JOHNSON & STOKES, SEED GROWERS, PHILADELPHIA.
[Illustration: SNOW WHITE FLOUR MADE FROM IMPERIAL SPRING 46 B PER ACRE SALZER’S NEW WHEAT.]
No Seeds produce more beautiful Flowers, finer vegetables, larger crops, than our RELIABLE NORTHERN CROWN SEEDS. Don’t buy worthless Seeds when for less money ours are delivered FREE BY MAIL at your door.
New tested Wheat [5 sorts] among these Saskatchewan Fife and Imperial French Seeds grown 800 miles north of here! Everything for farm. Wis., Ill., Iowa and other States will return to old time yield if our Seed Grain is used. Try it.
[Illustration: J. A. SALZER, La Crosse, Wis.]
THE STANDARD REMINGTON TYPE-WRITER is acknowledged to be the only rapid and reliable writing machine. It has no rival. These machines are used for transcribing and general correspondence in every part of the globe, doing their work in almost every language. Any young man or woman of ordinary ability, having a practical knowledge of the use of this machine may find constant and remunerative employment. All machines and supplies, furnished by us, warranted. Satisfaction guaranteed or money refunded. Send for circulars. WYCKOFF, SEAMANS & BENEDICT, 38 East Madison St., Chicago, Ill.
Have you heard of the valley of Babyland, The realm where the dear little darlings stay, Till the kind storks go, as all men know, And oh, so tenderly bring them away? The paths are winding and past all finding By all save the storks, who understand The gates and the highways and the intricate byways That lead to Babyland.
All over the valley of Babyland Sweet flowers bloom in the soft green moss. And under the blooms fair, and under the leaves there, Lie little heads like spools of floss. With a soothing number, the river of slumber Flows o’er a bed of silver sand, And angels are keeping watch o’er the sleeping Babes of Babyland.
The path to the valley of Babyland Only the kingly, kind white storks know. If they fly over mountains or wade thro’ fountains— No man sees them come and go; But an angel, maybe, who guards some baby, Or a fairy, perhaps, with her magic wand, Brings them straightway to the wonderful gateway, That leads to Babyland.
And there in the valley of Babyland Under the mosses and leaves and ferns, Like an unfledged starling they find the darling, For whom the heart of a mother yearns. And they lift him lightly and tuck him tightly In feathers as soft as a lady’s hand, And off with a rock-a-way step they walk away Out of Babyland.