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. -' ' I 1 ? the Real Thing. Virginia Rosamond Josephine, our colored mail from the far south, .3 the proud possessor of a rhinestone belt buckle which Ler mistress brought her home from Paris not long since. Teddy askedrher the other day? 'Are they real diamonds, 'Ginny?" "No, inde. T*n she replied, with a toss of her woolly pompadour. "Dey's real grindstones. Missy fetched 'em to me from Paradise!"?October Lippincott's. ; ' ~ v They Quit Even. A red-headed man met a bald-headed man on ?he street one day* The redheaded. man said to the bald-headed man: * * <4UnK V* rv*?/N AM f ho VQ hOOTl iiuir luui C uvii i iccui lu uu? v much hair where you came from." *"0h, yes," replied >he bald-headed man, "UMre^ks-pplenty of hair,~but it was alEfed, and I wouldn't have it"? Octobe^ Lippincott's Magazine. S ^Typhfti(lJ?ever. Tlie &erag;e mortality from typhoid fever i^tkree times as great in American as to Bwropean cities. The cities in the S^.tes which suffer most from tlyuTSea'se are "Washington, Chicago, I&ston, Philadelphia and Providence. in that order. I?M$R*r?Td. SIOO. Tlie reitlera m. thifc paper wiLTbe pleased to .'earn thai there is at least one dreaded disease thaocience has been able to cure in all itsstageBand that is Catarrh. Hail's Catarrh Cure is tfe only positive^emwnow known to 1 he mediffcl fraternity. Catarrh being a constitutional disease, requires a constitutional treatment Hall's Catarrh. Cure is taken internally, ao^ng directly upon the blood and mucous surfcpes of the system, thereby destroying the fijpndafiaa of the disease, :md giving tht> patient strength by building up the consdruMoo; fuid assisting nature in doing it3 work. Ib? prej3sistax& have so much faithin its urative powers that they offer Ono Hunr tired Pofcglbfaay case that it fails to cure, fcend forest of testimonials. Address 1 F. J. Cheney <k Co., Toledo, 0. Sold by 1)ruggists, 73c. Hall's ymiyPills are the best. j ? Mining in Mexico. Mexicjis rajiMfr becoming the great est of Aiing countries. One hundred ;;v ar.d sidfr-four new mines were regis. tered iifiiie month recently. Of these . nineteei were gold, forty-eight gold ;.l\ and siii r,1 while only forty-eight produced r p&ctovts metal. Ip'. Cough "I are made a most thorough 1 trial c A.yer's Cherry Pectoral and 8 am pi >arcd to say that for alldis. - ? eases I the lungs it never dis&pI ^ . Early Finley, fronton, O. I wonY^re rhe^'raatism; | I we never said it would. 8 I It won't cure dyspepsia; 1 8 we never claimed it. But I 9 it will dtife couphs and 1 I colds ot all kinds. We 8 J first ^afld this sixty years I ago; we've been saying it I I ever since. p Tlircc sites; 15c., 5gc., SI. Ail drains. ? ^ Consult your doctor. If be says take It. 9 a then do as he says; If he tells yon not B a to take it, then dost take it. He knows. ? MBM Wttlie-^-Let's play we are marrieJ. Little Bessie?Have you ever play *1 it with amother-gJtl'T t - * Willie?f J Yl V V ( Little Bessie?Then you can't practice on me.?October Smart Set. FREE STUAk'rs fAMMUNITIONi rl Is extensively tised every where in the L world whCTfctr?tk$ messle loader S has given way to tSe breech loader. SS It is made in the largest and best B H equipped cartridge factory in exis- K @ tence. | H This accounts for the uniformity of n H its product*. . 8 p ABe^^^^roadway, ^ ? m Sew York City* N. Y?v I - ^Mtuukel l~- still ji\j JMP ' 1 T/fflPff Waterproof //jB0F*Oiled Clothing ' j 1/ Bi-A.cn o* raxow 1 j ?/ ffrcj.( '"' ? mi SB&M/ ' navunAURtutautoun l JgSStf/ a kmx t&sflw /?.'A.lTavcrCo.Bo5tM$,>Uy.U^?A. 1vra caMI4C^tMl*TMIII^CM The Watkins"Bcy"Hay Press THE HARVEL OF THE COUNTRY. Two boys can operate it (no other power needed) and bale the crop right in the field at less than cost of hauling to big press. It does lota of other things and costs only 825. Write us at once for circular No. 27. E, E. LOWE CO., Atlanta, Georgia. ?^-GOOD .AGENTS WANTED. *o*o*c|^oitpi*oito*o*oito*o*o f (ammne Indigestion, ? ? J Effocts felt lrnasdi- % j & ^ ' ately. O | ? 10. * and 50c. at Drugstores & .ofcofcofcofcofcofcofcofcofcofcoJtofro* H Best Cough^nra?.^Tast?GooA Use W| &J tn tfca Sold by druggists. gf ! jii JWILDA^ ^ By MRS. EDW ^Oi4. ILDA was a country school-1 rfwk inarm, teaching her first ! o \A/ ? school ten miles from ?{ ft home. She taught five (lays one week and six the next, and at the end of every fortnight it was her father's custom either to come for her himself or send some one to bring her home for over Sunday. On one particular Friday night the r.ncie wnom ner lamer nau ucieguieu to go for her failed to put in an appearance, and Wilda, after vainly watching until after 10 o'clock for some one to come, decided to get up early in the morning and start for home ou foot, with a possible hope that she might either meet her father, or catch a .ride with some one else, at least for part of the way home. The reason why she was so deter-, mined to reach home before Saturday night was to keep an engagement with a certain young man by the name of Walter Mather, whom she had prom- J ised to marry. In point of fact, there had been considerable difficulty connected with her engagement to this young man. In the first place she was an independent little woman, and wanted to test her own powers at earning a living. In the second, she wasn't just sure whether she cared enough for Walter to marry him, and in the third he had met with an unconscious rival in the person of one Theodore Graham, Wilda's father's hired man, trhn hv tho -nrnv r?r?:ild not he called such, according to the common acceptation of the term. Ou the contrary he claimed to be a broken-down athlete from a neighboring university who had begged the privilege of working for her father for the purpose of recuperating j his wasted strength. Wilda had felt no little trepidation in regard to her engagement with Walter Mather. Her father h.'ul cautioned her repeatedly about the consequences of making an unwise choice, and some of her numerous friends had felt it their duty to tell her in plain English that ha wasn't half good enough for her; that he possessed some traits of character that would surely bring her to grief. However, Walter's father was a very wealthy farmer, which counted for considerable in those days, but that didn't amount to much in WiIda's estimation, for her own father had enough and to spare, and there was no need of her teaching school had she not wanted to. The main proposition with lier was whether in her uncertain state of minu she was justified in marrying him at all. Theodore Graham had on several occasions tried to' make advances to Wilda, which, under the circumstances, , she was wise enough not to encourage, , and wise enough to keep to herself. His menial position would not warrant him in advaucing very far, albeit. Wililn rli/1 nftt ilniiht lii? n en]. ?? AlUtt VHU A*Vli UVUMV VV.mq ?? X"lege-bred man, judging from his habits and knowledge of books. But she knew nothing pf his life and character, excepting what she observed for herself, and as far as he was concerned he had i his own reasons for not letting her or i anybody else know that he was a eity- ; bred man, too, and that at his mother's death he would come into the posses- < sion of at least half a million. Wilda's father, with an eye simply to the best interests of his motherless and only child, had never delegated his hired man to go and bring his daughter i home from her school, but somehow j Theodore always managed to be at the gate to assist her to alight. TVIlda un- ] derstood his maneuvers, but her father < took it as*n act of courtesy which was ] admply her due. * i $ ] At the first peep of day "NVilda was ] up and dressed and ready to start for i home. Mrs. Thompson, the lady with < whom she was boarding that week, j said to her: ' ' ' "You shall not go one step until you 1 have had a <rood heartv breakfast." "It is too early for a good hearty ' breakfast Mrs. Thompson," said Wilda. "I can't eat if you get it." "Now you just go out and walk 1 around the house and down to the spring and back, and drink in some of this morning air, and then see if you won't eat some of it." So Wilda did as she was bidden, and 1 to her surprise she did eat her break- 1 fast with a relish. 1 Mrs. Thompson smiled with approval all the time she was eating, then, when she had finished, she saw her through the gate which opened into the lapc, and watched her until she entered the public highway. Wilda waved her hand good-by. then 1 she said to herself? "I hope I shan't meet any one com- j ing for me, for at least a mile any way, ' for I do love to take long walks in the cool of the morning and hear the birds sing." Along the road she. trudged, her young heart as light and happy as the birds she watched and listened to, thinking of Walter, how happy and pleased he would be to know of the effort she was making to keep her fortnightly appointment with him. "If he only knew," she said to herself, "he would gladly have come for me nimseu; dui men ue uoesn t, so there's no use in my bothering my head About that Besides, father wouldn't ^e pleased if Walter came for me, as he considers that a particular privilege of his own, from which he derives much pleasure. Poor father! He'll miss me when I'm gone. But this walk! It's going to be a long one; and I don't believe I'd run the risk of Walking the whole way for another man living." Wilda, in her reflections, was trying : to reconcile herself to her act, and acquire the proper respect for and confidence in her lover, but after that last assertion the honest, sunburned face of Theodore Graham rose before her and refused to be put down. "I don't know why," she said to her- < self, "he alwaj's persists in coming up i just at the time when he is least ex- i pected." On and on she walked. The sun ; climbed higher and higher, and finally, somewhat heated and weary, she came < to the village of Haven, where she sat : down on one of the rustic seats in the park. She sat there for some time, with a feeling in her feet that she ] would like to take off her shoes and i stockings, and paddle around on the : cool, green grass. But she could not remain long, so she soon resumed her < journey, and when she turned the' 1 street corner towards home, the eastern 1 sun blazed full into her face. For the first time she realized the day was go- ] ing to be excessively warm. She had < not covered more than a quarter of the i svay, and her shoes, which were new, 1 CHOICKl, ARDS PAIXE. J ITT were already beginning to pincb, and her satchel increase in weight. "If I only had my parasol." she thought; "hut I was thoughtless enough to leave that at home." i She saw a team coming rapidly to| ward her, and thought possibly it ! might be her father, but it proved to be a stranger with a man and a trunk, hastening toward Haven, probably to catch the morning train. Disappointed and discouraged, she sat down by the roadside to rest. Under the shadow of a great elm she watched and waited for some one to .come by and ask her to ride; but, as no one came, sne piucsca up cuurage, in spite of the burning sensation in her feet, and started (jm,; She judged she had walked about five miles, and then she began to reflect again. Jy-'-, "I wonder," shera'sked herself, "if I'm not folish for und^'taking such a walk as this? Supposiiig-I didn't keep my engagement with Walter, what difference would it make? I'm not sure that he'd care, and I don t believe he'd go to all this trouble for me. Besides,, what view will he take of it? Will he think Tm crazy to be with him, or see tiie principle involved in it? Well!" she exclaimed, after a few moments more of reflections, "I've never broken my word to anybody yet, and I'm not going to begin with him. I told him I would surely be home to-night, and I'm going to keep my word. Ob," she continued, "these feet will be the death of me," when she lwjard a rumble of wheels approaching her from behind. She looked around, and to her delight she recognized Mr. Clinc, an old friend of her father's. "Why, Wilda Wright!" lie exclaimed, reining in his horse. "What in the name of sense are you doing here this hot day?'? i ' -' : > "Father didn't come after me last night, so I thought I'd walk." "Walk, child! Why, you must be crazy. Wliy, it's twelve miles, if it's an inch." , , . i "Ten, father calls it," replied Wilda. "Yes, by taking some cross-cuts. But what's the stress 'bout your getting home? Homesick, eh?" he asked, peering under lier straw hat. "Xo, not exactly that," said Wilda. prerarieating a little, "But it's been two week's since I've been there." "Well, you're a plucky girl, to say the least: and if I wasn't in such a confounded hurry to get back with this cutter-bar, I'd take you clear home. But you see,", he ?d3ed apologetically, "the men 'can't gd on with the haying until I get there." "Oh, that's all right, Mr. Clinc. I don't mind it. .1 can just as well walk as not."- said Wilda, bravely, at the same time secretly vrincing at the pain that was getting more intense in her feet. "But you won't get home for dinner," he said solicitously. "Oh, yes I shall," replied Wilda. "I'll be home long before that." "It will be a little out of your way, jut get in and ride as far as my house," he said, reflectively, anl then drove rordrtfT into the south fork of the road. "From there you can go cross lots and In-the end yen will save time." "Yes," said Wilda, thinking t&e while that their way led right by Walter Mather's house. - : - "Perhaps I'll she Walter," she thought,, "and he'll recognize the effort it is'costing me to keep my promise." Long before they came in sight of the house, she plainly discerned the maple ! arrove which sheltered the white farm house. When they neared the place her eyes searched eagerly under the , low-hanging branches for a familiar form. At last she discerned two people swinging leisurely in a hammock, one x girl of her acquaintance, the other, Walter Mather, with" his arm around her waist For a moment Wilda's. heart beat wildly, then it seemed to stand still. He teeth closed like a vise; and could she hare opened them to speak her | tongue would have-hissed out "traitor." < Suddenly Walter caught the souud of wheels, and looking up recognized her, , withdrew his arm, and bowed. Me, Cline had caught the drift of ^ tilings, too. and, giving his horses a , dip with the whip, in the midst of a < jloufl of dust they aseended the hill. ] "Who was t&at youfe woman with i Walter Mather?" he asked, as soon as , they were well over. ' "Miss- Wood," said Wilda, savagely. , "The bold minx!" he ejaculated, to , which Wilda dare not trust herself to , reply. Soon now they were at Mr. Cline's ] gate, when Wilda, unassisted, clnm: bered out of the wagon, and after thanking him for her ride, started down the road toward home. ( "Take it cross lots, Wilda," Mr. Cline j called after her. "All right, Mr. Cline. Excuse me, I , forgot," she called back. , Then she turned in toward the high rail fence, climbed over it, and when , she was well into the field beyond, in ] sheer desperation she sat down on the , ground with her back against an old 1 stamp and began to cry. "Only to think," she burst out indig- , nantly. " of my going to all this trouble for bim. The mean, deceitful wretch!" j and the heavy heads of grass bent low and answered "Yes." "Now I 1 know why I could never tell whether ( I loved him or not. He don't deserve 1 it," and the waving grass bent its < heads still lower and whispered, "No, he's deceiving you." "I'll never, never speak to him again," she cried. "I wouldn't if I were you," croaked a blackbird as it lighted on the stump above her head. "I don't believe Theodore Graham would be guilty of treating a girl like that." "Indeed he wouldn't," again croaked the blackbird, flying away. "And I've been as mean to him as I could be, and snubbed him every chance I could get Oh, I wish I wasn't such a fool!" And covering her face with her hands she broke into an angry flod of tears. After she had cried to her heart's content, she rose with difficulty to her feet, and hobbled away through the tall grass. Every step she took she almost cried out with pain. She knew her feet were swollen to bursting, but she dare not take off her shoes for fear she could not get them on again. So she traveled on as best she could, s crossing fields and climbing fences un- ] til she'came out at the north fork of . the road and was in sight of home. \ How cool the tall pines looked, sfihoutted against the blue sky, and how she longed to be in the shadow of their thick branches; but between her and j them was a great field of waving rye. 1 To attempt to cross it she knew would ' be like blazing a way through an un- J broken forest but to accept the other i alternative and add another mile to her j journey by going around was simply j out of the question. The opposite side of this field lay parallel to her father's orchard, where, leaning on a gate-post, stood a tall, athletic appearing young man, intently watching a peculiar wave which semeed to be slowly approaching him through the rye. Suddenly the tall spears of grain parted, and, catching sight of a scarlet face beneath a white straw hat, he , exclaimed: i "Why, Wilda ?Miss Wright ?what in the world does this mean?" At the tone of eager sympathy in his J voice, Wilda's lips quivered and she began to cry. Impulsively Theodore grasped her by the hand and led her through the open gate into the orchard and sat her down in the shade of an apple tree. With a feeling of disgust at herself for exposing her weakness, Wilda snatched oil her hat and threw it on the ground. Theodore quickly took it * * A? If o n/^ up ano^egan to inn uei >*nu x?. emu after ^pe became more composed, he asked: "How far have you walked?*' "Most of the way," was her curt reply. "Where did you miss your father?" "Has he gone?" she asked, eagerly. "Yes.-' He. started early this morning. He didn't know your uncle had not gone until it was too late to go last night." "I rode part way with Mr. Cline." "That's how you came to miss him. You took the south fork?" "Yes, of course," snapped Wilda, thinking of what she had seen under the maple trees. "But you should have either met him, or he overtaken you, before that," persisted Theodore, "Perhaps I should, ,and he didn't," retorted Wilda, thinking of the time she loitered away in the park at Haven. Theodore ventured no reply. He saw plainly that in her state of mind further questioning was not only useless but cruel. A big. ripe apple fell at Wilda's feet She took it and began to eat ravenously. After she had finished and thrown -. the core away, Theorode ventured to ask:: . ? ? ! $? "WLy '-were^you go bqni on getting home to-night, Wilda?" "To keep ray appointment-with Wal- 1 tor Mather," she responded trahcsitat- " ingly. "tfo yon think It jvill pay?" "It lias paid already," she replied spitefully, at the same^ time wincing ; at the sharp pain, tbat,darted througk her foot. ? Theodore was. sfertled at .fte'io& t2* \ agony that ca?$?into hi&Yaffclhftr = was^ust gafcn^jifespefii; Interrupted hffti tfy saying: ^ "Theodore, I am almost dea3' Vith paiifcin my feet, but I want to tell yon one thing, I'm through with Walter Mather for all time. I tried to make myself believe I loved hira; but I don't. When he comes to-nlglit I shall not ovetf.see him, and he will not need to he told why. Now, take me to the house, for my feet are murdering me, and I am afraid I am going to faint." Then she attempted to rise, but staggered and fell fainting into Theodore Graham's arms. When she came to he was fanning her with all his might and calling her by all the endearing names of a lover's calendar. Wilda opened her eyes and smiled, then he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the house and laid her on the bed. That evening, just about sun-down, Walter Mather came driviDg up with a spanking bay team, and a new pianoboi buggy; but Wilda was too indis posed to see him, and apparently crestfallen he drove away without even asking why. The next night by common consent of Wlfaa and her father, Theodore took her back to her school;-her swollen and' blistered feet bandaged and encased in her father's slippers; but it was her i last as well as her first term ofischool, j for that night she made her choice, and a wise one it was, too.?Waverley Magazine. < 5 * t ' EARLIEST USE OF FORKS. They Were Not Common Art England Be. , for? the Year / It seems strange that the use of forks j began only with our easily reiuemberefi forefathers; that the Greeks tsfnd R<Jmails did not know anything of them, and that in the Far Eastern countries their use is still unknown. Up to the fifteenth century they were - known only in Italy. Elizabeth had three "forks" "garnished with gold sieightly," and with "lyttle perles pendant?' but they were considered as curiosities and never used. Indeed, in that era, . says the Cooking Club, it was considered bad form, and ministers contended that to use them was an insult to God. What were our fingers for? Id Thomas Corvates' "Crudities," published originally Vn 1G0S, is this: "I observed a custom in all those Italian cities aud towns through which I passed that is not used iu any other country that I saw ou my travels; either do I think that any other nation in Christendom doth use it, but only in Italy. The Italian, and also j most strangers, do always, at their j ' men is hrp n little forke when they cut j their meats. For while with their knife, which they hold in one hand,' they cnt the meats out of the dish, they fasten the forke. which they hold , in the other hand, upon the same dish; so whatsoever he be that, sitting in , the company of others at meals, should < Inadvisedly touch the dish of meats with his fingers, from which all the table do cut, he will give occasion of , offense to all the company, as haviug . transgressed the laws of good manuers, . in so much that for his error he shall be at least browbeaten, if not reprehended in wordes. This form of feed ing, I understand, is generally used in j ill places of Italy, 'their forkes being : in the most part of iron, Steele and some of silver; but these are nsed only by gentlemen. The reason for- this . curiosity is because the Italian cannot j bv anv means endure to have his meat! touched with fingers, seeing that all men's fingers are not alike cleane."1 Not until the middle of the seventeenth century did England's nobility' begin the use of the fork, but they ' ;ame into use slowly, and even in the ?arly part of the eighteenth century i gentlemen who traveled carried a knife J md fork, because the inns were not likely, to have them. About 1S15 forks 1 became quite common in England, and 1 In Europe soon became to be considered generally as a necessity. ' j 1 ~ i Vnlae of a Hen. ! It is said that a profitable hen eats sixteen times her weight in a year. ' 3>r eggs are six times her own weigiit, md worth six times the cost of her .'ood. . ! At Middle Age. middle age a man begins to enby life; lie has forgotten his ideais.-j, Life. . " *- * -5*<? <, *- ~ V ^ if*? / JUST LIKE BOYS. , Being the Tale of Two Lads, art Aunt and a Fighting Rooster. In the days when a brown-stone front was regarded' as the outer and visible sign of "gentility," and when life in New York was a simpler matter than it is today, there Mved in one of the orthodox mansions a certain highly respectable maiden lady and two nephews, cousins/-to whom she was guardian. A classmate and chum of the elder boy had become the happy possessor of a rooster, which the seller assured him, had a "big gamy sucak in him." Inflamed by this eulogy, both boys were wild for a "match;" and not having the means wherewith to purchase an antagonist, they put their heads together to compass the bor rowing of one, and with the following results: The younger cousin, an unusually polite and gentle little boy, was despatched on the first holiday to the grocery where the family dealt, ostensibly to order a chicken for dinner. "But," he said, poTnting to a coop of live fowls, "my aunt wants to zeo it before you kill it." The grocer assented, and forthwith drew from the coop what he considered a desirable bird. But the boy would have none of it. He had set his heart on a rainbow-colored rooster with enormous comb and taih "Why," said the grocer, "that 13 the very toughest old customer, in the bunch." "My aunt 1'kes them tough," said the gentle little boy. In a couple of hours the rooster was borne back to the store?one eye shut, his comb torn and bloody, and but one feather cf his beautiful tail left But he was crowing so triumphantly that a small crowd followed him. He had suffered, but the bird with the "big gamy streak in him was nowhere." . "My aunt is much obliged to you," said the polite and gentle little boy to the astonished grocer. "She can't decide today, but she would' like, to look at him again next Saturday/' ?Prom "In Lighter Vein" in the Century.. - - '* * ' : . > , I fA GERMAN CHICAGO Remarkable Rapidity of the Growth ' ?$&*? writes Sydney Brooks, in Martyr's Weekly, is the Chicago of. Gerggmy in the rapidity of growth if in nothing else. ( To one who has not tlB'ted it for ten or twelve years the Sice seems to have trebled and quadHfcled itself. Very likely It"has; but W&at most impresses one is not the ejtent, but the quality, of its growth. { ft is the only modern city I know of that has managed to escape looking ) artificial. Most foreigners 'cWp^'n I that New York looks as though, ft had been hit off at a stroke and; dumped down on Manhattan Island by eonr tract. They inveigh against its deathly uniformity, its Euclidian lines, its prosaic precision. They say that it has been far too obviously mapped out by architects and surveyors instead of by nature. None of these charges could be brought against Berlin. The city, or'lib^t of it, at any rate, is as modern as New York, but the labor of building it has mo3t dexterously hidden. In Berlin, the old days of piatn living and high thinking seem well-nigh over. There may be plenty of high thinking done the capital, but It certainly is no longer a city of conspicuously plain living. The rents are such as open even a New Yorker's eyes, household expenses are* proportionately severe, and the clubs, the theatres, the stores, and above all, the hotels and resi'duruuib, punu iu a unwuuii mc*?, i dees not lead by any means to economy.! There are hotels today in Berlin that rival and in sonje points even excel* the Waldorf-Astoria anil the Carlton. -v -? . i * ? ?????? _ Do We AM Die Young? The. fact is, says Professor Metchnikofl-in hi3 "Studies in Human Nature," that only one man in a million tt present dies a natural death. . We ^iould live till one hundred and forty years of age. A man who expires at seventy or eighty is.the victim of acckTent, cut off in the flower of his days, and he unconsciously resent3 being deprived of the fifty years or so; which nature owes him. Leave him a little longer, and in due time he will desire to die- as a child at dusk desires to sleep. The sandman i will pass! All our instincts drop from us one by one. The child cries for mother's milk. The idea of such an ailment is repugnant to the adult. The desires for sweets, for play, for love and love making, for long walks and adventures, are all Impulses that have their day and pass, and the wish to live is an Instinct which falls also with satiety. Only at present none of us live long enough to be satiate with days. ???????? c j * * The Idea of Culture. - {.j The Idoa of culture has always in- j eluded a quick and wide sympathy ? with men; it should' hereafter include sympathy with nature, and par- < ticularly with its living forms?a sympathy based on some accurate observation of nature. The bookworm, the monk, the isolated student, has never been the type of the cultivated man. Society has seemed the natural setting:for the cultivated person, man' or woman; but the present conception of real culture contains not only a large development of this social element, but also an animate creation and to those immense forces., that set the earthly stage for man and' I all related beings.?President C. W1. Eliot, in the World's Work. ?** > ? v > rrr~A t f-. WRONG DIRECTION. 1 Recently during a dense fog on Long Island Sound a steamboat took landing. - A traveler anxious to go ahead came to the man at the wheel and asked why they stopped. "Too much fog; can't see the river." "But you can see the stars overhead." "Yes," replied the pilot, "but until :he biler busts we ain't going that w&y\" The passenger went to bed. I ?Philadelphia Ledger. { ? f . ?. a . t -' ? ? Alas! "Will you let me kiss yo|?" They sat side by side in the gloaming, qiiite close to each other, yet not so close but that it might have been possible to be closer. The sun had j gone down behind the western hii's, and the faint shadow of twilight was beginning to suggest itself in the recesses of the hills. He was patient. He said to himself, he would wait. She old not answer, but looked out into the. clear sky - and the fleecy clouds as they sailed along the horizon. Of what was she thinking, he wondered, as-he sat there. Was it of love and pas-sionaite longings, and desires fully met? But never mind what it was, ne would not hurry her. He would wait. The distant call of the owl was heard, and along the lane fa the distance came a procession of cows, home from the pasture. For a long time they sat thus, in deep silence, until she turned her eyes to his, wondering, questioning. "Well?" he asked at last. Will you?" And she gathered herself up and prepared to leave. "It is too late?now]" she said. ? October Smart Set. Tourists i Past arid Present. "Traveling, like novel-writing, is but a modern forrp 'of activity," says Agnes Repplier in the October Lippincott's; "and tourists, like novelists, are increasing at so fearful a rate of speed that foreign countries and library she*' es bid fair to be equally overrun, 'there was a time when good men looked as"kance both upon the page of fable, and upon those far countries where Feality.was stranger than romance. 'I was o*ce in Italy myself,' confesses the pious Roger Ascham; 'but thank God my abode there was but nine days. Nine days seem a scant allowance for Italy, Even the.business-like traveler who now scampers 'more Americano' over Europe is Wont to deal more generously with this-, its fairest land. But in Roger Ascham's time nine days Wou.d hardly have permitted a glimpse a,t tthe wonders from which he so swiftly aitti .fearfully withdrew." . The Kongo Free State has an area of SQO/OOO square miles, and a population of between< 20,000,000 and 30, ooo;ooo. ' ' & ; ' i ' >i! ' ; . U I . - ! t ji ... , FITSoermancntJy cured. No fits or nervousness, after first day's use of Dr. Kline's Groat NcrveKe$rorer.$2trlal bottle andtreatisefrec Dr.B.H.- Klise, Ltd., 93i ArchSt., Phlia.,P.t. There are people who seem to take more interest in . our affairs , than we do oarsely<^. Mrs.Winslow's Soothing Syrup for children teething, softenthe guns,reduces in da mm atioa,allays,pain,cures/yindcplig.25c?a bottle Self-preseiwa'tioil 'is the first law of nature, and ittbst women try to look Well pre1 served. . JamsurePiso's QUra for Consumption save 1 myiira three ye its ago.-^-UBs. tkomas uosllx*.Ttapie St.,Ndrwich, JT.X, Feb. tf ;131h f mil ii|' -i i f I , I ; Some men. believe ia making lOihfers respect tbem> even if they have to do it with a club. ...: Tfis* Jitter Color mikes top of the market butter* > *"' tw.:. I '* } It's all right to have a l*ojby, if you kieep it to yourself. STRAIGHT t Aching backs are eased.? Hip, back, i and loin pains overcome.': Swelling of j the limbs, rheumatism, and dropsy signs vanish. They correct, urine with brick-dust , sediment, high colored, excessive, pain <> in passing, dribbling, frequency. \ Doan's Kidney PHls dissolve and remove calculi and gravel. Relieve heart palpitation, sleeplessness, headache, nervous. Tell City, Isd ?I received the free trial of Doan's Kidney PiHA They are splendid. I had an awful pain in my baek; on taking the pills the pain left me right away and I feel like a new man.? Stephen Schaefer. * ' Mrs. Addie Andrews, R. ,F. IX No. 1. Brodkead, Wis., writes: I received the free trial of Doan's Kidney Pills with much benefit. My little nephew was suffering terribly with kidney trouble from scarlet fever. Two doctors failed to help him and he finally "tent into spasms. I lis father gave him Doan's Kidney Pills and from the second dose lijREPEAT!! \ No matter what your preferent 11 some one of the eight different ft will suit you. Winchester Rif ? ble for shooting any game, fi land in many styles and weig ft. c#?Wt vau can ennnt nn its hi Jl reliable in action and a strong, JW |c FREE: Out 160-pc.qe {WLgy WINCHESTER REPEATING AR Good Pills Oyer's Pills are good liver Dills. You know that. The best ?amily laxative you can buy. rhey keep the bowels regular, :ure constipation. Want your moustache or beard a beautiful brown or rich black ? Use BUCKINGHAM'S DYE nm era, or ostwusrs oy g p. hall * co.. sabsc*. w. h. ~ i NO MORE.. cu|ls in your hair Carjater's OX MARROW POMADE jr (BBWARE OFTXtTATIOW* ) Takes them out and keeps your scalpin splendfr shape into the bargain. That's why you need It. It^ highly perfumed, too. ? PRICE, 25 CENTS, At the Drug Store, or mailed on receipt of 26 *y cents In stamps. Addrsi, CARPENTER & CO., Louisville, Ky. J i Jlney refunded by your mei ,, r - *. _ ^ " ; * - w;i- - WORN OUT, Df * 4 Are Most Women in Summer <, ?Pe-ru-na is a Tonic of 1 1 1 Efficiency. < 4 JLjj OSI^Hl sZ | Brooklyn, N. Y., writes: "Peruna is a fine medicine to take any ; time of the year, but I have fonnd it especially helpful to withstand the wear and tear of the hot weather. I have taken it now for two bummers, and feel- that it ha* .;ept my system free from malaria, and also kept me froor having that worn-out, dragged-out look which so many women have. - . ' ei "X therefore have no hesitancy in saying ai that I think it is the finest tonic in the m world/'?Josephine Morris. ii Peruna is frequently used as a mitiga- w tion of the effects of hot weather. What a n bath is to the skin. Peruna is to the mu- ai cous membranes. Bathing keeps the skin n healthy* Peruna makes the mucous membranes clean and healthy. With the skin fa and mucdhs membranes in good Working w order, hot weather can be withstood with ft verf little suffering. . p.1 Frequent bathing with an occaibngl nse gi of Pertind is sure id mitigatetil horrors of hot weather. Many ladies have discov- H i?iie United States is the greatest > horse-producing couiitry in th#' world. At. this tiine, therefore, when other 4 agencies are coming into competition A with'horses for many purposes, and J are being substituted for ? horses in w many; others, it is'proper for us to " consider what it'is wise tojXo in order- J that there shall not be too serious ^Ipss- f es in an industry as great as it Is widespread and interesting. ;A. few years ago the horses fn the United Q States were valued at eleven hundred* million dollars; Business depression together with the competltiOfi and sub- I dUlUllUUd i CICilCU C^V/*?vvyt. . ? stock more than ohehalf. But there has been ah appreciation withih d few yearst otfing to 'business revival anJ ensuirig prosperity) so that the value of the horses in the country had risen more thah two hundred million dollars at the end of the last fiscal year, June, 1902, from what thq value wa* at The A low-water mark referred to.?From n John Gilmer Speed's "The'Horse >"n \ America" In the September Century, 0 THE SPO T * the pain was less. He began to gain and. is to-day a well boy, Ms life saved by 4 Doan's Kidney Pills. < Ruddles Mills, Ky.?I received the free trial of pills. They did tnc great j good. I had bladder trouble, compelling me to get up often during night Now 1 sleep well; no pain in neck of bladder Sain in back is gone, also headache.'? 6 no. L. Hill. iAUssail I " NAME- ?p. O ??STATE .... . . For 4*0 trial box tiiril thia ebttjx* lb Foster-MUbarn Co., Buffalo-. N. z. If above space U insuflcient, write address on asp* ratoattfr. ' medical advice free. | KSHSffii <G RIFLES JpR ' /VU lit v Wfc/V ?? > -J jpM Winchester models1^ 1 i les are made in calibers stiita- Jj \ rom rabbits to grizzly bears,# hts. Whichever model you# sing well made and finished # accurate shooter. , ttlasinctcd caUfoqm* . J|K(I jr MS CO. NEW HAVEN, CONN-Mg| RipnnsTabulesare I the best dyspepsia ~ m ed Ici d e ever made. * AM hundred millions j flig^UlV of them have been sold In the United States In a single year. Every illness tl arising from a disordered stomach is *! relieved or cured by their use. So n common is it that diseases originate ? from the stomach it may be safely as- t! serted there is no condition of ill a health thst will not be benefited or <3 cured by the occasional use of Ripans L Tabules. Physicians know them and P speak highly of them. All druggists ? sell them. The five-cent package is ? enough for an ordinary occasion, and gi the Family Bottle, sixty cents, contains 0 a household supply for a year. One generally gives relief within twenty _ minutes. A /jEBfry The Effervescent g ^AfDsrli GADflcer ffisN H WAjQjM prevents headaches, SfeiV biliousness, constipation. At Droaalita, *Oe. aad #1, Cac^hyAnlerirta TARBAJfT CO. ^ Physicians since ISM. 91 Jay Street, JTew Yerh Dropsy H s Removes all swelling in 8 to so th days; effects a permanent core B. in 30 to 60 days. Trial treatment given free. Kothingcan be fairer Write Or. H. H. Green's Sons, Specialists, Box B Atlanta, fa. v.i MHffil rchant, so why not try lt?; '..t" V-' ' V C.. -v ?' - * ' -v? r > - IAGGED OUT, Mrs. Tressie Nelson, *22 Broad St.; 2 Nashville, Tenn., writes: ;; "4s Parana has done me a;; * ieorl I of good, I feel in duty*' "'-SK iound to tell of it, in hopes that <; It may meet the eye of some wo-'; ... $0S nan who has suffered as 1 have* '; "For five years I really did not! y know what a perfeotly well day!: was, and if 1 did not have head- j; ache, 1 had backache or a pain J; s&->^ somewhere and really life was \; not worth the effort 1 made to J; keep going. . <> "4 good friend advised me io|[ " L use Peruna and I was gla41' anything, and I am very 1pleased! > to say that six bottles made a new <' y woman of me and J have no merely- ^ pains and life look* bright j again."?Mrs. Trestle Nelson. red that the depression of hot weather id the rigors they have been in theibit of attributing to malaria nuickly isappear when they use Peruna. lhis ? hy rerttna is so popular with them. - Pp ana provides ckan mucous membranes, -v., id the clean mucous membranes do If you do not derive prompt and sa&? ictory results from the use of Peruna rite at once tb Df. Hartman. givia* ? ill statement of youf case, and he wiH beleased to give you bis valuable adrioe Address Dr. fiartrii&n, President Of Tli* ,'artman Sanitarium, Columbus, 0. WMBBHftiitM Board a: Con. Writs Qoicfc E0R8U-AU3JUSA BU$lhESCCOUEG?tKacoet?? , Wery & CompaBySUCCESSORS TO . ; - . avery & mcmillan, i-G3 South Forsyth St., Atlanta, ?* f " , f t^iM|/ ?, ? - \ p?jb%fe^o{\ VfryM .^r "-J-. i_^' . a^Q jj /^J / " ear, 8imnltaneons8et Workaand ^h? ^ cock-Kins? Variable Feed Work* are <*Ued for AcccEAcr, siupiJciTT^Dinuw^?- descriptive circulars. M an nfactu red far nJ * **lis^d|?8jj 8AL?M mOK WOR K8AVinst-)n-9dlftm^.C^ LAZYLTO 'I fled Caicaret* ?o good that J would ooibe . ithoat them. I was troubled s great deal vltlt >rpid lirer and headache. How since taking"' ? J.'^ v ascarots Candy Cathartic 1 feel very much tfltter, ~ ;^; hall certainly recommend them. to mjt fni?^ . 1. -O; a i the beet medicine I hare ever leom** if??* 2& nna Basinet, Oaborn Mill Kb. t, Fall BhteeS?M> ' Pleasant, Palatable, Potent. Taste Good. Do Good* ever Sicken, Weaken of Gripe, 16<r. 25c.tic. Merer -4CS0B >ld in balk. The genuine tablet stamped C CO. oaranteed to cara or yon r-money back. ft 8terHng Remedy Co., Chicago or W.Y. flag JCMUAL SALE. TEH MILLIOH NXES k L DOUGLAS M 3.55 & *3 SHOES? Yon can save from $8 to $5 yearly to :$?, ^ weariii|fW.L Doujlaa $3.50 or $3 sboee. oo'k for name and )rons Is the highest i^de Pit.Leither wide. tr 34 Qllt Edge Unecann^^equalied at any price. Shoes by mall, 26 rests extra. Wastra4e4 t .. taleg free. W. L. DOUGLAS, Broektoa, Man- .. . ? i? " ! ,~v Th* Greet Kast and WestLtite v. IfSlSWf 50 TxorBi.* to Airamt* qusstiovs. 1 - 'Urty-flve iallee Shortest Rout? Shr?vepori to hllas. Write for new book on Texas?no*. P. TURNER, Gen. Pasa. Agt., Dallas. Texa#. . . . ^ ' Give the name of this paper wh?* -r-^M iting to advertisers?(At40-3) mHsi Price 50c.