6
IT CANNOT BE.
It cannot be that lie who made
Thfs wondrous world for our delight.
Designed mat all its charms shouldfade,
And pass forever from our sight;
That all shall wither and decay.
And know on earth no life but this,
With only one finite survey
Of all its beauty and its bliss.
It cannot be that all the years
Of toil and care and grief we live
Shall find no recompense but tears.
No sweet return that earth can give;
That all that leads us to aspire
And struggle onward to achieve,
With every unattained desire,
Was given only to deceive.
It cannot be that after all
The mighty conquests of the mind
Our thoughts shall pass beyond recall.
And leave no record here behind;
That all our dreams of love and fame.
And hopes that time has swept away.
All that enthralled this mortal fame,
Shall not return some other day.
It cannot be that all the t:es
Of kindred souls and loving hearts
Are hroken when this body dies,
And the immortal mind departs;
That no serener light shall break
At last upon our mortal eyes,
To guide us as our footsteps make
The pilgrimage of Paradise.
—David lsanks Sickles, in N. Y. Commer
cial Advertiser.
I A CLEW BY WIRE l
Or, An Interrupted Current. «;
BY HOWARD M. YOST. : :
jg Copyright, 1896, by J. B. Lipplncott Co. 5*
CHAPTER XIII.—CONTINUED.
My old nurse insisted on mv remain
ing at her house for dinner, and left
me seated on the porch while she went
inside to prepare the meal.
From my seat I could see the station
far down the hill, through the trees.
Two men were moving about on the
platform, but the distance was too
great to allow distinction of anything
but their forms.
Remembering then that my field
glass had been left here at Sarah's
liouso on the morning of my arrival, I
called into have her bring it to me,
which she did.
Taking the glass from the case I ad-
Justed it to my eye and then turned it
toward the station.
My sight had not deceived me even
In the momentary glimpse of the face
at the window.
The face was Horace Jackson's, ami
there the fellow was now, standing on
the edge of the platform, speaking most
earnestly, judging by the vehement
gestures, to the station agent.
CHAPTER XIV.
The rest of trie day was spent at
Sarah's house. Here at least were
quiet, calm and peace. No uncanny
mysteries, no disturbing influences
.marred the restfulness. The old nurse
herself was a certainty; no doubts and
fears were produced by her society.
By 1, er absolute faith in me, by the
many little expressions of devotion to
my best interests, a feeling of security
iwas inspired, so that when I started on
the homeward journey the influence of
(Sarah's peaceful abode went with me.
The sun was hanging low, and a cool
breeze had risen. I insisted upon
walking, much against Sarah's wish.
But the horses had had a hard day in
the fieTds, and I would not allow them
to be taken from the cool clover patch.
Reminding the good-liearted woman
of her promise to drive over to Xelson
ville early in the morning, 1 started up
the road toward home. The dust had
been laid by the heavy shower of the
morning; the air was bracing; the last
eong of the birds was sounding; the
patches of woodland through which I
passed were resplendent in the rays of
the dying sun, which shot golden
shafts through the leafy masses; over
all were calm and peace and solitude.
My spirits answered to the influences
of nature, and in a happy reflective
moot] I proceeded on my way. 1n my
mind one beautiful object predomi
nated —Florence.
With the lovely phases of the peace
ful evening appealing to the sense, it
eeerned natural for my thoughts to
turn to the beloved one—to dwell on
her goodness, her faith, her love for
me.
Anticipation of future happiness,
when my darling should be always at
my side, should be in my life, rounding
it out in the fullness of content, on
grossed my mind. There were no
cruel forbodings, no forecasting of
dire events, no warnings. Even the
sight of the station agent, Skinner,
cutting across the fields toward Sun-
Bet Ilill, caused only a temporary re
lapse from my happy mood.
If Skinner's errand was with the
Morleys, Florence would undoubtedly
refuse hitn admittance after what I
had told her.
By the time I arrived at my house the
Bun had fallen behind the mountains,
and only the golden rays remained in
the western sky and fired the edges of
the single cloud.
Going up through the yard, I noticed
the door to the cook house was un
latched. 1 had been unable, in my
explorations of cherished spots of in
terest in boyhood days, to gain en
trance to the cook house. The door
had been locked, aud I had not con
sidered it of sufficient importance to
ask Sonntag for the key.
Wondering why the place should now
be unlocked, I pushed the door open and
entered.
The recollection of a deep, dark apart
ment andemeath, which had been used
as a root cellar during my grandfather's
time, was brought to mind by seeing
that, the door leadinpfto the stairway was
partly open. Obeying a sudden Impulse,
I entered, and, standing on the landing,
gazed down into the impenetrable
gloom.
Now, there was no reason why I
should go down into that cellar; never
theless a strong impulse urg»l me on.
As I cautiously proceeded a thrill
came over me, something' like that
which a child feels when, impelled by
curiosity qualified by fear, it is about
to venture into some unknown place.
1 would probably have gone to nay room
and procured a candle had not this fear
some sensation come over me. 1 laughed
at myself for experiencing it.
Testing every step before trusting
my whole weight upon it, lest the tim
bers rotted by the dampness might
give way and precipitate me headlong
to the depths below, I went slowly
down Into the Egyptian darkness. My
hand rested oil the rude balustrade all
the way, and when it came to the end
I knew I was standing on the last step.
I am probably no more of a coward
than most men, and had never been
afraid of darkness; but this was the
blackest night I had ever been im
mersed in. Really there was a lesser
degree of darkness when I closed my
eyes, for then the sensations of the
glowing western sky still lingered.
Standing Ihere on the bottom step, an
unaccountable fear came over me.
Probably it has been perceived from
this history that impatience regarding
things which seem to have a bearing
on the supernatural is one of my char
acteristics. To feel a sensation of fear
when there is 110 apparent reason for
it, causes disgust at what I consider
an unpardonable weakness.
So then I determined to chastise my
cowardice by keeping on and explor
ing that dark hole. I would not allow
myself to beat an ignominious retreat
simply because a sensation of fear in
clined nie to such a course.
I took the last step, and my feet
rested on what seemed to be a loose
plunk, which gave way a few inches
under my weight. From the feeling
of insecurity this brought to me, I
thrust out my foot to feel my way be
fore proceeding farther.
Before I could take a step forward,
however, from somewhere in that tomb
like darkness, in deep, solemn tones,
sounded a voice:
"Another step means death. Pause
before you take it!"
To say that I was simply startled
would not be true. 1 was paralyzed
with fear. My hair bristled up, my
heart began a trip-hammer action, and
the blood surged to my head in a fierce
tide.
"Hack, for your life!" again sounded
the voice, this time in sterner tones.
"Hack, for —"
But I stayed not to hear more. Never
had that stairway been ascended in
greater haste. I fairly tumbled up,
using my hands as well as my feet.
Pausing not to close the cook-house
door, I made a wild rush for my room,
intent on the one only purpose of
escaping from the unknown terror of
that horrible voice. I closed my bed
room door after I had entered, and
bolted it. Then I threw myself into
the nearest chair and covered my face
with my hands.
For some time I remained so, iimp,
powerless and completely unnerved.
The night had fallen when I again
looked up, and my room was shrouded
in gloom. Darkness was horrible; so,
staggering to my feet, 1 fumbled about
for some matches, and in feverish baste
lit the two lamps and the candle
which were in the room. The window
was open. 1 closed the shutters ant!
bolted them. The door leading into the
parlor where my grandfather's body
had reposed in the collin waiting for
burial, so many years ago, was also
open, and in my wrought-up imagina
tion specters of the dead seemed to pass
before it. There was no bolt to this
door and, not feeling satisfied in having
it simply latched, by great effort 1
shoved a tall chest of drawers against it.
Kven thus barricaded there was no
feeling of safety. There was no know
ing what fearful mystery might come
up through the floor from the walled
up cellar beneath.
The experience just passed through
was enough to frighten anyone. But
it was not that alone whieli caused such
a complete demoralization of my nerves
and so absolute a terrorism of all my
faculties. There was something more
than the demonstration just encoun
tered, something from within myself.
Looking back to the time now I real
ize how true it is that often coming
events cast their shadows before.
After awhile I began to realize more
and more that the intensity of the fear
which had swept over me was not
wholly caused by the sound of the
voice or the attendant circumstances.
I scouted all idea of a supernatural ori
gin; but, then, what was it?
The season of the year had arrived
when the farmers had about completed
Ihe garnering of an abundant harvest,
and therefore a feeling of content,
abounded. The countryside was over
run by tramps, the members of the dus
ty fraternity well knowing that food
was never denied a hungry man by the
well-provisioned farmers. Perhaps the
cook-house cellar was a rendezvous for
a number of tramps. I was so eager to
arrive at some explanation of the event
which would have a wholly materialistic
bearing that the absurdity of a man
seeking a resting-place in a damp foul
cellar, when a much more comfortable
bed might be secured out at the barn
amid the hay and straw, did not strike
me.
Then, too, the place would undoubt
edly lose a degree of horror if a light
was introduced. So, seeing that my
pistol was in my pocket, and taking the
candle and some matches, I again made
for the cook house. Having resolved to
descend again into the mysterious
gloom, I did not allow myself to pause
and think; that would mean perhaps a
return of my flight. 1 must plunge into
the mystery suddenly, or not at all.
It was like taking a cold-water bath;
the longer one waits the harder to make
the plunge.
Inside the cook house I lit the candle
and, taking the pistol from my pocket,
approached the stairway.
About again to descend, the recollec
tion of my first experience came to me
in all the force of its unearthly qual
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, MAY i6, iB^R.
ities, and I was seized with a trembling
fit. My knees smote together, and my
hand shook so that the flame of the
candle was nearly extinguished.
The return of my fear, however, made
me all the more resolved togo on. I
gritted my teeth, and, advancing my
pistol in readiness, slowly began the
descent. Not a sound greeted my ears
save that made by my own footsteps.
After reaching the bottom step I held
the candle aloof and gazed expectantly
around.
The room was about 20 feet square;
the flat stones with which it was paved
and the surrounding walls were slimy
with moisture, and here and there re
flected back the light of the candle.
That was all. No human being was in
eight, not a sign of one having been
here.
At my feet a part of the stone pave
ment had been removed and a plank in
serted. Lying near the edge of the
plank was a paper with some printing
on the outside, like that on a bond or
deed. I stepped down upon the plank,
and again noticed that one end
sank under my weight. Stoop
ing down to pick up the paper,
my ears were again assailed by the sol
emn admonition seeming to come from
the opposite side of the cellar: "An
other step means death. Pause before
you take it!"
Grabbing the paper, I quickly re
sumed an upright position, and, hold
ing the candle above me, gazed intent
ly in the direction of the voice. There
was nothing but the walls around me.
With cautious tread I took the forbid
den step.
"Back, for your life! Back, for your
life!" The words were hurled at me
in fiercer tones than before.
I advanced another step, and still
lived. Waiting a few moments, with at
tention strained to fix the spot whence
the voice sounded, and being given no
further warning, I began by the light
of the candle to search the place close
ly with my eyes. Where could 1 the voice
have come from? No possible hiding
place appeared; nothing but the bare
walls.
Moving the candle about, it struck me
that there was a space in the wall op
posite 'which did not reflect back the
light, which didi not have over it the
dank green ooze. When I approached
nearer, two cracks running parallel
perpendicularly, and about two feet
apart, became apparent. Iran my hand
over the intervening space, and found
it imiooth. A close examination re
"Back for your life! M
vealed to me what seemed to be some
kind of a wooden door, rudely painted
to represent the surrounding stone
walls. But there was no *ign of bolt,
latch or hinge. If this was a door it
must close with a spring lock which
was on the other side. But then how
was it opened? Rapping upon the wood
produced a hollow sound. Undoubted
ly there was some kind of apartment
behind it.
What was it used for, and where did
it lead to? Was there a passage way
behind the door leading to the walled
up cellar under my bedroom? This
was probable, as the door was in the
wall nearest the main building.
Some one had gone through the door
on the night of my arrival, and, startled
by the pistol shot at my reflection, had
allowed it to slam.
Standing before the place and reason
ing thus to myself, I noticed a small
hole between two stones at about the
height of my chest. Resting one hand
on the edge of thedoor frame, T stooped
down to examine it more closely.
Immediately there was a blinding
flash right in my eyes, a hot flame al
most burning my cheek, a loud report,
then total darkness. The candde was
shattered in my hand. There was the
smell of burnt powder, and my lungs
told me of the smoke which filled the
cellar. Half stunned, I groped about
for the stairway, but it was some time
before I located it and ascanded.
The soft, pure air outside partly re
vived me, and I managed to drag myself
across the yard to the main buildingand
so to my room. On the first occasion,
terror had lent fleetness to my feet; now
they seemed weighted with lead. A
numbed indifference to my surround
ings was over me. I was heavy-head
ed and drowsy, so much so that I fell
asleep.
I awoke suddenly, with a start that
brought me to a standing position. A
glance at my watch told me it was
past nine o'clock, and that 1 had slept
two hours. When I put back my coat
for the purpose of replacing the watel 1
in my vest pocket, a rustling of papei
attracted my attention.
This brought to my mind the piece I
had picked up in the cook-house cel
lar and hastily thrust into my coat
pocket. I took it out and examined it.
Among the securities lost by the bank
in the robbery was a batch of Morgan
county refunding bonds. There had
been 100 of them issued, each of SI,OOO
denomination, and the bank had pur
chased the entire issue.
The paper picked up in the cook
house cellar, and which I sow held in
my hand, was one of thos«sl,(Xlo bonds.
CHAPTER XV.
ITow did the bond which was stolen
from the Safety Security company
over a year ago get into the cel
lar of an old country house be
longing to a former employe of the
bank? Who could have dropped it
there, and where were the rest? Was
a> trap laid for me?
Sonjitag, Skinner, Jackson, the un
explained and curious relation between
these three, the walled-up cellar, the
underground passage undoubtedly lead
ing to it, and so safely guarded—what
could it all mean? Was it possible
that my old house was the receptacle of
the stolen property, and Sonntag,
Skinner, even Jackson, the gang, or a
portion of it, had perpetrated the rob
bery ?
If this was true, then there was an
attempt being made to furnish some
proof which would throw conviction
upon me.
Was this the mystery which sur
rounded me? Single-handed, how could
I hope to cope successfully with it?
Jake Ilunsicker and his wife were to
be depended upon as far as their judg
ment and ability went. I thought of Mr.
Morley, who, being a trustee of the
bank, would naturally be interested in
the affair. But that gentleman's own
evident troubles, and the unwillingness
to add a greater load to the already
overburdened man, turned me from the
idea of aid from that direction.
There was another one, and the
thought had no sooner come into my
head than I proceeded to follow it up.
Stealing cautiously from the house,
I went out to the barn and saddled the
horse, mounted, and was soon tearing
down the Sidington road.
ITO BE CONTINUED.}
Con *n ni;u' "con*
The results of consanguineous mar
riages have been differently regarded
by various authors of note. Esquirol
attributed to them a predisposition to
ir.sanity among the descendants.
Meniere asserts that in the majority of
eases deaf mutes owe their infirmity
to the ties of relationship between their
parents. Lucas thinks that these mar
riages are a cause of degeneration in
the human race, producingmenta! dull
ness, brutality, insanity, iaipotency,etc.
Liebreich states that consanguinity is
frequently the cause of pigmentary
retinitis among the descendants. Ray
naud ranks it among the conditions
which may produce albinism. On the
other hand, some authorities have ex
plicitly declared themselves in favor of
such marriages, and assert that they
are not at all injurious, and that gen
erally they give good results. In the
face of such extreme opinions it is per
haps not astonishing that there are to
be found names of equally high repute
among those who affirm that these mar
riages are productive of both good
evil results, depending on whether or
not any constitutional disease affects
either party. —X. Y. Tribune.
Tlie Son*; of tli«» Siren.
Several years ago, when the famn-.sa
old siren whistle was blown so fre
quently at, the river mouth —no, not by
the rivev mouth —a certain East end
family owned a cow. She was just an
ordinary cow in all respects, save one
The siren whistle had a remarkable ef
feet upon her. Every blessed time th*
whistle started into wail and moan
that cow started up a vigorous series of
nvoos. And the most curious feature
about it was that the cow's vocal ef
fort ran up and down the scale in a
fairly close imitation of the whistle.
"Too-00-0000-ooo!" would goto the
siren. "Moo-00-0000-ooo" would goto
the cow. Ituit there was always a wild
crescendo shriek at the end of the si
ren's efforts that no cow —no matter
how accomplished—oould hope to rival.
An»l this ctow, being a sensible and rath
er phlegmatic animal, didn't attempt
it. J>ut her efforts within reasonable
limits never failed to arouse the hilari
ous attention of the neighbors, and
frequently caused neighbors to pause
by the fence and listew open-mouthed
to the astonishing performance.—Cleve
land Plain Dealer.
They Know Ma.
The train had stopped for a few min
utes at a station out on the plains, and
two or three barefooted girls and boys
had their backs against the depot and
their fingers in their mouths, while
•tliey stared at the passengers. Sudden
ly a boy of about ten years dashed
around ithe corner of the station and
called to his brother and sister: "You,
Joey! Ma says if you an' Maggie don't
come right straight home she'll —she'll
well, 1 for git what, but she'll do it, sure,
for you know what ma is when she gits
started; so you'd better git home
straight off!" .loey and Maggie evi
dently knew what ma was when she
"got started," for they started home
ward as fast as their bare little feet
would carry them. —Youth's Compan
ion.
To Mnke It Popular.
"Socially," said the social philoso
pher in his usual assertive way, "the
success of a s.port does not depend upon
the sport, itself." Thereat they all mar
veled. "I will guarantee," he went on.
"to make any old thing popular these
days if someone will only invent a dis
tinctive and attractive costume for it."
Thereat they ceased to marvel, for he
had proved his case.—Chicago Post.
At IjANt.
The shipwrecked artist, afloat on a
raft in mid-ocean, opened the grip to
which he had clung when the vessel
went down, and proceeded' to rig up an
apparatus to catch the wind.
"There!" he exclaimed, as he com
pleted his task. "It caa no longer be
said that I never made a sale of my
canvases." —Brooklyn Life.
A Kind Recommendation.
Weakleigh—My trouble has reached
that condition where I aim obliged to
have a specialist. Can you recommend
Dr. Cutter?
Flint —Gertainly.
Weakleigh—'What is his specialty ?
Flint—Autopsies. Richmond Dis
patch,
FIOLENT STORM.
Awful Resu'.ts of a Cyclone that
Struck Thrso State3.
Sc»ri'« of 1111 miln I.ivex Were Wotted Out
auU I.iwh to Property Foot* Up More
Than WSOO.OVO-l'ntll or Ilia
Storm \V»4 More Than
I 50 Mil«-» In I.eii;c'l>-
Chicago. May '2O. —Forty-two persons
arc known to have lost their lives and
2H others are reported dead as the re
sult of the tornadoes which devastated
portions of eastern lowa, western Illi
nois and northern Wisconsin Wednes
day night. lowa heads the list with
!'.) fatalities. Fourteen deaths are re
ported in Illinois.
Wisconsin reports nine known dead,
with unconfirmed stories bringing the
total in that state up to 37.
The storm in lowa started near Stan
wood and swept through the north
eastern part of Cedar county, the
southeastern part of .lones county, the
northern part of Clinton county and
touched the southern part of
county. Nineteen persons lost their
lives and more than twice as many
were injured. The property loss will
probably reach $500,000. In many
places not a building of any descrip
tion was left standing. Cattle, horses
and hogs were killed by the hundred.
The lowa storm crossed the Missis
sippi river into Illinois near Savanna.
Considerable damage was done on the
Illinois side before this storm spent its
force.
The second tornado in Illinois started
near Stillman Valley and swept north
ward. wrecking farm houses arid kill
ing as it went. Hut the greatest loas
of life was at the point of origin, where
four were killed. At Lanark the storm
ended its career by wrecking the
county almshouse and killing three in
mates. Three others were fatally in
jured. There were over 50 persons in
the building when it went down and
all of them were more or less injured.
111 Wisconsin the storm was more
violent than anywhere else, but fortu
nately it originated in the lumbering
districts of the northern counties,
swept along the line of the "Soo" road
and spent its force in the pineries.
Nine persons are known to have been
killed.
Conductor Carroll, of the Milwaukee
«& St. I'aul railroad, who arrived in this
city Thursday after a run of over 150
miles through the storm center in
lowa and Illinois, says:
"The first reports of the death and
disaster caused by this storm fail to
give the full account of the havoc
worked. At Elwood. la., a point half
way between Marion and the Mississip
pi, several people were killed and the
buildings of the town were swept from
their foundations. At Detmar Junc
tion four persons were killed; at
Briggs' station report was brought of
many buildings leveled and two per
sons killed; at I'reston five were re
ported dead and then the train crossed
the Mississippi into Illinois.
"At Savanna news was received of
the killing of four persons at Teade's
Grove, the first station east of that
city. All along the line of the Chicago,
Milwaukee »fe St. I'aul road, from Sa
vanna across the state, were received
reports of violent and destructive
storms.
"At Stillman Valley we had the first
view by daylight of the awful devas
tation wrought by the storm. A sec
tion of the village about 40 rods in
breadth was so completely razed that
not a single piece of wood a yard in
length could be seen. Had the cyclone
veered a few feet northward the main
street would have been destroyed and
scores of live* would have been sacri
ficed."
At Marion there was a very heavy
storm of rain, hail and wind. At Sa
vanna hail stones that measured seven
inches in circumference fell. After it
hail passed Stillman Valley the storm
turned to the north and wrought de
struction in Wisconsin.
For 150 miles it followed the easterly
track of the Chicago, Milwaukee >fc St.
Paul railroad and left death and devas
tation in its path. Mr. Carroll relates
that at Dellinger .I unction a man drove
up the railroad station, gave his horses
loose reins and rushed into the depot
for shelter. A moment later the cy
clone caught the horses and killed both
of them. So violent was the wind that
their carcasses were torn apart.
Marshtield, Wis., May 20. —A severe
tornado passed through the central
portion of the state Wednesday night.
The storm passed through Clark, Mar
athon and Langdale counties, level
ing houses, farm buildings and forests.
A ntigo suffered the most. Three peo
ple were killed and 12 injured there.
Elmhurst reports ten fatalities. At
Siegler a family of five perished. The
messenger sent to Marathon City for
aid states that buildings all over the
village were leveled by the storm. A
large church was blown from its
foundation. A large barn was picked
up and landed clear across a 40-acre
clearing.
Rhinelander, Wis., May 20.—Further
details of the storm in northern Wis
consin report that IS people were
killed at Heafford Junction. The train
on the Soo railroad from the north was
delayed several hours, having been
compelled to turn back on account of
the storm. Telegraph poles and wires
were demolished in all directions and
buildings in the path of the storm
were razed.
Six Men Drowned.
Pittsburg. May 20.—Ten men at
tempted to cross the Allegheny river
on a raft, near Springdale. Pa., yester
day afternoon and when in the center
of the stream the raft was swamped
by the rough current and the men
were precipitated into the water. Four
men succeeded in reaching the shore,
but the others were drowned.
liciuiHtcud Chosen for a Keudezvous.
Washington, May 20. Hempstead.
L. i.. has been selected as a rendezvous
for the troops from the New England
and middle states and it is expected
that 11) regiments will be quartered
there.
SSOO Reward
TV. .bora Reward will be paid to fa.
fbnnatioa that will laad to tbe am*l sai
senvictioa of tk« suty or «U
pieced iroa and alaba oa the track af tU
Emporium k Riok Valley R R., MM,
the «ut Um of Fraaktta Honalcir'a
a* the evening ef Nor. 21at, 1891.
Buiit Auc nr,
FINE LIQUOR SIORB
EMPORIUM, PA.
THIS nd«n<gg«d bat opened * lilt
olass Liquor atora, and invites (tea
trade or Ho tela, RtMaarutL Jbe,
We shell carry none bat the but ie»
loan and Imported
WHISKIES,
BRANDIES.
GINS AND
WINES,
BOTTLED ALE, CHAMPAQIiE, Efe
Choice Um of
Bottled Goods.
r aridities to my tan* Dm «112 Mm—a I
•Mitull; la itora a MI Uae of
CIGARS AND TOBACCO.
arTNI aa< BUMard Booaa ta aaaae WHM •
CftLL JJCD ni KE
A. A. MoDONALD,
PEOPRIETOK, KXPOKIUM. PA.
& F. X. BLUMLE, W
V IUPOIIUH, PA. m
Battlar «« aad Daalar le S
& WINES, l
& WHISKIES, 1:
M And Liquor* of All Kinds. g |
Q The beet of goods alwaji jj
w carried In stock and ererjr- M j
y thing warranted as represent- .
ft Especial Attention Paid to J
M p flail Orders. < |
§ EMPORIUM, PA : J
/ GO TO 3
sJ. ftlnslef'U
1 Braad (treat, Eaparlu, Fa.,
J Where ;N can pit anything f*a vast la C
C Uia Ilea at #
s Groceries, /
l Provisions, 112
? FLOUR, SALT MEATS, /
( SMOKED MEATS, \
J CANNED GOMB, ETC., }
) Itu, Coffees, Frelti,
S Tttecea ui Ctjar*. C
\ Bsede Delivered Frew say /
J Place In Town. 1
1 CIU 131 SEE IE in GET ftICES. \
t 1(11 112. k I. BEFIT \
■BPOKIVI
Bottling Works,
WtlN MCDONALD, Proprlster.
Ifaw P.tl Dapol, Kaipoiluaa, Pa.
Bottlar and Bhlppa* a#
Rochester
Lager Beer,
rst nuns iv etfut.
Tha MaßDflkOtnrar tt aefl
Orlaka and Daalor Is Ofcahn
Wlnaa aad Pan Llqnonk
We keep noae bnt the Terjrb«M
Bear and era prepared to fill Ordera aw
abort notice. Private families aerred
«*Uy If dsslrsd.
JOHN McDONALDi
i aoJ Trada-Marto obtained inJ all IW
< Ml boaiaaaa conducted far MoDin at I Pa-te.
'2TXS2I& rXSSSWiZ ESi'aiStES!
rtoott (rota WuUiiioa.
s+p4 mod«L drawing or phot©>, with doaul»
! tkm. Wf adriee, If patentable or not, Ire# of
< cJtaire. Oar fee not due till patent la secured.
a pAIIPHLKTa ** How to Outftin Pateau, wHfc<
l ooft of Mane in the U. 8. mC a countries
Mtvt Ire*. Addreaa,
iO.A.SNOW&CO.
<: Or*. Pmtwht OMOK, O. C.
I >V^VVVV%
iToV"l"h chicaco
t*NEW YORK Omcaa a
A. M. KEILCBB *gWSPJ»EB CBb