— ye TWO SONGS. A § ®o sweet, so sweet, she sang, is love, Lifting the cup to lips that laughed, Drinking the deep enchantment off, Fire, spice, and honey in the draught, - IL i Bo sad, so sad, she sighed, is love, H Bitter the lees, and black the art That from the deep enchantment wrings A spell to break a woman's heart! — Harriet P. Spoffovd, in Harper, FOUND AT DRURY'S BLUFF. BY PHILIP JARVIS. “Phil, my boy, wish me good luck! Tm going to ask Mildred Grayes to marry me before I go.” My God! I wish him luck in winning she woman who was all the world to me! "The one woman whom I had loved from | may boyhood’s days! All the savage in | my nature was aroused into fury at the | ‘thought that he dared to aspire to what | was mine, by the right of long years de- wvotion. I could have throttled him as he | stood there-—so handsome and debonair | ~—80 self-reliant and confident of success. | Yet what claims had I upon her affec- | tions! The hot blood grew cold; my | Mlerce wrath died out. How could I be | ure she might not love him best? Was | ‘he not finer-looking, more agreeable than J, a man in every respect better calculated | %o win a girl's fancy! i Mildred and I had been friends from | our school days, the most intimate friends; | and on my part that friendship had grown into a part of life itself. I had no hopes, | no ambitions, which had not her happi- | mess for their object. Yet no word or | token of love had passed between us. I was shy and reticent on this one subject that lay so near my heart. I shrank from | declaring myself her lover, doubtless feel- | ing that if she could not return my love, | I should destroy forever our friendly re- | lations. i So matters stood between us, when she | was twenty, and I twenty-one, in the fall of '60 when Carl Maxam came to our willage. He and I were associated in business and soon became friends, as | friendly intimacy goes between men. He | was five years my senior, and had read | and traveled much, and had sequired the | ease and polish of a man of the world, while I was shy and reticent in society. | 1 felt he had every advantage in his favor, in his intercourse with Mildred, but until to-day I had never had a jealous feeling. | In the spring of '61, came the fall of | “Bumter, and the declaration of war. We both enlisted, though in different regiments, and were ready to leave for Washington. We had returned to our homes for the final leave takings with friends, I in my plain suit with only a! Sergeant's chevrons on my sleeve, he in she gilt and epaulettes of a Licutenant, looking handsomer than ever in his fine «aniform, On the morrow we were to rejoin our regiments, and on this last afternoon had met for a final friendly chat. We had #alked on other matters of mutual interest and at the last moment, as we stood at the gate, he had said: “*And now comes the toughest part of it. I'm going to ask Mildred Graves to marry me before I go. Phil, my boy, wish me good luck, can’t youl” Filled with surprise and anger I could make no reply; but it passed unnoticed as he went on without looking at me. “I have been half in love with her ever | wince I first met her, and long ago de- | cided she should be my wife if I ever got | ready to marry, that is, of course,” with a nervous laugh, ‘‘if she'd have me. Il 4 | itself to lose her. | married. All the love I could never speak, found expression now. “Can you not, dearest Millie,” I con- cluded, *“find down deep in your heart, underneath all this sisterly regard you have given me, one spark of something dearer, sweoter than a sister's love? Will you not give me just one word of hope that, in time, you may learn to love me better than a brother or friend?" I sent the letter by a sure messenger, and waited impatiently for a reply. Now it was done, and I had risked ali on one throw of the dice, I felt all the gambler's unrest. My blood was alternately at fever heat or ice cold. The moments seemed hours. Hopes and fears alternately held sway, until I could scarcely endure the suspense. At last the answer came. Hur- rying to my room, I tore open the enve- | lope. There in Millie's handwriting, I| had learned to love so well, were the | words: ‘“‘Dear Friend;” a cold hand fering, with one leg gone, I was scarcely more than the wreck of my former self. She had changed almost as much as I all the girlish freshness and bloom had faded, and the grave, quiet manner seemed more befitting a woman of fifty than a girl of twenty-three; yet to me she seemed dearer and sweeter than ever, “I am so glad to see you home once more!” ghe said, as she grasped my out- stretched hand, There were tears in her eyes, and her voice trembled, How good it seemed to look into her face to hear the sound of her voice, and feel the pressure of her hand once more! » Could she-—could she care for me, now Carl was dead! 1 found myself so eager, even now, for her love, that I would be | only too thankful for even a small part she | | 0, weary, dreadful picnic night! But Carl's letter must be delivered first, | thought it might be the means of separat. | had given him. seemed to clutch my heart as I read: | ing us still more widely. “Your letter was a great surprise to me. I have always regarded you as a friend, | and as such, you will ever have my high- | est esteem, but my love has long been | given to another. Forgive me if I give | you pain by this avowal, and I pray God may bless and keep you, in the danger into which you are going. Sincerely your friend, Mildred Graves,” The letter fell from my hands, my head | dropped upon the table beside me. The worst had come! All the hopes and fears, the sweet dreams of a lifetime were over. Carl had won her, and I had lost all that | made life endurable. The memory of every hour of sweet | i companionship—every gracious smile she had ever given me—cvery kindly word, came back with redoubled sweetness, now that she was lost to me forever. Through | all the years of youth and manhood, she had been interwoven with every hope and plan; it seemed like giving up life Jut it was over now, over forever! If I met her again it must | be as the betrothed, or the wife of au- | other. Could I live God, and perhaps death on the would end all this dreary liness, and bear that! Thank I could go away in a few hours, battlefield heartlone- | On the morrow I rejoined my regiment, and within twenty-four hours we were marched to the front. In the change from home to the stir- | i » + « | ring scenes of army life I tried to forget; but by the camp-fire, on lonely picket duty, or in the rush and roar of battle, thoughts of Mildred would intrude. I shrank from no exposure, feared no danger. Men called me brave; I was simply reckless. had nodread of death; | why should I have! Life had lost all charm for me. Months rolled away, one, two, nearly | three years passed. I never heard from | Mildred, except an occasional word in my letters, She still un- I did not wonder at this for | knew Carl was in the army, and fre- quently near me. But I never sought him, even when our regiments were side by side. 1 no longer felt hatred toward him—I could not do that, if Mildred loved him; but I had not reached as point where 1 could meet him calmly, aod 1 preferred not to see him at all; and, strange as it seemed to me at times, he never sought me. Step by step I advanced in rank, until, when the battle of Drury’s Bluff was fought, I held a Captain's commission. All night we had lain on our arms,and with the first gray dawn the enemy were upon us. Our regiment was in the thick mother’s was | eat of the fight. Again and again the Confederates don't know, she always seemed to like ‘hurled their forces against us and were me, and I fancy I've the inside track | there; at all events I'm going to make sure ; I'm not going off for a year or two and leave her for some other fellow to win. | If she'll promise to marry me, I can trust her to wait my return, if it were ever so | long." | At that moment, to my great relief the Captain of his company drove by and | shopped to take Carl in. “Well, good-by, old fellow, hope to | see you later,” and with a wave of his | band he was gone. ¢‘He shall never have her,” I said savagely to myself, as he was driving | away; ‘‘at least, [ will know first if there | fs any chance for me,” and I hurried off | to Mildzed’s home, But when bace in her presence—fool | that I was—I talked of everything else, | past, present and future, di! save the one subject that lay nearest my heart; my | tongue seemed tied whenever I ap- | proached that, A half-hour passed, other visitors | came and I rose to leave. Mildred fol- | lowed me to the gate. i “I shall miss you so much,” she said, | as she held out her hand at parting. | There were tears in her eyed, and a tremor | in ber voice. My heart leaped; surely | she must love me a little, and the words | X had tried so hard to utter came to my | dips; but she added: “you have always | been a brother to me,” and I felt an if a eup of cold water had been dashed in my face. Ah! yes, a brother! she had never | ht of me as a lover; could I declare f one and lose all this friendly re- gard! 1 hesitated—others joined us, speak was lost thought at last; ‘‘she would remember me a8 a friend, love me as such, which met by the fiercest resistance of our men. Charge succeeded charge, volley returned | volley, repulse followed repulse; back- ward and forward surged the huge col umns of men; broken, rallying, retreat- | ing, advancing, cheering for victory one moment, and beaten back by the foe the | next. The dead, the wounded, the dying lay in heaps. The wheels of the guns could not be moved until the windrows of dead were reshoved. There were few wounded, | nearly all were killed outright. Carefully we removed those few and bore them to the hospital tent in the rear. I was di- recting my men in the work, when sud- | denly from among the piles of dead, a face was upturned, a face I knew only too well. Carl Maxam and I had met at last. He was horribly mangled, and I saw could only live a few moments unless the flow of blood was checked. For an in- stant the thought flashed across my brain, “If he died Millie would be free!” But | I erushed back the traitorous thought, | and hastily improvising torniquets 1] stopped the bleeding arteries as best 1 could, and, with the help of one of my men, bore him to the hospital tent. He opened his eyes as we laid Ifim | down. One glance and I knew 1 was recognized. He mised his hand feebly, md tried to reach his bresst pocket. i “A package—my pocket!” he gasped. | I slipped my hand into an inside breast pocket and drew forth a small | package, carefully enclosed. Mildred,” he said, with great effort, looking at me wistfully, and vainly try- ing to say more, His lips moved for a moment but nosound came from them; then the jaws relaxed, an ashen pallor spread over his face, and with a few short gaps he was dead. laced the ok n my breast po and just raw the eall sounded to re-form in line of battle, and we were hurried away to another part of the field. In half an hour we were again in the thickest of the fight. a ball : | thought of ! you i wed another.” | you'll be just the same to me. | an explanation. After a few mutual inquiries and re | plies, I drew the package from my pocket. | “1 found Carl on the battle field of Drury's Bluff, and he gave me this for | I said, holding it | you as he was dying,” out to her, and immediately turning away my head that I might not see her emotion. “For mel” she said prise. in tones “1 don't understand.” “It probably explains itself,” I said, | wondering why she should think it strange | that Carl should send a dying message to her. I heard the rustle of paper as she un- did the package, and in another instant, with a strange cry, she dropped on her knees beside the lounge. 40) Philip, Philip! what does it meant” she said, her face white as the letter she held out to me with trembling hands. I took it, and the first line brought me to a sitting position, with an astonish. ment great as her own. I read in her handwriting the words: “Dean Putin: There ix no need that you should teach me to love you. 1 learned that lesson long ago. You have been dearest of all in the world to me since our childhood's days Come to me at eight this evening and you will find, Yourown love, Mix" Faint and giddy with the surging tide of emotions that swept over me, I caught both her hands in mine “You wrote that, Millie, it to me?” I said, scarcely believing such good news true, “1 wrote it in answer to your letter the day you went away; and you never came we] heard nothing from you until I knew you were gone next day. I could not understand it.” “But I received an answer,” bewilderment; wrote I said in ‘you wrote you had never me except as a friend-—that in al- And “Oh, no, no! I wrote that to Carl answer to one [| received from him at most the same time a8 yours. i 1 must have enclosed them in the wrong of all for such How can you ever for- envelopes. O Philip, to think these years of sorrow to us both, a stupid mistake! give med ““There is nothing to forgive, if you only love me now,” I said eagerly. “1 never loved any one else, I never could; you seemed a part of my life, and I've been 80 wretched, so very wretched! It's like heaven itself to have you back more “Oh, thank once God! thank God!” was i all 1 could say as I caught her in my arms. Oh, the delirious joy of the moment, af- ter all those years of sorrow, to know she loved me, had always loved me; could heaven hold any rapture to equal this? All the wretchedness of the past seemed to vanish as a dream, in the glad joy of the present. Then, suddenly there came a reaction of feeling. What was | now! Broken in health, crippled, helpless! | What woman would take such a wreck of | manhood as I 0 Millie, darling!” ingly, * I've loved you, God only knows how well, but, I'm only a wreck at beat; I cannot ask you to marry me now." “‘You necd not ask me at all,” she said archly, between smiles and tears. “I shall take you anyway. © Phil, you can- not think I love you less for this? So long as there is enough of the body left to hold the heart of my dear old Philip No, not the same, but-a hundred fold dearer for all you have suffered. You will be strong and well soon, dear, and your lost let is | an honor, not a blemish.” Was not this the acme of all earthly joy! Shall I shame my manhood when I say the tears were running down my face, | as I caught the dear girl to my heart, and thanked God for such a treasure. After our emotions had calmed down | somewhat, we examined the package more closely, and found a letter from Carl tell ing how he had received the note in an- swer to his letter, that he had rightly con- jectured that in her agitation, Millie had misdirected the envelopes, that hisamust have been a rejection and had been sent | In his chagrin and disappointment | me. that I had been preferred to him, he had kept the note, hoping that the one sent | me might have no name in it, and thinking | I had been rejected I would leave without the strivings of his better nature, until me, in case of our meeting or of his desth, “1 have been a coward and a villain,” he wrote in conclusion, ‘not to have re. turned the note long ago, I cannot hope for your forgiveness.” But in the supreme happiness of our re. union we could find no room in our hearts ow ha maonged us 20 trig. he us #0 he Blade, { 0, joyous, of sur. | 1 said, despair. | | get that stunning collar you're wenting' 1 i Then followed an ae. | | count of the upbraidings of conscience, | he had written this explanation to give | growing yet, and am afraid by the time THE MERRY SIDE OF LIFE. STORIES THAT ARE TOLD BY THE FUNNY MEN OF THE PRESS, The Summer Plenle, Before and After —~Most Likely —On a Perfect Equality—Hospitable—Ete., Ete. ladsome pienie morn! How eool the air, the scies how bright, A thousand mental joys are born To fill the heart with wild delight. The incense from the treecrowned hills, The babble of the woodland ril The wild bird's song which And ll the forest arches Bis; oe mystic whisper of the trees, The rr hum of honey bees; A scene designed the gods to please, A dream of happiness and ease, That all our being thrills, y trills I almost wish that 1 were dead, I'm looking like a perfect fright, And filled with aches from feet to It's rained incessantly since morn, My clothes are wet and stained and torn, I'm feeling miserably forlorn, 1 can’t now think why 1 was born, The woods were full of beggar's lcs, We drank rain water without ice; And dinners full of ants aren't nice; Hereafter a picnic device Will eatch mein a horn. Omaha World. head. MOST LIKELY. Teacher (trying to illustrate the differ- ence between the words ride and drive) — Now, if your little sister got on a horse, what would she do?” Little Johnnie—**Fall off.” OX A PERFECT EQUALITY. Fond Father—*‘You want my daugh- ter, eh? Have you any prospects?” Suitor—*‘No, sir.” Fond Father—**Nor has her, and be happy.” — Bazar, — ! HOSPITARLE, i Doctor, how did you enjoy | How did you Take she. “Well, your African journey! like the “Oh, they are very kind hearted peo ple; they wanted to kecp me there for | dinner.” —Fliegende Blaetler, savages!” YOR A CHANGE. Mrs. Lawler—*‘Does your husband ever condescend to hold the baby?” Mrs. Every Wednesday and Saturday evening, while I run the lawn mower.” — Lawrence American. } Stavathome Oh, ves! WISE IN HIS CONCEIT. Girl (gushingly)—*'Oh, Mr. Wiseacre, you must know everything!” Wiseacre (blushingly)—*‘‘My dear young lady, I only know enough to know how ignorant I am.” 8. G. (crushingly)—*"That's just what I told my brother!” Society New York Journal. | A TRICK OF HIS TRADE. It's strange.” remarked Cora, ‘‘that | the Baron De Fake never fell in love with any of the girls he used to call on. But still, it was my opinion that he always | tried to conceal his feelings.” | “1 should say he did,” replied Miss Snyder, *‘for he turns out to be a Lon don pickpocket,” — Epoch. - | A LITERAL INTERPRETATION, | Miss (just returned from Western tour)— Oh, Mr. Noddy, we had a most delightful trip! The Yellow- stone Park was beautifal, and the sunrise | which I saw there was simply grand !™ | Mr. Noddy—*‘Yass! But—aw-—ex- cuse moe-—but I wasm't aware that the : Green sun ever rose in the West." Basar, \ AX URGENT CALL. i Valet (ringing up the doctor at 11:30 P. M.)—**Councilor Mw sends his com- | pliments and desires you to come to him | at once," Doctor (en dishabille)—* ‘Good gracious! | What is the matter with him?” Valet “He wants a fourth hand for a rubber of whist." — Humoristiche Blactier. | N18 XECK IN THE YOKE. Grafton-“Aw, Algy, where did you ‘Alf the fellows "ave spoken to me about it to-day, and I'll bet it'll be all the wage." Baboony (whispering)—*' "Sh, Chodly! | 1 wun short o' eollahs this mawning, and | baw Jove, to tell the truth, this is one o' my cuffs I've put on." Judge. ROT A PHYSIOGNOMIST. Barber— ‘Wish any oil on your hair, sirt” Customer (explosively)! ‘Nobody that has any sense uses hair oil nowadays. Do 1 look like a howling idiot!” Barber (deferentially)-—‘‘No, sir; but I'm not a good judge of faces. I always ask the question sayhow." Chicago Tribune. WOULD OUTGROW TIOEM, Customer‘ ‘Say, sre those trousers I ordered ready yet?” Tailor ‘No, sir, but soon will be.” Customer—**Well, I shall not take them at all now.” Tailor''For what reasont” Customer--*‘Because, I have not done you have them finished they will be too short." «Drake's Magazine. FOR THE PUBLIC WEAL. “If you wish to live to any ageat all,” said the doctor, ‘you must give up those | those words of | fully changed all the colors of my life.’ | came up from below, pale with fear, | vessel the private basiage © | actress and three fas) | longing to a London dude, and the gal- “A sister, George! Yes, George, with all my heart.” “That isn’t exactly what I mean, Ethel,” he continued, ‘you were too hasty. I was about to ask you to be a mother to me.” THE BEGIXNING OF THE TROUBLE. “Did you see the beginning of this trouble?” asked the police judge of a wit- | ness against a man who had struck his wife. “Yes, sir; I saw the very commence- ment of the difficulty. It was sbouttwo years ago.” “Two years ago?” “Yes, sir. Traveler. MATTERS OF IMPORTANCE. They were in the conservatory at an evening party, and there, amid the per- fume of the roses and posies, he had fer- vently declared his passion, “Mr. Sampson, George,” she re. sponded, with worszziz tenderness, ‘my heart has been wholly yours for months, | and now,” she went ou, shyly taking his | arm, ‘‘you may take me in to supper; | heard it announced when you first began love which have so bliss- ) we tar, CONCEIT ALL GONE. Old Gentleman ‘Let me I met your nephew five years ago, and if you must know the truth, I was disgusted with him-—such a vain, conceited, insuf- ferable puppy 1 never saw in my life.’ Old Neighbor—Oh, changed complete! modest Boe, he's y now, He's the most | man you could find in a day's journey he doesn’t believe he knows anything.” “You don’t Bay so! Well, now think of it, when I met him he was a college | sophomore,” “Yes, and now he's a grad ate andtry -New York rn his o ing in ing to ¢ Weekly. THE snp HOaptain,” reported the officer, WAS SAVED ‘the water is lighten the ship!” With the tinguishes the true hero from the craven gaining on us, We must presence ind that dis- | in the hour of peril the Caplan instantly | called all hands on deck “Men,” he said, and his deep voi rang out, clear and stzong, waste of waters that threatened to ngulf vithrow over the wild the stately vessel, s things overboard I” The sailors went to wo ergy of despair. In | they had thrown over a traveling canes, be- lant ship, with her leak now high above water, bounded on her course like a thing of life. Her commander bad saved her. we Chicago Tribune, EROKR THE SEANCE. Three vears ago Mind Reader J. Ran. dail Brown, who was a witness in the late or Bishop case, was giving a series of enter tainments at the Grand Opera House in San Francisco. On one occasion he gave a seance, and announced that he would produce the spirit of any person called for “Diogenes,” shouted as man from the back of the house. A few moments later raps were heard, and Professor Brown announced that the philosopher's spirit was rapping, and would answer any ques- tions asked. Aa old gentleman in the front row rose verysiowly and said: “You say you have the spirit of Dio- | genes therel” “Yes sir, any questions, sir!” replied Mr. Brown. “Only one. Ask him if he has found that honest man yet.” The laughter which greeted the ques- | tion broke up the seance for that night. | wasNew York Sun. HE KNEW THE SIGNR. When Mr. Spooner went home, the | other evening, the door unexpectedly flew open while he was fumbling in his pocket for his latch key, then she said chaerily “Let me help you off with your over. | There, I'll hang it up, dear, | You'll find your slippers by your chair | Did you | coat, dear, and I'll put your shoes away. have a good day down town, dear?! You iook tired. Poor, deat, old boy! There never was a woman who had a dearer | husband than my dear, old George, any- There, | how! Sit right down, dear. there, darling; I'll get the evening paper for you. You just sit still and rest while I tell you about what a naughty little wife I've been to-day, for, oh, George, 1 got me the loveliest bonnet for only nineteen dollars and--and-—you won't mind, wiil you, dear? I know won't. That's a darling! It's so lovely! I'll run right up and get it, and show it to you before teal” “Humph!” growled George, like the wretch he was, ‘I knew there was some- thing of that sort coming. I know the signs 1" Time, vou an— The minister said: ‘Will | you take this man to be your lawful hus- | band,’ and she said: ‘I will.’ "—Merchan! | gony THROAT, BRONCHITIS, COLD Lim the CHEST. HHEUMATISENM, NEU. | MALGIA, LUMBAGO, SCIATICA, PAINS Yes, | Do you wish to ask him | The most cere tain and safe Palin REMEDY in the worid that instantly stops the most exermelianting pains. It is truly the great CONQUEROR OF PAIN, and has done mors good than any Known remedy, For SPRAINS BRUISES, BACKACHE, RADWAY'S READY RELIEF | PAIN in the CHEST or SIDES, HEAD- ACHE, TOOTHACHE, or any either EX~ TERNAL PAIN, a few applications act Ike pnb g. Sa msing the PAIN to IN BSTANTLY STOP. For CONGESTIONS INFLAMMATIONS, tn the Small of the Back, ote. more ex~ tended, longer continued nnd repented applications are necessary 10 sTect a cure. All INTERNAL PAINS fin the Bowsels er Stomach), CRAMPS, SPASMS, SOUR STOMACH, NAUSEA VOMITING, HEARTBURN, DIARRHEA, COLIC, FLATULESCY, FAINTING SFELLS, are relieved Instantly snd QUICKLY CURED by taking internally ss directs ed. Sold by Druggists. Price, 50c, DADWAY PILLS THE Great Liver & Stomach Remedy For the cure of all disorders of the STOMACH, LIVER, BOWELS, KID KEYS, BLADDER, NERVOUS DISEAS- ES, LOSS of APPETITE, HEADACHE, CONSTIPATION, COSTIVENESS, INDI- GESTION, BILIOUSNESS, FEVER, INFLAMMATION of the BOW ELS FILES and all derangements of the Internal Viscora, Purely Vegetable, containing me mercury, minerals, or DELETER- 10US DRUGS. PERFECT DIGESTION will be ao~ complished by taking RADWAY'S PILLS. By se doing DYSPEPSIA, SICK MEADACHE, FOUL STOMACH, BILIOUSNESS, will bs svoided, and the food that iz eaten comiribute ifs nourishing properties for the support of the natural vraste of the body. SOLD BY ALL DRUGGISTS., Price 25c. por box, or, on receipt of price, will be sent by mail. 5 boxes for One Dollar. REDWAY & CO. 28 Warren St. N.Y, ——— EYXU-23 -— - - ASILY. Best Rein-Holder Dut. Ke Nedips to wl, [BigWages.| . w ARNED. springt, al, New, SAMPLES THE = HANDY" Bridgeport, Cost, HOLDER Cl. I've Cot Ii! ILY -i- ATLAS ENOWN. ONINY 20 OoOBXNTS! 191 Pages, 91 Full-Page Maps. Colored Maps of each State and Territorr in the United Fates. Also Mape of every Country in the World, The letter Jom. gives the sgusre miles each State: time of settlement: populstion citiss | average tempersture. salary of officals She principa’ postmaster in the te; Dumber farms, with (heir productionsand the value thereof different MATlAG and number of employes, etc, sto the wes of each W Oouty for of poverntneny; population ; principal snd (heir money value: amount of wiwe of artay ; miles of ralirosd w ber of cattle, , and formatio Thais to aii fas BOOK PUB. HOUSE. 1M Leon you EH A GO REVOLVER hase one of fhe ose. ted Jr & WESSON arma, finest srnsll arms wear manufactured anf! the rot cholos of ali experts annfactured in calibres 1 wand 6-300, Bin. ie or double action, Safety Hammueriess and Tar moddia Oengtraviat Sntiraly of hes annle It renght + chrefuily inspected for mans! and ok, Lhey are unrivaled for fini TAT pT me woid for articles and and Mrs. | The Spooner had her arms around his neck and | had given him a kiss on either cheek; | drers role with firms name, address a waranteed perfect in very ine not be, but Singers fad x are stamped unos the bap vary detail Ine Dencrpliveontel og wieston. SMITH t- Mention this paper. Springfield, Mass, MAKE CHICKENS a Furpore pd every hing. SUSE: 1 [Va road RATORS eel GN, UR TL Clonr,
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