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MY OLD SWEETHEART JILL .
Tfc'k not to mo of modern maids,
Of Blam-be and Maud and Lil,
Tjj re’s n’er a one among them all
like my old sweetheart Jill!
Long years ago, when we wpre you g,
And climbed that horrid hill,
She bore the weight of half the pail,
A helpful sweetheart Jill!
And when I tumbled down that day,
(I have the w»r there still)
She shared my luck as she does yet,
Lear helpmeet, sweetheart Jill.
When happiness comes down our visq
Her laugh is like a rill,
The sun shone on the bridal day
Of merry sweetheart Jill.
If fortune frown upon our path;
Ab frowm, sometimes, she will,
*• There’s silver back of every cloud,”
Says cheery, sweetheart Jill.
Then drink this toast, ye envious ones;
Fill! All your g asses fill!
*‘ May every Jack get such a wife
As mv old sweetheart Jill!”
—[Edgar Wade Abbot, in Boston Times.
WHAT HAPPENED TO HAL
LIE.
BY SARAH BIERCE SCARBOROUGH.
Nothing had ever happened to Hallie
Burt. At least, that is what she claimed.
“Fourteen years is a very long time
to pass away without anything happen¬ had
ing to a remarked body, ” was when what she her persisted father in
gravely assertion; and Phil, her
the grown-up
brother, had quizzically asked if she
would be satisfied with anything less
than lassoing mountain a crocodile in one of the
Colorado lakes or shooting a
dodo in the canyon below.
“I don’t expect the impossible,” she
had retorted; “but I do want something
that might be called a ‘happening. J
The hunting excursions with the boys,
the round-ups climbing on the plateau, the
mountain and the agate hunting
—■all these she refused to consider in the
category of “happenings.” They were ex¬
pected things and “happenings ” were—
well—“something that she had not
plained. for—very long, at least,” she ex¬
several But, according to her own definition, In
the things happened very and soon. mother,
first place, her father
who went every year at the time of full
moon in September, to Pueblo, had prom¬
ised to take her with them on this trip;
but the very day before they started her
mother called her aside for a private talk.
At its close Hallie emerged from the sit¬
ting room with suspiciously swimming
eyes. mind it this time, dear,"
“ Try not to
said her mother. “You know that we
are to take your Aunt Catherine, and if
you think how ill she has been and how
much she will suffer from the discomfort
of being crowded, nnd how necessary it
is that her poor nerves be not annoyed in
any way, I am sure that you will find
some pleasure in the sacrifice of your
long-looked for trip.”
So she watched them depart, disappeared only
heaving a great sigh as they
from view.
“I should say that here is a happen¬
ing with a vengeance,” remarked her
twin brother, Hall, by way of consola¬
tion. “But I wouldn’t mind it tho’;
and we will go up after agates. Maybe
we will find one as a mate for the one
you want set for a button—that will be
another kind of a happening.”
But even that favorite amusement had
lost its charm.
“I if is bound to he poky the best way
you can fix it, she replied, gloomily.
“Then, too, it would not be right to go
off. There is nobody here but Phil and
us, and Phil isn’t to be depended on to
stay.” Manuel,” said
“You forget Garcia and
Hail.
“They are never Heigho! left alone.” don't
“That is so. I know,
but I wish with you that something would
happen.” Hallie right about Phil. That
was
noon one of the boys came down from
the upper ranch to tell of the stampede
of the cattle, and their suspicion that it
was caused by a mountain lion. Instantly
Phil was alert. He had long wanted a
mountain lion’s skin, and it did not take
long for him to convince himself that
■his presence was indispensable at the
other ranch.
i i I’ll go up for a couple of days, and
Fred ami you can look after everything.
Manuel will take good care of things.
Isn’t that so, Manuel ?”
“Si, Senor.” The man showed a glis¬
tening row of teeth as he answered.
“And I am sure that Garcia is to be
depended on.” her head without
The woman bobbed
hearing; for she was as deaf as a post.
“And I don’t like it a bit,” said Hallie,
as Phil rode off.
As for Hall, had he not secretly wished
to go with Phil, he would have thought
it just the thing to be left in charge. As
it was, he was discontented, and roamed
about, leaving Hallie to her own devices.
It was dull enough for her, as Garcia
was no company at all. But company
came. At night, two men—Mexicans—
rode up from the mountain road and
stopped to talk with Manuel.
“ They want to stop all night,” said
Hall “Manuel says that they are all
right.” “And that would be good why
a reason
I would not have them stay,” Hallie de¬
murred. But Hall laughed at her.
“Pshaw! Here's a girl that is always
wanting something to happen, and is
afraid it will at the same time.”
“I am not,” was the indignant reply.
“Only it might not be what I wanted.”
“They can stay in the adobe part, and
Manuel is all right to look after them.”
So they stayed, though Hallie kept wish¬
ing in her heart that something would
bring Phil back. But he did not come,and
Hall sleepily declared that nobody need
fret. The consequence was that long
after he had gone to sleep Hallie was in
Phil’s room next the adobe part, listen¬
ing to the conversation going on made among this
the men. The thin partition Late in the night
an easy thing to do.
ehe tiptoed to Hall's tjpdsidc. plan
“Wake up Hall! There is some
Among these men. I can’t quite un-
derstand — there’s so much Mexican
Greaser talk; but I know they think of
waiting for Papa’s coming back, and
mean to meet them in the upper can¬
yon.” “Now, Hallie, have imagined
you yawned Hall,
half of that, I expect,”
drowsily, as he prepared to turn over.
“But I haven’t, really. Hall, wake
up! I tell you I heard something about
money, too; and you know that Papa
brings up the pay for the boys this
time.”
“Manuel must have got hold of that
fact someway. The old rascal!” Hall
was awake now-. “If Phil were only
here!”
“We must get him here. Tt is only
twenty miles, and Padre cou*U make it
quick enough. Then he could go right
on and meet our folks. They’ll not start
before Friday.” talked and
The two until morning, by
that time Hall felt unwise quite thing convinced harbor that
he had done a very to
the men and was willing to do almost
anything to rectify his mistake. Hallie,
however, thought that it was the very
best tiling that could have happened would be¬
cause otherwise they themselves
have known nothing about the proposed
act of the highwaymen.
“You will not be afraid to stay?” Hall
asked, as he made his preparation for an
early start. “Perhaps you had better go
with me.”
“No, I’ll stay, so that they may suspect
nothing. They'll hang around until
about Friday before they set off for the
trail.”
At daylight Hall saddled Padre, “just
to have a day of hunting,” he said to Man¬
uel who w-as watching him. Hallie ner¬
vously saw him disappear, but began to
busy herself helping Garcia, so that the
day would not seem so long. Hall would
reach the ranch by noon, and the two
would be back by night; there would be
no danger before that she was sure.
But at noon another man rode up from
the mountain road and was taken into
the adobe part by the others. Hallie
hurried to Phil’s room with forebodings.
What she gathered from their talk not
last only surprised had but been terrified her. The her
comer a spy upon
father's movements. He reported that
they had already left Puejjlo—much ear¬
lier than of they had night, expected—and which they with always the
stop they one would the
made, reach upper canyon
about an hour after midnight.
Hallie saw it all. the They always pre¬
ferred to travel in evening when the
weather was warm and there was moon¬
light. It was Aunt Catherine’s health
which had probably caused the change
of time for return as well as the night
travel in September. What should she
do? If Phil would only come, there
would be time,or perhaps the boys could
see some plan to prevent proved the men itself from im¬
leaving. The last idea
possible, as at noon the three men rode
off upon the upper road.
All the long afternoon she watched
for a sign of Phil had or Hall, reached but home. night
cams and neither
Manuel had noticed her uneasiness and
had carelessly remarked that Hall might
get on the track of the mountain lion,
too. This did not not allay her
l'ears. It only reminded her of
what she had lost sight of—that possibly
Hall might not find Phil, and there was
no telling when the two could determination. get back.
It caused her to reach a
Manuel slept in the far end of the adobe
part, and Garcia would hear nothing at
any time So she set about her prepara¬
tions.
‘‘There is really nothing else to be
done.” she murmured to herself, as she
put on the short suit that she wore when
hunting with the boys. “Father must
be warned by somebody before those men
meet him.”
She knew just where the attack was
planned to take place—at the bend, after
the party had lelt the lower canyon. If
she could only reach the canyon before
they crossed and took the long wagon
road to the upper one. She believed she
could. They would leave “Hunt’s”—
their night’s stopping place—at sun¬
down. She remembered so vividly the
ride, as she had taken it three years be¬
fore—when they passed bronchos into the lower
canyon and stopped the to see
the grand sight under the pale light of the
moon which brought out. all the beauties
of the place with wierd effect--just
so she remembered.
She was certain that she could reach
it. She had thought of the old trail,
abandoned now that the wagon road had
been made. It was steep aud rough,
but it cut off full six miles and led off
from the upper canyon so far that there
was no danger of meeting those that men. Man¬
She was glad enough to find
uel had left her own broncho out iu
the corral at the left, and on the oppo¬
site side of the house from where he
slept. She was nervous; but Phister,
the broncho, was never unwilling to be
caught, so she was on his back in a short
time and walked him slowly away. For
a minute she sat, as she reached the old
trail which turned so sharply down the
mountain, and looked back.
There was no sign of the boys and she
looked ahead with a little quiver of fear.
“Nevermind, it’s for Papa and Mamma,
and nothing will hurt me,” she reassured
herself, and turned into the gloomy
path. rough indeed, rough that
It was so even
Phister’s well-trained feet found footing
difficult at times; but she clung to his
back and pushed on. She grew feverishly
excited though as she advanced. If she
should fail, alter all, to intercept them!
It made her almost frantic to think of it,
and Phister was urged to the imminent
danger of both. Still tho beast was wise
enough to refuse stubbornly to make un¬
due haste. She did not know the time,
aud minutes seemed hours. . She could
only roughly guess as, at times, the moon¬
light struggled into tbe path. It half
Now she w-as at the spring. underbrush; was
choked by gravel aud but
Phister would stop to drink. As he drank,
there t ame to her ears a prolonged Phister cry,
low and mournful, at first, but as
uneasily started on, it rose to a crescendo
wail. Again and again, at intervals, it
came to her ears, and it seemed to sound
nearer. Phister showed signs of ner¬
vousness. too. Suddenly it flashed upon
her that it might be the mountain lion.
Could it be following her -she had
heard of such things—or was it possibly
upon the other trail? She drew up
Phister sharply. This was an unlooked
for terror. For a moment she questioned
what she should do. She laid her hand
on the holster with a glad remembrance
that she had brought her own revolver.
She had learned to use it quite well, but
could she do anything if she should meet
an animal like that?
She must go on though, she quickly
decided, and if the worst came, well—
she would shoot—at it, she determined
with a nervous little laugh.
She patted Phister to reassure hirn,
and urged him to a good puce. The
descent was nearly over. Soon there
would be a smooth path for a short dis¬
tance, a grassy slope beyond, and then
she would be able to see into the canyon
down toward which she must ride in a
winding |>ath for nearly another mile.
Perhaps she was mistaken, she thought,
as all was quiet fora few minutes.
Then a bough broke somewhere up on
a mountain, and Phister stopped to raise
his ears. A low wail sounded again al¬
most at her right. The grassy slope had
been passed and she could see below.
Just over there was the cut through
which her father must come, but no one
was in sight. There was a crashing of
limbs nearer, as if some creature were
bounding from tree to tree. Phister
broke into a trot, rough as it was at
this point. She saw nothing, but she
felt the presence of something. Once
she thought of firing her revolver; but
she hesitated.
She did not know how far on the
other road the men might he, and if they
should hear it!— No; perhaps she could
outrun it—-whatever it be.
Then came another thought that fairly
made her heart stand still. Suppose that
the men had been mistaken, after all,
and her father was not coming that
night. Hallie had never fainted in her
life, but for a second everything reeled
before her. Still she pressed on.
Was not that a rattling of pebbles?
She drew up Phister to be sure. There
was a descent of the opposite side where
the broncho’s hoofs might loosen the peb¬
bles and send them down. But all was
still. Then there was another crash, and
the moon, which shone right into the
depths, showed a long dark body on a
swaying limb overhanging the canyon
road some twenty feet below. Phister
saw- it, too, and trembled. A low, panting,
purring there sound length, came from the beast teet¬
ering at its eyes fixed on the
road beneath.
There was a rattling; she was sure and of it.
There was a murmur of voices, the
wagon train emerged from the opposite
trail. If the beast had followed her, it
was evident that its attention had been
suddenly drawn to the new comers, and
it lay with angry, quivering body and
lashing tail, ready for a leap into their
midst.
Like a flash Hallie saw it all. Her
father or mother might be killed in that
unlooked-for spring, or, if this did not
happen, what a terrible shock it would
be toiler aunt’s nerves!' Her ow-n seemed
to become steel at the thought. She
slapped Phister smartly. The broncho
stepped tremblingly forward. The lion
turned its head at the sound. As Phister
stopped short again, Hallie raised her
revolver, took deliberate aim and fired.
There was a snarl, a convulsive bound,
then the beast sprang out, clutching at
the limbs, and rolled down the canyon’s
side. k
With the report, Phister gave a ten
fied snort, dashed frantically forward,
fairly leaping over the stones, whirled
around the turn in the path and bore her
straight into the midst of an astonished
group. Hallie!”
“It is our
With Mrs. Burt’s exclamation, every¬
thing was confusion for a few moments,
and it was some minutes before Hallie
herself could of *recover her ride self-possession and its
enough to tell that cause. her
“My brave girl!” was all looked the
mother could say, as they road. at
lion stretched dead across the
But her father held her firmly by the
hand as he decided upon the course to
pursue iu regard to the Mexicans. If
Hallie could ride down the old trail, they
could ride up it; so the women, with
Mr. Burt aud another man, took the
bronchos and slowly rode back, Aunt
Catherine rising equal to the occasion,
declaring that her comfort was not to be
thought of longer.
It was was
reached. They found old Garcia in a
state of terror.' Hall and Phil had re¬
turned late that night aud, taking Manuel
with them, had immediately set off on
the upper road after the Mexicans. Be¬
fore noon they returned with jaded
horses, but with the men as captives, hav¬
ing surprised them in their waiting.
Manuel solemnly affirmed that he knew
nothing of their design; but whether he
did or not, Mr. Burt thought it best to
rid himself of him soon after.
“Well, Hallie, you can never happened again
complain that nothing has ever
to you, I am sure,” said Phil, when all
had heard of that ride with that cry re¬
sounding in her ears.
“And I think I am cured of ever again
wishing anything to happen,” she replied,
with a shudder.
But her “happenings” had begun. had
Aunt Catherine leurued how Hallie
given up the trip to Pueblo for her sake,
and the next announcement made was
that her niece was to go back to the East
with her. And when they went Hal¬
lie carried the mountain lion skin with
her.
“She has earned it all, too,” said
Phil, proudly. “Not many girls would
have done what she did. And think
of that shot right in that animal’s
temple!” persisted that
But Hallie has always
that was the most extraordinary happea
ing of all.—[The Independent.
One of the exhibits in the railroad
section at the World’s Fair will be a
series of pictures illustrating the history
of the railroad from the time when it was
two miles of wooden rails, over which s
mule pulled a clap-boarded wagon twice
a day, to these times of thousand mile
runs and record breaking. The Balti¬
more aud Ohio Railroad is having these
pictures painted by Mr. Paul Moran ol
this city, who will make a large numbei
of them in black and white.
It is computeei that all the locomotives
in the United States would, if coupled
together, make a train 300 miles long.
The passenger cars would make anothei
train of about the same length, and if all
the cars of every variety in the country
were coupled behind the engines, the re¬
sult would he a train just about 7,000
miles long.
THE JOKERS’ BUDGET.
JESTS AND YARNS BY FUNNY MEN
OF THE PRESS.
The Dry Side—Very Suspicious—Pretty
Near -Her Swear Word, Etc., Etc.
THE DRY SIDE.
“How old are you, Miss Blusox?”
piped Georgie, during a lull in the con¬
versation.
“W-why?” stammered Miss Blusox.
“I’m on the sunny side of 30, Georgie.”
“Is that why you look so dried up,
Miss Blusox?” queried Georgie, inter¬
estedly.—[Truth.
VERY suspicious.
Paul Knight—If you don’t stop inves¬
tigating my conduct you may get into
trouble.
Mrs. Knight—How? will be arrested
Paul Knight—You character.—[Puck. as
a suspicious
PRETTY NEAR.
Fogg—My wife is really getting com¬
plimentary. how’s that?
Brown—Ah!
Fogg—Why, she came mighty near
speaking of my raven locks.
Brown—IIow near, for instance?
Fogg—Why, she said my head looked
like a crow’s 'nest.—[Boston Transcript.
HER SWEARWORD.
“George!” said Maud.
“I am William,” said William, sternly.
“Oh, I know that, Willie,” returned
Maud. “I hurt my finger, and that was
my little swearword.”—-[Harper’s Bazar.
A GOOD REASON.
Blande (sitting in his comfortable
apartment)—How I pity the poor such a
night as this!
Bluff—Then why don’t you put on
your coat and go out and see if you can¬
not render assistance to some of them?
Blande—Ah! then I sdouldn't be so
comfortable as I am now, and might
forget the poor and begin to pity myself.
That would be selfish, you know.
—[Boston Transcript.
so sweet.
Clarissa—And you say that old Jones
told you he loved you?
Ethel—He said he doted on me.
Clarissa—Oh, yes, it is plain to be
seen he has reached his dotage.
NO ONE else HAD ANY SHOW.
Brobson—Who was the greatest show¬
man—Barnum?
Craik—Oh, no; Noah. You see, when
he got his menagerie together he was
the only man on earth who had any show
at all.—[Life. !
TIME AND MONEY.
A couple of bachelors were talking
about their forlorn and undouble con¬
dition.
“Well,” said one, “I should have
married long ago, but I haven’t had time
enough to think about it.”
“ Time?” echoed the other, “ Time?
Well, if the adage is true that time is
money, then I haven’t had time enough,
either,” and they went on their lonely
ways dejected and sad.—[Detroit Free
Press.
WHY THE COOK LEFT.
You ask me why I left there?
It really made me grieve; quarreled
But master and missus so
much
That at last I had to leave.
Their langwidge it was dreadful,
And awfully they looked.
You ask me what they quarreled
about ?
’ Twas the way the meals was
cooked.
TYPICAL FIRE ESCAPES.
Guest—What precautions have you
here in ease of fire?
Hotel Clerk—We have fire escapes
from every floor. All you have to do is
to make your way to one of them and
fall off.—[New York Weekly.
SMART AS KIS PATIENT.
Old Doctor—You look quite well to¬
day. Did you take the pills I left for
you? Knowital (emphaticall)—Not
Young
one of ’em.
Old Doctor—Well, it doesn’t matter.
They were made of bread.
A GREEN FOREIGNER.
First Boy—The paper says that when
some train-robbers started to rob the pas¬
sengers out West, a man kicked jumped up an’
knocked ’em down, an’ ’em out.
Second Boy—Guess he must a-been
some immigrant wot hadn’t been livin’
in a free country long enough to get
scared.—[Good News.
THE FORTUNE TELLER OUT.
“And she is going to marry an Eng¬
lish lord?”
“She is?”
“Well, I’ll never believe in a fortune
teller again.”
“Why not?” her fortune
“Because one told and
said she was going to have a happy
future.”—[New York Press.
WHY HE WEPT.
Johnny’s mother found him weeping
bitterly. Something serious must have
happened. “Why, Johnny, dear, what is the
my
matter?”
“Boo-hoo! Grandpa just fell down on
the we-wet walk and got his clothes all
mud.”
“But don’t cry, Johnny. I am glad to
find you so kind-hearted and sympa¬
thetic.”
“Ye-ye-yes, and sister saw him, and
I—Ididn’t.”—[ Truth.
BOUND TO SELL THEM.
Crusty Customer—You say those
glasses are three time as valuable as I
wear. I can’t see it.
Bright Salesman—Certainly not, with
those imperfect old glasses.—[Jewellers’
Weekly,
LIKED OYSTERS.
Little Son—Mamma, do you like
pearls? Mamma—Indeed, I do.
Little Son—Well, you give me some
money to go to a restaurant an’ get a
oyster stew, an’ mebby I’ 11 find a nice
pearl for you.
THEY CRY IN TRAGEDY.
Friend—Did you ever shed real tears
on the stage? make
Actress—Often. It's enough to
even an actress cry to be told, right that in
the middle of a five-act tragedy, t-he gate
the manager has skipped with
receipts.
LOUD.
‘‘How does he dress?”
“His clothing speaks for itself”.
CANDID.
“Chappie isn’t afraid to tell the truth
about himself.”
“No?” had
“No. The other day he said he
half a mind to take French lessons.”—
[New York Press.
BETTER THAN NOTHING.
Servant—Please, sir, the coal is all out.
Mr. Wearie—Well, here’s a big pile of
dunning letters for that last ton. Burn
them.—[New York Weekly.
TWO WOULD BE A CROWD.
It all happened in one of ocean’s caves,
where the star fishes love to linger and
sea weeds cling affectionately to the in¬
sensible rock.
An oyster rushed wildly into the hum¬
ble home his industry and frugality had
piovided. He was very much agitated.
“Oyster alive,” she gasped, “what has
happened?” darling,” he impressively
“My ex¬
claimed, “good-bv!” low
She sank into a seat with a moan.
A terrible fear gnawed at her breast.
“Are you called to the upper world?”
Her voice died on her lip. She read in
his face that her worst fears were con¬
firmed.
“Merciful heaven!”
Burrying her face in her hands she
wept copiously. Hastily underclothing, gathering the to¬
gether a change of
oyster stood at the door and cast about
him one last glance at the beloved place
he w r ould see no more.
Suddenly his wife sprang to her feet.
A . My life!” she cried, “I will go with
you 1”
lie shook his head.
“No,” he groaned, “I must go alone.
I am wanted for a church sociable.”
Dashing a tear from his eye he kissed
her cheek and was gone.—[Detroit Trib
une.
THE LANGUAGE OF PRESENTS.
George—What’s wrong? what Miss
Jack—1 can’t make ont
Pinkie’s litttle present to me means.
George—If it’s useful, it means that
she is interested in your comfort, and
would probably say “yes.” If it’s only
ornamental, it means that the present
is sent merely as a little token to u
friend.
Jack—The one she sent me is both
useful and ornamental. It is a
handsomely decorated individual salt¬
cellar.
George—That means that she considers
you both useful and ornamental, but a
little too fresh.— [Nevy York Weekly.
SEEN AT A GLANCE.
Yellowly—I got this suit theap. It is
a misfit.
Brownley (with emphasis)—It is easy
to see that.
ALL THE DIFFERENCE IN THE WORLD.
Jack—Would you elope with any¬
body ? (coyly)—No, with
Rosalie not any¬
body, but I might with somebody.—
[ Truth.
MERE MATTER OF TIME.
Mrs. Binks—How does it happen that
Mrs. Nexdoor can afford to dress better
than I can ?
Mr. Binks—They haven’t been married
long, and I presume he isn’t quite broke
yet.
REAL BLISS.
First Little Girl—Oh, l’ye got just the
loveliest doll you ever saw, an’ I’m so
happy with it I don’t know what to do.
Second Little Girl—Is it big? big it
First Little Girl—Big? It’s so
mos’ breaks my heart to carry it.—[Good
News.
RELIABLE RECIPES.
To Broil Steak.— Steak for broiling
should not be thin or it will be dry and
hard; at the market, ask them to cut
your steak three-fourths of an inch thick,
cut off the suet, grease the broiler and
have it hot, lay the steak on the broiler
on a bed of hot coals, turn the broiler
often; when done remove to a hot plat¬
ter, sprinkle with salt and spread butter
over it; serve Immediately.
Roast Loin of Veal. —Take a white
and fat loin of veal with the kidney at¬
tached; saw off the spine and remove
what is left of the hip bone, season with
salt and pepper; tie up the flop over the
kidney, put,in a buttered sautoir with a
glass of water, and bits of butter on top;
cover with a buttered paper, and cook
in a moderate oven for nearly two hours,
basting occasionally with the gravy;
drain, untie, place on a dish, add a little
broth to the sautoir, skim the fat, reduce
to a demi-glaze sauce, strain over the
veal, and serve.
Stuffed Beefsteak. —A large slice of
round is best for this; if there is any
bone, with a small knife, loosen the bone
and take it out, season with salt and
pepper; have ready prepared some dress¬
ing, made of stale bread crumbs, moist¬
ened with cold water, seasoned with one
egg, a spoonful of butter, salt and a
little parsley or sifted sage, mix well and
spread on the slice of steak, roll up
closely and wind with a cord; have the
oven very hot, put it in a tin in the oven,
bake half an hour, mix and a spoonful in the of
butter and water together put
tin while baking; when done, remove
the cord and serve hot, cut in slices
from the end of the roll.
The Value of Eggs.
At a convention recently held in the
city of Chicago by dealers in butter,
cheese, and eggs, statistics were pro¬
duced showing the *value of the egg
product of the United States last year
amounted to $200,000,000; making of poultry,
$100,000,000, a grand total of
$ 500,000,000 to the credit of the hens.
Where is the person that will ridicule
this industry and say it is a trifling busi¬
ness? Facts usually prove who are the
ignorant and unreasonable people living
living about us.—[American Farmer.
For Rent.
Plantation nine miles below Enough Statesboro*
eood dwelling and barn. land
for one or two horse farm. Apply to
tf S. L. Moore, Jr. Statesboro, Ga.
lASL'liK XOLK STOCK.
Parties desiring to have their live stoos
lu&uied can do so by applying to the un
dersigned, as he is the representative of
the Southern Live Stock Insurance Com¬
pany of Atlanta, Ga., for this section^
This company has a capital stock of f
$50,000. Act wisely and insure your
horse as you would your house.
A. J. BRINSON,
*( Rocky Ford, Ga.
For oQIC.
I have on hand a large lot of cypress
shingles for sale cheap for cash.
W. S. Prkf.toiuans.
J. C. WHITE, M. D.
STATESBORO. GEORGIA.
W. T. SMITH,
Livery, M k Sale Stales,
Statesboro, G-a.
L f. QnaltleMnm, M. D.
STATESBORO, GA.
HAIL’S HOTEL y
Statesboro, Ga.
Come and enjoy yourselves. .Rooms
comfortable, porters polite and table well
furnished.
W. N. HALL, Proprietor.
L. J. McLEAN,
DENTIST,
STATESBORO, GA.
D. L. WATERS,
Pliotograplier.
171 Congress St. Savannah, Ga.
Moulumgs. La'ge Assortment I of the Frames and
guarantee best work
for the least money. When in need of
anything in my line oall on me.
Horses ii Moles for' Sale.
I have a fine lot of horses and mules,
just arrived, for sale. Come at once and
take your choice before they are picked
over, It is the best lot ever brought to
this market.
W. T, SMITH.
tf
W. W. WATERS J
DOVER, GEORGIA.
Dealers in Cips and ToDacco’s
and Befreslient Generally.
The Public is invited to
call and see me when at
Dover.
GUAM BUYERS,
TAKE NOTICE!
I am Agent for the following
standard Brands of Guano and
would be pleased to furnish same
either at Statesboro or anywhere
else desired. I can sell you Bald¬
win’s Dissolved Bone at $25.00
a Ton. I also have for sale
Chatham Guano, Eclipse
and Kainit Salt.
HIRAM FRANKLIN,
Statesboro, Ga.
NANCY HANKS ROUTE.
M. S. DIV.
No. 1, Nancy Hanks, arrive.., 8 44 an
“2, “ “ ‘ ... 6 30 pn
“ 5, mail train, arrive.......11 55 m
“ 6, “ “ “......... 8 00 pin
“ 3, night passenger........1125 pm
“ * “ “ 8 00am
........
SOUTH CAROLINA DIV.
No. 14, mail, arrives 8 3f am
“ 2 “ << 6 25 pm
,
“ 4, night train, arrives.... 11 20 Jam
“ 1, “ “ leaves..... 8 SO am
•
“ 13, mail train, leaves.....6 *0 pm'
“ 3, ni ght train, leaves 3 40 am
... ,. A
Savannah to Atlanta, 6 hours and 45
minutes.
Try “Nancy Hanks” Route.
H. M. COMER, Recoivar.
