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THECMXOJ

CARTEB BROS. . Editors and Proprietors.

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MY uddle

My 1 Wnd o* keep hor handy, d^nt you know? ougbl ain't so much inclined to tromp the

t T strings and switch the bow ^dry ore timber of my elbows got so

And my fingers wag more limber-like and caper-isn and spry.

Yet I can plonk and plonk and plink, ?. ^UBe b®r and play,

And jest lean back and laugh and wink At every rainy day.

My playinfs only middlin^—tunes 1 picked up when a boy—

The kind o* sort o' fiddlin' that the folks call cordaroy;

"The Old Fat Gall* and "Eyestraw'* and "My Sailor's On tho Sea,"

Is the cowtillions that I saw when the ch'ice is left to me.

And so I plunk and ploug and plink, And rosum up my bow,

And play the tunea that make vou think The devil's in your toe.

'tk-;

That's how this herd old fiddle's won my heart's indurin' love!

From the strings across her middle to the Ecroechin' keys above—

l'rom her apern, over bridge, and to the ribbon round her throat.

She's a wooin*, cooin' pigeon, singiii' "Love me" every note!

And so I pat her neck, and p'ink Her strings with lovin' hand*.

And liat'nin' clost, I som-times thiuk She kind o' understands 1

—James Whitcomb Riley.

fef'

THE TALE OF A SHIRT. IIY MISS. \V. K. SMITH.

"Dear me," sighed Mrs. Kustmau. as slie looked at the clock, ami then glanced around at the amount of work awaiting to be done, "1 do wish Jessie took an interest in house-work, I'm sure I don't know what she will do if she ever has a home of her own."

"I shall be sorry for her husband if she ever has one," replied Mr. East­man ; "she will be a wretched house­keeper. I don't see why it is: her mother was a great worker, and T am sure you have set her a good example all her life."

"One reason it grieves ine so, John, is that I am afraid people will blame me, and say if she was my own child it would be diU'erent."

"No one will say so that knows j'ou, Hattie, her own mother never would have been as kind and patient with her as you have been, and I think the time is coming when she will see she has made a mistake in not trying to learn while she had so good a housekeeper to pat­tern after," and with a look that showed how well satisfied lie wa; with that housekeeper, Sir. Eastman left the room.

Mr. Eastman was a farmer, and was what his neighbors called "well to do." His first wife had died when Jessie, their second child, was a baby, but neither she or Tom, two years older, had ever missed their mother's care since Mr. Eastman brought home his second wife, who petted, loved, and humored the children as if they had been her own.

Tom \v.s attending college now, but Mr. Eastman considere 1 it better for girls to learn good practical home-keeping than Greek or Latin. So, after Jessie had graduated from the little seminary in the adjoining village she had come home.

But so far as learning to be a house­keeper was concerned, Jessie might as well have gone to college with Tom. She had never liked house-work, and she would not try to learn, and Mrs. Eastman, finding how unwilling she was to help about anything, soon stopped asking her, fearing Jessie would tliink she was trying to make lier work more than her own mother would have done.

Mr. Eastman would speak to her about it sometimes, and say how bad it would be for her when she had a home of her own; but Jessie would only laugh and say:

"You talk as if housekeeping was a •very difficnit matter; when I have a house I shall take an interest in the work, and you will find f can be a go-xl 1ioi».»1iooptr wlthcrnt ruTOfLr^ over It all the time before-hand."

Time went on, and Mrs. Eastman did the work alone, while Jessie played on the piano, cr rea l poetry in the ham­mock, with no thought that tho time would ever come when she would be willing to give her knowledge of music and poetry both for the least insight into the mucli-despised art.

One afternojn Tom and his friend and fellow student, Walter Hcrndou, came down unexpectedly.

"Prof. G was ill" Tom said, and so was glad to give them a couple of days' vacation, and he had coaxed Wal­ter to spend the time with him.

To tell the truth, he had not needed much coaxing. He had been home with Tom a few times before, and the remembrance of the hours spent in Jessie's company made him accept Tom's invitation at once.

The evening passed very pleasantly and Walter resolved that, before his visit was over, he would ask Jessie to be his wife. Early the next morning Mr. Eastman received a telegram. Mrs. Eastman's only sister was very sick. They must go at once if they wished to see hn\

Mrs. Eastman thought of Jessie, even in her grief.

"How will she get along with the work," she said.

"Don't worry about the work," said Tom. "Walter and I will help her."

"1 think I had better help her by returning to town to-morrow," said Walter, but neither Tom nor Mrs. Eastman would hear to that, and begged him to stay.

"We shall be so lonesome with every one gone," said Tom, and as Jessie added her entreaties he promised to re­main.

When they returned from the depot, after seeing Mrs. Eastman on the train, they found JeBsie in the kitchen. She did not—as yet—doubt her ability to do the work as it shonld be done, so made no objections when they proposed coming to help her, and they offered to shell the peas for her, while she mixed the bread Mrs. Eastman had set the night before.

Slie never thought of put-ting in any salt, or more water, but mixed it up just as it was, blushing as liei* inexpe­rienced hands scattered the flower down the front of her dress and on the floor, and she saw that Walter was looking at lier.

At last the rough, lumpy looking dough was as hard as she could mix it, and with flushed cheeks and aching arms, Jessie set it aside and prepared to clean up the flour she had spilled, feeling more awkward than she ever had in her life.

It was not as hard to make the beds and rearrange the parlor, and when that was done she returned to the kitchen. Knowing Mrs. Eastman's bread was al­ways baked before dinner, she at once built up the fire and prepared to bake hers. There did not seem to be as much of it as her mother made, and she could not make nicely shaped loaves, but she got it into the tins, somehow, and pat it at once into the oven.

Oh, that dinner! as long as Jessie lives she will never, never forget how mortified and embarrassed she felt as she sat at the table and listened to Tom's surprised remarks as he tried the various articles of food she had pre­pared.

The peas were cooked into a thin batter, while the potatoes wero only half done, the meat was burnt on the outside, and raw in the middle, and the bread was—as Tom said—"fearfully and wonderfully made," being heavy and hard, and spatted here and thero with lamps of uumixed flour, and smelling strongly of yeast.

There was nothing she could say, no excuse she cculd offer, and she sat still trying to keep back the tears, while the voang men made their dinners off stale bread and crackers, and tried to lessen her embarrassment by appearing not to notice it

She was thankful when they were leaving the dinner table to hear Tom ask Walter to go for a boat ride, never dreaming that his doing so would make lier still more trouble.

Sh« had just got the dishes washed,

I

when they returned. Tom was lau^h; ing, a*.id Jessie could not help joining him when she looked at Walter.

In pushing off the boat Tom's paddle had slipped and sent a shower of muddy water all over his friend.

"Get one of father's shirts for him, Jess," said her brother as soon as he could speak: "we expected to go back to-night, so did not bring any extra clothes with us."

Jessie returned from her father'sroom after a prolonged absence, with a | colored slurt hanging over her arm.

"He has taken all Irs clean white ones with him, I guess," she said; "this is all I can find."

"That will do ju'it as well, thanks," said Walter. "Now can you tell me where I can find a laundress?"

"There is no ono around here does work of that kin 1," sai I Tom ; "any of our neighbors would b; offended for life if you asked them to w.ish a shirt for pay. Jess will do that up for you; you can't go back to town in that colored one."

Poor Jess! Comm in politeness de­manded she shonld offer to do up the shirt, and she did so, bl::s!iing a little as Walter said:

"I do bate to make you so much trouble, but as there is no laundry here I suppose I shall have to. J see by your own culhir.s an 1 cuff.s I am giving the task into skillful baud

Washing the shir! was easy ono:ig!i, and • Iessie felt, quite victorious, as sli-> saw how white it looked in the rinsing water.

"I wonder how much starch it will need." sho thought, as she to )k down the package; "men always have their shirts awful stiff, it must take lots " !S > she poured about half the piekage intD a pan and prepared it according to

• 11 io directions on the In x. They went for a drive while the shirt

was drying, and in discussing the scullery, Jessie forgo: her discomfiture over the dinner, and appeared as light-hearted as ever. But even the [ leasant-est ride must come lo an end, and as they drew near th.' ho-.ise, the thought of getting tea leidv b.'gaa to weigh ..m her mind. Sho did not anticipate, any trouble ironing the shirt. She had seen Mrs. Eastman iron themoi'en, and it looked very easy ; so she was sur­prised, as well as dismayed, when the starch stuck to the iron and onto the cloth, in great black patches that would not rub off, in spite of all she could do. There was something wrong with it, but she could not tell what; it was surelv stiff e longii, she cou'ul hardly break it. Whe worked awav desper.it -ly, scraping with a luii.e, and rubbing it wi.h a we' rag. until she saw show.is making it wor^e in-.t -nil of better. It was a curious looking gar­ment to be called clean, and Jessie

..stood looking at it with her eyes full of tears, \t'ondering what she should do and what the l'astidioas Walter Hern-don would say when lie r uv it, uh ei she heard Tom and him coming.

She would have put it out of sight be­fore tliay got in the room, but she nas too late. Tom spied it, an I burst into an uncontrollable fit of langht -r, in which Walter, in spite of his pity for Jessie. stTon joined.

"Oh, Moses!" gasp.d Tom. "She's starched flie whole shirt!"

Jessie glanced from Tom's laughing face to the shirt, and realized in a mo­ment th - mistake she had made. Tears of real mortification filled her eyes, and she hastily left tho room, just as Mr. and Mrs. Eastman came in at the gate.

They had found Mrs. Walton much better, entirely out of danger. r. East­man said, and Mrs. Kastmun, feeling worried on account of the work, had in­sisted on coming home, but where was Jessie, and why did slie not come to speak to them?

Tom soon explained matters, and al­though Mr. Eastman felt very sorry for his daughter, there was a merrv t winkle in his eyes, that Tom nor Walter did not understand as he said.

"Do not think me har 1 and unfeeling, if I say I am very glad this has hap­pened. It is better for Jessie to fe d mortified anl humiliate,1 for a few hours now, tlnn to ruin her own and her husband's happiness, if she ever has a home of h^r own."

.rcssie could not 1)3 induced to par­take of the tasteful supper Mrs. East­man prepared, and she did not come down staii i the next day until Tom and Walter ha> I gone.

But slie profited by the lesson she had received, and the next Christmas when Walter again went down to the farm-house with Tom, Mr. Eastman told them, with pardonable pride, that every article of food on the well-filled table was prepared by Jessie's own hands.

Jessie is now Mm. Walter Ilerndon, and ij a model housekeeper, but her father declares she would not have been if they had not 1 -ft her to keen hous^ the time Mrs. Walton took sick, and although Tom is now a grave judge, he often laughs at his sister about her way of doing up shirts.

Tho (Jeography Li'Siou. The lesson of the d iv too often con­

sists in the repetition by rote of so many sentences or paragraphs from the class book, which are seldom expanded or made more attractive and int-dligible ' by elucidation on the part of the i teacher. Such instruction, if it may be j so called, i3 ba.l for the teacher and -worse for the taught. It is especially pernicious to the children in the earlier stages of their geographical studies, ! for it, torture; their memories and ' brings no compensating advantage. It ; fosters idleness and listlessness on the i part of the teacher, who. instead of ex- ! erting his faculties to invest the sub- i jeet with a living interest, becomes for

j the time a mere machine, mechanically i acting within tlu limits prescribed in the class-book.

I In dealing with the young we should ; ! try to feel ourselves young again, to j see things as they are seen by young , J eyes, to realize the difficulties that lie j j iti the way of children's appreciation ; | of the world around them, to be filled |

j with an abounding sympathy which : subdues all impatience on our side, and : ! calls out on the side of the children j

their confidence and affection. Mutual j sympathy and esteem are a pledge of ! enduriugsuccess. To cement this bond j of union between teacher and taught j there should be no set tasks for some | considerable time. The lessons ouuht j rather to be pleasant conversations about familiar things. The pupils should be asked questions such as they can readily answer. and the answering of whu-li caus.-s them to reflect, and gives them con­fidence in themselves and freedom with the teacher. The objects in the school­room, in the playground, on the road to the school, should be made use of as subjects for such qnestioaings with tha aim of drawing out the knowledge ac­quired" by the pupibi from their own ob­servation. Every question sliotil 1 be one which requires for its answer that the children have actually seen some­thing with their own eyes and have taken mental note of it. The putting

j of such questions stimulates the observ­ing faculty, and not infrequently gives a chance of distinction to boys and girls whose capabilities are not well tested by the ordinary lessons of school.—' Popular Sr'tetiee Monthly.

He Was Like the Moon.

A plain spoken country preacher in Texas was called upon to make a few remarks at the grave of a man who was somewhat unpopular, and who during his life was mnch addicted to drink. The preacher fulfilled his task in tlio following words:

"With what shall I compare the de­ceased remains? Shall I compare him with the suu? No never. The sun blinds people with its brilliancy. The deceased never blinded anybody with his brilliancy. Shall I compare him with the stars. No, not with the stars that can only be seeu at night. Our late friend could be seen both day and night, at the saloons. I think, on the whole, Ave had better compare him with the moon. The moon gists full every once in a while, and so did the deceased. I've heard that the moon borrows its light and so did the remains, for he smoked a great deal and was always letting his cigar go out. Peace to his ashes.—Texas SiJtings.

BLOW PAST, O WI3H> OF MEMORY.

Blow past, O wind of memory! : ^ : -C ;• I must be calm to-iiight;

What would they say of one who bore The trace of griof iu sight?

Across the lightel hall you show My mother's face to rae,

Within a room whose windows wide Look out upon the sea.

Tho young moon pdepi between the panes Upon her slender hands ;

And kisaes tenderly a form That there bosido her stands.

The group I love grows wider now, All. all aro gathered there;

My father grave, my sister sweet, My brothers, tall and fair.

Oh, ouee a^ain to fed the hands Clasp mine in love of old!

Oh. cnco a^ain to pi< H3 tin lips That now aro dumb and cold !

Hasta on, 0 Time! and bring me thero To where they wait above ;

It must be 8we«t—it must ba swoct, In that fair Land of Love.

Oh, hush; my heart! 1 would be calm, No griof must rei.u'n in sight;

Blow past, O wind of memory 1 I must not weep to-night.

—Anna H. Jicnsvl, in ISoslon Truuterint.

HER LOYALTY. ISY .1. \V. I.

The rattle of cordage, a wheeze, a pull" of smoke and the little steamer "Unicorn'' was o!V.

On board were two passengers—tour­ists, apparently—"bound for Trevor .Landing," th-' st.nvard confidentially told the "niggers" as he contemptu­ously called tho roust-abouts into whose care the "lTnicorn"wiisentrusted.

"Mighty fine people," he ad led, as the Captain, a hardened, weather-beaten old man, hardly distinguishable from his roust-abouts in color, passed by.

The "people" thin allude 1 to were Mrs. Marston aiid her daughter--who were answering an advertisement in a New York paper for boarder<• They had written to A. Trevor in answei to advertisement and were now almost at their journey's end. Only a twenty mile trip up the Huntlow 'r Itiver.

"Only a few mile-; up, men," said the Captain of the ii.tle steamer. "We could easily see it only fur the skirt o' woods yonder across the bead."

The morning was soft and balmy. It was the fresh May-time of the year. The cypress trees along the river-banks showed grim and naked through the meager drapery of the gray hanging moss and their own scant foliage; but over the live oaks, clad in glittering, silver leafage, and amid the close un­dergrowth, trailed the yellow jasmine in the glory of full blossoming. The air was full of the odor of bud and bloom. The solitary water-fowl, from his slumbrous reverie, was startled by the shrill whistle of the steamer, and Hew from his nest beside some pool of stagnant water.

To the young girl who stood on the deck of the little vessel, the scene was one of deep interest. It was her first experience of the far south. The Hash of the river in the sunshine, the almost tropical variety of the tlowers and creep­ing vines along the banks, the solemn aspect of the moss-shrouded cypress, the sweetue s of the morning air, the shrill call of the river birds, all served to impress her with a sense of delight­ful novelty.

She was a charnrng creature, with her soft, round, little face, her piquant expression, pud her large deep brown eyt s.

Xot far oil sat a dignified and staid ladv whom sho Occasionally addressed as ".Mamma.''

"Yell can't fool dis niggah," said the steward when he next made comment. "I knows 'em whero I see 'em. Dey's from do norf. Mebbe dey's down lioah fur dcr health -or mebbe jist fur fun and the summer months."

The steamer gave a shrill whistle as it passed a bend in the ri\er and dis­closed a "landing" 011 the right bank.

"Mamma!" exclaimed the young girl, "see, he is waiting for n>: and he is a young man." Ami she was a picture of toy and eagerness as tin- young man's clear-cut features wero more distin­guishable.

"Pat gal's a puil'ect llirt, I do spec," was the comment of the steward, as he came forward to help tun lnJiun witi, their satchels.

There were two figures on the land­ing and one was Arthur Trevor; the other his negro cart driver. Tho former stepped down to the gangway and cauie aboard the boat.

"You are just a splendid looking fel­low, and no mistake," thought the girl, as she surveyed Trevor with an ap­preciative glance. "Hut you do dress iu a barbarous fashion; and I wish your hair was not quite so long. I rather like your brown face, and drooping mustache; and your eyes are superb."

Trevor was a tall, lithe young man with a royal bearing, full at once of ease grace and dignity.

He spoke to the Captain as he stepped on deck and then lifted his hat to the ladies with almost knightly chivalry, but with a manner in which a slight indieatiou of embarrassment, was per­ceptible.

"I trust you had no trouble in get­ting up safely" he said. "The trip is rather tedious at this season of the year. The late April showers, you know, swell the river. As I advised you"— this with a faint smile, "in response to your letter. Mother and I live here quite alone. "We have no society in the neighborhood —110 neighborhood, in fact; hut are thrown quite upon our own resources. I'm afraid you'll have quite a tiresome time of it"—to the younger of the two—"unless, indeed, you are fond of horseback riding and boating. Tho majority of our Southern ladies are, 1 believe ; but I don't know whether in the north" -

"Oh, I'm devoted to out-door exer­cise. I adore the country. After those stupid balls and receptions, and calls, even l'atagonia would be Paradise."

Khe evince! decided enthusiasm, and he was a firm believer in it; but it was such an enthusiasm as was not alto­gether calculated to arouse his own. He looked at her in a startled, haif-embarrasscd manner, and she noted the look and saw that it, ended in wonder­ment at her strange, physical beauty. She was Satisfied.

"You are a giddy thing," he was thinking, in his earnest fashion of thought. "I don't know much about women, young or old, I think you aro very beautiful, but I shall not fall in love with you. I wonder if you are a coquette? I fear you'll find this prosy life of ours verv vain and empty."

And she: "You look like a man of will and endurance. You would be adorable in a dress coaf. What a truth­ful, candid face you have! But it is almost too earnest. Were you over guilty of frivolity in your life? Billiards, cigars, fast horses, ilirtations, operas, what do you know of them? If you would only fall in love with me, liow you would love me, I am sure."

Trevor's mother, clad iu widow's weeds, met them at the door, and wel­comed them. Her bearing, like that of her son, was one of courtly grace and dignity. At times a slightly hesitating air betrayed her distrustful state" of mind, which not unfrequently accom­panies those whom misfortunes have overtaken, and where adversity usurps tho place of prosperity.

Ilcr pale, quiet face bore marks of sorrow, but tho expression was on a of sanctified lovelines3.

"I jes tell you ole missus was a stump-down beauty befo' de wall," said the old black butler one day to the girl. "Slie ain't got ngly yet, neither. Mastah got shot in the war and all de niggers went, and de old plantation went to ruin too. But when young mastah cum back from the ' Versity lie took holt on things and him and me is going to build the ole place up again. He don't pear to tink 'bout nofin only the place—-au il ole missus. He treats her jist like a baby, and her wish is law, I tell yer."

The gentle'faced, gray*haired lady said to lier guests, with that soft, liquid accent which distinguishes the best Southern pronunciation:

"You are the first boarders wo've ever had, but I insisted on your coming. I thought it would be a pleasure to my son, and be—well—he said you would be company for me. I don't know whether we can make yon comfortable, bnt we will do all in our power to make your stay pleasant."

* , W

The young girl thought she hall never seen a sweeter face, and it grew kinder and would light up in a marvel* ous way when Arthur's name waa spoken, or he came near.

"Ho is a dovoted son, my dear," sh« would say. "No mother could wish for a betto:-."

And now a new and sweet experience be^an for the master of the plantation on the Sunflower River. In its rapid growth of deliciousnessand joy it mada a secondary thing of his ono great pur­pose; that of building up the old plan-tat ion to its former self.

That evening became into tea with a white rose on the lapel of his cordu­roy coat; and there was only one left on hei- breast to kiss the dimples of her pretty chin where there had been two before.

Ilis sweet-faced mother noticed the likeness of \hs two buds and smiled, faintly, perhaps in memory of a long gone time when he, whose portrait hung in' the front parlor, and she would sometimes wear twin roses from the same bush.

Arthur Trevor was iu love already. "Hooks?" said the old butler to the darky audience in the kitchen. "Books? Lord sakes, ef de gall ain't jist conjured him, suali! since she's

j come, it's forebber books, and de plan-j tatiou is bein' left in determe.ital sar-; cumstauces." | "Yes," responded the hostler from : the chimney-corner, "and outside <>' | dem books he's more pertick!erish 1 about de bosses clan he ebcr w as afoah. | Pev nebber was so fed, or dey uebber

i lias been kept so clean, and 'specially | de one Miss Marston rides." j The girl herself saw the change in | him, and it flattered her; she s.iw it was

her work. At the same time sho be-! came conscious of a change in her own j nature scarcely less marked than the ; alteration in him. She only laughed I joyously when her mother bade her j not to trifle with Trevor's heart, j though she thought. "He's too honest i for trilling." But she knew it never could be anything else, for she was plighted to a man in the North.

The days went by in summer idle­ness. There wore horseback rides down the river road, an 1 moonlight excursions 011 the river. Thus it did not take her long to learn that the touch of her garments tilled him with delight; and if by any chance her hand touched his—!

Still, a sore struggle was waging in her heart, through all the rides and

I moonlight boatings—a struggle be­tween awakened conscience and strong inclination. How could she escape from the toils she had woven about herself.

"He is so kind to me," she would sav­in self-communion, "and so gentle, and yet"—and her thoughts would tlv to tho almost forgotten Xorth, ami to one who had always been the quickest to claim her hand iu the dance; to dimly-lighted conservatories, whose exotic plants exaled subtile odors, and where was forever the faint, lulling fall of water in the marble basins of tiukling fountains. Then her troth-plight would rise before her, and she felt a vague dread of what—she could not define. So she often hummed the old French rhyme, "Loyal je xeraidiirant nta vie," and she strove to bo honest; to hate the smell of Southern honeysuckle; to forget the glory of the Southern moon, ami shut out from memory the musical How of the Sunflower Hiver.

"What is that couplet you repeat so often?" he queried one day, and then her womanly instinct tempted her to tell him all.

"It means my loyalty is above all other things in the world," she said, with au attempt at a smile, which was an ignominous failure. "1 have a lover in the North whom I shall marry some day, and I sing it when I think of him."

The words cost her a powerful ellort, an l tho blood surged to her face as she saw him turn away, with his own face pale as death. She notic.nl that, ever after, the grave melancholy of lii-s de­meanor was intensified, and though he w as with lier more than ever, he did not smile at every light saying of hers a3 was his wont.

One onttiiiiii muiuiug iliey rode out together. It was her last day. To­morrow she was going home.

"The old conventionalities, the old hollow mockery," she thought—"all these will enter into my life in a few-days. I shall miss my r.hort, sweet freedom, and I shall miss eveu more—" she scarcely dared finish the thought.

I "I shall never forget your kindness," j she said, as she turned her face to where he rode in silence at her sido, booted and spurred like a civalier of

| old. They wero the lirsi words that I had been spoken for a good half hour. I She knew there wero thoughts in his heart akin to hers. "I can never repay you for it all," she said.

Suddenly he checked his horse be­neath a giant oak, whose broad shadow-fell across the road. Involuntarily she stopped and looked at him anxiously.

"Ever repay mo he repeated. The words came hard between his clenched teeth—"ever repay me?" He lingered on the words as if a thousand memories were passing through his brain—"don't you know tliat you have repaid me a thousand fold? Don't you know that your smiles—your kind words—your— don't you know that I love you?"

There were tears in his eyes ere the words all came. Her gaze fell upon his face and the anguish depicted there. Tho foreshadow of her going touched her with infinite regret. The words he hail spoken thrilled her and confounded her with the overwhelming sense of a revelation whose meaning she had but dimly known. Slie saw her fate stand­ing faco to face with lier; and she saw not the tranquil, propitious fate her fancy had depicted. She saw a future in the retlected pallor of his face, miserable alike for both. I11 that mo­ment she knew that ho was dearer to her than all else beside! But she would not let him know. Touching his horse lightly with her riding whip,she turned her own iu the direction whence tliev lia 1 come.

"I am going away to-morrow, you remember," slie said, and lier voice had a tinge of sadness, though there wa-s no tremor in it. "We must not quarrel 011 the eve of mv departure."

"It beats anything dat I eber see in all o' my horned days," said tho old butler to the cook, at sunset of a drear December day as he piled a huge back­log on tli3 crackling hickory lire, and, through sheer ill-humor, kicked his master's hunting dog that lay dozing on the hearth. "Dat gal dat was here las' summer done gone ruin him. He followed her around while she washoah aud now he got to go follow her agin' aud de plantation all going to go back to waste agin and ole missis to be lef' 'lone. It jis takes de rag smak of'n de bush."

It wa3 as lie said. Trevor had started north in search of his lost heart.

"It is perfect folly that I should love her," he often thought; "she is wealthy and fond of society. My love could not atone for the solitude of this place, aud I never will leave it in mother's lifetime."

And agaiu he would say, "It is very lonely down here on the Sunflower River. I never knew how lonely it was until she left."

His thoughts followed her in her northward flight. His soul went in pursuit cf her, and he said to himself one cloudy December morning: "lean stand it no longer, I must sse her agaiu."

So it was that Trevor had left. He was on his way to her. He wondered as he sped along how life had ever been endurable without her.

Everything seemed dull and empty, and he yearned to see her sweet face once more.

He had never been farther north than Virginia, where his college days were spent, but he knew tho number of tho street in the city where she Jived. He drew from his pocket-book a dainty lit­tle card with her name upon it, and Thursday down in the corner. He re­membered she had said, with a joyons' •mile which hannted him always:

"But when you como, all days will be alike."

The train drew into the depot of the great city, and he passed out through the throng. Entering a hack he drore to a hotel. * v

JP-V*

That day he took gre toilet. It took him a grf^^^gg^ the mirror in liisSljgorn cravat. Finally Imj ftarted anoYand

t price for Hides

^ -iir VW."

QUESTION.

" and What Hi 111 to Do So,

difficulty found"thehouse. He ww, LBCRKEysJt*y[pW^ofribiine.j prised that his ring remained ^L^^eT1'''1^ * ° ^ unanswered; he raiij$figain and the door, after some delay, wis opened by a serv­ant in livery.

"is she.at home?" he eagerly queried, and called her name, handing him bis card.

The man looked first at him and then at his card, in a staitled and confused manner.

| "Didn't you know that she was dead, sir? She died two weeks ago," were

; the words that stabbed Arthur Trevor's heart like a knife.

Yes, sho was dead, the struggle be-: tween loyalty and love had overpow­ered her; they called it rapid consump­tion, it was in reality something else. Only Arthur Trevor never knew the

j truth that she died for love of lfm. j He staggered down the steyp stricken i mortally, but uttered no word. I He went back to the plantation^ and j his gentle, gray-haired mother met him ! at the door, lire many moments had I passed she was soothing as had been ! lier wont when ho was young. i He is living on the old plantation yet. I But the jasmines and roses of each suni-I mcr only till his soul with bitter sor-] row, because they remind him that she 'isdead. The flash of the river water I in the sunshine, the moonlight and I aroma of tho honeysuckle alike recall I his bitter loss; and he never sees the j smoke of the wheezy litt'e steamer 011 the river that it doss not bring to his

J recollection the day when he first took her by tho hand to welcome her to Sunflower Bend. — Yankee B'.a l \

A Dag's lIos]>i al. The Rev. Mr. Mundav, curate of

Chr st Church, is a lover of dogs and can tell a good story. At a recent after-dinner sitting ho related this anec­dote in his usual fe.icitous style;

"Thero was a fellow in London cilled 'Keunell Harry,' a name with a semi-military distinction, who sold dog's neah, and kept a sort of private hos­pital for aristocratic pedigreed dogs. As he always cured the sick ones, I was quite anxious to know what his method was, and asked him one day.

" 'Hit's me h'own secret,' he said at first, but he relaxed at sight of a half-crown.

" 'Y'ou see, sir, w'en one of 'em bloomin' cads as drives 1110 ieddv comes and li'axes me will li'i board a sick poodle h'i tips 'im a wink kind of mys­terious like, an' h'i says, says h'i li'if your leddy will pay well for the priverlidge h'i'll take the dawg an' send 'im 'onie ii'as goo 1 li'as new at the end lio'f a month, an' h'i doei'

"Then I asked him if he gave the dogs any medicine," slid Mr. Munday, as he blew a silver-lined cloud of smoke above his blode head.

"'H'i does aud h'i doesn't ' said Ken­nel Harry iu his loftiest manner. 'Wen them bloated dawgs comes to the 'ospitil they're as poorly an' full of airs as me leddy herself. They sulks round, an' wen h'i goes to feed 'em they turns up their noses at vitals as is good ennff forme. Wot does h'i do? H'i shuts 'em up an' starves 'em, sir, till they're glad to eat hnnything li'as h'i's offered them. An' afore they gits h'it they must joomp for it. "Joonip, ye beggar! Joomp, will ye," with a teeckle of me whip li'at every word.'

"Well, sir, h'it gives 'em a bootful' cirkulatashnn an' makes 'em li'as lively on' bloomin' li'as rats. An' by the h'end of a moontli, sir, they're mighty glad to eat vitals wot h'i turns h'up 1113' nose at. An' wen h'i takes'em '01110 its "'Oop! 'oop! an' 'ooray! 'ere's Flossie or Doggie li'as fine li'as a fiddle." An' me leddy says >en h'ivd charged for the board an' the inedecine—medecine, do ye see, sir—she says: "I'll make it dooble," an' the dawg 'e jumps lively with 1110 li'eye upon 'im. That's h'all, sir. Thank'ee, sir.'"—Detroit Free I're.ia.

Tlmwiiiir Out tlii! Frczsi. Many persons have the idea that life

is endangered only if the patient be brought too suddenly from the cold into a warm place. They believe that if one proceed very carefully and slowly with the warming, tho cold can never pro­duce a lasting injury to the system. There is certainly uodonbt that sudden warming is very dangerous, and that a great deal depends upon the right treat­ment of the frozen limb. Experience shows that, while some people have frozen joints treated in such a manner that they are completely restored, others are less fortunate, aud suffer frequently in after years. But one must admit that intense cold alone, without being followed by sudden warming, which proves so disastrous, suffices to cause severe suffering. I11 this respect, a great deal depends on the nature of tho person. If very sudden transitions from heat to cold and from cold to heat be avoided, a healthy.person can with­stand intense cold without serious con­sequences, especially if he be mentally active, energetic and muscular, and has a aound heart, that is if his pulse be regular and strong. A robust person can withstand the temperature at which a'coliol aud mercury freeze. Members of north-pole expeditions have experi­enced temperatures of Lifty or more de­grees below zero without suffering harm.

However, it happens not unfrequently that even moderately cold weather, when the thermometer is but a few de­grees below the freez'ng-point, causes serious ills, aud sometimes even fatal results. This is apt to happen to per­sons who are amemic, poorly f'd, effeminate, or mentally depressed. Old men, children, aniemic girls, drunkards, and people with a weak heart, are all liable to be frost-bitten, and easily freeze to death if they succumb to sleep while exposod to intense cold. They fall into a sort of stupor, sit down to rest, soon fall asleep, and in most in­stances never awake. For a long time they remain in a condition bordering on death; they breathe a little, and the heart makes feeble attempts to main­tain the circulation of tho blood. — Popular Sriencs Monthly.

Chinese Farming. There are reasons to believe that the

trade of this country with China will soon grow to majestic dimensions. < )f the $7,500,000 of exports to China in the last fiscal year nearly $5,000,000 worth was of distinctively agricultural products and of their manufacture. Of the remainder, the largest share was mineral oil. The Chinese Commission in the United States this year is charged especially with tho promotion cf banks, telegraph and telephone lines, behind which loom up the extension cf canal?, the introduction of railroads, cf agri­cultural machinery, and of such of our products as Cliiua needs, and she has need of many. Her home products, aside from tea, are wheat, millet, garden vegetables, rice, poor apples, peaches, grapes, etc. The food of China is mostly vegetables and fish—the extensive sea coast, rivers and canals supplying the latter. Beef is almost unknown, except in the foreign settlement?, and berries are rare; mutton is pie . tiful; pork, poultry and eggs are abundant. Horses are scarce, mules are numerous, cattle in small numbers, but flocks and herds are unknown. The national habit is opposed to change, and so the nation of three hundred million 'souls goes on in "the good old war." The United States broke the spell of conturies in Japan. It may yet do the same for China, We go for triQe and progress, other nations for trade and conquest and colonies, and the Chinese leaders are beginning to understand this.

A modernized agricnltnre, and the general introduction of railroad and wagon service, would rejuvenate the decaying "Flowery Land," which is a bald misnomer for a land destitute of flowers and shrubs, treeless, and with a dull herbage that contrasts strongly with the culture that has made the Americai) continent to "blossom like the rose," and to be rich in various products that its enterprise bears to all parts of the civilized world,—American Agriculturalist, •, „ ,

Though it be cruel work thai is to be done theps are always willitfg feminine fingers t9 do it

Another queer thing is that almost any girl will freely confess, with a lit­tle urging, the number of proposals she has had, and a goodly proportion of sobered matrons even are not averse to recounting the conquests of their youth. But ask a married mau how he happened to propose to his wife, and in nine cases out of ten he will only

j answer with an uueasy laugh and look as sheepish as if you had found him out in the one inexcusable folly of his lifo; and, as for unmarried men, who has ever known one who would acknowledge how many times he had beon in­duced to offer himself and his more or less tempting prospects in a matrimo­nial way ?

To a woman a proposal very rarely comes unexpectedly. Not that women, as a rule, are given to looking upon every eligible man in the light of a possible lover or husbaud, as one young lady declared to bo the case with herself; but for the reason that the majority of men very naturally dread a refusal, and consequently postpone the critical moment until confidence is in­spired by a kindly encouragement of the guarded advances they venture to make. It is an open secret that a lit­tle diplomacy is often employe! to bring a cautious admirer to the point, and clever is she who so skilfully man­ages the delicate task that the effort is not too manifest. All the world knows how Ruth schemed to capture Boaz; and she was a right modest and proper damsel, too. But R-ith was a widow, and-she had had experience, and was level-headed enough besides to see the advantage of standing by her mother-in-law; so her success is not to be won­dered at. Maud Muller tried very much the same dodge later on, but it didn't work quite so well; and all the feminine world has been devising other and equally harmless little schemes ever since Ruth's triumph—and proba­bly before—down to the famous French woman who revolved before her partner at a ball and frankly said:

"Monsieur, I desire a husband. Do you not find me beautiful ?"

"Mademoiselle, we will be married to-morrow."

This was about as direct a proposal as that of a prominent man in the North­west. whose oourtship had been rather long drawn out. "I am going to the Rocky Mountains," he abruptly re« marke I ono evening, "and if you want to go as my wife be ready next week." And slie was ready.

Equally matter-of-fact was the fol­lowing, written by a Yale man on a gilt-edged invitation card:

My Deai: —:—You will probably not be preitly n:rpriso;l at receiving a pro­posal from liie. Tho fact ia it is the proper thing to be onKugeil junior voar, and as it lias always boon uuderstooil that we should be married some day ws may as well conic to an agreement now. Of courss you know tliat I love yon and all that, ami if you accept m ; I shall write to you regularly, initiate you into tlie class secrets, and tell you all about my affairs. Anxiously awaiting a favorable reply, yours devotedly, — —.'

The depth of devotion which prompted this, remarkable epistle may be questioned; but it stands as a unique example of a college boy's first effort.

Very few people fall in love at first sight, and propinquity is doubtless the commonest cause of marriage, though occasionally an unpremeditated aol or heedless jest develops into a serious at­tachment. Master Cupid has a roguish eye, ever ou the watch for unwary game, and frequently sends his arrows in unexpected directions.

Circus goers of twenty-five years ago, will remember Herr Driesbach, the eel* ebrated lion-tamer, but probably have never in their lives connected liini with a romance; and yet he not only had a veritable romance in his life, but oue that blossomed out of a dish of onions; and it was through the medium of that most plebian vegetable that he won his lovely wife. Persons who know-Mrs. Driesbach before her marriage re-call hor aa tlio bollo of "Worcester, O., of which place her father was a wealthy resident. Accomplished as she was— beautiful, witty, and full of pranks— to meet lier was never to forget her. Happening to be placed with a party of young people at a hotel table where Driesbach was sitting, gome one dared her to pass him a dish of onions. Imme­diately seizing the dish, she not ouly passed it, but inquired if lie would have an onion. He said he would, and took one; and from so small a beginning sprung au acquaintance that iu three months endod in marriage. It was a singular marriage, und people loug Wondered whether the dauntless lion-tamer would have equal success in turning his wife.

Views on the Jordon. Rapid, turbulent and dangerous as is

this historic river, rich beyond all others in sacred associations, it has, notwithstanding its numerous violent rapids, intervals of quiet beauty. Unique, like the Dead Sea, in which it finally loses itself, this remarkable stream is well worth attentive con­sideration. Well calculated in its physical phenomena for the symbolic use it has served, its singular features as studied by the traveler aro strongly illustrative and suggestive in connec­tion with sacred story. Actual distance from the place where the Jordon emerges from the Sea of Galilee to its final destination, where it is merged in tho Deiul fSea, is only sixty miles; yet so multitudinous are its doublings and windings that measurements proves its crooked course to be not less than 200 miles. Not in slow and graoeful curves is the distance run gracefully from its rise, about GOO feet below the level of the Mediterranean, but turbu-lently plunging its mnldy torront over a series of violent rapids, there being not less than twenty-seven such rapids between the Lake of Tiberius and the

continue the line of succession. She i£ now 24, "and fully resolved to lead a single life, and be a rare example to her sex." The Governor expresses hie sympathy with a girl of distinguished family who has been so suddenly de' prived of the light of her existence. "Her's'ft not a case of merely remain­ing unmarried for the ten years pre scribed by the yi-ching; but, in the Ian' guage of the odes, she lias vowed that till death she will have no other." In , the same issue a magistrate aud mili­tary officer are degraded for beheading a prisoner who was sentenced to be 1

hanged. The officer excused himself on the ground that the soldier em­ployed at the execution was drunk.

Assaulted by Monkeys. It must have been a comical sight, a

company of men chased by a pack of monkeys, but this is the story as told ; by Capt. Lawsou in his "Wanderings in ; New Guinea." According to his ac- j count, the monkeys were the aggres­sors, but one would like to hear their j side of the question before passing i judgment:

"While marching under some wallah trees we were maliciously attacked by a large troop of monkeys, who pelted us with the wallah nutj and uttered | wild screams of delight when they ob­served that their sudden assault had | been successful. A regular volley of | hard missiles fell about our heads and j shoulders with such force that, being 1 unexpected, we were smitten with dis- I may and scrambled out of the way iu a j very undignified manner. j

"Upon recovering myself I laughed I heartily at the ridiculous figure we had cut, on which one old fellow, who seemed to be the leader of the troop ran out on a branch that hung over my head, and deliberately spit at me with all the gravity of a human being, a trick that I had known a monkey to perform before.

"Stepping back a few paces to get a better aim at him I raised my rifle and fired. He appeared to be killed in­stantly, but sat immovable for several seconds before his body lost its balance and fell.

"The hubbub that then ret in among his companions was fearful. They howled a' the top of their voice and seemed to become half mad with rage. They again began to pelt us with the nuts, and though we shot several of their number they refused to desist, but followed us ou our march, leaping from tree to tree with great agility.

"At last we were glad to break into a run in order to escape their persecu­tions, but this move was unsuccessful, for the monkevs were quite as nimble as we were. So we were compelled to submit to the nuisance for fully three hours, during which time I received so many blows upon the head, baok, and shoulders that I became quite sore, and my light helmet was battered into a highly disreputable shape.

"At length, much to our gratification, our foes tired themselves out and gave up the pursuit. But while we remained in sight they continued to shake their fists with many grimaces most express­ive of defiance and a desire for re­venge. "

Han Y11 and the Alligators. Han Yu was banished to Kuangtung

and appointed Governor of the semi-barbarous district of Chao Chou. When he arrived there the people 00m-plained to him that their flooks and herds were being destroyed and them­selves ruined by the ravages of a qual- j itv of alligators, Ngo, which lived in a j lake not far from Chaoyang-hwei. j

Haa Yu went to the lake and ordered ; a pig and sheep to be thrown to the i Ngo, aud when they were assembled he I made them a speech aud said: "Under I former rulers you have been allowed I to remain here, but under the reign ol our virtuous Emperor you oannot bo ! tolerated, and you must leave the em- • pi re. At the south of this plaoe is an | immense sea, in whioh fishes as large i as whales, as weK as those as small as ' shrimps and sprats, can live in peace. I You cau easily go there in a day, but 1 j give you from three to seven days to 1 go. Tf, nftpr that period .you aro atill found here I shall be compelled to bring with me some good arohers with strong bows and poisoned arrows, and declare agaiust you a merciless war." In the afternoon of that day a violent storm arose, with thunder and light­ning, which lasted some days, driving the waters sixty li eastward, so that the lake became dry, and no alligators liavo ever been seen there since.— North China Herald.

N E W STOCK -op-

•| Undertaking,

and its rapid torrent and frequent floods make it a terror rather than an object of delight to those who dwe\I along its circuitous shores. Only from twenty to thirty yards in breadth, the few and dangerous fords and'the. 'sud­den terrible Hoods which rendered bridges useless even when possible, al{ tended to make this remarkable river an excellent barrier between the Is­raelites aud licentious idolators from whom they were to be qut offi No wonder that Naaman, the proud Syriap, in view of the peculiarities of the Jor­don, exclaimed when directed to bathe in its waters: "Aro not Aban.i and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel?" The present bathing place of pilgrims is the traditional site of our Lord's baptism, the famed "fords of the Jordon," sought by all travelers. Deeply cut ir^ the marly soil is the channel of the river. Its waters throughout most, of its course ara hidden from the eye. From an elevation, however, its flow may bo determined by the thick green foliage of luxuriant oleanders, willows and tamarisks which cluster on its banks. It were easy to point many a moral as we glance with the mind's eye along the Jordon's course. Each can do this best, however, for himself. Memories of the sacred word bring their own rich suggestions.

Chinese Rewards fo£ Domestic VjrtnN Among the large number of mem­

orials presented by the provincial' offi­cials of China few are more curioas than those praying for imperial re­wards for persons who have performed in some conspicuous manner their duties toward their families or kindred. Iq a recent number of the Peking Gazette, the Governor. of Honan Province re­quests the bestowal of an "honorary

Sa tent" on a young lady who "ainoe er childhood had been deVoted to hor

books and is imbued with high ideas of duty." The youth to whom she was

Sleeping ou Gunpowder in Africa. "Two new houses were being built,

in one of which I was to take up my quarters; but till they were finished I was forced to make myself at home in the gun-room, whilo Lieut. Dhanis was relegated to the provision store. For more than a month I slept on a bed formed of two planks supported at either end on a barrel which, on exam­ination, I found to contain charges of powder for the two mountain Krupp guns; whilo boxes of cartridges, cans of turpentine, and every variety of ex­plosives were iu close proximity. Read­ing in bed was, of course, out of the question, and even taking a light into the room would have been a hazardous experiment had I not made myself ac­quainted with the position of the vari­ous items. Indeed, one night while a regular tropical thunderstorm was raging, Capt. Coquilhat rushed in, in a state of the greatest alarm, entreating me to come and share his room, as he feared I might be shot by the igniting of tho cartridges. But as the danger was about the same in any part of the station—since the barrels of powder would have blown the whole building into the middle of the Congo—I could see no advantage in a change of quar­ters, and thanked him, but remained where I was and went to si jep. —Black­wood's Magazine.

Praise Your Wife. Praise yo.uip wife, man; for pity's sake

g^ye hejf. a, little, encouragoment; it ^ot^'t liur^ her. She doesn't expert it; it w»ll jflake her eyes open wider than

j they tyave for the last ten years; but it I \yill do her go.od for all that, and you,

^o^.. Theifo are many women to-day thirsting for a word of praise and en­couragement. You know that jf tl^e flopr is clet^n, lub^r has been performed to make it sfV You know tl^at if you, cqn taiie fyom your drawer a (dean shirt wheneyer yon want it, somebody's fin­gers haye tojled. Why don't you come out with it hearty, ''Why, how pleasant you make things look, wife," | or "I arr^ obliged ^o you for taking so much pains." Jf yo,u gave a hundred and sixtietn part o( t^e compliments you almost choked tlipm, wi,th before they w^re iqarrie 1; $f yoq wo.uld stop, the badinagj of wl^oni, you ajpe going to> liaye when qumber que is 4e$d (such things w'ivefl may laugh ^t, bt*t they sink deep, sometimes), fewer women lyoi^ld seek for oilier sources of happi­ness. —Columbus Telegram.

Fifteen Thousand Wild Docks Shot in a

The best record ever m^le iq |l\e Susquehanna fields wj^s aboqt eig^t years ago, when on the opening <^ay, William Dobson of Havre de Grace, an expert gunner, killed from a box 540 and burst a fine gun before he stopped. He kept two man busy all dav picking up dcac| ducks. sepon^ got ^t timgs too. hot to l^old. Ten or fifteen yea^s agQ 15,000 were l^il^ed in a day'si shooting. In an average season there are here abqut fifty boxes and 150 bushwhackers. The capital invested in the business ia from $75,000 to $100,-000. This includes boats, decoys, boxes, guns, etc. Froiq 25,000 to 35,-000 ducks liaye been killed in i season i« y»a» They are aold every' where. The best prices are given in New York, Washington, Boston, Balti­more, and Philadelphia- No wild fowl can equal in flavor a Susquehanna can-Yas*back dnok,'-Baltimore American.

died) to invite his spirit to return, and to offer oblations to hie memory, and she is now waiting till one of lier hus­band's brothers ia married in order that she maj adopt one of his sons, and thna

GOODS.

;ASKETS, COFFINS, ROBES.

IL WOERZ Undertaker ud Sextan of Vorwt Hill OMMtorT«)

Best attention will be given day or night

—AGENT FOR THB—

Sioux City Marble Works AND DETROIT BRONZE CO.

ror Whit* DroiiM UontuiMoU atontw.

SYNDICATE BLOCK, • CAHT0H

BUY YOUR LUMBER —AND OTHER—

Building Material —OF THE—

sx. cieoirss:

LUMBER CO. Corner Main and Sixth St

CANTON, - DAKOTA,

We keep everything in onr line that

the trade of the market warrants, and

will do our best to please all who favor

us with with their patronage. We are

making prices as low as the lowest

No charge for delivery within the

city limits.

N. NOBLE, AGENT.

HORIZONTAL GUT

S c a l e B o o k s . 125 Pages, 4 to a Page.

Hay-Scale Check Books, the moat convenient and durably bound acale book on the market. Leather Binding, Finished Grade Paper. Hori­zontal out In prioes.

75 Cents. 75 Cents. Ketall price to trade, 75 cent*. Add 13 canta

(or postage. Try one.

CARTER BROS.. TOWNSHIP AND LAW BLANKS,

CANTON, DAK.

ARBUCKLES' name on a paokage of COFFEE Is a guarantee of excellence.

ARIOSA COFFEE is kept in all flrst-olass stores from the Atlantio to the Paoifto,

COFFEE Is never good when exposed to the air. Always buy this brand in hermetically sealed ONE POUND PACKAGES.

Financially, the few oil oompaniea retaining a separate identity are of lit­tle importance when measured by the present Standard.

It is the shop pie that often fnrnishea te piece that]

AUa CtUiforni the piece thatgaaaeth understanding,

BEAST! Mexican

Mustang Liniment

OURB« Sciatica, Seratcfcst Contracted Lumbago, Sprains, Mnsela^ Rheumatism, Strains, Xrnpti<n% Barns, Stitche*, Hoof Ail, Scalds, Stiff Joints, Screw Stingy Backache, Wora% Bites, Galls, Swinney, Bruises, Both Saddle Oalls, Bnnioa% Spa via Piles, ?orn* Cracks.

TMt« pOOD QUO •TANO-BY aecompIWW* for oTerybo&r exactly iaotebaed Jont. One 'or the giotft popularity of

Mustang fond laite smtvanal fppllcatlliii, Swytoodr needs rack a nedlela*

The LiinKvrnBR needs It la case of accident. Tho Iloaeowtti needs It tor ceasralfamily us*. The weds it for his teaauand htsme£ The Mecksslo aeeds U'alwsgs oa his work

bench. • 6

Tho Minor needs It fa cose ot ewensaey. The Pioneer needslt-caatceteloewwtthont lb Tho Farwer needs It la his hoiee, hie eloU*

and his stock yard. Tho Steamboat er tho Boatoiaa aeods

It la Ubcnl eupply afloatand ashore. Tho Horae-fanclor needs It-It le hie bees

friend and safest rcllsac*. The 8tsck<re*sT assfls it-It win eo*o hiss

thousands ot dollars aad a world of troaMSb Tho Railroad bus aeede It aad wltt aoed It ee

long as Me life Is a tooad of oecMoats and daasers. The Backweodsaiaa assdslk Thereto not*

lac like It as aa antidote for tho daacen toMtSb limb aad comfort which suroaad tho pleassc.

The Merehaat aoeds itaboal hlsstotoaaoat hie omptoreM. Acrtdsats win hswia. aad whoa Ihsse enaielhe •osfsag llslisai Iswoattd atoto^

KoopaJBottie lathe Hoaoo. Tls the bested ICOMMIfs "

Kooy a Bottle la tho >astan. UstaaMsie •solaossssCassMl seise psla saHsssott Kn> s Settle Alwaraks the

N. C- STUBBEBUD

BOOTS AMD SHOES.

The celebrated Bradbury machine used for re­pairing rips. Sign Ooldon Boot, Oauton.

c. M. SEELY, Prop,

Corner Sixth and Ctdar streets.

CANTON, DAK. >

£ree 'bus to and from trains. Commod' ious sample rooms.

No More Trouble! C . W E B B E R ,

. t-IWI — I>- 1 PparfS"

ttel •usal

[WSt

—DKALER IN-

Sewing Machines Needles, Oil and parts for all Machines.

Oharcw isnd *iiv

Sewing machines of all kinds repaired, reasonable. Agent for new and second-hand i lng machines, to suit the buyer. Or, If you wll allow me to choose for you I will select the flaps' machine in use and warrant tlie same for five year«

I keep the finest oil in tho msrkoi; will not gum. I *111 furnish any article you sak for in tbo ma­chine Hue. Briug In the heailn of your sewing ma­chines which are out of order and not them repaired

Yours ltef pi-ctf ully, C. WEBBER,

Offlce 2 doors eouth ot Bergstrom's shop.

HE CANTON LIVERY. m. D. HERMABf, Manager.

—Fifth Street,—

CANTON, DAKOTA.

The leading Feed and Sale Sta­

ble of Canton. The finest turn­

outs. Safe drivers.

COAL COAL!!! LEHIGH NMD <M!

Ohio, Indiana, Illin­ois and Iowa soft coal.

tsetety.:

iofbi

I. N. Martin & Co. Ready to sell and deliver.

Gate City

BRAY & SON, Props. The finest turn-outs in the city at

reasonable rales. Also Feed and Sale stables.

WEDDING STATIONERY The Advocate carries constantly in stock!

an elegant and artistio line of wadding

stationery. We have the

FINEST LINE OF SAMPLES (n these good to be found in the west.

Remember tbis when in need of wad­

ding stationery, ball programs, invita­

tions, eta ^3

CARTER BROS,, Canton.; ]

J. Merchant Tailor.

0ANION, DAKOTA.

nssMeeeOoetom veife <oao *e eeiai e» sieoa aUewleaa, Oleaalaf eai io»ali*c

H—iUf llleslel to. _____

•atliftetioB OaanuitMC.

SHOP ON MAIN STREET!

f. : n

Gotebi ms 8*ri Cbajwat] of Baking The bank hlstjp a pncftV. Tesit

Smit. ( tlwnigh tl Emu]

Mdct i

Tim a esaunitte) Msfm&o Hand 19 W: 'To nilulnTi

rfrjt

krol * fight be

l>WTBt WSGth told and Oaonim

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