and brainiest man who saved the most money. He compared the laborer with the chipmunk, saying that when a boy he had often chased a chipmunk into his hole and dug him out, and that he always found him well supplied with nuts, grain and plenty of food for the winter. Although this small, industrious animal possessed but little brain, he had the wisdom of providing for a rainy day; and that he had also noted that the cunning hawk and the wise old eagle, who are a hundred times sharper than the foolish chipmunk, when they wanted anything to eat they knew right where to find it and usually gobbled it up. They were like the lawyer and the professional man. This is the same rule with most people; it is not the wise and brainy ones who accumulate wealth; it is the common, frugal and industrial ones who own their homes and have money in the bank.

A business man will willingly pay $400 or $500 for a sealskin coat for his wife and consider it a good investment, and thinks he has done something; but if he pays $50.00 for a fine overcoat for himself, he considers it EXTRAVAGANT. A five-dollar bill will buy him a good Stetson hat that, with care and little repairs, will last four or five years, while the wife pays $30.00 for a picture hat which goes out of style in ninety days. Thirty big dollars for a ninety-day hat, the cost of which is less than five dollars, composed of a few flowers and feathers,

set upon a pin and stuck upon a silly head just for style.

Fond pride of dress is sure a very curse!

Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse.

Just think, if properly invested, what thirty big dollars will buy. Thirty dollars will buy two big loads of hay of 2,000 pounds each, which will feed a work mule six months.

Thirty dollars will buy six or eight tons of coal, which will heat a ten-room house all winter.

Thirty dollars will buy six or seven barrels of Pillsbury's Best Flour, which will feed a family of seven or eight people one whole year.

Thirty dollars will buy 100 fine chickens, that will, with a little feeding, supply the table with poultry and fresh eggs, and purchase all the coffee, tea and sugar required.

Thirty dollars will buy a good sewing machine, with which a woman can earn a good living.

Thirty dollars will buy a good typewriter, with which a lady can earn $18 to $20 per week.

Thirty dollars will buy a fine little Jersey cow, which, with a little care, will supply a whole family with all the pure milk, cream and butter they wish.

When thirty dollars will buy and pay for any one of the above, who on earth but a foolish and extravagant woman would expend so much money on a ninety-day hat?

In paying out money, it should be with most people as it was with the Irishman who went into a hardware store to buy a scythe. After the merchant had wrapped it up and rung up his purchase, he showed him a bicycle which had just come into fashion. "What is that?" asked Pat. "It is a bicycle," said the owner. "What's it for?" said Pat. "I will show you," said the merchant; and, straddling the wheel, he rode all around the store. "Now," said the merchant, "if you had one of those things you could ride all around your farm." Pat smiled and asked, "How much for the critter?" "Sixty dollars," said the owner. "Sixty dollars!" says Pat, "I can buy two good cows for sixty dollars." "Now, see here," said the merchant, "you would look nice riding around the city on a cow, would you not, Pat?" "Well," said Pat, "I think I would look as good as you would trying to MILK ONE OF THEM THINGS," pointing to the wheel.

There lives on the South Side a middle-aged couple who occupy a steam-heated flat, for which they pay $40 or $45 per month. Those people are friends of ours, a very nice pair, and a fair specimen of American extravagance. Comparatively speaking, they are poor people, having no property, nothing but his salary, which amounts to about $2,000 per year, which barely carries them through. Before they were married (which is not

very long), the wife acted as saleslady in one of our downtown stores. This man has passed the forty-year mark, the age when most of our large corporations consider a man a back number. Every morning of the year except Sundays he is down town at his desk at seven o'clock and works until seven each evening. Nearly every Sunday he puts in at least one-half to three-quarters of a day. A few years ago his health broke down from overwork and his company advised a month's vacation, giving them both free transportation to California. When they went they took with them $500 or $600, all the money he had saved up when single. It took them just thirty days to burn it up. After they returned home, the wife, in speaking of their trip to her lady friends, and the places they had visited, said they paid $10 and $12 per day at fashionable hotels, to the envy of those who listened. It is beyond my comprehension; I cannot understand such people. Five hundred dollars would have purchased them the title to a snug little home, and three or four years' rent would have paid off the balance.

A few years ago I made the same trip, traveling on a tourist ticket, and met a party of splendid people, taking my meals at railroad lunch counters, just about as cheap as I could in Chicago. On my way I saw and enjoyed the scenery just as much as JOHN D. ROCKEFELLER or COUNT DE

CASTELLANE Could have done had they gone over the same route. When our train reached Los Angeles there was waiting in front of the depot a free bus, and the runner announced that his was a dollar-per-day house. As the bus was cheaper than carfare, I boarded the same, concluding that if the house was in keeping with the equipage, I would be perfectly satisfied. When we reached the hotel, which was a new, six-story brick building, located on one of the main streets, in fact, right in the heart of the business district, I was surprised to find the office and the rotunda had tile flooring and was fully in keeping with our Palmer House in Chicago. After registering, I was escorted to my room by elevator, which was on the third floor, steam-heated, well furnished, and a good, clean bed. This room cost fifty cents per night or $2.50 per week, or went for twentyfive cents by taking my meals at $1 per day. When dinner time came, to my surprise, the dining-room was an extra large and airy one, and ran through to the side street. The tables accommodated six people each, and the linen, dishes and silverware were as good as one would find in any first-class place. Apples, pears, grapes and all kinds of fruit were stacked up free. The order consisted of two or three kinds of meat and eggs, several kinds of vegetables, and everything any man could wish, followed by two or three kinds of dessert. All of