Newspaper Page Text
• "
■
"
—
-vs. -!7
"V_7 :
■--r~ •*?
”-“ w
'. • •>
'•»£€
■ .:::v ■-!
. .
< . ■ ■ ‘ — *. . ■ '
Used in Millions of Homes—40 Years the Standard*
Religious Department
THINGS TO COKE.
Billy Mackintosh— Look* Ilka rain,
doesn’t it?
Tommy Covercoto—Yaao. Fact is, it la
tain, don’t ye know. Whateher think it
was, coffee?—Harper’s Weekly.
Bis Friend.
Dr. Liddell’s morning levees were crowd
ed heyottd description. It was his pride and
boas* that he could feel his patient’s pulse,
■'look at his tongue, sound him with p stetho
scope, write his prescription and pocket his
fee in a space of time varying from two to
five minutes.
One day an army man was shown into the
consulting room and underwent what
might be called the instantaneous process.
When it was completed, the patient shook
hands with the doctor and said:
“I am especially glad to meet you, as I
have often heard my father, Colonel Fores
ter, speak of Me old friend, Dr. Liddell.!^
“Whatl” exclaimed the doctor. “Areyon
Dick Forester’s jpn?” % >
“Most certainly I am." ..
“My deal* fellow,’’ exclaimed the doctor,
“fling’ that prescription into the fire and
sit down and tell me what’s the matter with
you.’’—Yankee Blade.
Not 80 Bad.
The manner in which the blue sash was
adjusted about her slender waist confessed
her at once the recent graduate of some
leading institution of female learning.
Tlie confession was corroborated by the
faraway look in her eyes.
“And so”—
It waa a man with a large red neck and
an aspect of indifference to the stringency
in the money market who addressed her.
“my little girl didn’t take first hon
ors.”
Sho tossed her bead.
“Well I should say”
She was decidedly impatient.
“not. I ain’t quite so homely as all
that. Third place is bad enough. Huh.”
And the girl glanced doggers.—Detroit
Tribune.
And 8he Did.
A girl in a Maine village who made her
home with her aunt was often disturbed by
evidences of thoold lady’s indifference to
everything but tho welfare of her own ma
terial possession. One day, in going down
cellar for some butter, she tripped and fell
heavily quite a distance. Tho maiden aunt
rushed to the door, and peering down into
the darkness called out sharply:
“D’ye break the dish?”
“No!" thundered back the niece, for once
thoroughly aroused. “No, but I will!” and
• the shivered it with hearty good will
■gainst the cellar wall.—Lewiston Journal.
How little we know what may bo wnp,
ped up for us In those throe word*! How
much of joy or tonow.they may bold!
The things past an ours. They have
given us all that they had for us, or that
we chose to take fiomtbcm, and we know
what they are. Things present we, ina
measure, possess, at least for the moments
if no longer; and they, too, are known to
as —Bot^tbe things to come”—the thing,
whieh lie before us, who shall siy what
they are, or what they may mean to oaf
Just one certainty we have regarding
them, but it is one of noapeekable comfort
and etrengfat. ‘ Things to come," no
matter what they are, no matter wbat side
of tor lives they touch or how close and
persistent their cootict may be, whether
they an joyful or afflictive, whether they
are already anticipated or ntterly beyond
the reach of our imagination, they can
nevtr for n moment separate hs from Him
who is our life.
Moreover, it is from his love that noth
ing can part ns—the love that was ours
from the beginning, and will be ours al
ways and forever. “Having loved his
won, be loved thim onto the end."
Without thia comforting abidelng as-
suranoe bow could we calmly look for
ward into mist and obecuiity? Not one
■tep can we see beyond the present mo
ment; the next step may bring ns face to
face with a blank .dreary wall of difficulty,
an abyss «f unutterable woe, a mountain
of appalling,labor, or into higher sunshine
than our lives have ever yet known. __
Cou'd we go thus blindly and* igno
rantly without a faltering step and
trembling heart if we were not graciously
and absolutely assured that "things to
come’ are all in our Fatbei’a plan for us,
and that so far from separating or driving
us from him, they will each one, if we
will, draw us closer and closer to bis own
loving hetrtf For thia is the wonderful
promise that nothing “shall ever aaeparte
us from the love of God which is in Christ
Jesus-’’
No fear,^ then, for the child of God as
be enters on unknown experiences. He is
resting on and is upheld by One from
whom nothing on earth or in heaven; can
part him while God rales and bis Word
stands ft m, and that will be FOREVER.
—Dorcas Hicks, in The Presbyterian.
OUR MOTHER’S BOOK.
_ We evil the sood, ths purr.
From gravestones and from
thsl
'From gravestones and from written*
From sB old flower 1 “
1 of the soul.
Alta weary makers o< the best
We come back laden from oar qoest
To And that aU the sages said
la li tho Book oar mothers read.
A POINT OF HONOR.
There waa a commotion in Scratch
Gravel, Wy., on the morning of June
88, 1873. Jack Langworthy, a local
celebrity, had killed a tenderfoot from
Pennsylvania, and there waa naturally
some curiosity, if not to say excitement,
over the affair. The circumstances of
the case were about like this: Jack and
the Pennsylvanian were having a little
game of cards, when the former noticed
a alight deception on the part of his ad
versary in the way of dealing himself
from one to four cords too many and
concealing them in his coat sleeve.
"Sich proceedings are entirely foreign
to the customs of this yer camp,” finally
remarked Langworthy, and at the sany*
time sent a pistol shot intoShe “tender
foot’s” head. The ball passed diagonally
through the head from the base of the
left ear, and ranging downward made a
final entrance into the side of a whisky
barrel which stood in one corner of the
room.
“Ton’ll lose some of yer whisky if you
don’t regulate the bole I’ve just made in
-that ’ere barrel,” quietly remarked Jack
to the proprietor of the place, adding
parenthetically, “and it’s good liquor
too.”
As for the “tenderfoot"—well, he was
dead.
The rude law of Scratch Gravel took
cognizance of this fact and also of the
baa that. I’m ashamed of
yi.% ^
“But ye don’t understand haeP ex- -
claimed Bill excitedly. "Listen! The Lillian Alton was a i
jedge sentenced ye to be hanged the 10th
of July, but ho forgot to name the year!
The 10th of July 10 yean from now will
do, or longer. He only said the 10th of
July!”
it he meant today,” said Jack,
trembling in every limb.
Bat ho didn’t say jL- You may suit
your own convenience about tho year,
Jack, fer yer own sake and fer the sake
of the twins, skip.”
There was much disappointment that
afternoon among the citizens of Scratch
Gravel when it was discovered that
Jack was gone. Search was made of
his cabin, but there were so signs of
Sally, Jack or the twins. They were
gone for good.
And now comes the strangest part of
this story. The 10th of July five years
later a gray old man, bent nearly dou
ble, thrust his shadowy form into the
presence of the chief magistrate of
Scratch Gravel and demanded a hearing.
“I am Jack Langworthy,” he said,
“and I have come back according to
promise to be hanged. Yon seer the
twins are dead—both dead—and Sally
she’s' gone to—run away 'with another
man, and now I’ve come back to meet
the requirements of the law. There has
been some delay, I’ll admit, but I was
bound to come back some time, and here
lam.'
The laws and customs of Scratch
Gravel had changed somewhat since
Jack departed the place five years be
fore, and as the affair in which he was
interested was no longer a sensation of
the day be was simply told to leave the
town as soon as possible. He went at
once, and the last seen of him alive he'
was tramping slowly out of town with
his face toward the setting sun.
maimer of his death, and Jack was ar-' s A little leterin the year, when the
Might Bo So.
“When I was once in danger from a lion,”
qyald on old African explorer, “I tried sit
ting down and staring at him, as I had no
weapons."
“Howdld it work?" asked his companion.
“Perfectly. The lion didn’t even offer to
touch me.” •
“Strange! How do you account for it!”
“Well, sometimes I’ve thought it was be
cause I Bah down on the branch of a very
tall tree.”—Tit-Bits.
Tho Georgia Male.
“Have you got any Georgia patent curry
combs?” asked a man of a Tooooa merchapt
the other day.
“I don’t know," replied the storekeeper.
"I’ve got several kinds. What sort is the
Georgia patent?”
“It’s made with scallops so it will fit in
between a mule’s ribs this time of year,”
replied the man.—Atlanta Constitution.
.O lead me. Lord, that 1 may lead
The waLdering and the wavering fee’;
O feed me. Lord, that I may feed
The hungering onea with manna awee’.
O strengthen me, that while I stand
Firm on the reck and strong in Thee*
I may stretch out a loving hand
To Giestkrs with the troubled sea
— [Frances R. Havergal.
8T.B UP THE GIFT.
Easily Arranged.
Mias Summit—Papa wants you to go
yachting with him tomorrow.
Regy—Doah me, I weally couldn’t go, ye
knaw. Why, my yachting suit isn’t fin
ished yet, v
Miss Summit—Oh, that’s all right. You
can wear one of mine:—Clothier and Fur-
The Proper Oae.
Johnny—Mamma, can’t you tell me a
new fairy story?
Mrs. Braggs—1 don’t know any, Johnny.
Maybe your father will tell me some when
be oomes in tonight.—Bulletin.
A Poll Man. -
Melton —That fellow ATltalke is the
windiest man I know.
Measerly—No wonder. His wife takes
particular pains to blow him up every
chance she gete.—Troy Press.,
A Decided Preference.
“What scent do you prefer, Mr.
purse?" asked she as
turner's shop
“The red, Miss Moneygurb” replied he
fervently.—Truth.
De
Commendable Caution.
Haves cigarette?
No. I don’t smoke “fool kill-
De Sapplo—Neither would I if I were
you.—Life.
; jh A Man Who Said This,
“It waa a woman whotook the prize in
the missing word contest.”
“Iam not surprised at it. A woman is
never at a loss for word*”—Jfew York
The apostle exhorts his son Timothy to
“stirrup the gift of God’’ which is in him
There are many prtclous gifts which are
otused. They are like fires which are
banked or buried in ashes. There are gifts
which if stirred up would make flamin
'torches of men who now are only smoking
flax. There are multitudes of men who
stand for filtle more than ciphers in the
world’s groat sum, who, if their gifts were
stirred op and aroused, might be mighty
factors to mould the world’s destiny.
A gift that m not stirred up becomes dor
mant, and comparatively useless. There
may be the gift of speech, which if Mg
looted is almost lost; or the gift of discern,
ment, whieh may become obscured and
dulkd by tho stupefying influences of sin
and neglect So various gifts, left alone
and neglect, are like the talent buried in
the ground. They gather mold and rust,
instead of increasing and multiplying.
Stir up the gift that ta in you. If God
baa given you a gift it is for use, for exer
cise, for employment; and he would have
it used tor his glory and the good of your
fellow men. Wbat is a sword good for
if it rest in the scabbaidf What it a
lamp worth if it is never lighted? What
is a seed worth if it lies stored away and
ia never cast into the ground? What is
wealth good for if.it be clutched and hoop
ded? So any gift which God bestows on
, it allowed to remain unused,largely
its value, and at last seems to fade
out of existence.
The gifts of the painter, the poet, mu
sician, the artist, the student, all nut be
exercised and stirred op. or they will wan
become of little worth.-Ho “the gift of
God," the power which the M”»t High be
slows upon meD, is for service, forexetcise,
for use, for blessing; and the Christian
must stir np the gift of God wb : cli is with
in him, and so use that gilt that it ahall
bring good to others and benediction from
the Lord.—[Armory.
Deeds, Bonds ior Titles,
Mort£»308 f Notea, Ac, tt
Btmnu jib aflatr
rested. A few weeks later he was ar
raigned for the murder and pleaded
guilty. The judge sentenced him to be
hanged. Then Jack made a speech
Among other things he stud:
“I killed the man, I know, and perhaps
it’s fair enough that I should die too.
Leastwise I don’t set up my judgment
agin that of the court. The laws of
Scratch Gravel should be enforced, but
just now Tm sort o’ sorry the enforce
ment ia necessary. The deal ia a hard
one, and the worst of it all ia that the
roughness is sot agin me alone—oh, no,
not agin me, bat Sally and the twins.
1 don’t care for myself—just as soon go
as not—bat when I think of the twins I ;
think—1 think, by mighty! I’ll have to
tell you 1 can’t stand it. You see, the
twins ere boys—both boys—and they are
a rattlin pair an no. mistake. I alters
reckoned on the twins ’mounting to
something in the world, bnt if their fa
ther is to be hanged—that settles it.
What would the twins ever amount to
then? Now, i? I could go some other
way, it wouldn’t look so bad—the twins
might pull through—but to be strung up
like a common thief, it would be a weight
on. them ’erq twins that ’ud keep ’em
down} forever. So you 6eo it ain’t for
myself that I care—not fer me and not
fer Sally so mnch, either, although I do
kinder like the old gal—but the twins.
Well, it breaks me all up to think of
leaving'em, it does for a certain fact.
Jedge, when will the performance take
tplace?"
The unfortunate man was informed
that the 10th of Jnly was the date fixed
for bis execution, and that he should
make preparations to be on hand at that
time punctually so as not to delay the
proceedings.
You see, Jack,” said the judge famil
iarly, “we ain’t goin to be mean enough
to lock yon np, not yop—it wouldn’t be
right—not with an honorable man like
you. It ain’t fer any dislike fer yon or
bad feeling that we’re going to hang you,
Jack, but it’s the law, you know, the.
law. So you'll moke it a point of honor,
Jack, to be on band when the time
comes.”
For the next week Jack staid about
borne pretty much all the time. Occa
sionally some of his friends would drop
in to ask about his healtb-and the health
of the twins. The slightest mention of
the latter would set his tongue in mo
tion, and somehow he seemed to think
there were no other children in the world
worth talking about.
“They’ll poll way ahead of their old
dad in a few years,” he had often said.
Maybe one of ’em *01 be an auctioneer
or a bank president, and the other
.steamboat captain—who knows? Them
boys, are smart.”
It was the month of Jane. Wonder
fully bright the sun shone, wonderfully
sweet the birds sung, wonderfully gray
and bare and cold were the distant
mountains. It seemed to Jack that all
creation was smiling over his misfortune
and mocking him for a coward who was
afraid to die.
One evening, just a week prior to the
date fixed for his execution, be seated
himself en a bowlder near bis cabin door
and took the twins in his arms. They
were little follows and climbed all over
him. One of them got his little brown
arm around the paternal neck and pulled
the grizzly hair and beard with hia chub
by fingers. Then looking into the up
turned face he said sorrowfully:
“There’s wasser in your eyes, dad
What’yr matter?”
Jack put the child down rather rough
ly, and remarking as he brushed his
eyes that the “bugs war mighty trouble
some that evening” he walked into the
house.
The 10th of Jnly arrived. In the
morning, quite early. Bill Drake, an old
time friend of Jack’s, came to see him,
“Seems like thar ought to be some way
to get out of this,” remarked Bill.
“Td just as soon go,” said Jack, half
apologetically, “ef it wasn’t fer the
twins. You see, I’ve sort o’ banked on
them twins fer a long while. I reckon
thar’ll be good turnout at the gallus,
Bill.” ; Jr,V
“Yon wouldn’t slip away, would you,
Jack?” finally whispered Bill, with
strange light in his eyes.
chapparal bushes began to shed their
leaves and the vines that tumbled over
the gray rocks were touched with frost,
the fleshless frame of a man was found
suspended from a rock over a deej
ravine. It was Jack Langworthy. Fail
ing to find an executioner when he want
ed one, he had taken the matter into his
own hands and hanged himself.—J. M.
Hoffman in. Chicago Inter Ocean.
A Surprise.
Jack reached for his i
“I don’t want to i
yon, Bill,” ho
said fiercely, “but Til do it, snr, if yo
that insult, - Thought yo knew
He—Why, I never have any sense when
I'm in the company of a pretty girL
She—What a queer way of paying me a
compliment, Mr. Sappy!—Truth.
Shb b th. im^bili of ana of Virginia.’* moot die*
IhnblMil living imImbwi, Whoa the child ni In s
•tstoof eolUpm bom ohobn Infojitnw, ud tho doe-
ton hod loft It to die, it »(ina Gormotaer. In tiro
hoan it wind ud btiu to resovsr nrj rapidly. If
a meant Uttar uelosinc tho shot, picture of tho non.
tho mother up that “It ni nl«td bate
R P (King’s Royal Germetuer) cure*
. (]. Stomach Trou' “
■1, al . U. ownn.il xniublea. Nervous Dis
order. Bowel Derangement, in old or young |
Sidney and Bladder Troubles and Debility.
KIHG’S ROYAL GERMETUBB CO.,
ATLANTA. QA.
donate woman who loved her husband
and whose husband loved her. They
were recently married, hut not so re
cently that Tam Axton had not time to
find out that his wife had absolutely no
head at all for finance. She could not
keep accounts. They bewildered her
and always ended in a hopeless muddle.
She was like the woman who, being
urged to keep some account of her ex
penditure, triumphantly showed her
husband her book with the two entries
ou the debtor and creditor side, “Re
ceived, $50,” and “Spent, $50,” and who
was exceedingly pleased to see that the
$30 on the one aids balanced the $50 on
the other.
Lillian had the most vague idee about
checks. It seemed to her that if a book
was filled with unused checks their bank
account therefore was unlimited.
Now, there are two.things for a man
to do when he finds himself in such a sit
uation as Tom Axton found himself.
One of the things is wise, and one of the- L
things is foolish. If he is a foolish man,
he will endeavor to teach his wife how
to keep accounts. If he is a wise man,
he will simply make np his mind to earn
more money and let the accounts go. So
Tom Axton, being wise, bothered his
wife very little about accounts, but set
tled the bills when they came in as well
as he was able and bent his energies to
ward the accumulating of a good and re
liable balance at the bank.
And so things went on very comforta
bly and pleasantly until winter set in.
One night when Tom came home Mrs.
Lillian, who was a most transparent
kind of woman, began a conversation on
the subject of sealskin jackets. She said
that they were the most economical gar
ments; that a woman with a sealskin
coat was always well dreased; that the
apparent costliness of the garment was
a delusion; that a woman who had be
stowed upon her a sealskin sack at the
beginning of a hard winter had little
else to ask far until the spring.
Tom listened gravely and finally raid:
“There is nothing personal in all this
talk, is there?"
Lillian averred that there waa not and
indignantly repudiated the insinuation
that she was thinking about herself at
all. .She was merely interested in the
subject in a general way. And Tom said
quietly:'
“Lillian, my dear, what is the price of
tiie particular garment you have been
looking at?”
At this point in the conversation she
came over and sat upon his knee, and at
last Tom received the information that
a perfectly lovely sealskin coat could be
had for $800, which was worth, at the
very lowest figure, $300.
“In that case,” said Tom, “it is rather
a pity not to buy it,” and she admitted
with some reluctance that it 'was a
shame to let such a chance go by.
Tom did some figuring and found that
a check for $300 would be honored at his
bank and leave still a little credit re
maining.
His overcoat was on next morning and
he was just about to depart for his office
when he opened the drawer of the table
in his room, took ont his checkbook and
wrote a check to the order of his wife
fer $200.
Mrs. Lillian was overjoyed, but Tom
was away before she could thank him-
She looked at the check with thie ink
still wet upon it, waved it fer a moment
in the air to dry it and then held it
lightly with its face toward the opeq
fire that Was blazing on the hearth,
How it happened she never knew, bat
the check gave a little carl at the corner
and burst into a flame in her hand. She
dropped it, tried to snatch it again, bat
the cbvred remnants escaped up tiie
chimney.
Mrs. Lillian’s face became as white as
the ashes on the hearth, and she sank
into the armchair beside the fire, cover
ing her face with her hands.
had gone to.
AFTER THREE YEARS.
CovraoTox, Ga.,May Si. 1893.
For abont five years I was a steal sufferer
from neuralgia in my face and eyes, and hemor
rhage of the kidneys, whieh caused a great deal
of blood to pass from them, eaurin^ me to ruder
take
ties ofH
from its effeeti. _
neuralgia. A fries
’s Royal Germetuer.
neu as the dally
„ 1 took ten bot-
and have not had an attack of either
n*ed the Germetuer In 1880. There
are many who will Ustlf y to thi*.
OB. SW ARSON.
K. B. G. Pills are the best, so pills 25 cents.
MAGNETIC NERVINE.
Is told with written
tesinmmaaaanaaniadP™ or refund th* money.
. issued only by our er-
Palhkx A Kinnkbriw.
Tom Axton was a somewhat stolid,
quiet, indnstnons, unsuspicious man.
He freqnently thought his wife a trifle
frivolous; but, on the whole, he rather
likedit
When he came home that night, the
door was opened to him by the servant
girl instead of by his wife, which was
unusual. There was panic in her face.
“Oh, sir!” she said, “have you seen
the missis?”
“The missis?” said Tom. “No. Isn’t
■ha here?”
“No, sir,” said the girl, looking as if
she were going to cry. “After yon left
this morning, sir, she took on awful, and
then she went away. I thought perhaps
she had gone to you, sir.”
Tom stood in the hallway without re
moving his coat.thunderstruck. Through
his unsuspicious mind flashed the cir
cumstances of the case. The check for
$800, the “taking on” and the depar-
Once more be
girL
“Did—did Mrs. Axton leave the house
alone?” he asked with some hesitation.
I think act,” said the girt, “but 1 don’t
know. I heard the front door does, and
awhile after I found that she was gone,
and when she did not come back to
lunch I did not know what to do."
“Oh, it is all right,” said Tom, with a
confidence he hibself waa fer from feel
ing. “I think I know where she has
gone. A friend of hers is ill. She has
very likely been detained. I will go and
bring her home.”
And so, putting on hishat.be resolved
to go down and see the man at the rail
road station. When he dosed the front
door behind him and went down "the
steps toward the gate, he saw in the
darknfes the figure of a woman who
seemed to have been loitering there and
who now hurried away.
As he came out into the street, some
thing of her evident desire not to he
seen convinced him that the retreating
figure waa that of his wife. He followed
quickly, and as soon as she noticed this
she broke into a run.
Now, Tom realized that it wag a risky
thing to ran after and overtake a flying
woman, especially if aha turned ont to
be the person of whom he was in search.
Bnt Tom was desperate, and he took the
risk.'
Seeing that ahecould not getaway,
she stopped at a lamppSst, leaning
against it, soA tm he came np to her he
heard .thanhuddering cry:
“Oh, Tom!” «
“Lillian,” he said hoarsely, grasping
her wrist, “what is the meaning of this?
Have you gone crazy?”
She leaned against the lamppost and
wept.
“OGIhe,” he said briefly, and without
resistance she accompanied him in si
lence, broken only by her sobs, back to
the house.
The girl let them in and at ouoe sur
mised by the grief of her mistress that
the friend who was ill hid died.
Tom led hia wife into their sitting room,
and there she sank into achair, oovaring
her face with her bands. She saw by
his stern demeanor that he suspected her
guilt.
He closed the door, then standing be
fore her said sternly:
“Lillian, I want an explanation.”
“Oh, Tom, Tom,” Sto said piteously.*
“Don’t look at me like that or I shall
never be able to tell you the truth,"
“You must tell me the truth, no xnat-
ter how I look.”
“That check, that check,” she moaned.
“Well, what about it? What has the
check to do with your going away?”
“The check,” she murmured, “is gone,”
“Who has it? Did you cash it, and
have yon lost the money!"
“I have lost the money,” she said,
“but I did not cash the check; It was
burned.”
“Burned! Who burned it?"
“Oh, I did it by accident, I was dry
ing the ink before the fire, and somehow
it caught, and I had not preaenoe of
mind enough to save it."
“But what has all that to do with youy
running away?’
She looked up at him iq surprise,
“It has everything to do with it,” she
said. “I could not face you after losing
$800.”
“Good gracious, Lillian," he cried, 9
light breaking in upon him. “You surer
ly don’t imagine you have lost anything
by the horning of the check?"
“Waa it not for $200?’ sho asked
surprise.
Tom’s overstrained feelings gave way.
He sat down on the chair and laughed.
“Lillian,” he said at last, “is that all?”
“All!” she cried, astonished at his be
havior. “Is that not enough when we
have so little money?”
“My dear girl,” he said, rising and
kissing her, “tiie check is but a piece of
paper. It is not .like a bank note. The
burning of a check is nothing. It pnly
puts me to the trouble of writing an
other. Ignorance maybe bliss, but it
has given me a very bad half an hour."'
“Dear me,” said the little woman,
looking at him with wide eyes. “What
in the world did yon suspect?”
“Nothing,” said Tom.—Luke Sharp in
Detroit Free Press.
tore.
- Tom threw himself down, with his
overcoat still on, in the armchair by the
fire and tried to think over the situa
tion. The absolute uselessness of start
ing out in the night and trying to find
her was the first thing that impressed
itself upon him. He shrank from giving
notice to the police. The ticket seller at
tiie railroad station knew his wife and
A Common Word.
“Did yon ever notice," said Hicks, “how
men and womenget hold of some single
word which they use an every, possible oo-
canon?” *
“Idon’tknowthat I’ve noticed it,"ob
served Parker. *
“I have,” put in little Johnny Hicks.
“Pa and ma have one they’re using all day
long.” • »■. -
“What word Is that?” asked Parker, with
a smile. *
“Don’t,?! said Johnny.—Truth.
VICTORY.
He gains a victory who can.
Say bravely to his (
“Forgive me: I was wrong.”
No casta he saerlflcee when
Pride's crooked path he leaves
And owns his fsnlt with tongne or pen—
A triumph he achieves. 1
—Susie M. Best in Philadelphia Ledger.
A. G. ELDER,
37 CLAYTON STREET,
A« G - # ELDER,
37 CLAYTON STREET,
A. G. ELDER,
87 CLAYTON STREET,
. Bnocinltv of Kancv Groe Has the purest and freshestlJCanned
Makes a specialty of Dancy tiro* Qo3d8 f Fanfiy . 0ikes, Crackers,
Pickles, Jellies, Etc.
TELEPHONE 71.
cerles. Prompt delivery.
TELEPHONE 71.
Will sell you the purest and best
Fancy Candies, and handles the
Choicest Cigars and Tobacco. 1
►
- . •
TELEPHONE 71.
37
CLAYTON STREET,
IS THE PLACE TO BUY Your GROCERIES.
TELEPHONE! 71.