6
fROB^RT
TAUT I.
THE OLD BUCCANEER.
CHAPTER I.
THE OLD SEA-DOG AT THE ADMIRAL
BENBOW.
Squire Trelawney, Dr. Livesey and
the rest of these gentlemen having
asked me to write down the whole par
ticulars about Treasure Island, from
the beginning to the end, keeping noth
ing back but the bearings of the island,
aoid that only because there is still
treasure not yet lifted, I take up ray
pen in the year of grace 17 —, and go
back to the time when my father kept
the Admiral Benbow Inn, and the
brown old seaman, with the saber cut,
first took up his lodgings under our
roof.
I remember him as if it was yester
day, as he came plodding to the inn
door, his sea chest following behind
him in a hand-barrow; a tall, strong,
heavy, nut-brown man; his tarry pig
tail falling over the shoulders of his
Boiled blue coat; his hands ragged and
6carred, with black, broken nails, and
the saber cut across one cheak, a dirty,
livid white. I remember him looking
round the cove and whistling to him
self as he did so, and then breaking out
in that old sea song that he sung so
often afterward:
"fifteen men on the dead man's chest—
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!"
In the high, old totteriug voice that
seemed to have been tuned and broken
at the capstan bars. Then he rapped
on the door with a bit of of stick like a
handspike that he carried, and when
my father appeared called roughly for
a glass of rum. This, when it was
brought to him, he drank slowly, like a
connoisseur, lingering on the taste,
and still looking about him at the cliffs
jand up at our signboard.
"This is a handy cove," says he, at
length; "and a pleasant sittyated
grog-shop. Much company, mate?"
My father told him no, very little
company, the more was the pity.
"Well, then," said he,"this is the
berth for me. Here you, matey," he
cried to the man who trundled the bar
irow; "bring up alongside and help up
tmy chest. T'll stay here a bit," he con
tinued. ®'l'm a plain man; rum and
Bacon and eggs is what I want, and
that head up there for to watch ships
off. What you mought call me? You
mought call me captain. Oh, I see
what youTe at—there;" and he threw
down three or four gold pieces on the
threshold. "You can tell me when I've
worked through that," says he, looking
<as fierce as a commander.
And, indeed, bad as his clothes were,
and coarsely as he spoke, he had none
of the appearances of a man who sailed
before the mast; but seemed like a
mate or skipper, accustomed to be
•obeyed or to strike. The man who
•came with the barrow told us the mail
had set him down the morning before
at the Royal George; that he had in
quired what inns there were along the
coast, and hearing ours well spoken of,
I suppose, and described as lonely, had
chosen it from the others for his place
of residence. And that was all we
could learn of our guest.
He was a very silent man by custom.
All day he hung round the cove, or up
on the cliffs, with a brasf telescope;
all evening he sat in a corner of the par
lor next the fire, and drank rum and
water very strong. Mostly he would
not speak when spoken to; only look
tip suddenly and fierce, and blow
through his nose like a fog-horn; and
we and the people who came about our
house soon learned to let him be.
Every day, when he came back from
bis stroll, he would ask if any seafaring
men had gone by along the road? At
first we thought it was the want of
company of his kind that made him
ask this question; but at last we began
to see he was desirous to avoid
them. When a seaman put up at the
Admiral Benbow (as now and
then some did, making by the coast
road for Bristol), he would look at him
through the curtained door before he
entered the parlor; and he was always
sure to be as silent as a mouse when
any such was present. For me, at
least, there was no secret about the
matter; for I was, in a way, a sharer in
his alarms.
He had taken me aside one day, and
promised me a silver fourpenny on the
first of every month if I would only
keep my "weather-eye open for a sea
faring man with one leg," and let him
know the moment he appeared. Often
•nough, when the first of the moath
came round, and I applied, to him for
my wage, he would only blow through
his nose at me, and stare me down, but
before the week was out he was sure to
think better of it, bring me my four
penny piece, and repeat his orders to
look out for"the seafaring man with
one leg."
How that personage haunted my
dreams, I need scarcely tell you. On
«tormy nights, when the wind shook
4he four corners of the house, and the
eurf roared along the cove and up the
pliffs, I would see hint in a thousand
/orms, and with a thousand diabolical
expressions. Now the leg would be cut
off at- the knee, now at the hip; now he
was A monstrous kind of a creature
jwh<? had never had but the one leg,
And that in the middle of his body. To
Bee him leap and run and pursue me
over hedge and ditch, was the worst of
nightmare*. And altogether I paid
pretty dear for my monthly fourpenny
piece in the shape of these abominable
fancies.
But though I was so terrified by the
idea of the seafaring* man with one leg",
I was far less afraid of the captain him
self than anybody else who knew him.
There were nights when he took a deal
more rum and water than his head
would carry; and then he would some
times sit and sing his wicked, old, wild
sea songs, minding nobody; but some
times he would call for glasses round,
and force all the trembling company to
listen to his stories or bear a chorus
to his singing. Often I have heard the
house shaking with "Yo-ho-ho, and a
bottle of rum;" all the neighbors join
ing in for dear life, with the fear of
death upon them, and each singing
louder than the other, to avoid remark.
For in these fits he was the most over
riding companion ever known; he
woufd slap his hand on the table for si
lence all round; he wonkl fly up in a pas
sion of anger at a question, or some
times because none was put and so he
judged the company was not following
his story. Nor would he allow anyone
to leave the inn till he had drunk him
self sleepy and reeled off to bed.
His stories were what frightened peo
ple worst of all. Dreadful stories they
were; about hanging, and walking the
plank, and storms at sea, and the Dry
Tortugas, and wild deeds and places on
the Spanish main. By his own account,
he ijiust have lived his life among some
of the wickedest men that God ever al
lowed upon the sea; and the language
in which he told these stories shocked
our plain country people almost as
much as the crimes that he described.
My father was always saying the inn
would be ruined, for people would soon
cease coming there to be tyrannized
over and put down, and sent shivering
to their beds; but I really believe his
presence did us good. People were
frightened at the time, but on looking
back they rather liked it; it was a fine
excitement in a quiet country life; and
there was even a party of the younger
men who pretended to admire him, call
ing him a "true sea-dog," and a "real
old salt," and such like names, and say
ing there was the sort of man that
made England terrible at sea.
In one way, indeed, he bade fair to
ruin us; for he kept on staying week
after week, and at last month after
month, .*> that all the money had been
long exhausted, and still my father
never plucked up th&heart to insist on
having more. If ever he mentioned it,
the captain blew through his nose so
loudly that you might say he roared,
and stared my poor father out of the
room. I have seen him wringing his
hands after such a rebuff, and I am sure
the annoyance and th« terror he lived
in must have greatly "hastened his early
anAunhappy death.
All the time he lived with us the cap
tain made no change whatever in his
dress but to buy some stockings from
a hawker. One of the cocks of his hat
having fallen down, he let it hang from
that day forth, though it was a great
annoyance When it blew. I remember
the appearance of his coat, which he
patched himself upstairs in his room,
and which, before the end, was nothing
but patches. lie never wrote or re
ceived a letter, and he never spoke with
any but the neighbors, and with these,
for the most part, only when drunk on
rum. The great sea-chest none of us
had ever seen open.
lie was only once crossed, and that was
toward the end, when my poor father
was far gone in a decline that took him
off. Dr. Livesey came late one after
noon to see the patient, took a bit of
d»nn<»r from my mother, and went into
the parlor to smoke a pipe until his
horse should come down from the ham
let, for we had no stabling at the old
Benbow. I followed him in, and I re
member observing the contrast the
neat, bright doctor, with his powder as
white as snow, and his bright, black
eyes and pleasant manners, made with
the coltish country folk, and, above all.
with that filthy, heavy, bleared scare
crow of a pirate of ours, sitting far gone
in rum, with his arms on the table. Sud
denly he—the captain, that is—began
to pipe up his eternal song:
"Fifteen men on the dead man's chest—
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!
Drink and the devil had done for the rest—
Yo-ho-ho. and a bottle of rum!"
At first I had supposed "the dead
man's chest" to be that identical big
box of his upstairs in the front room,
and the thought had been mingled in
my nightmares with that of the one
legged seafaring man. But by this time
we had all long ceased to pay any par
ticular notice to the song; it was new,
that night, to nobody but Dr. Livesey,
and on him I observed that it did not
produce an agreeable effect, for he
hooked up for a moment quite angrily
before he went on with his talk to old
Taylor, the gardener, on a new cure for
rheumatics. In the meantime the cap
tain gradually brightened up at his
own music, and at last flapped his hand
upon the table before him in a way we
all knew to mean—-silence. The voices
stopped at once, all but Dr. Livesey's;
he went on as before, speaking clear
and kind, and drawing briskly at his
pipe between every word or two. The
captain glared at him for awhile,
flapped his hand again, glared still
harder, and at last broke out with a
villainous, low oath; "Silence, there
between decks!"
"Were you addressing me, sir?" says
the doctor; and when the ruffian had
told him, with another oath, that thia
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, JUNE 23, 1898.
was so, "1 have only one thing to say to
you, sir," replies the doctor, "that if
you keep on drinking rum the world
will soou be quit of a very dirty scoun
drel!"
The old fellow's fury was awful. He
sprung to his feet, drew and opened a
sailor's clasp knife, and, balancing it
open on the palm of his hand, threat
ened to pin the doctor to the wall.
The doctor never so much as moved,
ne spoke to him, as before, over his
shoulder, and in the same tone of voice;
rather high, so that all the room
might hear, but perfectly calm and
steady:
"If you don't put that knife this in
stant into your pocket, I promise, upon
my honor, you shall hang at the next
assizes."
Then followed a battle of looks be
tween them; but the captain soon
knuckled under, put up his weapon, and
resumed his seat, grumbling likeabeat
en dog.
"And now, sir," continued the doctor,
"since I know there's such a fellow in
my district, you may count I'll have an
eye on you day and night. I'm not a
doctor, onlj-; I'm a magistrate; and if I
catch a breath of complaint against
you, if it's only for a piece of incivility
like to-night, I'll take effectual means
to have j'ou hunted down and routed
out of this. Let that suffice."
Soon after Dr. Livesey's horse came
to the door, and he rode away; but the
captain held his peace that evening, and
for many evenings to come.
CHAPTER 11.
BLACK DOG APPEARS AND DISAP
PEARS.
It was not long after this that there
occurred the first of the mysterious
events that rid us at last of the captain,
though not, as you will see, of his af
fairs. It was a bitter, cold winter, with
long, hard frosts and heavy gales; and
it was plain from the first that rny poor
father was little likely to see the
spring. lie sunk daily and my mother
and I had all the inn upon our hands,
aud were kept busy enough without
paying much regard to our unpleasant
guest.
It was one January morning, very
early—a pinohing, frosty morning—
the cove all gray with hoar-frost, the
ripple lapping softly on the stones, the
sun still low, and only touching the hill
tops and shining far to seaward. The
captain had risen earlier than usual,
and set out down the beach, his cutlass
swinging under the broad skirts of
the old blue coat, his brass telescope
under his arm, his hat tilted back upon
his head. I remember his breath hang
ing like smoke in his wake as he strode
off, and the last sound I heard of him,
as he turned the big rock, was a loud
snort of indignation, as though his
mind was still running upon Dr. Live
sey.
Well, mother was upstairs with fa
ther; and I was laying the breakfast
Ha would loo* In at him through the curtained
door.
table against the captain's return,
when the parlor door opened, and a
man stepped in ore whom I had never
set my eyes before. He was a pale, tal
lowy creature, wanting two fingers on
the left hand; and, though he wore, a
cutlass, he did not look much like a
fighter. I had always my eyes open
for seafaring men, with one leg or two,
and I remember this one puzzled me.
lie was not sailorly, and yet he hnd a
smack of the sea about him, too.
I asked him what was for his service,
and he said he would take rum;
but as I was going out of the room to
fetch it he sat down upon a table and
motioned to me to draw near. I paused
where I was with my napkin in my
hand.
"Come here, sonny," says he. "Come
nearer here."
I took a step nearer.
"Is this here table for my mate
Bill?" he asked, with a kind of leer.
I told him I did not know his mate
Bill; and this was for a person who
stayed in our house, whom we called
the captain.
"Well," said he, "my mate Bill would
be called the captain, as like as not. He
has a cut on one cheek, and a mighty
pleasant way with him, particularly in
drink, has my mate Bill. We'll put it,
for argument like, that your captain
has a cut on one cheek—and we'll put
it, if you like, that that cheek's the
right one. Ah, well! I told you.
Now, is my mate Bill in thla here
house?"
I told him he was out walking.
"Which way, sonny? Which way is
he gone?"
And when I had pointed out the rock
and told him how the captain was like
ly to return, and how soon, and an
swered a few other questions, "Ah,"
said he, "this'll lie as good as drink to
my mate Bill."
The expression of bia face as he said
these words wa« not at «J1 pleasant.
and I had my own reasons for think
ing that the stranger was mintaken,
even supposing he meant what he «aid
But it was no affair of mine, I thought;
and, besides, it was difficult to know
what to do. The stranger kept hang
ing about just inside the inner door,
peering around the corner like a cat
waitingforamouse. Oncel stepped out
myself into the road, but he immediate
ly called me back, and, as 1 did not obey
quick enough for his fancy, a most hor
rible change came over his tallowy
face, and he ordered me in, with au
oath that made me jump.
As soon as I was back again he re
turned to his former manner, hall
fawning, half sneering, patted me on
the shoulder, told me 1 was a good boy,
and he had taken quite a fancy to me.
"1 have a son of my own," said he, "as
like you as two blocks, and he's all the
pride of my 'art. But the great thing
for bo 3's is discipline, sonny—discip
line. Now, if you had sailed along of
Bill, you wouldn't have stood there to
be spoke to twice —not you. That was
neter Bill's way, nor the way of sueh as
sailed with him. And here, sure
enough, is my mate Bill, with a spy
glass under his arm, bless his old 'art,
to be sure. You and me'll just go back
into the parlor, sonny, and get behind
the door, and we'll give Bill a little sur
prise—bless his 'art, I say again."
So saying the stranger backed alone;
with me into the parlor, and put me be
hind him in the corner, so that we were
both hidden by the open door. I was
very uneasy and alarmed, as you may
fancy, and it rather added to my fears
to observe that the stranger was cer
tainly frightened himself. He cleared
the hilt of his cutlass and loosened the
blade in the sheath; and all the time
we were kept waiting there he kept
swallowing as if he felt what we used
to call a lump in the throat.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
THE CANNY SCOT.
Some Eiamiiln of Ill» Ihcodilobi
Humor.
On his first visit to Aberdeen an Eng
lish commercial traveler, having re
ceived some marks of kindness from
one of its inhabitants, exclaimed, in
an offhand way, on his departure:
"If at any time you or any of your
people come up to London, don't put
up at a hotel, but come to us."
"Oh, thank ye!" replied the Scot, la
conically, and away the southron went.
Six months passed, and the English
man had long forgotten the incident,
when, to his surprise, he received one
morning the following note;
"My Dear Friend: As myself, my wife
and four children are coming up to Lon
don for a fortnight, we will be glad to
avail ourselves of your kind invitation."
Facing the situation with unquestion
able courage, the southerner put him
self to unutterable inconvenience to ac
commodate his guests. He took them
everywhere, paid for everything, and,
at the end of the stipulated time, they
announced their departure. The host
accompanied them to the station, and in
the fullness of his gratitude at the ex
odus, invited the father to have a part
ing drink.
"Come along, old fellow! What is
It to be? Whisky and soda, as usual?
Two Scotches and soda, please, miss!"
i "Na, na!" replied the Scot, solemnly,
"nane o' that! Ye've been vera gnid to
me and mine durin' the last fortnicht
—hae ta'en us everywhere and paid for
everything! Na, na! We'll hae a toss
for the last!"
Worry.
Don't worry. Don't worry about
something that you think may happen
tu-morrwv, because you may d'ie to
night, and to-morrow will find you. be
yond the reach of worry. Don't worry
i over a iliLng that happened yesterday,
because yesterday is a hundred years
away. If you don't believe it, just try
• to reach. aft»r it and bring it back.
Doni't worry about anything that is
happening to-day, because to-day will
last 15 or 20 minutes. Don't worry
about things you can't help, because
worry only makes them worse.. Don't
worry about things you can help, be
cause then there's no need to worry.
Don't worry at all. If you want to be
penitent now and then it won't hurt
you a bit togo into the .sackcloth and
ashes business a little. It. will doiyou
good. But worry, worry, fret, fret, fret
—why, there's neither sorrow, peni
tence, strength, penance, reformation,
hopes nor resolution' in it. It's merely
worry.—Edinburgh Scotsman'.
Powdered Crab fix a Medicine.
A Kussian journal that has recently
come under our notice calls attention
to the fact that for some 20 years past
the inhabitants of a malarial locality
in the government of Kharkov have used
powdered crabs witji great success in
of fevers. The powder is pre
pared iu the following way: Live crabs
are poured over with ordinary whisky
until they get asleep; they are then put
on a bread pan inia hot oven, thorough
ly dried and pulverized', and the powder
passed through a fine sieve. One doee,
a teaspooniful, is generally sufticienit to
cure the intermittent fever; In very ob
stinate cases a second dose is required.
Each dose Is invariably preceded by a
gliass of aloe brandy osia purgative. The
powder is used in tihat locality in pref
erence to quinine. So says the journal.
We will not vouch for it.—X. Y. Ledger.
Twentieth Century Love Scene.
Suitor—"Ah, dearest Irina, what ec
stasy lies in this sweet passion of love
which makes the heart 11 utter anil the
pulse beat faster." Irma (recent; grad
uate of a medical school, seizing his
hand) —"Ha, villain! You are deceiv
ing me! Your pulse is quite normal—
only 72. Begone!—Fliegend/ Blatter.
How Alexander Treated III» Wive*.
Alexander the Great had a large num
ber of wives, and wns accustomed to re
duce them to obedience by using the
flat of his sword as a corrective.—Chi
oago later Ocean.
PEOPLE-IN-LAW.
Neeennary Ktlli Tliut Must He Kuhnilttec
to iu Kv«ry Wrll-Itegulateil Family.
People-in-lavv are necessary evils. Ii
people will marry they must submit tc
the infliction of a number of new rela>
tions. Sometimes this infliction is bit
ter, sometimes sweet and sometimes it
has very little taste, but generally it
has a taste.
When a man and a woman join hands
at the altar they contract an alliance
not only with each other, but, in an in
direct way. perhaps, with their respec
tive families. Many do not attach
much importance to this fact, but it it
a fact, nevertheless, that no amount ui
sophistry can explain away.
A young woman has promised to
marry the man who appears toiler pos
sessed of all the attributes that make
up a manly man.
She lias long ago made up her mind,
how ever, that John's sisters are "loud"
and his mother "impossible;'' she won
ders how such people can have a sou
and brother like "dear John," and
after marriage she intends keeping
them at a distance.
The wedding day arrives, and she
hears John's mother call her "daugh
ter," but to her ears it does not imply
much; is only one of the forms to be
gone through on that happy day.
Then comes the honeymoon time,
and for two whole weeks the bride has
John all to herself. No thoughts of
his relations obtrude themselves on
that blissful time.
When the couple returns to town to
take up their abode in the cozy home
that "dear John" has prepared, Mrs.
John finds herself greeted by In r
mother-in-law and sisters-in-law, as
well as by her own mother and (juiet
school-girl sister. Tlie two latter, how
ever, are quite overshadowed by John's
relations, and Mrs. John resents the
fact iu her heart.
As the days go by she discovers that
her people-in-law show no disposition
entirely to relinquish John's society
because he has married a wife, lie is
still the son and brother, although he
has become a husband, and the first
frown that she remembers to have
seen on his brow is caused by a petu
lant remark of hers that she wishes
his sister Flora would stop somewhere
else than with them, while her own
home is shut up during the temporary
absence of the rest of the family.—Alan
Cameron, in Lippincott's.
WOMEN IN BUSINESS.
From the Free Press, Detroit, Mich.
A prominent business man recently es>
pressed the opinion that there is one thina
that will prevent women from completely
filling man's place in the business world—*
they can't be depended upon because they
are sick too often. This is refuted by Mrs,
C. W. Mansfield, a husiness woman of 53
Farrar St., Detroit, Mich., who says:
"A complication of female ailments kepi
me awake nights and wore me out. I coulij
get no relief from medicine and hope wa4
slipping away from me. A young lady in
my employ gave me a box of Dr. Williams'
Pink Pills for Pale People. I took them
and was able to rest at night for the firsj
time in months. I bought more and took
them and they cured ine as they also cureci
several other people to mv knowledge. j
think that if you should ask any of the drug.
fists of Detroit who are the best buyers o|
)r. Williams' Pink Pills they would say th<
young women. These pills certainly builq
up tne nervous system and many a young
woman owes her life to them.
"As a business woman I am pleased t«
reco m - .
mend them, 5
as they did ySfct
more for - ""][ \ M
me than any j il
physician, ~ ~~\?T- ~ a
and I can
Williams' j /"-~I
for Pale •
1* op I e yl]
general
dis- Suddenly Prostrated.
covery of modern times has done so much to
enable women to take their proper place in
life by safeguarding their health as l)r.
Williams' Pink Pills for Pale l'eople. Act
ing directly on the blood and nerves, in
vigorating the body, regulating the func
tions, they restore the strength and health
to the exhausted woman when every effort
of the physician proves unavailing.
For the growing girl they are of the great
est benefit, for the mother indispensable, for
every woman invaluable.
For paralysis, locomotor ataxia, and other
diseases long supposed incurable, these pills
have proved their efficacy in thousands of
cases.
HER EXPLANATION.
She Told Him lloiv lie Would Make
Her und Mamma and
Aunty Ifnppier.
There are incidents of real life which con
stantly prove that truth is often more amus
ing as well as more strange than fiction. A
sweet, gentle-voiced girl—one from whose
disposition sarcasm is as far as frost from an
active volcano —won the affections of a
young man. It was an unintentional con
quest on her part, but none the less com
plete. He propounded the old question and
she demurred. He bided his time and again
proffered his suit. She again delayed an an
swer. But the third time she received his
question first with silence and then with as
sent.
"And you will be mine?" he asked.
"Yes.
"It seems too good to he true. When shall
the wedding take place?"
"I—l don't know."
"There is no use in putting it off."
"No," she answered; "I think not."
"Say a week from to-day?"
"Very well."
"I knew that you would realize that yon
ran be happier with me than without me,"
He suggested, a little triumphantly.
"Yes," she answered. "I do realize it
now. You see, since Uncle Boh went away,
mamma ami aunty and T have been quite
(lone. We all talked it over and agreed
■ hat it would he ever so much safer to
have a man in the house at nights."—Wash
ington Star.
A War Map at Home.
"Say, I've been living quite a spell,"
Said Mr. Nobbleton, "but here is some
thing quite new to me—a war map
pinned on the wall in the dining-room
at home, where it can always be found,
and where all can look at it convenient
ly at once. Mrs. Nobbleton put it there.
She's absorbingly interested in the war,
as all women are, and when I say some
thing about the situation of the Span
ish fleet in the West Indies she walks
up to this map on the wall and wants
it illustrated and made cleat by that.''
—N. Y. Sun.
SSOO Reward
Tbe above Reward wfll W paid hr fa*
fcrmatios that will lead to tbe amrt mam
eoarietioa of tb« party or parties fk«
•laoad iroa and ilaba oa (he track mt tU
Emporium k Rick VaHey R R., >Mf|
tbe east Una of Franklin Honaleir's
m the evening of NOT. 21«t, 1861.
HSKBT ADO.T®,
88-tf. jhr—tdm*.
FINE LIQUOR SIORB
EMPORIUM, PA.
THE anderslfned bee opened * iii>
olaaa liquor etore, and Ib7l tee toe
trade of Ho tela, RtstMrsota, tm
We ahall carry none bat fttbutAMW
lean and Imported
WHISKIES,
BRANDIES.
GINS AND
WINES,
BOTTLED ALE, CHAMPAQUE, EU.
CkdMUm»mt
Bottled Goods.
rADDTTTEV to my terv* ITE* EFWEAAEILMF
Mutull; la stock a fall Ua« of
CIGARS AND TOBACCO.
SVPoo! aad BflMaad Iwm ta
CALL AMD RXK MB.
A., A. MCDONALD,
FBOPBIXTOB, BKPOBICM, FA.
... "i
§F. X. BLUMLE,^
W EUPOBIUIt, PA. at
& WINES, ?f
M WHISKIES, :g
M Aad Liquors of All Kinds. A
N The best ef foods always X
w carried in stock and every- 9
CT thing warranted as represent- TT
■T Especial Atteatlea Paid to ¥
M rUll Orders. «■
§ EMPORIUM. PA. 3 9
112 60 TO i
sJ. flinslef's, (
1 Bfwrf Street, Eartrtu, Pa.. 1
J WBate r*a «aa (t4 eajthlag Jrea vast ta V
C tha Ha* of F
s Groceries, )
i Provisions, r
/ FLOUR, SALT HEATS, J
C SMOKED HEATS, \
J CANHED fiOUtS, ETC., ?
I An, Ctffm, Frnlt*, y
S Mmh ul Clfir*. C
V Ooedle DellycrcS Pre* any /
/ RISE* la TAWN. N
Z oil in SEE ie in on rticu.\
T un p. * B. SENT \
imromics
Bottling Works,
JOHN MCDONALD, Proprietor.
IVaar f.IL D<H«, KAP,RTDA, Fa.
•atUar aad SBI»»ar «S
Rochester
Lager Beer,
NST mns it mm.
111 Maaafeetnrer ef MT
Drtoka aad Doaler IS OMN
Wlbm aad Pan Liquor*
——
We kwp none bat ths wry beat
gear aad are prepared to fill Orders es
abort notice. Private fhmlllee sirrrf
felly br desired.
JOHV MoDOHALXX
pM
: PANI*. 11l Tnuto-Uafka efctaiaodaad all KM
■ AWVIALA— ooadatfd far MO»N»Tt feea.
'ttBSSSSrOBZiXiSi SE E 3i?'.E2
DA. We afriae, if pateetable or not, fr«e ef
CKUFT, OTN-fe»O»TDU.till»«t,MU«vnr»4.
A »aaw«l*T. How to OauUa rauata, wttfc
! oofi eftaaMia the U. 8. aa£ hmifa oooaulaa
' Mat fna. Addrma,
O. A. SNOW A. CO.
! OK Parairr fmti, Waemaeroa D. O.
vsvmTcHicAca
to NEW YORK omoaa 4
A. H. KSLLCBfi MWSPJ'KI C%