( — Colleges & Schools. IF YOU WISH TO BECOME. A Chemist, A Teacher, An Engineer, A Lawyer, An Electrician, A Physician, A Scientic Farmer, A Journalist, n short, if you wish to secure a training that will fit you well for any honorable pursuii in life, THE PENNSYLVANIA STATE COLLEGE OFFERS EXCEPTIONAL ADVANTAGES. TUITION IS FREE IN ALL COURSES. TAKING EFFECT IN SEPT. 1900, the General Courses have been extensively modified, so as to fur- pish a much more varied range of electives, ing History ; the English, French, German tures ; Psychology; Ethics, Pedagogies, an after the Freshman Jean than heretofore, includ- Spanish, Latin and Greek Languages and Litera- olitical Science. These courses are especially adapted to the wants of those who seek either the most thorough training for the Profession i r a general College Education. 1 The aan] ¢ lel , Civil, Electrical, Mechanical and Mining Engineering are among the very best in the United States. Graduates have no difficulty in securing and holding positions. YOUNG WOMEN are admitted to all courses on the same terms as Young Men. THE WINTER SESSION anens January 7th 1903. For specimen examination or study, acs ete., and showing positions held 25-27 pers or for catalogue giving full information repsecting courses of by graduates, address THE REGISTRAR, State College, Centre County, Pa, Coal and Wood. K>v4r0 K. RHOADS. Shipping and Commission Merchant, see DEALER [N= ANTHRACITE aNp BITUMINOUS {coars| ——CORN EARS, SHELLED CORN, OATS,— snd other grains. —BALED HAY and STRAW— BUILDERS and PLASTERERS’ SAND KINDLING WOOD——— oy the bunch or cord as may suit purchasers. ectfully solicits the patronage of his Resp oo and the public, at wane § Central 1312. Telephone Calls § Gommercial 682. aear the Passenger Station. 86-18 Prospectus. NEw AND OPINIONS —_— OF — NATIONAL IMPORTANCE —~THE SUN- ALONE CONTAINS BOTIL. Daily, by mail, - - $6 a year Daily and Sunday, by mail, - $8a year. THE SUNDAY SUN is the greatest Sunday Newspaper in the World. Price 5c. a copy. By mail, $2 a year. 47-3 Address, THE SUN, New York 50 YEARS’ EXPERIENCE Parr TRADE MARKS, S1G:NS. GINS, COPYRIGHTS. ETC. Anyone sending a sketch and description may quickly aseertain our opinion free whether an in- vention is probably patentable. Communications strictly eontidential. Handbook on patents seni free. Oldest ageacy for securing patents. . Patents taken through Munn & Co. receive special notice, without charge, in the SCIENTIFIC AMERICAN A handsomely illustrated weekly. Largest circu- lati f any seientific journal. Terms §3 a year; A $1. til jou all newsdealers. ? UNN & CO. 361 Broapway, NEW YORK. iA Orrice, 625 F Sr., WasaineroN, D. C. 47-44-1y —— Plumbing etc. PLUMBER a8 you chose your doctor—for ef- fectiveness of work rather than for lowness of price. Judge of our ability as you judged of his—by the work already done. Many very particular people have judged us in this way, and have chosen -us a8 their plumbers. R. J. SCHAD & BRO. No. 6 N. Allegheny 8t., BELLEFONTE, PA. Aee008000 900005800008 800500 980000000000PERIRNRS 000000 TE A AT ITS In, TriEp To CONCEAL IT.—It's the old story of ‘“‘maurder will out’’ only in this case there's nocrime. A woman feels run down, has backache or dyspepsia and thinks it’s nothing and tries to hide it un- til she finally breaks down. Don’t de- ceive yourself. Take Electric Bitters at once. It has a reputation for curing Stomach, Liver and Kidney troubles and will revivify your whole system. The worst forms of those maladies will quickly yield to the curative power of Electric Bitters. Ouly 500, and guaranteed by Green’s Pharmacy. ——Sabseribe for the WATCHMAN, Demorratic atc Bellefonte, Pa., January 16, 1903. MY DAY’S A-COMING 1 know my saying's common. Bat it’s no less wrong for that. (It’s like some other proverbs That we rattle off so pat). It’s not a healthy doctrine, For it brings too little cheer. Don’t say, “My day’s a-comin’ "— Why, your day is always here ! None of the days is labeled, They are every one for you ; Your day, if you'll but use it For the best that you can do. Your day—and the one who gave it Every night your strength restores Don't say, “My day’s a-comin’ ’'— For the one that’s here is yours, In God's last grand accounting “Iwill be asked ot you and me Just how we used our day store In the place where mortals be. Then, if you spent them waiting, All the wasted days you'll rue. Your day was never ‘comin’ — You'll find they were all for yon. —S. W. Gillian, in Los Angeles Herald. ONE RESULT. Beautiful Mrs. Haviland was dashing through the Park in her victoria, her six- year-old son by her side. The autumn breeze was blowing freshly, and the two exquisite rose tinged faces, one a smaller replica of the other, made a rare picture. Almost every one tuned to look at them as they passed. Those who knew the lady howed and smiled, or howed and did not smile, while she had only the same slight but captivating glance of recognition for each. A gentleman on a fine hay joined her before she had gone far, and made the tour beside her carriage. After that still more of the passers turned to look, and fewer smiled as they bowed. But the ra- diance of her look never faltered, and if the rose of her cheek was somewhat deeper, so was the boy’s, and the afternoon was grown I cold. It was five o’clock when the victoria left the Park, and, rolling down the avenue, turned into the broad, substantially built side street near the corner of which was the | lady's home. The gentleman ou the bay accompanied her as far as the street corner, and there took leave. A little girl, watch- | ing with straining eyes from an upstairs | window, saw him as he lifted his hat from his bandsome blonde head, and wondered vaguely who he was. Any one of Mrs. Haviland’s many servante could have told her. But Ruth never talked with the serv- ants. She rarely talked even with the nurse or with Miss Murray, her governess, who, however, though a miracle of gentle- ness and well preserved if characterless prettiness, was not precisely a confideuce- elieiting person. She did not talk much even with her little brother, though she played with him by the hour on rainy af- ternoons, keeping him absorbed from first to last when na one else could manage the self willed little fellow for ten minutes at a time. She went out to the head of the staiis, partly to meet Harry, but more to catch a glimpse of her idolized mother. Harry did not eome up, however. Mrs. Haviland’s maid was sent for downstairs to remove her wraps, and Ruth, peeping over the banis- ters, had a gratifying vision of her mother reflected in the long hall glass, as the lady stood before it while the maid deftly pin- ned hack a leck escaped from the loose coil of her hair. Do mirrors realize when they are blest? Not to many is it given to re- flect 80 complete and satisfying a beauty as was this lady’s. Butall too soon she turn- ed away, and, calling to Harry, took him in with her to the tea table to stand at her elbow like a bewitching little page while she poured tea. She often took bim in with her so—that is, if people were com- ing. Ruth went slowly away from her poss, therefore, knowing that Harry would not come up as long as the good time lasted. On her way to the school room she her father coming down from his study. He did not see her in the semi-darkness— nobody ever seemed to see Ruth unless there were a bright light—and she slipped silently by, not caring in the least that he had not seen her, nor that if he had he might not have noticed her save by a grave nod. It was Harry whom he always saw and always stopped to speak to. Why should he or any one speak to her? For there was nothing about her even remotely like her mother. She was a singularly plain child, upon whom no amount of taste- ful dressing conferred any saving distinc. tion, and the consciousness of her unattrac- tiveness lay like an added blights upon her personality. : It was past the children’s supper hour when Harry came dancing into the nursery, where he and Ruth took their meals. Mrs. Haviland, too, would soon be coming up- stairs to dress for dinner. Ruth was medi- tating slipping out into the hall for anoth- er sight of her as she swept radiantly down the passage to her room, when—wonder of wonders !—the nursery door opened and she came in. It was only to give the nurse some directions about Harry’s toilette fo the next day’s drive, but Ruth’s heart beat with joy at the sight of her. Harry was looking particularly charming just then. His curls were tumbled all over his forehead, and his face was flushed with the heat of the room till it looked like a ripe peach. As he ran up to his mother to | tion. snatch at a charm hanging from the glitter- ing chain about her neck, she actually stooped and kissed him. Ruth held her breath, marveling at Harry's stolidity. She knew well that at the bottom of his selfish, bard little heart Harry cared less for his mother than for the least precious of his countless toys ; but the surprise of it hurt the little girl like a fresh wound at each manifestation of his indifference. What was their beautiful mother for, if not to be worshiped by all with the intense, self-ef- facing adoration which in Ruth’s soul was love’s only form ? Late that evening the nurse called her from her bed to look at Mis. Haviland as she passed through the corridor, arrayed for a hall in all her diamonds, looking like a dream of light. And when, attracted by the little group at the bedroom door, Mrs. Haviland glanced toward it, smiling the same lovely impersonal smile that she had bestowed on her acquaintances in the after- noon’s drive, Ruth’s heart beat even faster than before, and she crept back to bed in a silent rapture that kept her wide awake for some time. It was such wonderful mo- ments as these that bad counted for the chief pleasures in the child’s ten short years of life. The autumn passed and still Mrs. Havi- land drove in the Park in her open victoria, while the handsome blonde gentleman reined in his bay by its side; and fewer and fewer people stiled as they bowed. Then came an afternoon in early December, when the sun was a glory and the earth seemed a heaven, and Mrs. Haviland went for her drive somewhat earlier than her wont. She went alone this time. Ruth, just returned from a demure little walk with Miss Mar- ray, knelt at the school room window and breathlessly watched her as she drove away. There was always the chance that she might look back—might look up—though she never did. She did not now. The carriage came back almost at once, but Mrs. Haviland was not in it. There were only the two men on the box, and a note from Mrs. Haviland to her husband. When the footman brought it in Mr. Haviland was in the ball putting on his overcoat to go for a walk up the avenue. He took the note, and as he read, his face turned to stone. He read it twice from be- ginning to end—it was not long. Then, quite quietly, he refolded the dainty sheet and returned it to its envelope, put it in his pocket. took off his overcoat and hand- ed it to the waiting butler, all without a word, but still with that face of stone, and, turning, went slowly up the two long flights of stairs to his study, and there shut himself in, An extraordinary stillness settled down all at ounce over the house. The servants, mysteriously sagacious, went noiselessly ahout their husiness as usual, lighting all the lights in all the great empty rooms,and setting ont the dining table with its cus- tomary elegance. But Mr. Haviland re- mained shut up in his study, and no din- ner was served, and no orders were given, and Mrs. Haviland did not return. Miss Murray looked agitated and scared, and as if she would like to shrink into herself out of the way of an impending shower bath, and Ruth was sent to bed long before her hour. The next morning Mrs. Haviland still had not come back, and the same hush of uneasy expectancy pervaded the house like a noxious atmosphere. * Ruth bad no idea of what had happened. She knew only that her adored mother did not come, though she watched and watched all the day long, and could scarcely be gotten away fiom the window. So some vacunous, miserable days wens by, each more wretched than the last. Then one morning Mr. Haviland summoned Miss Murray from the school room to his study, and she was gone some time. When she came back, her soft, young-old face had lost its delicate color, and she could hardly take the seat at her desk for a nervous tremor through her. But the children’s wide eyed stare of curiosity forced her to pull herself together, and after a few moments she said to them quitesimply, just as if she were stating a fact in physical geography, though with an uncontrollable twitching of her thin, ladylike lips, that Mr. Haviland wished them to know that their mother was never coming back at all, but was the same as dead to them, and that they must be obedient children and never so much as mention her name in his hearing. That was the point that Miss Murray laid the most stress on—that they were never to speak of her again. Harry did not mind a whit that his mother was gone away for always. He just opened his glorious eyes wider and asked : ‘‘Then who will take me out to drive when I have my good clothes on ?”’ Ruth made no outery and asked no ques- But the blackness of night descend- ed upon her soul. An hour later their father came in. Har- ry gave a whoop of delight, dashing his slate to the floor, ran to him, tempetuous- ly, shouting, ‘‘I want a nickel ! Dad, give me a nickel !’’ : Mr. Haviland stood stock still and look- ed fixedly at his boy, the shadow on his marble face deepening into something al- most like contempt. Then he flung down a bandful of small coins upon the carpet quite angrily, and went out of the room immediately, without having said a sylla- hle to anyone. > Harry laughed with glee as he flung him- self upon the rolling bits of silver. The nurse chanced to be in the room, and Ruth saw her glance meaningly at Miss Murray as she muttered : ‘It’s Master Harry’s looks. He is as like her as two peas, and nos in looks only, more’s the pity !’ Ruth did not understand the full import of the words, though their dimly appre- hended scorn roused in her impotent fary, and she clenched her tiny hands under the table. No one ever guessed what of deso- lation it meant to the child when her beaun- tiful mother disappeared so suddenly out of herlife. But they all saw how listless and apathetic she grew, and how dully she went through her routine of small duties and pleasures, no one of which interested or aroused her in the least. The moment she was left to herself she always wens directly to the school room window, and sat there with her arms folded on the sill and her chin resting upon them, motionless save for the restless, roving eyes that missed no fig- ure that wens by. But she never told any one for whom she was watching. : Her father came ularly now to the nursery, where he had been used to come only occasionally. It was, however, mere- ly to ask perfunctory questions of the nurse or governess as to the welfare of his chil- dren, and he was so changed, so silen$ and stern, where formerly he Lad been only grave, that Ruth shrank from him. With her wother’s going, a blank wall seemed to have risen between her and everything else on earth. Miss Marray said of her with solicitons discontent that she was a singu- larly odd little girl. And so she was, since heart aches count for years. \ By degrees, as time went by and Ruth’s abstraction increased, the talk around her grew less guarded, and one day, when two of their maids were whispering across their sewing, she overhead something that drove her straight to h2r governess with a point- blank question. ‘‘Please. Miss Murray, where in this city is my mother’s new home ?’’ Miss Murray was so taken aback and so flustered that all the little laces on her gown were set to quivering. “Why, Ruthie—child—nowever—how- ever did you find out that—that your moth- er was in the city at all?’ she stammered. “Ellen said so. She was talking to Sophie. She said that the new mariage was no better than a mock marriage. She said that she was brazen faced to come back and take a house not ten squares away from us.”’ The child’s tones were fierce with uncomprehending resentment. Miss Murray’s gentle face wrinkled all over with perturbation. She laid a fright- ened, bloodless hand against Ruth’s mouth. *‘Huash, dear, bush! Ellen must have meant some one else. Ellen had no idea what she was saving. Ellen never meant any thing.” Ruth pushed aside Miss Murray’s hand roughly. An obstinate determination was over all her face. “I want to see my mother. Where is my mother ?’’ she said, doggedly. The direct, insistent gaze was not to be avoided. Miss Murray’s anxious brown eyes twinkled through a blur of tears as she looked as the child. *‘Don’t ask me, dear,’’ she said, tremu- lously, vaguely conscious of some hitherto unperceived need of pity. ‘‘I may not tell you. You will know all soon enough, poor child ! You are too young to be told Bow.’’ “I want to see her. I want to see her,”’ Ruth repeated, stubbornly. Bat the firmness of the gentle is not to be overcome, and Ruth received no more elucidating answer. The insistence went out of her face at last, and she returned to the window, sitting there in a submissive, patient way that lulled Miss Murray’s dis- gniet to rest. Shortly afterward Ellen disappeared, and Ruth rightly guessed that she had been dis- missed as a warning to the household against farther indiscretions. The child apparently took no notice, but despair seiz- ed upon her. The desire to see her mother was eating up her soul. In the extremity of her need a daring scheme shaped itself in her quickening brain. The maid who took Ellen’s place was a kindly, light hearted girl, and Ruth, in pursuance of her ends, hegan to make friends with her in a covert, shy way. to which the maid responded with easy good nature, soon coming to feel a genuine lik- ng for the reserved, odd child who thus singled her out for favor. And so Ruth craftily matured her plan. ‘‘Aggie,’’ she said one night, as the maid was putting her to bed in her lonely little room. ‘‘isn’t tomorrow your evening out ?’’ “Yes, Miss.” ‘‘Where are you going ?”’ “I don't know, Miss. friends, maybe.”’ Ruth looked at her with troubled, un- childlike eyes. “Do you know where the opera house is, Aggie?” “Certainly, Mise. ’Tisn’t so far from here. I’ve passed is often.”’ “Did you ever go there at night, Aggie? Did vou ever stand outside and watch the people go in and out? Did you ?”’ “Why, no, Miss, I can’t say as I have.”’ Rush had tight hold of the girl’s arm. A suppressed excitement had taken the place of her usual apathy. ‘Aggie, yon must take me there to-nor- row night. There is to be a new opera. I heard Miss Murray say so. Shesaid every- body would be there.”’ *‘But, Miss Ruth——"’ began the girl, protestingly. The child shook her by the arm in her frenzy of desire. “You are not to say anything to any- body, Aggie, or they would not let me go. But we can just slip out after I have said good night, and nobody will know, and you can take the latch key to let us in when we come back. Ob, don't say no, Aggie! Don’t! Don’t! I want to goso much! I must go and nobody else would take me if I asked.” The maid stood aghast at the audacity of the proposition. “But I coaldn’t take you out at night like that, Miss Ruth! I should lose my place the minute it come to be known, and good enough for me, too, if I did. You know I can’t, dear. You must see I can’t, or, indeed, I wouldn’t want no praying.’’ Ruth pressed close. Her agony of long- ing was like an outgoing, compelling force. “Aggie you must! You must! Where's the harm ? I only want to see all the pret- ty ladies in their fine gowns and gay cloaks, and the carriages hurrying up, and the horses jumping and kicking, and everybody shouting and calling. You never saw any- thing like it, Aggie! I heard somebody tell Harry once. We will just stand close by the door a tiny little bit of a while, and nobody will ever know we have been. Ob, Aggie !'’ she suddenly threw her frail arms chokingly around the girl’s neck, and her voice broke into a childish, tearful, irresis- tible guaver. ‘‘Ob, Aggie, darling, I never wanted to do anything so much in all my whole life! Take me! Takeme! If vou do, I will love youaslong asI live! Iwill love you with all my heart and soul !’ The girl hesitated, frightened yet fasoi- nated at the bold idea. She was thought- less and lively, eager to please and easily led, and she saw no risk to the child in the proposed escapade. And if Miss Ruth real- ly wanted a bit of frolic so much— Thus it happened that on the following night little Ruth found herself on the street of the huge city, with only a foolish young nursemaid for protector. It was an alto- gether new world to the child—a world full of distortions, dangers and alarms. All the familiar landmarks were obliterated. Everything was changed. The houses were taller and wider, and closed in before her orushingly. What lurking horrors might not spring out upon her from any one of their dark vestibules! It was like walk- ing through a lane lined with Jack-in-the- boxes. The electric lights glanced at her savagely, with great angry eyes through monstrous radiating lashes, A deadly ter- ror was upon her. But her purpose was stronger than her fear, and she kept ou her way by Aggie’s side, no sound of fright es- caping her, not even when she was nearly ran over hy a cab, nor yet again when— more terrifying still—a policeman seized her and swung her over a puddieat a street crossing. iy : So much time had been consumed in se- ouring an unohserved exit from her home that when they reached the opera house it was already late, and there was nothing to be seen except rows of waiting carriages and dwadling footmen. Ruth rallied from her disappointment as soon as its canse had been explained to her. “We will go to see your friends, Aggie,”’ she said, with quick decision. ‘You needn’t mind taking me along. Then we will come back when the opera is ous. It is sure to be best fnn of all when the opera lets out.’’ ’ To see some And again Aggie yielded. It would bea shame for the child to miss what she bad come for. Two hours later they stood in the midst of a dense throng at the doors of the vast building. The evening was turned damp and chilly, and the wind blew in rude gusts down the avenue. But the scene was all that Ruth bad depicted, and more, and Aggie became instantly an absorbed spectator. ‘“‘Nearer, Aggie! Nearer!” the child whispered, excitedly. ‘‘I must see them all. I mustn’t miss any !”’ She tugged at the maid’ssleeve, her eyes hunting hungiily through the crowd. What if she had not come ! The people streamed out. Aggie and her charge were pushed mercilessly to one side. The chiid’s heart beat to suffocation. What if she were there, and she should miss see- ing her! She gave a sobbing ery. *T can’t see, Aggie! Oh, I can’t see!” It had begun to snow. The wind lifted the awnings, and the wet flakes blew in under. Ruth felt cold, moist touches on her face and neck. Her feet and hands were ice. She shivered, and big despair- ing tears welled over on her cheeks. Then suddenly the crowd parted, and she saw her mother standing at the foot of the steps, waiting for a pair of thoroughbreds to prance their way to the curbstone. She was holding the arm of the tall blonde gen- tleman whom Ruth had once seen riding beside her carriage, and was talking gayly to a group of young men. An electric light blazed down upon her. The wind turned hack the edges of her ermine cloak, disclosing the splendor of the gown beneath. Oh, how bewilderingly beautifal she was! How her smile flashed! How her jewels gleamed ! How the white fur about her throat set off the face above—the fair, pure, lovely face that had in it no least trace of evil ! Ruth scarcely breathed. In her ecstasy the slow, long torture of the past months was as if it had never been. Her non-de- script little face was transfigured. For the moment her ineffable love made her beau- tifal. But the brougham was drawing up to the sidewalk. The gentleman whom Ruth remembered was moving toward it. The lady was ‘howing her adieux. Now her arched foot was upon the step. In another instant she would be gone—gone, lost for- ever ! ‘Mother ! Mother! Come back ?’’ The ery rang out, importunate, passion- ate. agonized The lady half turned, and threw a start- led glance over her shoulder at the crowd. But the gentleman harried her into the brougham and entered after her. She sank down on the cushions, her adorable face quite pale. “I thought—I almost thought that was Rath’s voice,” she said. ‘‘Nonsense,”” the gentleman answered lightly, ‘‘how could it be? Besides. it would have been Harry’s voice, not Ruth's, if you had heard it. Home John.”’ The footman touched his hat, sprang to the box, and the brougham whirled away through the sleet. It was half past eight of the evening a week later. The same lady, still more charmingly dressed, still more ravishingly beautiful, sat in her new drawing room, an opera cloak about her, fan and flowers ly- ing beside her on a table. The gentleman whom Ruth had recognized stood by the mantelpiece. He took out his watch. *‘Patrick is late.”’ The lady glanced up with her entrancing smile. “Yes. It is the second time. He should be dismissed.”’ : She let the cloak drop from her shoul- ders, and, drawing the evening paper to- ward her, looked lazily down its columns. The gentleman yawned. Suddenly she gave a wild cry, and leaped to her feet. ‘‘George! George!’ He was at her side instantly. “Darling, what is it?"’ She clutched at his arm, pointing to an item in the paper. He bent over and read it aloud. ‘* ‘On Monday, March twenty-fifth, of pneumonia, Ruth, daughter of Harold Haviland. aged ten years and nine months.’ ”’ The lady fell back into the chair, white as death, twisting her hands as if in bodily pain. “It is my child—my Ruth ! He calls her only his danghter—do youn see? Bnt she was mine, too. Ruth! Ob, Rath!” She gasped as if for air, pulling at the necklace about her throat. The string broke and the great pearls rained down over her bosom. Again she wrung her hands, lifting her head with a long, convulsive sob that seemed to rack her body. A new, strange look swept blightingly across her beauty. Her companion Jaid his band upon her Shouider. The change in her appalled im. ‘‘It is a frightful shock, of course, bus why should you take it quite like this?’ hesaid, in constrained remonstrance. ‘*Yon never cared for her, you know, and you were willing to give her up—to leave them both.” She was looking up at him, and all her frame cowered at his words. Yes, she had not cared, and she had been willing to leave her. The thought gripped her as ina vice, resolving every sense into a frighten- ed consciousness of an intolerable anguish. Was this remorse? Is it in such wise that souls are born? . She dropped her face on the table speech- lessly. She did not guess whose had been week before had faintly stirred a response in her slumbering mother heart. But deep down in that region so seldom entered, known to each as his true self, she knew thas from henceforth the little daughter she had never loved would call to her forever from her grav to come back.—By Grace Denio Litchfield in The Outlook for January. Raids on Millinery Stores @ame Wardens of Toledo Seize Birds’ Wings in- tended for Hats. : Deputy game wardens recently made a general tour of Toledo, O., visiting every millinery store and seizing large quantities of wings and bodies of birds that are with- in the class specified by the game laws of Ohio as not game birds. The game wardens of shestate have been active of late; and as their fees are largely contingent upon the arrests and convictions they secure, they are doing a large busi- ness. Few of the milliners and dealers in such goods have offered any resistance yet. However, several of them decided to make a test of the law. Domestic TROUBLES. —It is exceptional to find a family where there are no domes- tic ruptures occasionally, hut these can he lessened by having Dr. King’s New Life Pills around. Much trouble they save by their great work in Stomach and Liver troubles. They not only relieve you, but cure. 250. at Green’s Drug Store. the cry of love and longing that a short | Attorneys-at-Law. C. M. BOWER, E. 1. OBVIS BOYER & ORVIS, Attorneysat Law, Belle- fonte, Pa., office in Pruner Block. 44-1 J C. MEYER—Attorney-at-Law. Rooms 20 & 21 e 21, Crider’s Exchange, Belletonte, Pa.44-49 W. F. REEDER. H. €. QUIGLEY. EEDER & QUIGLEY.—Attorneys sat Law, Bellefonte, Pa. Office No. 14, North Al- legheny street. 43 6 B. SPANGLER.— Attorney at Law. Practices ° in all the courts. Consultation in Eng- lish and German. Office in the Eagle building, Bellefonte, Pa. 40 22 DAVID F. FORTNEY. W. HARRISON WALKER ORTNEY & WALKER.—Attorney at Law ' __. Bellefonte, Pa. Office in oodring’s building, north of the Court House. 14 2 S. TAYLOR.— Attorney and Counsellor at ° Law. Office. No. 24, Temple Court fourth floor, Bellefonte, Pa. All kinds of legal business attended to promptly. 40 49 C. HEINLE.—Atlorney at Law, Bellefonte, . Pa. Office in Hale building, opposite Court House. All professional business will re- ceive prompt attention. 30 16 J W. WETZEL.— Attorney and Counsellor at . Law. Office No. 11, Crider’s Exchange, second floor. All kinds of legal business attended to promptly. Consultation in English or Germ an. 39 Physicians. S. GLENN, M. D., Physician and Surgeon, « State College, Centre county, Pa., Office at his residence. 35 41 Sa A oman Dentis s. E. WARD, D. D. 8, office in Crider’s Stone ° Block N. W. Corner Allegheny and High St. Bellefonte, Pa. Gas administered for the painiess extraction of teeth, Crown and Bridge Work also. 34-14 R. H. W. TATE, Surgeon Dentist, office in the Bush Arcade, Bellefonte, Pa. All modern electric appliances used. Has had years of ex- perience. All work of superior quality and prices reasonable. 45-8-1y. ' Bankers. ACKSON, HASTINGS, & CO., (successors to . Jackson, Crider & Hastings, Bankers, Bellefonte, Pa. Bills of Exchange and Netes Dis- counted; Interest paid on special deposits; Ex- change on Eastern cities. Deposits received. 17-36 Hotel. =x TRAL HOTEL, MILESBURG, PA. A. A. KonLBeCKER, Proprietor. This new and commodious Hotel, located opp. the depot, Milesburg, Centre county, has been en- tirely refitted, refurniched an replenished throughout, and is now second to none in the county in the character of accommodations offer- ed the public. Its table is supplied with the best the market affords, its bar contains the purest and choicest liquors, its stable has attentive host: lers, and every convenience and comfort is ex- tended its guests. ¥®._Through travelers on the railroad will find this an excellent place to lunch or procure a meal, as all trains stop there about 25 minutes. 24 24 Insurance. EO. L. POTTER & CO., GENERAL INSURANCE AGENTS. Represent the best companies, and write policies in Mutual and Stock Companies at reasonavle rates. Office in Furst's building, opp. the Court House 22 6 FIRE INSURANCE ACCIDENT INSURANCE, LIFE INSURANCE —AND— REAL ESTATE ACENCY. JOHN C. MILLER, No. 3 East High St. Lh-18-Cm BELLEFONTE. (BART HOOVER, RELIABLE FIRE, LIFE, ACCIDENT AND STEAM BOILER INSURANCE INCLUDING EMPLOYERS LIABILITY. SAMUEL E."GOSS is employed by this agency and is authorized to solicit risks "for the same, Address, GRANT HOOVER, Office, 1st Floor, Crider’s Stone Burding. 43-18-1y BELLEFON TE, PA. Telephone. : YOUR TELEPHONE is a door to your establish- ment through which much business enters. KEEP THIS DOOR OPEN 5 by’ answering your calls romptly as you would ave Jour own responded to and aid us in giving good service, If Your Time Has a Commercial Value. If Promptness Secures Business. . If Immediate Information is Required. If You Are Not in Business for Exercise stay at home and use your. on Distance i La Our night rates leave small excuse for traveling. 41251 PENNA. TELEPHONE CO. Fine Job Printing. JFINE J0B PRINTING )! oY o—A SPECIALTY —0 dpe hg WATCHMAN OFFICE There is no style of work, from the cheapest Dodger” to the finest : ~ 1—BOOK-WORK,— that we can not Ho in the most satisfactory mam a .. ner,.and at Prices conpistént with the class of work, Call on or comunicate with this office, ED eon
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers