RT a a fT —— mm— © it destroys itself. - are virtuous, since no one should be + respect is diminishing among us, and it Translated From The Simple Life By CHARLES WAGNER Copyright, 1901, by McClure, Phillips & Co. the French by Mary Louise Hendee When one takes the trouble to study men at short range he is surprised to find that pride has so many lurking places among those who are by com- mon consent called the humble. So powerful is this vice that it arrives at forming round .those who live in the most modest circumstances a wall which isolates ‘them from their neigh- bors. There they are, intrenched, bar- ricaded with their ambitions and thelr contempts, as inaccessible as the pow- erful of earth behind their aristocratic prejudices. Obscure or illustrious, pride wraps itself in {ts dark royalty ‘of enmity to the human race. It is the same in misery and in high places— solitary ‘and impotent, on guard against everybody, embroiling everything. And the last word about it is always this: If there is so much hostility and ha- tired between different classes of men it is due less to exterior conditions than to an interior fatality. Conflicting in- terests and differences of situation dig ditches between us, it is true, but pride transforms the ditches into gulfs, and in reality it is pride alone which cries from brink to brink, “There is nothing in common between you and us!” We have not finished with pride, but it is impossible to picture it under all its forms. I feel most resentful against it when it meddles with knowledge and appropriates that. We owe our knowl- edge to our fellows, as we do our riches and power. It is a social force whick ought to be of service to everybody, | and it can only be so when those whg know remain sympathetically near tq | those who know not. When knowl edge is turned into a tool for ambition And what shall we say of the pride of good men? For it exists and makes ' even virtue hateful, The just who re- pent them of the evil others do remain in brotherhood and social rectitude. ; But the just who despise others for their faults and misdeeds cut them- selves off from humanity, and their goodness, descended to the rank of an ornament for their vanity, becomes like those riches which kindness does not inform, like authority untempered by the spirit of obedience. Like proud wealth and arrogant power, super- i cilious virtue also is detestable. It fosters:in man traits and an attitude provocative of I know not what. The sight of it repels instead of attracting, and those whom it deigns to distin- guish with its benefits feel as though they had been slapped in the face. To resume and conclude, it is an error to think that our advantages, what- ever they are, should be put to the service of our vanity. Each of them constitutes for him who enjoys it an obligation and not a reason for vain- glory. Material wealth, power, knowl- edge, gifts of the heart and mind, be- come so much cause for discord when they serve to nourish pride. They re- main beneficent only so long as they | are the source of modesty in those who possess them. Let us be humble if we have great possessions. for that proves that we | are great debtors. All that a man has he owes to some one, and are we sure of being able to pay our debts” Let us be humble if we sit in high places and hold the fate of others in our hands. for no clear sighted man can fail to be sensible of unfitness for B80 grave a role. Let us be humble if we have much knowledge, for it only serves to better show the vastness of the unknown, and to compare: the little. we have dis- covered for ourselves with the ampli- tude of that which we owe to the pains of others. ing mii And, above all, let us be humble if we more sensible of his defects than he whose conscience is -illumined, and since he, more than any one else, should feel the need of charity toward evil ‘doers, eyen of suffering in their stead. “And .what about the necessary dis- tinctions in life?’ some one may ask. “As a result of your simplifications are you not going to destroy that sense of the difference between men which must be maintained if society exists at all?” I have no mind to suppress distine- tions and differences, but I think that what distinguishes a man is not found in his social rank, his occupation, his dress or his fortune, but solely in him- self. More than any other, our own age has pricked the vain bubble of purely outward greatness. To be somebody at present it does not suffice to wear the mantle of an emperor or a ¥oyal crown. What honor is there in wield- ing power through gold lace, a coat of arms or a ribbon? Not that visible signs are to be despised — they have their meaning and use—but on condi- tion that they cover something and not a vacuum, The moment they cease to stand for realities they become useless and dangerous. The only true distinc- tion is superior worth. If you would have social rank duly respected you must begin by being worthy of the rank that is your own; otherwise you help to bring it into hatred and con- tempt, ' It is, unhappily, too true that certainly is not from a lack of lines drawn round those who wish to be re- spected. The root of the evil is in the mistaken idea that high station ex- empts him who holds it from observing the common obligations of life. As we v mse we pelleve that we free ourselves from the law, forgetting that the spirit of obedience and humility should grow with our possessions and power. So it comes about that those who demand the most homage make the least effort to merit the homage they demand. This is why respect is diminishing, The sole distinction necessary is the wish to become better. The man who strives to be better becomes more humble, more approachable, more friendly even with those who owe him allegiance, but as he gains by being better known he loses nothing in dis- tinction, and he reaps the more respect in that he has sown the less pride. CHAPTER XIII. THE EDUCATION FOR SIMPLICITY. HE simple life being above all else the product of a direction of mind, it is natural that edu- cation should have much to do with it. In general, but two methods Of rearing children are practiced. The first is to bring them up for ourselves, the second to bring them up for them- selves. In the first case the child is looked upon as a complement of the parents; he is part of their property, occupies a place among their possessions. Some- times this place is the highest, espe- cially when the parents value the life of the affections. Again, where ma- terial interests rule, the child holds second, third or even the last place. In any case he is a nobody. While he is young he gravitates round his par- ents, not only by obedience, which is right, but by the subordination of all his originality, all his being. As he grows older this subordination Dbe- comes a veritable confiscation, extend- ing to his ideas, his feelings, every- thing. His minority becomes perpet- ual. Instead of slowly evolving into independence the man advances into slavery. He is what he is permitted to be, what his father’s business, re- ligious beliefs, political opinions or aesthetic tastes require him to be. He will think, speak, act and marry ac- cording to the understanding and lim- its of the paternal absolutism. This family tyranny may be exercised by people with no strength of character. It is only necessary for them to be convinced that good order requires the child to be the property of the parents, In default of mental force, they pos- sess themselves of him by other means —by sighs, supplications or base se- ductions. If they cannot fetter him they snare his feet in traps. But that he should live in them, through them, for them, is the only thing admissible. Education of this sort is not the practice of families only, but also of great social organizations whose chief educational function consists in putting a strong hand on every newcomer in order to fit him, in the most iron- bound fashion, into existing forms. It is’ the attenuation, pulverization and assimilation ofthe individual in a so- cial body, be it theocratic, communis- tic or simply bureaucratic and routi- nary. Looked at from without, a like System seems the ideal of simplicity in education. Its processes, in fact, are absolutely simplistic, and if a man were not somebody, if he were only a sample of the race, this would be the perfect education. As all wild beasts, all fish and insects of the ‘same genus and species have the same mark- ings, so we should all be identical, having the same tastes, the same lan- guage, the same beliefs, the same tend- encies. But man is not simply a specimen of the race, and for that rea- son this sort of education is far from being simple in its results. Men so vary from one another that number- less methods have to be invented to suppress, stupefy and extinguish in- dividual thought. And one never ar- rives at it then but in part,a fact which "1s continually deranging everything. At each moment, by some fissure, some interior force of initiative is making a violent way to the light, pro- ducing explosions, upheavals, all sorts of grave disorders. And where there are no outward manifestations the evil lies dormant; beneath apparent order are hidden dumb revolt, laws made by an abnormal existence, apathy, death. The system is evil which produces such fruit, and, however simple it may appear, in reality it brings forth all possible complications, The other system is the extreme op- posite, that of bringing up children for themselves. The roles are reversed; the parents are there for the child. No sooner is he born than he becomes the center. White headed grandfather and stalwart father bow before these curls. His lisping is their law. A sign from him suffices. If he cries in the night no fatigue is of account; the whole household must be roused. The new- comer is not long in discovering his omnipotence, and before he can walk he is drunken with it. As he grows older all this deepens and broadens. Parents, grandparents, servants, teach- ers, everybody is at his command. He accepts the homage and even the im- molation of his neighbor; he treats like a rebellious subject any one who does not step out of his path. There is only himself. He is the unique, the perfect, the infallible. Too late it i§ perceived: that all this has been evolving a mas ter, and what a master! Forgetful of sacrifices, without respect, even pity. He no longer has any regard for those to whom ne owes everytning, and” ne goes through life without law or check, This education, too, has its social counterpart. It flourishes wherever the past does not count, where history be- gins with the living, where there is no tradition, no discipline, no reverence; where those who know the least make the most noise; where those who stand for publiec order are alarmed by every chance comer whose power lies in his making a great outcry and respecting nothing. It insures the reign of transi- tory passion, the triumph of the infe- rior will. I compare these two educa- tions—one the exaltation of the envi- ronment, the other the tyranny of the new—and I find them equally baneful, But the most disastrous of all is the combination of the two, which pro- duces human beings half automatons, half despots, forever vacillating be- tween the spirit of a sheep and the spirit of revolt or domination. Children should be educated neither for themselves nor for their parents, for man is no more designed to be a personage than a specimen. They should be educated for life. The aim of their education is to aid them to be- come active members of humanity, brotherly forces, free servants of the civil organization. To follow a method of education inspired by any other principle is to complicate life, deform it, sow the seeds of all disorders. When we would sum up in a phrase the destiny of the child the word “fu- ture” springs to our lips. The child is the future. This word says all—the sufferings of the past, the stress of to- day, hope. But when the education of the child begins he is incapable of es- timating the reach of this (word, for he is held by impressions of the pres- ent. Who, then, shall give him the first enlightenment and put him in the way he should go? The parents, the teachers. And with very little reflec- tion they perceive that their work does not interest simply themselves and the child, but that they represent and ad- minister impersonal powers and inter- ests. The child should continually ap- pear to them as a future citizen. With this ruling idea they will take thought for two things that complement each other — for the initial and personal force which is germinating in the child and for the social destination of this force. At no moment of their direction over him can they forget that this lit- tle being confided to their care must become himself and a brother. These two conditions, far from excluding each other, never exist apart. It is im- possible to be brotherly, to love, to give oneself, unless one is master of him- self; and, reciprocally, none can possess himself, comprehend his own individ- ual being, until he has first made his way through the outward accidents of his existence down to the profound springs of life where man feels himself one with other men in all that is most intimately his own. To aid a child to become himself and a brother it is necessary to protect him against the violent and destructive action of the forces of disorder. These forces are exterior and interior. Every child is menaced from without not ‘only by material dangers, but by the meddlesomeness of alien wills, and from within by an exaggerated idea of his own personality and all the fan- cies it breeds. There is a great out- ward danger which may come from the abuse of power in educators. The right of might finds itself a place in ed- ucation with extreme facility. To ed- ucate another one must have renounced this right—that is to say, made abne- gation of the inferior sentiment of per- sonal importance, which transforms us into the enemies of others, even of our own children. Our authority is benefi- cent only when it is inspired by one higher than our own. is not only salutary, but also indis- pensable, and becomes in its turn the best guarantee against the greater per- il which threatens the child from with- in—that of exaggerating his own im- portance. At the beginning of life the vividness of personal impressions is so great that to establish an equilibrium they must be submitted to the gentle influence of a calm and superior will. The true quality of the office of edu- cator is to represent this will to the child in a manner as continuous and as disinterested as possible. Educators, then, stand for all that is to be re- spected in the world. y give to the child impressions of that which pre- cedes it, outruns it, envelops it, but they do not crush it. On the contrary. their will and all the influence they transmit become elements nutritive of its native energy. Such use of au- thority as this cultivates that fruitful obedience out of which free souls are born. The purely personal authority of parents, masters and institutions is to the child like the brushwood be- neath which the young plant withers and dies. Impersonal authority, the authority of a man who has first sub- mitted himself to the time honored realities before which he wishes the individual fancy of the child to bend, resembles pure and luminous air. True, it has an activity and influences us in its manner, but it nourishes our indi- viduality and gives it firmness and sta- bility. Without this authority there is no education. To watch, to guide, to keep a firm hand—such is the function of the educator. He should appear to the child not like a barrier of whims, which, if need be, one may clear, pro- vided the leap be proportioned to the height of the obstacle, but like a trans- parent wall through which may be seen unchanging realities, laws, limits and truths against which no action is possible. Thus arises respect, which is 5 the faculty of conceiving something | greater than ourselves—respect, which | broadens us and frees us by making us | more modest. This is the law of edu- | cation for simplicity. It may be sum: med up in these words: To make free | and reverential men, who shall be in. | dividual and fraternal. Let us draw from this principlé some | practical applications. In this case it | From the very fact that the child is the future he must be linked to the past by piety. We owe it to him to’ clothe tradition in the forms most prac- tical and most fit to create a deep im- pression; whence the exceptional place that should be given in education to the ancients, to the cult of remembrance of the past and by extension to the history of the domestic rooftree. Above all do we fulfill a duty toward our chil- dren when we give the place of honor to the grandparents. Nothing speaks to a child with so much force or so well develops his modesty as to see his father and mother on all occasions pre- serve toward an old grandfather, of‘en infirm, an attitude of respect. It I a perpetual object lesson that is irresist- ible. That it may have its full fo ce it is necessary for a tacit understand ng to obtain among all the grownup men. bers of the family. To the child’s ey « they must all be in league, held to mu- tual respect and understanding, undor penalty of compromising their edu - tional authority, and in their numb'r must be counted the servants. Se - ants are big people, and the same sen- timent of respect is injured in the child’s disregard of them as in his dis- regard of his father or granfifather. The moment he addresses an impolite or arrogant word to a person older than himself he strays from the path that a child ought never to quit, and if only occasionally the parents neglect to point this out they will soon perceive by his conduct toward themselves that the enemy has found entrance to his heart. ‘ We mistake if we think that a child is naturally alien to respect, basing this opinion on the very numerous examples of irreverence which he offers us. Re- spect is for the child a fundamental need. His moral being feeds on it. The child aspires confusedly to revere and admire something, but when advan. tage is not taken of this aspiration it gets corrupted or lost. By our lack of cohesion and mutual deference we, the grownups, discredit daily in the child's eyes our own cause and that of every- thing worthy of respect. We inoculate in him a bad spirit whose effects then turn agajnst us. (To be Continued.) Young fdlers of the Time. Among the moderately well to do there is au army of young men growing ap in idle- ness in the country who think it heneath their dignity to learn a trade or follow a pro- fession and who in many instances form that large class known as genteel idlers. They bave been pampered and petted by their parents until they have come to the conclusion that the world owes them a living without their baving to work for it or give an equivalent in toil. They are in truth a menace to the peace and welfare of the country, and those who encouarage them to it are as reprehensible as they. — Sioux: City Tribune. —--Philadelphia Man (with affected dis- gast)—You don’t live in Brooklyn, do you? Brooklyn Man—Only in she winter. In summer I go tomy country house in Philadelphia. —N. Y. Weekly. ——Edith--I wish Percy shone in conver- sation a little more. 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RUDY; Lancaster, Pa, | SrA Collecting Rents. *‘Sir,”’ said the seedy man, addresing a prosperous-looking passer-by, ‘would you kindly favora worthy but unfortunate fel- lowman with a few pence?’’ *‘What is your occupation?’ asked the other, as he put his hand in his pocket. ‘‘Sir,” replied the victim of hard luck, as he held up a tastered coat sleeve and smiled grimly, “I've been collecting rents for some time past.’’—Tit-Bits. ——*'‘Good evening,’”’ said Borem when she came down to him. ‘‘I really mnst apologize for coming so late, but the cars’’— ‘Oh,’ she interrupted coldly, *‘I don’t mind late comers. It’s the late stayers that bother me.’? Insurance. WW LLIAM BURNSIDE. Successor to CHARLES SMITH. FIRE INSURANCE. Temple Court, 48-37 Bellefonte, Pa. S E. GOSS, ° Successor to Joun C. MiLLER. FIRE, LIFE, ACCIDENT INSURANCE. Represents some of the Best Stock Companies. 2nd Floor, Bush Arcade, BELLEFONTE, PA. 49-46-6m J OOK! READ I nd JOHN F. GRAY & SON, (Successors to Grant Hoover.) 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FOSTER, 49-9 Agent, Bellefonte, Pa. NAVA VAAN ASV AST ATA EE ———————————— Travelers Guide. (CENTRAL RAILROAD OF PENNA. Condensed Time Table effective Nov. 28, 1904. READ poww . Reap vp. Stations No 1{No 5|No 3 No 6/No 4{No2 8. m.|p. m.|p. m.|Lve. Ar. |p. m. |p. m. ja. m. +7 10 Ts 40 Fa 30| BELLEFONTE. | 9 20 5 10{ 9 40 7 21 6 51 2 41]........ Nigh........... 9 07) 4 57| 9 21 7 26/ 6 56| 2 46 901) 451] 921 733] 703] 253 8 55 4 45| 9 15 7 7 05] 2 55 8 53| 4 913 7 39] 7 09 2 59|.. 8 49] 4 38| 9 09 743/ 714/303 .| 8 46] 4 9 05 7 46] 7 16[ 3 05 .| 8 44] 4 31 9 02 7 47) 7 19{ 3 07]........ .| 8 42] 4 28] 9 00 7 51 723 311 MAT......... 8 39 4 25| 8 57 7 53| 7 25| 3 13|.....Clintondale....| 8 36 4 22] 8 54 7 57) 7 29| 8 17]. Krider's Siding.| 8 32| 4 18 8 51 801} 7 83| 8 21 =Mankeyville.... 8 28| 4 13] 8 46 8 07| 7 39| 8 27|...Cedar Spring...| 8 22/ 4 07; 8 40 8 101 7 42{ 8 80......... Salona....... 8 20| 4 8 38 8 15| 7 47| 8 85/...MILL HALL... 18 15[14 00/48 33 « Y. Centra on River KR. y » 3 s gs sdersey Shore. srs 3 Is 3 50 , 5 e 20 #12 29| 11 30 Tove } WMS PORT } je 2 25| 6 50 (Phila. & Reading Ry.) 730 680....... PHILA.............| 18 10 40| 9 02|......... NEW YORK (Via Phila.) p. m./a. m.|Arr. Lve.|a. m.ip. m. | 1Week Days | 10. 0} Ar ..NEW YORK... Lv| 4 ol | (Via Tamaqua) | WALLACE H. GEPHART. General Superintendent. Travelers Guide. JPENNSYLVANIA RAILROAD AND CHES. BRAN Schedule in effect Nov. 27th 1904. Leave: Bell os TYRONE WESTWARD, ve efonte, 9.53 a. m., arrive at Tyrone 11.05 a. m., at "Altoona, 1.00 Pp. m., at Pitoonte Le 5.50 at m. ave efonte 1.056 p. m., arrive at one, 2.10 P. m., at Altoona, 3.10 P. m., at Pittaoane: 6.55 P- m. Leave Bellefonte, 4.44 P. m., arrive at 0 6.00, at Altoona, 7.05, at Pittsburg at or Be Leave Bellefonte, 0.65 a a aml: Tyro , 9.53 a. m, ve ai ne 1L.05, a. m. at Harrisburg, 2.40 p. m., at Pha. adelphis, 5.47. p. m. Leave Bellefonte, 1.05 p. m., arrive at Tyrone, 2.10 p. m., at Harrisburg, 6.35 p. m., at Phila- delphia, 10.47 p. m. ° Leave Belletonts 2p m., arrive at one, .00 p. arr X . m, - delphi 5 Hany urg, at 10.00 p. m. Phila «VIA LOCK HAVEN—WESTWARD. Leave Bellefonte, 1.25 p. m., arriv 2.10 p. m., arrive at Buffalo, oa Lack faves LOCK HAVEN—EASTWARD. 10.30, a. m, leave Williamsport, 12.35 p. m ar- Ive 2 2 Hiss, 3.20 p. m., at Philadelphia Leave Bellefonte 1.25 p. m., arrive at 2.10 p. m., leave oar open Apock Haren arrive Harrisburg, 5.00 p. m., Philadelphia 7.32 p. Leave Bellefonte, 8,16 p. m.. arrive at Lock Ha- ves, 2B Pp m. Jeave Williamsport, x . arris| Philadelphia at 7.17 a. mg. = © © 0» ATFive at VIA LEWISBURG. Leave Bellefonte, at 6.40 8. m., arrive at Lewis. burg, at 9.05 a. m. Montandon, 9.15, Harris- Le burg, 11.80 a. m., Philadelphia, 3.17 p. m, ave] Slefomte fu Pi, m., arrive at Leyisburg, (Sih ui fo47 are sburg, 6.50 p. m., Philadel- or full information, time tabl 3 ticket agent, or address Thos. E. Were gall on er Agent West: Er \Be ne stern District, No.360 Fifth Avenue, TYRONE AND CLEARFIELD, R. R. NORTHWARD. SOUTHWERD, i i] g Nov. 29th,1903 i od dg y Af = i °F = : | 4] 1 P.M.| P. M. | A, M. LIEW, | AW, oa | P. M. . P.M 0 2% S50 9 20 11 20i5 35 658 8 06. .|d9 14] 11 14/5 29 $B i wwedyrone 8, 1......... 11 12/5 97 1} 405 811 9 10 11 09 7 11if 4 16/f 8 22 9 03/11 0g[p 25 7 15/f 4 20/f 8 27 9 00[£10 59[3 17 7 24/f 4 29/1 8 87. 8 52/110 51/5 06 7 80/f 4 36|f 8 45|, 8 45/110 44 734) 440 849]. 8 39 10 334 oo 7 36/f 4 42/f 8 51 111 8 36/10 353 oo 7 38|f 4 44/f 8 52|.. £8 34|£10 33[s 02 748 458 9 02 ol 824 10 254 49 wrale x ool 2rveleeO8ceola June, | ........ 10 20i4 3 7 54/f 5 00if 9 09.. 819/110 16|¢ 5] SEs 8 15/110 12/4 27 808i 5 14l¢ I 8 13| 10 10|4 25 $%rs 9 27.....Graham...... f 8 08/f10 03/4 17 2h 19 9 82|..... Blue Ball.....|f 8 03 9 58/4 12 yr §2 9 38/...Wallaceto; | T67 9 52/4 05 33 2 945]... .Bigler.... |f7 50 8 45(8 57 371 9 521, land....|f 7 43 9 383 50 8 30/f 5 89|f 9 f 9843 45 8 84/¢ 5 43/f10 f7°35(f 9 30[3 41 8 3b/f 5 47/f10 f 9 25/3 36 si 83410 7°25] 9 20[3 a 0 23|,., Riverview... 16 $ S6|f 6 07/110 28) Sus, Brid for 80 ED 2%, cu 10 35 Gurwensville 7 05] 9 00[8 1¢ 8 6 19/f10 50/...... ustic........ f 6 50(f 8 50|3 on f 6 25/110 57|.. Stronach f6 44/f 8 44/2 pa 9 20| 6 30( 11 05 rampian....| 6 40| 8 40|g Eo P.M.I P.M. | A.M. Ar, Lvle.m la mpm, ON SUNDAYS- -3 train leaves Tyrone at 8: making all the regular stops bron h in : arriving there at 11:05. Returning it leaves Gram. P an at 2:50 p. m., and arrivesin Tyrone at 5:35 ee EL CS AN —— BALD KAGLE VALLEY BRANCH. WESTWRD, EASTWED, @w g g Nov. 29th, 1903 i £ 3288 ] gx P.M. A.M. | P.M, P.M. : x 8 10} 12 25/7 00 854 8:16; ...... 7 06 in 3.20] ... 7 10 5 8 24/f12.36]7 14 4 - 83 Li 20 23 $33) ... 7 23 2% 8.851... 725 4 8 42] 12 49|7 32 I ia 8 49 .... 7 39 Ein 8 58 1 007 48 ao 1 9 07) 1 06)7 57 453 1 17 915 112/805 gr 14 918] 1 14/8 08 105 3 932] 1258 16 432 1255 9 941| 1 32/8 28 1 2 1248) 9 9 49(f 1 38/8 36 le 9 958 .... 8 40 12 38 9 8 959] 1 47/8 48 405 ...... wi 9 15]... leville....| 10 08] ..... 8 56 4 02] 12 26 9 12|..Beec Creek...| 10 11] 1 55 8 58 8 61| 12 16) 9 01... Mill Hall......| 10 22] 2 05 9 09 845 12 10| 855 Lock Haven..| 10 30 2 10/9 15 P.M.| P. M. | A, M. |Lv. Arr. Am. | p.m. pow. On Sundays there is one train each way on the B.E. V. It runs on the same schedule as the ane usin jeaving Tyrone at 8:30 a. m., week 3 e Pe And alternoon train leaving Lock LEWISBURG & TYRONE RAILROAD. EAST WARD, EXP. Nov. 29th 1903. WESTWARD Stations. P.M. | AM K 4 1 md 19/80 10 BO 1980 BO 1 10 89 10 £9 €0 £9 €9 £0.60 G9 05 00 i 1s 4h ih in ino = BEERS RRR raEEe SERRA RESeEn nn sesnne aneene ooo: essasens. Lo EEE ie i 00 00 OF 00 C5 £0 00 00 00 C0 TF 1S 1D 1D ID £0 1D 10 10 1D 80 1D 1D 1H DOD OO =F =F md =F =F aT =F =F 7 7 00 60 00 00 00 0 00/00 00 G0 WD © © © oo 00 00 Oo 00 G0 GO rn LEWISBURG & TYRONE RAILROAD. x EASTWARD. UPPER END, WESTWARD TT | 3 * MX | X | Nov. 19th,1903 | M = = = | 4 P. M. | A. M. [AT. Lveét|a. uw. | p.m. 4 05/ 9 18|.......Scotia........ 10 C5| 4 20|...... 3 5(1 9 08... Fairbrook....| 10 21| 4 36}. 8 45| 8 57|......Musser...... 1027 442... 3 39| 8 51|Penn. Furnace| 10 83 4 50|. 3 34] 845... Hostler...... 1041} 457... 3 29) 8 88/....Marengo......| 10 49 5 07 sonst snarl i ine .Loveville. ... : — 3 24] 8 8?|.Furnsce Road. enti 3 19; 8 26|....Dungarvin.,, 3 12| 8 18| Warrior's Mark 3 05 8 09l.Pennington... 2 56 17 58....... Stover, etees 2 50] Y 50)..... P. M. | A. wm. |Lve BELLEFONTE CENTRAL RAIL- ROAD. Schedule to take effect Monday, Apr. 3rd, 1899. WESTW RD EASTWARD read down read up No.5 No.3] Stamos. en, 2/tNo.4 P.M. | A. 0. [an |Lv Ar a.m | eo [poe 4 00] 19 80/6 30| ...Bellefonte...| 8 50| 2 2Blg 39 4 o7] 10 37/6 35 | 840 21006 15 410 . | 837 201612 415 8 35] 202/g og 418] 831 188g 05 4 21 828 1 file 03 49 8 24 14Bl5 go 4 25 8 20| 140l5 gs 4 40 8 07) 1822/5 gy “T% EL Fe 4 B5 7 31!...Bloomsdorf...| 7 40 |5 08 5 00 [ 351 Pine Grove Cro.) 7 " Is 00 Time Table in effect on and after Nov, 20th 1903. Mix | Mix | Stations. | Mix | Mix : BI CO CO hs yp CO Ov On pt Rgzassy eT EE3ans “f"* stop on signal. Week days only. y W, W. ATTERBURY, 3 °R) WooD. General Manager. General Passenger Agent. Money to Loan, MONEY TO LOAN on god security and houses for rent. . itty J. M. KEICHLIN 45-14-1yr. Att'y at Taw
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