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HIS HE VOTJOJSS.
[From Our Continent.]
The organ ptaia. the choir is singing;
I wonder if she knows I'm here V
Her thoughts, no doubt, are upward winging,
While mine 6ink, clogged with doubt and
fear.
*Tis die, of course; there's no mistaking
Her crowded, glossy braids of brown,
And that's the bonnet she was making;
I sat and watched her the crown.
How deft her fingers are, how busy!
Ah! happy man within whose home—
But, stay! such thoughts they make me dizzy,
And have no place beneath tlfis dome.
Far better should I ponder grimly
My faults committed, duties missed.
How neat her glove is, and how trimly
It buttons rouftd her slender wrist!
Ah ! vain and poor is earthly pleasure;
No wonder that our sad hearts yearn
To high and lasting treasure—-
They’re sitting down; perhaps she’ll turn—
Thank Heaven, she sees me! She is flinging
A sweet reproachful glance my way.
Yes, dear, indeed I have been singing,
And now, my saint, I mean to pray.
M. Bridges.
OYER THE SEA FOR PATSY.
A STORY OF IRISH LIFE. -
There was a young man living on the
Bath Estate named Patrick McDennot,
or “Patsy,” as he was generally called iu
the country. He was an idle, rollick
ing, pleasant fellow, remarkably good
looking, and a general favorite amongst
the girls. His parents until their death
had held a small plot of ground, and a
house or cabin attached; but not having
been of an industrious disposition, they
sank at once—as did thousands of others
—when “the hungry year” came upon
them. When a turn demand was made,
and a clear understanding come to, that
the rent must be paid or the land sur
rendered. poor Patsy “lost his presenco
of mind,” as he expressed it, and frankly
confessed he did not know what to do.
“Well, McDermot," said I, as he ap
peared one day in reply to a summons
from my office, “what are you going to
do ? Yon owe four years’ rent. Are yon
going to settle the amount ?”
“Couldn't your honor call me
* Patsy?’ ” replied he, evading my ques
tion with adroitness; “it’s a kindly sort
of name the neijpibors has for me, and
I’d know far better how to spake to your
honor if you was to use it yourself. ”
“ I have no objection,” I answered,
“ and shall be happy to call you Patsy
in future; but that does not affect my
question, and I must know at once what
your intentions are, as I cannot allow
you to remain in possession of your land
unless you come to some settlement
about your rent.’*,
“Well, well, now,” observed Patsy,
scratching his head in a puzzled manner.
“ I have no money to ‘ pay up,’ as you
call it, and as I don’t want to put your
honor to anj' trouble, I suppose I must
only cross the says like the rest of them,
and seek my fortune in America. And
yet,” lie continued, 'in an altered tone,
“ I think there is one girl, and only one,
who would fret in earnest after me. But
it can’t be helped, she must put up with
some other boy, for I’m not able to pay
nor stay; and I’d never ax her to bear
the hardship of coming out with me even
if she were willin' to do it—which in
troth I doubt she would ho; for the
girls likes them best as can always sail
with a fair wind—why wouldn’t they,
poor things ? So when wall your honor
send me out ? I have no money to pay
for my passage, nor to buy a ha'portli
for the journey ; so I will give you up
my little place freely, and I only hope
your honor will act by mo like a gentle
man, as no doubt you always wor.”
I told him that Lord Bath always
wished those who emigrated from lii3es
tate to go out comfortably, and that I
would provide for him as well as I could;
that he should have a free passage to any
port in America he pleased, a resectable
outfit, and a sovereign in his linn and on
landing.
“Well, your honor,” observed Patsy,
on learning what could be dono for him,
“it’s nil very fair, and as much ns I could
expect; anil the world will go harder
with me than ever it’s done yet, if I don’t
knock as good a living out o’f them chaps
hi America as ever I did in ould Ireland;
so 1 will give you up my little place
whenever your honor wishes it, and—
what is better—l’ll give you my blessing
along with it. You may put me dowu
for Boston.”
About three or four days after my in
terview w ith Patsy, a young woman came
into my office; and asking if she could
see me alone, she addressed me in a quick
and abrupt manner. ,
“tins Patsv McDermot got a ticket ?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I an
swered.
“-Has your honor given Patsy McDer
mot a ticket for America ?” asked the
girl.
“I never give tickets,” said I; “but
McDermot lias expressed his intention
to emigrate, and I have entered his name
on the list. He is to have a free passage
to Boston whenever he chooses to go.”
“To Boston !” exclaimed the girl; “to
Boston ! and why to Boston T*
“I don’t know,” replied I. “I gave
him his choice of any port he wished to
select, and I think he named Boston as
the one; but I would as soon send him
anywhere else. I suppose you are his
sister from your likeness to him?”
“It would he better for both of us may
be if I was,” observed the girl, “but I’m
not, though the neighbors often said we
was like.”
• When first the girl came into the room
she bad kept her face partly concealed,
by pressing her shawl up to'her month;
but in her anxiety to obtain information
concerning Patsy she had gradually
lowered her hand, so that her full features
were now before me. She was a pure
Celt, both in her appearance and man
ner. Her lniir was black as jet, her eyes
dark and flashing, and as rapid as lig'ht
ning in motion.
It struck me at once, from the exces
sive anxiety of the young woman to ob
tain information concerning Patsy, that
as she was not his sister, she was prob
ably the girl to whom he had alluded as
the “only one who would fret in earnest
for him.” So without appearing to take
any peculiar interest in the case, I merely
asked her name.
“Catherine Farnan,” answered the girl;
“why does your honor want to know it?”
“Yon told me,” I replied, “that you
were not Patsy McDermot’s sister, and I
■wanted merely to inquire why yon are
specially interested in ascertaining what
port he goes to. If yon have any good
reason for wishing to'know this,* and if
Patsy won’t tell you himself, come to me,
and I will tell you where and when hjt
goes.”
“Your honor caiied him 'Patsy, ’A
served the girl; “did you ever kt
before now ?" j^k
“No,” replied I; “that is, if
him to my knowlt-rlgi
lore me the other day
,*.n Lrincjiß
ment, as he owed four years’ rent, and I
could not get him to pay anything; but J
hear he is always Patsy in the country,
because he is such a favorite, and espe
cially amongst th&girls.
Her countenance changed a little as I
said this; but she was sSent for a few
moments. She then said firmly, but
with a strange, suppressed energy—
“He might have a nice place, and
plenty in it of the best as king as he
lived, if he would only once spake the
word; but he didn’t spake it yet, and
now I suppose he never will. Well, let
him go; I’d die sooner than I’d tell
him !”
Passion was in her countenance and
resolution in her maimer as she said
this; and, without another word, or even
a motion of farewell to me, she suddenly
left the room.
I could not but see exactly how mat
ters stood; but I did not know how to
remedy the case unless by reveaiir.g the
young lady’s feelings to the object of her
affections. I resolved, on my next inter
view with Patsy, to try if I could give
him a hint as to how matters really were.
I made inquiries, accordingly, about the
girl, and found that her father was owner
of some eight or nine acres of land, on
which he had a comfortable house; that
he was comparatively rich, and had saved
some money, and was. on the whole, well
to-do in the world. He had only one child,
Catherine. Her mother had died soon
after her birth, and he, having been
much attached to his wife, had never
married again. Catherine, accordingly,
was solo mistress of the establishment.
Her father dearly loved her, anb in some
respects she was a spoilt child. But she
also dearly loved her father; and though
wayward and quick-tempered toward
others, she was always kind and gentle
toward him. She felt he lmd no female
companion but herself; and that perhaps
it was partly for her sake in after lif_—-
wlien his grief for his wife hail worn off
—he had not married anqther, lest he
should bring in one who must necessarily
be put over her in the house. Accordingly,
with the quick wit of her race—mainly
on her father’s account, and in repay
ment of his self-denial, and partly on her
own account, lest he should become lone
some and supersede her—she did her ut
most to render her father happy; and
when this is truly done toward man,
what woman can ever fail ?
But Catherine soon began to have other
objects, hopes, and aspirations besides
those of attending on her father. She
never neglected him or his household for
a moment, awl the latter was well-know u
as a model of neatness, comfort and thrift;
but, as she grew up to womanhood, and
her lk'ftuty and engaging qualities be
came developed, she naturally attracted
many suitors amongst the young men of
the district. She was considered in the
country as an heiress of some wealth;
and happy would the “boy” bo con
sidered who could secure her affections
and her farm.
Amongst the wanderers after Catherine,
Patsy used sometimes to come. But hi?
did not care to lie so often with her ns
others. The fact was, Patsy was not a
marrying man. He found his course of
life so pleasant as a bachelor, that he
had just then no inclination to change
it. lie was known to have a “nice
little place of his own,” and Patsy pru
dently kept his own counsel about not
having paid any rent, and the conse
quent accumulation of arrears. Ho was
handsome, and always pleasant; and liko
many a bachelor in high life, under not
very dissimilar financial circumstances,
he was a capital diner-out in liis own
mine humble way; and lie lived most
jojfously on the fruits of his good looks.
Under these peculiar circumstances, and
fi >r private reasons besides, which Patsy
did not choose to disclose, he had no de
sire whatever to lay siege to tbo affec
tions of the heiress, but contented him
self with such a modest amount of atten
tion as would secure him a welcome when
ever any amusement was on footatCath
eriue’s hospitable home.
But it sometimes happens that those
who show least attention to an heiress
attract her particular attention; and
Catherine, being naturally of a quick and
jealous nature, became quite annoyed at
the easy way in which the chief beau
amongst the young men of the country
treated her. She set herself accordingly
to win him. In undertaking a task of
the kind—which in the first instance was
done purely from pique—she soon be
came interested beyond what she had
origiually intended; and observing the
better manner, qiilet deportment, and
admitted good looks of Patsy McDermot,
she was unintentionally caught by the
very man whom she had intended to
capture. Patsy saw all this, and knew
it quite ns well, or far better, than she
did. With all his apparently careless
habits, he was a shrewd and thoughtful
fellow ; and, ill truth, he was rather
afraid that Catherine would he too many
for him if he were bound to her in mat
rimonial links. He admitted the beauty
and attractions both of her persou and
her place; but her temper was high,
and her wit quick, so that—as Patsy ac
knowledgedlie would bo afeared of
liis life to ve.; her.” And accordingly,
though he perfectly saw, from her man
ner toward him, how matters really
stood, yet he kept a respectful distance
—always going there accompanied by
others, and taking care to avoid any
thing which could lead to a disclosure of
her feelings.
Affairs were in this state when my in
terview with Patsy occurred; and, if the
truth must be told, I believe his readi
ness to give up his place and emigrate
was accelerated by an undefined feeling
which came over him occasionally, that,
if he stayed long in the country he would!
have to marry Catherine whether^®
liked it or not; as every one toldg
she was* such a self-willed gutf
“ Faix she’d marry any man
and do what bhe liked with
ward !”
Under these discouragj
stances, Patsy thought jm
ltetter part of valor,
means unwilling to
ity now afforded him
For about a
appearance and abrfl
office, I neither savd
of either party ; InJ
period Patsy carnfl
lie was
“ Where to
going to Bosjfl . .
fore H
“ Whisht,
replied Pahj
low kev; ‘‘m
it’s to
me. I
sit. JBS
i i
ii.i
--l HUj ;
take him; and if you got anything of a
fortune it would be easy to clear off the
debt upon the little place, and you
might liv3 well enough in the old coun
try yet.”
Patsy watched me attentively all the
while I was Bpeaking, and at last he said,
with a elv look, but without moving a
muscle of his face—
I heard tell she was with your honor
since I saw you.”
“ I could hardly keep my countenance,
as I felt that I was found out. I kept
it, however, and replied
“You heard who was with me?”
“ It’s your honor's self that knows
well what I meau,” said Patsy; “ for all
you look so grave, as if you was going to
a burying; but in troth it’s no go this
time neither. I’ll tell your honor a se
cret—whisper I”—and he put his hand
to the side of his mouth, ns if to prevent
some imaginary person from hearing the
announcement of liis solemn but secret
conviction—“whisper! your honor, I’m
ashamed to confess it to any one b’it
yourself, but by this and by that, I’m
afenred of her 1”
I could not help laughing outright ns
he committed this awful secret to my
keeping.
“■Well, perhaps you are right; away
with you to New York, or wherever you
please, and no one shall know yonr des
tination from me until you are gone six
months at all events. After that you
must look out for yourself.”
“ All right, your honor,” replied Patsy,
apparently much relieved; “only give
me six mouths’ start of her ; and if she
ever ketches me after, it’s not yourself
I’ll blame.”
Patsy left accordingly with an ordei
for New York, telling every one, ns ho
did so, that Boston was liis destination,
as he had often heard his mother say
that a sister’s husband lived there, and
“got mighty rich by keeping a grand
hotel, where he hoped to have free quar
ters for the remainder of liis life, anil die
there eatin’ and driukin’, and no one to
hinder him.”
About a year after the occurrence I
have related, and long after Patsy and
his affairs had completely escaped my
memory, a young woman presented her
self in my office. Her dress was unusu
ally good, for one evidently of the peas
ant class; her countenance was intelli
gent, and her manner and appearance
far beyond the ordinary type. 1 thought
I recognized her features ; but I had
been in communication with so many
thousands of people since I had seen
her, that I could not remember who she
was. She addressed me in a quiet man
ner :
“Perhaps you don’t remember me,
sir ?”
“I am ashamed to say I do not,” re
plied I; ‘‘l know I have seen your face
before, but I don’t recollect where, or
under what circumstances.”
“Do you remember Catherine Far
nnn ?”
Tire whole affair between Patsy and
'her rushed back upon my memory in a
moment, and I exclaimed, rather sud
denly—
“ Oh ! yes, I know all about you now.
Is there anything I cau do for you ?”
“ And what do you know about me?”
asked the girl, raising her handsome and
Hashing eyes, and looking mo straight
in the face.
It was my turn now to look a little
confused; however, I merely said—
“ Are not you the young woman that I
mistook for Patsy McDcrmot’s sister,
when you asked me where he was going,
and were surprised when I told you it
was to Boston ?”
“ I see you remember me,” observed
the girl, quietly, her suspicions being
calmed by my reply. “But did he go
to Boston 9”
“ Ho did not.”
“ Where did he go?”
“ He went to New York,” I answered,
feeling now fully absolved from my
promise of six months’ secrecy to Patsy,
“I thought, so," she observed, in a
reflective tone; and she was silent for a
few moments; she then said, calmly—
“ J buried father last week.”
“Indeed! I did not know he was
dead. I suppose, then, you have come
to consult mo as to what you had best
do about the farm. May I ask have
you been married siuce I saw you ?”
“No,” replied the girl, “ Nor I won’t
Starry in this country. I have made up
my mind to sell all i lntvo here —for all
father had lie left to me—and I’ll go out
jo New York at once.”
“ New Volk I” I exclaimed; “ why to
New York ? You don’t mean—”
“ I do mean,” sai l the girl, interrupt
ing me, “ though your honordid not let on
about it even to my self—and I am obliged
to you for that same; yet sure enough
you know all about it just as well as I
do. Whether Patsy ever cared for me
or not I don’t know; but this I know—
T never cared for any one but Patsy. I’m
determined to see him in Now York, for
I hear from others as well as from your
self that he is there. I am not going
out poor, for father had a bag of gold
sovereigns that he kept secret, always
expecting that ‘ the big war ’ would come
on, and then he’d have some money to
leave the country. I have two hundred*
gold sovereigns with me now, and
of goods besides at home, wliichjfl
sell. So, as I said, I won't
If Patsy is married
then I ran set
iu\ if, or p-ihauSp
c entry n-'nin^a
' 1 vvifki
t.o' - . •
upon going,” I remarked to him when
we were alone.
‘ ‘Sheis, sir. She has had her mind made
np to it this long time, and nothing but
unwillingness to leave the old man kept
her here until now.”
“Did her father know of her regard
for Patsy ?” I inquired.
“He knew it well,” replied her uncle;
“and good cause he had too, ns it was
that broke him down in the end, though
Katty did her best to satisfy him. He
was always bemoaning the fancy she
took for ‘that idle spalpeen,’ as he used
to call Patsy, and wanting her to marry
some of the quiet dacent boys in the
neighborhood.”
“I am glad lie gave his daughter liis
blessing before he died. And so now
she is off to America to seek Patsy
McDermot, that has taken so strong a
hold upon her, though he hardly knew
it himself.”
“Just that, sir,” replied the uncle.
“I did my best with her, but it was all
to no use. I even told her at the wake
that may be her father wouldn’t stay
’asy in his grave if she left the old coun
try. But it was all no use—she would
go. She said she had his blessiu’, and
he was sure to lie ’asy enough. Sho bid
me r.ot sell the little plaeo till slic’d
write herself from America; ns may be,
if she failed to ketch Patsy, she’d liko to
come back and die here. So I hope
yonr honor will let the little farm rest
awhile in my name, and I’ll pay the rent
regular, and be a good tenant as ever her
father was before.” .
“Well, let it be so,” said if “The
case is a singular one, anil-1 would not
wish to put it out of her power to come
bnck and live and die here, if her mission
to America should turn out a failure.”
“God bless you, sir,” replied he; “if
anything would keep the old man ’asy it
would be that. I don’t think he’ll ever
walk when he hears that the little place
isn’t sold to a stranger.”
Catherine Faman left Ireland soon
after the above conversation, and she
liasnever since returned. I heard that
site did “koteli” Patsy in New York.
He was still a bachelor, and living the
same, pleasant idle life that he loved to
pass in Ireland. Patsy, as might have
been expected, succumbed to his inevita
ble fate soon after the arrival of Cather
ine. And though some of his former
boon companions whispered that “he
was afeard of her” still, yet she wielded
her power well, and with a firm and
steady eye to the benefit of her hand
some, though somewhat frolicsome bus
band.
Her uncle announced to mo with a
triumphant smile, the “slie did ketch
him in the end sure enough.” And
doubtless—to use her own expression—
“slio gavo it to him well.” She gave
him all sho had to give; her “two hun
dred goolil guineas,” her handsome per
son, and her sweetest smile, and, above
all, tbo true, chaste, unbounded love of
a warm and faithful Irish heart. Patsy
still lives, a happy monument of what a
spirited Irish girl can do when sho sets
herself in earnest about it.
Germans Who Dream of America.
I was sitting in a lecture room not
long ago, listening to a profound Ger
man professor, says a newspaper corre
spondent, when my eye fell upon two
words out in bold characters into the top
of the table before mo. They wero
“Auswandern” (emigrate) and “Gret
chen.” A careful ptueogrnphicn] exami
nation revealed the fact that they were
made by one and the same band. Tho
conclusion is inevitable. Hero was some
young German philosopher, equipped
with a vast store of knowledge and with
a fair Gretchen, who was .pianping to
become a paterfamilias, huvjrwlio saw ob
stacles iu tho way which could only lie
set aside by the “Ausuandeni,” that is
to say, by marrying bis Gretchen and
starling off at once to America with her.
Be this particular deduction as it may,
the fact is that many of them feel that
way. Many a German student about to
finish liis university course,jor already iu
possession of a doctor's degree, lias wist
fully asked me what tho (prospects in
America wore for a young ifan of learn
ing; and many have assured me that
they would not hesitate t moment if
they were only sure of a tolerable posi
tion on the other side of thekvater. Tho
current of emigration setting toward our
shores, though already strong enough to
alarm the O rman authorities, would
surely be much stronger if the poorer
people, only had enough money to carry
them across the ocean. The truth is
that the number of Germans who are
dreaming of America as of a land of
promise is legion. This is plain to any
one who lias taken the trouble to discuss
the matter with the ordinary peasant and.
laboring man.
Small Arms Vsu
With the
for war it is
change in
ini|Mii^4fl
Sham Butter and Cheese.
Professor Sheldon, in the lowa Home
stead, says : Can anyone tell what dairy
ing is drifting to ? We hear of all sorts
of queer monstrosities, from lard-cheese
to cotton butter. No man knows what
he eats if he buys it. Simulation is the
spirit x>f the age, and no end of science
and skill is employed to deceive. A
clever imitation is wliat men prefer to
produce, and the public arc led to de
vour. The simplicity of genuineness is
out of the running, as things go in the
world. The public must cat what is
given them, asking no questions.
The oleomargarine men have done a ter
liblejot of mischief, and offal is the god
whom they delight to honor and exalt.
At all points they aim to circumvent the
dairymen and swindle the public.
The taste of the people is degraded
by the sliam butter and cheese which
seems to be real. Men’s stomacli3 now
adays are sepulchres for strange abomi
nations which they ignorantly rather
than innocently swallow. This sort of
thing is leading them they know not
whither, and posterity will nay the
piper. It is no longer that which
cometh out of, but that which goetli
into the month that defiles. Meats and
drinks of many kinds are not wliat they
pretend to be, and there is a good deal
of “tricks that are dark” in what pusses
for dairy goods.
Whose fault is this ? Well, iu a great
part the dairyman’s, for they liavo
spoiled good milk. They have given an
opening for the shoddy men of the dairy,
who are growing rich out of offal. The
law complacently lets men sell what
they like, and the sham is, often enough,
better than the real one. Shoddy sells
well enough to be carefully made, and
so the makers of counterfeit butter and
cheese do flourish. Dairymen who make
inferior butter and cheese, no matter
how real the goods may be, are out of
the running entirely. If only the palate
of the public is suited, it matters not if
the article be real or pretended, so care
less dairymen can hardly “make ends
meet and tie.” But one tiling is clear—
the makers of really first-class cheese
and butter can hold then - own, and will
hold their own against the nefarious
is made in any and every coun
try. A weeding-out process is going on,
and goods which are mere simulations
will take the place so long occupied by
the products of milk that was spoiled.
If, then, the oleomargarine business, the
melted tallow and other less creditable
things, shall result in bringing about a
thorough reform in dairy methods, we
shall have reason after all to be grateful
to men for whom few of us entertain
feelings that approach to respect or
affection. But let the public have fair
protection, lot them know wliat they
buy; then the dairymen will win—if
they wont to,; and if they don’t the fault
is their own.
Russian Courage.
I should rather incline to think that
iuere_ courage is mpre general among
Russians than among any other people
nowadays. I mean the unreasoning,
irresponsible readiness of a dog to risk
life and liberty upon provocation. Not
more volunteers msh out, when a
desperate enterprise is mooted, than
from our own ranks; more than all is a
mathematical absurdity. But the
Englishman stakes his life in another, a
grander spirit. He feels, and reckona
with tho periL Before meeting it, so far
as I have seen examples, he is quiet,
thoughtful, contemplating tho worst, and
malting his aiTangements. A Russian
scorns all that, does not even think of it.
After assuring himself, rather roughly,
that the needful dispositions liavo been
made, ho becomes the lightest-hearted
of the company to which he hastens. I
do not say affects to become, for it may
well ho that deadly danger stirs him to
mirth, as it stirs another man, equally;
brave, to self-cornmnne. I cannot forget
an instance on Radisovo Hill .the morn
ing of tlio great An infantry
regiment stood at ease in tho rain, wait
ing the order to descend into that valley
blind with smoke, echoing with thud of
guns and angry crackle of musketry.
The Colonel and a staff Captain ap
proached and asked us to accept chargo
of letters for their wives, to be forwarded
in caae of accident. Then they
chatting of London and
the warmth of men whose J*|
linre, though (hi battL^^
and a hall now and tjja
above our heads.
story of a sc;ind9|
and llr <>' shAfl
■ t: • . jg||
u^JMk
•T Twenty-four HoonJU^lrTr"
From John Kobo. Latajette, lad.. vkoaDoouu
ce that ha la now la ■■ perfect health.’' n have
the toUowtn?: One year aeo I was, to all appear
ance, in the laet stages of Consnmption. Oar beit
physician, area my caae np. I finally got to lor
that our coctor said I could not lire twenty-four
hours. Uy friends then purchased a bottle of Or
Wm. Hall’s Balaam for the Lungs, which consider
ably benefited me. I continued until 1 tootniu
bottles. lam nor in perfect health, having nail
co other medicine."
Henry’s Carbolic Salve.
It is the Beat Halve for Cute, Bruise", Borer, Ul
cerr, Belt Rheum, Tetter. Chapped Hand*, Chil
blains, Coma, and all kinds of Bkin Eruption.
Freckles and i'implea.
Fob dyspepsia, indigestion, depression of
spirits and general debility, in their various
forms ; also as a preventative against fever
and ague and other intermittent fevers, the
" Ferro-Phosphorated Elixir of Calisaya,”
made by Caswell, Hazard A Cos., New York,
and sola by all Druggists, is the best tonic;
and for patients reoovenng from fever or
ether skekaess, it has so equal.
ORRSONAL.—I WANT A WIFE; am a widower or S\
JL :tr;ctly tcmp**rat*: nt children; accumulated nvei
4 50,(••>< in the last ten yaars, but am lonely, ; n 1 want a
Pr.testantwrife. A in;:i ion lady under 25 or widow undei
‘i is preferred. To prevent offers on account of my nu-naj
l will say that I want a 1 tdy who :s worth abt u’
I am lie iiiK m good faith, and will pay s!uo cash to tho
1 erson who uenas mo tho address of a Hdv wh -:n I can be
•• mo acquainted with and mnrry. Sena photo, and tie
; nbc her disposition as near as yon crin. Photo, returned
frequented. S. F.1.1G, Capitol llill, Washington, D.C.
No (iotips, No Elnnncrg— A Summer Idyl.”
From a Providence Merchant.
Mr. GkorobH. Davis, a fruit dealer at 207 West
minster street, bears his grateful testimony to tho
uncqualcd excellence of tho production of one oi
our mast skillful Providence Pharmacists. Mr*
Davis says: “ Dost spring I was very greatly trou
bled with severe inflammation of the kidneys, and
it became so bad that at times 1 urinated blood, and
my sufferings wero intense. My condition was so
gainful that for a while I was scarcely able to attend
to business, and the severe pains would come so
suddenly and severely that I would be obliged to
loavo a customer whom I might happ(?n to he wait
ing upon* During a part of the time I was unable
to walk, and scarcely knew what to do or which way
to look for relief. At this time a friend recom
mended Hunt’s Remedy. I took two bottles of it
and it took right hold of my disease and cured me
very seedily, and I have experienced no trouble
with my kidneys since.
“Furthermore, Hunt’s Remedy has strengthened
me very much, and since I began to use it I have
been able to attend to business, and am all right
now. I heartily recommend it to all. What it haa
dono for me it will do for you who are afflicted.”
Suffered for Twenty Years.
“ llon. Joshua Toth ill, of East Saginaw, Mich.,
says: " Count me among tho enthusiastic friends
of lluni’s Remedy. It has proven iu my case all
you claim for it. Having suffered for about twenty
years with severe disease of the kidneys (which oui
local physician pronounced Bright’s Disease), I
made a journey East to consult the emiuont Dr #
Haven, of Hamilton, New York, of whose famo in
this Hj>ceiaUy 1 had hoard much. Dr Haven exam*
ined me carefully and simply said: ‘Go mul get
a bottle of limit’s Remedy and take according to di
rections.’ Alter having traveled so far for treat
ment. it struck me as rather funny to be directed
te tako a medicine which I might have bought
within u stone’s throw ol my own door: but I was
I in tho doctor’s hands, and of course 1 followed his
advice, and right glad was I that I did bo, for be
fore I bail taken Haul’s Remedy half a dozen times
I found immense benefit from it, and by contin
uing the use of it for a limited time I recovered
from my trouble entirely, and am to-dav, I think,
one of the most rugged of rugged Michiganders.
Tho world is indebted to you, sir, for the promul
gation of such a medicine, and I hope you may
not go without vour reward.”
ThPrc hRB ncvCT
y 6 F Bwwu un instance In
■k specific you need.
■ ■ Egg A w ere generally.
wvHJV i tUsafV ( AV.v
arc fIKKi-CI A-SS, n hAl’. and tei! leadily. For
;> r iculnre add less si I.AS li. PAINE, Room 1-1,
Smut lard block, (j i CYC I:lid , Ohio.
wh^ali
[JI Best Cough Syrup. Tasteagood. By
fcj Use In lime. Sold by drugglsta.
purr send to NIOORE'S
MUSINE.N* INIVEBSITt,
rilkb Atlnutu. Ua.
For Illustrated Circular. 23tn year
CONSUMPTION.
I have a poult!vo remedy for th* above disease; by its
use tlrmannds of cases of tbs worst kind and of long
standing have boon cured. Indeed, so strong is my fsltn
iu Its offlcaoy, thak! will tend TWO BOTTLES FREE, to
gether with thla dlßiuma. to ud
* ,l/ T l/i • ■•4r. 1 ;
An Open
Secret.
The fact is well understood
that the MEXICAN MUS
TANG LINIMENT is by far
the best external known for
man or beast. The reason
why becomes an “open
secret” when we explain that
“Mustang” penetrates skin,
flesh and mnsele to the very
bone, removing all disease
and soreness. No other lini
ment does this, hence none
other is so largely used or
does such worlds of good.
w The Only watch Factory
Whs* *N THE SOUTH.
HmH f| be- Patronize a Horn,
Save the mid- ” g
dleman’s profits, gj §j Bs|
and buy direct from th 6™ 3 9
J h MAMACTUEEB V|J
W,H Vfis Send for Illustrated
Price List, desertb
ing new improve-
FACTORY,
U Whitehall St, . fW
ATLANTA, Ga.
I- | ISBpßgp
* i
*SiMlia It?l!illiHlil9ilgr*T
” MILL & FAclimV^ls^rc^'
OF ALL KINDS. BELTI.NG, HOSE
and PACKING, OILS, PIMPS ALL
KINDS, IRON PIPE, FITTINGS,-’
BRASS GOODS, STEAM GAUGES,
ENGINE GOVERNORS, tO. Sendfor
CO