Autumn in the Woods. Evary hollow full of ferns, Turning yellow in their turns; Straggling brambles fierce and wild, Yielding berries to the ohild; Oakballs tumbling from the tree, Beechnuts dropping silently, Hosts of leaves come down to die, Leaving openings to the sky; Bluebells, foxgloves, gone 10 seed, Eversthing to death decread; Nothing left of flowers or buds — Such is autuwn in the woods. And 50 is there an Autumn known To the heart, It feels alone, caring its best days are past; Nees the future overcast! Fond acquaintance broken through, Friends departed; friends untrue, Human flowers cold and dead, Covered by a grassy bed; Hopes, late hiossoms putting out, Withered soon, and flung about Hy cruel winds; dread doubts and fears Finding vent in sudden tears. Yes, there is an autumn known lo some hearts thus left alone, Yet there's this thought after all, rervs may fade and leayes may fall, Hearts may change and prove untrue, All may look as these wonds do— Thousl sad autumn here is given, Spriugtitue awaits the just in Heaven, aa LOVE THE ViCTOR. Owen Stanley, huddled in the corner a third-class carriage, was going from Manchester a place in a lawyer's office awaited him, nf va lerstanding with Uncle Also. if Uncle Raymond would g-stone to a better place, As he walked aimlessly down the street after he reached Chatburn he read the name “Cruncher,” Attorney,” beside a dingy office door, with **Cler} Vanted” chalked underneath, He presented himself before Mr. runcher, and after a sharp cross-ques- pi 1 the office, an opportunity of seeing the entire When Lad runcher household in church. service was over Mr. alked grimly forth followed ilent members of his family, 1! evidently in great awe of him. “Louise Lee, nd tight. You stupidly let him trip n the step last Sunday!” said Cruncher in petulant tones, with a look y mnateh, was consolation to bave naine, and It Her ne, suited her. nade an old man? Owen longed and influence, and all the good things of this iife, to take her away from her present bondage, and give her a home tit for But none of these blessings came to him, and he had to ontent himself as best he imight with Louise once a week in church, A princess, leasly book. As he was struggling to recover Louise's hand-held toward of paper. Owen was uncomfortably conscious common way, by her. was folded in two. Je idly pressed it apart with his thumb, and to his as. tonishment read these words, evidently written in fugitive baste: “Look, to-morrow, in ning ning my bat i or » Lule, tence! ix ti Owen never knew, Wien he saw his patron sorbed in a pile of letters, Owen, like a coat and umbrella thief, stole out into the passage where such articles were jeposited, and possessed himself of the sid gentleman's sedate looking hat. There, as he expected, he found stow- ed away in the lining a tiny little note, With trembling fingers the now hope- ful lover laid smooth the complicated folds of the paper and read: “Please do not think me forward or presuming in making the following re- quest: I am in great trouble, To- morrow evening at 7 I shall not be missed for half an hour. Will you meet me at the end of the lane leading past our house-—where the wood begins? 1. LL.” The following evening Owen was at place of rendezvous fully half an too soon. As he was beginning ww despair of Louise's coming she ap- peated breathless and greatly agitated. “What must you think of me,’ she began, “making an appointment with you, almost a stranger, at dusk, in this theatrical manner? 1 have a strong motive in this case, certainly,” con- tinued Louise. *'I wish to ask your advice on a matter of the utmost im- portance to me, I have studied your face as much as 1 dared in church’ — Owen's heart gave a bound of delight, Then she had looked at and thought about him—*“and I think I can trust von ane call you my friend. I have no sther.”” sus looked so lovely with the tears in ser eyes as she sald this that Owen longed 1o take her in his arms and kiss ter, instead of declaring himself her de- voted servant in plain words, it ul Rit down on this fallen tree and I will n my story a in- ning. You men of the law og tieus of unecessary preamble,’’ Louise went on, with a bright smile for a mo- ment dispelling the melancholy cloud. ing her face, “Last February, now nearly four months ago, 1 was traveling alone from here to Clover hill on an errand for my aunt, My companions in the compart. ment were a very pretty old lady, an ordinmy lovking gentlemazn of forty: # # % fF List hour five, and a young man not at all ordi nary looking. “He had large black eyes, with a wild look in them, and his dress and manners were quite different from those of the people I was accustomed to seeing, He sat opposite me, and soon after the train started began star- ing at me in a most annoying way.” “The impertinent rascalll How I wish I had been there to purch his head!” exclaimed Owen with warmid, “Ile perhaps did nothing to merit quite such severe pumshinent, but he was certainly then, and has been since, indirectly the case of a great deal of misery to me, He amused himself for some me with casting what 1 suppos- ed were admiring glances at me, press. ing his hands to his heart, ad sighing profoundly. ‘Phen suddenly, to my utter amaze. ment, he threw himselfon bis knees be- { fore me, declared in very Umfl English | that he loved me to distrac®ion, and, most startling of all, tore off his very hand:ome watch and chain and flung them into my lap.” “The man was mad, of course.” looked at our traveling | companion the middle-aged man al- | ready magntioned-—in helpless fright. | He started up, and, with what I then thought admirable presence of mind, ex- | claimed, angri ¥: i * ‘How dare | ir?” “The strong language had the desir- | ed effect, and the man seemed to shrink and became quiet as a lamb. I suppose believing me to be the wife of somebody else shattered his hopes.” Here again the rare sweet smile lent a new charm to Louise's face, | afterward, 1 you insult my wile, could not prevail gave my admirer, “That was the last lever saw of him, he my rescuer, who laughed and murmur- understand, 1 thanked him as I descended at my des. t he was to friend wished I, who stockings, and told me a to see me in the drawing room, hal no friends, was rauch surprised, Nor did this surprise lessen when 1 was | presented to the wan who had silenced tra.n. Mitchell, and he be an old friend of my ‘Illich as Croesus and a bache- i lor,” my uncle said to me, with a know- “His name was 1 undcie. fel, “1 took a great dislike to Mr, Mitch- ell: in manner and appearance he was | most repugnant to me, But 1 thought | very little about him one way or the { other—~why should I interest i a man older than my father?-—until, a | week later, Uncle Thomas informed i me that Mr. Mitehell wished to marry | me.” “Preposterous!” exclaimed Owen, “1 don't often laugh in the presence of Uncle Thomas, but when he told me this I laughed heartily. This made | my uncle very angry. Why should I make game of the offer of a man of which I might be proud? I. who would be in the workhouse were it not for the charity of my relations. ™ “The brute!” “If I was so silly as not to know on which side my bread was buttered--it was often difficult tell-——he would and that would perhaps bring me to my sense, But why need I tell you the particulars of this and many another most painful scene? 1 was silent and undecided for a while, and at last found courage to tell Mr. Mitchell that I could not warry him. “He listened with a smile, and replied: * ‘My young lady will not al 80 easy as she thinks '?" “Owing to rusty conduct on the part | of your amiable uncle,” interpolated Owen. fo disagreeable find refas. til the next day. Then my aunt in. formed me calmly that I was already marred to Mr, Mitchell,” “Is that good lady subject to such fits of mental aberration?” “I stared at her in amazement, when she proceeded to explain to me that ac- cording to Scotch law, if a man in the presence of a witness says a woman is his wife, and she does not deny it, it becomes a legal marriage. There was a witness in the train that day-the old lady I mentioned, Mr, itchell is Scotch, and was determined to have his rights, “I could not believe aunt was in ear- nest, but it seems she was, and what is wore, they all beset me every hour in the day with speeches to the effect that itisof no use to try and my destiny, Mr. Mitchell has the law on his side, and the sooner, for appearance sake, 1 consent to another marriage ceremony in church the better, * I have asked vou to meet mo here this evening, Mr, Stanlev, to tell me truly if there is any ground for their saying I am Mr, Mitchell's wife.” “ii is the most preposterous, coward. ly lie I ever heard of,” exclaimed Owen, quite boiling over with indigua-~ tion, ‘In some parts of Scotland, long ago, some such rubbish as they tell you might be true; but we are not in Scot- land. To have this man’s mwoney In the family your reprobate of an uncle is trying to play upon your innocent ignorance, knowing or believing you had no one to enlighten you, He ought to be exposed and prosecuted for Tis villainy.” “Oh, I'm so glad and thankful you assured me that this dreadful man no power over me,’’ said Louise, with a profound sigh of relief, “You poor little friendless thing!” As if of its own accord Owen's arm encircled the girl's waist, and he ten derif and sevently kissed her unresist- ing lips, “And now I must back to the house, Dear me, the half-hour is long punt,” persuade you to commit any rash folly, Trust in me,” sald Owen, Arriving at his lodgings he found two letters awalting isn; one from Travers, a special chum in the cold lux. urious days, and the other—he could hardly believe his eyes—from Unele Raymond, He dashed into a perusal of this last at once, aud discovered that, after a year and a month, his #ormer friend and benefastor, his father’s only broth- er, was on the track of the fellow who had committed a certsdn forgery-—a crime of which Morris Raymond, in hot, sudden anger, ad accused his nephew, Strong chrumstantial evi. dence against Owen was not wanting, and thus, suffering for the misdeed of another, he was thrust out for a rough strugele with the world, Now, through the merest chance, the real culprit had been discovered, und the letter in bis uncle's trembling hand contained ample apology for past injustice and earnestly expressed desire that the old relations be renewed, **As you are reinstated with the old —**1 suppose we shall soon have you among us again, I hope it will not break your heart lo hear that Nelly Welland has given you the slip. When ghe heard of your misfortune she trans ferred her affections Wo Mortdmer,"’ “I think 1 have found some one who will console me for the fickle Nelly,” said Owen to himself, “Did ever a stroke of fortune come at moment?” postbox on several occasions after this: there were other tele-a-tetes upon the with tender, sweet delight, Uncle Raymond’s letter emboldened Owen to prompt measuzes in depriving Mr, Cruncher of bisnlece, of iogiatitude, a battle sm ———— A SGnake-Charmer’'s Martyrdom. Muloojee, who fell a martyr to his belief in his own powers, ree, was bitten by a cobra a Bombay, and as usual, a snake-charm- er inquired where the cobra had taken refuge, and, on a weedpile ed out, he removed the snake, at the dead x id v i the snake t Mazagon, endeavored ti vy, declaring to make it bite that if it did so the « i % ii 4% US vould at once be restored to life. Fo hours he persevered, but refused to strike the body, and at last, irritated beyond endurance terned and bit Koy. dajee in the hand. The snake-charmer calmly placed the snake in a copper ves. sel and then sat down, sent for and the man placed inside, bu ER WO deed. The story testifies strongly to snakes and to the existence of a siperstition life that the first hastaken away. The fact that the snakecharmer effort whatever to used no against its ill effects was not stated in the evidence given at that inquest held that be had no belief in any antidote or modéof treatment. It or charms he had previously used to protect him, for Us evidence of the snake in the woodpile he had seized it without the slightest Lesitation. It is tomed to handle sngkes should death, A —- A Kind Heart in ola Clothes, reporier mentions an incident which he saw in Beaver street, near the Cotton of refuse wood. them as securely as his tiny hands would permit he manfully undertook find that the law of gravity and his feeble muscles prevented success, He was looking at his fallen bundle in de- spair, though without a tear, when a coal cartman stoppel his horse and asked: “Where do you want to take that?” “Over in Washington street, near de Battery,” replied the boy. “Well,” said the driver, ‘‘you sit down by the wood a few minutes until I unload and 11 carry it for you,” The boy obeyed and munched some peaches which a looker-on handed to him, and the reporter fancied he had often seen a less kindly face than the begrimed one in the ¢oal cart in a more ostentatious vehicle, ~The gray wolf » still a very live issue In Butte county, Dakota, where he occasionally plays sad havoe among borses and other farm stock. ~{(3eorge B. Leavitt has sold the bay gelding De Bary (2.194) to Maine par- ties, a~Any on wanting a horse should attend W, T. Woodward's sale in Ken- tucky. ~The Lexington (Ky.) entry list Is the largest in the history of the organ. ization. ~The classes filled well for the Albany and Poughkeepme October mestings, «Tailor made bodices, English red. ingotes, much cut away at the hips, over Louls X1V waistcoats, elegantly draped, and French polonaises, artisti- cally draped and adjusted, divide favor almost evenly this season. ~Syrian velvet in two like shot silk, :s made up with faille Fran. caise and Vietoria «The prevailing in passemen- ph THE POOR OF LONDON, The Kindness Shown to One Another in Misfortune. ————— SN It is not only in thelr perhaps thrift- less almsgiving that the poor show thelr sympathy with their own order, They show it in thelr practical help in times of sickness and bereavement; they show it in their readiness to share their scan- ty food and sheer with the hungry and the homeless; they show 1t In tho way in which they take other people's troubles upon their already overburden- ed backs; and in the way they frequent. ly sacridice their time and their money nm endeavoring to put their poor broth- ers and sisters who have been pushed down in the battle of life once more upon their legs. The poor live so closely together that they know a good deal of each other's are the first to find out each other's business, So it comes that the poor woman Uving with her husband and family in one room knows that the peo- ple in the next room are without food, She and her husband go short and send in half their loaf tw their starving neighbors, and she sends in the teapot with the leaves Jeft in jt, and she fills it up with hot water. This, at least, gives the recipient a warm drink, what- ever the particular flavor of it may be, One remarkable way in which the poor show their kindpess of heart 1s In adopting children. fe twtquently hap- | pens in neighborhoods where the labor- mg and criminal chsses herd together | that a family of children may be sud- | deniy left without father or mother, Father gets “put away’’ and mother, in | her grief and despair, goes to drown { her sorrow at the public house, and | sometimes ends by falling herself into | the clutehes of the law, Such cases as i theis occur over and over again, and in the children are taken care of, washed and dressed and fed Ly some poor mother living in the who herself has a lage family, All this is done ungrudgingly jand as a ‘-duty.”” If you ask such a woman what prompted her to burden herself with the maintenance of another | woman's family she will tell you there was nothing wonderful in theact, *'She supposes as some neighbor "ud same by her young "uns if ever she in trouble.” A poor, tenement house when others of her un- ell seriousisy UL | five cases out of ten | same house, do her seat Lo the wo girls said. **No, not If they w it.” These poor creatures pawn- ed all the clothes they order to pay for a clever doctor—{or her case was a complicated one They relieved and took it her day and night, { and they made ber stop at home when he was better for over six weeks, as the doctor said there risk in her going | which time they paid ber rent and every expense incurred by her iliness, though to do it they had to deny themselves | not only any comfort but almost any necessary of lite, Drave and good girls, How different would their lives have been, perbaps, bad they known in their homes such love and devotion as they showered upon their sisters in misfortune, The poor man who loses his wife finds plenty of sympathy and practical help {| among his poor neighbors, soul comes in at once amd sees doctors ordered her. each other at the sick bed in turns to narse old enough to look after the others, mother to take it { even the man’s comfort { looked, Mrs, Jones will run in half an hour while he is away at work, and tidy up his place for him; and Mrs, Brown will pop "across the road and get Lis tea ready for him against he comes home, There are some | charming little idylls of the courts and alleys which are waiting to be tld | tender prose poems, fragrant with the ! self sacrifice and the Leroisms of the | poor and the lowly: but they must be told from the beginning to the end. To cut them down into a bald narra- tive of incidents would be to rob them of all their grace and charm, The sympathy of the poor shows itself sometimes in a tender regard for something which has been the pet of a dead comrade or neighbor, Some little time back, a hawker in the East End lay dying. He was a widower and childless, but he had one companion--a faithful, loving little dog, who had lived with him for many years, As the poor fellow lay on his death bed, the little dog stretched itself out beside him, and every now and then licked the weak, thin hand that rested loving- ly upon its little head. The old haw- ker's mind was tortured as to what would be his faithful sompanion’s fate after be had gone to his grave; #0 one day he sent for a mate, and he said to him: *Jim, when 1'm gone, take my little Fan, and let her have a home with you till she dies, will ycu, mate? I shall die happy if I know as she'll have a friend to take care of her after I'm dead.” Jim, a street hawker of dolls, gripped his friend’s hand and said: **Yes, mate; 1’ take her, and promise you as she shall be as comfort- able as I can make her.” The kindness to animals is by no means a rare trait among the poor. I have seen a lean and hungry lad many a time sharing his scanty meal of bread and butter with a stray cur in the slums and I know one common lodging house cat, who died In the kitchen amid the tears and sobs of the rough men and women, who clustered around to see their pet breathe its last, ‘Hard on Groeley. Horace Greeley told thisstory of him- gelf. Soon after he went to learn the printing business he went to seo a preacher's daughter. The next time he attended meeting he was considerably astonished at hearing the minister an- pounce as his text: “My daughter is belag grievously tormented with a devil,” «The bat mare Directress, by Dic. roan ha Eireator, ATT FASHION NOTES, — Ladies who have a fitted garment for street wear will be glad to know that the Newmarket or redingote, braided or plain, will be a favorite gar- ment through the sutumn and winter. ~The new hussar Zoal Is very styl- ish, with its black silk passemenieries flecked with gold on the jackey fabric of deep blue or Russian green cloth, Sometimes they are decorated with alguillettes or tags, with gold or silver points, The pecubar style of these of the shoulders the majority of them being slightly wadded, ~Short visiting wraps and small visites, with cape sleeves that reach to the elbow only, are made of black Lyons velvet, rich colored velvets, and aiso magnificert Oriental broche ma- terials with gold threads interwoven. These are decorated with Persian lambskins, and also, for later wear, with many kinds of fur, with muff and French toque to match, lady 1s of plain Henrietta cloth, The skirt has a wide band made of very narrow tucks around the bottom, and is lald in medium width side plaits, Very long, looped-under apron and side draperies; very full back drapery drawn up at the side and in the mid- dle of the back; plain postilion body, with long point in front; collar and cuffs of moire, -A handsome reception costume is of faille Francaise and moire, body, sleeves, train and :pinkec-sut flounces are made of tho faille. A very full apron drapery, shoulder puffs, cuffs, pointed V shaped front and back, and the collar is of moire, | the apron joins the back drapery and finished with passementene, | cashmere, The front of the skirt is in | drapery. | extend from the waistline to the bot- | tom of the skirt on one side. Plain t body with wide turnedback collars and revers over a full vest of silk with a narrow standing collar. Plain sleeves and plain cuffs. -Many of the little capotes, cloth | bonnets, felt turbans and English walk- ing hats from abroad have a simple yet artistic trimming, formed entirely of Madras silk bandkerchiefs twisted {and arranged around the crowns and in front with the unmistakable French | charm. Many of these pretty head cov- kerchiefs in brilliant colorings, {| “bandana bonnet” is in immense de- | mand Ly enthusiastic young ladies who | are interested in politics. They ime i the tailor costumes of dark rich toned i cloth so universally admired. ~A very elegant costume is of faille Francaise and moire, Plain skirt with draped apron in deep folds: long mde sections of the faille wide | pieces are draped high about three- toward the back, i skirt is plain and straight, and has a | the belt in one very wide double box- basque skirt and postilion., The side of the shoulders, the plaits extend- ing to the elbows, where they end in a bow to the wrist, | are of the moire, —A beautiful plum colored India {a plain velvet underskirt in this rich {shows an undervest of plum colsred | that is a mass of gold embroidery done {in Cairo by a certain crippled work. | man, who sits all day in his balcony mentation for dresses, The cuffs of the silk bishop sleeves, which Issue from the open velvet ones, are embroidered in the same manner, and the jacket has tiny velvet buttons worked in stars in fine gold beads. There is an odd little collar which is new. It turns down only at the back over the plain, straight, upright collar, and fastens at the sides with three gold wrought but- tons, — A very stylish dress for a young lady is of plain and fancy silk. The skirt 1s of the plain silk; the front of the fancy goods, in very elaborately draped folds, The sides are plain from the edge of the besque to the bottom of the skirt; the back ls in very full box plaits, slightly draped. The body is plain, with vest and wide revers of the fancy material, Ilke the apron front; the collar is plain. The sleeves are full from shoulder to elbow, and plain from the elbow to the wrist. Bands of handsome trimming are sel cloth; plain skirt; very elaborate drap- ery in semicircular folds: plain body, with bodice point and postilion back; the front of the basque bas bands of shoulder seams ~A fuil brother to Belle Hamlin, 2.18%, was foaled at the Village Farm on September 21. ~Brown Hal failed to beat 2.13 at the recent Nashville meeting, doing his best mile 10.15, —Mr. Withers’ fine filly Auricoma is not likely to race again this season, as she is slightly lame, ~ Kingston has broken down and been turned out, Te is well bred and will be valuable as a stallion. — Arrow, 2.134, has arrived at Park- ville Farm, and Mr, Shuits will drive him on the road this winter. —Prince Royal added $3070 to his winnings at Jerome Park, bringing his tatal gross earnings up ' 531.650. ~{(ieorge Barbee has nad an offer from W. L. Beott’s manager to ride for the Algeria stables next season, | ~Itis settled that thers will be no | more steeplechases or hurdie races on | the prograrames at Monmouth Park. ~Superior 2.20}, L. C. lee, 2.15, | and Annie Carcy, 2.304, J. Page’s hor- ses, have been very unfortunate this BEABON. —Pancoast is Improving. He jogs | to the halter without any trouble, and | begins to show his old time vim and | resolution. | —JLot Blocum, by Electioneer, re- | duced his record to 2.17} in a trial | against time at the Spokane Falls (W. TA meeting. | —D, De Noyelles has shipped the 3 {year old filly Nipa DD. , by Nutwood, | 2 187, out of Adelaide, 2.19§, to Cal- ifornia to be bred to Sable Wilkes, 2.18, —The Czar, 2 year old full brother to Emperor of Norfolk, won at a mile in ! 144, at California recently, beating | Wild Oats, Shannon Rose and four | others, Oliver K., 2.16}, isnow in J. B, Shockeney's stable at Louisville, Ky., {and was fortunately out of his stall when tte stable was burned on Monday | Sept., 24th. ~The ch, g. Ilunter, owned by W. H. Grant, ran away at the Trenton | races the first week in October, came | in contact with a projecting rail, im- paled and killed himsell, —W. H. Fieming, Fort Wayne, Ind., has sold to Mr. Hopper, of Phil- adelpbia, the black filly Emma H., { foaled 1887, by Nutwood, dam Zither, by Woodford Mambrino, —Enile and Peg Wollinglon have been turned out for the season. It has been a matter of great surpiise to horsemen how Lakeland has managed to keep Exile on his legs so long. — Dwyer brothers’ yearlings, thirty- | seven in all, have now got back to the Brooklyn track from Monmouth Park, where they have speat the last few weeks, They will be tried soon. -C, W. Aby, agent for Frederick Gebhard, bas purchased of RR. W, Thomas’ acting for E. J. Baldwin, the | chestnut filly Glen Queen. 3 years, by King Ban—Gleniva, by Glencoe, Jr. —Madam Marantette has purchased four gray pacers, all of which have rec- | ords of 2.20 or better, They are Silver Thread, 2.154: Bennie, 2.18}, Gray Harry, 2,19}; and Patsy Clinker, —On the closing day of the Brooklyn | meeting A. J. Cassait purchased of Richard Pryor the brown colt Mad- | stone, 2 years, by Vanderbilt, dam Nina Turner, for $6000, and be ran for the Holly stakes that day in Mr. Cas- | satl’s colors, ~The relations between Sam Dryant and bis partner, Scroggins, are a trifle | strained; they are not now jointly in- {terested in anything but Proctor Knott, and report has it that the colt | will belong to one or the other before very long. —J, C. Sibley, proprietor of the Prospect Hill Farm, at Franklin, Pa., | has disposed of a half interest in all hus horse business to Charles Miller, with whom he has been associated as part. ner for twenty-two years in many other { 'nes of business, —Fred Folger, 2.20}, will be driven on the road this winter and carefully prepared for the Grand Circuit next year. He will be one of the starters in the next Charter Oak stake if he Las as moch speed in 1880 as he had at Poughkeepsie last June. —It 18 reported that the b. m. Dolly Fuller, by Niagara Chief, died re- cently in Kentucky. She is the dam of Fuller, 2.13%, and had a foal this season by Kestucky Prince. Dolly Fuller was owned by Dr. McCully, of Toronto, Can., and was sent to Kentucky to be bred to Belmont after pancoast was in~ jured. ~The chestnut colt Trade Mark, foaled 1886, by imp. Kyrie Daly, dam Trade Dollar, by Norfolk; threw his exercise lad while being worked on the Coney Island Boulevard on October 3d, ran away and collided with a tree, killing himself almost instantly. He was the property of Walter Olney, who purchased him at the recent Haggin sale for $1875. per, Jr., aged, won in 1.00§, thus beating J wick’s record of 1.004, Francisco in 1883 with 115 pounds, In November, 1887, Kitty Pease, it is claimed, ran the distance in 1.00, Sam Harper's performance Was on a straightaway track. ~The Mimi filly, Mr. Wither's lat- est sensational 2 old, is a brown jeft hind EET BESriogiias i : : i i i r g Fi £
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers