A ROSE. Beyond the single rose he sought She piled the offering hi h or lily, pink and jessamin , And larkspurs Of the sky. Until the gift, full antidote, For all his grief and strife, Led him to bless,’ with that she gave, Another troubled life, And words for this bestowment said Were finer fragrance far Than concentrated odors breathed From all the lilies arel Ah, lady, acts like thine shall bloom In choicest beauty, where ri‘he sweetness from the heavenly plains Perfumes the sentient air. ——Springfield Republican. N ANCY’S LOVER. “Nancy!” said Mr. Moppet. “Sir?” responded Nancy. Mr. Moppet was coming in from the garden 5 path. Nancy, with plump white arms bared to the elbow, was washing the breakfast dishes in a deep pan of hot soapsuds. ' Mr. Moppet was a hard featured elderly man, with whitish blue eyes, a straggly fringe of white beard beneath his square chin, and a bald cranium. Nancy was fresh colored and bright eyed, with silky tendrils of auburn hair drooping Over her freckled forehead and a certain dimple perpetually playing at hide and seek on her left check. The two com pletely realized Shakespeare’s ideal of "Crabbed Age and Youth.” “I’m a—goin’ to town,” said Mr. Moppet. “You won’t need to bile no pot victuals for dinner. “Taste makes want. A cup 0’ tea and a biled egg and what’s left 0’ yesterday’s pork and greens—that’ll be all you’ll need." “Yes, father,” acquiesced Nancy. She was thinking of something else all the while. “And, talkin’ ’bout eggs,” added Mr. Mop- pet, “you may take four dozen up to Peach farm. Mrs. Wixon wants plenty on ’em to make cake for her nieee’s party. Better go early this morning.” Nancy colored scarlet under the auburn 1 ings of hair. “Can’t I send ’em up by little Bill Becker, father?” said she. “Webster Wixon will be lshore, and—and I don’t like.Webster Wixon, with his red nose and his compliments.” Mr. Moppet frowned. . “Nancy,” said he, “don’t be a fool. I can see through ye, like ye was a pane 0’ glass. Webster Wixon is awell to do man, with money out at interest, and you’d oughter be tickled to death that he’s took a notion to you." “But, father”——-— “Not another word,” grumbled Mr. Mop- pet. “I know jest exactly what’s comin’. It’s that foolish nonsense about Absalom Parker, that I hOped you’d got overlong ago. Absalom hain’t no property, and ain’t like to have none, and no daughter 0’ mine ain’t goin’ to marry your Grandfather Atkins’ hired man, not if I know it.” - He paused with this multiplicity of double negatives. Nancy set her small, pearl white teeth together; her eyes flashed with hazel fire. It was a clear case of true love versus money. ‘ “Take them eggs straight up to Peach farm,” reiterated Mr. Moppet, shaking his forefinger at Nancy, “an‘ don’t argufy the p’int no further. I’m yo...- =fatber. and I know what’s best for you!” “But you’re going right past the W'ixons’ door.” ' , “No, lain’t, neither. I’m goin’ the Horn Hill road. I’ve been app’inted by the supply committee to buy an air tight wood stove for the church,” he added, with some compla- cency. “The old ones rusted clear out, so there’s danger 0’ fire every time it’s used, and the brethren have subscribed twenty dollars for a new one—leastways, a second hand one, if it’s jest as good and a trifle cheaper. I’m to use my own judgment about that.” And he went out to the barn to “harness up," leaving Nancy ready to cry. “But,” she said to herself, as she flung the dish water out at the back door, “I wouldn’t marry Webster IVixon if there wasn’t an- other man in the world. And if I can’t have Absalom, I’ll live an die an old maid. 011, dear! oh, dearl why need there be so much trouble in the world?” And more than one diamond bright tear drop fell among the eggs that she packed into the flat splint basket for Mrs. Wixon’s nicce‘s party. \Vebster li’ixon, a fat, middle aged bache— lor, was out helping to gather the October apples on the north side of the house when Nancy came up. He made haste to welcome her. "Good mornin’. Miss Nancy,” said he. bloomin’ as ever, I see." “Here’s your eggs,” spoke Nancy, curtly. “Set down a spell, won’t ye?” simpered Mr. ~Wixon. “I’m in a hurry,” said Nancy. “But, Nancy” “My name is Miss Moppet, sir!” “I’ve got something very particular to say to you, Nancy,” urged the middle aged suitor. “It’ll have tokecp,” said Nancy. “I’ve got to get right home.” “Can’t I walk with you a piece?” “I‘d rather go alone,” she persisted. “Nancy—Miss Moppet—I must Speak!” blurted out the old bachelor. “I love you better‘n all the world! I want to make you Mrs. l‘fcbstcr 1Wixou! There, that‘s what I had on my mind! minded father, he says it would suit 11in: exactly, and”—— Nancy wheeled around and faced her eager swain. “Is it me or father you’re a-courting?” said she. “Vihy you, of course!” “Then take my answer—no I” And without waiting for the return of her basket she hurried away, her cheeks blazing, her breath coming quick and fast. “Father’ll be awful mad," she thought, “but I‘d sooner die than marry that man!” “'ebster IVixon stood a minute gazing after her in crestfallen silence; then he went back to apple harvesting with an ominous coni- pressicn of his lips. ‘ “The madder she gets the prettier she looks,” thought he. “IVell, well, time will show. Brother Moppet says she shall be my wide, and that ought to count for consider- able.” Mr. Moppet drove leisurely on to Horn Hill, drove an excellent bargain for a highly ornamental wood sto after having succes- sively interviewed ev ' hardware dealer in town, and set forth to return with it in his wagon just at dusk. “It’s a warm day for the time 0’ year,” said he, “and it’s easier traveling for the horse arter dark. It ain’t a bad day’s work, come to think on ’t. I beat Brother Piper down pretty well on the price, and it’s Worth a. dollar’u a half to cart the thing home over these bumpy roads. They ’lowed twenty dol- lars for it, and I got it for fifteen. Takin’ my time and trouble and wheel wear and horseflesh into consideration, I guess I won’t say nothin’ about the odd five dollars. Busi- ness is business. It’s a proper, pretty pat- tern, too—thistle leaves and acorns. I’d like one the same fashion in my best room, and” —with a. long whistle—‘ ‘why shouldn’t I have it? There’s that second handed stove Gran- ‘ther Atkins took for a debt from Solon “sz And yet r good, Christian 5 NORWALK GAZETTE, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 25 1889. ; Grubb. It’s jest standin’ rustin’ away in his ; back wood shed. I’ll fetch it home to-morrow i and black it up, and let Elder Meachan sup- i pose I got a bargain from somebody; and I’ll l have the nice new stove for myself and no- ! body’ll be none the wiser, now that ran’ther ! Atkins is confined to his bed with creepin’ i paralysis and Absalom Parker’s up in the wood lots, choppin’ down trees for winter firewood. It’s a good idee. I’m glad I hap- pened to think of it.” He drew rein opposite the Atkins house. All was dark and quiet there save the one red light that burned in old Mr. Atkins’ bed- room. At that identical moment, had he but i known it, Absalom Parker—the old man’s . general factotum—was hanging over the gar- i den gate of his own place, talking to pretty , Nancy among the purple dahlias and quilled asters. And it‘was no difficult task for a man of John Moppet’s physical strength skillfully to lift the old stove out of its place in the outer shed into his wagon. “Git up, Prince!” he muttered to his horse, shaking the reins, and away they went. Elder Meachan was not quite satisfied with the bargain. The church brethren, too, would have preferred a new stove, consider- ing the money they had spent; but Brother Moppet was a man in authority, and they were compelled to acquiesce in his choice. Nancy was delighted with the new acqui- sition for the best room. “Oh, isn’t it pretty?” said she. “Yes,” nodded Mr. Moppet, rubbing his hands, “it’ll sort 0’ dress up the room for your . weddin’.” “My wedding?” “Jest so. I’ve arranged matters with “'eb- ster Wixon, and”— Nancy burst into tears, and ran out of the room. Mr. Moppet glared balefully after her. “She shall marry him!” muttered he, “or she shall be no darter o’ mine! I won’t be set at defiance by —. Why, helloa, Absalom Parker, what brings you here?” “Mr. Atkins is took wuss this arternoon,” said Absalom, standing at the doorway, like a rustic Apollo. “Wants to see ye—right off!” It was a Saturday afternoon. As Mr. Mop~ pet drove by the church door he saw the load of wood being delivered for the first fire of the season. “Jest in time!” said he to himself. “There’s a frosty feel in the air.” Grandfather Atkins lay among his pillows, like a wrinkled old ghost. “John,” said be, “all I’ve got in the world is yours, but I think I’d ought to tell you where I’ve hid it, sense the bank robbery give me such a scare. ” “Certainly, certainly!” said his cousin-law, with eager eyes, like those of a bird of prey. “I’ve hid it away"— J ohu Moppet placed his ear close to fine pai- lid lips. "Six five-hundred-dollar bills”— “Yes, yes—go on!” “Folded up in an old number of The Horn Hill Gazette”— “An old number of The Horn Hill Gazette —I understand 1” repeated Moppet. “In the old stove out in the shed!” gasped the old man. “I knowed nobody wouldn't be likely to look there! It’s yours, John Mop- pet—every cent of it. And mind you, don’t spend it in no extravagance!” So speaking, the old miser closed his dim eyes and went where there is neither money nor counting of money. John Moppet uttered an exceedingly bitter cry as he remembered the lighted match he had put to the crumpled old papers in the stove, to make sure of a draught, when it was put up in the northwest corner of the church—the roar of the blaze through the lengths of Russia iron pipe. In his excellent management he had contrived to overreach himself. He went home and sat all the evening in a sort of stupor, with his head in his hands. Nancy, busied about her household tasks, watched him with hazel eyes of surprise. “I didn’t know he thought so much of Gran’ther Atkins,” pondered she. “Six times five is thirty—six times five is thirty,” mused Mr. Moppet, rocking to and fro. “Six five-hundred-dollar bills! Three -—thousand——dollars-and all gone up chimbly in one breath 0’ wind, and me as done itl I shall go crazy. I shall lose my mind. Three —thou—sand——dollars! It’s a judgment on me. I’ve been a mis’able sinner, and cheated the church. I’ve tampered with my own conscience. Six times five is thirty] Six five—hundred-dollar bills! Oh, Lord, there ain’t no calculatin’ what a mis’able sinner I’ve been 2” As the old kitchen clock struck 9, Absalom Parker came in, bringing with him a gust of fresh, frosty wind. “Evenin’, squire,” said be. “I’m sort 0’ looking up the watchers. S’pose’ you’d like to be one of ’em? But I’d like to speak a word to you first.” “If it’s about Nancy, it ain’t no use,” said Mr. Moppet, rousing himself to the affairs of the world with some petulancc. “It ain’t about Nancy,”Absalom answered, with a smile. “It’s about Mr. Atkins’ money.” Mr. Moppet gave a start. “Oh, you needn’t jump 50,” reassured Ab- salom. “It’s all safe.” He took a flat parcel out of his pocket. “Count ’cm,” said he. “Six, ain’t there?” Mr. Moppet stared at Absalom Parker as Aladdin might have stared -at the Genii. “How—where”—he muttered. Absalom gave a low chuckle. “Hush!” said be. “Don’t speak loud. I seen the old man hide ’cm there, like a human magpie as be was. Iknowed it wasn’t safe, so I quietly took ’em out, artcr he’d had that last stroke, and locked ’cm in his black leather trunk up garret. And you may thank me that they wasn’t all burned up in the first fire you lighted in that identical stove!” Mr. Moppet turned a purplish red. “You know about that stove?” said he, with a gasp. “It wasn't likely no such conjuring could go on about Mr. Atkins’ place, and me not know it,” said Parker, dryly. “The stove wasn’t of no great consequence, though, ex— cept for old iron. I guess the church folks ’11 get sick of it before a great while.” Mr. Mopmt drew a long breath. “When they do,” said he, “I’ll make ’em a present of a. brand new one. And, Absa- lom” . “Yes, Mr. MOppet?” “You won’t say nothin’ to nobody?” “No,” said Absalom, “I ain’t one o’ the talkin’ sort.” “And, Absalom”— “Yes, Mr. Moppet?” “Since you and Nancy really are attached to each other”— “1Ve’re just that, Mr. Moppet.” “I don’t see no obje ion to your gettin’ married this fall,” said ppet, with an ef- fort. “You may tell Nancy that she has my consent!” ' Nancy cried a showor of happy tears when Absalom told her the good news. But he never imparted to her the story of the stove. As he himself had remarked, “he was. not one of the talkiu’ cert.”-Helen For- est Graves in Saturday Night. ' ———————‘—-——-— Little Brother (bedtime) —Why don’t you take your stockings ofii‘ Little Sister (whose mother buys the cheap black kind)—I’s dot all of ’em oil! ’at will chine oil—New York Weekly. AN OLD FASHIONED APPLE BEE. The Jolly Good Times the Young Folks Used to Have \Vhen Autumn Game. The march of improvement has swept out of existence many an old time institution, and the boys and girls of today, who play croquet and lawn tennis, in ravishing cos- tumes of stripes and checks, would doubtless turn up their noses at the mention of the ap- ple bees, and the huskings, and the raisings, which were such a source of enjoyment to their fathers and mothers. Once it used to be considered necessary for every family to lay in yearly a stock of dried apples for the construction of a. commodity, formerly supposed to be edible, and which went by the name of dried apple pie. It was a highly respectable production, and though it was often swallowed with a. wry face, like a purgative pill, no table was ever complete without it, and it was always a reserve force upon which the sorely pressed housekeeper could fall back when a case of emergency arose. Canned apples and evaporated apples have superseded it, and its familiar tan colored countenance is seen no more: but its memory remains to cheer us. In the early fall of the year every house keeper commenced to dry apples. The first wind falls of the season were utilized; the wormy and knotty places cut out with care, and halved, and quartered, and cored, they were strung on a string, about two yards long, and their festoons decorated the sunny side of the farm house until the frost came. And the wasps and flies took their late vaca- tion seasons in buzzing over the festoons aforesaid, and sucking up such juices as the sun had left in the remains of the fruit. In large families, where an extra supply of pie making substance was needed, it was the custom every fall to have “apple bees,” or “apple parings,” as they are sometimes called. A fine evening in September or October was selected, and all the young people in the neighborhood were invited to be present. Care was exercised not to pass over any one in giving the invitations, for it Was a terrible “slight” to be left out of a merry making of that kind. The big kitchen was the place of operation. All the tubs and baskets in the house were filled with apples yellow, and apples red, and the young men who owned paring machines were out in force, each one anxiols to outdo the other, and thus gain favor in the eyes of the admiring young girls who did the coring and the stringing. . What a merry company it was! How the laugh and joke and song rang out, and the machines whizzed oi the curly parings and sent them spinning over the big table, and the girls threw them over their shoulders, and looked blushingly back to see if they had assumed the form of the first letter of the name of their favorite young man. And when the tubs and baskets had been emptied, and the strings of apples hung from the frames, all ready to be given to the fin- ishing process of the sun and wind, in the evening, everything was cleared away, and the table was spread with a feast fit for a king, and the hostess dealt out the baked beans and Indian pudding with a lavish hand, and each young man waited on his best girl, and paid her compliments while he passed the doughnuts, and looked love into her eyes while he held the slippery pumpkin pie plate for her to divide the piece for them both, and when he saw the blush on her cheek, and felt the touch of her soft fingers on his hand as she passed him the pie, he- couldn’t tell whether he was eating nectar or sole leather—and. what was more, he didn’t care. And when the supper was over, and the old time games of blind man’s buff, and Co- penhagen, and hunt the slipper, were in full blast, how the winged hours flew by, and no- body noticed that it was long past midnight before the gay revelers separated, and took their way homeward by the light of the moon. Matches were made at apple bees, hearts were lost, and hearts were found; barrels of dried apples were given to the world, and busy homo wives surveyed with pride the re- sults of the evening’s labors, as displayed next morning on the frames hung up in every available place where the sun would be likely to fall. ' And when winter came and the fruits of the summer Were all gone, and the custard and the mince pie had palled on their taste, the dried apple came manfully to the front, and having been stewed, and sweetened, and spiced, and put between the layers of crust, it was baked; and if a. man had good cour- age, and good teeth, and faith in an overrulo ing Providence, which was bound to see him safely through under any circumstances, he might manage to worry down a piece of that pie. andstill livel—Kate Thorn in New York \Veekl y. Told by Finger Nails. Fortune telling by means of the finger nails—onychomancy, as it. was called—was not uncommon in ancient times. The prac- tice was to rub the nails with oil and soot or wax, and to hold up the nails, thus prepared, against the sun, and upon the transparent horny substance were supposed to appear figures or characters which gave the answer required. In more recent times people have been found predicting by means of the nails of the hand, and telling the disposition of persons with certain descriptions of nails. However absurd it may appear,we shall give examples '. . . him it was wrong. ' Stewart that it was the proper way to dis- of this superstition. A person with broad nails is of gentle nat- urc, timid and bashful. Those whose nails grow into the flesh at the points or sides are given to luxury. A white mark on the nail bespeaks misfortune. Persons with very pale nails are subject to much infirmity of the flesh and persecution by neighbors and friends. People with narrow nails are ambi- tions and quarrelsome, Lovers of knowledge and liberal sentiment have round nails. Indolent people have gen- erally fleshy nails. Small nails indicate little— ness of mind, obstinacy and conceit. Melan- choly persons are distinguished by their pale or lead colored nails, and choleric, martial men, delighting in war, have red and spotted nails—Medical Classics. Benjamin Franklin’s ”lot. You desire to know someihmg of my re- ligion. It is the first time I have been ques- tioned upon it. But I is take your curi- osity amiss, and shall on vor in a few words to gratify it. lieve in one God, the creator of the universe. That he governs it by his providence. That he ought to be worshiped. That, the most acceptable service we render to him is doing good to his other children. That the soul of man is immortal and will be treabd with justice inanother world respecting its con- duct in this. As to Jesus of Nazareth, my opinion of whom you particularly desire, I think his system of morals and his religion as he left them to us the best the world ever saw or is likely to see; but I apprehend it has re- ceived various corrupting changes, and I have some doubts as to his divinity; though it is a. qipstion I do not dogmatize upon, having never studied it. I seeno harm, however, inits being behaved, if that belief has the good consequences, as probably it has, of making his doctrines more respected and mere ob- served—The Complete Works of Benjamin Franklin-John Bigelow. ‘ Here tuny creed. I be- _ LW'TRICKS OF THE TRADV. How THE SHARP CLERK BEGUILES THE INNOCENT PURCHASER. Stratagems \Vhich Are Usually Successful. Buyers Are Only Human—Clerks Know It—Tho Shrewd Business Man Treats His Customers as Intelligent Beings. “There are tricks in all trades but ours,” is one of the aphorisms of the business world. It reminds the speculative observer of the old woman who seriously remarked: “The world isfull of queer folks. I’m glad I’m not one ,of ’em.” , The candid clerk would never be able to starve to death respectably. He would be discharged before he had told the truth twice. Imagine him saying to a customer: “Here is a piece of goods that is so course you can shoot peas through it, and all cotton at that, although it is marked half wool. It will fade at the first wearing. How many yards shall I cut you off?” He would himself be cut off from his busi— ness prospects and without the customary shilling. A youth of this sort was engaged as assist- ant in a grocery store. He prided himself on his honesty and candor. IVhen he saw his employer sell a pound of prunes he said in the presence of the customer: “You must be glad to sell another pound of those wormy old prunes. They’ll soon be all gone.” The next moment he was out of a situation. The shrewd business man leaves something to the intelligence of his customers. As long as a thing is not misrepresented let them find out defects for themselves. But the day of sanding the sugar and wetting down the to- bacco is over. There is an inveiglement of another kind now. Chromo cards and gifts have had their day, but there is the quarter of! and the half off sale. REMEMBERING CUSTOMERS’ TASTES. Can any one outside of the business tell how the accomplished clerk holds up a piece of dress goods in the little pyramid on the counter where the light strikes it so as to bring out in bold relief all its best colors and make it look as if it were the loveliest fabric in the store? One clerk will say, with his head over on the side like a little bird: “It looks like you, Miss —. It’s a fact; I thought of you as soon as I saw it. Isald to myself Miss — will want a dress of! that piece." Another will remark incidentally under the same circumstances: "Your friend, Mrs. 001. —, haught a. dress from that piece." The customer hesitates-and is lost. In other words, she buys the goods, being help- lessl ensbimmered in the science of delusion by 039 clerks who know their business. A 10:1th into a drygoods store and fished to see some good- dlsplayed in the win- ow. ‘ “You don’t want that style of goods,” said the clerk, who knew his customer; “you wouldn‘t wear it.” Then he took down dross after dram from his reserve stock, and as he did so remarked casually: ‘ "You Wildn’t wear a window dress. This, now, has not been shown before.” Of course the customer was flattered into buying a dress, and the clerk was right. He knew that the goods removed from the illu- sion of plate glass would not please her. A clerk soon learns that a lady is never offended when her tastes are remembered and alluded to with graceful tact. The best salesmen of today do not persist as much as their predecessors did. They make their goods speak for themselves. A Detroit merchant relates a story of a clerk of long ago who tried so hard to sell a dress to a cus- tomer that he followed the lady to the door with the goods. Then he began to unroll it and the customer took hold of an end of the cloth to prevent it falling on the floor, so it went. He unrolled the goods until she held a dress pattern in her arms and she felt com- pelled to take it. KNEW SHE WOULD NEED 11'. Another clerk was approached by a lady who wanted white silk mitts. , He did not have any, but he jumped over the counter and followed her to the door to tell her he had a new bolt of brown linen sheeting in and a recipe for bleaching it white. This was in the good old days when Detroit was a vil- lage and everybody knew everybody else’s business. The enterprising clerk knew that his customer for white silk mitts was about to be married and go to housekeeping and would need house linen. This gauging of people’s needs and reconciling them with their purses is quite an enterprising feature of business at all times. It is a fact that the dry goods store is the principal attraction of the business street and a fertile spot in the desert of commerce. It has color, variety and an attraction that no other place can possibly have. The common- est piece of red and yellow stufi.’ will look rich and elegant in those long, graceful folds that have such precision of detail, yet look so careless and artistic in the total effect. The man who did that gauges his usefulness by those folds. It is related of the late A. T. Stewart, the millionaire merchant, that in passing through the side of his great store in which the goods were exposed for sale—that opposite to the Broadway side—he saw a piece of velvet stacked to catch the eye. He in- quired who had arranged it in that way, sent for the man, who was a new band, and told The man answered Mr. play that class of goods. Mr. Stewart said no more, but he watched and saw the velvets managed in this way for some months. Then he sent for the man and promoted him to the velvet department of the wholesale store. “.I saw that you knew more about velvets than I did myself,” was the only explanation he gave. The best clerk is the reader of hu- man nature. He coerces one into buying and intimidates another. The merchants have a proverb that any salesman can sell a custo- mer the goods that she came to purchase, but he is a. good salesman who sells her what she does not want. Every clerk has his particu. lar friends who like to trade with him be- cause he is obliglng or courteous or enter- taining. It is his trick of trade to be all these to his customqr—Detroit Free Press Houses in the Country. Your true countryman is seldom a “tem- perance man” in the matter of sunlight and shade. He is eit ,“teetotaler” or acou- firmed tippler. ’ seisexposed, in t 'one case, to all the fervor of the summ sun (and all the fury of the summer thunder- storm), or, in the other, it is hedged about and arched over by a plantation of trees so dense as to exclude even the vertical rays of the noonday sun. Of the two extremes I prefer the former. The mercilessly exposed walls appeal loss agreeably to the eye, but the better please the sense of what is right on wrong from a hygienic point of view. Nothing is less picturesque than a house in the country without a tree beside it, but nothing is less healthful than one that cannot be seen for the density of the grove that sur- rounds it. But there is a happy medium be- tween the wall that is warped by the direct 'ray’s 6f the slimmer sun and one that presents ‘a. mildeWed face to the level beams of sunset, rand it is the happy medium of temperance fthat one should try to strike in this as. in “other matters-Tho Critic. arable. ""A TAZEWELL, VA., HoME.’"W Plans and View of 3 Pretty House Cost- ing About 32,000. From American Architecture, an ex cellent book for intending home makers, by Palliser, Palliser 8: Co., and published by J. S. Ogilvie, New York, are taken the follow- ing plans and view of the residence of Mr. R. R. Henry, of Tazewell, Va. The letter press accompanying the plans is as follows: ~W2\ _., - «AIMEEE .7)“, ._ 1"} \ . . Ila—Hal}; 3: I '-|' >' '-Z!_l. Eatis‘..;m m..- 15:1;13; ~ '~ finer“ “A a; .\\< my}: in ’ I 3., -.‘ t “.73.. ‘ v!- ' ~. VIEW. This cottage is of a form that is compact and in every way available; the rooms are large, have high ceilings and at the same time afford every convenience in their ar- rangement, making them desirable for a. family of refined tastes and moderate means. It is built of wood, though in favorable lo- calities it would be better still of stonejor brick, and, if suitably surrounded with taste- ful landscape embellishments, will make a snug, pretty and attractive home. One can, by the exercise of appropriate taste, produce the right kind of impression in a house of this character. It. should become a part of and belong to the acres which surround it; it should be an indispensable accessory to the place itself, and the grounds should belaid collar, um. I out and embellishedin such a manner that the whole combination impresses one with harmonious beauty and not, as is too often the case, seek to make up for the deficiencies in the grounds by elaborate expenditure and display about the house. A true appreciation of a country or subur- ban home will not tolerate slovenly, ill kept grounds, and no house exhibits its true value unless there is a harmonyin its surroundings. If this be attended to, a high degree of eflect can be produced in houses of very moderate cost; houses that should be roomy, warm, substanthl and in every way agreeable to their occupants. Veranda. I-l . ,7 r sauna... . In -— D, Diniu‘gaflqom :storx ’i‘f-‘o’ Chamber. 14,20"): who" a. GROUND FLOOR. The glass throughout is common sheet with- out color, but the dividing up of the upper sashes gives character to the whole; the plain treatment of the exterior is more than made up by the beauty of the internal arrange- ments, which the plans fully explain. Roof. , Chamber. Chamber. MT-tfx 15:0" 15 '—o’5x‘15.3‘-2'f. IEEE' Sevvanl't v ,, ”’55 g: l A ‘f Chan: be r. I6'-O'X I6'—0': Roof. SECOND STORY. This house is substantially built and con- tains the modern conveniences; there is no water closet, but an earth closet is provided in connection with bath room. which is pref- Cost about $1,900. Simple Yet Elegant. From Building We take the accompanying figw of a simple yet elegant and artistic hall “is in the residence of Dr. W. M. Fellows. .Kmrumi'v-w fl ~ _ Am I mum mums I of vex-hill, Mass, and the drawing was ed by Perkins 6 Bancroft. , “WHAT IVIEDICINES ABE M051“! CALLED FOR ’3” asked the reporter of an old druggist. “ Dr. Piercc's preparations,” he replied. They are sold under a positive guar- antee that they will. in every case. give satisfaction, or the money is promptly re- funded. His ‘Favorite Prescription. for all those chronic weaknesses. nervous and other deran emcnts peculiar to women. is used with union ng success. It cures weak back, bear- ing-down sensations, irregularities and weak- nesses common to the sex. and bein the most perfect of tonic medicines buil up Eifngtggpgghigns thtilfntireds m. The de- ' 1 cons an ' ersan wifilétscores ogfctgses cfii‘ed by it? conv t urmng r a ow mome ' the venerable wielder of the magmfiggg' the npmber of sarsupurfllas and other so: called” blood medicines' in legion: but' Dr Pierce 5 Golden Medical Disco ' them all and it is the o blood-purifier out of the many which I am 0 liged to keep u n my shelves. that is guaranteed to benefl or cure in all cases for which it is recommended crumoney paid for it is refunded.” ’ In the hue of P' ,” remarked the old n- tleman, “ the little Sugar-coated ‘Pe ets’ $11113) Liptbé EgiePiergeflllead all others. both in _ s an 8 one acti they give my customers}? ml satisf on Copyright, 1888, by Wonnn's Dis. MED. Ans’x. $500 llFFEllEll ,5 g. _, ~ for an incurable case of - 3 _ -' .-‘ turrh in the Head byfibe proprietors of Dr. Sage's Catarrh Remed . By to mild, soothing and healing propert es, it cures the worst cases. no matter of how long ding. By druggists. 50 cents. . .. mm in 1mm. FOR BUSINESS. Smokers who know our cigar need only t be told that SLEEPEII'S EYE will in every respect equal the past high quality of our goods. 10¢. each, 3 for no. everywhere. ' Trade-Mark. S. S. SLEEPER ‘5 C0» FOR SALE! Dougle Wagons, Single Wagons, Road Carts. Horse Carts, Factory, Boston. GoaL Wood, Grain. Flour, Hay, ' Straw —-—.A.ND—- Building Material. Etc. Etc. ll! South Norwalk. 1 5., For Sale at a Sacrifice. V c , l . ~ l 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 $1,500 down, to satisfac- tory party. 1m33 Enquire at GAZETTE Clinics. 1‘ r con, EQUITABLE MORTGAGE 00., OF KANSAS CITY. CAPITAL $2,000,000 6 and 7 per cent. Debenture Bonds and Mortga Loans atParand Accrued Interest. ' .8 B. amorous Agent Loom 2 Masonic Building Family Horse For Sale. ' N Extra Lai- e and Fine Family Home for . - sale. Suita 1e for Ladies, Children or .an invalid to handle. Apply at Guam Orrrcn. ,
Norwalk Chronicler