{with no further adventure, I was at the
2
——._..._..
TO MY SETTER, SCOUT.
You are a tried and loyal friend.
The'end
or life will find you'leal, unweary
or tested bands that much canrend.
And e‘en if years be sad and dreary
Our plighted friendship will extend.
A truer friend man never had:
‘Tis sad
That ‘mongst all earthly friends the fewest
Unfaithful ones should thus be clad
In canine lowliness; yet, truest
They, be their treatment good or bad.
Within your eyes methinks 1 find
A kind
And thoughtful look of speechless feeling
That mem‘ry‘s loosened cords unbind,
And let the dreamy past come stealing
Through your dumb. reflective mind.
Scout. my trusty friend. can it be
You see
Again, in retrospective dreaming.
The run, the woodland and the lea,
With past autumnal sunshine streaming
O‘er ev‘ry frost dyed field and tree?
Or do you see now once again
The glen
And fern, the highland and the thistle?
And do you still remember when
We heard the brigh t eyed woodcock whistle
Down by the rippling shrub edged fen?
..
I see you turn a listening ear
To hear
The quail upon the flower pied heather;
But, doggie. wait till uplands sere,
And then the autumn‘s waning weather
Will bring the sport we hold so clear
Then we will hunt the loamy swale
And trail
The snipe, their cunning wiles o‘ercoming;
And oft will flush the bevied quail,
And hear the partridge slowly drumming
Dull echoes in the leaf strewed dale.
When wooded hills with crimson light
Are bright,
We’ll stroll where trees and vines are growing:
And see birds warp their southern flight
At sundown, when the Day King‘s throwing
Sly kisses to the Queen of Night.
But when the leaves of life‘s fair dell
Have fell,
And Death comes with the autumn‘s even
And separates us, who can tell
But that, within the realm of heaven.
We both together there will dwell?
—Frank Selden.
THE CAMP OF DEATH.
The lndians of the west were never so fierce
and vindictive as after the close of the civil
war. Beginning with the spring of 1866,
there was a rush of emigrants into the new
states and territories, and about this time
came reports of gold and silver in several 10-
calities. The government pushed troops intc
new districts, established additional posts,
and the red man saw the handwriting on the
wall. He realized that he would be overrun
unless the movement could be checked, and
the various tribes buried their differences for
the time being, and united all their energies
on the one object of driving the white man
back. The number of emigrants, land brok-
ers, prospectors and scouts killed between
May, 1868, and the campaign which closed
with Custer’s death will never be known. It
was impossible for any one to secure figures.
Men were butchered singly. in pairs and by
fives and tens along a frontier a thousand
miles in length, and not one case in tea was
ever recorded in the public prints. It was
the beginning of the end, and five years ago
the power of the red man was broken and he
was compelled to yield to the inevitable.
I was sent to Fort Laramie, in Wyoming
territory, early in the summer of 1865, hav-
ing accepted the position of government
scout, and I held that position all through 1
the troubles of the next four years. It may
be inferred, therefore, that I had my full
share of close calls and narrow escapes. As
soon as fresh troops arrived at that and other
forts, and the work of subduing the Indians
began in earnest, every redskin who could
handle a gun was put into the field. Indeed,
boys no more than 12 years of age, armed
with bows and arrows, had the opportunity
to show their mettle, and I knew of several
fights in which the younger squaws took
part. It was a case of do or die with the In-
dian, and he sacrificed his pride and his
legends that he might hold his own against
the white soldiers. l carried dispatches be
tween Julesburg and Laramie, and between
Lizraxnie and Fort Fettermau, and outside of
this accompanied detached bodies on expedi- .
tions or scouted on my own account. There
was never a day of rest, and never a. day
when one felt sure that he would live to see
the sun go down. Soldiers were killed within .
a mile of the gates of the fort, and the place f
was so constantly under surveillance that it ‘
was hardly possible to get in or out without
being fired upon.
The strangest adventure of the whole war
befell me in July, 1866, and there was a mys-
tery connected with it which has not been
solved to this day. i had been out with a
detached command of 160 cavalry, which
had scouted along the north fork of the
Platte east from Laramie to the Cooper
mountains. These mountains are the begin-
ning of the Black Hills chain. 0n the east
side of the mountains we turned to the north,
rode for two days and the cavalry then
made a bait for a day and retired to Jules-
burg. The object was to cover as much ter-
ritory as possible and give the Indians to un-
derstand that we were aggressive. I had to
report to the commander of Fort Laramie,
and instead of returning and ascending the
Platte, ldecided to try for a pass through
the Copper mountains, my fellow scouts hav-
ing told me that several existed. I left the
cavalry camp soon after dark, it being about
twenty miles east of the mountains. We had
been dogged by Indians for two days, and I
made my start at night to throw them oil?
the scent. I had a jet black horse, speedy
and intelligent, and the risk was not so great.
providing I did not run into a small band by
accident. _
For the first two miles out of camp I
walked my horse, both of us watching and
listening. His senses were sharper than
mine, and all of a sudden he came to a dead
halt and pointed his nose to the west, like a
dog flushing a bird. That meant danger. He
had been trained down fine before I got him,
and was to be depended on as much as if he
could speak.‘ I was no sooner off his back
than he lay down, and I had scarcely
crouched beside him when three Indians,
mounted on ponies and heading to the east,
passed us to the right on a walk. The near-
est one was not over ten feet away, and I
plainly scented the tobacco from his pipe.
The ground was broken, with masses of rock
outcropping here and there, and it would have
taken sharp eyes to detect us even at that
short distance. I heard them mumble and
mutter as they passed on, and not until ten
minutes after the footsteps of the ponies
died awayin the distance did we rise and
proceed. Had my horse been on the gaIlOp,
or hadhe been ten seconds later in discover-
ing the redskins, I might not have got away.
Half anhour after daylight, having met
base of the mountains, striking the range
seventeen miles from its southern end, and at
a place which has since been named Crook’s
Pass. Ihadiittle‘fe‘arof finding Indians in
themountains, unless'itwal a bodypassing
through the gap. As soon as I was secure
. there.
NORWALK GAZETTE, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 28 1889.
from the prairie I made a fire, got ready my
coffee, and rested for two hours. Then I set
out to reach the other side of the range,
where I wOuld either stay by until night or
push on for Laramie, according as the signs
indicated. The pass for the first half mile
was fair enough, for a wagon. After that it
was scarcely possible for a saddle horse to
make his way. It was difficult to tell which
was the main pass and which the branches,
and when about half way o'vcr the mountain
I came to a spot where I was completely
stuck. The pass I had been following was
now split into three, each one seeming to be
the main pass, and, as there was nothing to
guide me, I had to take one of them at a ven-
ture. If it was not the right one, I must re
turn and take another. I went to the left,
and, after going a few rods, found the pass
or cut overgrown with bushes, and badly
choked up by a fall of rock. The cut was
from twelve to twenty feet wide, twisting
about like a creek, but gradually leading up-
ward. The height of the bank on each side
was from fifty to two hundred feet, and the
mountain was so densely wooded that the
path was in semi-darkness.
I got my horse over the obstructions which
blocked the way and proceeded on for half a.
mile without finding any great change in the
general character of the pass. Then it sud-
denly swerved to the left and debouched into
a cove of about two acres in extent, which
nature had so walled in that the most agile
Indian would have been put to his trumps to
find a spot where the wall could be scaled.
It would have been more in keeping with
nature and the surroundings had the cove
been full of water, as small lakes of that kind
are frequently found in the mountains, but it
was not only solid earth, but so fertile that
. the sweet grass was knee high and there were
flowers without number. Before setting foot
on the grass 1 saw that this was the end of
the pass I had followed, and that I must to
turn. Idecided to let the horse graze for a
while, however, and it was only after I had
turned him loose that I caught sight of what
appeared to be six emigrant wagons standing
against the further wall. I was not sure of
their character until I had made half the dis
tance, and it was only when I got close up
that I discovered why they looked so queer.
Their canvas tops had turned black and rotted
away, and were now in rags and streaming
out in the breeze. The woodwork of the
wagons had turned gray, the tires of the
wheels ha’d rusted until the iron was almost
eaten away, and when I took hold of the hind
wheel of one of the vehicles and gave it a.
shake the spokes fell and the wagon came
crashing down amid a cloud of dust.
There was something so grewsome and
mysterious in my find that I wanted to run
away. I should have been no more surprised
to find a. steamboat resting there. No emi-
grant had yet dared penetrate so far into the
Indian country in that direction, and it was
far away from the overland trail to Califor-
nia. The presence of those wagons meant a
tragedy, and I was loth to begin an investi-
gation. I walked about the cove seeking to
brace my courage, and a few yards beyond
the wagons I came upon a heap of bones
which I knew to have belonged to horses or
cattle. A bit further on a huge fireplace had
been constructed of loose stones against the
face of a cliff, and the smoke had blackened
the wall for a distance of forty feet from the
ground. There was no sign of the presence
of any human being. It had been a long
time since the last fire was built, as the grass
was growing among the ashes and embers.
The key to the mystery must be hidden in the
wagons, and I returned to overhaul them.
You can hardly realize the lonesome look of
those vehicles. They were standing one be-
hind the other as closely as they could be
drawn. and the sight of them was proof that
years had gone by since they were parked
I should say that it would take at
least ten years to bring about such decay as I
saw in them. They were large and heavy,
made of the best materials, and yet a shake
would have brought any of them to the
ground.
I began with the first wagon, and I can
easily recall the contents of each. The first
wagon was piled full of harnesses, or the re-
mains of them. Time and decay had left
little except the buckles, and they were badly
rusted. I should say the heap contained the
harnesses of at least a dozen teams. In the
second wagon were a chest, two iron kettles,
a jug, and a heap of mold which probably
represented clothing. I hauled the chest out
and kicked it apart, but the contents had
gone to mold, except in the case of fifty
Mexican silver dollars, which had probably
been in a buckskin bag. The third wagon
also held a chest, but I found nothing of value
init. I found in this wagon the rusted re-
mains of several picks and shovels and heaps
of mold which represented either clothing
or provisions. The fourth wagon was empty.
The fifth contained picks and shovels and a
rough wooden box. From this box I rescued
a small one made of tin, and I broke that
open to find $40 in state bank bills, a rude
map evidently representing the Copper mount-
ains and neighborhood, and four five dollar
American gold pieces.
The fifth wagon had evidently been stored
with provisions, but I found nothing but
mold. In the sixth were three chests, two
shovels, three picks, the barrel of a rifle, a
rusty ax and a keg which held Whisky. In
one of the three big boxes I found a. silver
tobacco box containing $60 in Mexican gold
and a note or description. It had been writ-
ten on heavy paper and with good ink, but
some of the words had faded entirely away
and others had to be guessed. The following
‘ is the copy I made of it upon my return to
Fort Laramie:
* ‘ ' there will "' ‘ ’ about twenty, and
in " * " you should take precautions ‘ ' "'
Have Captain Jim see that f ‘ ‘ powder and
lead ‘ * * three months or more ‘ " '
same general direction ‘ ‘ " about due north
from * " " must act for " ‘ “ shall ex-
pect "‘ ‘ ‘ from man Isend.
The letter was unsigned, and so much of it
was illegible that we could only guess at the
general tenor. There had been a private ex-
pedition from Kansas years before. The
party had sought shelter in the mountain
valley. They had killed a portion if not all
their live stock for food. Then the men had
departed, but never one had returned to
civilization to tell the tale. All may have
been wiped out in the main pass or at the
base of the mountain, or some may have died
in the cave. Had the Indians ever found the
wagons they would have plundered and
burned them. The fact that they had not
only deepened the mystery. I had notice of
the discovery published far and wide in the
west, and on two occasions guided parties to
the cave that further examinations might be
' made, but to this day the fate of those people
is a mystery—New York Sun.
Discovered at Last.
“John, did you mail that letter I wrote to
mother three weeks agol"
“Yes, dear.”
“Strange she didn’t get it.”
(Pause, during which John strives to dis-
appear.)
“John, did you put a stamp on it!”
“N—no, darling."—Harper’s Bauer.
Compensation. -
Accepted Salter—Won’t you find- lt awh-
wardwhen you meet your othertwohiu'r,
hands in heaven! .
Widow—I do not expect to *
Interesting
meet either of them there—Life.
DROVE A DOG TO SUICIDE.
HEATHENS OF THE STREETS PUR-
sus AND A csowo LOOKS ON.
The Poor, Punting Brute DeiiberatelyLies
Down Twice on the Pavement in Front
of a. Truck—Wounded, but Not Killed.
A Bullet Ends His Pains.
“Here, gimme that stone; I can fire
straighter than you, and I’ll hit him in der
neck.” ,
He was a barefooted, hatless, coatless boy.
There were a dozen of the young rascals, and
they were chasing a. poor dog down Wooster
street yesterday. The dog was a hoodlum,
foo—a shabby mongrel with a leather strap
about his neck and abit of rope hanging from
the strap. He had been foraging in the gar-
bage barrels when the boys got at him.
Stones, sticks, anything they could pick up
they “fired” at the dog. He was a big fellow,
who, despite his lack of flesh, weighed per-
haps sixty pounds, and if he hadn’t been so
worn out by hunger and so weary by the
chase, it is more than likely he could have
turned about and made his mark in the
annals of Bleecker street.
TRIED TO COMMIT SUICIDE.
But he didn’t have spunk enough to fight,
and at Prince street he tried to escape by -
dodging up toward Broadway. It was about
10:45 a. in. when the dog and the boys got to
Broadway, and straightway there was a hub-
bub. Business men and clerks and girls in
the shops came to the windows, stood in the
doorways, and some went out upon the street
to see the cause of all the excitement. A few
canicidal souls raised the cry of “mad dog.”
Tired dog or scared dog would have fitted
the circumstances better. The dog panted
and panted, and more than once slipped as
he ran. Some of the stones had hit him, and
there were marks on his body where he had
half rolled over the muddy stones.
When the dog had got about in front of
N iblo’s he turned and looked at his enemies.
They wore as relentless as ever, and their
chance to stand right over the dog and pelt
him was greater than it had been at any
other point in the hunt. The dog seemed to
take allthis in, and, giving up his straight
run up the street, he cut off suddenly across
the roadway, and, reaching the car tracks,
stood there for a moment in apparent doubt.
On both sides of the street were hundreds of
men. They stood up on their ends the same
as the boys did; they had white faces like
the boys; they all seemed just as much his
foes as did the boys, and if dogs can reason
at all, this dog had 'to reason that there was
not one man in all that crowd who would be
his protector. Perhaps the dog reasoned that
there was no way of escape; perhaps that,
try to run where he might, he would be
stoned and kicked; perhaps he didn’t reason
at all, but it appeared to scores of men on
the street that the pursued creature did hesi-
tate before doing what won from all who saw
it an ejaculation of pity. -
He had reached the car track. N 0 car was
coming, but just a few feet away a heavy
truck, drawn by a team of bay horses, was
rumbling along. The dog had halted at the
track and looked around at all the crowd that
seemed new allies of the band that had hec-
tored him so léng. He gave a glance at them,
and then, with all the slowness of human de-
liberation, he walked to the track and lay
down. The crowd could see that the feet of
the big horses must trample upon the dog’s
body, and that then the wheels would pass
over him. Any dog of ordinary sense would
have known the same thing, and this dog
seemed to know it. He lay down on the
track, with his head right over the rail. The
driver could not stop his team, and when the
horses reached the dog a shout went up from
those who saw the horses’ feet just graze the
dog’s neck. The heavy truck pushed the dog
off the track out of harm’s way. The dog was
safe.
THE WELCOME BULLET.
But safety didn’t seem to be what he u ant-
ed, and when he found that he was still alive
he jumped up and ran up in advance of the
wagon and again laid himself on the track.
This time he got hurt. The injury was not
sufficient to kill him, but it was so smart a
wound that it apparently took the idea of
suicide from the dog, and, with all that
strength that comes to men and brutes alike
When they are tortured by the agony of sud-
den shocks, the dog leaped from beneath the
wheels with a bowl of pain and dashed with
desperation at the crowd on the west side of
Broadway in front of the Manhattan cafe.
The crowd now thought that the dog was
dangerous. They parted before him, and
without swerving he made straight ahead.
He happened to be going straight toward the
door leading to the salcsroom of Maerlender
Brothers’ fur house. The Maerlenders occu-
py the upper part of the building at 589
Broadway and have their salesroom on the
first floor, above the Manhattan cafe. Up
the stairway the dog sprang.
The door to the salesroom was open, and he
ran in there, ran the length of the long room,
backto the little partitioned ofi? private office,
and darted in there. The bookkeeper and one
of the Maerlender brothers were in the pri-
vate ofiice and they were scared. They stood
close against the wall and let the dog rush
past them. He jumped out of the Window,
howling all the while. The window looks out
on the space between the Maerlender build-
ing and one behind it, and this space on the
ground floor is built up to alevel with the
windows of the Maerlender private office.
The roof covering this extension is of glass,
and out there the dog ran, panting and per-
spiring. He did not seem mad, but rather
exhausted. He crawled over to one side of
the roof, where a passageway connects the
two buildings. Here he hid himself aswell
as he could. _
Meanwhile, there was much fuss on Broad-
way. The street was blocked with people
who couldn’t see anything, but seemed bound
to stay until they could. Policeman Joseph
A. Surre was on duty there, and he couldn’t
get the crowd scattered for half an hour.
When he did succeed in getting them to go
away he went up stairs and looked at the
dog. He thought the dog would be better 033
dead than half alive with no known owner to
look after him and with the chances that
more boys would hector him if he got out on
the street again, so Surre shot the dog twice,
and so was ended the life of the persecuted
brute that had tried to commit suicide. His
body was taken to Prince street and left in
the gutter in front of Rogers, Feet 85 Co.’s
store. The boys waited around until they
saw it thrown there. —New York Sun.
Got Left Both Ways. >
A Stockton (031.) merchant, who recently
hadanemploye arrested for stealing from
him, complains that the law is a peculiar
thing. The prisoner paid a fine and was re-
leased. “He got into jail with my clothes
on,” said the trader, “and he got out with
my money. Where do I come inP—Ex-
c
A Rm mm.
TheRussiauax-myhuafiofomcerpe-
cuilertoitself. Each to hasamgo
mam. An advertisement ' ska-impu-
Chi?” competitor! £9? *1». .. lion “tees!-
"MMthstmemgiow '
ts ,, t
toabout £30 ayear andasubomcer'snm
menu—Chicago Times
I
ONE HOUR OF LAMB LIFE.
PITFALLS THAT LIE IN THE PATH
OF THE YOUNG MUTTON.
Has to Begin the Business of Life \Vhen
Five Minutes Old—Like Man He Often
Estimates Inaccurately, but the Shepherd
and the Dog Are There to Help Him.
About five minutes after the lamb is born
he is on his feet. The unsteady earth under
himnow heaves to the right, surges up and
then down, and it whirls and it twirls with
him while he staggers and struggles, and
twists one leg around the other like a vine
around a tree; or else he spreads those mem-
bers all out until they look like the forks
under a weather vane. He tumbles down
for the fiftieth time, and for the fiftieth time
renews the fight to secure that footing in the
great world from which only can he reach
the life giving milk. His mother—particu-
larly if it is her first—in her crazy anxiety to
help, knocks him down, steps on him, and
does—without leaving out a possible excep-
tion—everything she should not do, while
she leaves nearly everything undone that
might help the little fellow to get the desired
nourishment.
“Oh, the poor, dear little thing; isn’t it too
bad,” says the sympathetic stranger. “The
confounded pair of idiotsl” frets the im-
patient shepherd, who does not care to drive
them until the lamb finds milk and “gets
filled up "
, CHANGES ms MIND OFTEN.
In half an hour his milk can is full; his
sides bulge out with a surfeit of the pure
article warranted to stand the most rigid
zest for admixture of water. And as the
shepherd slowly urges the old ewe toward
home, the lamb goes reeling and rolling
along like an old tar just ashore from a
year’s voyage.
About the first error the lamb makes in life
is to mistake the shepherd or his dog for its
mother, and many are the maneuvers that
must be gone through with to make the new
arrival follow the right party. His next er~
nor is likely to be an attempt to walk on air
when he comes to a place where he should go
down hill. His ten minutes’ experience in
life has made him believe that all the earth
is a level plain, and in broad daylight he steps
off the top of a hill just as serenely as a man
steps off the top landing of the stairs in total
darkness when he is certain that the stairs
are yet twenty feet away. The result is a
great surprise to man and lamb in each in-
stance.
The lamb picks himself up, and continues
down the hill; he soon comes to the conclu-
sion that everything is down the hill in this
life, and not on a dead level. Upon getting
to the foot of the bill be still tries to continue
down ward, and as a result runs his nose into
the ground and looks surprised again. He
now comes to a place to get up hill, and goes
up just as our man starts to go up stairs in
total darkness when he thinks the stairs are
‘still twenty feet away.
Our lamb is now getting very suspicious.
He was pushed over and growled at for fol-
lowing the dog when he thought it was his
mother; the shepherd kicked and abused him
for following him; he tumbled down bill
when he saw nothing unusual in the looks of
the ground, and up hill again under similar
circumstances. In this frame of mind he
comes to a shadow cast by a neighboring hill.
This is the most appalling thing he has yet
seen in life. He stands in the bright sunshine;
twelve inches ahead of him all the world is
black. How shall he get over that terrible
line? It must be worse than going down hill
or u" hill, or running after a. dog that growls
or a man that kicks. It surely looks much
more frightful than any of these things. His
mother is in the shadow, and coaxes him to
come. along, but he will not risk it—he stands
on the edgeand bawls at the top of his pow~
ers. The shepherd with his big foot comes to
the rescue, and our poor lamb is lifted from
sunlight to shadow on the end of a number
nine boot. .
lie trots along after his mother for a few
yards and meets a. new difficulty. This time
it is from shadow to sunlight. It looks tough;
the situations seems to present no end of diifi~
culties. He walks across the line with fear
and trembling, only to find it very simple and
easy, and concludes that things are not so bad
as they look. He has already begun to find
out that things which seem easy in life lead ,
often to disaster, and forbidding things often
present no real danger.
THERE’S NOTHING FUNNIER. .
At this time he is about one hour old; for
a whole hour he has been running his respira-
tive, circulative and locomotive powers as an
independent being, and has become quite a
lamb. Just at that instant a carriage drives
rapidly along the road. His quick eye sees it;
he thinks perhaps it is his mother, and that
she is running from danger. He strikes out
after it. It is wonderful what an hour has
done for him in the way of development; he
runs faster than the shepherd, faster than his
mother, and is in imminent danger of getting
under the horses’ feet or the wheels of the
carriage.
It is here that the dog comes in play, if he
understands his business. He runs up along-
side of the lamb, pushes it over with his nose,
jumps upon it and holds it down upon the
ground with his nose until the shepherd comes
up. The shepherd takes the lamb and stands
it upon its feet so that it can see its mother,
who has come to within a few feet. He holds
it until it sees its mother on a move and then
lets it go. The old ewe licks off the face of a
sadder and wiser lamb-lets him have another
dose of liquid nourishment, and together they
get home.
There is-only one thing that is 500. times as
funny and provoking by turns as a lamb, and
that is 500 lambs together when they are
about a month old. The shepherd sits down
and watches the 500 lambs all in a bunch by
themselves, playing, running and frolicking,
and he laughs. When he has tried, and tried
in vain, to get the same 500 across a bridge
or into a corral he sits down again, but he
does not laugh this time.
A young lamb has no way of telling which
ewe is its mother and the mother only knows
which lamb is her own by the scent. Hence,
while very young it is a bad plan to have too
many together, for the ewe may be cc
by so many lambs, or become partially indif-
ferent, and the lamb perish for want of care.
When a few weeks old, however, they know
,each other by the sound of the voice. In a
band of 2,000 or 3,000 ewes, a ewe may call
her lamb, and the lamb will answer from the
other side of the flock. They will go as
straight to each other, right through the
whole band, as they would if they were the
only two animals for a mile around—Mon-
tana Wool Grower.
No Show for the Murderer.
A man who had committcdadreadful mur-
dcrfled’and was pursued by the oflicers of
the-law and the relatives of the murdered»
victim. On- reaching ariver he saw a lion
on the bank. and beinzdreadfully afraid
clinibod a tree for safety. He, however, dis-
covered aserpcnt on the upper branches of
[the tree, and being greatly alarmed, threw
hin‘ilclfinto momentum he was coined
and devoured by an alligator. Thus the air,
theearth. andthc water alikerefuccdtoshclr
hr. mrh-sI-p-Tanl Slim
_ ATTRACTIVE FRAME RESIDENCE. ",
Its Cost Is Moderate and It. Arrangement
Convenient.
The following plans are taken from The
National Building Plan association’s book,
Artistic Homes, published at Detroit. The
inemoranda accompanying them are as fol-
ows:
. "illnihii‘nj l
risi‘E;_-~ ,j a! “hitch
. . - minimum, , ngwmn ,4:
k3 E‘s-c.9413
' . _ v, 4 1
var-mien €312.21; ate—:51?“-
VIEW.
One and a Half Story Frame Residence—
Post foundaiion. Height of stories in the
clear—First, 10 feet; second, 9 feet. Cellar,
6feet (finches. First story contains parlor
(with fireplace), 13 feet 6 inches x 14; dining
Pen l'wg .
Kitchen. ‘ .
Dmmg
Room.
I.“
P371070
Hut,
Hillza.
.y.
GROUND FLOOR.
room, 13 feet 6 inches x 16; kitchen, 10x12;
pantry, 5x8; china closet, 4x5; front hall,
10x12; back hall, 4x6; front and back stairs.‘
Second story contains chamber, 12x14; cham-
ber, 13x16; chamber 9x12- closet to each.
cage
'Chnmbev.
Chamber.
.Bath
'I’
Room.
Chambe'r.
SECOND STORY.
Bathroom, 5x8. First story, clapboards;
second story, shingles. Estimated cost of
building, $1,800
,. my}- IT“ 1‘“ ‘--
ark-m: - - -
//;;,;I
a
,r
‘\
The accompanying cut, from a design by
J. P. McHugh in The Decorator and Fur-
nisher, shows a corner in a library, which,
while not remarkable in arrangement, at the
same time presents a pleasing and homelike
picture. Nothing can be more depressing
than the sight of bare walls and empty cor-
ners. It is a very easy task to place a cabi-
net in the position as seen in the cut, and it
adds wonderfully to the appearance of the
room. The judicious placing of a few rugs,
portieres, easy chairs and pictures, and voila!
the room is finished.
A Dutch Renaissance Chimney Piece. "
@
The accompanying cut is a dedgn for a
Dutch renaissgnc‘e chimney piece, and is
WMMEmrbeckfs “The Renais-
suiccin 39181!de Holland! Itisoheof
thwartist‘lctrca tions' thatwclnvelate-
lyseen.
Ontbe othersldocveryornamcnt usually
madein ethos-stones ignowceeningu‘neh:
brooches, pins, bracelets, combs,
fill]! and necklaces, and inadditiomvery'
prettypictmtrame‘sinvariomm
‘\\
\
\
\\\\\‘
MT.
A HORSE WHO CAN TALK!
Everybody has heard of a “horse laugh,”
but who has ever seen an equine gifted with
the power of speech? Such an animal would
be pronounced a miracle; but so would the
telegraph and the telephone a hundred years
ago. thy, even very recently a cure for con-
sumption, which is universally acknowledged
to be scroi'ulu aifccting the lungs. would have
been looked upon as miraculous. but now peo—
ple are beginning to realize that the disease
asnot incurable. Dr. Picrcc’s Golden Medical.
Discovery. will cure it, if taken in time and
given a fair trial. This world-renowned rem-
edy Will not make new lungs. but it will re-
storc diseased ones to a healthy state when
other means have failed. Thousands grate-
fully tcstify to this. It is the most potent
tonic. or strength restorcr, alterativc, or
blood-cleanser and nutritive. or flesh-builder,
known to medical science. For \Vcak Lungs,
Spitting of Blood, Bronchitis, Asthma, Ca-
tarrh in the Head. and all Lingering Coughs,
it is an unequaled remedy. In derau cmcnts
of the stomach. liver and bowels, as ndiges-
tion, or Dys epsia, Ililiousness, or “Liver
Complaint.” hronic Diarrhea, and kindred
ailments, it is a sovereign remedy.
' ‘ ' " ‘ ‘, “Golden Medical Dis-
EUAHANTEED - covery” is. the only mod-
. icinc of its class. sold
.. .-—. , .~ by druggists, under a
printed guarantee, from the manufact~
urcrs. that it Will benefit or cure in every case
of disease for which it is recommended. or
money paid for it will be promptly refunded.
Copyright, 1388, by \VORLD’S DIS. MED. ASS’N.
$5®Q OFFERED
by the manufactur-
ers of Dr. Sage's Catarrh Remedy, for an
incurable case of Catarrh in the Head.
CATATlRH ELY"
ELY’S Bream Balm
CURES
HAY
FEVER
AND
HAY-EEVER cold in Head.
Aparticlcis_applied into each nostril and is
agreeable. Price 50 cents at Drnggists ; by mail,
registered. 60 cts. ELY BROTHERS, _56 Warren
Street, New York. 1y44
A SLEEPERS EYE WIDE UPEN
FOR BUSINESS.
SLEEPER’S
EYE CIGARS
Are all stamped to
prevent immitation
Insist o 11 having
" Sleeper’s E y e "
and take no other
100. all dealers.
WW '
Trade-Mark.
s. s. SLEEPER & 00.. ,
y (A LDs
f Ulsil
' URN)‘
ul5.
lkese Thing); $319:
is nolhlng equal to
Prmvm Vls‘
Bil/mum
which is kept b euer
drugg ist in Welland.”
Factory, Boston.
For Sale at a Sacrifice.
Will be sold ifapplicd for soon,
TEN ROOM COTTAGE.
within five minutes walk of the
bridge, with never failing well of
excellent water, and a cistern
holding three hundred hogs-
heads, for laundry purposes
all modern improvements
conveniences, etc. Cost
owner $8,000, and
will be sold for
$5,000 with only
81,500 down,
to satisfac-
tory party.
1m33 Enquireat 6mm: Oman.
Norwalk Chronicler