Decatur Democrat, Volume 35, Number 16, Decatur, Adams County, 10 July 1891 — Page 7

Confirmed. The favorable impression produced on the first appearance of the- agreeable liquid fruit remedy. Syrup ot Figs, a few years ago. has been more than confirmed by the pleasant experience of all who have used it. and the success of the proprietors and manufacturers, the California Fig Syrup H Company. Is Four Draught Good? There, is no doubt but the form of a roof has much to do with the draught ol a chimney. The flat roof offers no resistance to the passage of air, but as the pitch is increased the current is more and more disturbed, until with a highpitched and many-gabled roof it is broken into innumerable eddies, some of which are sure to euri down and force the smoke and gases in the flue into the rooms below. Chimneys. on such roofs should be built higher than ordinarily.— Scientific American. TIIE WABASH LINE. H-andsome equipment. E-legant day coaches, and W-agner palace sleeping cars A-re in daily service B-etween the city of St. Louis A-nd New York and Boston. 8-pacious reclining chair cars H-ave no equal ' Ir ike those run by the I-ncomparable and only Wabash. N-ew trains and fast time i E-very day in the year. From East to West the sun’s bright ray. Smiles on the line that leads the way. MAGNIFICENT VESTIBULE EXPRESS* TRAINS, running free reclining chair cars gnd palace sleepers to St. Louis, Kansas City, and Council Bluffs. The direct route to all points in Missouri, Kansas, Nebraska. lowa, Texas, Indian Territory, Arkansas, Colorado, Utah. Wyoming, Washington. Montana, and California. For rates, routes, maps, etc., apply to any ticket agent or address F. Chakdleb, Gen. Pass, and Ticket Agent, fit. Louis. Mo. Down In the Mine*. The workmen in the deepest mines of Europe swelter in almost intolerable heat, and yet they have never penetrated over one seven-thousandth part of the distance from the surface to the center of the earth. I n the lower levels of some of the Comstock mines the men fought scalding water, and could labor only three or four hours at a time until the Sutro tunnel pierced the mines and drew off some of the terrible heat. Ladies employed in fashionable stores, whose duties keep them standing all day. should send two 2c stamps to Pinkham Medicine Co.. Lynn. Mass., tor "Guide to Health and Etiquette." An Artificial Man. A man named Jones was recently fitted out with two glass eyes, a complete set of false upper and lower teeth, and an artificial nose, in a New York Hospital. Impube blo<sd Is the primary cause of the majority of diseases to which the human family is subject. The blood in passing through the system visits every portion ot the body—if pure, carrying strength and vitality; if impure, disease and death. Blood poisoning is most dangerous. Prickly Ash Bitters will render the last impossible, and will regulate the system so that health will be a sure result. Russian Feasants’ Lands. Russian Peasants will be prohibited by law shortly from selling or mortgaging their lands. FITS.—AU Fits stopped free by Dr. Kline’s Great Nerve Restorer. No Fits after first day’s use. Marvellous cures. Treatise and $2.00 trial bottle free to Fit cases. Send to Dr. Kline, 931 Arch SL.Puila., Pa. The only heavy burdens are those we try to carry ourselves.

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GOD’S MYSTERIOUS RULE 1 RAIN USED BY X>R. TALMAGE AS A COMMON ILLUSTRATION. God Is Infinity in Infinitesimals as Much as in Things Infinitely Great, In Our Everyday Sorrows as in the World’s Erection. Dr. Talmage’s sermon last Sunday was from the text, “Hath the rain a father?” Job xxxviii, 28. This book of Job has been the subject of unbounded theological wrangle. Men have made it the ring in which to display their ecclesiastical pugilism. Some say that the Book of Job is a true history; others, that it is an allegory; others,that it is an epic poem; others, that it is a drama. Some say that Job lived eighteen hundred years before Christ; others say that he never lived at all. Some say that the author of this book was Job; others, David; others,Solomon. The discussion has landed some in blank infidelity. Now I have no trouble with the books of Job or Revelation —the two most mysterious books in the Bible —because of a rule I adopted some years ago. I wade down into a Scripture passage as long as I can touch bottom, and when I cannot, then I wade out I used to wade in until it was over my head, and then I got drowned. I study a passage of Scripture so long as it is a comfort and help to my but when it becomes a perplexity and a spiritual upturning, I quit In other words, we ought to wade in up to our heart but never wade in until it is over our head. No man should ever expect to swim across this great ocean of divine truth. I go down into that ocean as Igo down into the Atlantic Ocean at East Hampton, Long Island, just far enough to bathe, then I come out I never had any idea that •frith my weak hand and foot I could strike my way clear over to Liverpool. I suppose you understand your family genealogy. You know something about your parents, your grandparents, your great-grandparents. Perhaps you know where they were born or where they died. Have you ever studied the parentage of the shower? “Hath the rain a father?” This question is not asked by a poetaster or a scientist, but by the Head of the Universe. To humble and to save Job God asks him fourteen questions; about the world’s architecture, about the refractions of the sun’s rays, about the tides, about the snow crystal, about the lightnings, and then he arraigns him with the interrogation of the text, “Hath the rain a father?” With the scientific wonders of the rain I have nothing to do. A minister gets through with that kind of sermons within the first three years, and if he has piety enough he gets through with it in the first three months. A sermon has come to me to mean one word of four letters, “help!” You all know that the rain is not an orphan. You know that it is not cast out of the gates of Heaven a foundling. You would answer the question of my text in the affirmative. Safely housed during the storm you hear therain beating against the window pane, and you find it searching all the crevices' of the window sill. It first comes down in solitary drops, pattering the.dust, and then it deluges the fields and angers the mountain torrents, and makes the traveler implore shelter. You know that the rain is not an accident of the world’s economy. You know it was born of the cloud. You know it was rocked in the cradle of the wind. You know it was sung to sleep by the storm. You know that it is a flying evangel from Heaven to earth. You know it is the gospel of the weather. You know that God is its Father. If this be true, then, how wicked is our murmuring about climatic changes. The first eleven Sabbaths after I entered the ministery it stormed. Through the week it was clear weather, but on the Sabbaths the old country meeting house looked like Noah’s ark before it landed. A few drenched people \sat before a drenched pastor, but most of the farmers stayed at home and thanked God that what was bad for the church was good for the crops. I committed a good deal of sin in those days in denouncing the Weather. Ministers of the Gospel sometimes fret about stormy Sabbaths or hot Sabbaths or inclement Sabbaths. They forgot the fact that the same God who ordained the Sabbath and sent forth his ministers to announce salvation, also ordained the weather. “Hath the rain a father?” Merchants, also, with their stores filled with new goods, and their clerks hanging idly around the counters, commit the same transgression. There have been seasons when the whole spring and fall trade has been ruined by protracted wet weather. The merchants then examined the “weather probabilities” with more interest than they read their Bibles. They watched for a patch of blue sky. They went complaining to the store and came complaining home again. In all that season of wet feet and dripping garments and impassable streets they never once asked the question, “Hath the rain a father.’ So agriculturists commit this sin. There is nothing more annoying than to have planted corn rot in the ground because of too much moisture, or hay all ready for the mow dashed of a shower, or wheat almost ready for the sickle spoiled with the rust. How hard it is to bear the agricultural disappointments. God has infinite resources, but I do not think he has capacity to make weather to please all the farmers. Sometimes it is too hot, or it is too cold; it is too wet, or it is too dry; it is too early, or it is too late. They forget that the God who promised seed time and harvest, summer and winter, cold and heat, also ordained all the climatic changes. There is one question that ought to be written on every barn, on every fence, on every haystack, on every farmhouse. “Hath the rain a father?” If we only knew what a vast enterprise it is to provide appropriate weather for this world we would not be so critical of the Lord. Isaac Watts, at 10 years of age, complained that he did not like the hymns that were sung in the English chapel. “Well,” said his father, “Isaac, instead of your complaining about the hymns go and make hymns that are better.” Andjhc did go and make hymns that were better. Now, I say to you, if you do not like the weather, get up a weather company, and have a president, and secretary, and a treasurer, and a board of directors, and ten million dollars of stock, and then provide weather that will suit all of us. There is a man who has a weak head, and he cannot stand the glare of the sun. You must have a cloud always hovering over him. I like sunshine; I can not live without plenty of sunlight, so you must always have enough light for me. The one is going to Southhampton, and the other is coming to New York. ’ Provide weather that, while it is abaft for one ship, it is a head wind for the other. There is a farm that is dried up for the lack of rain, and here is a pleasure party going out for a field excursion. Provide weather that will suit the dry farm and the pleasure excursion. No, sirs, I will not take one dollar of stock in your weather company* There Is only one Being in the universe who knows enough to provide the right kind of weather for this world. “Hath tho rain a father?” My text also suggests God’s minute supervise!. Yon see the divine Sonship In every drop of rain. The jewels of the V’

, j. —— shower are not flung away by a spendthrift who knows not how many he throws or where they fall. They are all shining princes of Heaven. They all have an eternal lineage. The/ are all the children of a king. “Hath the rain a father?” Well, then, I say if God takes notice of every minute rain’drop He will take notice of the most insignificant affair of my life. It is the astronomical view of things that bothers me. We look up into the night heavens and we say, “Worlds! worlds!” and how insignificant we feel! We stand at the foot of Mount Washington or Mont Blanc, and we feel that we are only insects, and then we say to ourselves, “Though the world is so large the sun is one million four hundred thousand times larger.” “Oh!” we say, “it is no use; if God wheels that great machinery through immensity He wil not take the trouble to look down at me!” Infidel conclusion. Saturn, Mercury, and Jupiter are no more rounded and weighed and swung by the hand of God than are the globules on a lilac bush the morning after a shower. God is no more in magnitudes than He is in minutiae. If He has scales to’Weigh the mountains He has balances delicate enough to weigh the infinitesiihal. You can no more see Him through the telescope than you can see Him through the microscope; no more when you look up than when you look down. Are not the hairs of your head all numbered? And if Himalaya has a God, “Hath not the rain a father?” I take this doctrine of a particular Providence, and I thrust it into the very midst of your everyday life. If God fathers a raindrop, is there anything so insignificant in your affairs that God will not father that? When Druyse, the gunsmith, invented the needle gun, which decided the battle of Sadowa, was it a®" mere accident? When a farmer’s boy showed Blucher a short cut by which he could bring his army up soon enough to decide Waterloo for England, was it a mere accident? When Lord Byron took a piece of money and tossed it up to decide whether or not he should be affianced to Miss Millbanks, was it a mere accident which side of the money was up and which was down? When the Christian army were besieged at Beziers, and a drunken drummer came in at midnight and rang the alarm bell, not knowing wuat he was doing, but waking up the host in time to fight their enemies that moment arriving, was it an accident? ® When, in one of the Irish wars, a starving mother, flyng with her starving child, sank down and fainted on the rocks in the night and her hand fell on a warm bottle of milk, did that just happen so? God is either in the affairs of men, or our religion is worth nothing at all, and you had better take it away from us; and instead of this Bible, which teaches the doctrine, give us a secular book, and let us, as the famous Mr. Fox, the member of Parliament, in his last hour, cried out, “Read me the eighth book of Virgil.” Oh, my friends, let us rouse up to an appreciation of the fact that all the affairs ot our life are under a King’s command and under a Father’s watch. Alexander’s war horse. Bucephalus, would allow anybody to mount him when he was unharnessed, but as soon as they put on that war horse Bucephalus, the saddle and the trappings of the conquerer, he would allow ho one but Alexander to touch him. And if, a Soulless horse could have so much pride in his owner, shall not we immortals exult in the fact that we are owped by a King? “Hath the rain a father?” Again, my subject teaches me that God’s dealings with us are inexplicable. That was the original force of my text. The rain was a great mystery to the ancients. They could not understand how the water should get into the cloud, and getting there, how it should bo suspended, or falling, why it should come down in drops. Modern science comes along and says there are two portions of air of different temperature, and they are charged with moisture, and the one portion of air decreases in temperature so the water may no longer be held in vapor and it falls. And they tell us that some of the clouds that look to be only as large as a man’s hand, and to be almost quiet in the heavens, are great mountains of mist 4,000 feet from base to top, and that they rush miles a minute. But after all the brilliant experiments of Dr. James Hutton and Saussure and other scientists, there is an infinite mystery about the rain. There is an ocean of the unfathomable in every raindrop, and God said to-day as he said in the time of Job, “If you cannot understand one drop of rain, do not be surprised if my dealings with you are inexplicable.” Why does that aged man, decrept, beggared, vicious, sick of the world, and tho world sick of him, live on, while here is a man in midlife, consecrated to God, hard working, useful in every respect, who dies? Why does that old gossip, gadding along the street about everybody’s business but her own, have such good health, while.the Christian mother, with a flock of little ones about her whom she is prepreparing for usefulness and for Heaven—the mother who think could not be spared an hour from that household—why does she lie down and die with a cancer? Why does that man, selfish to the core, go on adding fortune to fortune, consuming everything on himself, continue to prosper, while that man who has been giving 10 per-cent, of all his income to God and the church ! goes into bankruptcy? Before we make stark fools of our- I selves let us stop pressing this everlasting “why.” Let us worship where we cannot understand. Let a man take that one question, “Why?” and follow it far enough, and push it, and he will land in wretchedness and perdition. We want in Our theology fewer interrogation marks and more exclamation points. Heaven is the place for explanation. Earth is the place for trust. If you cannot understand so minute a thing as a raindrop, how can you expect to understand God’s dealings? “Hath the rain a father?” Again, my text makes me think that the rain of tears is of divine origin. Great clouds of trouble sometimes hover over us. They are black, and they are gorged, and they are thunderous. They [ are more portentous than Salvador or i Claude ever painted—clouds of poverty ior persecution or bereavement. They hover over us, and* get darker and blacker, and after a while a tear starts, and we think by an extra pressure of the eyelid to stop it. Others follow, after a while there is a shower of tearful emotion. Yea, there is a rain of tears. “Hath that rain a father?” “Oh,” you say, “a tear is nothing but a drop of limpid fluid secreted by the lachrymal gland—is only a sign of weak eyes.” Great mistake. It is one of the Lord’s richest benedictions to the world. There are people in Blackwell’s Island insane asylum, and at Unica, and at all the asylums of this land, who were demented by the fact that they could not cry at the right time. Said a maniac in one of our public institutions, under a Gospel sermon that started the tears: “Do you see that tear? That is the first I have wept for twelve years. I think It will help my brain.” There are a great many in the grave who could not stand any longer under the glacier of trouble. If that glacier had only melted into weeping they could have endured it. There have been times in your life when you would have given the world, if you had,possessed it, for one tear. You could shriek, you could blaspheme, but you could not cry. Have

you never seen a man holding the hand of a dead wife, who had been all the world to him? The temples livid with excitement, the eye dry and frantic, no moisture on the upper or lower ltd. Yon saw there were bolts of anger in the cloud but no rain. To your Christian comfort he Said, “Don’t talk to me about God; there is no God; or if there is I hate Him; don’t talk to me about God; would He have left me snd these motherless children?” But a few hours or days after, coming across some lead pencil that she owned in life, or some letters which she wrote when he was away from home, with an outcry that appeals there bursts the fountain of tears, and as the sunlight of God’s consolation strikes that fountain of tears you find out that it is a tender hearted, merciful, pitful and all compassionate God who was the Father of that rain. “On,” you say, “it’s absurd to think that God is going to watch over tears.” No, my friends. There are three or four kinds of them that God counts, bottles and eternizes. First, there are all parental tears, and there are more of these than of any other kind, because the most of the race die in infancy, and that keeps parents mourning all around the world. They never over it. They may live to shout ari’d sing afterward, but there is always a corridor in the soul that is silent, though it once resounded. Little children soon get over the loss of parents. They are easily diverted with a new toy. But where is the man who has come to thirty or forty or fifty years of age who can think of the old people without having all the fountains of his soul stirred up? You may have had to take care of her a good many years, but you never can forget how she used to take care of you. There have been many sea captains converted in our church and the peculiarity of them was that they were nearly all prayed ashore by their mothers, though the mothers went into the dust soon after they went to sea. Have you never heard an old man in delirium of some sickness call for his mother? The fact is we get so used to calling for her the first ten years oi our life we never get over it, and when she goes away from us it makes deep sorrow. You sometimes, perhaps, in days of trouble and darkness, when the world would say, “You ought to be able to take care of yourself,” you wake up from your dreams finding yourself saying, “Oh, mother! mother.” Have those tears no divine origin? Why, take all the warm hearts that ever beat in all lands and in all ages, and put them together, and their united throb would be weak compared with the throb of God’s eternal sympathy. Yes, God also is Father ol all that rain of repentance. Did you ever see a rain of repentance? Do you know what it is that makes a man repent? I see people going around trying to repent. Do you know no man can repent until Gbd helps him to repent? How do I know? By this passage, “Him hath God exalted to be a prince and a Saviour to give repentance.” Oh! it is a tremendous hour when on( wakes up and says: “I am a bad man; I have not sinned against the laws of the land, but I have wasted my life. God asked me for my services and I haven’t given those services. Oh! my sins, God forgive me. When that tear starts it thrills all Heaven. An angel cannot keep his eye off it, and the church of God assembles around, and there is a commingling of tears, and God is the Father of that rain, the Lord, long suffering, merciful and gracious. In a religious assemblage a man arose and said: “I have been a very wicked man; I broke my mother’s heart; I became an infidel; but I have seen my evil way; and I have surrendered my heart to God. But it is a grief I never can get over that my parents should never have heard of my salvation. 1 don’t know whether they are living, or dead.” While yet he was standing in the audience, a voice from the gallery said, “Oh, my son, my son!” He looked up and he recognized her. It was his old mother. She had been praying for him for a great many years, and when at the foot of the cross the prcdigal son and the praying mother embraced each other, there was a rain, a tremendous rain, of tears, and God was the Father of those tears. Oh, that God would break us down with a sense of our sin, and then lift us up with an appreciation of His mercy. Tears over our wasted life. Tears over a grieved spirit. Tears over an injured father. Oh, that God would move upon this audience with a great wave of religious emotion. My friends, you have driven the Lord Jesus Christ, the king of the church, away from your heart; you have been maltreating Him these years; but He comes back to-day. He stands in front of the gates of your soul. If you will only pray for His pardon, He will meet you with His gracious spirit and He will say: “Thy sins are thine iniquities I will remember no more. Open wide the gate; I will take the throne. My peace I give unto you.” And then, all through the audience, from the young' and from the old, there will be a rain of tears, and i God will be the Father of that rain! Ready-Made If irrh»yj. Every six months a notice is circulated in the female penitentiaries of Fi-ance calling upon all women who i feel inclined to go out to New CaleI donia and be married to make an apI plication to that effect through the governor. The matrimonial candidates must be young and exempt from physical infirmities. Girls under long sentences readily catch at this method oi escaping prison life. The only moral qualification requisite is to have behaved well at least two years in the penitentiary. The selected candidates have to sign engagements promising to marry convicts and to settle in New Caledonia the remainder of their lives. On these conditions the government transports them, gives them an outfit and a ticket of leave when they land at Noumea. Their marriages are arranged for them by the governor of the colony, who has a selection of well-be- [ haved convicts ready for them to choose i from, and each girl may consult her I own fancy within certain limits, for the i proportion of marriagable men to women is about three to one. It has frequently happened that pretty girls have been wooed by warders, free-set-tlers, or time-expired soldiers or sailors, instead of by convicts. In such cases the governor can only assent to a marriage on condition that the female convict’s free lover shall place himself in the place of a ticket-of-leave man, and undertake never to leave the colony. The married couples get huts and free grants of land, and all they can draw from it by their own labor becomes theirs. During five years they are subjected to the obligation of reporting themselves weekly at the district polios office, and they are forbidden to enter public houses, and must not be found out of doors at night. This probationary period being satisfactorily passed, they get their full freedom, but subject always to the condition of remaining in the colony. To this rule the Jaw has forbidden that any exception shall be made. On no account whatever must convicts who have accepted grants of land and contracted “administrative marriages,** as they are called, ever return to France. - g| g

WAVESTHATSHAKETHE SHORE A Striking Phenomenon on the Coast of Donegal in Ireland. “ ‘They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters,’ may suppose that the wonders of the, deep are revealed to them alone,” said an old traveler to a New York Times man, “but, as a matter of fact, the average sailor has very little idea of the size and power of great waves. On the rock-bound coast, exposed to the full sweep of the Atlantic Ocean, the billows break in a storm with a fury that they never exhibit far from shore. A few months ago I was a guest in the house of a Donegal (Ireland) gentleman who lives about five miles from the shore, and I witnessed a singular phenomenon, which, I think, is peculiar to that coast “On the evening of my arrival my host gave a dinner party at which I was the only alien. Every one else at the table was a native of Donegal, and when the cloHi was removed and the ladies had withdrawn, the materials essential to a social evening were produced. I was just about to raise my glass to my lips when I heard a strange booming noise, not unlike far-off thunder, and at the same moment the room was very plainly shaken, the casements rattled, the floor trembled and a considerable portion of my punch was jolted over the edge of my tumbler and fell upon the table. I had no doubt that I had felt the shock of an earthquake, and I dare say my face was rather pale as I looked at my companions to see how they were affected by the situation. They did not seem in the least disturbed. Joke and laugh and , story flowed on unchecked, but I noticed that every man was now holding his glass in his hand. Somewhat , reassured, I was on the point of again raising my hand when the booming sound was repeated, the floor shivered, the window panes clattered, and the floor rocked again, and this time the disturbance seemed ‘nearer, clearer, deadlier than before.’ “I could be silent no longer. Addressing the guests generally I said: “ ‘ls that an earthquake ? You appear to be accustomed to such things, judging from the small amount of attention you pay to it “For a moment they all started at me wonderingly. Then, with a common impulse, they leaned back in their Ahairs and fairly howled with laughter. ‘I beg your pardon,’ said our host as soon as he had recovered his gravity. ‘I forgot that you were a stranger in Donegal, and knew nothing about the force with which the big Atlantic waves strike its rocks. A storm is brewing at sea, and the great rollers are just beginning to shake the shore. The shock of a billow bn the ramparts may be felt much farther inland than this, and during a very fierce tempest, when the wind is blowing straight from the ocean, the earth trembles at least eight miles from the coast.’ “The following morning I drove to the beach. A quarter of a mile from the sea I was drenched with what I mistook for rain, but I found it was only thick, flying spray from the breakers. On the coast the scene was positively awful to one unaccustomed to it. The storm of the preceding night had spent itself, but the giant waves, with all the weight of the Atlantic Ocean behind them, smote the immovable rocks with terrific force, and baffleld only for a moment, upon the breast of the almost fathomless waters that wash that iron coast. When time was young those pitiless billows wasted their powers upon that impregnable shore, and while time endures those everlasting ramparts will beat them back. Os all places I have visited in which nature dwarfs humanity, I have seen none where man’s littleness becomes so apparent to himself as at the deep-sea coast of Donegal.” Cowboy Characteristics. In the East the cowboy bears a great reputation as a dead shot. Part of this is deserved, part is due to romance. But between the. cowboy and the old California miner there is a great difference. The former is more reckless than the miner ever was—especially when he is carrying a heavy load of liquor in addition to his six shooter—but it is doubtful if he has done as much killing as the old miner. The latter generally held off until he was obliged to draw, and then he saw to it that every shot counted. It is remarkable how many shots a cowboy can waste without ever hitting anything. A coroner might starve if he .depended on the hurdy-gurdy fights as a source of income. Still many cowboys are mighty handy with their weap- ; ons, says the Chicago Herald. Among them one will find about the same percentage that want to be known as “ bad men” as can be met with in any frontier community. As a rule the stockmen and cowboys of the West are a generous, brave, law-abiding lot of citizens, and many never draw a gun unless there exists good reasons for it Their promiscuous shooting in the tough saloons frequented by the cowboys who happen in town during a round-up is generally good-natured, wild fun, induced by imbibing too freely of a poor quality of forty-rod. You see, the cowboy thoroughly enjoys show and noise. Now with the miner it was different He had his claim and his belt of gold to protect, and he felt the responsibility of the charge. There was no law to avenge any outrage, so in case of any attempted infringements on his rights he was obliged to administer a rebuke in his own peculiar way, and it was generally pretty effective. Rhubarb and Its Use. Rhubarb or pie plant for Boston market is nearly all grown in gardens near by Boston. That which has been forced in hot-houses begins to come in in February, and retails at from 20 to 15 cents per pound; then the Southern product comes on, and is sold in a small way at from 10 to 5 cents per pound at retail, and Arlington and others near by that is grown in the open air follows on, netting the farmer from 5 cents down to I of a cent a pound, and retailing at from 7$ to 2 cents usually. When the farmer gets less than $1 per 100 pounds he usually stops pulling it Prices range a little better, as the demand is greater when apples are scarce, but the rhubarb seems to grow unpopularity, and perhaps would be still more popular if housekeepers knew that it was not necessary to remove the outer skin of the stalk before cooking. This only should be done when the stalk is wilted. Out the stalks into small pieces as for pies without skinning, and turning boiling water over them, and let them scald from fifteen to twenty-five minutes, according to age of stalk, and they will be as tender when cooked as if the skin had 1 been taken off, and .will require less sugar, while the acid flavor of the plani will be retained in its greatest

Drawing tho Long Bow. The London Globe tells the story of a candidate for a Yorkshire borough addressing the electors in flattering terms, and telling them that for “the hope of being their representative he had given up valuable prospects in India, and traveled many hundreds of miles.” “What a jolly fool you must be,” was the unsympathetic response of one of the crowd. The speaker had, in fact, returned to England because his prospects in India had proved delusive. Exaggeration of this class have been held up to derision for centuries. Lando/sixteenth century) tells a story of an Italian ecclesiastic, who was so given to drawing the long bow that his friends only derided his tales. He at last hired a simple country lad, whose whole duty it was to stand behind his master’s chair and corroborate his anecdotes. The boy did his work for a time; but at length his employer ventured on a tale so amazing that the honest servant startled the company by exclaiming, “Nay, master, take back my livery; I cannot swear to that.’’ Epitaphs offer a very usual field for exaggeration. Few imitate the sensible conciseness of an inscription in a Hampshire church, where the survivor merelyadds, after the name of the deceased • “To those who knew him a narration of his virtues would be needless; to those who knew him not it would be tedious” —a fact too often lost sight of by the writers of monumental inscriptions. Facts themselves may be presented in a light which exaggerates them to the listener. Boswell once praised the profuse hospitality of a gentleman who “never entertained less than a thousand friends in the course of a year.” “That is to say, about three persons dined with him daily,” said Johnson. Both “ways of putting it” were true, but they conveyed widely different meanings. Minnesota's Wonderful Climate. “Curious winter phenomena we have here,” remarked the St. Paulite to the visitor from St. Louis. “You notice that icicle up there on the cornice of that eight-story building? Should say it was ten feet long. Well, this vevy morning one just like that dropped as Sam Bones was passing and the point struck him square on the top of the head. It went through him like a shot and pinned him to the sidewalk bolt upright and stiff as a statue.” “Kill him?” “Hardly. As soon as the Icicle melted he walked off all right enough. See?” “An extraordinary escape, truly—perhaps an isolated case. But I should think he would be liable to take cold from the draft through the hole in his body.” “Not at all! You see, the winter climate here is so dry that—” “Bosh!”— Nature’s Realm. Why Women Marry. An article in the North American Review as ks: “What Makes Women Marry?” Why do the flowers bloom? Why does water run down hill? Why does the sun rise and set? And why does the world turn round? There would be just as much sense in asking these questions as why women marry. They marry because it was ordained from the beginning of creation; because marriage is a part of the divine plan; because, as a rule, women are safest and happiest in the married state; because it is right and proper that they should marry, and because a natural, normal, well-balanced girl turns to wedlock as the flowers turn to light. As Artemus Ward said in reply to the query “Why do summer roses fade?” “Because it’s their biz.” — Indianapolis News. A Fragile Structure. A system which chronic Indigestion has depleted and rendered nervous and feeble is, indeed, a very fragile structure, a tenement fast toppling into irretrievable decay. Excessive irritability of temper, abnormal and causeless anxiety, hypochondria, hysteria, and sleeplessHess—these are some ot the manifestations of nervousness. That grand, invigorating nervine, Hostetter’s Stomach Bitters, tranquillizes by strengthening the nerves, accomplishing the double result through the medium of renewed digestion and assimilation. No tonic in existence exhibits such thoroughness, produces such speedily appreciable effects as the Bitters. It is a perfectly reliable safeguard against malaria and dangerous kidney trouble, and remedies completely liver and bowel inactivity and disorder. Nervous invalids should not fail to fortify their systems with this benign protective. Which merits a persistent triaL Large Timber Wanted. A Chicago man is out here in search of a stick of timber 110 feet long and four feet square. He has not been able to find such a stick in any of the lumber yards around town, and so has gone down to the Nehalem to look for a tree to make one. He is working in the interest of the Columbian Exposition, and it is supposed that the stick is wanted for the centerpole of that great circus.— Portland Oregonian. Wanted Comfort. Guest—Your bill sir, is outrageous. Instead of charging me your usual rates, you have charged three times that, and credit it to extras. Hotel Clerk—You forget that you said you wished to be made comfortable.— Street & Smith’s Good News. HALL’S CATARRH CURE ia a liquid and ia taken internally. Sold by Druggista, 75c. A Dime Dank. A Kansas woman began saving dimes a year and a half ago, and she broke her bank open the other day and counted out $118.70. ' ' The best cough medicine is I’lso’s Cure for Consumption. Sold everywhere. 25c. Don't tell a man his wrongs are not wrongs. You will add to his wrongs if you tell him that. Don’t Feel Well, And yet you are not sick enough to oonexflt a doctor, Cr you refrain from so doing for tear you will alarm yourself and friends—we will tell yon just what you neqd. It is Hood's Sarsaparilla, which will soon lift you out of that uncertain, uncomfortable and dangerous condition. into a state of good health, confidence and cheerfulness. You've no idea how potent this peculiar medicine is in such cases as yours. N. B. If you decide to take Hood's Sarsaparilla do not be induced to buy anything else instead. Hood’s Sarsaparilla Sold by ah druggista. fl; six for »5. Prepared only by C. I. HOOD ft OO„ LowelL Mass 100 Doses One Dollar

The Soft Clow of The TEA ROSE Is Acquired by Ladles Who Use POZZONI’S MEDICATED

•* w AU’crufemeoi in uui pnpna m _JBL ■=*raejKw*»irjf aa=MMi Ixfl „ Best Cough Medicine. Recommended by Physicians. H<j| ' hi Cures where all else fails. Pleasant and agreeable to the KW EM taste. Children take it without objection. By druggists. ■=■ , ? ■EEQSOSEEIO3MI :'Si>k .tdjfi-

“August Flower” Mr. Lorenzo F. Sleeper is very well known to the citizens of Appleton, Me., and neighborhood. Ha says: “ Eightyears ago I was taken “ sick, and suffered as no one but a •* dyspeptic can. I then began tak- “ ing August Flower. At that time “ I was a great sufferer.. Everything I ate distressed me So that I “ had to throw it up. Then in a “ few moments that horrid distress ** would come on and I would have “to eat and suffer Forthat “again. I took a .j “little of your medHoma ««icine, and feltmuch . Stomach “better, and after “ taking a little more Feeling. “August Flower my * ‘ Dyspepsia disap- “ peered, and since that time I “ have never had the first sign of it. „ “ I can eat anything without the “least fear of distress. I wish all “ that are afflicted with that terrible “ disease or the troubles caused by “it would try August Flower, as I “am satisfied there is no medicine “equal to it’’ >

A HaveYouTriei tt? X 0 Try It Now! g fl Go to your Druggist, hand £8 V him one dollar, tell him you || I*l want a bottle of « . » . J X PRICKLY ASH | {★BITTERS* § X The Best Medicine known S fl for the CURE of i I All Diseases of the Liver, • £ l<> All Diseases of the Stomach, B V All Diseases of the Kidneys, M /> All Diseases of tho Bowels. mA V PURIFIES THE BLOOD, f| CLEANSES THE SYSTEM, fl M Restores Perfect Health. Q DONALD KENNEDr Os Roxbury, says Kennedy’s Medical Discovery cures Horrid Old Sores, Deep Seated Ulcers of 40 years’ standing, Inward Tumors, and ♦ every disease of the skin, except Thunder Humor, and Cancer that has taken root.. Price si.so. Sold by every Druggist in the U. S. and Canada. THIS IS THE ONLY SCALE 5 60. Reliable, Accurate, Durable! BEAMBQX-BRASS-BEAM-IRON-LEVERSi ADDRESS, JONES."HEm fHEFREIGHT"FOR TERMS. BINGHAMTON, N.Y. 4F I EWIS’9B LYE I Powdered and I’erfumed. - Li (patented.) The strongest and purest Lrf /A tf'ad o . Will make the best per. * fumed Hard Soap in 20 minute® W without boiling. XZ !■ File* Scßt for softening water, cleansing waste-pipes, disinfect* mg sinks, closets, washing bob* ■■ ties, paints, trees, etc. PENNA. SALT NTFG CO.. fIEOiauEQSB Gen. Agts., Phlla., Pa. RFMU Age, stability, sound meth- | LU 11 °^ 8 ’ oa ®h values, inoontestaBl||T||A| bl® policies; the best |y|(J | UAL system; low Llr L 921-3-5 Chestnut St., Philad’fe PsckM* make. 6 DeUoiou., .parkliuc aud appclilisa. Sold by *ll dealer*. A beaulllUl riolura Book *ad Card* *eo> ft«* to aay *a* aondlo. tbdr addrea* to Tho C. B. HIBBS CO., PhiladW * TADDU THROAT ANt» QzA I AnnnjLUNQDniMu quickly and permanently cured by the new ANTISEP. TIC HOME TBEATMKNT.“ Thonaand.of marvdlona cure*. For free book address with 6 cte. THE RATIO jL AL ANTISEPTIC OO„ Ito STATE BT. CHICAGO, ILL Diseases cured at once by DR. _ FRENCH ARSENIC WAFERS, perfectly harmmsiMU *<TXrOMAN. HEIUDISKABEB AND THXI* IT Troatmont.” A valuable illn.trated bookfli r. w. n. o *«,»—,l. Wb«a Writing to Advertisers, pl«Me aar iron aaw the AdhrertiMment In tHla r—-i—f