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TERROR TO STOCKMEN.
The Gray Wolf and Its Destruction of Prairie Herds. One of the greatest enemies of the stock ranger on the great prairies is the gTay wolf, known among students of nat ural history as Oanis latrans. It is the largest wolf that roams the American continent and is no doubt the most vo racious. It is very tricky in its method of warfare and never fights or attacks in 1lie open. It preys upon live stock in the corrals at night, when it is the boldest In approaching habitations, and its usual method of attack is to jump upon young animals, catch them by the back and in one snap of the jaw break the vertibree. In daylight on the plains these gray wolves will follow a herd of cattle for hours, generally traveling in pairs or trios. They will pick out a victim, such 1 GRAY WOLF OF THE PLAISS. as an old cow with a calf, and gradually work in between the cow and the herd, circling her out, as the cowboys call it. And when far away sufficiently from the herders they will pounce upon the calf and kill it in a twinkling. If the cow shows fight, one of the wolves will slip np behind her and sud denly spring upon her hock and ham string her by severing the tendon with one quick snap of the jaws. Then the cow falls an easy victim. The wolves spring upon her throat, open an artery with their teeth, and she soon bleeds to death. State governments offer bounties for the destruction of wolves and coyotes, ranchmen put out poison, set traps and hunt for them, but they are steadily in creasing in all parts of the west and cost hundreds of thousands of dollars annually in loss of stock. If any means could be devised for the extinction of the race, it would prove the greatest bless ing to western stockmen.—Lute Wilcox in Denver Field and Farm. Sheep Always Pay. T veiy well remember the first start we made in the new direction by buy ing 13 cull ewes, at twice what they •were worth, giving a note in payment, and how those 13 old ewes the next spring gave us 21 lambs, and how the wool from the ewes and the wether lambs and half of the old ewes that we culled out and sold because they had no teeth went to pay the note, and how from that day the sun began to rise on our fortunes. As soon as I had a few dollars that I could call my own I in vested them in sheep, and from that day to this I have owned sheep—sometimes by the thousands, generally by the hun dreds, and- occasionally only a few doz en. I have never seen a year from that time to this hut that my sheep have giv en me a balance to profit when my books were balanced on the first day of Janu v ary. Sometimes it has been small—so 'igraqll that it could hardly he called a profit—hut at other times it has been large, and covering the whole period of thirty odd years it has been fairly good. 2 have handled other kinds of live stock. Horses have made me some money, cows a little and hogs a little, but no class of stock has paid me so well for the money invested, for the feed consumed and for the care given as has the sheep. Its hoof lias truly been golden!—George JdcKerrow. Swimming a Horse. It must net be supposed that a horse always swims naturally and with ease the moment that he is off his feet in the water. The animal under such circum stances has but one notion—to keep his head out of the water and lift his shoul ders as high as possible. In doing this his hind quarters sink and ho finds him self almost standing on his tail or at least a position three-quarters erect. In such an attitude, if the rider draws up the reins or throws his body back in the least, the animal’s hind quarters will sink more and more, his body will take a vertical position, and, beating the water nselessly with his fore feet, he will finally sink. As soon as the horse gets off his feet in the water let the rider grasp the animal’s mane, leaning at the same time well forward upon its shoulders, but without touching its head. The rider’s knees should be press ed tightly to the horse’s sides; otherwise he is likely to be swept off by the water. This is the only position which will en able a man to remain in the saddle and the horse to swim at the same time. The reins must be held loosely and each - Well to one side.—Horse World. Mew Hone Markets. It is announced that horses from America are fiuding a profitable market in the Scandinavian countries. A west ern breeder of horses, H. K. Brinnie, went to Norway with a load of animals, which are attracting great attention on account of their size. The Swedish and Norwegian horses are small and wiry. The American horses have brought from $200 to $400 apiece, and a second car go was recently shipped from New York. There is every reason to believe that breeders in this country will be able in future to raise kind, sound, well propor tioned, docile, IS. 2 to 16 hand horses at a profit. ftOSA ROSARUM. Blve me, O friend, the secret of thy heart Safe in my brt ast to hide, Bo that the leagues which keeponr lives apart May not our souls divide. Give me the secret of thy life to lay Asleep within my own Nor dream that it shall mock thee any day By any sign or tone. Nay, a9 in walking through some convent close, Passing beside a well, Oft have wo thrown a red and scented rose To watch it as it fell. Knowing that never more the rose shall rise To shame us, being dead; Watching it spin and dwindle till it lies At rest, a speck of red. Thus, I beseech thee, down the silent deep And darkness of my heart, Cast then a rose. Give me a rose to keep, My friend, before we part. For, as thou passes* down thy garden ways, Many a blossom there Groweth for thee—lilies and laden bays And rose and lavender. But down the darkling well one only rose In all the year is shed. And o’er tba: -•hill :md secret- wave it throws A sudden dawn of red. —Mary F. Robinson in Woman's Journal. 4 irT-jj T’V C' 1 T i rp n 7TTT*CJ AjhLUbl^vr iilAJ.VyJ.liiO. Once upon a time there lived a maid and a youth who were unusually fa mous for their beauty cf face, firmness of character and originality of ideas. They belonged to noble families, and they were extremely fond of each other. One day the maiden, whose name was Zonda, brought forth a beautifully carved golden casket. “See!” she cried to Waldorf, the youth, “I have found this box. It has amused my ancestors for years and contains some matches. Perhaps yon also may some day discover a box like it, for all families possess such a one.” witn tnat sne toucnea a small spring and the box lid flew open. Inside there were waxen matches of all colors. They were about fiv8 inches in length, and each match was divided off with foci little brown circles, marking its inches just like a tape measure affair. These peculiar matches were indeed wonder fully and fearfully constructed. As fcr the box, no matter how many matches one burned np, one would always find the little casket amply replenished by some mysterious agent. “Come,’' said Zonda sweetly, “let ns light some of these. ” Then she struck one of the tapers, and Waldorf did the same. As the blue phosphorescent flames leaped into yellow, these children screamed with ecstasy. A brook babbled at their feet, birds swayed themselves in the trees, thrill ing their fiutelike notes in a frenzy of bird joy. A soft breeze kissed the trees and murmured through the slender grasses. Daisies langhed at sbv violets, ground bujrs chirped with the melody of nature, butterflies floated through the air with lazy grace, and over all the sun spread forth his golden, genial glow, quickening the pulses to the warmth of life and stirring nature and humanity to a depth of feeling for the world in general and 6elf in particular. “Is it not beautiful?” cried Zonda, with flashing eyes. But the youth was awed by the splendor of it all, and hia head was bowed as he answered in a low voice, “Yes. ” “Ah! But we must not let our match es burn beyond this first circle,” said Zonda, “because if we do we may be come unhappy. Come! We will blow out these matches aud light two more. Then we shall behold the same lovely scene over again. For I am content with this, are not yon?” Again the youth assented with a low answered, “Yes.” But by and by he commenced to tire of the birds and flow ers, and the sweet and simple picture ol nature’s life, and after he had observed this scene a few times he said, still in his awed, low breathed voice: “Zonda, I am tired of all this. Let us try the second notch and see what the other scenes are like. ” At nrsr i^oiiaa ncmnrrea, out ne coaxed her in a gentle, persuasive way, and finally with tears in her eyes she allowed the tiny flame to burn through all the beauties of nature’s freshness and beyond the first circle. A strange sensation crept over the boy and girl as this transpired. A thrill of exquisite, harmonious energy quick ened the pulse of Waldorf, while Zonda became possessed of a dreamy, tender mood of sweet thoughts and wonders. A large silver lake glowed before them under a shower of moonbeams. The night was hushed in a dreamlike glory. Occasionally the hoarse croak of a frog, the splash of a glittering fish, the whis perings of the trees, broke the inystio stillness, but save for these sounds the silent, witching beauty of it all was complete. The brain of the youth was quickened wit^ a surge of powerful feeling, and Zonda’s sweet voice was hushed by an exquisite shyness. Again Waldorf spoke. This time his voice was full of a new strength, his tone more loud, more eager. His face was flushed with enthusiasm. “Come,” he murmured excitedly. "Let us have the third notch burned.” "But we have only seen this once,” replied Zonda with a sad hesitation. “We can never see it again,” he re sponded firmly. “At least, we could never see it again and have the same sensations. Of that I am sure. ” And the new strength of his voice made her glance up at him with yet more wonder, and the new expression of his face made her drop her eyes with a swift blush of rose color. And so the third match was burned, and a foaming, writhing ocean swept the sands before them with terrific force. And the roar of the waves as they lashed the shores, and the whispered seothings of the white and green foam, and the glistening shells, the gleaming sands, the mighty bowlders, all impressed them with the grandeur and vastuess of the ocean, the life of the world, and the restlessness of the universe. And now Waldorf. Derceivina that Eonda shrank'back from the spray of the waves and the brisk, salt seasoned breeze, clasped her frightened form in his arms and regarded her with a tender solicitude, and as he did so a light leaped into his eyes which was reflected by a wonderfully responsive light in her eyes. And the ocean with its ever restless surg ing, the sun, the moon, the stars, the clouds, the universe, seemed to disap pear in a glorious harmouy of sounds, vague, vibrating sounds. Her arms crept around his neck, her eyes flashed the lightnings of feminine nature, and his answered with the thun derous force of manhood. And then again he said with a fretful voice: ‘‘Zouda, let us have the fourth notch. I weary of all this active scenery. It is too nervous, too exciting. I yearn for the calm again.” “No.” And this time Zonda’s answer was firm with that strength which is sometimes given to women when they realize that they are being wronged. “No, Waldorf. We have wandered thus far, and now if yon are not satisfied even after having discovered the gran deur of all nature, you never will be. If you are not possessed of the love you have sworn, and if you have simply been amusing yourself by tasting the different priceless wiucs of life, with no ideaoi a choice, except a shiftless desire to see everything and be nothing, the fourth notch I will not burn with you, nor shall yon burn it either until you learn contentment, consideration and a few other things.” And then with a sweet but heartbroken smile she closed the lid of the golden box and left him. The days and weeks and months and years rolled by. At first he could not find himself at fault. It was all Zonda who was erroneous. She was a foolish, willful child woman. She had chartered too much. She had displeased him in every way. He hated her. He could not understand why be had ever eared for her at alL And Zonda, while realizing how rest less he had been with her through all the scenes of their young life, remem bered how his discontent had made her also discontented, how his extreme harshness or his extreme tenderness had always been spasmodic and how cruel his anxiety for new scenes, new things, his eagerness for the world, his small interest in her—ail these she remem bered, and so put aside with aching thoughts her love fcr him, and tried to welcome hate instead. But after four years had passed away Waldorf could stand the separation no longer. He returned to her humiliated, scftened, gentle and calm. He told her that he could net live without her, that she must forgive his past harshness and bum the fourth notch with him; not that he desired to fcnrn it for flippancy's sake, but that he thought that this time it might bind them more closely to gether. “Waldorf,” she said, the womanly sweetness of her character banishing all hatred and illumining her face with a soul light, “love, we have burned the first notch. Did you realize what it was?” “Yes, Zonda, it was our friendship, ” he replied softly. “And the seoond notch, Waldorf—do you not remember how yon said it would be impossible to return to it, bow you hastened to leave it?” And she paused for his answer, with tears in her eyes. “Yes, darling, our first Jove.” And his hands clasped hers with a firm, strong pressure. “And the third, Waldorf—the won derful, seething, restless third?” “Yes, Zonda, the passion of the uni verse was in that third.” “And still, Waldorf, you were not satisfied. Yen left me when I was frightened at the roar of the ocean, you were not there long to support my fears, and so how would you be if I trusted you and burned the fourth notch?” To this he made no reply, but snatch ing a match from the little, gold casket that she had placed near by on a table he lit it. ‘ Come, he said firmly and gently. “Lookl” Before them splashed fountains of all colors, above them the ecstatic, harmo nious melody of a thousand Ante! ike bird notes thrilled the air again. The trees still murmured, the grasses still whis pered, the butterflies still fluttered, the flowers still bloomed with gorgeous col ors, the ground bugs still bummed, lit tle lambs gamboled around their moth ers, in the distance the roar of the ocean thundered against a beach, and near by a silvered lake glittered its lapping wa ters with a soothing sound. And above and around and tbrougb all this there came to the ears of these two the vital, subtle, vast chords of nature’s rhythmic life melody—the realization of happi ness complete, the memories of the past, the content of the present. “Are you happy?” asked Waldorf with exquisite tenderness of voice. “Ah, yes, so much so!” she respond ed. “And you, Waldorf?” “I?” he said, flinging his head back and straightening his strong, young shoulders. “I feel like a god, and yon are to be my goddess always. Is it not so, love?” “Yes,” came her soft whisper. And thus they burned the fourth notch, which proved to be the best notch of all. —Mary Rachel Gage in Boston Courier. Solving a Problem. At a technical college on the conti nent, when the students of different na tionalities had to solve a practical prob lem in the workshops, the German took out a notebook and immersed him self in long calculations. The French man walked about and indnlged from time to time in ingenions and often brilliant suggestions. The Englishman looked out of the window and whistled for awhile, then he turned round and did the problem while the others were still thinking about it.—Frowde. Reward and Punishment. , Father—Charley, if you are good to tlay, you may unpack the trunks; if yon Ire not, you’ll have to unpaok them.— r~ BECOMING INDIANS. CLAIM THAT AMERICANS ARE DEVEL OPING ON THAT LINE. Increasing Resemblance In Faces to the Aboriginal Type — A Study of Heads, With Especial Attention to the Real* dents of Pennsylvania. It is an extraordinary question in an thropological science which has been propounded popularly of late. The in fluence of environment upon the race resident in the United States must in the course of four centuries produce cer tain marked and undeniable physical results. It is not generally acknowledg ed by Americau anthropologists that there is a tendency of reversion to the type indigenous to the soil. But foreign students of race, with more perspective, have offered interesting food for reflec tion. A writer in the Chicago Times Herald, commenting on the assertion of the French authors that on this conti nent the American white man has varied toward the Indian type, offers a support ing study which is curiously fascinating —possibly vastly important. First the familiar faces of the carica turists'creau it are called in as wit nesses. The \ ankee and the southron— ! large and loose limbed—of these pictures are types, even as the stout, full faced John Bull is a type found in another environment Both American favorites of the cartoonist have high cheek bones and usually excellent straight noses. These witnesses are not, of course, scien tifically admissible. The faces given us by the caricature makers are impres sions, not tesfimonv. scientific, however, is the study of fered of the Pennsylvania Germans—a happy, thrifty, frugal people, who have been subjected to American conditions for nearly two centuries, with very lit tle intermingling with other races, much less than the English people in New England or in Virginia. It is true that the pervasive and be guiling Irish have intermarried some what with these old Pennsylvania set ters, but in the main it is a very exclu sive, pure blooded Palatinate stock. P ita have been secured relative to a large number of school children and to adult males from 25 to 50 years of age, and many copies of portraits of original settlers. It appears that stature in creases and that other important gener alizations mav be made, tentatively oi course. The Increase of finger reach is marked, and the head measures are im portant. ‘‘The anthropologist places consider able value uion certain proportions o» relations between measures,” says the student of the subject. ‘ ‘ Thus the length of the head and the breadth of the head, when compared, give numerical expres sion. which is called the cephalic index To find it the length is divided into the breadth and the result multiplied by j 100. A head one-half as wide as it is long would hare an index of 50; one three-fourths as wide as long would have an index of 75; one as wide as it j was long would have an index of 100. There is no race whose head is normally so wide as to h^ve an index of 100 or so narrow as to have one of 50. The higher the index, of course, the broader and sounder the hfad; the lower the index, j the longer and narrower the head. Ger- j mans generally are notably round head- 1 ed. Topinard gives for some people of 1 Lorraine the index of 85.3. The average i index of 100 Pennsylvania Germans is ' 81.9, which is notably less and uar- j rower. The heads of our northern and ! eastern Indians are still longer and nar rower. We cannot at present make a further comparison with profit. What we have already said may prove erro neous when w% learn the actual Palati nate type. We assume now that the Palatinate Gb-rmans were of medium stature, light haired, blue or light eyed, iuuuu uruuvii, »nu a uugtrx itroA'ix ui 1.048. We find that the Pennsylvania German children are dark in hair and eyes, that the men are probably of in creased stature, that heads appear to be lengthening, that arm reach appears to be increasing. In all these respects the Pennsylvania German varies from the assumed Palatinate type and in the di rection of the Indian. If our assumption proves valid, we may claim that onr evidence shows change, which, if con tinued, may form an Indian type from the German. ” , All this, it must be noted, is abso lutely distinct from any of the reasons for discussing the tendency of Americans to revert to original types from the in filtration of the red Indian blood itself in the veins of the white race Prom the days of the old French and Indian wars fireside tales of New England intermix ture of that sort have been common enough. A recent novel has expressed i the country knowledge in New England I that there is an occasional “streak” I from ancestry that approached New | England from the west as well as that which approached it from the east across the Atlantic. In the western states and territories the great nwriters of half breeds whose descendants find their way into the life of cities brings to tear a curious and unreckoned force in the de velopment of the fiber and sinew of the race in North America—Boston Tran script. Salt a Luxury In Africa. The greatest of all luxuries in central Africa is salt. To say that a man eats Balt with his victuals is the same as say ing that he is a rich man. Mungo Park says, “The long continued nse of vegeta ble food creates so painful a longing for salt thut no words can sufficiently de scribe it. ”—Chicago Tribune. Elizabeth Stuart Phelps relates that once, when Longfellow was visiting her at her Gloucester home, she pointed out to him the reef of Norman’s Woe and was surprised to find that, although he had wrticked the schooner Hesperus on ; it, ho had never before seen it. From Venice to Washington is a dis tance of 8,886 miles. FROST A HELPFUL AGENCY. How Gwrdener* T*k<- Adrwntnge of Win ter Freertn* to Aid Their Operations. In preparing the soil for future crops frost is called in to help iu securing fine tilth. This is done by so handling the soil, late iu the fall, that it will be most freely exposed to freezing during the winter. How this may be done in the case of flower beds and small vege » TALL TIU.IVG OF THE SOIL. table plots, that are worked with the spade, is suggested by the accompany ing sketch from American Gardening. The main idea involved is the turning over of the soil and leaving it in the roughest possible shape, just as it falls from the spade, with no breaking up. This with a view to its laying so loose that the cold can r, adiiy penetrate the mass. In the engraving a shows the soil before spading and b the same after spading. The principle on which the frost acts favorably in improving tilth is in the rupturing of the soil particles by expan sion. In the accompanying figure at c is represented a clod of earth. The irreg ular dark lines are meant to indicate the spaces between the soil particles, which, in wet soil, are filled with water. As a matter of fact these spaces are much smaller than the engraving seems to show. The action of the frost causes to expand the soil particles and the water with which the earth may be charged. The result is that the soil par ticles are broken and separated in some what the same manner as a bottle or jug in which water has frozen is broken. The further result is that in proportion as fineness of soil is more favorable to seed and plant growth, bo the more completely the soil is divided by repeat ed freezings and thawings during the time between crops the better for the coming crop. It is noted in this connection that one need not, as in spring tillage, wait ! until the soil is quite dry before spud- j ing, for it is an advantage rather than ) otherwise to work it so wet that it i leaves the spade in unbroken clods; the | more interstices in the mass after it is j thrown over the better. The difference ; in the following spring and summer be- ; tween soil that has been fall worked as 1 outlined and that which has remained j nntouched until spring, is most marked. : Beds that were thus thrown up roughly i in the fall come out the following | spring a mass of earth as fine as an ash i heap. To overlook the gain that comes j from killing the larvae of various de structive insects by turning up the soil j before winter would be a mistake. It is known by many actual tests that they die in large numbers by winter freez- J ing. -- ! Advice to the Fertilizer Farmer. There seems to be an impression that 1 high grade fertilizers aresosolnble that all one needs to do is to barrow them into a plowed field. It is a mistake to i let this idea interfere with the demand for thorough tillage. As Rural New Yorker explains, one great advantage in using manure is the fact that it ex pands and opens the soil so that water, ; sun and air may readily enter it. Its very bulk is an advantage for this rea- i son, even though this bulk bo made up of substances that contain but little j plant foci In one sense, aeration is al- I most as helpful to the soil as it is to I milk. Now, when fertilizers are used without frequent “green” or hulk ma nuring, tillage must take the place of the manure in opening up the soil for the air and sun. Instead of merely plowing and harrowing to prepare the seed bed, the fertilizer farmer should give his soil twice tbo working deemed sufficient for a manured field. Protect Ins Water Pi pen. Water pipes in use about the farm often give trouble in winter through F 1 PROTECTED AGAINST FROST. ireezing. There are situations where a device illustrated in the New York Trib une will prove efflea c i o u s in keeping a water pipe from freez ing. Whore the pipe emerges from the ground it is surrounded by two or more lengths of 8 inoh ucmu pijju, tnu jiunm oeing tightly oe mented. This give* a dead air spaoa about the pipe that is very effective in keeping out frost. If the pipe be wound with strips of felt and tarred paper be fore putting in the tiling, ho muoh the better. If tho water pipe comes up un der a building, uh a burn or stable, let the tiling come close up to the floor. Then box the whole about with boards, from the surface of the ground to the floor, and two air spaces will be secured, to the great security of the water pipe. HUMPHREYS’ No. 1 Cures Fever. No. 2 “ Worms. No. 3 “ Infants’ Diseases. No. 4 “ Diarrhea. No. 8 “ Neuralgia. No. 9 Cures Headache. No. lO “ Dyspepsia. No. 1 1 “ Delayed Periods. No. 12 “ Leuchoi’i’ea. No. 14 “ Skin Diseases. No. 13 Cures Rheumatism. No. 16 “ Malaria. No. 20 “ Whooping Cough No. 27 “ Kidney Diseases. No. 30 “ Urinary Disuses No. 77 “ Colds and Grip. Solil by Druggists, or sent prepaid on receipt of price, 25c., or 5 for $1. Dr. Humphreys' Homeopathic Manual of Diseases Mailed Free. Hnmp’irevs’ Med. Co., Ill William St., N. Y, WEST JERSEY & SEASHORE R. R. On and after Nov. loth, 1896. Trains leave BRIDGETON as follows. For Philadelphia and way stations, 6.60, S.00, 9.60 a. in., 12.00 noon, ‘2.56 and 6.00 p. m, On Sunday, 7.30 a. in., and 4.30 p. m. For Salem and Quinton Branches, via Elmer, 9.00 a. m.. 2.65 p. m , woek days. For Sea Isle City and Ocean City, 8.00 a. m., 2.55 p. m., Sundays 7.30 a. m. For Cape May, 8.00 a. m., and 2.55 p. m., Sundays 7.30 a. m. For Atlantic City, 8.00 a. m., and 2.55 p. m. On Sunday 7.30 a. m., 4.30 p. m. For Millville and way stations, 8.00 a. m., 12.00 noon, 2.56 and 5.00 p. in., week-days. Sundays 7.30 a. m., and 4.30 p. m. For Maurice River and points on the Maurice River Branch. 8.00 a. m., 12.00 (Saturdays only) and 5.00 p. m., w-eek-days. Sundays, 4.30 p. m. Returning trains leave Philadelphia for Bridge ton, 6.20, S.20 a. m., 12.00 noon, 3.30, 5.00 and 6.00 p. m. On Sundays, S.00 a. m., 5.00 p. m. CONNECTING RAILROAD. Trains leave Vineland for Millville, 7.43,9.37,9.57, a. m., 1.35, 4.33, 4.55, and 6.39 p. m. On Sun day, 9.30. 10.01, a. m., 6.27 p. m. For Cape May. leave Vineland 9.57, a. m. 4.33 and 4.55 p. m., lveek-days. Sundays, 9.30 and 10.01 a. m. Leave Broad street station, Philadelphia, FOR NEW YORK. Express week-days. 3.20, 4,05, 4.50, 5.15, 6.50. .33, S.20, 9.50 10.21 (Dining Car), 11.00, 11.14 а. m., 12.00 noon, 12.35 (Limited 1.00 and 4.22 p. m. Dining Cars), 1.40, 2.30, (Dining Car) 3.20, 3.50, 4.00, 5.00, 5.56, (Dining Car) 6.00, 6.50, S.12. 10.00 p. m., 12.01 night. Sundays, 3.20, 4.05, 4.50, 5.15, S.20, 9.50, 10.21, (Dining Car) 11.35, a. m„ 12.35, 2.30, (Dining Car). 4.00 (Limited 4.22 Dining Car), 5.20, 5.56 (Dining Car), 6.35, 6.50, S.12, 10.00 p. in., 12.01 night. Express for Boston, without change, 11.00 a. m. week-days, and 6.50 p. ni., daily. WASHINGTON AND THE SOUTH. For Baltimore and Washington, 3.50, 7.20, S.32 9.12, i0.2u, 11.23 a. m., 12.09, (12.51 Lim. Dining Car), 3.12, 3,is, 4.41, (5.19 Congressional Limited! Dining Car), 6.17, 6.55 (DiningCar), 7.40 (Dining Car) p. m., and 12.05 night, week-days. Sundays, 188.8.131.52.9.12. 11.23 a. m., 12.09, 1.12, 4.41, (5.15 Congressional Limit- d, Dining Car), 6.55 (Dining Car), 7.40. (Dining Car), p. m., and 12.05 night. Bridgeton City Office, No. 54 East Commerce St. Tickets sold to all points. Baggage checked from residence to destination. _ _ _ A. O. DAYTON, Superintendent. J. R. Wood, Gen. Pass. Agent. South Jersey Traction Company TIME TABLE, Schedule in Effect Sept. 30, 1896. BRIDGETON AND MILLVILLE LINE. „ Bravt Bridgeton,front of Hotel Cumberland at 6.00 7.00, 8.05, 8.55, 10.10, 11.00, a. m., 12.10, 1,00, 2 00 2.50, 3.50,5,05, 8.00, 7.00, 8.00, 10.00, p. m. On Sat urdays only, 9.00, 10,60 n. m. Leave Millville, from .Main St. Bridge at 6.50, 8.05, 9.05, 10.10, 11.00, a. m„ 12.10, 1.00, 2.00, 2.50, 3.50, б. 0o. 6.00, 7.00, S.00, 9.00, 10.60, p. m. On Satur days only, 10.00, 11.40, p. m. Carp, of tbe Millville Traction Company leave West Jersey and Seashore Railroad Station from a. m., to 6.00 p. ui., and connect with this Company s cars at Spruce street Junction. The running time between Bridgeton and Millville is 50 minutes and this schedule is so arranged that connection can be made with all trains on the West dl?rst.v and Seashore Railroad from Millville to Philadelphia, Vineland, Cape May, Atlantic City, Sea Isle, Ocean City ana other seashore points, and all points or, the Maurice River Branch. Baggage and express car leaves Bridgeton 8.06 a. m; and 12.10 p. m.; leaves Millville 10,10 a. m. and 2.00 p, m. daily, except Sunday. No express matter will be carried on the regular curs All shipments must be loaded and unloaded siii s“pper or con8iKnee, and charges prepaid by I&r trains on Cumber’and and Maurice River Kair<l!id; oars leave Bridgeton at 7.46 and 10.10 a. m., and 6.00 p. m. A special ear will connect with northbound p. m. train. SUNDAY SCHEDULE. Leave Bridgeton. S.30, 10.10 a. m„ 12.00, m.. 2.00, 4.00, 6.00, 7.00, 8.00, 10.00 p. m „ Millville, 9.20, 11 a. m„ 1 oo, 3.00. 6.00 7.00, S.00, 9.00, 10.50 p. m. L. H. ROBBINHON. 8npr . CENTRAL R. R. OF NEW JERSEY. NEW JERSEY SOUTHERN DIVISION. Anthractie Coal used exclusively, insuiing cleanli ness and comfort. Time Table in Effect Nov. 15, 1896. LEAVE BRIDGETON VIA. (ALL RAIL ROUTE) 7.55 a. m., 3,53 p. m„ for New York, Newark, Elizabeth, South Amboy, Red Bank, Toms River, Waretown, Barnegat, Whiting, etc. 15.27 a. m„ 6.23 p. m., for Bayside and inter mediate stations. FOR PHILADELPHIA ATLANTIC CITY, BAL TIMORE, WASHINGTON AND ALL POINTS SOUTH OR WEST. Leave Bridgeton, 7.65 a. m., 3.53 p. m. Above trains connect for all points on the Atlan tic City Railroad. RETURNING. For Bridgeton, Vineland, intermediate stations, etc. Leave New York from foot of Liberty street, via. (All Rail Route), 4.30 a. m„ and 1.45 p. m. Leave Philadelphia, Pier 8, Delaware River, 8.00 a. in., und 4.15 p. m. Leave Bayside 7.10 a. m., 8.06 p. m. CUMBERLAND A MAURICE RIVER BRANCH. Trains leave East Bridgeton for Port Norris at 4.46 Mondays only, 10.36 a. m. and 6.23 p. m, Leave Port NorriB for East Bridgeton at 7.05 a. m„ and 3.00 p. m. Through tickets to all points at lowest rateB may be had on application in advance to the ticket agent at the station. J.H. OLHAU8EN, H. P. BALDWIN, __Gen’l. Supt. Gen’l Pass. Agt. J JUKI'S t HKAM BALH la b positive core. Apply Into the nostrils. It Is quickly absorbed. 80 cents at Druggists or by mall; samples 10c. by mall. ELY BROTHERS, 68 Warren St., New York City. anil Invslid ihoutd have ItT** ..PARKER’S - <0o.MJtl.01) at DnjggUu * IT dw «w