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EM '1‘ 'E‘ARY
WQMEN Ari? MEN
Are peculiarly benefited by P. P. P.,
Lippman’s Great Remedy, the most
wonderful Tonic and Blood Cleanser in
the world.
1?. P. P. restores shattered nerves,
gives strength and tone to the entire
system, revives the worn out, nervous
and debilitated .You cannot but be
nervous if your blood is impure.
P. P. P. gives the proper nourishment
- to the blood, and cures nervous pros-
tration, debility and nervous head-
ache. ’ '
P. P. P. cures that tired, languid,
“ all gone ” feeling, cures dyspepsia, in-
digestion, and that awful distress of
the stomach.
P. P. P. cures that weak, nervous con-
dition, that dreadful jumping of the
heart, followed by dizziness and sink-
ing spells. Make your blood pure by
taking P. P. l’., Lippman’ 5 Great Rem-
edy, and you will be well and happy.
Women are benefited, their 01 ganiza-
tion regulated, and thei1 1)weakness and
‘-assitude cu1ed by P. PP
WEAK, TIREI
. PEOPLE
should take P. P. P., Lippman’s Great
Remedy, without delay. While not
actually sick, you feel weak and tired,
ready to get sick, and what you need is
strength to drive out of your system
that which is the cause of Spring Fever.
P. P. P. is needed at once.
Mrs. Hattie Mylius, of 70 East 86th
street, New York, says that she was in
poor health, and that her case devel-
oped into nervous .prostration. She
suffered from nervous headaches, and
at times was unable to do any work
at all. She could not sleep, and was
so nervous that she would have to get
up at all hours of the night and walk
the floor, and the opening of a door
would startle her. But her weakness
and nervousness is all gone. P. P. P.
was what saved her. Her appetite
improved, her nervousness is a. thing
of the past, and she thanks P. P. P.,
Lippman 5 Great Remedy, for her com-
plete restoration to health.
Sold by afiugglsts.
LIPPMAN 131205.. Apot—hecarles, Sole Prey".
Lippmnn's Block. Savannah, (Is.
it’s neglect of
throat and
bronchial 1 .
troubles "AI-ES
that IIIINEii
leads to 0F
death-
dealing
disease.
HUREHIIIINE
TAR
No wonder Hale' 5 Honey of Horehound and
Tar Is praised by its users. Its curative effects
are like magic. Sold by druggists.
Pike's Toothache Drops cure in one minute.
' ,j 2}?» Send this ‘.ad " and 10
-, cenisinstamns and we
1 any kind of Tea you
“ ,‘7 mayselect. the bestim-
. - " , Coil'ees 25c. perlb. b.eW
end5lbs. of FIN];
charges paid
THE GREAT AMERICAN TEA (30.,
Special h. Rea lers If This Paper.
1v1ll mailyou 141b, of
1' ported. Good Teas and
' wilsl
:AMILY TEAS on receipt of this "11811. " and $2. 00
31 and 33 Vesey St" N. Y., P. 0. Box 289.
Horace E. Dann,
EXCELSIOL
uvmwvvvu
Opposite Danbury sud
Norwaik Railroad depot
Norwalk. Oonn Stylish
Single or Double ’l‘eans
with or without driversI
safe horses (01 women
I1nd 1hildren.,
»' morn-'3: HOQH‘JJQ A 1305111131 ‘1 y
'—
AT
P. W. B AT E‘S’
42 mm sun-:1,
You can find as fine an aSsortment of
11111111111111 11211111111111
he? und 1: luny Yard in the
State. Look it owr and get prices
hei .rc goinu elsewhere.
I
Piano bassoon”
W‘tfi.'}E‘)BGE W ' --.,|,) .l!‘-\'. «in
_ of the late Wn. f. “szan givop . .1-
and satml’actnrv I'w'r ,,. ., ~‘-- "
her home \To .“l”
*5.
DE MASSA 03 DE SHEEPFOU-u
De Massa ob de sheepfol'.
Dtt guard de sheep fol’ bin,
Look out in do gloomerin’ meadows.
thr’ de long night rain begin-
So he call to de hirelin ’ shep‘a’d,
“ Is my sheep, is day all come in?”
So he call to de hirelin’ shep’a’d.
"Is my sheep, is dey all come in?"
Oh, den says de hirelin’ shep’ a'd.
“Dey’ 3 some, dey: 5 black and thin,
An’ some, dey’ s po’ 01’ Wedda‘s,
Dat can ’tcome home agin. ‘
Dey 15105’.” says the hirelin’ shep’ a’d~
“But do res’ dey’ s all brung in.”
Dey 1'. los’, " says de hireling sherd’a’d—
“But de resi dey' s all b1 ung in. ”
Den de Biases ob de sheep fol’,
Dat guard the sheepfol’ bin
Goes down in de loomerin’ meadows,
Whar de long mght rain begins-
So he le’ down do ba‘ s ob de sheep fol',
Eallin’ sof’, “Come in come in.
So he le’ down do ba" 5 ob dc sheep fol’,
Callin sof’ “Come in, come in,”
Den up tro’ de gloomnin’ meadows.
Tro’ de 001' night rain and win’ ,
And up t1 o"de gloomerin’ raiu- -paf’,
\‘Vha1’de sleet fa’ pie‘ cin’ thin .,
De po’ los’ sheep 0’ de sheep fol’,
Dey all comes gaddei-“in in.
De po’ los’ sheep 0’ de s‘ icon fol’,
Dey all comes gadderi: 1’ in.
A WOMAN’S HEART.
By Carl Baily Huist
The diiving rain fo1bade our tak-
ing a walk, so we sat in the studio
and smoked. The storm had come
suddenly, and it was late in the after-
noon. From the window-seat where
I lay I could look down on Ifroadway
and see the crowd of clerks and shop-
girls hurrying up town. The noise of
wagons and street cars, the babble of
voices, and the beating of footsteps on
wet pavements were borne noticeably
to the third story of the old building
which has stood for thirty years on a
corner below Union Square. It is an
old rookery, with rooms for artists and
whosoever else will live in small
quarters and not object to the odor of
cooking wafted at all times from the
gas-stoves of one’s neighbors. The
man in whose lodgings I was for the
first time had lived there for over
twenty years. He told me nothing
could make him leave. He had be-
come attached to the shaky stairs, the
worn threshholds, and the dusty walls.
It was here he had fought for fame——
and had lost the battle; yet he would
not remove.
We talked of a number of things—
of art, of the ignorance of critics, of
the capriciousness of fate—when I no-
ticed my friend was not listening to
me, but to some sound without. I
stopped, and heard a woman walking
down the hall. She went to the door
opposite my friend X.’s lodgings, and
after fumbling with the look a few sec-
onds, opened the door and entered.
X. did not move. He only turned his
eyes toward me, still listening; but
hearing nothing more, he leaned back
in his chair, saying simply, “She’s
late.”
“In time for dinner, at any rate,” I
hazarded.
“She doesn’t live here.”
“Oh! Only points during the day, of
course.”
“She’s not an artist; not even in a
dilettante way. She used to paint, I
believe; but I do not think she has
had a, b1ush in her hand fo1 twenty
yeais.”
“Twenty years?”
“For twenty years she has had
that room. None besides her has ever
entered, except the janitor once or
twice to put in a few panes of glass
broken by the bail.”
“She’s not, not— 'She’s in her right
mind, isn’t she?”
“As sane as you or I. Ill tell you
about her. It s the sto1y of a woman’ s
heart. I do not believe two people be-
sides myself know why she has that
little studio, if, indeed, they are aware
she has it at all.”
Then he was silent for a minute. I
heard the noise of the street, and fan-
cied that I heard a woman moving in
the room across the way. The story
of a woman’s heart. I mused—the
story of a woman’s heart. How many
a one thinks he knows its depths or its
shallowness, but what man has ever
really fathomed it? It’s a spring of
water, I thought. It reflects the clouds
and the sunshine. It varies with cir-
cumstances. There is nothing constant
in it. It smiles back brightly to the
man who has brought himself nearest.
When he is gone, with the same case
and cheerfulness it mirrors his suc-
cessor. A woman’s heart, I laughed;
there is no constancy in it.
“Listen,” said X. "Not long after I
returned from my two years at Munich
I settled in the studio in which you
see me now. About the same time a
young man of about my own age took
the one across the way. There was
more than a passing acquaintance be‘
tween us. We exchanged confidences,
and I learned that a wealthy woman.
somewhat older than he, stood to him
more or less as a patron-ess. There
was some understanding that when he
should become established they were
to marry. She was an ambitious per-
son, strong willed, and, I surmise, she
decided to fashion the beginner’s ca-
reer to suit herself. But she was not
sympathetic. His frequent discour-
agements she took as natural events
in any young man’s career. 'But to him
the difficulties seemed enormous and
insuuperable, and the sympathy he
craved he found elsewhere; in the
daughter of a boarding-house keeper at
whose establishment he took dinner.
The patroness was frightfully incensed
when she learned of the new intimacy.
She stormed, but he said nothing. Then
she cried bitterly, and begged him not
to throw his life away on. a woman
who had not the least thing in com-
mon with him.
“The little dramaf stretched itsell
out for several months, until a viOleni
quarrel separated for good the artist
and his benefactress. The woman
vnnted him to break his recent at-
tachment. She becamearbitrary and
insisted. The young fellow was 111’
i
I
I
'ula1 with the masses.
ready tired of the boardingho-am
keeper’s daughter, but this command
ing made him obstinate, and throwin,
down the key of the studio, he swort
he would never come near his easel
again. When she saw he was really
leaving, she calmed and implored bin;
to stay, but he doggedly walked away
She said she loved him m01e than he1
life, that she would always wait until
he returned. She would keep the-stu
die, and that he must come back to he1
' some time.
‘That day he went to the woman
sco1ned by the othe1, and a few days
latei togethe1 they d1ifted to the West
whe1e one may be sw allow ed in the
vastness and change, and be forgot-
ten. The affair would have escaped
me altogether had I not one day seen
the former patroness coming to the stu-
dio, which, .it seemed, she had kept,
and to which she came once a fort
night. She did this for four or five
years, until I read in the papers a no-
tice of her marriage. For a year she
never came near this place, but the
studio was still unvacated. The jani'
tor told me she rented the place by the
year, and at the time of her marriage
the studio belonged to her for several
months longer. And then, that period
expiring, she rented the room again,
although she did not visit it. Incident-
ally I heard her marriage was a very
unsatisfactory one, and that her hus-
band treated her brutally. Once more
she resumed her pilgrimages to the
studio. But after her husband’s death
—for he died about two years after
they were married—she kept away for
another stretch of months; then she
started once more, and she has now
come at intervals ever since. She dusts
the books and canvases, and keeps the
room scrupulously clean. This much
she has told me herself, although she
is very reticent. But I have often won-
dered if she lingers over each object
of her former lover‘s, and touches them
tenderly, and thinks that he might now
be near her bad she beento him what
she might have been. It is probably a
solace for her to go there. and to feel
that she keeps the place for his return;
that she is watching for him,-ready to
welcome him, and to tell him that she
loves him more than in those old
days.” ,
Then X '51s silent. Presently he re-
sumed: “Peihaps he will return. But
he has not returned yet. It is twenty
years since he left.”
“Yes,” I said to myself, “a woman’s
heart indeed is like a spring. It gives
forth at all times the same stream of
love. The surface may reflect that
.which passes near it, but in its depths,
clear and unchanging, lies that which
fell there first.”
Neither of us spoke. X.’s story
moved me strangely, although I am not
over-given to sentiment. The rain
‘came beating against the windows,
‘down on the foot-passengers in the
street, and on the vehicles. The world
seemed very gloomy. Unsteadily a
man mounted to the top of the stairs
near X.’s studio, and moved down the
hall. He stopped not far away, but he
made no sound. X. threw open the
door, and I saw a man wasted with dis-
ease, thin and wretchedly clad. The
rain dropped from his clothing to the
floor. I could only. see the side of his
face, but it was haggard. He stood
with his back to us, looking at the stU<
dio door opposite. He seemednot to
hear us. He knocked, but there was
no reps-onse. He knocked again. The
door opened suddenly, and a woman
stood in the threshold. The man held
out his hands and said, brokenly:
“Sweetheart, sweetheart, I have
come back for one glimpse of para-
dise. ”
With a cry the woman threw her
aims about his neck, and, drawing him
into the room, strained his wet, dishev-
elled head to her breast.
X. closed his door quietly, and turn‘
ing to me, remarked: “I always
thought something like that would
happen.”—Harper’s \Veekly.
Ignorance in India.
in Ignorance and superstition were-
among the greatest forces that the
English Government had to overcome
in dealing with the plague in India.
It was found out by the authorities
that one of the chief causes of the
reluctance of the natives to enter hos.
pitals was due to the fear that they
would be killed, because they believed
that the Queen, in revenge for the in
sult offered to her statue, had demand-
ed the lives of 30,000 inhabitants of
Bombay—Philadelphia Ledger.
PEN POINTS.
It is not the expensive fashionable
ball, but the cheap ball of the slum
saloon that brings misery to the poor.
The prime of life is when we have
learned to laugh at things that once
would have made us weep.
Many a family that thinks it is keep-
ing up appearances is keeping up noth«
ing but a signal of distress.
,. Second thoughts may be the best,
but they are usually too late for the
band wagon.
A drama may be too good to be pop-
It is a good
deal so with a man
A two flicnd is one who will lister
to your t1oubles and not tell you his
ownI—Truth
Not a. Single Instance.
Youngley: “Yes, sir, we love each
other, andlove matches always turn
out happily. Do you know of a single
instance where they have not done
so?”
Olding: “No, not of a single instance,
but I know of a good many mauled
ones.
Mistress—I think I have given you
a good idea of the cooking I require
Do you think you could prepare it?
Cook—Yis, mum; but. Oi cud nivil
ate it.-—New Yo‘i'k Journal.
THE EVENING GAZETTE.
NARROW- SILK FRINGE REVIVED.
Mill's of Ribbon and Yards Upon Yards 0]
Lace Used for Trimmings.
(By Special Arrangement with the N.Y. Sun.)
It is evident that foulard is one of
the most popular materials of the sea
son, and the use of green on a blue and
white silk seems to be a favorite con-
hast. Black with blue and white is
another, and the black satin belt is ad-
missible on any gown, without regard
to the mixture of colors. 'One blue and
white model has a yoke of perpendicu-
lar rows of. black and white lace inser-
tion, a black satin belt, and a full bod-
ice of silk with fine cordings an inch
apart running around below the yoke.
The skirt is plainly hemmed and made
loose from the lining, as all the new
skirts are, and eight fine cords are set
in around the hips twelve inches below
the waist, beginning at the front
b1eadth.001ding and tucking e spe-
cial featuies of fashion, particu arly in
the thin gowns, and the fine1 the tucks
the more up to date they are. Tiny
tucks drawn up in shirrings close to-
(1‘?
gether in groups are one of the favor-
ite effects for muslin gowns, and they
are arranged around the hips 011 the
skirts and for the yokes on the waist.
Fortunately, there are no infallible
rules of fashion this season, and al-
most any form of decoration that can
be devised will pass muster. The se-
cret of distinction in dress lies, never-
theless, in pretty ha1'monies‘“=and tell-
ing contrasts of color, or in adopting
neutral tints for the gowns to make
them stand out amid the gorgeous col-
ors that characterize the most gener-
ally worn style of costume.
4'. - ’1’ u .1\ .
wit-V- 511‘ 2
Next in order of popularity after the
foulards and transparent canvas ma-
terials is muslin of all kinds, and 01'-
gandies especially. It would seem
from the quaint old-time patterns that
the simplicity in modes of “ye olden
days” must come back to us; but the
fashionable muslin gown is anything
but simple in price or manner of trim-
ming. Yards and yards of lace and in-
sertion are used in its construction, and
the only redeeming feature in the ox-
pense is the use of colored dimity for
the lining. But the truly elegant mus-
lin has the silk lining. A fashionable
model in white organdie is made over
mauve silk and trimmed with rows of
lace and insertion set crosswise and 11p
111d down on the skirt, up and down on
the waist, and around the sleeves, and
a. ruffle of lace finishes the full bodice
where it opens in the side, and at the
bottom of the skirt. Mauve satin rib-
bon foi'mslfthe sash, and loops of the
ribbon catch‘up the d1 apcry at the top
3f the siceves. Another example of the
1.1104 sy mushn “gown is of c-ur'nflowe1
line and white o1gandie over 2. mauve
1ilklining. It is trimmed with rows of
narrow blue'satin ribbon sewed on.
N - Can YEon [jolt
1.
j
dose.-
half a century. Remember!
Glycerine Toilet Soap, w hich' 15 great
. . u “.7 u, - V
it has . :1!b r 1111' It looks easy enough. You
. do it 0111:-
‘ trick and tino you havcn’ t.
:- ' the hour. Amuscs old and young. Enter-
tains your visitors and friends.
zling puzzle, for a simple one, ever invented.
How to get the “Star Puzzle” FREE.
It is offered for a “ Limited Time Only ” by mail ost- aid to an one
who will send a Dove cut from a package of (p P ) Y
IVGRIN
and a 2- cent stamp (to pay postage) to
THE 1'. B. WILLIAMS COMPANY, Glastonbury, Conn.
Without the Dove, it will be sent for three 2-cent stamps—6 cents.
Ivorine is the purest and most perfect washing powder that skill and experience can pro-
Manufactured with the same care that has made Williams’ Shaving Soaps so famous for .
Each package of Ivorine contains a cake of Williams’ fine White
y enjoyed .by all the family. ,
Take the Star out of the ring and put
——tl1ink \ou have learned the
Afior ds fun by
Most puz-
' WASHING
POWDER,
mammogram“ ‘ om‘fi’iofi’hfi
~ I. muf- {if-1'21”
' PURIFIES POISONED Am.
With a Pneumatophnr Firemen May Go
Into the Most Stiflllng Booms.
Firemen who have/to enter smoke
and minersfiw-ho have to breathe after
damp will not. need to fear these dan-
gers when a recent Viennese invention
comes to be used by them. It is called
“pneumato‘phor, ” and enables a man to
inhale noxious fumes with impunity.
Chevalier de Walche1-Uysdal and D-L‘
Gaertner, professor at the University
of Vienna, are the inventors. «-
It consists of a11- air—tight India rub-
ber bag, containing first, a steel bottle
holding sixty liters of pure oxygen at
a pressure of 100 atmospheres, and
secondly, a glass bottle (protected by
a metal one) containing 425 cubic cen-
timeters of 5 per cent solution of cans-
tic soda. By means of a handscrew
outside the bag, the oxygen can be let
into the bag at intervals, as required
for breathing, while the turning of
another handsorew breaks the glass
bottle inside and allows the caus-
tic soda to flow out and be ab-
sorbed by the network of knitted
strips of dimity in the bag. Then
there are an india rubber breathing
tube, with a mouthpiece, and two nose
clips (one a square one.)
After strapping the apparatus on to
his chest, the user lets some oxygen
into the bag, breaks the caustic soda!
bottle, takes the mouthpiece between
his lips and puts on a nose clip, so as
to breaths only through his mouth. He
inhale-s pure oxygen, while the caustic
soda absorbs the carbolic acid he ex-
h-ales, and thus sets the oxygen free to
be rebreathed. This makes it sufiice‘
for more than half an. hour if he is
moving, and about an hour and a half
if at rest—New York Press.
ELEPHANT FLESH A DELICAC‘r'.
The Best Part is the First Joint of the
Leg Below the Knee.
The flesh of the elephant is eaten in
its entirety by several of the African
tribes. The Philadelphia Lancet says
that a detail'of the process of butcher-
ing the animals is not pleasant read-
ing. The tools used are the assegai and
hatchet. The rough outer skin is first
removed in large Sheets. Beneath this
is a subcuticle, a pliable membrane,
from which the natives make water-
skins. The elephant yields large quan-
tities of fat, used in cooking the na-
tives’ sun-dried biltong, or dried strips
of the elephant’s flesh, and also in the
preparation of vegetables. African ex—
plorers of the Caucasian race agree
that one part of the elephant’s carcass,
when properly cooked, is a succulent
dish that will regale the most delicate
taste. This part, very strangely, is the
first joint of the leg below the knee,
which one would suppose to be the'very
toughest portion of the animal. To
. prepare the joint a hole three feet deep
is dug in the earth, and the sides of it
are baked hard by means of large live
coals. Most of the coals are then. taken
out, and the elephant’s foot is placed
in the rude oven. The hole is then
filled with dirt, tightly packed, and a
blazing fire is built on top, which is
kept replenished for three hours. The
foot is thus evenly baked, and when
done, instead of strong, tough meat
fibre, it is of'a gelatinous consistency
that may be eaten with a spoon.
Hard Luck.
First Tramp—Didn’t I see you sawin'
.vood yesterday?
Second Tramp—Yes. Dat was one of
lem sad occas ions when a man what’s
azy finds he can’t afield to be idle.—
truth.
I I I
1,’
'.. .‘II
13c
SILK FROM THE SPURCE TREE.
Great Cars 1111511111 the Process of Making
the Silk-Like Fibres.
Silk of excellent quality is being
made from the spruce tree in Europe,
and a movement is on foot to establish
the industry in this country. It is said
that the cost of making silk by this
process is one-fifth. that of the spinning
from the silk worm cocoon. The fibre
takes dye as readily as the animal pro-
duct, and can be woven as securely and
as rapidly. It is also claimed that the
tensile strength of the fabric is at
silk. In trying to hit upon the pzutic
great as, if not greater than. the real
ular chemical process that the origl
nal fibr-e went through before it was
spun as silk by the loom, he found that
after the fibre had been separated il
needed the chemical action of a certain
form of glucose. In the new treatment
the tree is crushed, and the resulting
fibre ls mixed with glucose and then
placed in deep metal tubs. A disk.
somewhat like 11. steam piston. is then
forced down on the mass by hydraulic
pressure until it is compressed into a
very heavy gum. At the bottom of the
tubs are tubes terminating in tiny
glass nipples, with exceedingly smali
apertures. Under the. hydraulic pres-
sure the mixture is forced out of these
glass nipples in silk- like fibres, which
me so fine that the girls who are em-
Iployed in this portion of the process
are obliged to wear highly magnifying
glasses in order to distinguish when
any of the fibres break. The mate
rial is then carried over electrically.
THE ORIGINAL
Stamped 11 BOSS”
Always the Sae
heated drums, which dry the ether and
; the alcohol out of it. It is then plunged
into iced water, dried, and spooled for1
the looms. ~St. Louis Globe Democrat
A LONG DRINK.
Rather Expensive to Supply a Camel wit“...
Wgter at Eight Certs 3 Gallon.
The great scarcity of water in West-
ern Australia is well known. Twenty-
five miles from Kanowna the author
of the Land of Gold had this experi-
ence; “\V e had now to halt to fill our
water cans and give the camels :1
diink, as the1e would be no possibil—
ity of letting them have their fill again
for some days after this. Having had
a sort of farewell civilized meal at one
of the hotels, I strolled down to the
condensers, where my camels had pre-
ceded me. Little had I imagined
what eight cents per gallon for water
meant when I told the men to give the
animals ‘as much as they could drink.’
I do not believe I am an. inhuman
man, and I feel sure I am as fond of
animals as any one; but I must con-
fess that my kindly feelings went
down to a very low ebb indeed as I
stood there watching gallon after gal-
lon disappear down the apparently in‘
satiable throats of the animals. I for‘
get for the moment how many dollars
this long drink cost me, but it certain-
ly was the biggest teetotal drink I
have ever paid for. I learned after-
wards thzit it was a month since the
poor brutes had had a drink, as they
had not been working during that
time, and when out at feed they never
l'l‘.1!_l1ll'e water, it appears. However
woe this may be, they undoubtedly
1::1l1c up for it when they get a chance
at somebody else’s expense.”
31101111 \Hctoria’s Windsor Boudoir.
it may bainter-esting to know that
auteen Victoria’s boudoir at Windsor
is; furnished in red and gold, that every
article was selected by the late Prince
Consort. and that her Majesty keeps
the. first bouquet given her by Prince
Albert, with her bridal wreath, under
a glass case in her bedroom.
It? Pathllght
‘ with
Extra ,
lights the way and stays lighted. All brass,
nickel-plated—no tin; outside oil- filler; cotton
packed oil fount, double convex ground’photo-
lens, burns kerosene, throws a light 90 It. and
weighs but 12 ounces.
Three years a leader, and three years’
improvements now ‘addcd. Absolutely the
handsomest and best bicycle lamp ever made.
Sold by all leading dealers.
. THE PLACE & TERRY MFG. CO.,
247 Centre S__tr_____eet, New York.
See Our new, cheaper lamp-the “Scorcher.”
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Norwalk Chronicler