Democratic watchman. (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1855-1940, December 25, 1896, Image 10

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The wise men came out of the east,
Following the beautiful star,
And the camels they rode
Were weighed down with their load
Of spices and gold from afar.
They came to Jerusalem'’s gate,
And a message to Herod dispatched
Saying, ‘‘Tell us the news
Of the King of the Jews, :
Whose wonderful birth star we've watched.”
King Herod sprang up in alarm,
And the seventy summoned at morn,
And demanded of tiem.
«(0 King, Bethlehem,"
They replied, ‘is where Christ shall be born.”
Half way up the slope of the moun-
tain, at the edge of the timber line, was
a forlorn group of cabins, perhaps a
dozen in all, grouped around a some-
what larger shanty, called by courtesy
a ‘‘hotel.” In truth, it was the ever
present whisky dive, carrying as a mat-
ter of accommodation a side lino of such
absolutely necessary articles as the
primitive character cf living in those
solitude called for, and rejoicing in a
spare room for the uso of a chance pros-
pector. Business in any of its branches
was not brisk in the winter time. All
but three or four of the cabins were
empty then, and the population was
shifting ard uncertain at any time of
year. But Black Pete and his half breed
wife tranquilly held on their way,
while prospectors came and went, find-
ing their ‘‘hotel’”’ a surer source of in-
come than running frantic races after
and around them was supposed to be
rich in ore of various kinds, but of all
the desperate, feverish men who climb-
ed those lonely heights in search of the
secrets locked in nature’s calm bosom
few had any luck. Once in awhile a
shallow vein of silver had been struck,
but not excugh to justify sinking a
shaft. They had kept coming, however,
refusing to believe that the abundant
signs of mineral wealth which Dame
Naturo cunningly spread on every side
could mean nothing.
And luck had tarned at last. Two
men, partners, had in the late fall lo-
cated a rich vein and staked out a con-
siderable claim. They had begun work
on it, but finally decided to wait till
spring before going farther. The camp
all agreed that the find was a sure thing
this time, and tho stream of men hop-
ing to find similar luck had given Black
Peto a great run of custom till winter
set in.
In one of tho cutmesi cabins a man
stcod in his open dcor gazing forth in-
to the thick yellow gloom of the Decem-
ber twilight. He was rather slight in
build, thin and discontented looking.
His light brown beard was cropped rath-
er short, and his blue eyes held a world
of sadness. He gazed moodily down the
white, still side of the mountain and
shuddered as the soughing of the pines
wailed in his ears. Then he banged the
«door and stormed angrily to himself,
kicking over the few articles of furni-
ture in the room. The quiet was exas-
¢“I shall go stark mad in this hateful
hole. Christmas! Heavens! And a man
can’t escape from it. If I could make
myself believe it was any other day! If
I could dio just now, which I can’t—
I'd as soon bo in purgatory as here. I
won’t stay here. Better that drunken,
gambling mob dowr at the station. It
don’t matter much; I ain’t got anything
left to be decent for.”’ He bowed his
head, with asharp groan, as he said this,
but a moment later he was pulling on
his fur coat and leggings, and his face
carried its usual half sad, half defiant
Silent Bill his limited circle of ac-
quaintances called him. He was not
really popular among the rough set that
assembled at Black Pete’s. But, on the
other hand, he was not disliked. He
‘didn’t put on airs,’”’ and it was his
own business what he was or where he
came from, according to the unwritten
etiquette of the west, where a man has
a right to tell his name or not, as suits
him. It was even possible that he might
be an escaped convict, but that, too,
was his own business. But little as Si-
lent Bill liked his companions in soli-
tude in return, it was deadly dull when
most of them left in tho winter for more
lively places. Even his ‘‘pard’’ was
gone. To ke sure, he had urged Silent
Bill to accompany him when ho set out
for Denver, but the effort was of no
‘“Ye'll be a stark luny by spring,
Bill,” he protested.
““I hope 80,’’ was the grim reply. But
a fortnight of loneliness had made him
desperate. It gave him too much time
to think, and he felt that any company
was preferable to this maddening si-
lence. :
‘“Whar yc p’inting fur?’ called
Black Pete as he halted a moment at
the hotel.
‘‘Goodby, Pete,’
smile. ‘‘You're too still here.
for the station.’”’ Pete’s face fell.
more customer gone.
‘I'll be back in a few days. Hello,
Mrs. Pete!” as the woman stuck her
head out of the door, disappointment in
her little, beady, black eyes. ‘‘Take a
Christmas present, won’t you? I shan’t
be back in time to bring you one.’’ He
tossed a goldpiece toward her, and as
she caught it her sullen expression
changed to a hideous grin of delight.
Silent Bill struck a foot trail straight
down through the underbrush and rocks.
It was nearcr to the station than by the
half broken road over which Black Pete
hauled his supplies. And while he went
swiftly on his way in the fast falling
night, filled with unutterable thoughts
of rebellion and bitterness, a nonde-
script vehicle, tugged by two sullen
bronchos, was toiling up that snow
choked road, bearing Christmas and
paradise to him, and he knew it not.
The heavy wheels creaked and groaned
through the snow, and the driver used
he said with a
I’m off
The ground under their feet,
explotives as freely as he dared, consid-
ering his freight, for beside a great
trunk which served him for a seat there
gat on a packing box, well wrapped in
furs, a young, beautiful and well dress-
ed woman, holding close in her arms a
2-year-old ‘boy. The like cf them had
never astonished the vicinity before.
Therefore Bob Mahaffy drew sparingly
on his vocabulary and cracked his whip
with unusual force to explain his mean-
ing to the bronchos. Once in a while a
sleepy, cross little wail broke on his
ears, and, to save him, he could not
help turning sideways to catch a
glimpse of a little yellow head cuddled
to its mother’s breast.
The lady did not speak during the
entire ride. Her face was very pale and
rigid when at last they stopped at the
“hotel.” Through the open door, as
Pete hurried out, came a blur of light
and a wrangle of voices. It was aston-
ishing how much noise the fow worthies
who frequented Black Pete’s could
make, perhaps to defy the eternal still-
ness of the mountain. The lady shrank
back with an added pallor, yet in her
eyes shone dauntless courage.
‘‘Whar’s Silent Bill?’ shouted the
¢‘Roosts down in the last shanty, but
he’s p’inted fer the station to hev his
Christmas with ther boys. Jes’ gone.”’
¢‘Oh, when will he come back?'’ ask-
ed the lady, with a breathless gasp. Pete
started. He had not made out the pas-
sengers before, though he had been vain-
ly peering into the darkness. His husky
voice took on, or tried to, a softer tone,
and he came eagerly to the edge of the
‘‘He’ll be in town in a few days,
ma’am. No—blame it—he’ll be hyar at
onct. Bob kin go right back and tell
’im. Air ye lookin fer ’im, ma’am?’’
‘‘I am his wife,”’ she said faintly.
‘‘No! He know ye was comin?’
“No. ” >
‘Waal, that’s too darn bad. But you
jes’ come right in, an we’ll have ’im
hyar ‘fore ye wake up in the mornin.’’
She half rose in the wagen and then
sank back, overcome by a fainting sen-
sation. How long—how much longer,
could she be brave? She fought down
her weakness in the moment of silence
and girded up her weary nerves to enter
that noisome room. But before she
reached the door the noise was hushed,
and she passed, with her baby, through
the startled group like an apparition of
tho Madonna and the Child. Every head
was stretched out to catch a glimpse of
the sleeping baby. Even Mrs. Pete’s
hard face softened as she took him in
her arms, and she bustled about in her
heavy fashion to make thcm comfort-
The lady revived somewhat after a
cup of coffec and the kindly mcant if
somewhat rough hospitality and as
soon as possible went to bed.
Meanwhile the group in the barroom
were quenching their thirst and their
curiosity at the same time, for Bob
Mahaffy staid for refreshments, and
indced staid so long that he was in
no condition to drive back that night,
and so staid till morning. And he
gave minute details of the landing of
the lady and child at the station, all of
which was welcome as ehade in the des-
ert to the news starved loungers.
Above in the little attic room Mrs.
John Allison dropped to sleep after a
long struggle with disappointment and
nervousness. The sun was already high
in the winter sky when she awoke. She
was sad, but still her own brave self
again, and quivering with the hope that
her long, weary search would be ended
today. After a hasty breakfast she left
the baby, still sleeping, with the half
breed woman and asked Black Pete to
show her the way to Silent Bill’s cabin.
The crisp, bright air raised her spirits
and did her good, and she forgot to be
shy of Pete, who was agonizing in his
endeavors to be civilized and polite.
Her plans were scon matured and in
operation. Action was imperative now
or she could not stand the suspense; so
Mrs. Pete and a man from the hotel set
to work under her orders. The heavy
box contained some materials for the
renovation, which, though meager, were
riches to her now. She had known some-
thing of the condition of things which
she should be likely to find and had
done the best she could to prepare for it.
It was an astonished cabin, that hard-
ly knew itself, late that afternoon.
When all was done, the kindly helpers
had left her, at her own request, and
she gave one more comprehensive look
about, well pleased with the -result.
First it was clean. That was the most
astonishing thing. She had brought a
quantity of pretty chintz and red calico.
The bed, made of pine posts, was cur-
tained off from the room. She had made
inroads into Pete’s stock of baled hay
for ticks and pillows, and her box had
furnished linen and quilts. The hard
bunk had been draped with chintz and
made into the softest couch for baby
that the means at hand could provide.
A rude but artistic mantel over the fire-
place held some pictures and a little
clock, ticking away as cheerily as in the |
New England home from which it came.
There was a broad, red lounge with cush-
ions in one corner and a big armchair—
a wonder of contrivance, with calico
concealing its dry goods box origin.
Other boxes bloomed forth as cupboards
and bookcase. The old table was cover-
ed with a crimson spread and had a
hanging lamp above it. There were
shades and white curtains at the win-
dows. The floor was scoured and had
rugs laid down, some of bearskins and
some that she had brought with her.
She had obtained a number of bright
hued blankets of Pete, with which she
had draped the rude walls wherever pos-
sible, and pine boughs and sprigs of ev-
ergreen were everywhere in honor of the
Christmas she Lad come so far to keep.
There were books and papers in plenty.
Her cupboard had an abundance of food
in it, and to the eyes of the admiring
inhabitants at Black Pete’s the place
wus a bower of luxury. But when at
last she was alone the sickening fear
which had dogged her all day overcame
her, for Jack had not come. What if
he did not want to see her What depths
of shame and anguish had not been
opened to her?
‘Then her eyes fell on a small wooden
box, still unpacked, which she had
brought with her. She broke into hys-
terical langhter. What a fond fool she
had been, for in that box was a Christ-
mas turkey, ready roasted, which she
had bought the day befere in Denver!
What crazy ideas had filled her brain
that she could descend on him with
peace and plenty, just as if he were ex-
pecting her! ‘Forgiveness in one hand
and a turkey in the other,” she cried
between her bursts of laughter. Then
the anguish of the whole thing was
borne in cn her again, and she turned
from her laughter to sobs till the baby
pulled at her dress in alarm and added
his wail to hers,
She caught the boy in her arms—the
hry he had never seen. Surely his heart
could not hold out against his son.
“Never mind, baby darling,”’ she
cried softly; ‘‘he’s got to come some
time, and we'll have everything ready
for him so.”’
She unpacked the turkey and put it
in a cold place. The baby eyes followed
it longingly, and ever and anon he
piped out:
“ Mamma, div boy some schicken.’',
‘Tomorrow, tomorrow, boy,’’ she an-
swers gayly, for she can’t bear to see
his face, her only sun, cloud over. She
diverts him at last, though he is hun-
gry and sleepy, and—1last touch of satire
—hangs up his stocking. It had been
part of her plan.
How she lived through that long lone-
ly evening she never could realize after-
ward. It seemed as if the concentrated
misery of almost three years rent and
crushed her soul as she sat there before
the fire waiting. It grew to be 9 o’clock
—10—11. And «still she sat and listened
—Ilistened, fearing not the strange and
unaccustomed sounds about her, but lis-
tening ever for a step at the door. Half
past 11. She had fallen into a doze,
when there was a sound, and she sprang
from her chair,
* * * * * *
Down at the station Silent Bill had
passed a day utterly revolting to his
tenacious better nature. It was a small
town and more brutally degraded than
most of the camps of the west. People
who expected any good never came
there. A missionary had tried it once
or twice and had been obliged to leave,
sadly, with no goed accomplished that
he could see.
When Silent Bill had reached there,
he had felt a deliberate, reckless long-
ing to efface himself as the man he had
known. He almost felt that in coming
there he had entered into sgme compact
with the devil, but he could not throw
off the training and traditions of his
life in a day. Misfortune, not crime,
had made him a wanderer on the face
of the earth, and, in the midst of the
debauchery in which he had placed him-
self, his conscience and tastes uttered
continual protest. Before morning dawn-
ed he had lost in gambling every cent
of the $300 which he had brought with
him. He never left the table at which
he first seated himself till it was gone.
He did not greatly care whether he won
or not. He was playing for the fierce
fever of the game and stimulated his
interest by hard drinking. He was not
used to this, and never knew how he
got to bed, or whether he had lost his
money fairly or had it stolen from him.
But when he woke late next morning
his whole soul was protesting against
his degradation. He could not endure
it, and as soon as he could he drank
more whisky. He had no trouble in get-
ting trusted. Was he not the man who
had discovered the Poor Man’s Luck?
And before night he had won back half
as much money as he had lost. He did
not lose his head again. He did not
‘mean to. He drank only enough to kecp
his odious conscience from stinging him
too deeply. :
And all this time Bob Mahaffy was
lying unconscious in the corner of a sa-
loon, his message untold. And up the
mountain, in the lonely cabin, a woman
was eating her heart out with anxiety
and fear.
It was night again, the night before
Christmas, when Mahaffy emerged from
his corner and partially from his stu-
por. And finally he ran against Silent
Bill in the shadow of a building. As he
righted himself after the collision he
stood and stared at Silent Bill.
“D——d poor taste,’’ he said at last
thickly, ‘‘when a man’s got pretty wife
waitin fer ’im to home. Why doncha
go home?’’
Silent Bill looked at Bob fiercely,
with his hands clinched and the veins
standing ont on his face.
“You brute, how dare you speak like
that to me? What d’ye mean?”’
Mabhaffy slid back a couple of steps
and tried to assume an air of dignity.
“Be’r look out, Bill, 'n not trifle wi’
me. Mean wha' say. Why doncha go
home? I jes’ gobback. Pete tol me t’
tell ye.”’
Something in his tipsy gravity sober-
ed Bill a little. He seized the other by
his shoulders and shook him. “If you
don’t tell me what you mean,’’ he said
sternly, ‘I'll choke your d——d breath
out.”” Mahaffy tried to strike him, but
did not succeed.
“Go home to yer wife,’”’ he snarled.
‘‘She’s to Pete's. I took her. Now lem-
me lone. ’’ : .
* * * #* * *
John Allison turned as if he were
shot and plunged on his homeward way.
There ig no other word for it. He only
half believed Mahaffy. He asked him-
self why he should hurry to meet the
woman who had not trusted him, who
had not cared to write the few words
which would have held them together?
He kept muttering that there was uo
hurry about it. If she was there, she
could wait. He had waited. It was late
in the day to come to him now. And all
the time he was fleeing as if for his life
up the rough mountain side.
He reached the camp at last, near his |
old cabin, and dropped exhausted on the |
snow for a few moments. He was afraid
now that she was not there, and mixed |
swith that fear was an intolerable sense |
that if she were he could not forgive
China Hall.
China Hall.
DAINTIER than ever is our Stock of China Ware.
We have some elegant selections for the Holiday Season. Just What You Want for a Christmas Present. Come and
see the finest display in Centre county.
her at sight for her fancied fault.
Strange that he could cherish bitterness
at such a moment, when paradise was
opening to him, but in spite of his effort
to smother it the grievance of years
would not down.
‘¢‘At Pete’s,”’ Mahaffy had said. He
would go to the cabin first and rest and
consider. His haste had changed to a
nervous timidity. The shaded windows
still gave a hint of light within, but he
did not notice it. He flung open the
door and as it closed bchind him stag-
gered up against it. What dream, what
vision of a maddened brain was this?
The hovel which he had left, dark and
mean and desolate, was changed into a
home. The blazing logs in the fireplace
sent out a glow that brightened every
corner of the room. The bits of crimson
color, the books, the comfort, the Christ-
mas greens, and, ah, the little figure in
the red armchair by the fire that starts
up in alarm and then springs toward
him with arms outstretched—it is not a
She cannot speak at first. She waits
to hear his voice, but his look chills her,
and her arms drop.
‘‘Jack,’’ she murmured at last desper-
ately, ‘‘aren’t you glad tosee me? Don’$
you care for me any more?’’
He takes a step toward her.
“This is an unexpected pleasure,’’ he
says huskily, yet with a chilling inflec-
you to associate with.’’
She trembles so that she cannot stand
and sinks back into the chair. He comes
nearer, his eyes devouring her like a
flame, his face working convulsively, but
she does not know that he is fighting
with all his pitiful pride the mad de-
sire to clasp her in his arms. Her voice
is cold and controlled when slie speaks.
“This is indeed a fit welcome to the
wife you deserted, and yet she has been
only truce to you. I never doubted your
innocence, never rested till your name
was cleared of all stain. I have suffered
and toiled and sought for you all these
years, and this is my reward. ’’
Her quiet words, her listless attitude,
bore conviction to him, and self re-
proach welled up in his heart.
‘‘Margaret,’’ he said more pleadingly,
‘“‘swwhy didn’t you write to me? It would
have made so much difference when, I
was wild with misery and begged of
you to believe me, and I had never a
word from you. Maybe I was a coward
to run away—but I couldn't stay and be
dragged through the mire of ascandal.’’ |
‘“No,’’ she said bitterly, ‘‘but you
could leave me to be dragged through
it. And I wrote to you, Jack, several
times, and got no reply. Yet,’' more
kindly, ‘I did not accuse you and hate
you, as you have done by me. I have
worked hard to support myself, to clear
your name, to find you; for I believed
in you still. Only three months ago my
detective found the right clew, and I
have journeyed in search of you ever
since. I could not start sooner ;I had no
money and—there were other reasons. ’’
Her face flushed a little here, -but her
tone and attitude were still wearily in-
diffcrent. She felt as if her heartstrings
had broken. Even if he believed her
now she could not be happy. The strain
and disappointment had been too great.
‘‘I will go back again,’’ she contin-
ued. But she did not know herself.
The next instant there was a wildly re-
pentant man at her feet. Overwhelmed
—by the sin of his previous injustice to
her and by his great unworthiness, he
abased himself to the depths. He poured
out his love, his misery, his remorse,
with sobs that he could not control. The
revulsion of feeling was like a flood, !
sweeping everything beforo it. Be dared
‘It has taken you a long time to
make up your mind that I was fit for
High Street
New Advertisements.
Every Day Excursions.
To all parts of the world can be arranged for
any day in the year, for one or more persons, up-
on application to any principal ticket agent of the
Chicago, Milwaukee & St. Paul railway. Itinera-
ries carefully prepared for excursions to Califor-
nia, Florida, Mexico, China, Japan, and to any
part of Europe. Estimates furnished, including
all expenses. Tickets furnished for the complete
journey. It is not necessary to wait for any so-
called “Personally Conducted Excursions.” In
these days of progressive enlightenment, with
the English language spoken in every land under
the sun, one does not need to depend upon the
alone or in small family parties, with great com-
fort and security, and at one’s own convenience.
Write to John R. Pott, district passenger agent,
| Chicago, Milwaukee & St. Paul railway Williams-
port, Pa., for details if you are contemplating a
trip. 41-48-3t.
New Advertisements.
holders of the Bellefonte and Clearfield
Railroad Company will be held at the company’s
general office, in Bush’s Arcade, Bellefonte, Pa.,
on Monday, January 11, 1897, at eleven o'clock. A
M., for the election of officers for the ensuing
year, and the transaction of other business.
4151 1t L. T. MUNSON, Secretary.
When you know a good thing tell it
It will not lessen its goodness.
But will do good to others.
If you've been cured, tell it.
There's more misery just like it.
Waiting to find out how.
There are lots of lame backs in Bellefonte.
It’s a bust place and backs are used.
There's urinary troubles to a large extent.
Ever notice how many people over forty
complain ?
Seven out of ten, say colds affect their kid-
The kidneys are the cause ; not the colds.
Keep them in shape and life is life.
You can do it easily and pleasantly.
No nauseating disturbances.
No effect except on the kidneys.
But that effect is Shik and permanent.
Doan’s Kidney Pills do perfect work.
Bellefonte is full of their praises.
Mr. Geo. Gross of Water street states :—*‘I have
i had kidney and bladder trouble for ten years.
About that time I hurt the lower part of my back
and while I am not certain that was the real cause
of my complaint, I do know that it has been grow-
ing worse and worse year after year. Talk about
suffering. If you want backache and stitches and
sharp shooting’ pains that I believe would cause
death if protracted, just get a good dose of kidney
complaint. And if that was not enough for any
ordinary man to put up with frequent urination
with a burning or scalding sensation accompany-
ing it was added to torment the existence out of
| me. It seemed as if I never would get rid of it
{ and I don't believe I ever would if I had not got a
box of Doan’s Kidney Pills at Green's drug store.
The old Quaker remedy cured me, at least I have
had no return of my old complaint and I hope I
never will. I can recommend Doan’s Kidney
Pills and take great pleasure in doing so for I
know if other men try them, afflicted like I was,
they will obtain the same results.”
For sale by all dealers. Price 50 cents. Sent
by mail on receipt of price by Foster-Milburn Co.,
Buffalo, N, Y., sole agents for the United States.
It will cure Croup in three (3) doses,
and is a preventive for Diphtheria,
Croup, Ete. Also cures all forms of
Sore Mouth and Sore Gums.
Water Street,
not even touch her with his unworthy
hands, but he kissed her feet.
heart was not broken. It was giving
great throbs of joy. What did anything
matter if he still loved her? She raised
his bowed head and pressed it against
her breast.
A few moments later, as the stroke of |
the little clock on the chimney shelf had |
just ushered in Christmas day, into a
moment of peaceful silence dropped a
little sleepy, piping voice from the bed:
“Mamma, div boy some schicken
now.’’ a
. Jack Allison started to his feet.
Something choked him so that he could |
not speak. His wife ran to the bed,
where the baby was sitting ap, blinking
sleepily, his yellow hair all in a fuzz
about his head.
‘‘Come here, Jack,’’ she said shyly.
“Oh, Margaret, I didn’t know!’ was |
all he could say as he knelt by the bed
and gazed reverently on the chubby face
of his firstborn. :
‘Unto us,’”’ murmured Margaret ten-
derly, ‘‘a son is given.”’
So Christmas found Silent Bill.—
Mrs, Paxton Duard in Romance.
Spain's National Dishesy
Two epecial dishes mark the Christ-
mas dinner of Spain—almond soup, ob-
tained by boiling sweet almonds in
milk and passing them through a sieve,
and, above all, a dish called besugo,
which is.nothing more than a large
goldfish garnished with lemon, chopped
garlic and oil and roasted before the
Christmas Greens.
The leaves proper to use in Christmas
decorations are those of the holly, bay,
1iistletoe, laurel and rosemary.
——Subseribe for the WATCHMAN.
And her ,
| 41423m* , -
services of guides for sight-seeing, but can go it !
INuminating Oil.
EGISTER’S NOTICE.—The followin;
accounts have been examined, io
and filed of record in the Register’s office for the
inspection of heirs and legatees, creditors and all
others in anywise interested, and will be present-
ed to the orphans’ Court of Centre county for con-
firmation on Wednesday, the 25th day of Jan-
uary, A. D. 1897. i
1 The first and final account of George P Hall,
administrator of, ete., of Robert A Hall, late of
Union township, deceased.
2 The second partial account-of Geo W Jack-
som, surviving executor and trustee, under the
last will and testament of Thos R Reynolds, late
of Bellefonte Boro, decd.
3 The third partial account of Geo W Jack-
son, surviving executor and trustee, under the
last will and testament of Thos R Reynolds, late
of Bellefonte Boro, deceased.
4 The fourth partial account of Geo W Jack-
son, surviving executor and trustee, under the
last will and testament of Thomas R Reynolds
late of Bellefonte Boro, dec'd. ’
5 First and final account of Edward T Tuten,
administrator of ect, of Maria P Tuten, late of
Bellefonte Boro, dec’d.
6 First and final accountof Edith S Vonada,
administratrix of, etc, of George W. Vonada, late
of Gregg township.
. 7 Firstand final account of J C Snyder, admin-
istrator of, etc, of Benj F Snyder, late of Boggs
township, deceased,
8 First and final account of Sam’l G Rider,
admr, of, ete, of John W Rider, late of Ferguson
township, dec'd.
9 Account of John H Miller, administrator of,
as “il Geo Eckel, late of Ferguson township
10 First and final account of E B Peters, trus-
tee to sell real estate of Hannah Resides, late of
Benner township, deceased.
11 The account of Geo 8S Gray, executor of, ete,
o Oitharine Gray, late of Half Moon township,
12 The account of Emma R Rachau, sole sur-
viving executrix of, ete, of Israel Vonada, late of
Gregg township, dec'd.
. 13 The final account of John H Leech, admin-
istrator of, etc, of W W Leech, late of Harris
townshlp, dec'd. .
14 Second and final account of W J Carlin, ad-
ministrator of, etc, of F P Vonada, late of Miles
township, dec’d.
15 First and final account of Maggie B Gates,
administratrix of, ete, of John C Gates, late of
Ferguson township, dec’d.
16 The final account of W H Musser,
dian of Lydia L Gregg, - minor child of
Gregg, late of Boggs township, dec’d.
17 First and final account of W S Sellers ex-
ecutor of, ete,’ of Davis Sellers, late of Patton
township, dec’d.
18 The firstand final account of Wm T Leath-
ers, Jr., and A H Leathers, executors of, etc, of J
B Leathers, late of Howard township, dec'd.
19 First and finale account of Wm S Gra
executor of, ete, of Maria Meek, late of Half
Moon township, dec’d.
20 The firstand final account of H W Harsh-
berger admr. D B N of, etc, of Warren S Lucas,
late of Curtin township, deceased.
Bellefonte, Dec. 23, 1896, Register.
Saddlery. .
5000 $5,000 $5,000
All combined in an immense Stock of Fine
To-day Prices
have Dropped
AE POR———————
" ———Z=====———THE BOOKLET ON “LIGHT "===
Orem AN Dore
—— —
For Sale by The Atlantic Refining Company.
An Account of his campaign tour
All who are interested in furthering the sale of HON. W. J. BRYAN'S NEW BOOK should cor-
respond immediately with the publishers. The work will contain
His biography, written by his wife.
His mest important speeches.
The results of the campaign of 1896.
A review of the political situation.
Mr. Bryan has announced his intention of devoting one-half of all royalties to furthering the
cause of bimetallism. There are already indications of an enormous sale. Address
W. B. CONKEY COMPANY, Publishers,
341-351 Dearborn St...... CHICAGO.