_ in, the
" 3 ' PLANTING THE TREE. ,
SIGK HEADAGHE
Positively cured by these‘
Little Pills. ,
They also relieve Distress from Dyspepsia,
Indigestion and T00 Hearty Eating. A pera
feet remedyfor Dizziness, Nausea, DrOWSi-
ness, BadTastein the Mouth,1C,oated Tongue
Pain in the Side, TORPID LIVER. They
Regulate the Bowels. Purely‘Vegeaug.
Small Pill. Small Dose.
Small Price.
HOSTETTERS Want 0f Appetite
CELEBRATED Indicates a
DISORDERED
SYSTEM.
:BRACE IT UP
\VITH THE
BITTERS
which satisfy and
:1. .
nourish the inner
man.
STOMACH
TTERS
lil
ABBOTT’S
»aunnr
Dom Paml
.. Cures callus, aumous and WAln's
SPEEDILY and, wmlcur PAIN. .
FOR SALE BY ALL DRUGGISTS.
LZPPMAN snorssns, Prop’rs,
Llppman’s Block. SAVANNAH. GA.
shortness of
breath—a
sensation
of dryness
and heat
HALE’S
HGNEY
HGREHUUN
Neglect
, is dangerous TAfi
Hale's Honey of Horehound and Tar acts
like a charm on the throat and bronchial tubeS.
Use it before it's too late. Sold by druggists.
throat.
Pike’s Toothache Drops cure in one miezltc.
HALE \
Lars: a.
BALSAM 4-
. 25.
. Ask Your Druggist
NEWL YORK. NEW HAVEN a EIAl’TF 01:1)
BAIL BOA
~anD Yonxmvzsrox
NOVEMBER 28, 1897.
T: cine leave South Nor'walk as follows
EOE NEW YORK ——- Accommodation
trainsat9.36a. m., 1.11, 3.04 4.07, 5.33,
6.41. 8.,11 10. 20 p. 111. Express trains
at 4. 55, 5. 45, 6.15, (local), 6. 55, (local).
7.13, (local), 7.56. (local), 8.17.9.03(local)
9.58,10.35. 11.37, (local) a. m. 12.47,
2.25: 5.05 5. 55, 7. 55 p. m. For Washing~
ton via Harlem Rivel 12. 53a. m. (daily).
SUNDAYS—Accommodation 9.1521. 111.
5. 43, (local), 7. 23. (local) 9.281). 111.- '13);
press 4. 55, 5.45 a. m.
FOR NEW HAVEN AND THE EAST-—
Accommodation trains at 6. 32, 7.42,
8. 46 and 11. 42a. 7.,m 1. 37,2 .42, (to B'p’t),
4.20, 5.27 6.27, 7.28(toB-‘p t). 8.41, 9.41
and 11.15 p. m. Express trains at 1.11,
1.20. 9.,11 1005,1108 a m.12.02,3.05,
5. 041(Naugatuck Express) 1.10 p. m.
SUNDAYS—Accommodation 7.42, 9.12
a. m. and7. 15 p. m Expless 1.11 and
1.2021. m.
. o. 'T. HEMPSTEAD, Gen. Pass. Agent.
.5—
oAmo w. RAYMOND
3 rural tractor all 111le81
as Washington Slntlbcmb bowel
«donor . M and!” Hotel.
I.
j We pl. [111} the staff for our country 8 flag.
And relish the :-
GOO D THINGS
\\l p. 'ant the ship which will cross the sea.
'x\ e 93- mt the must to carry the sail;
\\ c. plant the planks to withstand the gale—
"1‘he keel. the keelsrn, and beam and knee;
We plant the ship when we plant the tree.
L What do we plant when we plant the tree?
\\ 1| it do no 01111117 when we plant the tl ee?
\\ e D out the homes for you and me. '
\\ e pl: ml the raftcls. the shingles. the floors.
\\ e plant the studding, the lathe. the doors.,
The cams and sidings. all par ts that be—
\\ c p11 int she home when we plant the tree.
What, do we plant when we "plant the tree ?
A thousand things that we daily see
\\ e pl out the spires that outtow er the crag.
\\ e plant the shade. from the hot sun flee;
\\ 0 plant all these when .\Ve plant the tree.
New York Evangelist
THE MORAL CENSOR.
I had watched her for some moments
as my ’bus rolled slowly down Picca-
dilly, and was greatly taken by her ap-
pearance The pavements and the cal-
riages were full of well- dressed and
beautiful women; but somehow I seem
ed to have eyes for no one but that
girl. She wore“the sweetest costume—
something in blue picked out with
white at the/collar and cuffs, and I in-
ferred, White on the front ofthe bodice.
She was steering her bicycle with skill
and boldness through the five o’clock
traffic, and I longed to see her face,
which, I felt convinced, Would please
my eye. But this, of course, I could
not do, as she was riding steadily
about ten yards in front of us.
I leaned forward to the driver, hand-
ing him my open tobacco pouch.
“Do you think,” I said, “you could
hurry up a. bit and pass that lady
ahead? I Want. tosee her face.”
He turned, “and, jerking his head in
hel direction, said,—
“Lidy on the bike—blue dress—c111
saucy?”
“You’ve guessed it,” I replied.
He winked. Then he brushed his
horses with the whip, and passed the
Victoria ’bus ahead. The girl, seeing
a clear space before her, quickened up
and held her own.
, “I don’t think We can do it,” I said,
resigning myself to disappointment.
He held his pipe between two fingers
and filled it with the remaining two.
feeling meanwhile with his thumb for
a match. I gave him my match-box.
“It’s all right,” he said, as he nursed
the flaming match in his fist and puff-
ed his pipe into action, “there’s a block
at the corner.”
The girl slowed down and stepped
easily and surely from her bicycle.
She stood upon the curbat the corner
leaning on her machine.
As the ’bus drew up by her side, I
leaned over and saw her face. I was
not disappointed. It was as I thought
She was, to me, amazingly beautiful.
“You will excuse'me, sir,” said a
voice at my side, “but you have gained
your object.”
I looked around at my neighbor and
saw a lady, by no means ill-looking
of about my own age, which is on the
wrong side of thirty. She was regard-
ing me with much apparent aversion."
“You‘have seen the young lady’s
face, and now, perhaps—that’s right,
coachman, drive on.”
The ’bus moved slowly forward. 1
reflected a moment, for I had not no-
ticed my neighbor before, and was a
little startled at her implied reproof
- “Excuse me,” I said, “I haven’t quite
gained myiobject. I want to make her
look at me, and she won’t. Now, what
is the etiquette in such cases?”
I turned and waved my arm at her
as the ’bus moved on. But she was
mounting her machine, and, being oc‘
‘cupied with the arrangement of he)
skirts, took no notice of me.
“May I ask,” said my neighbor, “i:
that young lady is your sister, or your
cousin, or—?”
“‘Certainly not,” I replied.
you ask?”
“Then, sir, I feel it my duty to tell
you that you are no gentleman.”
“I know that,” I replied and sighed
“But I always pretend to be, and the
public is so'gullible. How did you find
me out?”
“No gentleman,” she said, “would
seek to annoy a lady in the street, es-
pecially a. lady who, clearly, does not
wish to notice him. And I can see that
girl is persistently avoiding you.”
“on, is she?” I said.
moment. She’llbe as pleased as any-
thing when she sees 1that I have no-
ticed hel. Nothing annoys a woman
like indifference.”
,“A gill—alone and unprotected—"
she began.
“ She should be all the more pleas ed
to see me,” I said.
_She was abreast? of the "bus again
and I leaned over the side, waving my
“Why do
hat. She looked up with a glance o!
surprise. I nodded pleasantly. She
lifted her eyebrows and smiled. But
a crawling hansom took her attention
and she fell behind again.
“There!” I said. “If ever a girl look
ed pleased, there she is. Who am 1
that I should refuse a momentary sat-
isfacétion to a lonely girl?”
I turned with a smile to my neigh-
bor Her face was flushed with anger
fm I had clearly proved her to be ill
the Wlong.
‘ It is men like youlself who are the
-—the blots on our vaunted civilization
she said. “Such a sweet, innocent fac<
too."
“Yes, isn't it?" I said. “I am so glaé
you aglee with me. It’s the sort 01
face I’ve always admired; and as 5001
certain she would have that sort 0
face That's why I wanted to get 2
look at it.
“Such men as
neighbm.
“New, if I
you———” began my
_ were not a married man,‘
’1 continued, reflectively "that is the
rcry girl I would marry at' once As
ll: is, of course; I can. ‘.t But thats no
my fault. is it?" '-
, very different.”
’ happy—as happy as that girl.
Vher appreciatively as she floated away.
“Just wait a
exhibitions :1 re deceitful; the bridlers-
as I caught a back view of her I fell.
“‘You are married?” said the lady.
“I am, ” I replied.
“That makes it much worse,”'she
said. a
“On the contrary, it is my excuse," I
said. “It is all owing to my wife.
it were not for her I. should be—well—
“She must be a miserable woman,”
said the lady, “if she knows of your
condu‘ct. My heart bleeds for her.”
“Not at all,” I said. “She is quite
did you ever see a more charming
girl?” '
I turned and sent a nod in the direc-
tion of the girl who was pedalling
along quietly just behind the ’bus, She
lifted one hand frdm the handle—bar
and waved it to me. in'friendly re-
sponse. .
“Undel the circumstances,” I said, “I
think I shall speak to her; otherwise I
might miss her when I get off at Sloane
Street. Do you think she. would
mind?” ~, » 5‘
“Let 'me implore you,” said my
neighbor; “if you do, I shall speak to
the conductor.” . ,
“It would be grossly improper,” I
said, “unless he happens to be your
brother—or your cousin—or—
The lady sniffed and looked round.
But the conductor was not in view.
I leaned down, and the girl looked
up inquiriugly, riding to the side of the
’bus. ‘ ’
“I'am going to get off at Sloane
Street,” I called to her; “will you stop
there?”
She nodded, and bending slightly
over the handles, quickly outstripped
the ’bus and rode on down the slope.
I leaned back in my seat and watched
“Never in my life,” I murmured,
“have I seen any one whom I admire
more. A most delightful girl!”
“A most disgraceful incident!” said
my neighbor.
“You see,” I said, affably, “two peo~
ple meet—’twas in a crowd—and their
hearts rush together like magnets, or
poles, or whatever the things are. It
is quite clear to me that we were made
for one another. Don’t you believe in
affinities? They are fun.”
“It is not a matter for jesting; it is
a very serious matter to tamper in this
way with the innocence of—”
“I think it is rather a joke," I said.
“It may be a joke for the manr—or,
rather, he may think so, mistakenly;
but you never by any chance think of
the girl. And Ifeel it my duty as a
woman to protest against—"
“Bless my soul!” ,I exclaimed, “I
think of the girl always. She is never
out of my thoughts.”
“The girl!”
“Yes, the girl—that girl.
explain? 011, here we are!”
“Sloane Street!” said the conduct-
or.
I jumped up. >
“Well, we’ve had a most interesting
conversation,” I said. “You see, she‘ s
waiting for me there at the corner. I
knew it. I never'underrate my attrac-
tions.”
As I descended to the pavement, Ce-
lia greeted me with a smile of welcome
while the eyes of my late neighbor
bored two holes inm‘yback.
“How lucky to meet like this,”
said Celia. “Where did you see me
first?”
“Oh, in Piccadilly,” I replied. “But
I couldn’t be sure it was you until]
saw your face. I wanted to get some
tobacco here and then we can walk
along home.”
“Had an amusing day?” said Celia
“Excellent,” I said; “more particu-
larly the ride down.”
“You seemed very much interested in
the lady on the ’bus,” said Celia, as
we stopped at the tobacconists. “Did
you know her?”
“Never saw her before,” I said.
“Right under my very'eyes, too.”
“I couldn’t help it,” I said. “She
seemed to have some objection to me,
or to you, or to something or other—
seemed to see something 1V mug in our
behavior. ”
“Didn’t she know I was your wife?"
“She didn’t know me,” I replied. "
“But didn’t you tell her?” asked Ce-
lia.
“Well,” I said, “now I come to think
of it, I don’t believe I did.”
_—.F—.—ai——————
A. Definition of Bridlers.
Reading a volume of eighteenth cen-
tury memoirs. we came across this sen-
tcnce: “Pauline is not yet so genteel
as Jockey,- because she is very fat, but
she hridlos very well.” Do you think
that Pauline bridled with indignation
or pride? No. and yet few diction-
aries give any clue to the meaning. Tc
bridle properly was regarded as a
great accomplishment. The word re-
fers to a ccrlzlin manner of carrying
the chin Well up in the air when a
young woman enters a room to salute
company. There are men to-day who
"bridle" in 1110 street, but such chin
Didn’t I
G
are generally men of extreme timidity’
and irresolution.—Boston Journal.
ll is Proudest DIoment.
“This,” remarked the‘ newly elected
Congressman, as he stepped into the
Capitol ‘is the proudest moment 01
my life!"
“But you are only getting started”.
protested his wife.
“That’sjust it. I'm thinking about
the things I’ in going to accomplish, in-
stead of the things I tried to do and
oculdn' 1. ——Washington Star.
or Course He Wouldn’t.
“You Wouldn’t marry {a girl solely. ‘
'for money would you?” '
“Oh,- dear no—that is, not if 1 could
get money with a girl .who had some
other attraction also."-—Chicago 12181.
If'
Now -
SISTER’S BABY.
I s‘pose I‘ll have to
see the thing.
Aw—ma she makes
me sick
on and talks—
And brother Sam‘ll
stick
F or a half a day :11 ound the house—
’l‘he must I m or saw—
He strl: ts :uound and acts a fool
If some one Calls him “pa.‘
T lien rd the baby cry to-day.
Such howls .you never heard.
\ "l‘ninr even got a decent voice
But ,tl ey don’tsay a. word.
If I «1 let out such sqnawks as that
I :alralch it good you let!
Ma. d say "\mx- Tommy. stop that noise..—
And what a spank I’d get.
Sam says that. I’m an uncle now.
I don‘t believe it though—
0 misc uncles all are 9:10an up men,
He thinks that I don t know.
He thinks because he is a ‘,’pa
He ll fool me good that way. '
But he can‘t catch me with that talk,
No matter what he’ll say.
Ma‘ says the baby looks like Sue,
. And pa and her agree.
Sam says that when it cries and kicks
He thinks it looks like me.
Oh. but he thinks he's awful smart.
He thinks he‘s funny. too,
But when they bring that. baby out
I’ll run-what’s what I’ll do.
But sister Sue's been awful g00d
\thn I was sick in bed;
She stayed right by mdtday and night
01' else [might be dead.
She might feel bad if 1 was mean—
And Sue ain’t meanw-no. sir,
I s’pose I’ll have to see the thing:
I guess I will——fer her.— At Dunlap.
. \Vitllout Their Dinner.
Going without their Thursday din-
ner is the saCrifice some little girls at
Cape Mount, Africa, make for sweet
charity’s sake.
Nor is it for a week or a month or
a year, but for ten years, without a
lapse, these brave little colored girls
have been denying themselves that
they might have something to give
away to others.
At this point in Africa there is a
mission school, 1n charge
American ladies. About thirty little
girls belong to it. Some years ago——
ten, to be exact~their teacher told.
them the sad fate which befell super—'
fluous little girl babies in China—that
more often than not it happened that
they were drowned, theinparents re-
garding it as too expensive to rear
them. The students were also told
that the missionaries in China were of-
ten able to buy these babies, and then,
of course, they were brought 11p as
Christians.
To add a mite to the fund for this
purpose at once became the desire of
the little Cape Mount girls, who were
themselves 'being educated in the
Christian religion. At first there didn’t
seem to be anything that they could
do. They racked their little brains
trying to think how- they could earn
a penny. At last some one of the older
'children‘su aested a plan, which at
first probaby sent dismay to a few
hearts, buttin the end all thirty gladly
consented to a Thursday, week after
week, without a dinner. . '
The sum thus saved at first seemed
small, but at the end of a year it was
considerable, more than enough to buy
not Chinese babies by the dozen, per-
haps, but. by the piece.—¥—Chicago Int-er-
Ocean.
Ambulance Dogs.
'One may see any day circulating in
the streets of the village of Lechensch,
near Cologne, a regular battalion of
dogs. Their master is training them
for ambulance service in military
movements.
Each animal carries upon its back a
little saddle furnished with pockets
containing ,all that is necessary for a
first dressing of wounds, as well as a
bottle of brandy.
The dogs are taught to recognize the
wounded, and to stoop down to them,
in order to permit them, while await-
ing the stretchers, to quench their
thirst, and to alleviate their sufferings
a little.
A large red cross is marked on the
saddle, and leather straps serve to fas-
ten around the neck of the animal a
little lantern that is illuminated for
night service. '
\Vananmker Turned Bricks.
The early days of John Wanamaker
were not easy by any means. When
only a lad, of 5 years he made bricks,
or, rather, assisted in making, for his
business was to turn them in the sun
until they were evenly baked. For this
labor he received 2 cents a day, and
sometimes cleared 10 cents a week; but
it must be remembered that there were
many rainy days when the force of
youthful “workmen” had to be laid off.
John’s first real rise to fortune was in
the days when, as 'oiiicc boy, he saved
money enough to start in business for
himself. He worked as assistant in
the office until. he had climbed up to
$6 a weekend then, seeing that he
could get no more, he bought a little
stock of cheap furniture and started in
to be a merchant.-Pittsburg Dispatch.
a... —.
‘Her Age.
CondllCIOlr-r“IIOW old are you, little
gil i‘.’ '
1.dna~_~“You will have to ask ma.
She .11“ ays takes charge of my age in
1 street car.,
r
ing Post.
r The way she carries
of some'
Revue-14:5 V‘Ensl‘or: A DRUG. .
Booksellers Are Still Overstocked with
Copies of the Newest Bible.
Those who remember the enormous
sales which attended the introduction
of the revised.versi<')n of the holy
scriptureswill be not a little Surprised
at the general collapse which has grad-
ually made this publication a drug in
the market. .Over sixteen years ago
the first edition or the revised New
Testament was published at the 0x-
ford Press, and at that-”Limb so stren-
uous were the efforts made to obtain
advance sheets of it, thatone hohse
alone offered £5,000 for a single copy
without success” When the reviséd
version of the entire Bible was pub-
lished, four years later, the run on the
Oxford University Press warehouse
was unprecedented, upward of 1,000,-
900 copies being issued between one
midnight and the next midday. At the
New York branch of the Oxford Press,
in Bleecher street, the oflice was be-
sieged the night before publication,
and special detectives were placed
around the building to prevent over-
eeger purchasersfrom' obtaining c0p-
ies, even by depositing their money.
It is estimated that 1,000,000 copies
were sold in this country‘during Elie
first three weeks after the publication.
Such a sale has never before' been
known, and several American firms,
including Harper Bros, D. Apleton &
Co., Dodd, Mead & 00., and Porter &
Coates “of Philadelphia, issued Ameri-
can editions in large 'quantities to meet
the demand.
The collapse was experienced less
than two months after the first ap-
pearance of the new version. The to—
tal loss to the American firms interest-
- ed has been variously estimated to be
between $500,000 and $600,000. From
that date until now the sales have been
extremely small, less than eight copies
being sold to ,100 of the King James
version.
As a text book it is considered al-
most invahlable, and is used extensive-
ly by clergymen of all denominations
211111 in many Sunday schools. Its su-
periority in technical accuracy is ev-
erywhere recognized. 'Its lack of pop-
ularity in public worship seems to
ail-ow out of a loss of sentiment, which
is found to so large a degree in the
authorized version. . One of the pas-
sages which has evoked the most un-
favorable comment- is 'the translation
of the Lord’s prayer, which in Mat-
thew vi., 9-14, is‘made to read as fol-
lows; >
“Our Father which art in‘ heaven,
hallowed be, thy name.’ Thy kingdom
come. Thy will be done, as in heaven,
so on earth. Give us this day our
daily bread. And fOrgive us our debts
as we also have forgivenra our debtors.
And bring us not into temptation, but
deliver us from the evil one.”
The substitution of “the evil one"
for “evil” brought forth a flood of crit-
icism.
Another passage which has attract-
ed attention i‘s :the translation of “Glo-
ria in Excelsis.” Instead of “Glory be
to God in the highest, and on earth
peace, good will to men,” the revised
version has it: “Glory to God in the
highest,_and "on earth, peace among
men in whom” he is well pleased.”
These two passages, perhaps, alone
have decided the fate of the new ver-
sion as a. book “appointed to be read
in churches.”—New York Times,
THIS TOWN IS A COMMONWEALTH.
ANew Colony at Ruskin, Tenn., which
Runs Smoothly.
Mr. Klamroth, an advocate of social-
ism reform, a resident of Ruskin
Tenn., a small town near Nashville
that is conducted on the co-operativa
commonwealth system, in an interview
gives some very interesting facts aboul
the new colony.
Ruskin is situated on' the Nashville
Chattanooga & St. Louis Railroad, fifty
miles west of Nashville. It was incor-
porated three years ago last August by
thirty people. Its inhabitants now
number 225 persons. The original in-
corporators '_of the town subscribee
encugh money to purchase half the
land that is now the site of the town
The other half was donated to then
by people interested in the enterprise
and anxious to see the commonwealth
succeed. This co-operative common-
wealth colony now owns .1,005 acres 0;
excellent ground and the stores, thu
farm land and the mills are all con-
ducted on the co-operative plan. Near.
ly every family owns its own house
but every resident in the place eats al
the same dining table. In the. morning
the rising bell rings at 5:30 o’clock anc’
all. the members of, the colony have it
conform to a set of regulations which
prescribe that all shall rise at this
hour. At 6:10 o’clock the breakfasx
hell is rung and all the families of tilt
village gather in the dining room: The
table is waited on by schoolgirls, whc
also wash the dishes. At " o’clock an
other bell is rung that is the signal tc
begin w01k for the day. None of thfl
men or women members of the colon);
are laggards or drones and as soon :1: i
this bell is sounded they at once he
take themselves tothe work that ha:-
been assigned. —Chicago Chronicle. !
---. .__—.__-. ...
’ PRAISE' FOR-THE Ass:
Viitues of the Humble Moire Have Been A
‘ Sadly Overlooked
To be called an ass is a great com<
pliment. Humility, patience, charity
and industry havebeen recognizedas
great virtues ever since mankind has
been introspective; but the world has:
failed to notice that the ass,- whichfis‘
the brunt of the jes’ts of all-nations,
possesses theSe qualities more fully '
than any other animal or any human
being, except the proverbial one in a
million.
The ass is to be found in every'part
of the w011d, always melancholy and
slow, nobly doing his work, whether
. in the Andes, the Himalayas, the Rock-
ies, or in the place of his nativity, the
Orient. Wherever he is, his dominant
characteristics are the same. Wherev-
el he is, he is generally abused; per-
haps because he puts up with abuse so
meekly.
Always be is the friend of the poor.
In countries where {horses cannot be
afiorded he is the sole means of trans-
port. All day long he will go over 3'
hot plain or up a rocky mountainside,
loaded down with more than any horse
could bear, though his weight is only
half that of the average horse, while
if a. horse were limited to the food he
subsists on the horse, would fall down
in its tracks and die, though it had no
load. With the load it would fall down
anyway.
That the ass can be cured of his only
two vices of braying and kicking is
_ proved by the superior conduct of the
London make, who is about a third
cousin of the Oriental ass of myth, of
fable and Biblical story. The moke,
who is about the size of a big New-
foundland dog, draws the barrels of
the cos-termongers who yend fruits
and vegetables from' door to door in
all parts of the city.
There is no finer playfellow for chil-
dren than a moke. When his fuzzy fur
is washed it is soft, flufly and pretty.
A youngster may crawl all over him'
and under him, and pound and pull'
him in every part of his anatomy, and
he will only smile the contented smile
of the moke who is living in the moke
heaven of currycombs and good ra-
tions.
That the ass is not stupid is proved
by his equal cleverness with the horse
in learning tricks, by his picking his
way where a horse cannot go, by his
calmness under conditions that make
a horse uncontrollably fretful. But he
seems homely and out. of proportion,
unless you look at him closely; and the
world too often goes by appearances.
Scrutinize sharply the patient face of
the ass, and you will find those quali-
ties which make a. face educational and
perhaps even beautiful..—New Orleans
Picayune.
DOCTOR'S BILL IN ALASKA.
Only 8400 for Amputating an Arm—
Soothingv Syrup 38.00 a Bottle.
Charles H. Metcalf, who recently re-
turned from the Klondike brought news
concerning the welfare of Dr. P. J.
B. Le Blane, a Detroit physician who
accompanied him to Alaska last Jan-
uary. Mr. Metcalf says that when he
left Dawson City, last July, Dr. Lo
Blane had a practice from which he
received an income of $100 a day. As
the doctor had been in the camp only
s;x weeks, he was much encouraged at
the pr ospect of doing a flourishing bus-
iness in the winter, when pneumbonla,
rheumatism and other diseases inci-
dent to, extreme cold weather usually
find many victims.
According to Mr. Metcalf the'doctor
goes about his prOfessional duties with
a case Of medicines and surgical in-
:truments in one hand and a. buckskin
bag for gold dust in the other. As
there is very little money in the camp,
gold dust forms the principal medium
of exchange, and each time the doctor
calls upon apatient he is given enough
nuggets to pay the bill. When Mr.
Mctcalf left Dawson the doctor had not
had time. to arrange a schedule'of
prices, but he thinks a tariff sheet
made up as follows would not be far
out of the way:
One bottle of soothing syrup. . . . $8.00
Prescribing for frost-bitten ear. 7.50
Setting a broken leg ........... -. 225.00
Amputating an arm . . . . . . . . . . . 400.00
“It is very difficult to get medicine
and surgical instruments over the
pass,” said Mr. Metcalf, “and doctors’
hills are therefore extremely high.
Doctors are also very scarce. —Detroit
Journal.
lIie Accomplishments.
' Askins—They say that Broad-head is
an accomplished linguist.
Grimshaw—Yes; he speaks six dif-
ferent languages—English, baby talk.
society gabble, baseballdialect, bill-
of-fare French and the New Jersey
language. ——New York World.
The Stump was There.
“I tell you, Maria, I’m hungry for,
home- made bread. This dry stuff
makes me sick.”
“Why; George! This is home-made
bread.”
“This!" -_
“Yes, dear. It’s stamped ‘home-
made’ on every loaf.”-—Clevela.nd
- I Plain, Dealer.
V THE ORIGINAL -,
Stam and .I‘ Boss” , ‘ .
Always the Same
Norwalk Chronicler