6
GONE.
•She's Kone-my angel, my darling!
Away to the mountains has flown.
And I am sitting and dreaming,
In tenderest sadness alone.
There's nothing to shatter the silence
That broods like a fathomless pall
O'er space that was once full of music.
Save the sparrows' monotonous call.
Around me are touching mementos
Of days that were brimming with cheer,
When she, my radiant angel
From the kingdom of Heaven, was near.
The marks of her pink baby lingers
Are still on the window's bright pane,
Where fond in my arms I upheld her
To look at the glittering rain.
Her rattle still lies on my table.
With all of its poor, battered bells,
And oh, what a story of transport
The dear little plaything now tells.
On a chair is her shoe like a flower
A lover In his passion has pressed.
Its beautiful petals all faded,
That his sweetheart once wore on her
breast.
'Tis true she has only departed
To cross a brief channel of time,
But, oh. what a stifling measure
It makes In life's musical rhyme!
What a pause and a silence oppressive
That makes the yearning heart ache
And feel that a time is now coming
When the chain that is golden must
break.
—Rev. G. W. Crofts, in Chicago Inter
Ocean.
y < cY«V«'«'«• (Vi'iVi t tV< I'iVt"«Ya'i i IVI 11 u'«Vi f'iJ•
I A CLEW BY WIRE |
;S Or, An Interrupted Current. «:
3
H LY HOWARD M. YOST. =:
•5 Copyright, 1896, by J. B. Lippincott Co. £
CHAPTER XI.—CONTINCED.
Being satisfied in my own mind that
the difference between Mr. Morley and
Jackson had arisen over business af
fairs, I sought to lead Florence away
from a subject which seemed to cause
her distress.
"And what can you tell me about the
station agent at Sidington?" I asked.
"Oh, Nelson! how puzzled I am over
what you have told me! You say he
tried to shoot you?"
"Yes; but do not agitate yourself
over that. lie did not hit me, you
know," I answered.
"But why should he want to shoot
you?" she exclaimed.
"That is as much a mystery to me as
to you. Who is the fellow, anyhow?
Where did he come from? His real
tiame, I understand, is Skinner."
"Yes, that is his real name," was
Florence's answer.
"Why, what reason could he have had
for telling me his name was Hunter?
Tell me what you know about him, my
dear," I demanded, for I thought she
really appeared somewhat reluctant to
give me the desired information.
"Florence, who is he?"
"He is a detective," she answered.
"A detective! He! What is he do
ing about here?" I asked, in astonish
ment.
"Promise me you will not breathe a
word," Florence said, earnestly, hold
ing up her forefinger in emphasis.
"I promise solemnly."
"And promise you will not think me
a very foolish girl?"
"Never!"
"Well, then, after the bank robbery
2T used to read all the papers to ascer
tain if the robbers had been discovered.
The time went by, and you, poor boy,
■were still under the cruel suspicion.
Why, Nelson, nearly all of your old
friends believe you had a hand in the
affair."
"Oh, I know that!" I answered,
gloomily. "And I was foolish to give
up the trust and love and confidence of
the only true friend I seemed to have
at that time," kissing the faithful girl's
forehead.
"Indeed you were foolish, and cruel,
too," Florence murmured. "Six months
went by, and you went to Europe.
Nothing was discovered regarding the
robbery; and, what was worse, noth
ing seemed to be done in the matter.
Every one seemed to have forgotten all
about it, except that you were the
guilty one; that was not forgotten.
Oh, Nelson, I felt so sorry for you! I
knew how honorable you were, and
how heavy your heart must have been.
80 I made up my mind to do something
myself."
"You!"
"Yes. It was foolish, I know, but
I could not rest until I determined to
try and clear you."
For a few moments my heart was too
full for speech. "And what did you
do?" I asked, gently.
"I did not want father to know, so
I asked Mr. Jackson to send the best de
tective he knew of to me. Mr. Jackson
eeemed very kindly disposed toward
you at that time; he did as I requested,
and asked me no questions about my
intentions."
"So you hired a detective to trace the
robbers?"
"Yes."
"And that fellow Skinner—is he the
one?"
"Yes. I suppose it was a foolish
thing to do, fur nothing seems to have
come of it, although Mr. Skinner keeps
telling me he is on the right track now,
and will soon have them."
"Foolish, was it? Oh, my darling!"
X exclaimed, as I caught her hands in
mine and gazed down into the sweet
face. I could say 110 more then, choked
as I was Iby my emoti m. The noble,
true-hearted girl! Imp iled bv her love
for me and her absolute faith in my
integrity, undertaking alone to estab
lish my innocence, while all the world
remained indifferent! I saw the noble
ness, the willingness to make sacrifice
for her love, back of it all, and tears
came into my eyes and a great thank
fulness into my heart. What a for
ftunate fellow I was, after all, to be per
mitted to inspire such devotion!
"But if Skinner is in your employ and
therefore working in my interest, why
'aJit-uld he endeavor to shoot me?" I
finally remarked.
"Oh, Nelson, I don't know. I cannot
understand it," she replied, as deeply
iperplixed as I was.
"llow does it happen that he is sta
tion agent at Sidington? Why does he
remain here at all?"
"Father procured the position for
him at my request. The detective said
it was the best place to watch the rob
bers from, for absolute secrecy was
necessary, and no one would suspect
the station agent at a retired place like
Siding-ton of being a detective. Of
course 1 did not tell father that the
man for whom I desired the position
was a detective."
I made no reply to her last words. In
deed. I could not. My mind was in a
whirl.
"It is all so mysterious, and now
your dear life is threatened!" Florence
exclaimed, the tears again coming to
her eyes and falling down her cheeks.
While again endeavoring to calm her
the sound of approaching footsteps
reached us.
CHAPTER XII.
Mr. Morley came down the path from
the house. At first he did not see us,
and Florence called, which caused him
to turn and approach. As he drew near
his glance rested on me. Then he
scanned his daughter's face anxiously.
Ilis face grew white, and a drawn ex
pression came over it; he tottered in
lim walk, and seemed to keep upright
by an effort of will.
"Child, why have you tears in your
eyes?" he asked, in low, husky tones.
Then, without pausing for answer, he
went on: "Retire into the house,
daughter. I wish to speak to Mr. Con
way. Change your habit if you wish.
I do not think I will be able to ride with
you this morning."
"Oh, father, you are ill!" Florence
exclaimed, in deep concern. "What is
it? I)o come with me into the house
and let me do something for you." In
a loving way which was all her own
she drew his arm through hers.
The parent glanced down at the
beautiful upturned face with solicitous
love shining upon it, and his face lost
some of its haggardness. He smiled
and replied: "I am not ill, Florence;
only a trille worried. Do as I requested,
please."
In obedience she slowly withdrew,
sending back to me an appealing
glance.
When she had gone I turned my gaze
upon the father. There was no wonder
that Florence had expressed concern
for her parent. Even the momentary
glimpse I had caught of him on the
morning after my arrival showed me
a change. And now that a closer in
spection was possible, the difference
between the Mr. Morley of a year ago
and the man now standing before me
was startlingly apparent. He certainly
looked like a sick man.
"You had better sit down, sir," I said,
in commiseration for his weakness.
Mr. Morley sank down upon a rustic
seat and I remained standing before
him, awaiting his words with emotions
alternating between hope and fear.
"I—l have lost somewhat of late —
business reverses," he murmured.
Then, suddenly fixing his eyes on my
face in a searching glance, he said:
"My daughter was weeping. What was
the reason? What did you say to her
to cause her tears?"
"It was her own tender heart that
caused her to weep," I replied, after a
pause, during which I considered what
answer I should make. For it did not
seem right to add any fresh trouble to
the already overburdened man.
lie regarded me with a questioning
look, and I added: "She was sorry, sir,
that my innocence has not been estab
lished. This was partly the cause for
her tears. I am deeply grateful for
her tender sympathy."
"Oh!" The hard lines of his face
relaxed; he drew a long breath. "She
thinks very highly of you, Conway."
"Your words give me the keenest
pleasure, Mr. Morle3 r , and offer me an
opportunity to lay before you a sub
ject which may prove unpleasant," 1
said, eagerly.
Mr. Morley started; then a tre.nor
ran over him. What was the matter
with the man that he seemed to take
alarm, first at my presence and now at
ray words? If he was so bound up in
his daughter that he was fearful of
having her leave him, even to marry the
man she loved, there seemed small hope
of obtaining his consent.
In the fear that I should lose my love,
after all, I poured out my earnest
words.
"Mr. Morley, I want Florence to be
my wife. There is 110 use mincing mat
ters; the simple fact is, I must have
her. She loves me, and my love for her
is part of life itself. Will you not give
your consent?"
To my disappointment he dodged the
question altogether.
"Why are you here?" he asked.
"Here?"
"Yes. Why did vou come to Nelson
ville?"
"To find rest and quiet and peace; to
escape people's cruel tongues," I ex
claimed impatiently. "I give you my
word of honor, sir," I went on, think
ing I divined what his thought was,"l
knew nothing of your living in Nelson
ville. No idea was farther from my
mind than that I should meet Florence
here. But I cannot help telling you
how my meeting her has lightened the
burden of the past year, how her love
makes my life appear bright before
me, and shine even through the cloud
which still rests upon my honor. You,
of course, can withhold your consent,
but, I tell you openly, I shall in that
case do my utmost to persuade her to
marry me against your wish."
I was startled by my boldness in
speaking as I did, but the words were
out, and I would not have recalled them
if I could.
"Florence would not marry without
my consent," Mr. Morley remarked,
with the trace of a smile.
"All, sir, I know that well. We can
wait until my innocence is proved. But
it would be most cruel to us both should
you withhold your consent."
"You are still sanguine, then, of
your innocence being established?"
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, MAY ia, 1898.
"Most assuredly, sir."
Why an anxious look should appear
on his face I could not tell then. I
know the many sudden changes of ex
pression which cam® over him during
the conversation caused me consider
able surprise at the time.
"I—l have not kept track of that af
fair," he began feebly, "having been
fully occupied with my own concerns.
Have—er— have there been any new de
velopments, any discoveries upon which
you base your hope?"
"An innocent man cannot be made
to suffer forever, according to all laws
of truth and justice. I firmly believe
my name will be cleared, perhaps soon
er than expected."
"Then your hopes are based on mere
sentiment, and not on any discovery
bearing on the case?" Mr. Morley asked.
"Mostly on the idea that truth will
eventually prevail," 1 replied, epigram
matically.
"A most unstable anchorage nowa
days. Facts and proofs are what the
practical world demands. So, then, you
ask me to rescind my request made of
you a year ago, notwithstanding the
fact that the conditions remain the
same. You have broken your promise
to me; how then am I to know that your
protestations of love for my daughter
are sincere?"
I stared at the man in astonishment,
for his words were delivered in a cold,
matter-of-fact manner, and, if there
had bech any reason for it, I should
have thought there was a triumphant
ring in the tones of his voice.
The idea that Horace Jackson had ac
tually succeeded in persuading the fa
ther that I was the guilty one in ref
erence to the bank robbery flushed
across my mind. I knew, too, that,
deep and sincere as Florence's love
was for me, she would never be my wife
against her father's wish.
In bitterness of heart I broke out in
a volume of words, urged onto earn
estness by the fear that my darling
would be lost to me:
"Good God, sir! You love 3'our daugh
ter; you love her tenderly. Your devo
tion to her has been a synonym of fa
therly love; everyone has spoken of
it that knew you. Then how in heaven's
name can you endanger her happiness
in life by persuading her to marry a
man she cannot love—one whom she de
tests, the very sight of whom is ab
horrent to her? Oh, sir, she is young
and has a lifetime of happiness or mis
•' Give me your oath belore God."
ery before her, whichever you ntay
choose to make it. You are—pardon
me for saying it—you are a breaking
man." Mr. Morley sprang from his
seat at these words, and stood erect,
confronting me with a glare of angry
resentment in his eyes. But I went on.
Nothing could have stopped me then.
"It is true, sir; the signs of ill-health
are upon you. That was one cause,
the change in you, which brought the
tears to your daughter's eyes just now."
His haughty manner subsided, went
down suddenly. He sank upon the seat,
covering his face in his hands, and
groaned.
I could not help pitying "him, neith
er could I resist taking advantage of
this change.
"I entreat you, sir, to ask Florence
to speak out to you from her heart.
If she exhibits the slightest compunc
tion at the thought of being my wife,
I solemnly promise never to intrude on
your notice again—to withdraw from
your life and hers as completely as
though I had never lived. Think, Mr.
Morley, if anything should happen to
you—"
Happen to me!" he broke in, with
hoarse tones.
"Why, yes; people die, you know,
sometimes suddenly," I faltered, too
much astonished at the terrified look
which came over his face to choose
my words. But my amazement
changed to alarm at the effect of the
last remark.
Mr. Morley's face became ghastly;
his under jaw dropped, and his hands
worked convulsively. His lips moved,
too, but no sound came from them.
Thoroughly frightened, I stood and
watched him, then started with the in
tention of summoning aid. But he de
tained me by a gesture. Finally, after
a painful struggle, speech came to him.
"How did you know that?" he gasped,
in tones so low that I was compelled
to bend down over him to catch the
words. "How could you know—the
thought—the feeling—the conviction of
a sudden death—has been constantly
with me of late?—Oh, God! It is com
ing, I know it—coming soon, that sud
den death!"
"No, no, Mr. Morley," I answered,
briskly. "Cheer up, sir. I was only
supposing a case. You will not die,
sir. \ou are a sick man, and that is
the cause of your gloomy premonitions,
depend upon it. Allow me to help you
into the house. Goto bed, and we'll
have a doctor at you as quickly as pos
sible. You'll be all right again soon."
The fact is, I really thought the man
was dying, and, in the fear of that,
my words were rather extravagant
lie did not seem to notice them, how
ever, but sat there with his head
droopeu on his bosom. I shook him
gently by the arm, and he raised his
eyes. Yielding to my uplifting mo
tion, he staggered to liia *eet. t ~
Slowly we moved toward the house,
the broken nian leaning his whole
weight on me. .Not a word was uttered
by either of us until we reached the
steps leading up to the piazza. There
he drew back, and I hastily placed my
arm behind him, from the fear that he
was about to sink down. He did not,
however, and, as 1 soon found, he hud
paused simply to speak before entering
the house. He gazed into my face long
and earnestly, and such an appealing
look was in his eyes that 1 was stirred
to deepest compassion.
"Swear to God that she shall always
respect my memory; that she mav
never hear anything to cause her to
change in her love for me," he said,
brokenly, and in the manner of one
in a dream. "Promise this,"he de
manded, fiercely.
"Do you refer to Florence?" I asked,
thinking that his mind was wandering.
"Yes, yes."
"\\ hy, you know how deep and true
is her affection for you. Mr. Morley."
"And always shali be!" he exclaimed.
"There can be no doubt of it, I am
sure. Nothing could change her.
Come, let me help you in."
"Not yet. Swear that she shall never
hear anything to make her change," he
again demanded, "whatever happens.
Swear it! Give me your oath before
God!"
J liinking to humor him in his weak
ness, and yet strongly impressed by his
terrible earnestness, I raised my hand
and made the desired oath.
Mr. Morley drew a long breath and
then again spoke, in firmer tones.
"I believe you will keep this promise,
if you did not the other," he said.
"I will keep it, if it is at all possible,"
I answered, earnestly.
"It is for her good."
"For Florence's?"
"Yes, for Florence's good."
"Depend on me, sir. This promise
will be kept faithfully."
"Then, Conway, marry my daughter
—my beloved daughter—my treasure!
Marry her soon, immediately! Now
help me in. I think I feel better."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
SHOTGUN INSTRUCTION.
A .Missouri Jiiriue'n Unwritten I,a»r
Wliieli 11 .fury IteNpcotcil.
Judge Falconer, of Kentucky, who
gave the "unwritten law" decision in
the murder hearing of a man who shot
the despoiler of his home, is but one of
several men who have held openly on
the bench that homicide is not a crime
when committed to avenge one's honor.
Some years ago, in the criminal court
of St. Louis, Bill Smith was on trial for
an attempt to murder Mrs. Sterling, a
reputable woman who had the manage
ment of her husband's farm during his
absence. The Sterling farm was in Illi
nois. Sterling was in California at the
time of the attack. His wife was an
attractive woman. One of the men on
the farm was Bill Smith. His atten
tions to Mrs. Sterling were more em
phatic than discreet and he was dis
charged. He went ta St. Louis and ar
ranged a plan by which Mrs. Sterling
visited that city, though she was ig
norant of Smith's connection with the
scheme. lie met her, to her surprise,
soon after her arrival, and demanded
that she sell her farm, which she could
have done at the time without the con
sent of her husband, and go with him
out of the country. The woman de
clined. Smith forced her into a hall
way and nearly succeeded in cutting
her throat with a pocketmkife. The at
tack would have carried but for the ar
rival of help.
Smith's immediate arrest followed,
and he undertook to justify his act by
the statement that the woman had tri
fled with his affections. Sterling re
turned from California to assist the
state in its prosecution. During the
trial it was noticed that Sterling sel
dom took his right hand from his
pocket. Laughlin, the judge, directed
the jury to find Smith guilty, and then
said:
"If Mr. Sterling had taken a double
bnrreled shotgun on his return to this
city and unloaded both barrels into the
carcass of this man Smith, even if he
had done it in this courtroom, the act
would have been not only justifiable,
but proper and to Mr. Sterling's credit.
But as he did not, gentlemen of the
jury, you will pass upon the defendant's
guilt, and I will assess the punishment,
assuring you that it will be to the full
extent."
Of course the verdict was guilty. In
passing sentence, which was ten years.
Laughlin scored Smith and repeated bis
sho<tgun instructions. When this was
done Sterling took his hand out of his
pocket. He had resolved to kill Smith
if the verdict was different.—N. Y. Sun.
An En«y Problem.
"Would you," 'he said, after they had
been sitting there in the dark for a
long, long time, "be angry wit.h. me if
I were to kiss 3'ou?" She was silent
for a moment. Then, intones the mean
ing of which was not to be mistaken,
she repliedi: "Why doi you suppose I
turned down the light an. hour and a
half ago?" And yet he wondered, poor
fool, how other young men who had
started far in the rear were able to
pass hiim in the race of life.—Cleveland
Leader.
Si' "Vrntn't Neoeiidnry.
"Did yoa permit him to kiss you?"
asked the old gentleman.
"I didn't have to," replied the sweet
young thing.
Indeed she> had eauglit an up-to-date
young man who knew too much to ask.
—Chicago Post.
Tactful.
"It's always policy to laugh at a poor
joke," says the Mnnayunk Philosopher.
"If you don't, the man. who tells it may
give it to you over again, thinking you
have missed the point."—Philadelphia
Record.
Hut SllKhtly Different.
"George describes the girl he is en
gaged to as a perfect vision."
"Yes. And his sister just says that
the is a perfect Bight,."-—QikU and fio/ls.
A WOMAN'S BURDEN.
From the Evening News, Detroit, Mich
The women of today are not as strong at
their grandmothers. They are bearing i
burden in silence that grows heavier day bv
day; that is Happing their vitality and cloud
ing their happiness.
Mrs. Alexander B. Clark, of 417 Michigan
Avenue, Detroit, is a typical woman of to
day. A wife with such ambition as only a
loving wife can have. But the joys of her
life were marred by the existence of disease.
Suffering as thousands of her sisters have
•uffered, she almoit despaired of life and yet
•be was cured. M
"For five years I
Buffered with ovarian j
t rouble," is Mrs. 7? fx.
Clark's own version \f \ J
of the story. "I was _J><y
not free one single \
day from headache /
and intense twitch- /
ing pains in my neck / \\
and shoulders. For / l\\
months at a time I / \\\
would he confined to \\A
my bed. At times
b.ack spots would
appear before my
eyes and I would he" l became blind."
come blind. My nerves were in such a statt
that a step on the floor unsettled me.
"Kminent doctors, skillful nurses, the best
food and medicine all failed. Then I con
sented to an operation. That, too, failed
and they said another was necessary. After
the second I was worse than ever and the
world was darker than before.
"It was then I heard of Dr. Williams'
Pink I'ills for Pale People. I heard that
they had cured cases like mine and I tried
them.
"They cured me! They brought sun
shino to my life and filled my cup with hap
pines*. The headache is gone; the twitch
ing is gone; the nervousness is gone; the
trembling has ceased, and I have gained
twenty-six pounds. Health and strength ia
mine and I am thankful to Dr. Williams'
Pink Pills for Pale People for the blessing."
These pills are a boon to womankind.
Acting directly on the blood and nerves,
they restore the requisite vitality to all parti
of the body; creating functional regularity
and perfect harmony throughout the ner
vous system. The pallor of the cheeks ii
changed to the delicate blush of health; the
eyes brighten; the muscles grow elastic,
ambition is created and good health returns.
THE yUEST OF FORTUNE.
Sore to Uc Found, Sa> « Mr. Gozzleton,
11 One Unly Taken the
llitfht ituaii.
"The longer I live the more firmly Ism
oonvinced," said Mr. Gozzleton, "that a man
who wants a fortune has got to do some
thing besides wish for it. Fortunes, large
and small, are shy, very shy. In one form
and another they are "passing by all the
time, but they won't stop for the mere ask
ing, however polite and graceful and ear
nest the invitation may be. We might sit
out on the veranda from now till doomsday
and rise and bow and scrape at every one of
'An that came along and ask 'em all in, but
never one of 'em would stop. They might
want to come in, but nothing short of actual
collaring would bring 'em in. The fact ie
that if we want a fortune we've got to work
for it.
"Men have made fortunes, to be sure,with
out working. Oil may spout up out the ground
one man owns and cover him with riches.
Another man may find iron ore in his land,
and so on. But such cases are so few in
number that they don't count; the chances
of our getting rich in that way are really
not worth considering. If we would be rich
we must work for it. And work early and
late; all the time. Plug at it, and keep
plugging at it. There is practically no other
way.
"The man who idles away his time, or fails
to make the best possible use of it, stays
poor; the man that works for all he knows
now and keeps forever at it is bound to get
thead."— N. Y. Sun.
Jnst What fie Wanted.
One of the first men to reach San Frsi*-
eisco with a hoard of Klondike gold was an
Irishman named Finnegan, who had been
very poor before he struck it rich, and who,
consequently, was unfamiliar with many or
dinary uses of a life of luxury.
"Oi saj% yez kin bring me two dozen eye
sters," he said, airily, as he took a seat in
one of the finest restaurants in 'Frisco.
The oysters were soon set before him, and
Finnegan, looking about him for something
to put on them, and hardly knowing what
the something should be, spied a bottle of
Tobasco and proceeded to season the bi
valves, not wisely, but too well.
Impaling an oyster on his fork, he
thrust it into his mouth, then leaped to hi»
feet with a terrific roar of pain and began
dancing about and yelling like a madman.
"See here!" cried the proprietor, rushing
to the table, "keep still, or I'll put you out!
"P-p-put me out, is it ? Oi wish yez would
put me out!" yelled Finnegan. "Me in
aides is blazin' loike a match factory!"—
Harper's Magazine.
MR. JASON BRYAN,
As an Experienced Nnrne, Keoom>
mends Pe-ru-na.
"Alv friend is improving, thanks to you
and Pe-ru-na. lam called onto nurse the
sick of all classes, though 1 am not a doctor.
I recommend Pe-ru-na to such an etxent that
I am nicknamed 'Pe-ru-na' by nearly every
body. lam going to have my photo taken
soon, and if my photo or anything else I can
say about your medicine will benefit you oi
anybody else, I will gladly allow vou to use
them."—Jussn Bryan, Franklin, Ind.
The nurse is often brought to a closer ob
servation of the effect of any medicine than
the doctor himself. In constant attendance
upon the patient day and night, he observes
the effect of every dose of medicine, while
the doctor only sees the patient occasionally
and must rely, more or less, upon the re
ports of the nurse. Pe-ru-na is in high favor
with the nurses. It is a specific for catarrhal
diseases of all varieties. It cures catarrh
of the head, catarrh of the throat, catarrh
of the lung*, catarrh of the stomach, catarrh
of the kidneys, and that form of catarrh se
common among women, known to the pro
fession as pelvic catarrh, ordinarily called
female eompUint. Pe-ru-na cures these
troubles promptly and permanently.
Kverv woman should have a copy of Dr.
Hart man's latest book on female catarrh,
entitled "Health and Beauty." Sent free
to women only by The Pe-ru-na Drug Mabu
facturing Company, Columbus, Oiuii,
SSOO Reward
Tk» ikoTi Rmr4 wfll to pill ftl h»
fcraaatioa that will lead to the arrest aaJ
eca notion of the Baity or parties fht
alaoed iroa and ilaha oa the track af tha
Emporium 4 Rioh Vallay R. R., ami
lha aaat Una of Fraaklin Hooalw'a
m the evening a i Nor. 21at, 18?'l.
Hmr Auciu,
88-tf. PruUm*.
FINE LIQUOR SI ORE
—i*—
EMPORIUM, PA.
THE undersigned haa opened > dirt
elaaa Liouor store, and iciltaa MM
trade or Hotela, Restaurant*, Jtet
We shall carry none but tha bant I wsae
lean and Imported
WHISKIES,
BRANDIES
GINS AND
WINES,
BOTTLED ALE, CHAMPAGIiE, EtM.
CfcetoelUaof
Bottled Goods.
raddftloa to bjt largo Sm of Himw I mmo
eaaataatly la (took a Mlttit of
CIGARS AND TOBAGCQ.
C*LL AKD mi
A. A. MoDONALD,
PBOPBOCTOB, BMPOBIOM, PA.
■ .. i _ i *
& F. X. BLUMLE, g
X lIIFOBItJII, PI. SB
Yf Bottler of aad Dealer la A
& WINES, 5'
& WHISKIES, 11
& Aid Liquors of All Kind*. a |
$ Tha b«et of jooda always _Q_
w carried In atook and every- 99
Ljf thing warranted aa repreecnb- Tf
* Especial Att en tie a Paid ta la
Ap nail Order a. M
§ EMPORIUM, PA. §
/ GO TO 1
Sj. A. flinsler'U
I Bread Street, Eaptrlu, Pa., \
J Wkera y« sea (ei earthing fee want la C
\ UltllHOf 1
n Groceries, )
i Provisions, 112
/ FLOUR, SALT MEATS, S
C SMOKED MEATS, \
J CAMMED 600.58, ETC., S
) Vtu, Csfeaa, Fralt*, C«nftttl«ifrj, J
S Tstatcs ul C
V Oo«d> Delijered) Free May /
/ Place la 1 own. N
i CIU ID SKI 11 1X» CR rtICKLN
c mi r. * k. IENT (
■Hpoaiva
Bottling Works,
JOHN MCDONALD, Proprietor.
Ilea* P. a K. DIHI Emporium, Pa
. r
BotUor aad Skipper
Rochester
Lager Beer,
nn nins if html
Tfco MnnlMorer of M
Srlaka aad Dealar la OMn
Wlnoo aad Pure Ll^oora
We keep noas bat the very hart
Bear aad are prepared to fill Order* ea
short notice. Private fkmillea earred
dal]/ If daalrad.
jorrsr Modonaijx •
Cinreata, and Tnult-Ueta obtalaed and all Aa>
ittWtoi ooaductod lor MODIKATI Pace.
OunOrricc la OwoatT* U. a. pATSNTOFrio*
, and wo can eecure Mtoatla lau lino taaa tnaN;
remote from Waamngion.
Sead model, drawing or pboto_, with dmrip
i don. Wo advUo, If patentable or not, fr«# e<
'charge. Our (eo oet duo till patent U aecurad.
i A I'AWH LET. 14 How to Obtain Paten;*," wMfc
i cost of tune in tho V. 8. aaf foreign coantrtoo
1 Mnt (TOO. Addreae,
C.A.SNOW&CO.
•v? xn-Ti A -7'tlZ »> ?» a
CHICACC
te NEW YORK Orricas 0
L B. KELLCQQ «W*P* D IB Cflb