St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 16, Number 38, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 28 March 1891 — Page 6

THE END OF DAY. BY SHIRLEY WYNNE. Fa*t away The long and changeful day— The glory of the azure dawn, The dewdrops shining on the lawn, The sunrise, when heav’n’s gate Stands open, and the state Os morn is companied by angel choirs; The noon’s unclouded fires. When the rose dropped for very light opprest. And song-birds sought their nest. Past away The rain-clouds chill and gray; The ten-pest, lightning-winged, Uy red horizon ringed. That tore the blossoms sweet Aad bruise 1 them ’neath its foot; The pallid sunset flame That grew and overcame, Till, in the golden pageant of the west The last cloud sunk to rest. Past away The burden of the day; Gone are the gold and red, Tho sunset colors fled. The dark’ning, deep'ning sky Holds one pure star on high, A silver of heav’nly flame to light Tho watches of the night; Dimmer and dimmer yet grow wood and hill. And all is hushed and otilL Past away Tho changes of tho day; Hours dark and bright have run Their course. All work is done; Or good or bad, ’tis o’er, And we can work no more. Joys, fears and pains Are done, and only remains— Best, sweeter farthan tongue can tell, If we have labored well! Watt J Remarkable Romance. BY EMILY THORNTON. CHAPTEK XXXIII-Continued. In order to do this, tho household goods, as well as the contents of the stable, were to be sold at auction; while the elegant house and grounds would be put into the hands of an agent to be disposed of as soon as a suitable offer should be made. These things were all accomplished in due time, and on the day when the Queen was ready to sail. Dr. Earle Glendenning, as we must now call him, together with Tony, who was retained in their service, I half carried, half led his still suffering parent into a comfortable stateroom, where the latter instantly induced him to lie down, in order to rest after his journey from Yonkers, Soon they were steaming away from shore, and Earle noticed that every breath his father drew seemed to revive him, and before they arrived at their destination his old enemy, asthma, had almost departed, and his other difficulties were also exceedingly lessened. By the time they reached Glendenning — Hall Sir Fitzroy was able to walk around with a cane, and really seemed to have t a he n a RCW lease upon health and life. ““WiUi"]oy Karie marked this chnnin- - and when he saw how intensely happy he was thus to be restored to his own home and rightful place, and how proud to boast an honorable name and righteous life, he thanked God and prayed that he might be spared long to its enjoyment, for his lengthened days he knew would add to his own pleasure, as it was so sweet to own a father's love, a father's blessing. But in his heart he felt that no hope of permanent change for the better could be possible, as his maladies were in.i timetable; therefore, he redoubled his watchfulness over his beloved form, standing ready to aid by skill and advice, as far as Providence would permit, to check the great weakness he felt sure would ensue as soon as a reaction, after all this excitement, should take place. I need not describe the intense delight of the lovers when they were again united, or the surprise Ethel felt on being told that Earle had found a father since he left her, and a new but rightful name and inheritance. This news he had not written, preferring to tell it in person. Sir Fitzroy was delighted with his future daughter-in-law, for Earle could not rest until he had taken Ethel to the Hall, in order to make them acquainted. His feeble health made this visit perfectly proper, and certainly gave great p'casure to the old gentleman. From that time he, as well as Earle, looked forward to the wedding-day, which was finally decided to take place by the twentieth of October, with profound pleasure. A few days after their arr .al at the Hall, Sir Fitzroy to d his son that he felt sufficiently recruited from his fatigue to visit the ruins, and see the room so long | the prison of his unfortunate brother, and, leaning on Earle s arm, he proceeded to the mournful place. It was well a skilled physician attended him on this sad visit, as he was greatly overcome by all he saw. that so vividly , — told of the cruel sufferings one he had loved had endured for twenty-five long years. Tho tears he shed over each symbol of that long captivity were almost unnerv- I ing, and Earle led him away from the I spot, resolving that all those, harrowing | remembrances should, if possible, be re- I moved from the place. If not in his father’s lifetime, at least as soon as he had passed away. But to his great surprise, after he had rested and become calm, Sir Fitzroy said voluntarily: “I never, never wish to go there again! 1 have seen it all once—let that suffice. Now I wish the old ruined part with the concealed room torn down as soon as it can be done. ” “Father, I am rejoiced to hoar you say so. The place is too full of sadness to be allowed to stand. I wish all to be bright and beautiful before my bride comes home. ” “Study out, then, Earle, what you would like to erect in their place. The tower with its beautiful views can remain, and something ornamental take the place of those terrible ruins.” Earle waited for no further orders, but that very day engaged workmen to at once demolish all evidences of that sindyed spot, and soon an elegant gallery for pictures and statuary stood where had been, hitherto, but neglect and decay. CHAPTER XXXIV. ETHEL’S BIRTHDAY. The time for opening the package left

in Ethol’s charge by Mrs. Nevergall was now fast approaching, it being the first of October, and consequently she began to feel exceedingly anxious in regard to the unknown parent, who was to present himself upon the fifth. W hat sort of a person should she find in him, and would he be satisfied with her attainments and appearance? These questions were continually presenting themselves to the mind of the poor girl. On the morning of the second, a letter was placed in her hand by one of the servants, and as “private” was written on the outside, she at once repaired to her room, in order to read it while alone. The contents, to her surprise, ran as follows: “Very strange will it seem, my daughter, to receive this, your first letter, from an entirely unknown parent. Not from any lack of paternal feeling have I de- j nied myself the pleasure of seeing my only child until she reaches her twentyfirst birthday, but from a train of circumstances which made this course the wisest I, however, am now counting the days when I shall at last clasp her in my arms, and give to her a father's kisses and blessings. I presume you have in your possession a package to be opened i on that eventful day. I have seen Mr. I Rogers, and he has told me of the death I of your foster mother, and that you are I residing at Castle Cairn, tho country resident a of Edward Worthington, Duke of Westmoreland, situated in shire. “My child, I shall leave Liverpool on tho morning train, reaching the castlo at noon. Until my appearance on the scene, I prefer that you do not open the package. Together wo will break the seal. Until then I will only sign myself, your affectionate Father.”

Noon of tho long expected day at length arrived, and her grace tho Duchess of Westmoreland, who condescended to feel considerable interest in tho young governess of her granddaughter, together with Lady Claire, was seated in the drawing-room, striving to calm the unusual agitation of the anxious and excited Ethel, who restlessly paced up and down the elegant apartment, or flitted from window to window, in order to watch the drive, to catch the first glimpse of her coming sire. At length her weary watch was rewarded by seeing a hansom dash up to tho entrance and an elegant-looking gentleman descend. One moment passed, then the door opened ami the stranger entered. Tall and exquisitely propot tinned, with an air at once distingue and easy, handsome features and large dark eyes, hair and full beard a rich brown, in which blended a few gray threads. This was the picture of the one who paused a moment near the threshhold to survey the little group of ladies. Then, as Ethel advanced a few steps to meet him. he exclaimed: “My darling daught, r. I am rejoiced to see you!” at the same time folding her to his bosom in a joyful embrace. Holding her away from him at length, for another look at her beautiful face, he added: “My child, you are the perfect image of your mother, and to my partial eyes she was the most beautiful woman 1 have over seen. ” Those words were spoken in so low a tone that tho ladies present had not caught their meaning, ami murmuring in return that she must introduce him to the waiting Duchess, he allowed her to lead him forward while she presented Drawing close to her grace, < n being thus introduced, he turned a half-quiz-zical look upon her, which caused her to spring up instantly as sin l met it. exclaiming:

“Edward! Can this be my son Ed ward”” own, dear mother! then you do know me after all these years?” was the answer, as lie held forth his arms to embraee her. Amazed at this unlooked-for revelation, Ethel and l ady Claire clasped I hands in mutual sympathy, and looked on in silent wonder. After this fond greeting, the Duke turned and saluted his sister's child, whom he had never seen, after which he i took Ethel's hand, and leading lu r to his mother, said: “Now, dearest mother, let me ask for a share of votir love to be given to my dautrhter, Lady Ethel Worthington, for in her you see your own granddaughter. ” “Edward, this is a surprise, indeed.” : returned her grace, as she pressed the sweet girl to her bosom and kissed her bright, young brow. “Ethel has already won our affections during her brief residence here, without knowing that she could lawfully claim them. But now, please, tell vour mother who you married. and why you kept your marriage so long a secret?” “B‘fore answering your question, my dear mother, we will proceed to open the package left in Ethol's charge.” Taking the small bundle of what seemed papers and lett -rs from his daughter's hand, th' Duke cut the strings and drew forth the contents. The first thing to meet the eye was a marriage certificate, setting forth that on October 18, 18—, just twenty-two veaTS before, in New York City. Edward Worthington, only son of Charles, tenth Duke of Westmoreland, was united in marriage to Florence Nevergail, daughter of the late John Nevergail, of London, by Rev. Henry Morris, D. D. Next came to view a magnificent circle I diamond Tins which he bad «ivcn to hor 1 at tli«- time of th<-ir <-ntrai<omont. and a I plain gold band, containing their joint initials and the date of their marriage. The last was liis xvife's wedding ring, i Then appeared a small locket, set with j diamonds, containing tho likenesses ot I both; and as he threw the gold chain to which it was attached over Ethel’s neck j he bale her wear it hereafter, “for the sake of her parents.” As tho Duchess and Lady Claire looked at the beautiful face of Ethel's poor, young mother, they were each struck with the likeness she bore to the . picture, and thought she might almost have been its original. I “Now, my dear moth‘i-and daughter, I will tell you why I have so long concealed the fact of my marriage. “You, mother, can scarcely blame mo when you remember the set and stern disposition my father ever possessed. His will was law, his rule a rod of iron, and a child daring to disobey him was sure to be punished with the utmost severity. “When I was only a stripling of nineteen years, I had accompanied my father to a fox hunt, and after the chase was over, on our return ride ho commenced । talking about my being heir to his title and wealth, and about the intense desire he had that when I married I should select a wife from a certain number of ladies belonging to the nobility. “‘I remember that,’ I replied. ‘But, , father, perhaps I could not love

i either of tho persons named. Suroly y °u would not wish mo to marry listM?’ my S affectlon b ^ng en- “ ‘I surely do not expect love to have a single consideration. Wealth, title and beauty are all that is requisite.’ nn i 1 i a J h 7’ 1 ropllod ’ <J have always exo° „A° 7° B °?° s ) veot Voung girl, and « T? 1 acpo unt to marrv her ’ then your expectations will meet a was the u" 1 gri T’° U 8 dl3a PPointment,’ . was tho stern reply. j “Wheeling his horse so that he faced ' t U ?‘ e r ? ad \ ho cxten ded his right , hand towards heaven, and then an 1 : there took the solemn oath. u “Tho words were so seared into mv heart by my astonishment that I could never forget a single one of them: “ -01100 for all, Edward, hear mo and mark what I say: I solemnly ea'l on God to witness that never wi 1 I consent to your wedding any person notinyourown thaf k Never l NeV ° r ’ b ° y: rcmcmb er “ ‘This vow is now recorded above, and I shall never break it. Seo that you never ask it of me.' “From that hour matrimony and ladies lost, all charms for me. J, as you know mingled little in society, and found my chief amusement in study, hunting and traveling. When about twenty-six years old I went to America, and while in New York 1 accidentally -t Gertrude Nevergail, who was the daughter of Sir Geoffrey Glendenning, our neighbor at the Hail. She, in making what the*considered a plebeian marriage, had bet : cast off and disowned by her pro^ ■ father and all her friends and relative^! “With her husband ami his young orphan sister, Florence Nevergall, they had left England; and Nevergall soon became a talented lawyer, respected, and received into the best society in New ! York City. “It was then, at their house, I first met and passionately loved my beautiful Florence. Infatuated to tho wildest degree with this young lady, I could not leave the place, and before many weeks passed I discovered that she reciprocated my warm devotion. “When she did confess her feelings, I saw at once that asking for the consent of my father would be useless, so I urged a private marriage. To this she consented, if I could gain the appro! ation of her brother and his wife. “In remembrance of their own happy life, brought about by a marriage solely for love, their consent was soon given, and in their presence wo were united. “I took my darling then to the Hotel, one of the finest in the city, where I engaged a suite of ajartments, and dropping my title, I lived with her tho happiest year of my life, under the simple name of Edward Worthington. “But. al >s! our joy was b,<t for a brief period, for when our little girl was only three weeks o'd, she loft me for ;l brighter world a never-fading heritage on high.

“After her death 1 was inconsolable. Life for me uas aimless; so 1 eared not what became of me. Then Mrs. Nevergail came with her sisterly advice and consolations, and in Iter pious efforts 1 again regained my outward composure. “Outward. I -ay. for within my heart remained that horrible, overwhelming, wild, and utter diso'atiom “Mrs. Nevergall, vith the consent of her good husband, then offered to take charge of nty infant chill, saving perhaps at present I might not <h sir^^i . ...... i aim*" TTXUBMMMkj- iT; ™®Jmergivi n g In. ■ ma' ter con siderat 1 consented to their plan, and mad this package at that time, to be n/ until this birthday. I charged thet T keep my sectet sacredly, and to givt * little one their own name (her motWr had already namid her Ethel), ajd bring her up in every te-peet as they would had she b< on actually their own. -1 informed them that on this birthday she might be t rd this story, but until 1 reclaimed her 1 deshe I her to remain with them. If at this date my father still lived. 1 should settle upon her a suitable allowance, and perhaps visit her occasionally in New York without his knowledge. ••One vear ago he died, and I at once wrote to Mis. Nevergail the fact, and told her that 1 had now inherited the dukedom, and should consider myself free to recall my child.

“She instantly answered to the address I had given ht, communicating the fact that she was a widow, very in ar her end, anil begged me to leave Ethel with lier until she should pass away, or until, at any rate, the fifth of Octob r. She told me she should sail far England very soon, taking Ethel with her, and said that 1 could hear of her at the residence of her cousin, Mr. Rogers, at any time. 1 called these last week, as direeted, only to hear of my kind friend's death, and the astounding news that my sweet daughter was even then an inmate of Castle t airn. “Gladly I repaired hither, to meet at once daughter, mother, and niece. May we never more be parted!” “Amen, say 1 to that!” ejaculated tin' happy Duchess. “1 have been lonely, indeed, without my son. Now 1 am old and need a son's care and attention.” “Which care, rest assured, slnw 11 ' ways be yours,” again r'peati * Duke, as he stooped and pressed a v arni kiss upon her still handsome cheeks int . When in the morning Dr. Glenderf called and was t dd the news, thaiL ( |, poor wnorneis was no other than ILtlwl XX ..i tbinatoii.a. knowl. ilir.-.l ter of the Duke of WestmorehiniW heart sank within him. anil lie rotlk. only whisper in trembling tones: ’ "Will this noble relationship cause you to regret our engagement? Oh, Ethel, Ethel, will this part ns?” “Never!” was the glad reply. “My father knows too well the value of a true love, and he surely will not refuse his consent to our union. If he does, lam of age, and have promised that nothing shall stand in the way of our marriage." Nothing did separate them. The Duke was much pleased with Dr. Glendenning’s manly demeanor, and when he timidly asked for his daughter’s hand he smiled brightly and gave his consent. So Lady l-.thel Worthington married Dr. Earle Elfenstein Glendenning. amid great rejoicings and vast displays of wealth, beauty and fashion, after which the “bonnie” bride was welcomed gladly to the remodeled and greatly improved Hall, a place that still bore so strange a history Sir Fitzroy lived nearly two years after the marriage of his son, and these years were unclouded by a single sorrow. He loved his ehildn n fondly, and was greatly beloved by them in return. He died at last quite suddenly, and was laid to rest beside his brother Arthur in the family vault. Sir Earle Elfenstein Glendenning, M. D., and his beautiful wife, Lady

'■ Ethel, were ever regarded with true afy section by all their neighbors and tenants; and when, at last, the Duke, after his mother’s death, did, in his loneliness, a love and wed a second time, a lady of d rank, the Countess Teresa Lovell, they found in the new Duchess a rare addition ■ to their circle of dear ones, and the most J happy intercourse ever existed between ’ tho two families. a But a few more words remain to be ’ said; and those relate to persons whose names have been mentioned in the course i of this story. t Lady Claire Linwood developed rapid--1 ly, and a few years saw her a lovely woman, whose beauty, amiability and r wealth attracted much attention and 1 many suitors. Sho married early one Who had gained her whole heart, Lord 1 George Ashton, and they now reside in 1 London, a devoted and happy couple. J Poor Constance Glendenning, in losing 1 husband, title and wealth, became a r melancholy invalid. The fate of her former lover, whom sho dearly loved, i was so impressed upon her heart and i imagination that after she heard it in its hideousness the very name of her 3 husband in her presence brought on , nervous tremblings to such an extent r that the subject had to be banished enl tirely from her hearing. 3j The real facts of the case wore that r all the first warm love of her heart had - belonged to Sir Arthur, but when assured ’ that he was dead, she had allowed amij bition to rule her movements, and for kuk o r position had given her hand to Reginald, a person she both dreaded ,’anA disliked. a Bitterly, however, had sho regretted r the unwise step, for ho bad proved an unkind, morose and ugly companion, and under Ills influence she had allowed her whole nature to change from gentle sweetness to cold, apathetic heartlessness. as well as selfish indifference. 'i’lio horrible exposure of her husband's sin produced at length another revulsion of feeling, and with deep remorse her heart returned to her early love, dinging ever to his memory, only to shed tears over his sorrowful fate and devotion to herself, tears of unavailing regret. So she had lived and so at last sho died. Just two years after she left the Hall sho breathed her sad life away, and her last words were: “Arthur. Arthur, my only love, I come to thee now, nevermore to be parted.” [THE END.] Cold Weather Huies. Always regulate the clothing to suit the temperature; a too heavy wrap induces copious perspiration, thus causing debility, ami eonsequmitly the danger of taking cold is itur as'd. Always opm or throw off a wiap on going into a warmer atmosphere. Keep the I a”k, especially bet wet n tho sh< ulder-blades, well proti de I. as well as the chest. Never lean the lack against anything cold. After e>c ei-ing. never ride In an open carriage or near nn open car-window. Avoid draughts, in or out of doors. Never stand still in tho street. <s; ecially aft-r walking, ami mo-t parti-ti-lariy when exp s dto a cold wind. Also always avoid .- tan ling on ice or snow. Keep ti e n.otith elos< d as much as possible wh'm in the o; e । air, particulaily upon going fiom a warmer atmosphero. By br -athing through the nose the air bet omes warmed before it readies ! handkerchief, a piece iikX' i 1 the open air. is very 1 eref'dal for pers ns with weak In: gs, ai d should never be neglected when the ten p rature D at or in low freezing | oint. Nevt'r take warm drinks immediat iy before g< i u out into the cold, and never start o i a journey in th ■ morning before eating breakfast. A mbor.

Genuine amber is becoming a scarce article. It is a fossil gum. formerly produced in large quantities by trees having a rcsin<uis sap. which flowed down tin' trunks a- d collected in mas <-s at the root. It is found in the ground of marshes and other places where forests flourished in former times, and is also obtained by dredging. The German ' Ocean, Bait c and Black Seas formerly pn due -d it in considerable quantities, but the supply is i un-tant y decreasing, and unless other fie ds ar - discovered, real a niter will soon be scarce and costly. There is some >a!isfa tion in knowing tb it the imitation is ju-t as good in every way. so that even if the real amber gives out there need be no diminution in the number of ho’ilers for cigars or mouthpieces for pipes. In this country comparativ 'ly little is u-<-d -aw for these pu jscs: but in India and China large lumps are in great d< maud, for, from some cause, an amber idol is far more highly esteem d than even a golden image, and so the best amber all goes to the East to be made into gods for the jagans. The Kimlerg rten. The kindergarten is very imperfectly understood even by many parents who send their children to it It is very apt to be the case that pan-uts -end th<*ir < hildren to such a pla <■ to get rid of them for a time, a id it is often tin ■ that it cannot b - seen that the child is learning anything. Day after day and week after week nothing si ems to be learned. But. as a matter of fact, the child is gaining a knowledge of principles that will stick to it all through life. It should be lemembered that during the first seven years of a child's life it is the most improssionable A certain church autl.ority says: “Give us the child's training for the first seven years, and we do net care who has the after training.” There is a great deal of truth in that; and so the little boy and girl in the kindergarten, under competent instruction, make very rapid progress, though the fMjnt may in t always see it.- - H ot r/i Hural. An Interesting Experimont. Some time ago. the ladies of an aid society agreed t> invest a nickel ii some kind and sell it at a profit and reinvest in something else, and so on. to speculate on this capital for two week-; and see how much one could make. One lady on tire same evening of the meeting bought a cabbage with her nickel. She carried it home and sold half of it to her neighbor for a nickel. She invested that in vinegar and pickled the remaining half for twenty-five cents. She then bought twenty cents’ worth Os cloth and a spool of thread and made it up into aprons, which she sold for twenty-five cents each, and took the seventy-five cents and bought molasses and gave a candy pulling to the children, making them pay ten cents a plate for the candy, so she made two dollars and ten cents on one nickel in two weeks’ time. Money is bound to increase if properly Handled.

A S TRIKE ON THE RANCH. The Horiiy-Hantletl Cowbows Get Justice from the Cattle Karons. hen I was in New Mexico eight or nine years ago,” said Dan Quinn, who has shed undying glory on the “Old Cattleman,” “I saw a singular labor strike. Cowboys are composed of two general classes; those born to the business and those who are exported West by relatives who have wearied of them and their gay and tumultuous practices of doing nothing but spending money and accumulating bad habits. The native Western men as a rule can neither read nor write, are grave of mien, and hard men when trouble comes on. The transplanted coyboy is drunk whenever possible, but is otherwise pleasing to the eye and harmless enough. The educated ones read the newspapers to their brethren and lead in the discussions on subjects of National interest. At the time of the round-up, on the TriangleDot ranch, 1 was working for Dorsey, and went over to see if any of our eattle had mixed themselves up with the others. One of the boys of the Triangle outfit was disputatious, contentious, and much given to argument. He had been reading reports of the labor troubles in the East to the men,and in the discussion that followed had pointed out to them the fact that they were getting largely the worst of it. It was decided to strike.”

“That night it happened that Ja^nson, the agitator, was out riding herd with some others, and after their supper the other boys fell to discussing their wrong. They decided that there was no time like the present,and naming one Kelley, popularly known as ‘Texas’Kelley, from the Commonwealth in which he had his birth, as Chairman, they decided to strike. They went in a body to Co). Small’s tent. Small was bookkeeper a d acting manager of the Tri-angle-Dot ranch and was feeling plenty proud, because the regular manager had gone to Chicago and left him in charge. He was from Chicago himself and rather fresh. He had no particular business at the round-up. but bad driven out on his buckboard from the home ranch just to see the fun. ‘Anything I can do for you, gentlemen?’ he asked pleasantly enough. “ ‘They is plenty to be done, all right enough,' replied Kelley with the solemnity of a true plainsman. ‘You see, Col. Small,’ he continued, ‘the boys on this yere large has about concluded they has made enough fortunes for the haughty cattle barons of the East’—he had insensibly assimilated Jackson’s anarchistic speeches—‘and we has concluded that the thing has p-roceeded on this tiail long enough. We has become dead lived of tillin’ the coffers of Chicago plutocrats, ami they ain’t no man nor no syndicale can put its brand onto us an’ say they own us horn morell to crupper. We are free-born Americans, un' no Chicago paekin’-house prince has got title to us.’ “‘But what is it? What can Ido? ^hat do you wish?’inquired the unhappy book-keeper, firing the questions all in a breath. "‘W e lias decided to strike,’ replied the man from Texas. ‘The crushed workin’men of the East is about to arise mental t*unn o'l lull eoinimn । u mum, cavorting unrestrained over the vasty pampas, a prey to the cattle thief and Mexican. When lie had caught his wind he asked : ‘But what do you want to strike for? We are paying yon more now than men on other ranches get.’ “‘This ain't no question of finances,’ replied Kelley, with some hauteur. ‘When we don’t get what we’re worth you won’t hear no kickin’ —we’il notify von an’ pull our freight easy enough when our pay is cut. We’re just goin’ on a strike, that's all.’

“‘But what’s you grievance? What is your reason for striking ? You must have a grievance,’ insisted the bookkeeper. “‘He’s shoyely right'; ‘the Colonel’s got his nut with him every minute of the time,’ and kindred compliments came from the crowd. The men withdrew to formulate their statement of hardships, and presently returned. ‘“We ha-, after a due and deliberate considerin’ of the question,’ reported Kelly, ‘decided on this, Col. Small: We is gettin’ too much fresh beef, an’ too little salt boss, an' we strikes for that reason.’ “As salt pork was worth only $G.5t per hundred, and beet even on the range dressed scaled up to IS cents a pound, it didn’t require much figuring for Small to settle it. “‘I ought to have thought about that before, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘and I’ll start the wagons for the ranch to-night for two barrels of pork and 500 pounds of bacon. You men shall have what you want as long as I’m running things.’ Then he brought out several bottles, and Kelley, as he drank, said admiringly: ‘They is nothin’ limited nor confined about you, Col. Small, even if you come here recent,’ which sentiment the others, as they drank, echoed. When Jackson came in from riding herd at midnight and the strike and its adjustment were reported to him he expressed me utmost satisfaction with the affair And his approval of the entire proceedings. Yet he was a Yale graduate, and before reaching the age of 26 knew not the taste of pickled swine”. — Chicago Tribune. Coolies m JVru. The Chinese cooliei in Peru have rendered useful service, the railway system being in great part the work of their hands. Owing, however, to the barbarous treatment which they have received, and still receive, on certain । properties, the Chinese Government has prohibited emigration to Peru, and the supply of coolie jlabor is thus at an end. On some estates the coolies are compelled to work in irons to prevent their running away. They are also locked up at night, and undergo cruel । tortures when penishment is exercised. I The truck system prevailing, the poor coolie is always in deV to his master, । who often makes a profit even upon the opium retai’ed in part payment of wages. To the credit of she Peruvians, however, it should be said that the estates in Peru chiefly conspicuous for maltreatment of the Cbine-e laborers are owned and managed by foreigners.— Kate Field’s 11 as hirglun.

The brusque and fussy impulse of these days of false impression would rate down all as worthless because tw is unworthy. As if there were no motes in sunbeams 1 Or comets among stars ! t Or cataracts in peaceful rivers I Because one remedy.professes to. do what it never was adapted to do, are all remedies worthless ? Because one doctor lets his patient die, are all humbugs ? It requires a fine eye and a finer brain to discriminate —to draw the differential line. “ They say ” that Dr. Pierce’s Golden Medical Discovery and Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription have cured thousands. “ They say ” for a weak system there’s nothing better than the “ Discovery,” and that the “ Favorite Prescription ” is the hope of debilitated, feeble women who need a restorative tonic and bracing nervine. And here’s the proof _• -V one or both. If they don help you, tell the World’s Dispensary Medical Association so, and you get your money back again. SHILOH’S CONSUMPTION CURE. The success of this Great Cough Core is without a parallel injhe history of medicine. All druggists are authorized to sell it on a positive guarantee, a test that no other cure can successfully stand. That it may become known, the Proprietors, at an enormous expense, are placing a Sample Bottle Free into every home in the United States and Canada. If you have a Cough, Sore Throat, or Bronchitis, use it, for it will cure you. If your child has the Croup, or Whooping Cough, use it promptly, and relief is sure. If you dread that insidious disease Consumption, use it. Ask your Druggist for SHILOH’S CURE, Price io cts., 50 cts. and SI.OO. JI your Lungs are sore or Back lame, use Shiloh’s Porous Plaster, Price 25 cts.

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• - * ‘ 'and no bad ©fleets. Strict ly confidential Send Co. for circulars and ’estimonials. Address Dr» O. W.F. SNYDER, 218 Stat© street, Chicago, 111.

A S T H MA . Popha n's Asthma Specific i Gives immediate relief. I It is believed to be the —■ bold Uy Ui - jbent by mail, postpaid, for *1 per Box. Address

THOS. POPHAM. 2001 Ridge Avenue, Philada. FOR OLD AND YOUNG? Tutt’s I.iver Pills act as kindly on the child, the delicate female or infirm old age, as upon the vigorous man. Tutt’s Fills give tone and strength to the weak stomach. bowels, kidneys and bladder. h]THE WONDERFUL IjtuBURGIQHAIR «S3^CCMBININGSaRTICLES'>2 FURNITURE ■ f\O VALI D Z^&^Zl wheel: J A| RS!7i 4¥ v -^ <52 uhotonle factory pncu/V; Z/9S.L-, w b - , Hll and ship goods to 1» OI WHEEL CH 1131 paid for on delivery, 1 • V 7 /! \'7k TO HIRE. Send stamp for Cata- V-lMf /IM SseeciaL I USB logos. Name gomU d^mraL Xi^f. DELI VERY. LUBUKG MFG. CO., 145 N. Sth St. Philada.. Pa Scotts! Fmulsion Os Pure Cod Liver Oil with > Hypophosphites Of,Lime and Soda. There are emulsions and emulsions, I and there is still much skimmed milk which masquerades as cream. Try a* t I they will many manufacturers cannot so disguise their cod liver oil as to make it palatable to sensitive stomachs. Scott's Emulsion of PURE NORWEGIAN COD liej:r ojl, — ,-f Jifji phites is almost as P" for this reason as well as for the fact of the stimulating qualities of the Hypophosphites, Physicians frequently pre- | scribe it in cases of i CONSUMPTION, 1 I SCROFULA, uro: CHITIS and ? I CHROXIC COUGH or SEVERE COLD. ( ‘ All Druggists sell it, but be sure you get ) ’ the genuine, as there are poor imitations. J The Soap that Cleans Most is Lenox.