Pike County Democrat, Volume 28, Number 27, Petersburg, Pike County, 12 November 1897 — Page 3

mm nww ■••• - DESTRUCTIVE CLASSES. Bey. Dr. Talmaffe Discourses on Those Who Prey Upon Society. Crlmlaata. Vntru.t worthy OB•lata, t hr Ml* and Oppm»*d Poor— Btawljr ta(i<tMd tor U» Orest Evils. In the following sermon Rev. Dr. Taint age speaks of the dangers men* ■acing the people of our great cities, end points to the remedy. The text is: The boar out of the wood doth waste It. and the wild beast of the field doth devour it.— Psalm Ixxx, IX lty this homely bnt expressive figure David sets forth the bad influences which in olden time broke in upon •God’s heritage, as with swine’s foot trampling, aud as with swine’s snout ' uprooting the vineyards of prosperity. What was true then is true now. There have been euough trees of righteousness planted to overshadow the whole •earth, had it uut been fur the ax-men who hewed them down. The temple of truth would long ago have been completed hail it not beeu for the iconoclasts who defaced the walls and battered down the pillars. The whole earth would have beeu an Eachol of ripened dusters had it not been that •‘the boar has wasted it aud the wild beast of the field devoured iL” I propose to point out to you those whom 1 consider to ue the destructive

clauses of society. I irst, the public criminals. You ought not to he surprised that these people make up a large proportion of many* communities. In 1809. of the 49.000 pcrsou* who were incarcerated in the prisous of the country, 32.000 were of foreign birth. Many of them were the very desperadoes of society, ooaing into the slums of our cities, waiting for an opportunity to riot aud steal and debauch, joiuing the large gaug of American thugs aud cut-throats. There are in tmr cities people whose entire business in life is to commit crime. That is as much their business as jurisprudence or medic.up ‘>r merchandise is your buaiues*. To it they bring all their energies of insty. miud aud soul, aud they look upon the interregnums which "tluy spend in prisuu as so much uufortunate loss of time, just as you look upon hu utlack of influenza or rheumatism which fasteus you iu the house for a few day.*. It is their lifetime business to pick pockets, aud blow up safes, aud shoplift, ami ply the panel game, and they have as much pride of skill in their business lys you have in yours when you upset the argument of an opposing counsel, or cure a gunshot fracture which other surgeous have given up, or foresee a turn iu the market so you buy goods just before they go up 20 per cent. It is their business to commit crime, aud ldo not suppose that once iu a year the thought of the immorality strikes the u Added to these professional criminals. American sud foreign, there is a Large class of men who lire more or less industrious iu crime. Driinkeuuess is responsible for much of the theft, since it coufuscs a mail’s idea* of property, and he gets hi* bauds on thing* that do uot belong to him. Hum is responsible for much of the assault aud battery, inspiring men to sudden bravery, which they must demonstrate, though it be ou the tace of the next gentleman. You help t>« pay theboard of every criminal, from the sueak thief who suatches a spool of cotton up to some innu who cnactsv a “ltiack Friday.” More than that, it touches your heart lu the.moral depression of the community. You might as well thiuk to stand iu acloscly-conliuej room where there are 59 people and yet not ‘breathe the vitiated air as to stand in a community where there arc so many of the depraved without somewhat being contaminated. What i* the hrv that burns your store down compared with the Conflagration which consumed vour morals? V\ hat is the theft »>f the gold and silver from your money-safe computed with the theft of your children’s Virtue? We are all ready to arraign criminals. We shout at the top of our voice, "Mop thief!” aud wheu the police get on the tracn we come out. hatless aud iu our slippers, and assist iu the arrest We come around the bawling ruffian and hustle h;iu off to justice, and wheu he gets in prison, what do we do for him? With great gusto we put ou the haudcuffs and the hopples; but what preparations are we making for the day w lieu the handcuffs aud hopples come off? Society seems to say to these

criminals: “\iiiain, go iu mere anu rot!" when it ought to say: “You are on offender againstt the law, but we mean to give you an opportunity to repent; we mean to help you. Here are liibies aud tracU ami Christian influences. Christ’died for you. Look and live.” ’Vast improvements have been made by introducing iudustry into the prison; but we want something more than hammer* aud shoelasts to reclaim these people. Aye, we want more than sermons on the Sabbath day. Society must impress these men with the fact that it does not enjoy their suffering, and. that it is attempting to reform and elevate them. The majority of criminals suppose that society has a grudge against them, and they in turn have a grudge agaiust society. They are harder in heart and more infuriate whoa they come out of jail than when they went in. Many of the people who go to prison go again and again. Some years ago. of 1.5(H) prisoners who during the year had been in £ing Sing, 400 had been there before. In a house of correction in the country. where during a certain reach of time there had been 5.000 people, more than 3,000 had been there before. So, in one case the prison, and in the other «aae the house of correction, left them just as bad as they were before. The aecretary of one of the benevolent societies of New York saw a lad of 1ft years of age who had spent three years at hi/life in prison, and he said to the lad: “What have they done for yon to make you better?” “Well,” replied the lad, “the first time 1 was brought

ap before the judge he aald: I ‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself.' And then 1 commuted » crime again, and I was brought up before the same judge, and he said: 'You rascal." And after awhile I committed some other crime, and 1 was brought before the same judge, and he skid: 'You ought tube hanged.”* That is all they had done for him in the way of reformation and salvation. “Oh,** you say, "these people are incorrigible." I suppose there are hundreds of persous this day lying in prison bunks who would leap up at the prospect of reformation, if society would only allow them a way into decency and respectability. "Oh," you say, "I hare no I patience with these rogues.” I ask ! you in reply, how much better would I you have* been uuder the same eircumstauces? Suppose your mother had been a blasphemer and your father a sot. aud you had started | life with a body stuffed with evil proI clivities, and you had spent much of | your time in a cellar amid obsceuitics and cursing, and at ten years of age you had been compelled to go out aud steal, battered and banged at night if you came iu without auy spoils; aud j suppose your early manhood and womanhood had been covered with rags aud filth, and decent society had turned its back upon you aud left you to consort with vugabouds and wharf rats—how much better would you have been? 1 have no sympathy with that executive clemcucy which would let crime run loose, or which would sit in the gallery of a court-room weeping because some hard-hearted wretch is brought to justice; but 1 do say that the safety and life of the community demaud more potential influences in behalf of these offenders.

aujuu^' vuc upivunuj,; classes iu our midst are the idle. Of course, I do not refer to the people who are getting old, or to the sick, or to those who can not get work: but 1 tell you to look out for those athletic men and women who will uot work. When the French uoblemau was asked why he kept busy when he had so large ir property, he said; **l keep on engraving so 1 may not hang myself.” I do not care who the man is, lie can not afford to be idle. It is from the idle classes that the crimiual classes are made up. Character, like water, yet-* putrid if it stauds still too long. Wbo can wonder that iu this world, wins re there is so much to do, and all the hosts of earth uud Heaven and hell are pluuging iuto the conflict, and angel* are tlving. and ihxl is at work, and the universe is a-quakc with the marching and counter-marching. that Coil leta His indiguation fail upon a man who chooses idleness? 1 have watched these do-nothings who spend their time stroking their beards, and retouching their toilet, aud criticising industrious people, aud pass their days aud nights in barrooms ami clubhouses. lounging and smoking and chewing and card-playing. They are not only useless, but they are dangerous. How hard it is for them to while away the hours!

xor Ul«lU. n uiev uu uui nuu™ how to while away «» hour, what will they do when they have all eternity on their bauds? These men for awhile smoke the best cigars aud wear the best broadcloth, aud move in the highest spheres; but I have noticed that ! very soon they come down to the pris- ; ou, the altuhotisc, or atop at the gal- ' lows. The police stations of two of our cities furnish annually -‘<>0,000 lodgings. For the most part, these -00,000 lodgings are furnished to able-bodied men and women—people as able to work as you and 1 are. When they are received uo longer at one police station, because they are “repeaters,” they go to some other statiou, aud so they keep moving around. *Thev get their food at house doors, stealing what they can lay their hauda on in the front basement while the servant is spreading the bread iu the back basement. They will not work. Time and again, iu the country districts, thev have wauted hundreds and thousands of laborers. These men will uot go. They do not want to work. 1 have tried them. I have set them to saw ing wood in. my cellar, to see whether they wanted to work. I offered to pay them well for it. 1 have heard the saw going for about three miuutes, and then 1 went dowu. aud lo. the wood, but no saw! They are the pest of society, aud they stand in the way of the Lord's poor, who ought to be helped, aud ‘ will be helped. While there are thousauds of Industrious men who eau not get any work, these tueu who do not want any work come in aud make that plea. Sleeping at night at public expense in the statiou house; during the ! day. getting their food at .your door* ■ step. Imprisonment does not scare them. They would like it. Blackwell's Island or Moyainensiug prison would j be a comfortable home for them. They ! would have no objection to the almshouse. for they like thiu soup, if they i can not get mock turtle. 1 like for that class of people the 1 scant bill of fare that Paul wrote out I for the Theaaaluuian loafers: "If any work not, neither shall he eat.” By | what law of liod or man is it right that you and l should toil day iu aud day out, until our hands are blistered and | our arms ache and our brain gets . numb, and then be called upon to sup* (port what in the United States are about 3,000.000 loafers! They are a ▼ery dangerous class. Let the public authorities keep their eyes on them. Among the uprooting classes 1 place j the oppressed poor. Poverty to a certain extent is chastening; but after that, when it drives a man to the wall, j and he hears children cry in vain for bread, it sometimes makes him desperate. 1 think that there are thousands of honest men lacerated into vagabondism. There are men crushed under burdens for which they are not half paid. While there is ao excuse for criminality even in oppression. 1 state it as a simple fact that much of the acouudreliam of this community fs consequent upon illtreatment. There are many men and

women bettered end bruised end stone until the hour of despair bea come, end they stand with the ferocity of e wild beast which, pursued until it can run no longer, turns round, foaming and bleeding, to fight the hounds. There is another layer of poverty and destitution, not so squalid, but almost as helpless. You hear their incessant wailing for bread and clothes and tire. Their eyes are sunken. Their cheek|bones stand out Their hands are damp with slour consumption. Their flesh is puffed up with dropsies. Their breath is like that of a charnel house. They hear the roar of the wheels of fashion overhead, and the laughter of men and ! maidens, and wouder why God gave others so much aud them so little. Some of them thrust into au infidelity like that of the poor German girl, who, when told in the midst of her wretchedness that God was good, she said: •'No; no good God. Just look at me. No good God.n

In these American cities, whose cry of want 1 interpret, there a re hundreds and thousands of honest poor who are dependent upon individual city and state charities. If all their voices could come up at once, it would be a groan that would shake the founda* tious of the city, aud bring all earth and Heaven to the rescue, liht, for the must part, it suffers unexpressed. It aits in silence, guashing its teeth and sucking the blood of its own arteries, waiting for the judgment day. Oh, I should uot wonder if on that day it would be found out that some of us had some things that belonged to them; some extra garment which might have made them comfortable on cold days; some bread thrust iuto the ash barrel that might have appeased their hunger for a little while; some wasted candle or gas jet that might have kindled up their darkness; some fresco ou the celling that would have given them a roof; some jewel which, brought to that orphan girl in time, might have kept her from being crowded off the precipices of an unclean life; some New Testament that would have told them of Him who “came to s$jek aud to save that which was lost!” Oh, this wave of vacancy aud hunger aud nakedness that dashes against our frout door-step; 1 wonder if you hear it aud see as much as 1 hear it and s'oo it! 1 have been almost freua*ed with the perpetual cry for help from all classes aud from all uatious. kuocking,knocking.ringing,riugiug. If the roots of all the houses of destitution could be lifted so we could look dovvu into them just as God looks, whose nerves would be strong enough to stand it? And yet there they are. The sewing wouieu, some of them in hunger aud cold, working uight after night, until sometimes the blood spurts from nostril aud lip; How well their grief was voiced by that despairing woman who stood by her invalid husbaud aud invalid child, aud said to the city missionary; “I am downhearted. Kv- , crythiug‘* against us; and then there ! are other tbiugs." “What other things?1’ said the city missionary, i “Oh,” she replied, “my sin.” “What do you meau by that?” “Well,” she she, “1 never hear or see anything good. It’s work from Monday | morning to Saturday night, aud then when Sunday comes I can’t go out, aud 1 walk the tloor,

turn it makes me tremble to liuuk tuat 1 have got to meet God. Gh, sir; it’s so hard for us. We have to work so, and then we are getting along so poorly, and see this wee little thing growing weaker and weaker; and then to thiuk we are getting uo uearer to God, but tioatiug a way from llim—oh, sir, 1 do ; wish 1 was ready to die! ’ 1 want you to kuow who are the uproot! c g classes .of society. Iwjyityou to be more diserimiuatiug in your charities. I want your hearts open with generosity, aud your bauds open with charily. 1 want you to he made the sworn friends of all city evangeli za- : turn, aud all newsboys’ lodginghouses, and all children's aid societies. Aye, i want you to send the Dorcas society all the cast-off clothing, that, uuder the skillful manipulation of the wives and mothers sud sisters aud 1 daughters, these garments may be tilted on the cold, bare feet, and on the shivering limbs of the destitute. I should not wonder if that hat you give should come back a jeweled ooronet, or that garmeut thalyou this week hand out from _your wardrobe should mysteriously be whitened, aud somehow wrought into the Saviour’s own robe, so in the last day lie would run His handover it aud say: *1 was uaked and ye clothed me.” That would be putting yourgarments toglorious uses. Besides all this. 1 want you to appreciate in the contrast how very kindly God has dealt with you in your comfortable homes, at your well-tilled tables, and at the warm registers, and to have yon look at the round faces of your children, and then at the review of God's goodness to you, go to your room, and lock the door, and kneel down and say: *HJ Lord I have been an iugrate; make me Thy child. O Lord, there are so rnauy hungry and unclad and unsheltered to-day. 1 thank Thee that all my life Thon hast taken such good care of me. O Lord there are so many aick and crippled children to-day. 1 thank Thee mine are well, some of them on earth, some of them in Heave*). Thy goodness, O Lord, breaks me down. Take me once and forever. Sprinkled as 1 was many years ago while at the altar, while my mother held me, now 1 consecrate my soul to Then iu a holier baptism of ro penting tears. For sinners, Lonl. Thou cam si to bleed. And I'm a sutner vile indeed; Lord. I believe Thy grare is free; O magnify that grace in tnc_ Acting on His A dries, “Mr. TiUinghast left me 150.000,” remarked the interesting widow to young iiilow. “My dear Mrs. TiUinghast,” replied Uilow. “yon should husband your resources.” “O, Frank, dear, this is so sudden! But are your really sore you love tael” —Odds and Eads.

[Waters of Lethe.| By Gwendolen Overton. n mi19±im9*9******aa& JT IS a dangerous thing to tamper with the self-esteem of a woman, you hurt a man’s pride, he will probably go off and sulk for a greater or less time; or it may be, if the ease is very bad, that he will even kill himself. But a woman will have revenge. You may think she has forgotten, you may fancy she is impotent, but there is this much of the oriental in every woman— that she can wait. Break her heart and she will still let it be in the dust for you to trample upon, and she will find the pain pleasant; yet beware how you so much as scratch her pride; from the wound will trickle a stream of poison that may flow slowly,but will reach you in the end. James Dudley's case went to'prove this. Very few knew why he came to the end he did, but this was the way of it: When he was very young and just out from the Point, he was sent to a post miles from anywhere, and there he became engaged to marry the 14-year-old daughter of Maj. Gorschkov. She was beautiful beyond the dreams of art— far too gorgeoui for a mere little girl. She should have been historical. Such as Semiramis, or the Queen of Sheba, or Zenobia must have been, she was; therefore it was natural enough that Dudley should have thought himself in : love with her. But he was a clever fel- ; low, with a very fair share of brains, and she was an average child who was ! not old enough to return his love, but was mightily pleased in an innocent fashion at the importance the engage- | meat gave her. At the end of a year Dudley was ordered away. Absence opened his eyes to the fact that beauty alone was not ! enough to make him happy tu his wife. And he wrote to Esther and asked her s to release him, and to her parents he sent an explanation of his conduct. The mail orderly put both letters into : Esther’s hands. She read her own first.

She was lt> years old now, and very proud. She had also grown to care I in a vague sort of way for the ! memory of . the lover cf her child- | hood. The' loiter cut her through the Russian down to the Tartar, and she hated the man who she chose to ; think had humbled her. She tore it and the one to her father into small pieces, i There was one sentence in the former i that she did not understand. The lieu- [ tenant had sank “In time you will | drink of the waters of Lethe, and forget me as utterly as I deserve to beforj gotten." A few days later she told her father she was not going to marry James Dudley. t “Does he know it?" asked the major. “Yes.” “What is your reason?" “Nothing in particular. I simply don't want to.” “Perhaps that won’t satisfy- him. | However, it is just as well. I never sup- ; posed a childish alTair of that sort would amount to much. You are old enough to act for yourself now.” In truth, Maj. Uorsclikov had ambitions that soared above a mere lieutenant for his superb daughter. Esther was thankful to escape so easily. Presently she asked: “PajKi—what does it mean to drink of the w aters of L-et-h-e?” The major explained. “Oh,” she said, “I see,” and her long t\es narrowed cruelly. Now it might have happened in civil life that Dudley aud Esther Gorschkov would never meet again, but partings can only be temporary in the service. Some years later Lieut. Dudley walked into a San Francisco theater one night after the curtain had gone up. The house was dark, aud he kept his eyes on the stage. At the close of the act he looked about him. and the first thing he saw was a woman whose beauty | startled him. And then he realized that | she was the one he might have married. She was in a box with an older woman whom he knew. Dudley was seized with a wonderful dread of meeting those wonderful dark-gray eyes. He would go at once before he should do so. Hut as he rose the older woman saw him, and smiled and beckoned to an empty chair beside her. There was nothing for it now but to go to the box. He was cold with fear of the lowbrowed, black-haired, black-gowned girl with the magnificent neck aud shoulders.

She would not have forgotten him. He knew that; and he doubted if she would have forgiven. If she had been less beautiful he might have felt less culpable, for such is the nature of man. She smiled when they met with the regwily indifferent smile that had been hers even in childhood. “Oh. I knew Mr. Dudley years ago!" she said. “I was a little girl and was very fond of horn because he used to buy me sutler’s store candy and ribbons." •If that was her view of the prfst. Dudley resented it. A than does not want a beautiful girl to treat him as an old friend of infancy. “You might suppose. Mrs. Graves.** he told the other woman, “that she bad been a toddling child and I a crusty bachelor in whose pockets she felt for sweetmeats." Then Esther questioned him in her deep, sweet voice. “IIow long shall you •top here?" “For a fortnight possibly." “Where are you stationed now?** She knew well enough. “At Apache. So you can imagine what a treat civilization is to me How does it happen that I find you here?" “We are stationed at the Presidio. You must come to see us." "I will," he answered. He would have done any thing those red lips might ask him to do. The receding tide of hia love for her had swept back with a "»Whtr force.

"How beautiful you are, Esther," he said, after a moment. “I always was.” "You have no more false modesty than of yore." “Why should I have? I didn’t make myself, eo I’m not praising- my own handiwork. And I frankly admit that if I were to have made myself, I think I should have chosen my <present model." “But there is more than mere beauty of feature, now.” “Character, I suppose — which I kicked as ai child. It is odd that character, even if it happens to be bad, can so improve a face.” Then she tunned her head and bestowed the light of her countenance on the civilian beside her, whose infatuation was obvious. “Every man in the post and the city will hate you with a deadly hatred, if Miss Gorsdhkov happens to take a fancy to you for old sake's sake.” Mrs. Graves warned him. “Even her fancy would be cheaply purchased at that cost.” “Perhaps. A woman of her beauty is not -born into the world once in a cycle, certainly.” And Miss Gorsehkov was pleased to fancy him. She advertised the fact. She was not one to fearony means that would gain her ends. She threw away 'her pride and tame at his call. She forgave him the past and met him more than half way. But Dudley was too much in love to despise or mistrust her for this. He applied fora two-months’ leave and spent every available moment of it with her. Mrs. Graves, in her quality of a schoolchum of his mother's and an old friend of himself, warned him. “Esther has done this same thing before, James. Take care. She is as beautiful as Cleopatra. and there are many who say she is as bad—at heart. Make love to her, if you choose, Caesar, but let your wife be a woman who is above suspicion.” Dudley never spoke to her again. And he continued his fanatical cult of his goddess. HLs leave came to an end, and he went back to Apache. He who had been a light mocker and a philosopher of life, saw the bottom drop out of his universe when he had to go from her. She wrote to him twice a day, for a time, then j once a day, then once a week, and finally the mail orderly handed him a letter from Esther that was almost a verbatim copy of the one he had sent to her six years before, even to the closing phrase. “In time you will drink of the waters of Lethe and will forget me as utterly as I deserve to be forgotten.” A light of memory broke, harsh and crude, through the rosy clouds that had enwrapped him. But he said to himself that justice had been meted out to him. stern and untempered. And he made no appeal.

Something' more than a nveivemonxn later; Esther Gorschkov sat at dinner beside the man whom she was then playing fast and loose, who would not be warned by the fate of the many whose bodies were strewn upon the shores where this Cythera had trod. “You promised, you know,” he said to her, “that you would answer my que& tion to-night." “\Yhat question?” ' "Don’t banter, please. I am in earnest.” “You appear to be. And everybody can see it, too. Go on and eat, and look as though you were discussing the dynamite gun or something.” “I will do whatever you choose, if you will tell me if you will marry me.” “Oh! is that what you mean? I couldn’t remember whether it was you or Mr. Clayton who had asked me. Maybe it was both of you. But I can’t see why you should bother about that sort of- thing at dinner. Why don’t you wait until the dance. It would l>e so much better form. Fancy saying ‘no’ to n a man and then putting a piece of harmless little lamb in one’s mouth.” “Are you going to say ‘no’?” “Gracious! but we are insistent. How should I know what I am going to say? Go on and eat, and stop hanging on ray words, or I won’t answer you at all. It is so fearfully conspicuous.” Even In his suspense, the man could not but return. “Whence this newfound dislike to being conspicuous?” Miss Gorschkov smiled slowly and started to answer, but a voice from across the table stopped her. ‘*What is it, Capt. Lawrence?” she asked. “Have you heard of Lieut. Dudley’*

“No. Is he dead?” “He died at Apache a week ago.” “I'm so sorry; but, frankly, I don't think a dinner-table the place for funeral notices,” she rebuked him. He disliked her. and she saw the purpose of his announcement. Her dead-white skin could turn no whiter, and her smiling red lips were painted. “Cold-hearted devil.” the captain muttered, as she turned back to the man at her side. “So you want me to marry you? I will. But I want you to understand why. It is because I have just been told that the only man I have ever loved or ever will love is dead. Do you want me—knowing that?” “Even knowing that—yes.” “Very well.” She spoke across the table again. "Capt. Lawrence, do you happen to know how Mr. Dudley died? We might as well have the coroner's verdict, since you have given us the other notices." “He died of drink.” ho told her, mercilessly. “I never knew that he drank.” “He never did until he went back from here a year ago. He took to it furiously after that, and would havo been dismissed if he had not died, probably. Can you account for it?” Miss Gorsehkov smiled. “Perhaps he ! fancied he was quaffing the waters of : Lethe,” she said.—San Francisco Ar* \ gonaut. _ Loss of Vessels. The average weekly loss of vessel* cm the seas throughout the world is 13

B.&O.S-W.RY: Train* leave Washington u follow* flat BAST BOITKD. WEST BOCN*. Wo. •.2:08 a. m* No. S .... 1:21 a.m No. 12.6:17 a. mf No. 13, I've* 6H»a. an No. 4.7:17 a. m* No. 6.8:W *. a 6No. 2 ..... l.*08p. m* No. 7.12:49 p. mi o. 8.1:13 a. m+ No. 1...... 1:42 p.m o. 14. *rr. 11:49 p. m+ No. •.11:08 p.m*. • Daily. ♦ Dally except Sunday. For detail information regarding rate% time on connecting line*, sleeping, pultg ear*, eto., address THOS. DONAHUE, Ticket Agent, B. A O. S-W. Ity.. Washington, In*. J. M. CHESBROUQH, General Passenger Agent, St. Louie, Mo

o VI NORTHWEST.

THE Short Line TO ) INDIANAPOLIS CINCINNATI, PITTSBURGH, WASHINGTON BALTIMORE, NEW YORK, BOSTON, AND ALL POINT® EAST.

No. 33. north.. 10:att am No. 83. south.. 1:23pm No. 34. north . ... 5:43 pm Fcr sleeping oar reservations, maps, rate* and further information, call on your nearwi ticket agent, or address, F. P. EKKKIKS. Q. P. ft T. A.. H. R. GRISWOLD, A.G.P.ft T.A.. Kv unsvtl'.e, lad. E. B. GUNCKEl. Agent. Petersburg, lad.

BESTTRAINS Kansas City, Montana, Colorado, Pacific Coast, Utah, Washington, Omaha, St. Paul, Nebraska, Black Hills, -VIASt. Louis or Chicago, VESTIBULED TRAINS, SLEEPERS, DININR GARS, CHAIR CARS (Vr\?>. CONSULT TICKET AGENT, Oil fa M. RUGG, THAW. PAS3 R AGENT. ST. LOUIS. HOC • Cave.its, and Trade-Mark, obtained and all Pat-] [eat business conducted for Moderate FEES. < iOur Orries la Opposite U. S. Patent Omec •and we can secure patent in less time than those] [remote from Washing ton. ... , ' ► Send model, drawing or photo., with desenjHi ition. We advise, if patentable or not, free of] [charge. Our fee not due till patent is secured. , [ £ pamphlet. ** How to Obtain Patents,” with' •cost of same in the U. S, and foreign conn trim] [sent free. Address, C.A.SNOW&CO

Tf* ANTED—FAITHFUL MEN or WOMKld " to travel lor responsible established bouse In Indiana. Salar* |7!S) and expeni Position permanent. \ Reference. Enclose self-addressed stsanpcdbriv elope. The Nation pal. 8tar Insuraace^ar^VTf, f’Alcaso. i M YEARS* EXPERIENCE. TRADE EMRK% DSRIOHEe COPYRIGHTS te ^SyS2S2?^*XSl«?!2S^ probmbiT DtttnUMCk Coanantaftlkuki strlctlT “““ * °* SCIENTIFIC AMERICAN, bsaatlfttllv Illustrated, lamest circulation ef ffL*?*0"8* »••«*. temssIM# • reset UJOsU mouth a Specimen copies and HASM BOOK os Patixtb sent tree. Address MUNN A CO., Ml Bmndatay. Mew Tsrh. Wanted-An Idea psrwsr Pars. VtsUi(tM, D. C.. tor thatr SUMS pttaseRM SndUsS U two hundred ia-WANTED-FAITHFXJL MEN nr WOMEN " to tmvel for responsible established bones In Indiana. Salary *n» and expense*. Position permanent. Reference. Enclose self-addressed stamp# 1 envelops. Thu NtlK SRkfHM igsamnos BuibUnsu Chiaamn.