scratch one's face and hands. But don't be vexed with yourself for bringing me here. I wanted to come just ns much as you wanted to take mej and though I am Just a little tired now, the whole trip has been delightful so far, 1 don t believe, moreover, the sunrise could have possibly been any grander from the top than from the point we saw it. The view of those waves of mist rolling off these great peaks was magnificent, and well worth all our loll; so do not think for a moment I regret our expedition, Mr. Klverton, though in a certain sense it, has been a failure.” “It is like you to say so.” responded Tom. gratefully. “All the same, I feel I have disgraced myself. I was so sure I could find the way, I wouldn't even bring a coolie with us. If I had, we should never have got into this mess. But,” continued the young planter in a lower tone, as he ar ranged Lena’s shawl on the rock, and poked about with his stick to make sure no hidden snake or venomous spider would share her resting-place, "you must remember what a tempta tion it was to me to have you all to myself for a few hours.” Lena Wolmer’s cheeks flushed, but she made no reply; and Tom, after lingering for a moment or two, ns if expecting her to answer, went off, as he said, “to explore.” The young lady watched him disap pear round the end of the net rock, and then turned to feast her eyes on the prospect before her. A cay below lay Kandy, the lovely little mountain capital of Ceylon, its white houses and red-tiled roofs already shining in the morning's sunbeams; and between her and them, the waters of the lake gleamed through the sago-palms aud cocoanut trees; while, far away to the left, she could just catch a sparkle here and there of the broad Matia welllgauga flowing silently to its ocean home, past the dark-green coffee estates and the lighter-tinted paddy fields. Nearer, the sun shone on miles of tea plantations, with here and there the picturesque bungalow of a planter, or a row of native lints, which Lena had already learned to call “lines." Amongst them all, she easily recognized the clump of trees in the midst of which stood her brother's bungalow, and her own present home. Lena was a fresh arrival in Cey lon. A good many years younger than her only brother, the clever, long-headed proprietor of Duemalla estate, she had spent her orphan girl hood at a London boarding-school, and hardly ever remembered that she had a brother, except when his annual let ter. containing the draft to pay her fees, brought him to her mind. But there were just these two left out of their family; he, the eldest, and she, the youngest; and when her school days were done, there seemed nothing else for her to do hut to go out and join him in his far-off homo. Harry Wolmer was not greatly delighted. He had a poor opinion of women gen erally, and looked forward to his sis ter s arrival as a disagreeable event that could not he prevented. However, "’hen she dime, he was very kind to her, and endured with wonderful pa tience the invasion ot his old bachelor Privacy by all theyoung fellows round about, wlio came like bees to a sugar bowl, as soon as the district learned that \\ ulmer's sister had Appeared. The proprietor of Duemalla had really somethin# to endure; his front veranda was besieged by ardent youths, who came uninvited to breakfast, tiffin, and dinner, and hung over the new mis tress of the bungalow, listening to her conversation ns if she were inspired, accompanying tier songs on their vio lins. or bringing her the skins of all sorts of wild animals which they hud sliot, and snipe, which they implored her to have cooked for her dinner; while the back veranda was equally crowded with their horse-keepers, snoring comfortably in shady corners, or chewing the social betel-nut in the intervals of discussing their masters' characters. However, Mr. Wolmer bore it all with great good nature, and only inquired now and then of Lena when tlie wedding was to he, and which of all her adorers was the man of her choice. 1-enn on her part enjoyed her posi tion immensely, it was a now thing to her to be so courted and admired; and though she was sorry for the un fortunates whom she was constantly rejecting, her head was perhaps just a trifle turned by all the admiration she received. One very wealthy Scotch man paid her special attention, and she had determined to marry him. When lie asked her. she would accept him. though she liked Tom Elverton best. Hut Tom was only a poor S. 1)., or ‘little master. - as the Tamils say. In other words, he was simply Mr. Wol mer’s assistant, and hail not a penny beyond his salary. And Lena, who had been poor all her life, did not feel inclined to go on in poverty when lux ury ami riches were within her reach. So Tom had been rejected, like the other ten or eleven adorers who hail offered themselves to Miss Wolmer: hut he still came about the bungalow, though lie had no hope in his heart. He could not bear to stay away, some how; and yesterday, when Lena had expressed a wisli to see the sun rise from Hantana, he had been lifted up into the seventh heaven of joy, when she accepted his offer of himself as a guide. To tell the truth, Lena was specially sorry for Tom; and though she was quite resolved not to marry him. she could not resist making him as happy as she was able, in the mean time. Her eyes got dewy now, as site thought of him and his lender rare of her all the way up. "Poor Tom! she mused. "I wonder whv the nicest people are always the ones that have no money? .Now. if t had money, or lie had been rich, we might have been happy together. But then, it is not to be thought of, Lena, my dear. A girl with ten pounds a year to her fortune emi t marry a man with nothing a year for his, that's certain; ami Harry says tlie same; so there's nothing for it lint Mr. Alexander MaeAlpiue though Mrs, Alexander Mac.Upine sounds dreadful compared with"— But Lena did not finish her thought*. The long rest after exertion, combined with the heat, was beginning to make her drowsy. The rustle of the leaves of n palm tree near, ns they flapped backwards and forwards In the breeze, sounded In her ears like the distant wash of the ocean, and she fancied herself hack on board ship, lying in her berth and listening to the lapping of the water against the side of the vessel. Then she was at school and the governess was speaking to her and telling her to wake up. "Yes, Miss Martin,” she tried to say. and struggled to lift her heavy eyelids, while Miss Martin seemed to stare at her with a strangely stony look. At last, with a great effort, she opened her eyes. There, facing her, and just rearing its head to strike, lay a large snake ifis beautiful glossy skin shone in the bright sun and his eyes were fixed on her. Lena uttered not a sound -voice and tongue alike failed her; and help less, almost paralyzed with terror, she sat looking at the horrible creature, not daring even to breathe, lest lie should make the fatal spring. After wards, she remembered thinking— such strange beings we are—how very exactly the two shades of brown matched in the markings of his skin. A moment passed thus; then suddenly there was a shout, and Tom Elverton, crashing through the jungle, caught the snake by the throat and strangled jt. Quick as lightning it was done. 1 oni Elverton had not spent hours •watching the native snake charmers for nothing: but, in spite of his dex terity, the snake was swifter than even he. and, twisting itself round in his hand, it bit him on the wrist ere it died. “Oh, thank 00(1,“ cried Lena, begin ning to tremble, now that the danger was over. “But it has bitten yon, Mr. Elverton. Oh, what shall we do?" “Never mind that,” said Tom, look ing at tlie creature now lying on the ground. "I don’t believe U was a dangerous snake at all. Anyway, you’re not hurt, and that is the great thing. I dropped my stick coming back, else I could easily have knocked him over with that; but I might have struck you ns well; so perhaps It's a good thing that I hadn't it, after all.” Tom spoke lightly, but his face was visibly paling as he spoke. The pain was ranking him faint, and he leaned against the rock. “Mr. Elverton," said Lena, timidly, “let me bind up your hand for you.” lie held it out without a word, and Lena looked at the mark of the bite. “Are you quite sure it was not a poison ous snake?” she asked, falteringly. "Well, perhaps not quite sure,” he responded! “but I think not, Miss Lena ” She grew suddenly very red. “Do you remember the story of Queen Ele anor, Mr. Elverton?” "Queen Eleanor,” he answered, won deringly, looking into her tearful eyes. "I am afraid I am rather hazy in my history, Oh." he abruptly broke off, “you mean about the poisoned dag ger? And his face Hushed as deeply ns her own. “No, Miss Lena, that would never do, thank you. A man might allow his wife to risk her life for him, perhaps, but this is different. 1 am not Mr. Mae Alpine, remember,” he concluded, rather bitterly. “But if you will tie a handkerchief round my wrist I shall be grateful to yon for that, and then wo must go down to our horses as fust us we can. I’ve found the road now, you’ll be glad to hear." “Tom,” said Lena, In a very low voice, “if you will lot me be your Queen Eleanor now I’ll—l’ll be your wife afterwards.” There Is no need to record Mr. Elver ton’s reply. Hut there is a lady now in the assistant's bungalow at Duo malia, and the appu, who used to cheat bis master in the most systematic and barefaced manner, has fallen upon evil days, for he has to reckon with a stern mistress for every pound of sugar and measure of rice he brings from the ba zar. Consequently, Tom finds, to his great surprise, that he hardly spends any more money as a married man than he did as a bachelor; and his stores last ever so much longer, how that "Queen Eleanor,” us he calls his wife, keeps the f/odmen keys. In the center of their cheerful draw ing-room, mounted oi a handsome brass stand, there is a splendid stuffed specimen of the snake tribe, whioh Tom occasionally shows his visitors. “That fellow was the best friend ever I had,” he says, "for through his help I got my wife.” Mr. Mae Alpine is still unmarried; but it is supposed in the district that ho has lately “indented home” for a young lady to come out; and Airs. Tom Elverton is particularly anxious to know what she will be like. "Though, Tom, my dear,” she says, "I shall never be too glad 1 learned sense in time, thanks to the snake.”—Brown Paterson, in Chambers’ Journal. Know Ve by These Presents. “Say, gents, can’t you give a poor fellow a few cents to get something to eat?” One of the men hesitated, and then put his hand in his pocket, but his companion took him by the arm and turned upon the beggar. (at out of this," he said, in a tone which seemed almost brutal, and the beggar turned away abruptly. “Don't you think you were pretty rough to him?" asked the man who hail shown inclination to give alms. “No," answered the friend unsym pathetically, “he’s a professional.” "How do you know?” “Just keep your wits about you when a beggar approaches you. That fellow said ‘gents.’ That’s profession al. He called himself a poor fellow. That’s professional, lie asked for a few cents. That’s professional. And. what’s more to my point, he kept re peating his sentences over and over again. The professional beggar is like an actor lie has his lines and he always reads them in the same way Don't let one of those fellows fool you again."—N. Y. Tribune The Worst Part of It. A Boston gentleman who, upon his return from the country, found that his city house had been entered dur ing his absence, and his heavy over coat. among other things, had been appropriated, was talking o( the theft the other day. “I do not mind the mere loss of the coat,” he said, “but 1 do decidedly hate to think of the com fort the thief has In prospect when the winter wind* begin to roar."—Boston Budget. Humility, like beauty, disappears the moment it becomes setf-eonseiou-. Better tie humble over your pride than proud over your humility.— Vnune Me us Era. WOMAN AND HOME PINEAPPLE fiECIPES* Mill Delirious Fruit Can He Prepared In Variety of Way*. The most important thing to know itboni pineapples is how to cut them, and ignorance of the proper manner in which this should be done is respon sible for much of the distaste awarded to this tender and delicious fruit. The pine should Srst be peeled, tak ing care to cut well inside the eyes to remove the sharp spear which each eye contains. Then stand the pine on end and wring off the crown or top, never cut it off. With a sharp knife then cut the pine in thin slices f-om lop to bottom and keep turning t % pine around and slice to the core. I'ut the slices in a dish and let stand until ready to serve, when sugar may be added if desired. Under no circumstance add the sugar Until the last moment, as It draws out the juices of the fruit and injures the flavor. This is a tender point and one not generally known, but if you will follow these directions fully the result will be a dish incapable of harm to anyone, both tender and delicious. Pineapple shortcake is n tempting dessert and is made as follows: Take half a cufltul of butter, one cupful of sugar, half ft cupful of milk, two cupfuls of flour and two tenspoon fuls of baking powder. Hake in two layers and spread chopped pineapple between the layers after the cake is cold. This recipe is very popular down where the pines grow, but any recipe for strawberry shortcake will do as well by substituting the pine for the berries. Another and Still more delicious use for tills fruit is known as pineapple biegnets: Cut the n*“. into pieces the size of a silver quarter dollar and a quarter of an inch thick. Let these steep for an hour in brandy, sweetened with pow dered sugar, then dip in liatter and fry in boiling fat until they are quite crisp and of a golden yellow color. Take them up in a strainer and put them in a hot baking tin. sprinkle with confectioner’s sugar and set in a hot oven to gla/e. When they look bright and glossy dish on white paper and lerve hot.—N. Y. Herald. PRETTY TEA CLOTHS. Contidrrrd an Fiamlliil I’art of a ( orr> a Eotrrtaimnrnt. The fashion In five o'clock tea cloths ordains that a cloth of fine white linen should have a deep border of rich bro cade, the seams where the two ma terials join being' covered by a row of large single flowers embroidered in crewel stitch. The linen canter la then covered with tiny stars embroidered in the color of the brocade. Thus a cloth with a pale mauve brocade border has a row of embroidered pansies covering the seam and pale mauve stars in the center. Lace braids are more and more used in embroidery, on the ground that they furnish the appearance of fancy stitches without the trouble of making them. An afternoon tea cloth recently pra sented to a bride was of white silk, TKA CLOTH nollllKU bordered with White and silver bro cade. with an insertion of beautiful lace between the silk and the brocade. In each corner of the silk center was an exquisite group of the bride’s name flower worked in raised white silk em broidery, outlined with silver thread. In the center her monogram was worked, and it was surrounded by a garland of the same flowers tied with a true-lover's knot.—N. Y. Tribune What llmi with What. Some cooks never know just what to serve with different meats as relish. Following is a table of things considered the proper caper; With roast beef, grated horseradish; roast mutton, currant jelly; boiled mutton, caper sauce; roast pork, apple sauce; boiled chicken, bread sauce; roast lamb, mint sauce; roast turkey, oyster sauce; venison or wild duck, black currant Jelly; broiled fresh mackerel, sauce or stewed gooseberries; boiled blueflsh, white cream sauce; broiled shad, boiled rice and salad; compote of pigeons, mushroom sauce; fresh salmon, green pens with cream sauce; roast goose, apple sauce. Keolpe for Almond Macaroon*. Pour boiling water over half a pound of shelled almonds, remove the outer skin and plunge into cold water for a few minutes, then pound them to a smooth paste, s ddieg a teaspoonful of lemon essence, add a pound of pulver ised sugar and the beaten whites of three eggs. Work the paste together, dip the hands in water and roll the paste into balls the size of large nut megs. Lay on buttered paper an inch apart. Dip hands In water and pass finger tips over macaroons to make them smooth and shining. Set in a cool oven for forty-five mlnntes. These macaroons arc very nice, and if made right are as good as those made by con fectioners. Mow to Ontror Bedbug*. Clean the paint of the room thor oughly, and set in the center of the room a dish containing four ounces of brimstone. Light It and close the room ns tight as possible, stopping the keyhole of the door with paper, to keep the fumesof the brlmatone in the room. Let it remain for three or four hours, then open the windows and air thor oughly. The brimstone will be found to have also bleached the paint If It was a yellowish white. For Nervous Houdache. A simple but often effective way of relieving nervous headache is to bathe the head freely in water ns hot os can be borne. This should be applied not alone to the temples, but to the back of the ears and the back of the nock, where tub nerve* are very numerous. The effect is. in moat cases, soothing and beneficial. BORDERS FOR DOILIES. toms Hew Design* Which Arc ArtistM and lullr Made. 'fhe accompanying' illustrations are designed for borders to lie worked upon dollies, tray cloths, tidies or any of their near relatives, in outline stitch with wash silk of any desirable shade. Very little explanation is needed, as the illustrations speak quite plainly for themselves. The little pansies and daisies are conventional in design, but it will add greatly to their artistic ef fect if they are not all “twins,” but are made to vary in gome slight de tails. The pansy faces may nod toward each other a little In one case and turn away from each other further on in the border, thus relieving the "setuess" of any absolutely conventional pattern. It takes but a little taste and, skill to make this variation, and the effect gained will more than repay one's work. In the case of the daisies, a petal or two twisted here and there relieves the stiffness very greatly. The intertwining Stems form n beautiful in side finish to the border. The fancy stitching on the outside edge may vary almost Indefinitely, the illustrations •VIEW ZMEtieirt FOR EMBROIDERT suggesting two styled. Of course, 11 one has not the “gift" of making one's pencil obey one's fancies the little va riations in the border can be omitted, and it can be made simply a repetition throughout of one little daisy blossom or pansy face. The design is sketched or stamped upon the linen with colored crayon or a soft pencil.—American Ag riculturist STEAMING THE FACE. How to Perform This Youth and Health Imparting Operation. Have the teakettle boiling for you at a certain hour. Take a newspaper, fold down the middle, pin two of the ends behind and put it over your head like a big hood, letting it come well over your face in front. Hub your face thoroughly with any good cold cream, sit down by the kitchen range, your paper bag over your head and your nose as close to the spout of the boiling kettle as you dare to. Don't tempt fate too far, or you may burn your face. Keep turning first one cheek and then the other, so that all parts of the face may be steamed equally. Keep this up for fifteen or twenty minutes or until you ha ve perspired freely. Now don't rub this grease and perspiration off with a towel, but take a silver-bladed knife and gently scrape the debris away, even as a man scrapes whiskers from his features. After every bit is removed bathe the face with warm water in which a few drops of sweet-scented benzoin have been poured. If you are going out doors dash the face with cold water to prevent chapping, but if you are going to remain at home rub a little cold cream under the eyes, over the eye brows and behind the ears, for these are the quarters in which the telltale wrinkles first begin to come. Then go lie down and take n nap and waken re freshed and as glowing ns a sixteen vear-old girl.—lie-.lth. Fatting a New Fane on the Matter* The Mother —I want yon to keep that young man at a distance, Jennie. If you don’t he’ll tie proposing to you. The Daughter—lie has almost as good as proposed already. The M.—How is that? The D.—He said yon would make a lovely mother-in-law. The M.—lie did? Well, perhaps you had better accept him. You might do worse.—H. Y. Dress. A Good Runn. At a social gathering a widow not engaged in tripping the light fantastic toe, a gentleman approached her and asked: “Arc you not going to dance this evening?” "Not until after midnight.” “Why not before?" “Because to-day is the anniversary of my second husband’s death.”—Tam many Times. A Fair Question. Judge—This gentleman charges you with stealing his bull-pup, valued at seventy-five dollars. What have you to say? Prisoner—Well, judge, do you honest ly think that a man wot’s fool enough to pay seventy-five dollars for a snub nosed, pig-eyed littltt brute like that has got sense enough to know his own dog when he sees him?—Good News. POWERFUL IMAGINATION. Night Watchman— What are you do ing there? Student—l'm going home.—Fliegendo Blaetter. No OcuMlon for PnnrtlUonn*. “Is this your umbrella, sir?” in quired the stranger in the brown suit, hurrying after the stranger in the drab suit who had just got off the train. “My dear sir," answered ike othei “there need be no formalities in this case. We both saw it in the vacant I sqat at the same time. Yon got it first. I 1 <'' St is gold-handled affair and 1 congratulate you. Good duv!”-Chl cago Tribune. A FAIR TRADE. Two Western Horsemen Who Come Out Kven on n Swap. ■tint McCnc and a stranger traded sad dle horses at .San Rafael, Cal., the other day, and, according to the evidence of reputable witnesses, the bargain was consummated in this way; “Miah, stranger?” ‘‘Hiah?" responded the stranger, dis mounting. “ Likely looking horse you got there.” "They ain’t raised no better. "Lookin’ fora trade?” “Swap anything I got but the old i woman.” "Jim commenced examining the horse critically. After he had walked aronnd the animal he gave the stranger a chance to He a little by inquiring: "How old is he?” "Five year old.” Jim grabbed the horse by the nose and pried his jaws apart with his thumbs. “His teeth tell me he is six," said Jim decisively. "Well, he’s a January colt." “He’s a mite thin. Aiu'thidc-bound, is he?” And Jim prodded the horse in the ribs with his thumbs. "No. I have been chasin'stock on him for two months and stakin’ him out on grass.” “Must ha’ been runnln’ him pretty hard, judgin’ from the windgalls on him. lie's got a ringbone cornin’, too." remarked Jim, as he rubbed the ani mal’s pastern. “I *Ht apiut u. off foreleg?" "No, that’s a rope burn.” "Is that swoeney or a collar burn?" and Jim examined the horse’s shoulder critically. “Just scratched from runnin' through the brush.” “Must a been jumpin’ him consider able. He's showing a little curb. Hello, he's stifled or badly sprained.” "No, sir; he's m sound ns a dollar.” “(food stock horse?” “You can turn him on a sheepskin. What kind of a plug is that you’ve got; And the stranger examined Jim's horse as critically as Jim has scrutinized his, and found all the defects and disease; that a veterinarian ever heard of. "Well, how'll you swap?” inquired Jim. The stranger dropped a fresh chew of fine cut in his jaw and Jim got out his jack knife and went to work on a shingle. Both sat down on a dry goods box. “I’ll take boot,” said the stranger, a; he killed a fly at three yards with a stream of tobacco juice. “You won’t take it from me,” said Jim, ns he cut a long shaving from the shingle. “Oimme twenty dollars tc boot and we'll trade.” “Twenty dollars ought to buy that pinto plug of yourn, but gimme fifteen dollars and the horse is yours.” The stranger drowned a whole bunch ol flies that had congregated on an apple core and Jim shed three shavings in succession. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll split the difference. You gimme two dol lars and a half to boot and take the filly.” "Never give boot in my life and ain’t goin' to git in the habit of it now," said the stranger decisively. “Guess we can’t swap then.” Jim was getting in his fine work and cut fine shavings to correspond. “Gimme five dollars and we swap," remarked fhe stranger after a long pause. "No. I'll be demmod if I do. What’s cattle worth up your way?” Jim had evidently abandoned all idea of a trade. “Four'n a half on foot for steers. Hay, I'll trade you even up.” Jim shut one eye and cut a long shaving, examined the horse again, and dashed his hand in front of each of the horse's eyes to be sure that ho wasn’t blind. “Is he well broke to the saddle?” “Never bucked a lick in his life. How's yourn?” “Gentle as a kitten.” “I’ll go you if you’ll treat.” “No, I’ll shake you for the drinks.” “It’s a go,” decided the stranger, throwing his fine cut against the side of the box. They shifted saddles, took their drink, and each went around blowing about how he had swindled the other. That night the horse bucked Jim off on the way home, and the pinto filly kicked in three of the stranger’s ribs.— N. Y. Advertiser. They Don't Talk Politics. Nowhere in Russia do politics enter into the life of the people. Politics in Russia are the czar, and whatever he does is right. You cannot induce a Russian, at least an Archangel, to touch on politics even in friendly con versation. When the czar's “name day” comes round, as it did the other day, the houses are decorated for the event. But even this is controlled by the authorities. “Two flags for this bouse, three for yours, hang them out of the window,” and this is done. They worship the late czar—they have made of him a saint, as they have made a Messiah of Alexander 111. Ask them when the St. Petersburg railway is to be made, when the poor are to be bet ter paid, when the children are to play in the sunshine instead of slaving in gangs in the ships—“ When the czar comes,” is always what they say. The czar will never come. 1 think they might lake that as established if they would, though the other czars have pilgrimage to" tile tto/y 'jli'es?— L&S& man’s Magazine. Somethin* About Hosiery. A cotton stocking is preferred by many women to a lisle thread, as the twist of the thread in the lisle ones ir ritates the soles of the feet. Dark blue and black stockings are liked for street wear, except when tan shoes are worn, and then, of course, the stockings match the shoes. The navy blue stock ing is usually chosen by those who find that the dye from a black stocking af fects their skin. This is by no means common, but the very minute it is dis covered one should cease wearing the black and select another color, or else 1 wear white, for one never knows to what extent a skin disorder may go. With gray or scarlet shoes or slippers the stockings are chosen to match, and these may be gotten in silk at a much lower price than is given for black ones.—Chicago Post, —C’ommodus had an insane desire for notoriety. He wanted to hear people talk about him. He. had fought in the arena hundreds of times, only that he might enjoy the plaudits of the popu lace. His cruelties almost surpass be lief. lie was finally poisoned by his favorites, who discovered that he in tended to put them all to death, but the poison not being snflleiently speedy, n gladiator was called, who choked him to death. THE _STAGE. '"I J utizlnff “line Jw ( ] , ' i,n <n (lr Bfn . be ready i„ the OOITXOD i4 "F&flfct” vvlli thousandth performance aT n have to Opera. Ambroise Thomas H * *** asked to write the music f ’te* which will he Introduced *'* #i slon to glorify the composer ° cca - Mas. Fanny Srijuiv-n . fifty years held a high ,or °*t ! English stage, hnvlmr „,o or ' r,TI ‘hs | ready In W Irving in 1880, has j„st m! H<,llr l nearly eighty. Kir \Villlam r ** an octogenarian like herself "* ,for - v ' ; Mr. Bkbhdoiim Tirk receuH . ported his entire company sons from IJalmorol, where h/T been acting before (he queen bn in time for the next evening formance. The distance of 7 J*' fired and sixty-ope miles, passage of the Irish sen. , v , '"? lh ‘ less than seventeen hours. to tmokc, 1 OotTrl’ 'ion,','" dear, l’.n sure it Isn’t. " L v .^T' V you so sure! ” Fannv-“Kecause 3J‘ W band doesn't smoke, and if u I’m sure he would do tl,”-H ( ilf H “u2j W 1 1 Aiiliu UO * f lju.t j u.xc 11.".„ - her trip abroad.” Mrs dear, it must have been lerrihlv doll h living with the house closed all inter Ocean. ~ Widow—“ Well, Mr. Brief, have vou ~-a the wllli" Brief "Yes, but I rsnTS anything out of it." Heirs "I-etuihAwh patented. A will that a lawyer can’t anything out of is a bleEsi g :”-MiUvauk!J Piiiaoxnu (sentenced to tendavsl-ows.. icon Id ye do If 01 said yo was un mild fuh? Judge-” You would got ten days motX contempt.” Prisoner "Tliiii, btwomoS notsay It—Ol’U only think it.”—N Y HerW “Mrs. Banoi.k Is perfectly devoted to s childrens Mrs Slasher -How Hadl How do you make that outt r ’ Met r ““ rli '" ? "*•"* “Tiisub’s one thing certain. Mis Mio. ny s grief Is really genuine.” -Merer eT her husband was so much company for h new pet parrot.’’- Inter Ocean ft Low . Water H In Rivers. Ponds, Wells, and other sourm of drinking water threatens danger from malarial germs. This condition is usually found In the Fall, and It points to Hood’s Sarsaparilla as a safeguard against attsrki of disease. Hood’s Sarsaparilla makss pure blood, and thus guards the system from all these perils. It creates an apps ttte and gives sound and robust health. Hood’s “- A. M %%%%%% parilla “ X have been using 0 0 _ Hood’s Sarsaparilla ■ 11 rPS occasionally for the WL J w last three years. 1 ’%%%%% have suffered from malaria fever for fro years, and have tried many kinds of medi cine, but ftumd no relief till 1 commenced to take Hood’s Sarsaparilla I have ail confidence In it, and believe it to ho far superior to anv other tonic." P. J. Km (IKHALD, 131 Ninth Kt„ 80. Boston. Miss. Hood’B PIIIB cure all liver Ills, tto. 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