*MVI m raX NOBLE MOTHS*. I . *T KXMIKT K. CSSWf. . r ( K ^ t % ^ 4 •&i ;& " y ;v4 '̂.K*| r 1 1 ^ * *?*$ r* - ' •'*> * \ K .V. m" V* iV ̂ *t 'J I* ̂ 4,%( - - $* '"/•> % s,j*•, >f; do not l©t me &©© you wrj^ tftV It your feet h« eold to-day; • * /" TOris §ro*t will surely teach flu Strafe -' And drive the pettlleuce t«i|. "Tfcey've prayed as hard for it to oMp Aa we hare for itn delay; c \\*%- V« knew we'd suffer with tba oold, \/•>; :;. Itey kaew it would the fever sta$. * "X«arre * quarter for their nttet; "• , \ 1 know twM only the widows M X Willi mum «m would (ire m aaoh To bay as a bod of ooil to-night. " Work bit been so scarce of late, And so small has been the pay That, poorly as w* have fared, my dun, We have not a cent to-day. "' '»•_; " Wor have we a monel left to eat; Our pantry shelves are ban, Bat I'll go and try to find some And trust to a Father's care." . • - » How pale the lips, how faint the voice- " Which did these brave words speak, lit"* Aowinghowstronsrthepurposewif,,.- . Itiough the body was faint and w ' Uo she donaed her hat and shawl, y A&d into the street did go, And tears she'd grudged the little < Down her own wan cheeks did ? Wprk die found, and how she toiled /Through that dreary day and niglkt, . Etching 1& the oold and gloom ^llfehe had neither strength nor xSgfat* At dawn her work was laid aside, | r Her tired hands could ststch no And soon her spirit went to dwell > On a more congenial shore, T,-"1'. And the pittance that she earned Scarce found food the following i for the three grieving little ones a Whose mother's soul had passed away. VRnmu>. Mass. ffc* IB" iZ& 0 <? . "• : *•£ • / ;S#iv ' «*<• TGU RACK WINDOWS, i\ - BY VAUNT I. KBNHIB&. 1 Bhe was not much of a heroine. Sh #*b not pretty, nor clever, nor cultivated even her name was exceedingly com monplace; and she lived in a small roo on the fourth floor of a tenement hous and looked out from her one small win dow upon the vast ugliness of the tene ment opposite and down into a small back yard, whose chief ornaments were old tin cans and broken boxes, and which served as a nightly rendezvous for several ener getic cats, whose peculiar melody chimed in with the crying of forlorn babies, and the profane quarreling of half-drunken husbands and hardly- worked wives, tfot a romantic situation certainly; although the little room itself was not so bad, for Sallie's nimble lingers kept it neat and clean, and there was a bright bit of carpeting Reside the •mail, white bed, and a pot of scarlet geraniums blossomed in the window, " Sometimes Sallie stole a half hour in the twilight to sit dreamily beside her open window and watch the flashing and glimmering lights of the gre#city, and Eaten to the never-ending tramp and murmur of the hurrying life around her. One warm spring evening as she rocked softly to-and-fro in her sewing chair, living her little half-hour in a wonderful castle in Spain -- and all girls, no matter how poor or plain they may be, sometimes crown themselves Queen of an enchanted palace--there came from the opposite window a few delicious strains from a violin. Sallie was not a connoisseur in n^asic. In fact, she had such wretched- taste that she could find pleasure iat listening to " Home, Sweet Home, And * The Sweet By-and-by," ground •out of a wheezy hand-organ, and some times stopped to give a penny or two to the little dark-browed Italian, whose shrill, childish voice rang out early and lllte, and was excessively annoying to people who lived outside of the un fashionable precincts of Hadley street. If poor little Sallie had a natural taste far music it was in an exceedingly crude atate; but, even to her uncultivated ear, there was something in the rare touch and strange, pathetic melody that touched a chord that the old organ- ' grinder and little Italian could not reach; and she peered anxiously through the thick; green, leaves for a glimpse of fhe unknown musician. .Lights were glancing here and there |n the great tenement house, whose many uncurtained windows revealed family suppers in various stages of progression. In the story below, she OOtdd see a roughly-bearded man, awk ( wardly dandling a puny baby, and from looms below clamorous apices and clat- ter of dishes came up through the darkness, but, above them all, rang out the pure, sweet strains of the vyolin. Then came a song or two, the rich, tenor *oice lingering lovingly over some for- ' eign words that were quite nnintelligilble to little Sallie. But the song ceased the half-hour of dream life was ended, and Sallie's fancies were banished by the prosaic clatter of a sewing-machine. ' The next morning as Sallie was rub- -'"•lliag her eyes and wondering sleepily what made the nights so short and the lys so long, she suddenly recalled the st night's song, and her wonderment concerning the musician across the way, ?, jind, jumping up, she pattered across the floor with her bare, white feet, and peered curiously through a small rent in the muslin curtain. It was not a ro- mantic action. It waa not, even lady- like to go peeping into her neighbor's trindows, but Sallie never once thought i|f that, and, as fortune always favors 4he impudent, she beheld the hero of Klimli ami ^|f door were thrown wide open, and Sallie hf d a full view of a tall, slender man with a long face and a longer beard, robed in a dingy, old dressing gown and a skull cap, from under whose close- fltting ugliness the brown, wavy hair floated down upon his shoulders. Sallie made a little face of disgust at the de nouement of her twilight romance, and twisting up hpr own long, soft hair, -won dered how a man of the niaeieeaih cent ury could arrange his locks in such an idiotic fashion, i > Later in the day, when Sallie rolled up her curtain and threw open the win dow to water her geraniums, she saw her opposite neighbor arranging an easel in front of the window, and a long pin£ table, covered With books, canvas and brushes in hopeless confusion. Day after day, through the late spring and early summer days, Sallie watched her artist neighbor, always the same, long, pale and ugly, bending over his work, and caught glimpses, sometimes of a fair Madonna, sometimes of a blnr of blue and gray and white, that Sallie thougBKmust be the sea and sky, and in the evehpgs listened to the sweet old melodies ̂and, although she could not understand a word, would sometimes And herself crying over the quaint Ger man songs, so strangely was she moved by the strong, melodious voice. But if ihe. German artist ever noticed the cu rious, brown eyes or the scarlet geran iums across the way, he gave no sign. But the long, hot summer days crept in upon the crowded city. The rich people closed their elegant mansions and sought the breezy shades of the country; but to the poor there comes no such recreation and rest. They must toil through the summer and winter Sallie could only bend the la^Bre lovingly over her ane flower and ctream of green fields and clover mead ows. One morning When Sallie looked out the blinds of the opposite window were closed, and she wondered if Herr Wiedman, too, had gone to the country, and ever so many times that day the foolish child dropped her work to peer longingly out of the window and won der what had become of the artist. By and by the night came softly down, but there was no music that night, and Sallie sat by her window and wondered in her foolish way, and finally bowed her head upon the bare, unpainted sill and cried, because--could she tell why? Well, perhaps Herr Wiedman was sick and had not gone away at all, and Sallie was a soft-hearted little thing and the artist was her neighbor, and was not that reason enough for Sallie to cry? Early the next morning Sallie rolled Up the curtain and listened long and eagerly for any sounds of life in the room across the way; and she fancied that she heard some one moving around clumsily, and once or twice ii loud moan of pain. , "He is sick; I know he is sick," thought she; "and those stupid people around him never know it;" and, eating her frugal breakfast with a sorrowful heart, she slowly tied oh her straw hat. She had to take some sewing to the shops, Mand on the way liack m stop in and see Mrs. Thompson,*? thought Sallie. Mrs. Thompson was a washerwoman, who lived in the same tenement house as the artist, and whom Sallie had acci dentally discovered to be a kind-hearted creature, in spite of her brusque ways and coarse language. So half an hour later Sallie stepped quietly into the un tidy apartment, redolent with the odor of hot suds. "Good morning, M î, Thompson," said Sallie, cheerily. " Ypn're always busy." "Lor' bless the child ! Ye hain't bin in fur a hage," said Mrs. Thompson, motioning Sallie to a seat, while she rested her big red arms on the tub. "Well, I've been busy, too," said Sallie, carefully wiping the chair off be fore sitting down. "You need not stop for me," as Mrs. Thompson's eyes wan dered toward another chair. "I'm not going to hinder. See, I can turn the wringer and help you a little while we talk a few minutes." "Bless the child 1" said Mrs. Thomp son again, wiping her faoe off on het ample apron. "She's allers a 'elping o' somebody." * "Oh, that's nothing," laughed Sallie, as she untied her hat-strings and in quired after the young Thompsons. "Mrs. Thompson," said Sallie," the first time the good woman paused for breath, "has the artist, Mr. Wiedman, gone away?" Sallie was bending very intently over the clothes-basket. "Hartistl wot hartist?" "Why, he's a German, I guess, and he lives on the fourth floor. You must know him." "P'r'aps; 'e's tall, an' slim, an' hugly, an' wears 'is 'air long, like?" said Mrs. ^hompson, interrogatively. "Yes," said Sallie with a little vrince. What right had this homely, red-ffeced Mrs. Thompson to call him ugly, and he .wasn't so ugly either when one got used tohim. "Bear cakes, SaWe, Hi don't know nothin' about 'im. Wot pot 'im into yer 'eadr said Sallie, frankly, . feeling that she waa not clever enough to carry out her preoonceived little subterfuge; "I have seen him often from window, and his blinds have been closed for a day or two, Mid I thought if he had not gone away he might be sick." /Lor* sakes! Hi dnnno. Wot with swen chilern to look few, it's little time there is to mind the neighbors." "Of course,"said Bailie, sympathetical ly, " but if he's really sick somebody .ought to see tp him. Now, let me finish that and you go up and see." Mrs. Thompson wiped her hands os( her apron, and, Wondering a little At Sallie's interest in "that queer went to find out if anything really the matter with the German artist, and soon returned with the information that "'e's a mighty siok man, and Dannie must go straight for a doctor." "Timmy," called Sallie the next morning, . to a barefooted, ragged urchin, whose smiling blue eyes looked out from under a shock of uncombed hair. " Timmy O'Brien, will you take these flowers up to the man who is sick. On the fourth floor, you know, back, n e x t t o -- M \ / ' • ' " Oh yes, I know him. Ill take 'em," and Timmy trotted off. • " And don't tell him---", but Timmy was around the corner; " Mornin', mister," said the young man, walking unceremoniously into the darkened room. " Got some posies fur ye. Sallie Johns, she sent 'em." The sick man turned his eyes grate fully toward the scarlet blossoms and the fragrant green leaves. " Sallie Johns? " he repeated slowly, with a quaint precision, M and who is she, little one? " Don't ye know herf " asked Timmy, in surprise. " She lives right across here, and she tho't mebbe you'd like'em seein's yer sick." Ah, I have noticed the young maiden and the bright flowers many times already. Little one, you may make to her my compliments, and tell her I hope sometime to be able to thank her for them myself." Timmy scratched his head. " Guess I can't hold onter the hull of that, mister. Ill jest say yer much 'bliged. That's wot they ginerally say, ye know," regarding the untutored for eigner with mingled pity and con tempt. "Besides, she told me not to tell yer who sent 'em; so it won't be as 111 have t*> toll her much o' any- thin'." " Why did she Wish that I should not know?" asked the artist, rather feebly. " Dunno. 'Spose she tho't ye'd want some more," said Timmy, reflecting on his own feeling after the disappearance of Sallie's occasional small gifts of fruit and candy. The artist smiled. " They are beauti ful," he said. Yes, mister," said the young O'Brien, sympathetically, "and Sallie's a boss gal, I tell ye. Hope ye'll be better," he added, shuffling out with great dignity, and carefully closing the door behind him, leaving the artist to his fevered dreams--of the beautiful Madonna on his canvas ? Of some fair-haired Gretch- en beyond the sea? Perhaps so. But I think the most vivid vision was of a plain, kindly face, in a frame of dark geranium leaves. And did Sallie know, as she cut the brightest flowers, how near pity is akin to love, and how inva riably love begets love? Perhaps she did, for, under the surface feelings that were so easily worked upon, there was a strong substratum of common sense, and if sometimes there came an intense long ing for sympathy, for Companionship, if in her short twilight dreamings she had learned to think tenderly of the singer, whose deep tones had thrilled her heart, was it any more than other women do? I might tell you a long story, how often, through the weary days of con valescence, Sallie's bright blossoms shone like scarlet stars on the dingy mantelpiece; how later Herr Wiedman climbed up four tenement-house stairs to thank Sallie for her little kindnesses; how the quaint German accent lost all its outlandishness; and Sallie began openly to admire the loug, pale face, and to wonder that other people did not think her artist distinguished look ing; how in the early autumn there was a quiet little wedding in the brown church down the street, and another pair of pyes looked out of the studio window. I might, too, with the license of a story-writer, tell how an old uncle died away off in the Fatherland and left the young couple no end of money; that the long-neglected pictures sud denly became famous, or that an opera manager heard ilfrough some marvel ous accident of Herr Wiedman's won derful voice, and he sang, not through a fourth-story window to a poor sewing girl, but surrounded by the dazzling appurtenances of wealth and beauty and fashion. But, alas! none of these latter things happened. In fact, they rarely do in real life, and, although Herr Wiedman and Salli4, his bride, may have been supremely happy, and doubtless were--since some people re quire so very slender a foundation, on which to build their palace of content ment--yet about the only difference the noticed waa tta* the bride groom's hair and beard were carefully trimmedy and that the bride's scarlet geraniums blossomed in mother back window. . JKiumtoh, Wis. TMM BMNTIMKNTAL SIDK OX J'AMM LIFE. Poets have song the delights of the farmer's life in strains so enchanting that one might wonder why all the world has not forsaken every other pur suit and betaken itself to the tilling of the soiL But the farmer, himself, in the unshaded hay-field, or plodding in the clayey furrow at the tail of his plow, with a free-holder's right sticking to each boot, or bending, with aching back, between the corn rows, or breasting the winter storm in the performance of im perative duties, looks at life from a different point of view. To him this life appears as full of toil and care and evil chances as that of any other toiler; and true it is, the life of an ordinary farmer is hud, with little to soften it-- too much of work, too little of play. But as true is what the poet sang so long ago: "Thrice happy are the hus bandmen if they could but see their blessings;" for they have independ ence more than any others who, by the sweat of the brow, earn their bread, and the pure air of heaven to breathe, and the blessed privilege of daily commun ion with nature. " % It is not easy for the former to see any beauty in his enemies--the meadows full of daisies, with which he is forever fighting, or by which he has been igno* miniously conquered; the encroaching ranks of golden-rod along the borders of his fields, and the bristling bayonets of those Canadian invaders, the thistles. How few farmers, or other people, for that matter, see in the climbing blushes of the dawning day, or the gorgeous painting of its close, or in the perfect day itself, anything but the foretelling of fair or foul weather; or notice the ways of any untamed birds or beasts, except that the crows come to pull the corn, the hawks to catch the chickens, the foxes to steal the lambs and turkeys! However, the farmer does feel a thrill of pleasure when, in the hazy softness of a February or March day, he hears the caw of the first carrion-seeking, hungry crow. In April, when the fields begin to show a suspicion of coming green and give forth an odor of spring, and the dingy snow-banks along the fences are daily dwindling, h ̂welcomes the carol of the first blue-bird, and is glad to hear the robin utter his restless note from the bough of the old apple- tree ; and, when he hears the plaintive cry of the grass-plover, he is sure spring has come, and then thinks of the small birds no more till the first blasts of re turning winter sweep over the bare trees and frozen fields, when, all at once, he becomes aware that the troubadours are gone. He sees that the brave little chickadee remains faithful to his post, and feels that his cheery note enlivens a little the dreariness of winter, as does the ready piping of the nut-hatch and the voice of the dowry, fuller of life than music, and the discordant rnote .of the blue jay, who, clad in a bit of sum mer sky, loudly proclaims his presence. But the singers are gone, and he misses them. •> THE FOOLISH TRAVELER, "I should like very much to hear a story," said a youth to his teacher. "I hate serious instruction; I cannot bear preaching." " Listen? then," said the teacher. "A wanderer filled his traveling pouch with savory meats and fruits, as his way would lead him across a wild desert. During the first few days he journeyed through the smiling, fertile fields. In stead of plucking the fruits which na ture offered for the refreshment, of the traveler, he found it more convenient to eat of the provisions which he carried with him. He soon reached the desert. After journeying onward for a few days his whole store of food was exhausted. He now began to wail and lament, for nowhere sprouted a blade of grass, covered with bi everything was jurnxng sand. After suffering for two days in torments of hunger and thirst he ex pired." * " It was foolish in him," iaid the youth, " to forgdDsfcfyit he had to cross the desert." " Do you act more wisely ?"i asked the teacher, in an earnest tone.i " You are setting fol-th on the journey of life, a journey that leads to eternity. Now is the time when yon should seek after knowledge and collect the treasures of wisdom, but the labor affrights you, and yon prefer to trifle away the spring time of your years amid useless and childish pleasures. Continue to act thus and you will yet, upon the journey of life, when wisdom and virtue fail you, fare like that hapless wanderer." Do you act more wisely? This is the meaning of the parable to the reader* THE DIFFERENCE* A young man who in ambitious to be come a humorist paragraphist wants to know the differeno# between the new Governor General of Canacla and a couple of young men going o a a spree at 4 a.m.? He says," One is the Mar quis of Lorne and the other V larks' of the morn." We have heard w< rse--bit not much,--2forri«fcrt<m Hera d. A TALK ABOUT WHAljRS. BY THOMAS J. ̂ BOWDITCH. / tk® whale is the monarch of the deep, and, in regard to dimensions, the monarch of creation --all nT»mni« shrink ing into insignificance when brought into comparison with hi* enormous size. The common whale seldom ex ceeds seventy feet in length, and is much more frequently under sixty. Two specimens of the rorqual or razor- back whale have been observed that measured 125 feet in length. One of these was found floating lifeless in Davis straits and the other in Columbia river. One cast on the shdre at North Berwick, Scotland, and preserved by Dr. Knox, was eighty-three feet in length. Some extravagant stories have been told in olden times in regard to the length of whales. Baxon Cuvier, the eminent naturalist, says: " There is no doubt that whales have been, at certain epochs and in certain seas, up ward of 300 feet long." The whale has long been an object of commercial pursuit, and it is surprising that so little is generally known of his natural history. Whales are warm blooded, their temperature rising very considerably above that of the surround ing water. They breathe, as does man, by lungs ; the larynx has the form of a cone, and, when the whale is breath ing, projects into the cavity of the pos terior nares, where it is met and em braced by the muscles of the palate, and thus a free passage is Opened through the nostrils from the lungs di rect to the external air, although at the same time the whole head and moutli may be under water. In order to get rid of the water which is taken into the mouth the whale per forms the act of deglutition, but at the same time closes the pharynx to prevent the passage of water beyond the neces sary point. By these means it is forced up the nasal passages, and, by a sudden contraction of the muscles about these parts, is finally expelled in a jet of water which rises to some height, and is termed " blowing." In their internal anatomy they present features of perfect agree ment with man and all mammals or quadrupeds. They have a four-cham bered heart, this being the highest tpye of heart we meet with in the animal se ries: and in respect of their brain- structure, and of other charactersistics, the whales present a close resemblance to the quadrupeds. The head of the whale is disproportionately large in compari son with the size of the body, generally being one-third, and sometimes one-half the size of the latter. The female pro duces her young alive, after a gesta tion of nine months, and they are nour ished with milk. The strong attach ment existing between the mother whale and her offspring, and the de voted protection extended by the former to the latter, are matters of Common knowledge, familiar to all who have read accounts of whaling expeditions. Instances are known where the mother whale has sacrificed her life rather than leave her young. The arrangement of the baleen or whalebone in the right whale is very peculiar. A strong, long keel runs along the center of the palate, on each side of which the plates of baleen are attached. These are long and flat, and the largest measure from ten to twelve feet in length, and are at tached to the palate by the bases, hang ing down into the mouth. From these being placed transversely their sides are parallel, and at a very small distance from each other, the base of each, as well as the outer edge, being composed of solid whalebone, while the inner edge terminates in a Aliment of fibres which fill up the whole interior of the mouth across it. The object of this is entirely owing to the arrangement of the stomach of the whale, which is so small in compari son with his great bulk that his food consists only of the small or minute ani mals, allied to jelly fishes and the like, a herring being the largest fish he can swallow. To procure his prey he is thus obliged to ̂ ngulf a whole shoal in his capacious mouth at once. The water is then strained off and poured through the Mowers, while the animal can pass his diminutive prey into the eesophagus as he requires. It may be thus seen that the whalebone plates serve as a kind of gigantic sieve or strainer. These plates generally num ber about 600. The sperm whales pos sess no whalebone plates. With an ig norance of science which is now laugh able even to our children, who know that the material for stays and hoops is taken from the mouth, the law in the time of Charles II. appropriated the tail of every whale taken by an English subject to the use of the Queen for the supply of the roypl wardrobe. The cov ering of the whale's body consists typi cally of hairs, and not of scales, although thiB body-covering is but sparsely or not at all developed. The materials for artificial ligftt and for the lubrication of machinery are now supplied from many sources, and, as the whales are becoming scarce from being so constantly hunted, the whale fishery will probably soon be given up hiff a regular branch of inidustry. Published Testimony fteI feat BcoyiWb Blood amp Lira Sraur { lar diBordfln^ryormidSb^hm! *AJaoti5tttl cares white a wetting, <Mbtmo]a£%raptiT« milk I ftdies of all kî gcmlASd^S^m l̂! moreover promotes a fceomtioii and ito bealthybiloand directs it into t •els. The deplorable ailment mercury are also remedied by sell it, , NOT lowest priced, poei*at and dear est hut highest priced, bost and oheapest; this son m Hswalin is what is claimed for the Mason tiabiaet Organ*. G&rw Jackson's Best Sweet Navy Tobaoea mi VWHINMi wmmm w alo BAanmatkm, HMdaeha. Toothache. Son IMPORTANT nonCL-fUMm, furi. 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L,L.8Uf1V Svlfl N, All others eouatovMl* §125 to S400--factory pricee-- highest honor#-- Mathushek's soala for squares--finest uprights la America--over 12,000 in me--regulatly incorporated Mfg. Co.--Pianos sent on trial--48-paae Cataloottf. frKB. Mehdelbsohn Piano Co., 21 i£. lOtu Street, K.I. $10 tO $1000 PIANOS Makes a raiik, makes custurls,pu ldings, Ac.--highly appreciated the sick. WOLRICH A CO. on label. Cheapest Toy Lantern to Best Stereopciooa MAGICS™ SO V LEWS J , Catalogue FrbbI Outfits Wanted I » Ore at Needham J THEO. J. HARBACXEt Musical Marvel. \ 809 Filbert St., Philada., Pa. A $3 Book for 30 Cents. Every Boy nnd Girl Oiurht to Have It. A valuable CHRISTMAS or V KW YK YRS present; contains historical information, telics, Ac.,of the puBt hundred yearn. Bound in handsomely iliotxai. nated cover, containing 52 pages, lull of costly engrav ings. A lar(?e premium photograph picture of all tba Presidents, from Washington down to Grunt, free with every Book. Sent postpaid to any address in the U. 8. orCanadaB f.tr ;»« cents. Agents wanted everywhere. Inclose stanijj for information. KOBGKT KEITH, Pnbllaher, 11 Wert Fiilli St., Cincinnati, O. Medicines have failed to do HINT'S REMP.DT surely does--rest-ores to health all WHO aro afflic ed with Dropqr, Bright's Disease, Kidney, Blaqanr and Urinary Diseases. MIT XT'* BRUEOY cures Diiibetes, tiravel, lnconti. nence and Retention of Urine, 111. temperance and Loss of Appetite. All Diseases of the Kidneys, Bladder and Urinary Or^ gan» are cured by Hunt's Remedy. Try Hunt's Reraedf. Send tor pamphlet to Wftt. K. CLAUKE, Providence, ft. 1. AUENTS WANTED FOR THE WHAT OTHER P HISTORT-i" WORLD It contains 672 fine historical and 12BO large double-nolumn pages, and is the sn st complete History of the World ever publishes!. It pells at il|ht> Send for specimen fages and extra terms to Agents. Address NATIONAL PUBLISHING CO., Chicago, 'I TIE SNITI 0RG1H tO. First Established t Moat Successful! THEIR INSTRUMENTS have a standard value in all the LEADING MARKETS OF THE WORLD! Everywhere reoognlaed as the FINEST IN TOMIS. O V E R 80,000 Made and In use. New Designs constantly. Best work and lowest prices j(®~ Send for a Catalogue. ' taut St, opp, Wittm St.. Boston, So, THE LIGHT-RUNNING NEW HOME Is the Best, l<ntMt Improved, nnd most TUer- ouglily Constructed SEWING MACHINE Ever invented. It is NOISFLESS, and has more POINTS of EXCEL- Ll'NCl) thai: all other Machines combined. A<r;K\TS WANTED in localities where wa are not represented. JOIIK8GN, CLARK & CO., 30 Union Square New York. Ontnn, Alius., Plttaburirli. Pa., Chicago* ' ill.. I.OIllH. Mo. CHRISTMAS CAROLS. g3.fc£"£SS Christmas Music. We recommend: Dreetler's ChrlKt nttts Chime* {20 <'t«.), 29 beautliul and easy Anthems, or H ivraril'< Ten Chri'tmiu Curat* (20 era.), or Howard's Eleven C irUt. •u;i. v .t nriv (aii cti.i. Of vui l.i•ii..'* Yt.iees (IScts.). 15 Carols by Wat«»bury; or (>:iri«tnias fi 'leetioiis ($4 per hundred), containing Five ohoioe piee >s. A v ilunld i book is ClirlNtnsas Curols, Old and New (40 cts.); also, 19U other Single Cjh-oIk (5 to 10 cte.j. Church Offering has 6 Christmas Anthemsaoti also a complete set of Anthems and Chants for all the fiastivalB and Services of the year. A flae book. f a Noel. ̂ The Sohool Song Book 1 £ exoellent book for Girls' High or Normal Schools, or tor Seminaries. Good instructions and vary goodmuaio. Bnliven yonr fingers for Chrtotmas plnrtngby pra*- ticlng MASOX'S PIANOFORTE TECHTViO* ($8.50), the b«st finger Gymnaaium known. V Any book mailed, post-free, fer the abovs pricM. OLIVER DITSOX & CO., Boston. ci * an i I CtH.DItson&C** r.* *•: •I. B. Dltsen Co.* m* Otasstuat St. FUta. •• aj :p • " '•If ̂-= y' ^ ; J® u . r I * r ^ X 4 * ? v; .. .4 • mm > 4