14
THE OLD HOMESTEAD GONE.
One more old landmark gone, forever cone!
One dear familiar seem' erased from earth
I'o leave behind a scar. One less to greet
Old Hadley's loyal sons who homeward
turn
Their world-sick eyes and dream to find
again
The solace of the past, the refuse sweet
That evi r hallows, ever glorifies
The background of the years.
The homestead gone!
A blackened pile, a mocking void, to tell
The swift destruction of a century's pride:
The weather-beaten monument to fame
Brave Hooker won, and we have shared,
laid low:
The shrine of many generations past.
Where love and cheerful sacrifice of self
Crowned Joy and sorrow with their fade
less wreaths,
Consumed and vanished in a breath of
flame.
The friendly shelter of the shelterless,
Where widowed hearts made homeless
ones a home,
To ashes turned; —and they, who humbly
toiled,
And shared unstintlngly, through whiten
ing years
Of gentle, patient, noble womanhood.
Made homeless in an hour!
Oh! tell us why
Our human hearts shall not in grief rebel
And seek some sane and fair solution here
Of these world-mysteries that overwhelm
In doubt and darkness every fitful gleam
Of finite equity in the plan Divine?
In vain our questioning—ln vain reply!
We only know there is a faith sublime,
A vision clear, of love and duty born,
That comes to bless these handmaids of
His love;
A steadfast, tranquil, harbor light beyond
These troubled seas, undlmmed by storm I
or stress.
Meanwhile these chastened aouls rebuke
our 'plaints
That we should dare to analyze the cross
They bear so bravely, trustingly and—
wait!
—Hannah Warner, In Springfield (Mass.)
Republican.
[Copyright, IBQ7. by Longmans, Green & Co ]
SYNOPSIS.
Chapter I—D'Auriac, commanding out
post where scene Is laid, tells the story,
De Ciomeron has been appointed by Gen.
de Hone to examine into a charge made
against him. Nicholas, a sergeant, brings
In two prisoners, a man and a woman, who
are from the king's camp at Le Fere.
D'Auriac,angered by Insulting manner of de
Comeron toward the woman, strikes him.
A duel follows, and during the commotion
the prisoners escape. De Hone happens on
the disorderly scene, and d'Auriac, upon
giving his parole not to attempt escape,
hears this remarkable sentence: "To-mor
row you must die on the field. Win or
lose, if I catch you at the close of the day,
1 will hang you as high as Haman."
Chapter ll—D'Auriac next morning takes
his place as usual on de Rone's staff. In
the course of his ride over the field he saves
the life of Nicholas, the sergeant, who, a
victim of de Gomeron's malice, is four.d In
Imminent danger of almost instant dt ath.
Chapter lll—After the battle In which
King Henry utterly routs de Ron*'* forces,
d'Auriac, lying severely wounded, sees
the forms of a man and woman moving
under cover of the night among the dead
and wounded. They find a goldtm collar
on de Leyva's corpse, and Habettte stabs
Mauginot (her partner) to gain possession
of the prize. After this hideous scene
Henry with a retinue, among whom is the
fair prisoner who had escaped from the
hand of de Goineron, rides over the field.
CIIA PT E R III.—CON tin L- ED.
I was learinig the lesson that love
comes on a man like a thief in the night,
aud. unconsciously to myself, madame
had climbed on a pinnacle in my heart,
and the thought that 1 had deceived
my-solf in my estimate of her moved me
to sudden anger, and stalled the cry for
help that was rising to my lips—l would
have no help from her and her friends.
In the meantime the king was busily
engaged in writing his dispatch on a
email tablet, which he rested on the
pommel of his saddle.
As lie was thus engaged, n little shriv
eled old man pushed his horse beside
Mme. de Beaufort, and said in mincing
tones as hard as steel: "Come, madame,
your brother has met a soldier's death,
and no Frenchman can hope for a bet
ter—or he is safe and well somewhere.
Dry your tears, and rejoice at the glo
rious victory we have won." The duch
ess made some answer in a broken voice,
and the king, hearing her, stopped
writing and put his tablet away.
"D'Ayen speaks rightly, though he
speaks from the head. God keep us
from more scenes like this. As for your
brother, I w ill not rest till there is new s
of him; but now we can do no more.
Oome, then—open your pretty eyes and
we will go —there is much on hand."
1 was a hot-headed fool and furious ia
those days, and I set my teeth together
grimly as they made ready to start,
swearing I would rather die than make
the slightest signal for aid. They rode
past quite close to me, Madame de
Beaufort weeping at the king's bridle
hand, and his majesty sucking ut a nec
tarine lie had pulled from his holster.
Madame was immediately behind, and
as she came up to me, our eyes met with
instant recognition. In a moment her
cheek had crimsoned and paled, and
she reined in with aery:
"Stop—halt!"
They had all surrounded me now, and
I heard quick orders given.
"lie is past mending," said d'Ayen,
bending over me from his saddle, "a
gentlen an, too, it seems. Let him lie
there —he will die very soon, poor
devil!"
"Moil Dieu! No!" broke in the duch
ess, and toadume looked at the speaker
with a cold contempt.
"He is the only man living here," and
the strong accent of the Bearnais came
as from a distance. "Ventre-saint-Gris!
But they fought like paladins, and,
Frenchman or foreigner, he shall be
saved if it car. be done."
"Sire," said a soft voice, "you are the
true king of the brave."
Then two men-at-arms raised me with
>ugh tenderness on their crossed
pears, and inflicted on me in their
kindness the most infinite torture. The
king himself pressed a flask of wine to
my lip l -, and. as I drank, greedily, two
cool hands held up my head. Then we
moved on slowly, mad ame refusing to
ride, but walking by my side, and sup
porting my burning head.
CHAPTER IV.
THE CHATEAU DE LA BIDACTHE.
Months had passed since I shook
hands with death in the cornfield by the
banks of the Oise, and the grass was
tall and green on the mounds around
La Fere, which marked the graves of
those who fought and died there. It
was autumn now, and as 1, well and
strong again, walked down the long
avenue of beeches that led to the park
gates of Bidaehe, 1 let my memory run
back to the days in the hospital of Ste.
Genevieve,whither I was borne from the
field, and above all, to the tall, slight,
black-robed figure that came to see me
daily, and for whose coming I used to
long with an infinite desire. Who or
what she was 1 cared not, and reckless
ly abandoned myself to the feelings
that were aroused in my heart. I shall
not forget what happened one after
noon. A long gallery in the convent of
Ste. Genevieve had been turned into a
ward, and here the wounded lay on pal
lets with a walking space between. Ow
ing to madame's kindness I was com
fortably quartered at the end of the gal
lery, and a screen had been set between
me and the other patients. I was gain
ing strength daily, and, at the moment
I speak of, was in a state between sleep
ing and waking, when I heard a laugh
and the sound of footsteps, and saw
through the partly open wing of the
screen that my lady had come to make
her daily rounds, not attended, as usual,
only by her women, but by a gayly
dressed cavalier as well, and it w as his
laugh that I had heard. In this person,
dressed in the extreme of fashion, I
made out M. d'Ayen, the same who
had so kindly suggested that I should
be left to die on the field, lie battered
along, holding a kerchief edged with
gold lace to his nose, and ever and
again waving it in the air, whilst he
spoke in a loud tone, regardless of the
looks cast at him by the sisters in at
tendance on the wounded. They came
slowly toward me, for madame stayed
constantly to speak to some maimed
wretch, and I saw her slip money into
the hands of some, and there were kind
words for all. I felt a strange pleasure
in watching her, whilst at the same
time I thought of my past, and how un
fit I was even to nurse such a dream as
my love for her. When within a yard or
so of the screen, madame bent over a
sufferer, and d'Ayen exclaimed in his
biting vciee:
"Morbleu! Madame! But you are the ,
Princess of Charity. Let us hasten to
your interesting patient, however. His
majesty is most anxious to hear of
him."
"His majesty has never done me the
honor to inquire," she answered, coldly.
"You could hardly expect that,
madame. But it came about in this
way. We were at cards, and as usual
I held a bad cassade —"
Ilut madame, to whom his presence
was unwelcome, waited to hear no more,
and, passing the screen, came to my
side, and would have spoken; d'Ayen,
however, cut in with a rudeness for
which I could have run him through.
"My compliments, M. dAuriac. You
are a lucky man. The king takes so
great an interest in you that he has
charged me with a message to you.
His majesty bids me say," and his
bead-like eyes twinkled down on me
from his painted cheeks, and then
turned slyly towards madame.
I was about to make some answer,
when he continued, talking as if his
words were meant for madame as well:
"His majesty trusts you will soon be
recovered and relieve Mme. de la Bi
daehe from the strain of watching you,
and begs me to add that he is of a tem
per that can brook no rival in war —or
love. Let me say, on my own account,
tha-t \v«»u'2l be well if M. le Chevalier
wotLVi tc»ke a change of air."
I Wtcked from one to another in blank
amaze. At the little ape with his cruel
ej es, and at madame, who was still as
a stone. Then she colored to her eye
lids, her hands fell clenched to her side
find she turned on d'Ayen. "Such a
message, monsieur, should not have
been delivered before me. I will take
care that M. d'Auriac has a change of
air; and, monsieur, your presence
oppresses me. I beg you will not
trouble to escort me farther."
Then she turned from us and passed
down the ward, but d'Ayen remained.
"I will kill you for this," I gasped.
He looked at me with a shrug of his
lean shoulders.
"Perhaps—l am ol(l. But you would
do well to take my adivce, monsieur,"
and with a bow he, too, turned and
went.
I was left lost in wonder, utterly in
the dark as to what this all meant, but
determined to find out and bring d'Ayen
to book at the first chance. I made up
my mind to ask the next day. The next
day came, but madame did not, and
then another and yet another day of
dreariness passed. At last some one
told me she had gone with the court to
Nantes, and that I would see her no
more. Later on, when Marescot came
to me, I begged the favor of his getting
me the knot of ribbon he would find in
the left hand breast pocket of the
doublet I wore on the day I was brought
into the hospital.
"You are getting well," he said, and
turned away, but came back in a little
with a wrinkled smile on his lips. "I
cannot find the cordial you want, chev
alier."
I had half raised my head in ex
pectancy as he returned, but sank back
again at his words, and Marescot went
on in his low voice, that sounded like
the humming of a bee: "M. leChevalier,
that bow of ribbon has gone away, so
high up that a taller man than you
could not reach it—forget it. But I have
news for you, which the clumsy fool
who told you of madame's departure
should hav.» given you—you are to goto
Bidaehe shortly, and stay there until
| you are well again. It will not be for
long. After that try the tonic of the
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 15, 1898.
Kalian war—France will bo all plow
shares, now that the king is king."
I caught him by the sleeve. "Tel!
me," I said, weakly, "who is madame,
where is Bidache?"
"Madame is Claude de Bochemars,
widow of Antoine de la Tremouille, and
heiress of Bidache, Pelouse and a quar
ter of the Cevennes-Bidache. Where
yon go is her chateau in Normandy.
Madame," he went on, with a ghost of a
smile on his thin lips, "is kindness her
self. Now, 110 more talk for to-day."
Then lie went and I lay back, as sore
in mind as in body.
Tn a day or so madame's steward of
Bidache arrived, bearing a letter from
her, in which she placed her Norman
chateau at my disposal until 1 was well
again. They moved me here by easy
stages, carrying me in a litter, as I was
too weak to ride, and when I came to
liidache, and was borne to my apart
ments, imagine my joy and surprise at
seeing there my knave Jacques, whom
112 thought to be either dead or home
again at Auriac, and not only Jacques,
but hanging on the wall my own sword,
and the sight of it was like meeting a
tried friend. Later on Jacques in
formed me that after the rout he had
made the best of his way back to the old
rock and stayed there, hoping for news
of me. At last it came, with orders for
him to hurry to Bidache, and he did so,
bearing with him such things as he
thought I needed, as well as a hundred
pistoles of rents. As for the sword, it
had been given to him on his arrival by
madame's orders to keep for me. I had
come to a low ebb by this, and the
money was trebly welcome, as it would
furnish me with a couple of horses, and
leave a round sum besides when I left
Bidache, which I meant to do as soon as
ever I was fit to travel. And now the
time had come for me to depart, and I
was to start that evening. For 40
crowns .laeques had picked up a couple
of stout cobs at Kvreux, and we meant
to leave an hour or so before sundown
and make for Baris, where, if the king
would accept an old leaguer's sword,
he would stay—if not, the world was
wide. I was as far as ever from un
derstanding the strange message that
M. d'Ayen had delivered to me, and felt
myself safe ingoing to Baris, as a gen
eral amnesty covered all our sins of re
bellion—so they were called now.
So absorbed was I in these thoughts
that I did not mark the rapid approach
of a horseman, nor indeed was I aware
of his presence until, when within a few
yards from me, he reined in his plung
ing beast, whose bit and neck were
r, vi"/ j f
jjpli
RAISING MY HAT. I ADVANCED
TOWARDS HER.
white with foam, and lifting his hat re
spectfully, inquired if I was the Cheva
lier d'Auriac, and on my reply ex
claimed: "Madame will be overjoyed.
We heard that you had already left
Bidache, and my lady arrives wit If in
the hour from Kvreux —pardon, mon
sieur, I goto give the news to the
household," and saluting again the
laekey dashed onwards toward the
chateau.
So I would meet her within the hour.
Half unconsciously I glanced down to
see if my doublet set aright and my
points were tied. Then I thought I
would go baek to the house and meet
her there, and, as I did this I looked
at the fall of the plumes in my hat, and
finally laughed aloud at myself for a
coxcomb, took my heart in both hands
and marched onwards toward the gates.
The porter had already been warned,
and on my coming I found him there
and a crowd of yokels, all in a state
of high excitement.
"It is three years since madame was
here, monsieur," the honest fellow ex
claimed to me as I came up, "three
years, and now she comes without a
word of warning—hola! There they are,
and there is madame on the jennet she
purchased from M. le I)uc de Sully—he
was but the Sieur de Bosny then—hola"!
Hola!"
The crowd joined with him in his
cheers, although as yet the party was
far off —not so far, however, that I
could not easily make out the graceful
figure on the jennet, and in the two
riders who accompanied madame. apart
from the half dozen servants behind, I
recognized to my surprise d'Ayen, and
guessed that the gray beard in the tall
crowned broad-brimmed hat, with the
sad-colored cloak over his shoulders,
was no other than the old Huguenot,
whose zeal had outrun his discretion,
on the night when I saved madame
from a great peril.
This guess of mine I hazarded aloud
to the gatekeeper, who replied:
"Yes, M. le Chevalier, that is Maitre
Balin, madame's chaplain, and lie was
also chaplain to M. le Compte before he
died."
"When was it that M. le Compte died?"
"Let me see, monsieur—ah, yes—four
years ago, in Baris, at the time of the
plague. He was a great lord, as you
may know, and brother of the duke,
who they say has quarreled with the
I king because of his conversion, and of
Mine. Charlotte, the princess of Conde,
who lives in the Bue Clrenillc."
As madame lifted her head our eyes
met, and, raising my hat, I advanced
towards her, the people giving way re
spectfully. My ears were buzzing, and
I was as shy and nervous as a school
boy, as I bowed over her gloved hand
and touched it with my lips.
"Let. me welcome you back to health,
chevalier," she said, "and say how glad
I am to be able, even for a short while,
to do the honors of my poor house in
person to you. News came to us that
you had already left Bidache—without
even a word to me," her voice dropped
a little as she said this, but the tone
was cool and friendly, nothing more.
"I go to-night, madame."
"So soon ? But I understand why, and
will not press you to stay—here is one
who, like myself, has longed for an op
portunity to thank you in person. Mon
pere," and she turned to the Huguenot
priest, "this is our friend to whom we
owe so much."
"In the service of the Lord one would
willingly lay down life," said Balin, as
he shook me warmly by the hand,
"nevertheless a few hours more of the
world for an old man is a grace not to
be despised, and I thank the instrument
that has bestowed this benefit upon me."
D'Ayen, between whom and myself
there had passed ro greeting, now spoke
In a voice that fairly trembled with
anger.
"I was not aware that I should have
the pleasure of meeting you here, M. le
Chevalier. It will surprise the king,"
he added, in a lower tone to madame.
I made no answer, but the memory
of his warning and my determination
to settle with him came tip in full force.
Madame, however, spoke.
"M. d'Ayen, when, by the order of the
king, you were directed to escort me to
Bidache, there was nothing said about
your right to dictate to me w ho shall Vie
my guests. Remember, monsieur, that
your company is forced upon me, and
let me add that you are a trifle too
paternal."
D'Ayen paled under liis rouge, and,
muttering something, remained back a
pace.
Madame signaled a lackey to dis
mount and offer me his beast.
"I cannot allow you to walk, and we
will reach the house quicker in this
way, besides I want to hear all your
news. My friends," and she turned to
the people, "come to Bidache; it is long
since we have met, and I would have
you there to make merry as of old —
come, chevalier."
In the cheers which followed, she
touched her horse lightly on the shoul
der with her whip and galloped on, Ba
lin and lon either hand, and the suite
behind. In a little she slackened pace,
saying with a laugh: "We are going too
fast to talk, chevalier, and I am a wom
an, you know, and must hear myi own
voice if nothing else—so yon are quite
well and strong again."
"I am, madame, thanks to your kind
ness, which Alban de Breuil can never
forget."
Her color deepened slightly. "It is
the other way, chevalier, the debt is on
my side."
"I have done nothing—and the repay
ment was too much."
"I am sorry you think so," looking
straight between her horse's ears.
"I did not mean that —I have already
said I can never requite your kindness,
and if madame ever needs a stout arm
and a good sword, it is my hope she
w ill call on that of Auriac."
"Perhaps I may some day," she an
swered. "for the blood of my fathers
runs strong in me."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
TOYS OF THE POOR.
Herein in a Pathetic I.lttle Contrast
lletween Two Children and
Their I'lay.
Behind tho grated gate of a large gar
den, at) the end of which appeared the
whiteness of a country house splendid
iu the sun, a handsome child was stand
ing, dressed with coquettish simplicity.
Luxury, freedom from care, the ha
bitual sight of wealth, gives such
beauty to these children that you would
believe them to be wade. of other clay
than that which forms the children of
moderate circumstances or proverty.
By his side on the grass was a costly
plaything, as spick and span as its own
er; varnished, gilded, clothed in a pur
ple robe, covered with plumes and glass
beads. But the child paid no attention
to his favorite plaything. This is what
he was looking at:
On the other side of the gate, in the
road, among thistles and nettles, there
was another tot, dirty, pitiful, face
smooched with soot, a pariah child. An
impartial eye would discover his beauty
if, as the eye of a connoisseur divines
an ideal picture tinder a coating of
coach varnish, he should clean it of the
disgustingoxidation of extreme poverty
and" neglect.
Through the symbolical barrier sep
arating two worlds, the open road and
the country house, the poor child
showed to the rich child his own play
thing, which the latter examined greed
ily as a rare and unknown thing. Now,
this toy, which the dirty urchin teased,
shook about and' poked at in a wire box,
was a live rat. The parents, through
economy, no doubt, had taken this play
thing from life itself.
And the two children laughed in
brotherly fashion, and their teeth were
of an equal whiteness.—Boston Jour
nal.
Ac cord 111 pr to Ortlers.
Friends of the condemned secured a
writ of suspension at the last moment,
and the western sheriff was hurriedly
telegraphed: "Suspend." The next day
the prisoner's counsel arrived. "Where
is the prisoner?" he asked.
"Over at the undertaker's," replied
the sheriff. "I suspended him accord
ing to orders."—Philadelphia North
American.
Heroic Treatment.
Patiient—What remedy would yon ad
vise for sleep walking, doettor?
Dr. Bluff -Amputation el the feel
sir.—N. Y. World.
KNEW HE DID WRONG.
Kx*Ca"liler Steele ♦ —lilii * About the
Affairs of the Chestnut Street Na
tional Itanli.
Philadelphia, Bee. 10. The govern
ment rested its case yesterday iri the
trial of William Steele, cashier of the
wrecked Chestnut Street national
bank, charged with conspiracy with
President Singerly in the misapplica
tion of the funds of the institution
and making false reports of the
bank's condition to the comptroller of
the currency. Before closing the ease
the prosecution examined several wit
nesses, among them three of the
bank's directors. These directors ad
mitted that they had never made
personal examination of the bank's
affairs. They had at times been in
formed that President Singerly had
overdrawn his account, hut they had
every confidence in the president's
financial ability to settle in full.
Cashier Steele's testimony in general
was an admission that he knew all
the time of the condition of the bank
and excessive loans being made to
Singerly. lb- said this condition was
known by the directors and also by
the officials in Washington. His tes
timony with regard to the officials at
Washington was ruled out. Mr. Steele
laid particular stress upon the fact
that he never benefitted in any way
whatever bv the manipulation of the
bank's funds 'by Mr. Singerly, and
that he never attempted or intended
to withhold the true condition of the
bank from the directors and the offi
cials at Washington. lie admitted that
he knew it was illegal to make such
excessive loans as were made to Sin
gerly. The defense closed its case and
District Attorney Beck made his first
address to the jury, in which he with
drew one of the counts in the indict
ment. that of personal misapplication
of funds.
A PAIR OF WRECKS.
Series of Fatalities on a Itallroad in
IC!k County, I'a.
Dubois, Pa., Dec. 10.—Three persons
killed, three wounded, and the moth
er of one victim dying of the shock
caused by her son's death, is the re
sult of two wrecks on the Clarion
River railroad near Portland Mills, in
Elk county. A train loaded with pulp
wood was being hauled down the
steep grade near Portland Mills and
the rear end was left on top of the
hill, owing to thv slippery tracks.
While the front end was descending,
the rear of the train became unman
ageable and dashed down the hill,
crashing into the front section. Both
sections were wrecked and Brakeman
Thomas Breshelman, on the front sec
tion. was killed. An engine with a
crew of five men was ordered back
to clear up the wreck.
The work was completed and while
the train was returning the engine
jumped the track and rolled over an
embankment. Of the crew on board
at the time the engineer, Ilarry Car
man. was fatallj injured and died a
few minutes after being extricated.
Foreman Daniel Myers was rescued
and has since died and three brake
men. Sowers. CasskWand McKnight,
were all badly injured. When Car
man's invalid mother was acquainted
of her son's death, she lapsed into un
consciousness and her death is mo
mentarily expected.
POWDER MILLS EXPLODE
Three Men Killed an<l ICl<jJit Injured
Three of the Latter Jlaj Hie.
Wilmington, Del., Dec. 10. —Three
men were killed and eight injured,
three of them probably fatally, by
the explosion of a press mill and
four grinding mills in the Dtipont
powder works yesterday. The dead
a re:
Robert Mcllhentiy. 45 years old.
married, leaves widow and four chil
dren.
John Wright, 50 years old, married.
John Moore, 40 years old, married,
leaves widow and five children.
Immediately after the explosion
every Wilmington physician who
could be communicated with was sum
moned to the scene of the explosion,
to render aid to the wounded. The ex
plosion occurred in the press room
of the Ilagley works. A car load of
powder that was being wheeled into
the room was accidentally overturned
and the car wheels running into the
loose powder caused a friction that set
the powder afire. The explosions
quickly followed, 'all the powder that
was in the press room going off in
five successive detonations.
Boer* Defeated by Tribesmen.
London, Dec. 10.—The Cape Town
correspondent of the Mail says the
campaign instituted by the Boer gov
ernment asrainst Chief McPefu. of the
Magatos tribe, proved a complete,
fiasco. The chief outmaneiivered the
Boers and is now in a splendidly forti
fied mountain stronghold where he
has assembled a large army. C.en.
Joil'bert, the commander of the Boer
expedition sent against the chief, is
returninsr to Pretoria. The P.oers have
been guilty of wholesale butchery of
women, children and unarmed natives.
Murderer < a|>tlirc«l.
Liberty. Mo., Dec. 10. — Ernest Clev
ereng. who murdered Henry Allen and
fatally wounded his cousin, Delia
Clevereng in a church near Missouri
City Thursday night, was lodged in
jail here Friday. A posse of farmers
captured thc'inurderer at the house of
his grandfather. Clevereng has a gun
shot wound on his livid and admits lie
ried to suicide after his escape from
the church.
a t'nr from the Track.
Salt Lake. I'tah. Dec. 10.—This sec
tion was visited by a severe wind
storm Thursday night which did con
siderable damage. Between this city
and Ogden a loaded freight car on the
Oregon Short Liite was blown from
the track while the train was in mo
tion.
Sixty Died on the Voyatre.
Barcelona. Dec. 10. The Spanish
steamer Bueuos \yres. from Manila,
arrive?! hero Friday with repatriated
Spanish troops on board. There were
00 deaths on the steamer while on Iter
voyage from the Philipp'nes to Spain.
SSOO Reward
The above Reward will be paid for ia,
"■vmation that will lead to the arrest
conviction of the party or parties wha
placed iron and slabs oo the track of tha
Emporium &. llicfa Valley R- R-, nean
he east line of Franklin H outlier's farm,.
>Q the evening of Nov. 21at, 1891.
Uenrt ACCHO,
88-tf. J\m?lrnt.
Fine Liquor Stokb
IK
EMPORIUM, PA.
THE undersigned has opened a flrsV
claes Liquor store, and invitea Uia.
trade or Ho tela, Raataorante, Jto.
We shall carry none but the beat Aai*x~
lean and Imported
WHISKIES,
BRANDIES.
GINS AND
WINES,
BOTTLED ALE, CHAMPAGNE, Etoj
Cbolee line of
Bottled Goods.
r addition to wy large line of )fqaon I eajrey,
constantly la stock a fuL line of
CIGARS AND TOBACCO.
Bwrool and Billiard Room In «UM balldl
CALL A>'D f-KK ME
A. A. McDONALD,
PROPRIETOR, EMPORIUM. PA.
Tf. X. BLUMLE, I
<F EMFOBIUM, VJL.
W Bottler ml and Dealer «J» J\
& WINES, jjj
& WHISKIES, &
And Liquors of All Kinda. «M|
The beat of goods always J*(
w carried in stock and every- £u|
rjj thing warranted aa represent-
P Especial Attention Paid te W:
X- flail Orders. M
W LMPORIUM, PA. $
} GO TO \
sJ. A- fliiislef'S, J
J Broad Street, Emporium, Pa., J
J Where you can jet anything you want in V
C the lice of [
s Groceries, )
l Provisions, ?
y FLOUR, SALT MEATS,
C SMOKED MEATS, V
J CANNED GCODB, ETC., )
J Tew, Coffees, Fruits, C#Bf«UoE»rj, /
S Tobact« and Clgari. C
\ Good* Delivered Free any /
/ Place In Town. S
I cm k'.D SEE IK IH> GET PRICES. \
( lEIR P. i E. DEPOT C
ESIPORII'X
Bottling Works,
JOHN McDONALD, Proprietor.
Hear P. it E. Depot, Emporium, Pa.
1
Bottler and Shipper of
Rochester
Lager Beer,
BEST BUMS OF EVfOliT.
The Manufacturer of Son
Drinks and Dealer in Choice
Wines and Pure Llqnora.
We keep none but the very been
Beer and are prepared to fill Orders on
ifeort notice. Private families served
isilj If desired.
JOHN McDONALD.
I nrt t'H, r ' nrili .il- ,
112 rot conducted for MODERATE FEES. <»
Soun orrtec is OPPOSITE U. 8. PATENT OPries; |
)aml we can secure j*.aieni IU less tune than tno*c ( ,
112 remote from Washington. < 1
i Seed model, drawing or photo., with descnp-i J
J don, Wo advise, if patentable or not, free of,
'charge. Our foe not duo till natent Is secured. , •
II a PAMPHLET, tk How to Obtain Patents," withi [
oonc of tamo in* the U. S. and foreign countries; ,
*eut free. Address, <
' C.A.SNOW&CO.I
| OFF. R«TT»T OFICT, W»S«LL»(LTON. D. C. I
18* o'H VttJE*N CHSCAGO
fc* MEW YORK :™;
. L h. KEILCGQ *EWSFI»EB CO.