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OUR YOUNG FOLKS.
GKANDFATUEB KNOW.
BY CATERIN'K S. HALBERU.
Grandfather Snow came down, one day,
And what do you think?
And what do you think?
He’s as old as the hills, but bis heart is gay,
And over the country he sped away.
His hair was as white as a cotton ball;
And what do you think?
And what do you think?
He gaily pranced over the highest wall,
For his dear old legs weren’t stiff*at alL
Wherever he went he raised a breeze;
Aud what do you think*
And what do you think?
He climbed to the tops of the tallest trees,
As cool and nimble as ever you please!
A train went thundering over the ground,
And what do you think?
And what do you think?
Old Grandther after it went with a bound —
Sly old fellow! he made no sound.
He caught the cars and he held on tight;
And what do you think?
Aud what do you think?
The train had to stop in the road all night,
And couldn’t go on till broad daylight!
Old as he was, he stayed out late!
And what do you think?
And what do you think?
He sat on the posts of the door-yard gate,
And danced on the fence at a high old rate!
But the children cheered for Grandfather still;
And what do you think?
And what do you thina?
He spread himself out on the top of a hill,
And they all coasted down ou his back with a
will!
He was none too old for a grand go-bang!
And what do you think?
And what do you think?
T«» !h*» tops of Si,*, highest roofs he rprang,
And down on the people he slid with a whang!
He had no manners, ’tis sad to sayl
And what do you think?
And what do you think?
For a chap like him to get in the way,
And trip up people by night and day ?
But his heart was white and pure within;
Now what do you think?
Now what do you think ?
To be glad and iolly is never a sin,
For a long-faeeo Granther I care not a pin.
We none of us know what tee should do;
Now what do you think?
Now what do you think?
If toe only came down for a month or two,
And couldn’t stay here the whole year through.
TIBS. BRIGG’S CLERK.
He was a tall, thin, starred-looking
boy, with a little jacket, the sleeves of
which crept half way up his arms, anil a
hat that was nothing but a brim; and
when she first saw him he was eating a
crust out of the gutter. She was only a
poor old woman who kept a little shop
for candy and trimmings; but as she
said, he looked a little like what her Tom
might, if he had grown up and been
neglected, and she couldn’t stand it.
She called to him;
“Come here, sonny.”
And the boy came. Before she could
speak again, he said:
“I didn’t do it. I ain’t so mean.”
“Didn’t do what?” said the oid wo
man.
“Break your winder,” said the boy,
nodding toward a shattered pane.
“Why, I broke that myself with my
shutter, last night,” said the old woman.
“I’m not strong enough to lift 'em, that’s
the fact. I’m getting old. ”
“If I’m round when you shut up, I'll
come and do it for you,” said the boy.
“I’d just as soon. What was that you
wanted me for ?”
: f wrtnfeo 67 know \\iVi?you are thftt
dry crust of bread out of the gutter for,”
said she.
“Hungry,” said he; ‘ ‘I've tried to get
a job all day. I’m going to sleep in an
area over there when it gets too dark for
a policeman to see; and you eau’t have a
good night’s sleep without some supper,
even if it is dirty.”
“I’ll give yon some that’s cleaner,”
said the old woman.
“That will be begging,” said he.
“No,” said she, “you can sweep the
shop and the pavement and put up the
shutters for it ”
“Very well,” said he. “Thankee,
then. If I sweep up first I’ll feel better.”
Accordingly she brought him out a
broom, aud he did his woik well. After
ward he ate his supper with a relish.
That night he slept not in the area, but
under the old woman’s counter.
He had told her his story. His name
was Dick; he was twelve years old, and
his father, whom he had never seen, was
in prison for life.
The antecedents were not elevating;
but tbs boy seemed good. The next
morning the old woman engaged a clerk
for her small establishment. The terms
were simple—his “living and a bed un
der the counter.”
When the neighbors heard of it, they
were shocked. A street boy—a boy no
one knew! Did Mrs. Briggs really wish
to be murdered in her bed? She had so
much time now that she was going to
take in sewing. Dick attended to the
shop altogether. He kept it in fine or
der, and had increased the business by
introducing candies, dates, etc. Pennies
came in as they never came in before,
since he had painted signs in red and
bine ink to the effect that the real old
molasses candy was to be had there, and
that this was the place for peanuts.
Aud in the evening, after the shop was
shut up, she began to take him into her
confidence. Her great dream was to buy
herself into a certain home for the aged.
It would cost her a hundred dollars. She
had saved three years, and had fifteen of
it. But it cost so much to live, with tea
twenty-five cents a quarter, and loaves
so small, and she had been sick, and
there was the doctor and Mrs. Jones’
Martha Jane to be paid for minding her
and the shop. After this Dick took the
greatest interest in the savings, aud the
winter months increased them as though
he had brought a blessing.
One night in spring they took tlio bag
from under the pillow, and counted what
it held. 11 was thirty dollars.
“And I’ll begin to make kites to-mor
row, Mrs. Briggs, and.you’11 see the cus
tom that it will bring.”
“You are a clever boy yourself,” said
the old woman, and pressed his hand.
It was a plumper hand than it had been
when it picked the crusts from the gut
ter, and he wore clean, whole garments,
though they were very course.
“How wrong the' neighbors were,”
she said. "That boy is the comfort of
my life ”
So she went to bed with the treasure
under tier pillow and slept. Far on in
the night she was awakened. The room
was utterly dark—there was not a ray of
light—but she heard a step on the floor.
“Who is that?” she cried.
There was no riiswct, but she felt that
some one was leaning over her bed.
Then a band clasped her throat and held
her down, and dragged out the bag of
money, aud she was released. Half suf
focated, she for a moment found herself
motionless and bewildered, conscious
only of a draught of air from an open
door, and some confused noises.
Then she sprang to the door and hur
ried into the shop.
“Dick! Dick!” she cried. “Dick!
Dick! help! wake up! I’m robbed!”
But there was no answer, The door
into the street was wide open, and by
the moonlight that poured through it she
saw, as she peered under the counter,
that Dick’s bed was empty. The boy
was gone.
Gone! gone! Oh, that was worse to
poor Granny Briggs than even the loss
of the money; for she had trusted him,
and he had deceived her. She had loved
him and he had abused her love. The
neighbors were right; she was a fool to
trust a strange street-boy, and had been
served rightly when he had robbed her.
When the dawn broke, the wise neigh
bors came into poor Granny’s shop to
find her erviug and rocking to and fro;
and they told her they had told her so,
aud she ODly shook her head. The shop
took care of itself that day. Life had
lost its interest for her. Her “occupa
tion was gone,” but not with her savings.
Money was but money, after all. He
bad come to be the only thing she loved,
and Dick had robbed her.
It was 10 o’clock. Granny sat moan
ing by the empty hearth. Good-natured
Mrs. Jones from upstairs was ‘ ‘seeing to
things,” and trying to cheer her, when
snddenJ(r there was a rap on the door,
and a policeman looked in.
“Mrs. Briggs,” he said.
“Here she is,” said Mrs. Jones.
“Some one wants to see you at head
quarters,” said the policeman. “There’s
a boy there and some money. ”
“Dick!” cried Mrs. Briggs. “Ob, I
can’t bear to look at him!”
But Mrs. Jones had already tied on
her bonnet and wrapped her in a shawl,
and taken her on her arm.
"The wretch!” she said. “I'm so glad
he is caught. You’ll get your money
back.”
And she led Mrs. Briggs along—poor
Mrs. Briggs, who cried all the way, and
cared nothing for the money. And soon
they were at their destination; then, and
not before, the policemen turned to the
two women.
“He’s pretty bad,” he said. “They’ll
take him to the hospital in an hour. I
suppose you are prepared for that. He
is nearly beaten to death, you know.”
“Did you beat him, you cruel wretch?”
said Mrs. Briggs. “I would not have
hail that done for twice the money. Let
him go with it, if it is any comfort to
him. ”
“I beat him!” said the man. “Why,
if I hadn’t got up there when I did he’d
have been dead. He held the bag of
money tight, and the thief was pumeling
him with a loaded stick; and the pluck
he had for a little one—I tell you I
never saw the like!”
“ ‘You shan’t take Granny's money
from her,’ says he, and fought like a lit
tle tiger. If it's your money, old lady,
he's given his life for it, for all I know.”
Then poor old Mrs. Briggs clapped
her hands and cried:
“Oh, Dick! Dick! I knew you were
good. I must have been crazy to doubt
you,” and "then she wrung her hands and
cried: “Oh, Dick! for just a paltry bit
of money!” aud so she knelt beside the
pale face upon the pillow, aud kissed it,
and called it tender names.
And Dick, never guessing her sus
picions of him, whispered:
“I was so fraid he’d get off with it if
he killed me, Granny, and you in such
high hopes last night, ”
He did not know what she meant by
begging him to forgive her. It would
have fared ill with him if he had, for he
was very near death.
But Dick did not die. Ho got well at
last, and came back to the little shop;
and though Granny Briggs had her sav
ings, she never went to the Old Ladies’
Home; for long before she died Dick was
one of the most prosperous merchants in
the city, and his handsome home was
hers, and she was very happy in it.
—Primitive Met. hodist.
Mr. Lane’s Mistake.
It is amusing how knock-kneed some
people are in their hearing—never get
anything exactly right. The other
morning, up at the revival meeting,
while urging the “almost persuaded”
among his hearers to come forward and
join the salvation army, Mr. Moody
said:
“Let any still doubting sinner among
you come right up on the platform here,
aud I will wrestle witli him.”
In the fervency of his invocation, Mr.
M. did not perceive a man climb up out
of the audience and take off’ his coat
with scientific calmness. The stranger
was Mr. Homer Lane, the champion
collar and elbow wrestler of the United
States, and he had just caught the great
rc-vivaUst a catcli-as-catch-can hiplock,
and about flipping him over the me-
lodeon when Mr. Sankey interfered and
the matter was explained, Mr. Lane be
ing much impressed by the jolly and
amiable manner in wliicn his apologies
were accepted by the great campaigners
against the old original spine twister
himself.—Derrick Dodd.
Why He Wept.
As an illustration of the ease with
which the one step can be taken from
the sublime to the ridiculous, the fol
lowing anecdote of the great French
caricaturist, “ Cham,” is good:
Once they were talking before “Cham”
of the effect of a powerful painting upon
the mind, and some one said enthusias
tically, “ The painter with his brush can
bring tears to the eye as well as the poet
with his lyre.”
“That is indeed true,” replied M. ds
Noe; “I was in Ary Scheffer’s studio
yesterday and lie was showing me one of
his pictures, and though I am not usu
ally in the meliing mood, I fairly wept
for ten minutes.”
“Ah, I had heard that Scheffer was
treating a very pathetic subject, and
you found his wonderful brush 1 ’—
“Oh, that isn't it—he stuck his won
derful brush in my eye while gesticulat
ing.”
The highest mark of esteem a woman
can give to a man is to ask his friend
ship, and the most signal proof of her
indifference is to offer him hers.—Gil
bert.
The Worship of Humanity!
The “worship of humanity” has now
in London a chapel, a priest, and a ritual.
Its chapel is situated in a dingy street,
and is a small room capable of contain
ing a hundred persons. Its sole decora
tions are engravings, busts, mottoes, and
flowers; its pulpit a small desk above
which is an engraving of the Dresden
Madonna—mother and child having been
Comtek highest type of humanity.
Compto, the founder of the Positivist, oi
Humanity School, redivided the year,
into thirteen months which he named
respectively Moses, Homer, Arisotlej
Arcliimedes, Csesor, 8t. Paul, Oliarloj-
magne, Dante, Gutenberg, Shakspeara
Descartes, Frederick the Great, ana
Bichat, representing ancient poetry,
philosophy, science and government,
Catholicism; and modem poetry,:
philosophy, industry, science, govern]
ment, etc. Busts of these persons adorn
the room, together with engravings o|
Osesar, Archimedes, Scipio, Plato, Aristoj
tie, Pythagoras, Virgil, Homer, Com
fucius, Paul, St. Bernard, Aquinas,
Mohammed, Charlemagne, Shakspeare,
Dante, Milton, Louis XI., Columbus,
Hume, Bacon, Moliere, Mozart, Sid
many other worthies.
There are now about sixty worshiper^
in London belonging to the religion of
Humanity, but even that number is an
increase; for some years ago Profess®
Jewett, visiting them, said he found
there “three persons and no God.” TIB
‘ ‘Festival of Holy Women” was celebralM
ou the day when Mr. Conway, who
writes an interesting letter about it, was
present, and the discourse of the Priest,
Dr. Congreve, a scholarly, white-haired
man, pertained to eminent and holy
women of the past—St. Monica, Beatrice,
Heloisc, Joan of Arc, and others. He
read George Eliot’s famous Positivist
hymn, “O, Might I Join the Choir In
visible,” and lessons from the “Imita
tion of Christ,” by Thomas a Kempis, a
volume which, after her death, was
found by George Eliot’s side. Prayers
are offered to the “Great Power whom
we here acknowledge as the Highest
Humanity.” There is also a ritual, with
prayers, and a benediction as follows;
“The Faith of Humanity, The Hope of
Humanity, The Love of Humanity, bring
you comfort, and teach you sympathy,
give you peace in yourselves and peace
with others, now and forever, Amen.”
Dr. Congreve, the priest, has distin
guished himself for his sympathies in
behalf of all the popular movements, and
his opposition to slavery aud all oppres
sion; of the French under Napoleon III.;
the wars of England against Afghans,
Zulus, Boers, and other weak and help
less people; and has just delivered and
published a forcible discourse in favor of
granting Irish independence.
Many, if not most, of the disciples of
Comte’s philosophy, like John Stuart
Mill, George Henry Lewes, George
Eliot, John Morley, editor of the Fort
nightly Jteview, have never approved
of the religious or ritualistic phase of
Positivism, and whatever progress it has
made has been a mental and inwardlh-
fluence upon the thought of the tine,
and not the buildiufj up of a sect, or
even a congregation,
Concerning Bedrooms.
A" physician was called to presci^)
for a young lady who lives in one of the
most charming villas in Leamedville.
“Nothing the matter with her,” she
declared, “nothing but terrible head
aches.” Every morning she waked with
a headache and it lasted nearly half the
day. It had been going on for months
—ever since they moved into their new
house. The doctor tried all the old
remedies and they all failed. Biding
and archery were faithfully tested, study
and practice were cheerfully given up.
Nothing did any good.
“ Will you let me see your bedroom?”
asked the doctor one day, and he was
shown up into the prettiest little nest
imaginable.
Nothing wrong about the ventilation.
The windows were high and broad, and
were left open every night, the patient
said. The bed stood in one comer
against the wall.
“How do you sleep?” said the doc
tor.
‘ ‘ On my right side, at the back of the
bed, with my face to the wall. Lou likes
the front best. ”
“The dickens she does!” says the
doctor, “ So do I. Will you do me the
favor to wheel that bed into the middle
of the room and sleep so for a week ?
Then let me know about the headache.”
Doctors are so absurd? The middle
of the room, indeed ! And there were
the windows on one side, and the two
doors on the two other Bides, and the
mantel with its Macrame lambrequin ou
the fourth side. There was no place for
the bed but just where it stood, in the
corner.
“Never mind ! Sacrifice your lam
brequin,” urged the doctor—“just fora
week you know. ”
The lambrequin was sacrificed, the
bed moved where it had free air on With
sides, and the headaches disappeared
It may be only an exceptionally del
icate systor-'. that would bo induced to
actual headache by breathing all night
the reflected air from a wall. Yet pos
sibly some of the morning dullness we
know of may be traceable to a like cause.
At any rate, plenty of breathing space
around a bed can only be an advantage
to everybody.
Two Women Wedded.
The Boston Herald prints the follow
ing strange story from a correspondent
at Dover, N. H., and it is given for
what it is worth. The writer vouches
for its truthfulness: Ten years ago two
persons were united in marriage by a
Congregational clergyman of this State.
The ceremony was performed in a small
town not many miles from this city.
They lived together as husband and wife
for more than nine years, having resided
in several different places, a part of the
time in this place. A few months ago
the wife petitioned for a divorce on the
ground that her husband was a woman.
On examination it was found to be as she
had said. That she dressed in female
apparel when she first became acquainted
with her, but told her Rlie was a man.
It was proved that she was the divorced
wife of a merchant of New York, and
had one chi'id.
SCRAPS OF SCIENCE.
TAat lightning does so little damage in
large cities is said to be explained by the
fact that the many telegraph and other
wires, and large quantify of iron in use
in building, ere., dissipates the electrio
fluid as it approaches the earth.
Anatomy is one of the oldest sciences.
Ever since man was man has man been
studying man. Hippocrates, who lived
460 before Christ, was famous for his
knowledge of anatomy, though he was
densely ignorant compared to the learn
ing of Aristotle and some later students.
A remarkable instance of devotion to
science is furnished in the case of an
English physician in Pernambuco, who
caused himself to be bitten by a rattle
snake, with a view of discovering a rem
edy against its bite. He, fortunately,
recovered, to give his fellow-men the
benefits of his experience.
The rains of a once magnificent bath
ing establishment have been recently
discovered by Professor Giuseppe Novi,
not far from Herculaneum. They are
covered with a layer of ashes and lava of
ten meters in thickness. What has been
brought to light up to the present is said
to eclipse all previous discoveries of a
similar nature both in Herculaneum and
Pompeii. The fountains and tanks of
these “Terme” are made of Oriental
granite and adorned with sculptures.
The floors are of colored glass mosaic;
unfortunately it is but badly preserved.
TVva ■vralis varisycis VaMwrgs sit
elegantly ornamented with paintings and
stucco-work. The excavations are to be
continued.
At Zurich, Switzerland, where the
Siemens crematory furnace has been in
troduced, there is a distinct stipulation
that the ashes of the dead must remain
in separate urns at the crematory fur
nace for twenty years. At the end oi
that time the nearest of kin to the de
ceased may take the urn to his dwelling,
and if this is not done the ashes are in
terred. Before a body is burned every
precaution is taken by the authorities to
ascertain that no crime has been com
mitted. Other furnaces of the same
type are in use at Breslau, Dresden, and
Gotha. Indeed, throughout Germany
the prejudice against disposing of a
dead body by burning is rapidly disap
pearing. The furnace named will consume
a body in an hour and a half without
causing any odor or sound. It costs
about 85,000. The weight of the ashes
varies from three and one quarter to
seven pounds.
The fan is of very ancient origin.
Tracing its history, the Journal
D'Hygiene states that the papyrus was
one of the first plants used in making
fans. In ancient Greece the first fans
were made of branches of myrtle, acacia,
and plane-tree. It was not until the
fifth century, B. G., that the peacock
was known ’ in Greece, and from this
epoch dates the use among Grecian
ladies of the peacock’s tail as a new and
elegant kind of fan. As the fan-maker’s
art extended, the use of feathers alone
became discarded, as they were found
too pliable, and the idea was conceived
of placing between each pair of feathers
a thin strip of wood. Fans are often
mentioned in Latin authors. Plautus
refers to the flahclifferrce. o$■ female
slaves, who carried parasols and fans to
shade and drive away the flies from their
mistresses. Fans of peacock’s feathers
remained in fashion through the middle
ages np to the seventeenth century, not
only in Italy, but in England and France.
Fans of ostrich feathers came into favor
gradually, excluding those of peacock
feathers, and such fans appear in Titian’p.
pictures. Leaves of palm trees, reeds,
anil odoriferous woods are among the
substances of which fans are now made
in foreign countries.
An act by which we make one friend
and one enemy is a losing game, because
revenge is a much stronger principle than
gratitude.
An American Authoress to Marry an
. English Lord.
The Home correspondent of the Phil
adelphia Bulletin writes: Before all
other matters I must mention a piece of
news which will be interesting to voui
readers. Amongst the American society
of Home at present there is a young
American lady of twenty-five years of
age whose name is Miss Fletcher. It is
no sin to write her name in full, because
Miss Fletcher is somewhat of a public
character, having written a book which
has met with success and insured for its
authoress an honorable place in present
literature. She had, therefore, a pleas
ant and productive career before her. I
say had, because it has pleased an Eng
lish nobleman, Lord Wentworth, to in
terrupt that career and to offer, instead
of a laurel crown, a more substantial one
in theshapeof acountess’ coronet, which
Miss Fletcher has wisely accepted, to
gether with the heart and hand of the
noble lord. So little Miss Fletcher, as
she was called last winter, becomes next
month an English peeress, and those who
care for rank and titles well know that
an English peeress, in the aristocracy of
Europe, ranks above an Italian princess,
or a German baroness, or a French duch
ess. Here is, then, our little Miss
Fletcher at the head, not only of Roman
society but of European society in gen
eral. “And she isn’t a bit pretty!” ex
claim the envious. “No. But she is a
bright, sparkling girl—and that is bet
ter,” say the gentlemen. Afterall, they
are the best judges of the good points ill
the fair sex. I can state, however, that
Miss Fletcher, if not quite as beautiful
as most American women (who came
over here to astonish our eyes), has
lovely golden hair, and this alone would
be a great charm, even if she had no
other. The marriage will be celebrated
at the British Embassy. Good luck to
her.
The value of Erie Canal tonnage last
year was $300,000,000. The wheat acre
age of the West, which principally made
this business, was more than two and a
half million acres more than in 1879, and
a like increase of acreage ,is expected
this year. Although the paid tolls on
the canal of $113,000 a year were abol
ished, the toll receipts have leaped up
nearly $300,000. The cost of keeping
ap the canal is $900,000, and the
revenues last year were $1,200,-
000, making a surplus of over $300,-
000. Before the State of New
York discriminated in favor of the
canals their business had run down to
700,000 tons in twelve months; and since
that liberalizing of rates, the canals do
2,000,000 tons more business, and there
has been a consequent lowering of tolls
on the railroads.
Works of Art Free !
WITH
AS PER TERMS BELOW.
HWplj 9fn$n’s (|rcflt paintings
— OF —
HOMEWARD, (Or, “The Curfew,”) AND FARM-YARD, (at Sunset.)
THESE COMPANION PICTURES 1IAVK BEEN
Stein-copied in Black and Two Tints in a high grade of that Art. The very artistic
tinting has produced the most perfect and pleasing twilight and sunset effects.
SIZE OF SHEET, 22 x 28 INCHES; PRINTED AND TINTED SURFACE, 17 1-2 x 21 1*2 INCHES.
Published at $2.00 each | $4.00 per Pair.
In successful combination of Rural Scenery with happy Farm Life, and
exalted poetic sentiment, they have never been excelled by
the brush of American Art.
These miniature wood cuts but faintly suggest the beauty and merit of the large
copies.
The Curfew Tolls the Knell of Parting Day.
Gray’s Elegy.
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i opjngbl lfc74, by Joeeph John.
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•* The curfew toll* the knell of parting (lay, I The ploughman nomewarutiuumi«. »«.,;’ " “rf
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the It-a i I And leaves the world to darkness and to ine.
“Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight.”
*
Give Me the Joys of a Peaceful Country
Home.
t 1571, by JoMph John.
“ Give me the joys of a peaceful country home. 1 }X^ rre h hc
From the City’s fevered brain afar remote, ! W hero Summer reddens, aud
So grandly c-owned with sickle and golden sluat.
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a rural life e’er flow,
beams the rich Autumn
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t> each of our Subscribsra ai follows: Kir<t,—To all present subtcriber* who pay ail ar-
re rage* an 1 one yedr’.* subscription ($2) in aivmce. SECOND.— To all New Subscribers
w o pay one year's sutucription in advance. Third.—A pictu'e free to every one for
e?e*v four new yearly ca h Subscribers obtained. Also one to every such Subscriber,
ALL who receive one as a prmieu-n should possess the other, as they are cjmpau-
ion pieces. F :r such other picture ; wanted, and for presents to friends, remit fifty cents
add tional for each opy and possess a piir of charming works, that you will ever highly
priz}. N. B. Those who have recently pai l their subscription can remit on« dollar and
recive the match pictures by m lib Olher th m subscribers must pay the Publisher's stans
dard price, $4 per pair. P)sta<e in all ewes prepaid by us, and the pictures warranted
afely through, and satisfaction guaranteed,
Address D. B. CL A. YTON, Editor 6a
THE NEW VICTOR.
SIMPLICITY SIMPLIFIED!
Improvements September, 1878.
Notwithstanding the YICTOB hoc long been tha
peer of any Sewing Machine in the maiket—a fact
supported by a host of volunteer witnesses—we now
confidently claim for it greater simplicity,
a wonderful reduction of friction ana a raro
combination of desirable qualities. Its shut
tle is a beautiful specimen of mechanism,
and takes rank with the highest achievement*
■of inventive genius. Note.—Wedonotleaso
! or consign Machines, therefore, have no old
ones to patch np and re-vamish for our
customers.
We Sell New Machines Every Time;
Send for Illustrated Circular and prices. Liberal terms to the trade. Don’t buy
until you have seen the <
Most Elegant, Simple and Easy’ Running Machine in^the]
Market.—The Ever Reliable VICTOR.
VICTOR SEWING MACHINE COMPANY,-—
Western Branch Office, 235 State St., Chicago, III. MIDDLETOWN, CONS*.
“CLiSt *2
fattened
MMUriurutt Sim* Saar,
* PAa.../fear, fawm. of PXd • £ \
“ Jfutm yfdCeX- <£p Gfc. f“7* y