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as usual at the next school election—
but for many candidates. They giv
a unanimous vote—every day in th«
week—in favor of
because they know it has no equal as a
labor and temper saver on wash-day.
The "White Russian" is a great soap to
use in hard or alkali water. Does not
roughen or injure the hands—is per
fectly safe to use on the finest fabrics.
JAS. S. KIRK & CO., Chicago.
Bosky Diamond Tar Soap.
handles nothing but the purest—
A full stock of PERFUMES TOI
LET ARTICLES, SOAPS. STA
TIONKRY and SCHOOL SU
PLIES constantly on hand.1
Standard PAINTS & OIL, VAR-
NISHES BRUSHES and GLASS.
For a good smoke try our leading
0. M. OLSEN.
Mardian Block New Ulm. Minn
Manufacturer of and Dealer in
New Ulm Mi
Our breweiy is, one of the I digest in
the -west. It is also splendidly equipped
and the pioducti of the finest quality.
Ask foi Jlauenstein's beer if you want "a
good-tasting healthful dunk.
BREWER AND MALSTER
NEW ULM. MINN.
Th»« brewery is one of the largest establishments
of us kind in the Minnesota Valley and i»fittedop
with all themodern improvements. Keg and bat
tle beer furaiMied to any part of the city on short
notioe. My bottle beer is tspecially adapted lo
Country brewers and others that buy malt will
hnd to their interest to place their orders with me
All orders by mail will receive my prompatten
OTTO SCHELL, Manager.
PROCTER a GAMBLE CO CINTT.
DO YOU KNOW
CS. FEUX LE BRUM'S
are the original and onl*- FRENCH, safe and re
liable core on the market. Price S1.00: sect L?
mail. Genuine sold ou.y by
O. M. Olsea Druggist, New Tim.
My ideal girl has golden hair,
A downcast glance, a modest air.
Her eyes are blue and sweet and shy
She knows no guile nor coquetry.
Her maiden heart, her soul serene,
In all her words and looks are seen.
The more I think of her, the more
All her pertections I'd adore
If for one hour I could forget
The witch who hab me in her net,
Whose dusky hair, wnose saucy smile
And gay caprice my heart beguile!
She has each fault which I abhor.
She's not the girl I'm looking for.
Alas! the more I disapprove—
The moie I frown, the more I love!
HER LOVE LETTERS.
Jeanie Campbell came back from the
tailor's shop where she worked and
found a company of boys and girls con
gregated round the doorstep of the tall
tenement house in which she rented one
small back room. They were hooting
and jeering at a man seated in his shirt
sleeves on the doorstep placidly smok
ing a huge German porcelain pipe. The
man did not seem in the least disturbed
at their jeers and shrieks, but smoked on
with his eyes fixed upon the one strip of
sunset sky visible above the grimy roofs.
Jeanie pushed her way in.
"What's the matter?"
"Yah, Dutchy! I'n't 'e a bloomin
soft? Give a boy a shillin to go and
fetch 'm somethin to eat and is w'itin
'ere for'm! I'n't 'e a style? Wonder
'ow long he'll w'itel"
"Who is he?"
"A blooming Dutchy! 'E carn't
speak no English, 'e carn't—'as to mike
signs—and nobody 'ere carn't speak
nothink else. I'n't 'e a softy?"
The girl paused and looked at the
man. There was something in his pa
tient attitude that aroused her pity.
Some softer remembrance of the days
before she came to this great, wicked
London came over her. The man's eyes,
so blue, clear and blight,and the healthy
tinge of his wholesome tace smote upon
her with a pang of recollection of the
honest Scottish faces ehe had left with
contempt for their content when she
had started forth to see life in London.
She went up to the man and signed
to him to follow her indoors. She tried
to make him understand that he had
been robbed. The soft, gentle tones
that answered her were quite unintelli
gible. He smiled, shrugged his shoul
ders, spread his hands and looked at her
with that calm trustfulness one sees iu
dogs and children.
She smiled, nodded, pointed up the
stairs and then ran out of the house.
She returned with a loaf of bread and
a half pound of sausages for him and
roll for herself. She would make that do.
He was a stranger, alone and friendless.
She put the things in his hand, point
ing downthestreetasif to indicate that
she-had brought the things from the
boy. He seemed to understand, took
her hand and raised it to his lips. The
action was so simple, so gratetul that
she felt ashamed and ran up the stairs
to her own room.
Her comfortless breakfast of a dry
roll the nest morning made her a little
regretful ot her charity the night be
fore. "He must shift tor himself, as 1
have had to do," the thought, and she
went out to her day's work.
When she returned in the evening,
she found him standing outside his
door. He bowed and smiled, opened his
door and showed' his various purchases
on his table. He had evidently found
his way round to shops. She went up
the stairs, feeling the least little bit dis
appointed that he did not require her
help any more. He seemed different
from the jaded, vulgar men and wom
en she came contact with in her city
life. The air ot the fields seemed to
cling to him still. She thought as she
toiled up the weary stairs how sweet
the country must be looking now. Was
the sun shining on the hills at home
and making the waters of the loch
sparkle, the bonny hills that she would
never see again? Friends were dead,
and to a tailoress at 12 shillings a week
it was indeed a far cry to Lock Awe.
Something was on her table, a little
sketch of a sweep of wide hills, with fir
forests clinging to their sides, a little
cluster of houses with wide overhang
ing roofs and shutters to the windows.
A figure was standing in the doorway
of one of the bouses.
"That is his house," said Jeanie to
herself. "What a funny thing to do, to
give me a picture of it! I wish I could
send him back one of Loch Awe and our
house up on the braes."
The next day was Sunday. She usu
ally passed the morning in bed, tired
out with her week's work. When she
came down about the middle of the day,
she met him coming in, evidently in his
Sunday be&t. Could he have been to
church? Well, it was clear he had not
learned the manners of Eureka court
She tried to express her thanks by
looks and smiles. He seemed to under
stand and laughed, and then she felt
with a quick touch of dismay that he
glanced surprise at her untidy dress
and tousled hair. Jeanie did not "tidy"
herself until afternoons then in an
enormous hat and feathers and much
becurled head she perambulated the ad
jacent streets in company with girls of
her acquaintance, not yet vicious, only
ignorant, vain and craving for a little
of that happiness which seems to all
girls their birthright.
That same hair was in papers now—
she blushed as she recalled the fact—
her hands were grimy, her face un
washed. His eyes noted it.
They did not meet again during the
week, but next Sunday morning found
Jeanie with her hair out of papers and
her bands washed. She was loitering at
the street corner when he came back in
his spruce clothes. She gave him a
pert nod. She felt annoyed with him
for some unknown reason and that even
ing made herself as resplendent as pos
able in her cheap, gaudy finery.
4 "He shall see that I cart be smart,
too,'' she thought, and tossed her head
as he appeared.
He stopped, and drawing a notebook
from his pocket rapidly sketched a
church front upon it. She shook her
head. He looked puzzled. Then his
quick fingers drew the outside of one of
the commonest type of meeting house.
She shook her head again and moved
off. Somehow she did not like to show
him how she spent her Sunday evenings.
The weather became very hot. Jeanie
drooped more and more in the unhealthy
workroom and stuffy streets. He seemed
to notice it, for on one Saturday night
she found a drawing of trees and a path
and figures walking about, and under
neath the figures 2:30. Could he be ask
ing her to go for a walk? She waited
in to see.
At 2:30 a knock came at hei door.
There he was, with his square, ugly,
good natured face smiling at her. She
felt awkward going down the stairs with
him. What could they do during a
whole walk if neither could speak to
But that walk did not take place.
The smart tie around her neck had been
the price of her dinner. She turned
faint and reeled, then sat down on the
stairs and burst into tears.
She hardly knew if she was vexed or
pleased to find herself picked up like a
baby and carried up to her own room
and laid upon her bed. She sat up and
drank some water, while he stood look
ing perplexedly at her, and she blushed
that he should see her untidy, disorder
In a few minutes she
He went out.
heard her door open and something
pushed along the floor. It was a little
jug of hot coffee and milk and a plate
of German rolls.
The next day another picture was
left. It represented a large workshop,
with men sitting at tables, all busily
engaged over some mechanical work.
Underneath was written the figures 30
With unskillful fingers she drew an
outline of, a coat and waistcoat and a
needle and thread and posted it at his
door as she went out, but she had to
come back again, she was so ill, and all
day she lay there alone waiting tor
what was the only friendly signal in
the world to her—the scrap of paper of
the foreign artist.
She heard it pushed under the door at
last and feebly rose and groped for it.
Her head was throbbing so that she
could scarcely see that it contained a
whole line of portraits—an elderly man
and woman and younger faces, among
which was hisown,his family doubtless.
She made a rough outline of her hat,
with a sharp oval for a face underneath.
She was too ill to get it down to him.
She pushed it out and trusted that he
would fetch it. She heard him in the
morning come up again, and then she
heard no moie, for the fever seized upon
her, and wlben next she woke to con
sciousness she was lying on a hospital
bed. For days she was too weak to
speak or think, but when she was able
one of the nurses asked her if she would
like to see some papers which had been
brought to the hospital for her, and the
nurse spread them out before her.
The first was of a man following a
stretcher through the streets, then the
same man sitting alone in a solitary
room with his bead bowed upon his hand
and weeping the next, the same man
at a door, evidently asking questions of
a porter within the next, the man was
beside a bed on which lay a deathlike
"Has he been to see me?"
"Yes it was when we thought you
were dying he came every day, but we
could not tell him anything. No one
could speak his language, but at last,
we found it was Wendisb, from the bor
ders of Saxony and Bohemia, and one
of the doctors here got him a book in it
by which he could study English. You
will see by the sketches."
The next one represented the man
with the book his hand.
The next showed the man in a train,
and then on board a steamer, and then
in another tram.
Jeanie dropped the papers.
"He is gone!" she said,with a little
weak cry. "Ch, why have I got any
"There is another picture," said the
nurse, and she unrolled it for the trem
The man had arrived at the little vil
lage Jeanie remembered in the first
sketch then the interior of a house was
shown a coffin lay in the middle of the
room an old wcinan. two girls and
three men knelt around U.
"His father is dead." eaid Jeanie.
And she turned to the next. The man
was at the hospital door.
"Oh, he is coming back!" she cried.
"See, this is the last,'' said the nurse,
and as she held it up she laughed. It
was the man on one knee before a girl
—Jeanie her outrageous hat—but
there was in a little sketch up in the
right hand corner, as if it was yet in
the distance, the same little village with
the pine forests around, the two figures
—the man and Jeanie—walking arm in
arm up the village street. The nurse
held her sides for laughing.
"It's the funniest thing lever saw in
my life!" she said.
Jeanie gathered her papers together
with some dignity.
"I don't call it funny," she said. "I
—think it was just the nicest thing
that ever was done to any girl."
"My loofe!" said a voice at her side.
And there wus the man. Jeanie gave a
"My loofe!" said the man again. "It
is my first English to you, and it will
be my last. My loofe!" And Jeanie,
with all the dreams of her girlhood back
upon her,put her arms round his neck,
and sobbing said, "And I don't even
know your name, but I don't care for
anything is the world but yon."—New
A Dear Horse. Mm
Jack—What did that horse cost yon?
Tom—It cost me all the respect I ever
entertained for the man I boughtit from.
WINTER AT THE MILL. 1
The winding lane is filled with, snow
The cold sky wears a frown
As far as hazy dreamland seems
The warm o'erflowhyj town,
And everything is white and chill,
When it is winter at the mill.
The mill wheel with, its merry whir.
In icy hands is fast
No cheery neighbor seeks the door
No traveler wanders past
The path is lost across the hill
When it is winter at the mill.
The miller reads his almanac
And wishes it were spring,
When- logs come tumbling down the
And larks and veeries sing
The whole wide world is blank and still
When it is winter at the mill.
The miller's wife, sore discontent*.
Sits by the casement low,
And knits and watches the gray smoke
From village chimneys blow.
There is no gossip, good or ill,
When it is winter at the mill.
But to the miller's little maid
Time hastes on roty wing.
The fairies she could never find
In any haunts of spring
Fill all the firelit chimney nook
Through magic of a story book.
—Susan H. Swettm. Youth's Companion.
Gilbert de Saninur had just returned
to Paris after 10 years' sojourn in Amer
ica. He had left his country ruined and
almost hopeless, a victim to his passion
for gambling. He was quite young
when he had left France, but he had
away a large fortune and so
had courageously decided to go into ex
ile and try his luck in a new way—
namely, by work! He had started away
with £20 in hispocket and had now re
turned after 10 years' slavery almost a
rich man again.
He was once more on the boulevards,
once more gazing at the brilliantly
lighted shops and at the gay crowd of
fashionable loungers who were strolling
along apparently without a care in the
world. At last, feeling a little tired, he
sat down at one of the tables outside a
cafe, idly wondering whether any of his
former friends would recognize him
Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoul
der, and turning round discovered an old
acquaintance of his.
"De Saamur, is it possible? Why,
old fellow, how many years is it since
we met, or rather since we parted?"
"Ten years, Rouval—just 10 years
since I started off with my £20 to try
my luck over the sea."
"And what sort of luck have you
had, old fellow?"
"Very fair—better than I expected.
I've come back anyhow with enough of
the 'needful' to go along all right now.
How have you been getting on all these
"Well, I've had some changes, like
every one else. I'm mairied now and
am getting on all right—at least I
should if I -could only leave the con
founded cards alone."
"Take care, Rouval. if you go in icr
that still. I ought to have been a win
ing to some of you. Why don't YOU
give that sort of thing up once auu icr
"Thafs easier said than done. VTliat
is a fellow to do at the club, and then
if once you've won from a man you
cannot Tetuse to let inmhave his chance,
and so you go on. I say, you'll come
home with me? I want to hear all
about your doings and introduce you to
"I should like to come very much"—
"Well, it's settled then. Now tell
me something about your life over yon
der. How did you ever get a start?"
"Well, I had a bad time at first, I
confess. The motto of the country there
is 'Every man for himself.' If one can
not hold one's own in the fierce compe
tition that is waged, tnen there is noth
ing to do but give in and disappear. On
fiie contrary, if you've got some grip in
you and can hold on and iiave got just
enough money in your pocket to keep
you from starving till you get your foot
an the ladder, why, there's a chance for
'I stood off at nothing, .as 1 did not
know a soul in the whole country. As
I knew a good deal about horses, I of
fered my services as coachman to a
Hew York physician and had the honor
of -driving him about all day to visit
"De Saumur, is it possible?"
"It was, Rouval that was precisely
"how I commenced. When I had got
used to the life over there and saw bow
things went, I ventured on at&er things,
and I certainly had good luck, for ev
erything I tonched succeeded. As soon
as I had scraped a little money together
I put it into some shares in a railway
company, and so I went on until I had
made what I considered enough to come
"It's been pisetty rough on you, Gil
"It has, and I don't mind owning it
now. The hardest thing of all was to
keep myself from gambling away the
money as I made it. It was easy enough
to rough it as regards other things, both
luxuries and the necessities of life, but
it was confoundedly bard to ke»p away
from the gaming tables, which exist
there just as much as here. Thank
heaven,J did resist though,or Ishouldn't
be here now."
"Ah,'my dear fellow, you won't be
long here in Paris before you'll give in
to your old habits. What can a man do
at the club? But come along. We must
start now. I want to introduce you to
The two men got up and sauntered
along the boulevards to the Avenue de
POpera, where Jacques Rouval lived.
After dinner Rouval took bis new
found friend into his smoking den,
there to indulge in a cigar. ^&M
**D© yoTtcare to have a*1ooj£ inat
theclnb?" he asked him a little later on.
"Ho, I don't think I do this evening.
Yon know, it is not cheerful atter 10
years' absence to return to old haunts
which are filled with strangers and to
find all those one knows are noJnnger
there) and after the long list yon told
-me about at dinnertime it seems to me
there is scarcely any one I know left."
Rouval waa not very delighted at this
decision. He was in the habit of going
to the club every evening and spending
some hours at the card tables, and it
had become so fixed a habit with him
that he felt restless and dissatisfied any
I where else. He would like to ask De
Saumur to take a hand with him, but
I under the circumstances he scarcely
dared to. He kept casting furtive
glances at the little table iu the corner
of the room, and at length De Saumur,
who had noticed hisfriend's uneasiness
and who from experience guessed the
cause, suggested himself "that they
should just have a round or two at cards
to see how much he had forgotten in 10
"But I thoaght you had quite given
up playing for ever and ever?" objected
"Yes, as a regular habit I have, but
it is quite another thing to have a game
quietly here like this."
Rouval was only too delighted and
pulled the card table out with alacrity.
I De Saumur played at first carelessly,
He had only proposed it out of con
sideration to his friend, and he felt
rather bored. Rouval kept winning and
appeared so contented with himself and
had such a triumphant manner that De
Saumur found himself getting interest
ed and excited in spite of himself. The
more he lost the more persistent he be
came. It was as though the old passion
of former days which for 10 years had
been kept in contiol by his strong will
had completely got the mastery of him.
At first the stakes had been insignificant,
but as he continued to lose he became
more and more desperate, until at last
the amount was getting so serious that
Rouval did not wish to continue.
"But as I have been the loser so far,"
said De Saumur, "you caunot refuse to
go on surely!"
"It is not for my own sake, but I
don't like it. Gilbert. You are here at
my house, and you are playing desper
Well, that's my own lookout. It's
your turn to cut."
Day was beginning to break, and the
two men were still seated at the card
table. They had played all night, and
now their eyes were fiery with excite
ment, and their hands trembled as they
handled the cards.
At last Gilbert de Saumur exclaimed,
"There, I cannot go on any more!"
Rouval looked at him anxiously,
thinking that he was ill, but he contin
"No, I've come to an end, that's all.
I cannot go on, because you have won
nearly every cent I possess. I'll give
you a check on my banker for it, and
that settles it."
A dead silence followed these words.
What was to be done? The play had
been strictly fair, and Rouval had won
"My dear fellow," said Rouval as De
S-sumur finished writing out "ek,
"J. cannot take it all. Kt^L,~„.
"I have £40 left," replied De Sau
mur coldly. "That will be enough to
get back where I came from. Work is
better for me than fortune. I nave
proved that twice. I thought now I was
cured, but it appears I was mistaken. 1
suppose now I shall never see Paris
again. Goodby, Rouval."
And he got up, and opening the door
took bis hat from the peg in the hall
and went down stairs, followed by Rou
val, who accompanied him to the hall
door, and who, when he had closed it
after his friend, went back to his smok
ing den and paced up and down the
room until it was broad daylight.
"Very odd," was the verdict at the
club the next evening. "Not quite the
thing to take everything the poor fel
low nad worked 10 years for and so send
him back to perpetual exile."—Million.
It is quite an interesting thing to
learn that some "of our best knowns
proverbs and mottoes were originally
used in connection with sundials. Be
fore the days of watches and clocks,
when dials and sun marks were among
the rude means of reckoning time, it
was a prevailing custom to inscribe
Among the maxims traceable to this
source are, "Make hay while the sun
ehines," "The longest day must end"
and "All things do wax and wane."
Sundials spoke the truth, as may be
inferred from a historic one which was
placed on St. Paul's cross, in London,
and which proclaimed, "I number none
but sunny hours." This no one will
doubt who has had occasion to consult
a dial on an overcast day.
A famous dial in Sussex, England,
bore four famous mottoes applicable to
the flight of time and the brevity of
life. They were as follows: "After
darkness, light." "Alas! how swift!"
"I warn whilst I move" and "So passes
Another old sundial spoke petulant
ly about the same subject in the words,
"Sirrah, be gone about your business."
—New York Herald.
Judge—What, you pleadextenuating
circumstances? Why, your crime was
simply terrible! After robbing the
poor family of what little money they
had managed to accumulate by almost
starving themselves,you murdered them
all—father, mother and eight children,
pouring kerosene on them and setting
them on fire. Then you burned their
house and killed eight of the officers
who tried to arrest you.' And what,
may I ask, then, are your extenuating
Prisoner—Your honor, it waa my
first offense of the kind!—Boston Trav-
The Difference. %lf
The Impecunious—It is just as easy
to love a girL|p|th money as to love one
The Heiress—Bat it
LESSEIS MM-fflSIMES SAFETY
to UFE of MOTHER and CHILD.
My wife, after havingused Mother's
Friend, passedthroughthe ordealwith
little pain, was stronger in one hour
than in a week after the birth of her
former child. J. J. MCGOLDRIOK,
Beans Sta., Tenn.
Mother's Friend robbed pain of its terror
and shortened labor. 1 have the healthiest
child I ever saw.
Mas. L. M. ABEBX Cochran, 6a
Sent by express, chargesprepaid, on receipt
of price, $1^0 per bottle. Book "To Mothers'*
_, BRMDFIELO REQULATOH CO..
or Sale by all Druggists. ATLASXA,GA, $
Win. Frank. John Bcnizin.
Custom grinding solicited. Will grind ?h
wheat for it (one eigth) or exchange 34 ',-f
lbs. flour, 5 lbs shorts and 5 Jbs. bran
for ene bushel of wheat. Flou and feed
s«ld at low prices and delivered at New,
Ulm free of expense.
E A E
LATHS, SB1NGLES, DOORS
-And all kinds »f-
Laths,Shingles,Deers, Sash and
Bliads, Line, Adament and
ft 0 L»west Trices always. 0 0
New Ulm, inu.
OPP. POST OFFICE—XKW ULM, Mists,
I S jp dDeilei? |gr©p«
This boas( .sthe most centrally located
hotel the city affords.
G«ed Sample Rooms.
WENZEL SCUOTZKO, Pioprietor^
-jinn. £ti. Kcw Llm icn. $
The only first class brick fire-proof
Hotel in the city. **-$
I will serve a hot and cold lunch ever,
morning, and at the same time the fines!
line wines, liquors and cigars will al
ways be found on hand. I *ill endeav
or to accommodate everybody to tn£|
best of satisfaction, hoping to always ex
tend and impiove the place.
Real Estate and Insurance Agent.
Fire, Tornadoes, Hail, Life, Acciden^
Plate Glass and Live Stock Insura
placed in reliable companies. Jf
Real Estate bought and sold. Lol
negotiated on farm property* Passi
tickets sold on best steamship lines t&jt
and from Europe.
Documents of all kinds executl
,»„* [TBABE tUBX
MMMHani ram ABOTO
isn't so easy to
1 W ta SO »ATSL
aerrou» Diseases, Vailing Mi
raresis. Steepteasnem, Nightly
Store. NEW ULM, -a?-*
MIKN. «a otte