People's Pilot, Volume 3, Number 45, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 April 1894 — Page 3

THE WHEAT AND THE CHAFF.

There is an old tale of the gulden age days. When the gods with men parleyed sad moved. That a critic who dealt an blame and no praise Was once by Apollo reproved. The god handed back to the critical fool A handful of unwinnowed grains. Said he: “Leave the wheat, as seems ever your rule; You may have all the chad for your pains.” Now, this guide to your choice is suggestive today, Though told of a fabulous time, To any and all who its teachings obey In every country or clime. For the wheat and the chaff are mixed for us still As they were In those mythical grains; And if we choose now to see only ill, We shall have only that for our pains! All pathways are checkered. Gray shadows and night Alternate with the sun’s cheering rays. Our eyes grow accustomed to darkness or light As We fix upon either our gaze. And we can be clear-eyed, or we can be blind, As each one his vision so trains; If he chooses the dark need he wonder to find Be can see nothing bright for his pains! From the noisome swamps see the marsh lily lift Its delicate, queenly blue head; From water and slime and dark earth it will sift The nutriment best for its need. Poisons lurk in these things. It could draw evil thence As well as the good that it gains. Bhall it choose, then, those noxious elements whence Hurt and death will proceed for its pains? jtu our fellow-men are the elements mixed; Forever good mingles with sin. On their errors, their faults, shall we keep our gaze fixed, O’erlooking divine sparks within? Ah! a lesson in judging our frail brothers, then, We may learn from these fabulous grains. If we seek but the chaff, can ire fairly grieve when We receive only chaff for out pains? —Emily Q Adams, in N. Y. Sun.

MATT TALE OF A CARAVAN

BY ROEIERT BUCHANAN.

CHAPTER XIII- Continued. The old man, knowing his son’s temper, did as he was told, and William continued to potter aimlessly about the room. He was certainly trembling very much, and was almost overcome with a nervousness for whieh he himself could not account. For he was no coward. To get possession of a prize on the high seas he would have faced a storm -which might well make brave men tremble, not to mention that he knew that he had on more than one occasion humanely hastened the end of the shipwrecked sailors whom he had found and pillaged ou the shore. After these acts he bad been able to sleep the sleep of virtue without being haunted by dead men’s eyes. But now the case was different. He had not to deal with a victim without friends, a man whose body, described as that of a “shipwrecked mariner,” could be buried and forgotten without more ado. In all probability there would .this time be a hue and cry, and WilHam J ones trembled lest his share in the ghastly business might ultimately be discovered. True, he was not actually the culprit, and so even at the worst he might escape the gallows; but to a man of his sensitive and affectionate nature the thought of transportation

“WHERE IS MATT?” HE ASKED.

was not pleasant. It was this that made him nervous—this that made him ■tart and tremble at every sound. Presently a thought struck him. “Where’s Matt?” he asked. “Don’t know,William dear; she ain’t been here for hours and hours. Maybe she’s on the shore.” “Maybe she is—l’ll go and have a look,” replied William. It must not be supposed for a moment that William Jones had become afflicted with a sudden and tender interest in Matt—he merely wanted to get quit of the cabin, that was all, and he saw in this a reasonable exeuse for walking out alone. He accordingly made his escape, and went wandering off along the shore. It was ten o’clock when he returned; he was stili pale, and drenched to the skin. The old man was dozing beside the fire, and alone. “Where’s Matt?” asked William again. “Ain’t you seen her, William dear? Well, she ain’t here.” William Jones did look a little uneasy this time, and it is but due to him to confess that his uneasiness was caused by Matt’s prolonged absence. Erratic as she was in her movements she had not been accustomed to staying out so late, especially on a night when the rain was pouring, and not a glimmer of star or moon was to be seen. “Wonder what she’s a doin’ of?” said William; “suppose I’d best wait up for her. Here, old man, you go to bed, d’ye hear—you ain’t wanted anyhow.” The old man accordingly went to bed, and William sat up to await Matt’s return. He sat beside the hearth, looked Into the smoldering fire and listened to the rain as it poured down •tcadib upon the roof. Occasionally

be got up and went to The doon be could see nothing, but he heard the patter of falling rain, and the low, dreary moan of the troubled sea. Hour after hour passed, and Matt did not come. William Jones began to doze by the fire—then he sank into a heavy sleep. He awoke with a start, and found that it was broad daylight. The fire was out, the rain had ceased to fall, and the morning’s sun was creeping in at the windows. He looked around and saw that he was still alone. He went into Matt’s room—it was empty. She had not returned. He was now filled with a vague uneasiness. He made up a bit of fire and was about to issue forth again in search of the truant, when all further trouble was saved him—the door opened and Matt herself appeared. She seemed almost as much disturbed as William Jones himself. Her face was very pale, her hair wild, her dress in great disorder. She started on seeing him, then, assuming a devil-may-care look, she lounged in: “You’re up early, William Jones,” she said. “Yes, I am up early,” he replied, gruffly; “’cause why?—’cause I ain’t been to bed. And where have you been?—jest you tell me that.” “Why—l've been out, of course,” returned the girl, defiantly. “That won’t do, Matt," returned William Jones. “Come, you’ll jest tell me where you’ve been. You ain’t been out all night for nothing.” The girl gave him a look, half of defiance, half of curiosity; then she threw herself down, rather than sat, upon a chair. “I am tired, I am,” she said, “and hungry and cold!” “Will you tell me where you’ve been, Matt?” cried William Jones, trembling with suspicious alarm. “’Course I will, if you keep quiet,” said the girl in answer. “There ain’t much to tell neither. I were away along to Pancroes when the heavy rain came on, then I lay down behind a haystack and fell asleep, and when I woke up it was daylight and I come home.” William J ones looked at her steadfastly and long; then, as if satisfied, he turned away. About an hour later he left the hut and walked along the shore straining his eyes seaward. But instead of looking steadfastly at one spot, as his custom was, he paused now and again to gaze uneasily about him. At every sound he started and turned pale. In truth, he was becoming a veritable coward —afraid almost of the sound of his own footsteps on the sands.

CHAPTER XIV. THE CARAVAN DISAPPEARS. Several days passed away, during which William Jones showed a strange and significant affection for his own fireside. He went out a little in the sunlight; but directly night came he locked and barricaded the door as if against thieves, and declined, on any inducement, to cross the threshold. Even had a three-decker gone ashore in the neighborhood he would have thought twice before issuing forth into the dreaded darkness. For William Jones was genuinely afraid; his hereditary calm of mind was shaken, not so much with horror at a murderous deed, as with consternation that his life-long secret had been discovered by one man, and might, sooner or later, be discovered by others. He did not put implicit faith even in Monk; it was his nature to trust nobody where money was concerned. . As to returning back to the cave until he had quite recovered his equanimity, that was out of the question. Even by daylight he avoided the spot with a holy horror. Only in his dreams, which were dark and troubled, did he visit it —to see the face of the murdered man in the darkness, and the hand of the murdered man pointing at him with cold, decaying finger. The day after the murder he had been greatly unsettled by a visit from Tim Linney, who demanded news of his master and said that he had not returned to the caravan all night. Tim seemed greatly troubled, but gave vent to no very violent ebullitions of grief. When he was done Matt sat by the fireside and looked long and keenly at William Jones. “What are you staring at?” cried he, fidgeting uneasily under her gaze. “Nowt,” said Matt; “I were only wondering”— “Then don’t go wondering,” exclaimed the good man, rather inconsistently. “You mind your own business and don’t be a fool!” And he turned testily and gazed at the fire. But Matt, whose eyes were full of a curious light, was not to be abashed. “Ain’t you well, William Jones?” she asked. ‘l’m well enough—l am.” “I’ts queer, ain’t it, that the painter chap never come home?” “How should I know?” growled William. “Maybe he’s gone back where he come from.” “Or maybe he’s drownded? Or maybe summat else has happened to him?” suggested Matt. “Never you mind him, my gal. He’s all right, never fear. Anctif he ain’t it’s no affair o’ yours, or mine neither. You go along out and play.” Matt went out as directed, and it was some hours before she returned. She found her guardian seated in his old place by the fire, looking at vacancy. He started violently as sho entered and made a clutch at the rude piece of ship’s iron which served as ft poker. “Be it you, Matt? Lor, how you startled me! I were—l were—taking a doze.” “I’ve been up yonder,” said Matt. “Up where?” "Up to “he patnter chap’s cart He ain’t come back, and the man is searchin’ for him all up and down the place.” Fortunately it was very dark, so that she could not ace the expression of her hearer's face. She walked to the fireplace, and, taking a box of lucifers from a ledge, began to procure a light with the view etf igniting the

rashlight fixed to the table. But tn a moment William blew out the match and snatched the box from her. “What are you doin’ of?” he cried. “Wasting the matches, as if they cost nowt.’ You’ll come to the workus* afore you’re done.” The days passed and there was no news of the absent man. Every day Matt went up to the caravan to make inquiries. At last one afternoon she returned, looking greatly troubled; her eyes were red, too, as if she had been crying. “What’s the matter now?” demanded WiHiam, who had left his usual seat and was standing at the door. “Nowt,” said Matt, wiping her eyelids with the back of her hand. “Don’t you teH no lies. You’ve heerd summat? Stop! What’s that there under your arm?” All at once he had perceived that she carried a large roll of something wrapped in brown paper. He took it from her and opened it nervously. It was the crayon portrait of herself executed by the defunct artist. “Who gave you this here?” cried William- Jones, trembling more than ever. “Tim.” “Who’s he?” “Him as come looking arter his master. The painter chap ain’t round; and now Tim’s goin’ away in the cart to

“WHO GAVE YOU THIS HEBE!” CRIED WILLIAM JONES.

tell his friends. And he give me this—my pictur’; he give it to me to keep. His master said I were to have it; and I mean to keep it now he’s dead!” William Jones handed back the picture, and seemed relieved, indeed, when it was out of his hands. “Dead?” he muttered, not meeting ■ Matt’s eyes, but looking right out to sea. “Who told you he was dead?” Matt did not reply, but gazed at William so long and so significantly that the man, conscious of her scrutiny, turned, and plunged into the darkness of his dwelling. An hour later a loud voice summoned him forth. He went to the door, and there was Monk, of Monkshurst. It was the first time they had met since they parted on the night of the murder. Monk was dressed in a dark summer suit, and looked unusually spick and span. “Where’s the girl?” he cried, after a whispered colloquy of some minutes. “Matt, where are you?” In answer to the call Matt appeared at the door. ■ No sooner did she perceive Monk than she trembled violently and grew very pale. “Come here, Matt,” he said, with an insinuating smile. “See! I’ve brought something for you—something pretty for you to wear.” As he spoke he drew from his waistcoat pocket a small gold ring, set with • turquoise stones. But Matt still trembled, and shrank away. “I don’t want it!—l sha’n’t wear it,” she cried.

“Nonsense, Matt!” said Monk. “Why, it’s a ring fit for a lady. Come, let me put it on your finger.” So great seemed her agitation, so deep her dread of him, that she could not stir; so that when he approached, laughing, and caught her round the waist, he slipped the ring on her finger before she could resist. But it only remained there a moment. With a quick, sharp cry, she tore herself free, and, taking the ring off, threw it right away from her upon the sand. Then with a wild gesture of fear and loathing, she rushed into the cottage. William Jones walked over and picked up the ring, while Monk stood scowling darkly after the fugitive. “What the devil ails the girl?” cried the latter, with a fierce oath, pocketing the present. “Dunno. She's never been the same since—since the painter chap went missing. I’m afeered he turned the gal’s head.” “He’ll turn no more heads,” muttered Monk under his breath. He added aloud and with decision: “There must be an end to this. She must be married to nse at once.” “Do you mean it, master? When you spoke on it fust I thought you was joking.” “Then you were a fool for your pains. She’s old enough and bold enough and vixenish enough; but I’ll tame her. I tell you there must be no delay. My mind’s made up, and I’ll wait no longer.” Sinking their voices they continued to talk together for some time. Now Matt was crouching close to the threshold, and had heard every word of the above conversation, and much that followed it. When Monk walked away and disappeared, leaving William J ones ruminant at the broken gate* she suddenly reappeared. Curiously enough all her excitement had departed. Instead of weeping or protesting, she looked at William Jones--and laughed. Monk had left hi# horse at the coastguard station. Remounting, he rode rapidly away through the sand hills in the direction of the lake. As he approached the spot of the old encamp ment, he saw that the caravan had gone He rode on thoughtfully till he gained the highway, when he put his horse into a rapid trot. Just before he

fahned the gate and avenue near as which he had first encountered Brinkley, he saw the caravan before him oa the dusty road. He hesitated for a moment; then hurried rapidly forward, and, arriving close to the vehicle, saw the Irishman’s head looking round at him from the driver’s seat He beckoned, and Tin pulled up. “Has your master returned? I am informed that he has been missing for some day a” Tim shook his head very dolefully. “No, sir; sorra sight have I seen of him for three days and three nights. I’m going back wid the baste and the house, to tell his friends the bad news Maybe it’s making fun of me he is, and I’ll find him somewheres on the road.” ‘I hope you will,* said Monk, sympathetically. “I think —hum —it is quite possible he has, as you suggest, wandered homeward. Good day to you.” So saying, Monk turned off by the gate which they had just reached, and rode away up the avenue. Tim looked after him till he disappeared. Then the same curious change came over him which had come over Matt after she had been listening to the colloquy between Monk and William Jones. He laughed! Chapter xv. A BRIDAL PARTY AND A LITTLE SVRPRIBB. A week passed away. The shadow of the caravan no longer fell on the green meadow by the lake, and the struggling population of Aberglyn, unsuspicious of foul play, had already forgotten both the caravan and the owner. And if facts were to be taken Into consideration in estimating the extent of her memory, Matt, too, had forgotten. It was common talk now that she, the grammarlcss castaway, the neglected protege of William Jones, was to be married to the master of the great house! Nay, the very day was fixed; and that very day was only two ; sunrises distant; and Monk, of Monks hurst, had in his pocket a special license, which he had procured, at an {expenditure of five pounds, from London. [TO BB OOirnXtTßD.]

HOLIDAYS IN COLONIAL TIMES.

Public Officials Took Life Easy When Now York Was a British Colony. Public functionaries performing official duties in halcyon days of old New York, when it was a British colony, had a pretty easy time of it. Their pay was liberal and was sure. His majesty, the king of Great Britain, was careful of his servants, and there were plenty of holidays. A contrast between ths number of these and the number legally observed at present shows how much more time for pleasure and recreation the old-time officials were permitted to enjoy. The legal holidays in the New York departments are New Year’s day, Washington's birthday, Decoration day, independence day, Labor day, election day. Thanksgiving day and Christmas day—eight in all, exclusive of the Saturday half holiday. These are the eight days observed in the city and in the federal departments of New York. Hero is a list of the holidays observed at the New York custom house in the last year of English rule: New Year’s day, the queen’s birthday, anniversary of King Charles’ execution, Shrove Tuesday, Ash Wednesday, Lady day, Good Friday, Easter Monday, Easter Tuesday, St. George's day, King Charles’ restoration, king’s birthday, Whit Monday, Whit Tuesday, prince of Wales’ birthday, powder plot anniversary. Christmas, Christmas holidays (three days), Fast day, Thanksgiving day, election day, ’college commencement day. These were the stated holidays. Special ones were added from time to time as occasion seemed to justify, as “holiday in token of the safe arrival of a packet,” holiday “in commemoration of the king’s safe return from a sea voyage,” “holiday in commemoration of the opening of a new street,” “holiday in commemoration of the repulse of the Indians,” and other similar occasions of public office closing. The English officials in New York believed above all things else in having a good time. They did not regard a public office as a public trust They disliked pernicious activity, and, above all, desired plenty of time for recuperation from their arduous duties. Some of the pretexts for abandoning work seem, at the present time, very quaint A clerk in charge of one of the government departments closed it abruptly one morning, leaving this sign to account for his absence:

GONE TO SEE A WHALK IN THE RIVER.

Several whales-had been seen in the harbor before that. Diligence did not characterize the public servants Their minds inclined to holidays, and the local inhabitants who had no voice in affairs had no alternative but to acquiesce, the king ’s will prevailing, and a majority of the employes of the government officers being the younger sons of aristocratic Englishmen, who had infiueAce enough at court to have them billeted upon the people of the colonies. It need hardlj be added that no contemporaneous re former had the hardihood to propose that these English functionaries should work “on time.” The American government put an end to wholesale holidays as it did to alien officials ic New York.—N. Y. Sun.

The Ultimate Sacrifice.

Two tramps were trudging along the dusty roads on a hot afternoon because the harvest hands wouldn’t let them stop in the shade to rest, and they had had nothing to eat or drink since the night before. "Hungry?” asked one. “Yes, but I’m drier,” was the gloom; response. “What would you give for a nice, cold glass of beer.” “Willie,” responded tiie o<b*« earnestly, “I’d almost vsrk Is* IL*

ANYONE CUN OLgu At the expense of little money and his spare AJ&AyFy time obtain a fair ing education. STUDY AT HOME THROUGH THS SPRAGUE UNIVERSITY OF CORRESPONDENCE INSTRUCTION, Compruluf the leadia< cotrefipoadence schools in the world. SUBJECTS TAUGHT. I 1 The School of Law prepare* pupils for admission I Iu ¥1 to the bar, by an extended, thorough course. Hu I - orer x,600 students in every part of the country. I I fill Dll II 10 Ml This school teaches journalistic ! JuunNflUom “*'«“• ml/CCDIMP This trhool I, conducted by •ft t til II oue of ,hc • bl “ t ,c * cbtr « of ,I,M book-keeping in America. OLi (IDT Ulain ThisKhoolte*che»»borth*ndby OnUll I •llAllU i>es ' from the l«uiimiii linnv g iunlne , 0 t*,, elpcrt worlc PDCCV nn fl I A TIN Tbit Khool teiche. inn,. bHttK ana IAI.IH bon to the most advanced work in the cfaaaka. The above schools teach by the cerreipondeare method only, and reeoguis. no rivals In ? i their respective fields. t • Addrevs, Bering In J .am, rv-flTny < which school you are 5 '*7 interested, and in- ! J. U A close ten cents in E Stamps for catalogue, J Each school has Sep- | 4 state catalogue. Zj&aW jQmK&Vz 'A J * CoTNCR ‘ JR »! jxY Sec’y & Treas., ■ ©BTROIT. MICH, j Telephone Bldg, j HUMPHREYS’ Dr. Humphrey*’ Sperl tie. are scientifically and carefully prepared Remedies, used for year* la private practice and for over thirty yearn by th. people with entire success. Every single Speclfi. a special cure for the disease numed. They euro without drugging, purging or reducing the system and are In fact and deed the Hoverelgu llemedic* of the World. ■o. eyasa. rmesa I—Fevers, Congestions, Inflammations.. .25 Jl—Worm., Worm Eever, Worm Colic 25 B—Teething; Colic, Crying, Wakefulness .95 4— Diarrhea, of Children or Adults 25 ? Coughs, Colds, Bronchitis.. 25 B-Neuralgla, Toothache, Faceache 25 0— Headache., Sick Headache, Vertigo.. .25 10—Dyspepsia, Biliousness, Constipation. .25 11— Suppressed or Painful Periods. .. .25 12—Whites, Too Profuse Periods 25 13—Croup, Laryugltia, Hoarseness 25 14—Salt Rheum, Erysipelas, Eruptions . .25 15—Rheumatism, Rheumatic Pains 25 16—Malaria, Chills, Fever and Ague 25 19-Cutarrh, Influenza, Cold in the Head. .25 SO—Whooping Cough 25 27—Kidney Dlsenses 25 88—Nervous Debility 1.00 30—Urinary Weakneus, Wetting Bed.. .25 HUMPHREYS’ WITCH HAZEL OIL, “The Pile Ointment.’’-Trial Size. 25 Cis. Sold by Drurgfiito, or n«nt poet-paid on receipt of prlott Ehi. Humphrkyo l Manual (144 pagei,) mailkd fmkb. MVHPIIKKYB* MID. CO., 111 A 118 WUUam BL, KBW TOBI, SpecTFics.

A ib A A *■ A A.q A..4.A A , KENTS

]; Caveat*, and Trade-Mark* obtained, and all Pat-' j 11 ent business conducted for Moderate fees. ! i (Our Office is Opposite U. S. Patent Office 1 ! and we can secure patent in less limo than those , remote from Washington. |i Send model, drawing or photo., with deserlp- < > ton. We advise, if patentable or not, free ol j charge. Our fee not due till patent is secured. ! i J A Pamphlej, “How to Obtain Patenta,” with<' J cost of same in the U. S. and foreign countries ’J I sent free. Address, , i C.A.SNOW&CO. i Cor. 4th & Columbia Practlcnl Builneia Methods. No Copying from Batet moderate. Normal course. Wrltf for Calalofu* to J. CADDEN. President.

iAMAH WIACQUAINTEO WITH THS GEOGRAPHY op the country whs OBTAIN MUCH INFORMATION PROM A STUDY OP THIO MAP OP THg !moit r. 0 rV y* GREAT ROCK ISLAND ROUTE (<X, B. L A r. Md C., K. 4 M. »>yß.) Southwest. It includes . a °CK ISLAND, DAVENfcSSJxSS? koines, council bli/fes. waBALLS, MINNEAPOLIS. ATdHISON, LBAVENTOPEKA, COLOBADO BP HINGS, DENVEu, PUAmLO, and hundreds of prosperous cities and towns—travoruln* vest areas of the richest farmin* land* in the west. SOLID VESTIBULE EXPRESS TRAINS lAadln* all competitors in splendor aad luxury of between CHICAGO and COLOBADO SP BINGS, DENVBB and PUBELO. Similar magnificent VESTIBULE TRAIN servioo (dally) between CHICAGO and COUNCIL <OMAgA 2I between CHICAGO and KANSAS CITY. Modern Day Coaches, elegant Dinin* Cars (serving delicious meals at moderate prices), restful Beclinln* Chair Cars (seats BBEE) J? - dlr ® ct Un ® u NELSON, HOBTON, HUTCHINSON. WICHITA. ABILENE, OALD wjgLL, and all points in Southern Nebraska, Kansas, Colorado, the Indian Territory and Texas. California Excursions dallm Choice of routes to the Pacific coast. The Famous Albert Lea Route Buns superbly equipped Express Trains, dally, between Chicago, St. Joseph, Atchison. Leavenworth, Kansas City, and Minneapolis and St. pauL The popular tourist line to the scenic resorts and huntin* and fishing grounds of the northwest. Its Watertown and Sioux Balls branch traverses the great "WHEAT AND DAIRY BELT” ol Horthernlowa, Southwestern Minnesota and East The Short Line via Seneca and Kankakee offers fhoilitles to travel to and from Indianapolis, Cincinnati and other Southern points. Tor Tickets, Maps, Polders, or desired inform* tion, apply at any Coupon Ticket Office, or address E. ST. JOHN* E. A. HOLBROOK, OenlManager. Genl Tkt. * Bass. Aft, CHICAGO. ILL. WEBSTER ZUi 'ARRIDPt-dK/”iJBRARf 1000 more W» rds and nearly 2000 more Ilins trations than any other American Dictionary, • An Invaluable Companion in every School and at every Fireside. dd by all Bookseller*. Illustrated Pkmphlsf sent free. JUBBI Ui

McCLURE’S MAGAZINE For 1894. Th* editors of McClure** Majafiine aim to publish the Best Literature ...AND THE... Most Interesting Knowledge and to make every line in the maga. Bine both instructive and enteri taining. 100 hen and women famous in LITERATURE and ACHIEVEMENT will ba represented la MeClure’a Magazine, either as authors of articles or as participants to dialogues and Interviews, or as subducts sd articles. Stevenson’s New Novel. A ROMANCE OP THE SOUTH SEAS, by Robert Leals Stevsnson and Lloyd f Osbourne, will run through four numbers, beginning with Jan- (jg ■ary. Thio »tory is one of thrill- jSSx Ing adventure and mysterious happening*, reminding one of f ) a **Treasure Island,” and of “The XvJzr Wrecker." **■’ William Dean Howells Will contribute a serial oteqp t 0 run through three numbers,. VKf “or* especially for younger' /TVK fiJ readers, and, like all his Morits K toT young people, it will be just X M lnlere,tin < t 0 the k elders. i Short Stories ; ■*»•■• will be contributed by well-known writers, among others i Bret Harte, Joel Chandler Harris, ' Conan Doyls, Frank R. Stockton, Harriet Prsscett Spofford, “Q" Clark Russell, Rudyard Kipling, OcUve Th.net, and I. ZangwilL Real Conversations. Interviews, Intimate Personal Sketches, sad! Studies es Orest Hen in Action, will continue to be diarked features of coming issues. Undar this heading are announced the following : D. L. HOODY, the Han and his work, by PROFESSOR HENRY DRUfIHOND. This is the first complete study /“"b, »f Mr. Moody's career which has ever been prepared. MJ Gladstone, As a Leader of Mon, iI ff \/\[ By HAROLD FREDERIC. , Philip D. Armour. By ARTHUR WARREN. Mr. Armour la psw* bably th. greatest merchant In the history ol the world. He is also a great philanthropist. Thia article will present the many sides of his acstv. Itles, and will be fully illustrated. Bismarck, Jr At his Orsatsst, S sv— ARCHIBALD FORBBB. Ruskin at Home. - By n. H. APIELHANU Pierre Loti, A personal sketch, by le-vvSn. HADAHB ADAH. yk Alphonse Daudet, Jules V.ru., | Sardou, AUJW Andrew Carnegie Archdeacon Farrar, * t Dumas, the Younger. Camilo Flamarlon, and CHARLES A. DANA are the subjects of articles i* the form of interviews, in which the matter is mainly autobiographical. These articles in many cases give full length portraits of their subjects, the stories of om* their lives, struggles, achieve, meats and successes. These articles will be fully Illustrated. *

Famous Contributors. In addition to the special announcements aboves important contributions, some of which are unique are in preparation by: Prof. Henry Drummond, Herbert D. Ward, William Dean Howells, Bret Harte, H. H. Boyesen, H. de Blowltx, Thomas Nelson Pag*, Prank R. Stocktea. W. E. Henley, Andrew Lang, Margaret Deland, Archdeacon Parra*. Robert Louis Stevenson, Charles A. Dana, George W. Cable. Gilbert Parker, Elizabeth Stuart Phelps. Edge of the Future. Articles under this head will deal with the Mass velsof Science, and interesting subjects in the field* of Railroadiag, Electricity, Ships, Arts Relating to the Prolongation of Life, Explorations, etc. NOTABLE FEATURES of the Magazine: Timely articles, Papers of Adventure, Progressive Portraiture, Stranger than Fiction, which have proved so popular, will continue to characterize coming lasosa The regular price of McClure's Magazine is 15 cents a Copy. SLSo a Yean. How to Get tills Magazine. We Have Made Special Arrangement* With the Publishers, S. S. McCLURE, Limited, OP 743 AND 745 BROADWAY, NEW YORK* Whereby We Can Offer the People's mot AND MCCLURE’S MAGAZINE In (combination for Only $2.25 a Year, Payable in Advance Bj Subscribing for th* FGODIe’S Pilot You Can Have this Splendid Magasino for Only 4183 a Year, or UH Cent* a Copy. Address PILOT PUBLISHING C(\ PJt NSSELABU, IND.