6
TWENTY-ONE.
The heart Is young, the step Is light.
The voice Is sweet, the eye la bright,
Hope sings a s vug of |>ure delight
At twenty-one.
Harely we know a passing tear,
Care we have none, and little fear.
With song and jest our bark we steer
At twenty-one.
Too soon, however, comes dull csre,
life's work and battle we must share,
Quickly we reach, 'mid storm and glare,
Twice twenty-one.
But they who read life's problem right
Their courage keep, with heart as light
As when they started for the fight
At twenty-one.
Long may you sail upon life's sea,
'Mid Fortune's smiles and far.cy free,
With friends as true as true can be.
Sweet twenty-one.
Though Time his flight he ne'er can stay
(The cheek will pale, the hair turn gray).
In heart, in mind, in spirit gay.
As love-song tuned to minstrel lay.
Rest ever what you are to-day,
Just twenty-one.
—London St. Paul's.
**' lf * TT ~ rcAT% '
[Copyright. xßq7, by Longmans, Green & Co ]
SYNOPSIS.
Chapter I—D'Auriac, commanding out
post where scene is laid, tells the story.
De Gomeron has been appointed by Gen.
de Hone to examine Into a charge made
again:* him. Nicholas, a sergeant, brings
la 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
Ootneron toward the woman, strikes him.
A duel follows, and during the commotion
the prisoners escape. De Rone happens on
the disorderly scene, and d'Auriac, upon
giving his parole not t.o attempt escape,
h«ars 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,
I will hang you as high as Haman."
Chapter ll—D'Auriac next morning takes
his place as usual otv de Rone's staff. In
the course of his ride over the field he naves
the life of Nicholas, the sergeant, who, a
victim of de Gomeron's malice, Is found In
Imminent danger of almost Instant death.
Chapter lll—After the battle in which
King Henry utterly routs de Rone's forces,
d'Auriac, lying severely wounded, sees
the forms of a man and woman moving
under cover of the nlglit among the dead
and «ounded. They find a golden collar
on de Leyva'B corpse and Babette stabs
Mauglnot (her partner) to gnin possession
of the prize. After this hideous scene
Henry with a retinue, among whom is the
i"air prisoner who had escaped from the
iband of de Gomeron, rides over the Held.
Chapter IV—D'Auriac in the hospital of
Bte. Genevieve discovers his unknown
frier.d is the heiress of Hidache. She vis-
Its him daily, and when he is well enough
U taken to her Normandy chateau. Here
he learns from Maltre Palin, themadame's
chaplain, that the king is about to force
upon the woman a very distasteful mar
riage with M. d'Ayen. With Jacques, his
•teward, d'Auriac leaves for the avowed
jpurpose of preventing their marriage.
Chapter V D'Auriac's horse casts a
ihoe. This causes a delay at vi.iage of
Ezy, where he comes upon Nicholas, his
old sergeant, who says de Gomeron Is In
•the neighborhood with the king's commis
sion, and that he (Nicholas) has evidence
of treason brewing among de Gomeron and
certain associates against the king.
Chapter Vl—Led by Nicholas, d'Auriac
Roes by night to where de Gomeron is sta
tioned. Standing beside a broken pane
they hear something of the outline of a plot
against the king. Burning with rever.ge,
Nicholas fires through the window at de
-Gomeron, but misses his mark.
Chapter Vll—The two men fly for their
lives, and think themeselves almost beyond
pursuit when they come suddenly to
face with Piron, one of the traitors to the
king, whom d'Auriac cuts down, and with
de Gomeron, who makes short work of
Nicholas, d'Auriac escapes.
Chapter VIII —He comes to Rouvres
where Jacques, by previous arrangement,
had prepared to have him received; from
there he goes direct to Paris.
Chapter IX—D'Auriac takes up lodgings
In Paris, and lays what he knows of the
treachery in the army and among the no
bles before Sully, master general of the
ordnance, who advises him to keep himself
as much confined as possible.
Chapter X—Calling on de Belln. a friend
living in Paris, the chevalier secures from
him a servant, named Ravaillac (whom de
Tselin had won from d'Ayen at dice) to
temporarily take the place of Jacques. He
learns marriage of d'Ayen and Madame de
la Bidache is to take place In a fortnight.
•De Belin is to be d'Ayen's sponsor.
Chapter Xl—Maitre Palln appears in
Pari3 in attendance upon Madame de la
Bidache, cornea to see d'Auriac and out
lines to him a plan for the madame's
escape into Switzerland. D'Auriac crosses
the river, meets d'Ayen, who throws him
his glove, which almost forces him into a
ducfl on the spot. Forced by the danger to
himself of such a disturbance on the street,
ihe flees, eluding the guards only by plung
ing into the river and swimming to his own
«lde.
Chapter Xn—D'Auriac has his suspicions
aroused concerning his new servant, Rav
aillac. Later he witnesses a meeting of the
Bervant and de Gomeron. D'Auriac there
upon returns him to his former servfee us~
der de Belln.
CHAPTER Xn.— CONTINUED.
I determined, therefore, togo up to
my room and await die Belin'scoming,
and on my opening the door of my sit
ting-room saw, 'to my surprise, a man
-apparently dozing in my armchair. The
noise of my entrance awoke him. He
jumped up, and I recognized my friend.
"Belin! what good wind has blown
you here? But how did you come in?
There is no one in the house."
"There -was when I came in, my
friend. Do you know"—and he looked
me in the face —"you have made a
tness of things?"
"You know already! Belin, I have
Juat been to see you about it. The
whole affair was forced on me."
"Partly. It.was lucky I was there
and sober enough to think of cutting
the cord of the lamp. You vanished,
as 1 thought you would, and I have
beeu attending to your affairs ever
eince then. Any other man would have
laid by the heels ere this, bat the
stars fought for you."
"Any other man who had not friend
like you, Lisois. But do you really
mean that I am safe from arrest?"
"I think so, from any court under
the edicts of Blois; but I had a devil
of a dance."
"You have been goodness itself."
"My dear fellow, let that rest. All
(hat you have to do now is to come with
me this afternoon, put your ca.se to the
Ving, and I lay a hundred crowns to a
tester you hear no more of the little af
fair of last night,. But I must be go
ing. Meet me at the Hue de Botirdon
nais at one exactly, and I will take you
to the Louvre, and now good-byl"
He rose and gave me his hand.
"But surely there is no need for you
togo now? Dine with ine at my ordi
nary; I have much to "tell you."
Tap! tap! tap! It was Dame An
nette's little knock at my door, and
I knew it was something of import that
had brought her to my room.
"One moment, Belin!" and, opening 1
the door, I saw Mme. Pantin standing
there in breathless agitation.
"What is it, madatne? Come in and
speak freely; there is only my friend,
Compte de Belin, here."
"It is nothing, monsieur," she said
loudly, and then dropping her voice to
a whisper; "Ravaillac was out last
nig-ht. Pantin was deceived. I have
come up to tell you so at once; be rid
of him. I am asked to tell you this by
a friend."
"A hundred thanks! I hare parted
with him, and he will not trouble us
more. But who is this friend who
takes so great an interest in me?"
"You have company, monsieur," she
answered with a bobbing curtesy; "I
will not intrude any long-er." And with
out another word she turned and went
away.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE LOUVRE.
It wanted full ten minutes to the hour
when I rode through the gates of the
Hotel de Belin, and a moment or so
after was with my friend, lie was
standing in the great hall as I entered,
in the midst of a small, but brilliantly
dressed group of cavaliers. On my be
ing announced, however, he came for
ward to meet me with outstretched
arms.
"I'ardieu!" he exclaimed, stepping
back a half pace after our greeting, "so
you have dropped the Huguenot? We
poor devils will have but a bad time of
it if you turn courtier."
"Is that likely?" I asked, a little bit
terly, and then, in a low tone, "have you
made Ravaillac safe?"
"lie has made himself safe," he whis
pered; "he is gone."
"Gone!"
"Yes—vanished. It is perhaps best
so. We will discuss him later," and
raising his voice, "come, let me present
you to my friends," and he led me to his
companions, who, gathered in a little
knot near the huge fireplace, stood sur
veying me with a well-bred curiosity.
"Gentlemen, permit me to introduce
my old comrade, the Chevalier d'Auriac
—the Due de Bellegarde, whom we all
call M. le Grand, the Viscompte de
Vitry, the Seigneur de Valryn and! the
Chevalier d'Aubus-son, who, like you,
d'Auriac, is new to the court."
"And who is delighted to meet with
an old acquaintance, and trusts that M.
de Preaulx is in as g'ood a way."
"As the company from Paradise—eh,
chevalier?" I put in.
"Fairly hit," exclaimed the lieuten
ant, and then he must needs tell the
story of our little adventure, at which
there was much laughter, and it was
easy to see that the marshal and Zamet
had no friends in the Itue de Bourdon
nais.
"Come, gentlemen," said de Belin,
"if we delay longer we shall miss tlie
cinque-pace—one health round and let
us start."
As he spoke a number of long-necked
glasses filled with the wine of cham
pagne were brought to us. Holding his
glass high above his head, de Belin
called out:
"Gentlemen—the king."
The toast was drunk with a cheer in
which my voice alone was still, but I
joined with the others in shivering my
glass in fragments on the white marble
of the floor, and then, a gay, laughing
crowd, we took horse for the Louvre.
As we approached the sight before
us was gay beyond description. All the
good commons of Paris had thronged
to see the court reopen, and to catch a
glimpse and perhaps a wave of the hand
from the king whom they now loved
with their whole hearts. They came al!
in their gayest, and as the cheerful
crowd swayed backward and forward
be3'ond the long line of guards that
kept the entrance to the palace free, it
was for all the world like a bank of
flowers stirred by the wind.
Absorbed as I was in my own trou
bles, I could not restrain a feeling of
pride that rose within me at the scene.
Down through that roaring crowd, that
cheered them again and again as they
f.assed, it was as if all the old historic
names of France had gathered to do
honor to the day. And I felt, too, as I
looked at the endless sea of heads, that
this was 110 longer a France, at mur
derous war with itself, but a united
and powerful nation, that was being
led onward to its destiny by the strong
hand of a man who had quenched a
fratricidal struggle, and for the mo
ment I forgot how small he could be
who was yet so great.
The throng was so thick that for a
time we were unable to gain a passage,
and were compelled togo at a walking
pace, and Belin, reining in his fretting
beast, exclaimed: "Faith, 'tis the
largest gathering I have ever seen."
"All France is here to-day," said de
Valryn. "There go d'Ossat and his em
inence, fresh from the quirinal."
By this time I had collected myself
in some degree, and began to try and
rapidly rehearse in my mind what I
should say when I came face to face
will the king; but I am not ashamed to
confess that at each attempt I found
m3'self getting more and more hopeless
ly confused, and, finally dropping the
effort, determined to let the occasion
find its own words. At last we were on
the stairway, and in twentj' minutes had
entered the great hall which Henry had
built himself, and which was known as
the Galerie d'Apollon. Except for the
vacant space around the still empty
throne, the full leugth of its seventy
yards was almost as much crowded as
the hall below; but here the music was
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 1899.
much louder, though the laughter and
talk was not less merry and incessant.
There was not, of course, nearly so
much movement, and the people were
more or less gathered in little knots or
groups, though there were many gay
butterflies flitting from one of these to
the other.
"Keep by me," said de Belin, and al
most as he spoke we came face to face
with Travannes, de Gie and de Cosse-
Brissac, all dressed in the extreme of
fashion. Belin saluted coldly, but my
heart warmed toward my old comrades
in arms, and I stretched out my hand.
This de Gie took limply, but Travannes
and de Cosse-Brissac contented them
selves with bows of the politest cere
mony. The Vicomte de Gie was, how
ever, effusive in speech if chill in man
ner. "It is not every one who could
tear a hole in the edict as you have
done, d'Auriae,"he said, and then added
with a smile, "but who made your
cloak? 'Tis a trifle longer than we wear
it here."
"It is short enough for me to see tl.t
king in," I answered, a little crisply.
"The king!" excluimed both Tra
vannes and Ilrissac,, a marked interest
in their tones.
"My dear fellow," said de Gie, inter
rupting my reply, "I knew you would
fall on your feet—see here," and, step
ping right up to me, he threw open my
cloak slightly with a turn of his wrist,
"wear it so, d'Auriac; it shows your
cross of St. Denis now," then, dropping
his voice, "friend or foe—are you for
the marshal or the master general?"
"I am here for a short time," I re
plied. "I have come to see the king. I
neither understand nor care about your
intrigues."
"I understand perfectly, monsieur,"
he said, falling back, a half smile on
his lips, and bowing to each other we
passed on iu different ways, they
down and I up the hall to join de Belin,
who had gone a few paces ahead.
"The king is still in his cabinet," he
said, pointing to a closed door, before
which a sentry stood on guard. "I go in
at once. When I come out let it be the
signal for you to join me. I will then
present you, and mind, speak freely."
"I mean to," I answered, and with a
nod he passed up through the press. I
leaned against the pillar near which I
was standing, and surveyed the crowd.
Madame was nowhere there, or else I
had missed her. Perhaps it was better
so, for did I see her I might be un
nerved, and here Bellegarde joined ine.
"Do you see her?" he asked.
"See whom?" I answered, with a start
and an eager look around.
"La belle Henriette. See, there she
stands! A little court around her, with
the brightest eyes and the sharpest
tongue in France. I wager a hundred
pistoles she will rule us all some day."
As events showed, Bellegarde was
right, though that concerns not this
story.
"Ah! There is Pimental—one mo
ment, chevalier," and he left me to join
HE WAS PRESSING THE TIPS OF HER
FINGERS TO HIS LIPS.
his friend. I was again alone, and re
signed myself to patience, when a voice
seemed to whisper over my shoulder:
"if M. le Chevalier will kindly survey
the other side of the room, perhaps he
will be equally interested."
I turned round sharply. There was
no one whom I could recognize as the
person who had addressed me. On the
other hand, however, I blessed him in
my heart, for not ten feet away was
madame, radiant and beautiful, with
l'alin by her side, and M. d'Ayen, with
his arm in a silken sling, bowing be
fore her. He was pressing the tips of
her fingers to his lips when our eyes
met, and, drawing away her hand, she
made a half-movement toward me. I
was by her side in a moment, and, as we
shook hands, she said, with a smile:
"So we have met again, chevalier! In
the Louvre, above all places," this with
a slight rising of color.
"I thought I had missed you. I was
looking for you everywhere, and had
given you tip. Of course, 1 knew you
were in Paris."
"But the Hue Varenne was too distant
a land to journey to? Come," she add
ed, as I began to protest, "give me
your arm and take me there," she in
dicated the upper end of the room;
"the crush is not so great there—it is
frightful here. M. d'Ayen will, I knew,
excuse me." Here d'Ayen, who stood
glaring at me, and biting the red feath
ers in his hat which he held in his hand,
interposed: "I was in hopes that ma
dame would give me the pleasure," he
began—
"Another day, perhaps, baron," I cut
in, rudely enough. "I trust," I added,
in a kinder tone, "that your arm does
not incommode you."
"It will heal soon," he said. In a thick
voice, and turned away abruptly.
"He is very angry," madame said, fol
lowing him with her eyes.
"That will heal, too, I hope—this way is
easiest, I think," nnd I moved onward
with my charge, still, however, keeping
an eye on the door of the cabinet.
And now, as we made our way slowly
toward the upper end of the room, I be
gan to get tongue-tied, and madame,
too, said nothing. Finally I blurted
out: "I am to see the king in n few
minutes."
She looked down and half whispered'
"God give you success."
"Amen!" I echoed to her prayer.
And then in a way that pepole have
when their hearts are full of grave
things, we began to talk of matters
light as air.
"The king is late to-day," madam*
said, glancing at the still closed doox
of the cabinet near which a curiou«
crowd had gathered; "perhaps the
cinque-pace will pot come off," she ran
on,"M. de Guiche told me that the king
was to open it with Mile. d'Entragues.
Do you not see her there? That lovely
black-eyed girl, talking to half a dozen
people at once."
"Is she so very beautiful?"
"What a question to ask! Ido not see
a woman in the room to compare with
her."
"To my mind her profile is too hard."
"Indeed!" Madame's face with its
soft though clear outlines was half
turned from me as she spoke. "I sup
pose then you do not care for her—a
man never thinks with a woman in the
matter of beauty. But I did think you
would admire mademoiselle."
"Why should I, even supposing she
was beautiful? To my mind there are
two kinds of beauty."
And here I was interrupted! by the
sound of cheering from the Petite Ga
lerie, and the sudden hush that fell on
the room. As we moved down to see
for whom the crush was parting on
either side, we discovered that it was
the marshal himself, and close at his
heels was Latin, with his sinister smile.,
and a dozen gentlemen, amongst whom
I observed the grim, figure of Adam de
Gomeron. Madame saw the free lance
too, and then turned her eyes to mine.
She read the unspoken question in my
look, her eyes met mine, and through
her half-parted lips a low whisper came
to me: "Sever —never!"
"They are coming straight toward
us," I said. "We will stand here and
let them pass," and, with her fingers
still resting on my arm, we moved a
pace or so aside. As Biron came up
there was almost a shout of welcome,
and he bowed to the right and left of
him, as though he were the king him
self.
"It almost seems as if I shall not have
my interview," I said to madame, a
minute or so later when the commotion
caused by Coiffier had ceased.
"When were you togo in?" she asked.
"As soon as ever M.de Belin came out
to summon me."
"Then there he is," and as she spoke
I' saw the door open and Belin looked
out. "Go," she said, and then our eyes
met and I stepped up to the cabinet.
[TO BE CONTINUED. 1
The t'analnian.
A eanalman, unless there happens to
be a member of his family who can help
him, hires n man called "the hand."
The men wlio run the boats come from
various positions in life to become ca
nalmen. Some have been farmers, who
cwn farms along or near the canal, and
not a few have been born and lived all
all their lives on a canalboat. Perhaps
one of the most unusual cases is that of
a well-educated man, who was former
ly a Methodist minister, but is now, and
has been for several years, living with
his family on one of these boats, and
driving mules for a living.
The majority, however, are rough and
ignorant, and the proverbial swearing
is to be heard in its most repulsive
forms. One notices frequently a lame
cr crippled man in charge of a boat,
since this is one of the few positions in
which a maimed person is able to earn
a livelihood. A canalman's family, if
he has one, lives with him on the boat
during the open season, and the rest
of the year some live on little plots
of ground, often too small to be called
farms, or perhaps they may live in one
of the larger towns near by.—Ethel
Belle Appel, in Godey's Magazine.
I n reasonable.
A clergyman was in his library one
day preparing his Sabbath discourse.
He paused frequently to review what
he had written, and would often erase
a word or sentence and substitute an
other, and his five-year-old son, who
was watchiag him, asked: "Papa, does
God tell you what to preach?" "Cer
tainly, my son," was the reply. "Then
why do you scratch it out?" queried
the little observer.—Troy Times.
I'recautlonarjr.
Rev. Shinbone—"We will nowtetckuip
er collection fow de benefit ob de wid
ers an' orphans ob de congregation;
and as Brudder Erastus passes down de
aisle wif his han's tied behind him, yo'
will kindly drap yo* money in de basket
what is tied to his chest."—-Boston Her
ald.
Ho w She Knew.
May—Bather a morose sort of man,
isn't he?
Madge—Yes; but his heart's in the
right place.
"How do you know that?"
"He told me last night thatl was in
sole possession of it."—Puck.
Great Thing Indeed.
"That luminous paint is a splendid
invention! What do they useitfor?"
"We paint the baby, so we can give
him a drink in the night without light
ing the gas."—Tit-Bits.
A Searee Article.
"Bridget, I told you five times to
hove mufilns for breakfast, naven't
you any intellect?"
"No, mum, there's none in the house."
—Brooklyn Life.
Impediments to Thrift.
If a man gets a dollar ready to put
away for a rainy day he meets two pej
ple selling tickets to amateur shows
when on his way to the bank to deposit
it. —Atchison Globe.
Tlie It i k iijto n.
lie —Why were they married in sue)
haste?
She—Each suspected the other of .
desire to back out.—N. Y, World.
THE WHITE MANS BURDEN.
[By courtesy of McClure's Magazine.
Copyright, IK!>9. by Hudyard Kipling. Ail
rights reserved.]
Take up the White Man's burden-
Send forth the best ye breed—
Go, bind your sons to exile
To serve your captive's need;
To wait, In heavy harness,
On fluttered folk and wild-
Tour new-caught sullen people^
Half devil and half child.
Take up the White Man's burden-*
In patience to abide.
To veil the threat of terror
And check the show of prld»t
By open speech and simple,
An hundred times made plains
To seek another's profit
And work another's gain.
Take up the White Man's burden-*
The savage wars of peace—
Fill full the mouth of Famine,
And bid the sickness ceasei
And when your goal la nearest
(The end for others sought)
Watch sloth and heathen folly
Bring all your hope to naught.
Take up the White Man's burden-
No Iron rule of kings,
But toil of serf and sweeper—
The tale of common things.
The ports ye shall not enter,
The roads ye shall not tread.
Go, make them with your living
And mark them with your dead.
Take up the White Man's burden-*
And reap his old reward— l
The blame of those ye better—
The hate of those ye guard—
The cry of hosts ye humor
(Ah, slowly!) toward the llghtt
"Why brought ye us from
Our loved Kgyptlan night?"
Take up the White Man's burden-*
Ye dare not stoop to less—
Nor call too loud on Freedom
To cloak your weariness.
By all ye will or whisper,
By all ye leave or do,
The silent, sullen peoples
Shall weigh your God and you.
Take up the White Man's burden
Have done with childish days—
The lightly proffered laurel,
The easy ungrudged praise:
Comes now to search your manhood
Through all the thankless /ears,
Cold, edged with dear-bought wisdom,
The judgment of your peers.
—Rudyard Kipling.
SOCIAL TACT.
A Noted Frenchman Who Was MB
Adopt at SmootbiiK
Tbinir* Over.
Mons. Challemel-Lacour, a distin
guished member of the French acad
emy who died lately, was noted for Ills
tact and readiness in social emergen
cies. Both were severely tried upon
one occasion. M. Challemel-Lacour
was sent as ambassador from France
to the Swiss confederation. He called
Indue form on his arrival upon the
president. The servant who opened the
door said that his excellency was m
the cellar bottling wine, but that the
visitor could come in and wait. The
ambassador hung up his overcoat in the
hall and went into the parlor. Pres
ently the Swiss ruler bustled in.
"An ugly job, monsieur!" drying his
hands; "an ugly job! But I always bot
tle my own wine. Pardon my coat-also.
It is a poor fit," glancing down. "It is
my son's, to tell the truth. I hurried it
on without looking at it."
The ambassador bowed and smiled. It
was his own coat.
The interview being over, he went
home shivering. lie sent a mess-en
ger the next day for his "coat, which he
had hung up in the hall."
Of all the qualities once essential to a
sovereign the one most useful now is
tact. Queen Margherita of Italy, who
belongs to a house trained to kingcraft
for more than a thousand years, is said
to be wonderfully skillful in dealing
with social difliculties. An incident
which occurred at one of her drawing
rooms illustrates her readiness and
delicacy.
The persons who are to be presented
at the Uoman court are arranged in a
large semicircle in the throneroom. The
queen enters and passes around the
line, attended by a chamberlain, who
names each person, adding usually a
word or two to give the queen some idea
of their claim to notice. She asks a
question or makes a remark to each
and passes on.
On this occasion there was in line a
young man from South America whose
embarrassment showed itself in pale
cheeks and terrified glances as the
queen drew nearer. At last she reached
him, and stopped. He heard his name,
saw her smile. There was a roaring in
his ears; his knees shook. Every eye
was bent upon hixn with amused inter
est, his terror was so perceptible.
"From Brazil?" she asked. "And
\\%at town in Brazil is your home, sig
nor?"
"I —four majesty—l don't know!" he
gasped.
The whole circle sin Jed; but the
queen's face was as calm as marble.
"You mean that our beautiful Italy al
ready has made you forget your home?
Ah, signor, you are a skillful courtier!
You flatter us too much!" and playfullv
shaking her fan at him, she passed on,
leaving him wondering how he came to
make so brilliant a response, while the
crowd also looked at him, respectfully
bewildered, also.—Youth's Companion.
Egotistical.
"The trouble with him," said the
young man who had been trying to fit
tingly describe an acquaintance, "is
that when he dipped into the sea of
knowledge he thought he brought up
sio much that the blamed thing went
dry."—Chicago Post,
IN the lower German Spreewald
there is a famous market for women's
hair, supplied almost entirely by peas
ant girls, especially those between the
ages of 12 and 13. The industry is car
ried 011 cliietly Viy old women, who se
cure orders from wealthy patrons, and.
with a sample of the sort desired, set
out anion"- the Spreev*« Id peasants ai d
tempt the girls to give them what tiny
seek. The reason for the selection ot
girls of the nge mentioned is that they
are young enough to have, perhaps, a
second or even a third "crop"' of haii
to reward other journeys into there
gioii.
SSOO Reward
The above Reward will be paid for
Vmation that will load te the arrest aad
conviction of the party or parties wh»
plaoad iron and lUb* on the track of tha
Emporium k Rich VaUev R. R., near;
ha eaat line of FraDklia Hotuler's far*,
« the evening of Nor. 21 at, 1891.
Hxnar AUCHU,
88-tf. J\axdrml.
FINE LIQUOR SIORB
—w —
EMPORIUM, PA.
THE nnderslgned has opened a flreV
olaes Liquor store, and invites t±>«,
trade or Hotels* Reetanr&nts, Aa.
We ahall carry none bat th» best
lout and Imported
WHISKIES,
BRANDIES.
GINS AND
WINES,!
BOTTLED ALE, CHAMPAGNE, Et<W
Choice lino ot
Bottled Goods.
raddltlea to mj lar(a Una of llqoom I
ooactaaUy la atoek a fcu Ma* o<
CIGARS AtfD TORACCO.
SVPool and BllHerd Boom tnaame bafldla«.-«U
C*LL ADD HBB MB.
A. A. MCDONALD,
PROPBIKTOH, BMFOBIUM. PA.
— T
& F. X. BLUMLE, ?
A EMPORIUM, PA. M
W Bottler of sad Dealer la 112 .
& BEER,
& WINES, *
M WHISKIES, M
A And Liquors of All Kinds.
jjj The beat ef goods always jjv
w carried In stock aDd erery- >K
rf thing warranted as represent jjjjf
,<( Especial Attention Paid te it
per nail Orders.
§ EMPORIUM, PA. §
J
) GO TOp
U. A. FLTOSLEF'U
1 Bread Street, Enporlun, Pa,,
J Where 7011 can ret anything 70a want ta C
C the line at /
s Groceries, ?
1 Provisions, ?
y FLOUR, SALT HEATS, >
£ SMOKED HEATS, \
) CANNED 600DS, ETC., >
} tut, C«fMa, Frniti, f«Bf«tlonery, )
S ToIIM* tai Clftn. C
V fioeda DalljtreS Free any /
A Place la Town. S
I CM IN SEE ib IN M PRICES. \
112 UIK r. * B. 6EMT (
BB POBIVB
Bottling forks,
IOHN McDONALD, Proprietor. 1
Hear l.tl Depot, Emporium, Pa.
,
Bottler and Shipper ot
Rochester
Lager Beer,
BEST BIUDS OP EYPORT.
The Manufacturer of Soft
Drink* aad Dealer la Choict
Wine* and Pure Llqaora.
We keep none but the very beet
Seer and are prepared to fill Orders on
Cort notice. Private families serve J
Ujr if desired.
JOHN MCDONALD.
Ornat*, aad Trade-Marka tea ' '• » 'at
efltfcu»*««M oond acted for MoDCRATK FtCS. < 1
! Own Orrtct is Opposite U. 8. |
, and we can secure tultent ui leu time tnaa tno*e ( ,
< 'remote from Washington.
'i Send model, drawing or photo., with descr!p-<|
i tio«x. We advise, If patentable or not, free of J,
charge. Our fee not due till patent is secured. < >
A |»am rnLlT, ** How to Obtain Fstents," with i j
oost o7 same m the U. S. and countries;
1 1sent free. Address, <
O. A. SNOW & CO.;
1 C-^j
ia*SH F""N CHICACO
t* NEW YORK,,".£V
. A. a. KELL:QO NIWSPI'IB CO.