I Good Ship | Roosevelt. | By RITA KELLEY. T X X T Copyright. 1907, by Homer Spratfue. T "Betsy, let's run out into the Hudson and see Peary's ship!" Betsy Cobb jumped at her brother's words and gazed with sudden intent ness out the window. She had come up to his office for a few moments' chat, and, as she felt the blood pound ing into her cheeks and up to her hair, she wished poignantly that she had stayed away. To the Roosevelt, in deed! "It's too cold," she objected, simulat ing a shiver. "We'll freeze getting out there." "Bosh! Get on your gloves. It isn't every day that one has a chance to climb over a vessel that's been within hailing distance of the north pole. I'll Just cut my appointments. What's the trouble?" She had balked flatly at the gentle urgency of her brother's hand on her arm. "I won't go!" she declared. The doctor laughed good lmmoredly. "What's up? Is some fickle admirer who forgot for the first time to send you a box of candy for your birthday due out there this afternoon? Come on. It isn't every day I can run off, and it's no pleasure togo alone." Betsy's head swam with a perspec tive of a chain of horrors opening up by her acquiescence; but, on the other hand, her brother's curiosity was not to be aroused too much. He had a most uncomfortable habit of going to the bottom of tilings. "Well." she said reluctantly, "I'll go." She laughed a bit hysterically. "But I'd rather be hanged." Her brother remembered with some uneasiness that Betsy had not been herself of late. She was not so gay and fun loving as usual, and he often caught her mooning. That was what she was doing back at the office Just ITOW, and It decided him to run away with her for awhile. "Betsy, don't you feel well?" he asked as they scrambled off a cross town car at the ferry slip. "Botheration, yes! What a silly question!" But, though her words were careless, she avoided his eyes and looked off down the Hudson. "You can't get across this day," she an nounced, with perceptible relief. "The Ice Is all caked tip hero on the New York side, so that a launch couldn't possibly get through." "We'll hire a ferry, then," said her brother cheerfully. One thing was cer tain—the Itoosevelt had something vi tal to do with her state of sulks. Good! He would probe further. "Is there any way of getting out to the Peary ship?" he inquired of a policeman. "Ice is pretty bad. No lioats going out of here, but maybe if you walk up to Forty-fourth street you can get <m a bigger boat. They been out once today. Guess you'd better go across to Jersey, though. No ice over there, and you can hire some one to take yon out to midstream. The Peary boat is nearer the Jersey shore anyhow," lie called after the determined looking physician, who had seized his sister's arm as the ferry gong sounded and was hustling her on board. Betsy looked furtively at the vessel, lying low and gray, with her nose up stream, as the ferry passed. There was much deep interest amounting even to fascination In her glance, but she feigned extreme Indifference. Sev eral other people were evidently on the same quest, and as the ferry near ed the Jersey shore a cry of disappoint ment went up. Not a launch or row boat in sight! It looked very much as though those who were not good swim mers would have to content themselves with ferry glimpses of the famed ship, and cameras began snapping industri ously. Again Betsy's manner became more spontaneous. "You will get out to the Roosevelt, will you?" she twitted her brother joy ously. "Well, I don't envy you the swim iu this temperature. Fortunate ly I'm a girl and so exempt." "110, I don't know! Plenty of row boats around here somewhere. Y'ou'll handle the oars all right. You are the most indefatigable croaker I ever saw." Following the directions of a long shoreman, he guided Betsy's lagging footsteps for five minutes across the bridge, down interminable flights of stairs, across the road to the "wood pile" and brought up before a rotten log enmeshed In Ice cakes that led out to a row of decrepit old catiaiboats lying out of commission along the shore. A man appeared around the crnax'r of the little turret on top of one of the boats and asked If they could row. "Well, I should say!" the doctor shohted. Amd Betsy was forced to scramble up the perpendicular old ladder onto the boat, thence across and down a lad<3t>r Into a flat bottomed old fishing borffc.at the other end. Her brother took off his overcoat anil wrapped It atwut her carefully before he seized the*xirs and fell in with the stroke of river man. T)le doctor was studying Betsy cldwny. it looked to him 'very much like a case of the heart, he speculated as they drew near the ship. When she werfkl.v made excuse to remain in the rowboat while her brother clambered over the ship, he was certain that the masculine reason lurked on shipboard. So Betsy, perforce, I warded the Roose velt. The ship was In gala dress, with many sightseers aboard. As Betsy and her brother stood on the deck clutch ing their hats in the stiff breeze, a young, brown, weather beaten man stepped up and rather shyly held out his hand to Betsy. Instantly the doctor looked at his sister. She wns flushed, painfully em barrassed and was stammering like an awkward schoolgirl. He was seized with remorse, and Dr. Cobb came to her rescue, chastising himself mentally. "Haven't I seen you befowe?" he asked engagingly, extending his hdhd to the now embarrassed man, who, he surmised, belonged to the ship, from a certain tine manliness that Is only bred ®f hardship and self reliance. The man smiled a little whimsically as he gripped tlie hand of Metsy's brother. "You are Hots— Cobb's brother, are you not?" Then to, too, was cov ered with confusion. "I beg your par don, sue Is not Miss"— Betsy hud turned sharply away, but her brother ran his hand through her nriu and whirled her right about face. "See here, young lady," he said seri ously, "introduce me to this young man. What Is it, my dear?" To his chagrin and utmost self re proach she had burled her head on his shoulder, and he thought he heard something like a sob work its way out from the cloth of his coat. He could not raise her head. She burrowed It there, lie could only look at the young nortlmian and unveil a romance. The man's face was drawn with a sort of starved tenderness, and bis blue eyes gazed wistfully nt tlfb golden, shiny tendrils which escaped In the wind from the small black turban and swept the doctor's shoulder. Stern re pression showed In the tense mouth. His whole expressive person seemed to bespeak the pain of having lost forever a much loved prize. "Betsy, for heaven's sake, stop cry ing! Those people are looking at us." Tlfe doctor, having determinedly brought on the deluge, was taking man's inalienable right of blaming somebody else. Besides he wanted to know what this was all at>out. Betsy disclosed a flushed but tearless face. "Not crying." She denied the allega tion spiritedly. "What is there to cry about? Foil! I just wanted a whiff of that nice, smelly iodoform on your coat. Mr. Jensen, my brother. And now"— she slipped a companionable hand through the arm of each —"show usths boat." This was more like Betsy. "What is your—name?" he asked iu a voice that was too vibrant to be call ed steady. The doctor wheeled in consternation. "Betsy Colih. haven't yon ever met this inan?" lie demanded. "Col)l>!" The northman's big voice boomed up into the masts with sheer joy. "Aren't you married?" he cried, his boyish face breaking into a pathetic eagerness that was too beautiful and too intimate for any one but Betsy to see. So the doctor was thrust out into a little world of his own for awhile, after Betsy ecstatically gurgled, ' Gracious, no!" Betsy, dear little sister, didn't be long to him any more. And he had in sisted upon getting rid of her! "We've been engaged." Betsy's voile roused him, "ever since the Roosevelt sailed two years ago, but I promised not to tell till Paul came back. Do ysu know why 1 didn't want to come ctit here today? I thought Paul had fir gotten. lie never let me know he silll cared." "Foolish girl," said Paul, grlppiig both her hands in an ecstasy of rec«v ery. "It's ail the fault of old N»v York. I had forgotten in the ice fl<H that everybody down here moves evifv six months, and when I rushed up to Sixty-ninth ireet. all agog with de light to get lack to the deavst litjie girl in the world, they told me MM Cobb was married and didn't live there any more! Think of it! Some ottLr Miss t'olili nearly bowling me off Iv feet like that! I knew two years vj:s a long time for a fascinating little pjrl to remain trr.e to a poor dub probaliy frozen into an ice cake around mo north pole somewhere, so 1 didl't blame her much. 1 was going to j>e everlastingly grateful to her memoip-. For It' it hadn't been for the thounit of her 1 think I should have lost iy grit i.nce or twice. But as It was I just kept on a-living." "I knew it," said Betsy. "I knew it when I saw you." How He Broke Into Literature. Frederic Harrison was a close frldid of George Eliot, and she often asled his advice in regard to points of law that came up in the course of her sto ries. She particularly needed legal ad vice iu a vital part of "Felix IloPt," for. conscientious worker as she was and as all really great artists are, she was not content to make a guess. Mr. Harrison listened as gravely lo the presentation of her problem as lj it concerned real individuals. The nixt day he sent her a carefully and con cisely worded opinion, which she uleil in her book just as ho wrote it. In the* story It Is ascribed to"the attorney general" and is referred to as "final authority." It Is the part printed in italics In chapter thirty-five. Mr. Harrison was both surprised and pleased to see his own words used. He expected that the novelist would wish to express his legal opinion in her own language. "Thanks to George Kllot," he said, with a smile, "I have written something (hat will live forever In English literature."—Philadelphia Press. "Sapsy." At Liverpool street station, I.ohdon, I asked a booking clerk whether he could tell me where Sapsworth was. Ills answer was that he had never heard of such a place. "But." I urged, "is not that llie way the country peo ple pronounce Sawbridgeworth ?" "No, Indeed," he laughingly replied. "They call it Sapsy."—E. 11. Cook In Londoip Spectator. Only Slight Mistakes. Sirs. Lombard is a zealous and loyal friend, and she means withal to avoid exaggeration. "It's perfectly wonder ful to see the way Cousin Henry counts bills at the bank," she said to a patient friend. "Why, I think they are so lucky to have him! He'll take a great pile of five and ten and twenty dollar hills and make his Angers fly Just like lightning and never make a mistake!" "Never?" said the friend, who knew Mrs. Lombard's weakness and could not forbear the question. "Why— no—at least—why, perhaps ha might get 5 or 10 cents out of the way, but not any more, ever." And Mrs. Lombard spoke with the air of one who has taken a stand and refuses all chances to retreat—Youth's Compan ion. His Business. The iady In black pointed toward the sky. "My husband," she sighed, "Is up there, but he Ja looking down. Per haps he sees ail that we do." "How long has he been dead, ma'am?" we Inquired gently. With a frown, she answered: "Dead? He Isn't dead. He's an aeronaut."—Exchange. a o MILTON'S MOTHERS. By W. F. BRYAN. Copyright. 1907, by E. C. Parcells. 0 ■ =o Bess gazed through the open win dow, out past the school yard with its well beaten earth, trampled hard and smooth by the play of generations of children, through the orchards, now pink and white with the promises of fruition, down to where the river wound Its silvery length between green banks and till}' islands. It would be hard to give it all up, and yet before her on the desk was the formal communication from the school board of Milton township notifying her that her services would not be re quired during the ensuing term. The note was cold and formal, but for weeks past she had known of the battle being waged against her. The only objection wns her age, but every mother with a marriagable daughter or son had urged this objection upon the school board. Milton township was j not overwell stocked with young men, and this girl from the city, with her self possessed ways, her stylish clothes and her bright face, constituted a men- j ace to the mothers. For once they united in a common ; cause and urged Bess' removal. The i dimple iu her chin, the soft color of j her cheeks, the laughing brown eyes, ' the rippling hair and the delicious I curves of her throat each constituted I an objection that found common ex- I pression in the cry that she was too J young to manage the young men who ; formed the upper class in the winter term. "There's Jed Stroughtoii," urged Man- i dy Mills. "Why, he's two years old- 1 er'n she be. And him trottin' over to her house every eveniu' t' git help i with bis Latin! What does the boy ' want of Latin anyhow? Of course it was the teacher he wanted. When I was a girl and taught school, you c'u remember I used to whale the boys , goodv, They never had a chance to tlirt wiili tli' teacher then." Si Judson, chairman of the board, told himself that that was iu part re- j sponsible for her continuation In a | a single state of blessedness, but Man ay was the sisteer of the editor of the Banner, and Si wanted to lie town clerk at the next election. So each of the other members had been approached, and the result was the letter (hat lay on the desk in front of the girl. Had she been re-engaged ! she might have spent the summer In | Milton. Now-she must go back to the I hot city and haunt the teachers' j agencies until something else offered for the coming year. Slowly she rose to her feet and went to the door. At the threshold she paused a moment and looked around. Her eyes tilled as her glance swept the empty benches and the ghastly white walls with flic faded maps. She had been happy lire in Milton. She was looking at her schoolroom for the last time. She slipped across the road to .lad son's house and delivered the keys into the keeping of the grim faced Mrs. Judson. "I should like to say goodby to Mr. | Judson," she faltered. "He has been i very kind to me this winter." •;i sent him over to tli ■ Center," his ; .mother said stiffly. "Si ain't got no call to be gnddiiV about with young girls. 'Tain't decent." She closed the door with a nice shade | of emphasis that just avoided a posi- | tive slam, and Bess turned away to- j ward the river. She loved the river. It ; was both companion and comforter, and as she reached the bank she sank into a little nook formed by a screen of bushes, and the tears that had been sternly repressed all day flowed un- 1 checked. When she had first come she had j looked forward to the long summer | days which she would spend by the river. Then she had been full of en thusiasm, and there was no question in her mind as to her continuance in the j position. Now, just as the river seem ed at its best, she was going back to : the city. She recalled with a shudder her struggles of the year before. Her father had died just, after she had graduated from college. When the ! small estate was settled it was found tiiat lie had lived up to every penny of | his income. There was Just enough I left to pay his outstanding debts and ■ leave a couple of hundred dollars for j the girl. The half of this had gone for j board while she sought a position. The \ rest, together with her small savings, ! must go this year. She liad com- j meneed the drudgery of life. She could meet It bravely, but it tore her heart to leave the river and the coun try that she loved so well. She should see the river in town, she knew, a broad, silent stream, covered with shipping and discolored by the tides and refuse. It would be a gray ghost of her old friend, a tantalizing reminder of the river she had lost. She was still sobbing when a sharp, staccato bark resounded and a small terrier bounded into view. Bess rubbed her eyes confusedly. The dog was fawning upou her in a very paroxysm of joy. Surely it would not be Tony, and yet—on the glisten ing collar plate she read the name. "I am James Harvey's Tony. Tell him he's lost me." Tony was a ghost from lier other life, and she threw her arms about his wiry little neck and buried her head upon Ills shoulder. James Harvey, coming softly up to see what game the dog had tracked paused a moment to contemplate the picture. Another instant lie had sprung forward. "Where did you drop from, Bess?" he demanded. "I have beet searching the four corners of the globe for you. 1 "I have been right here," she said steadily as she offered a cool, soft hand. "I had to do something, so I decided to put to use my only talent. 1 am—er, rather, have been—the teasi er of district 4." "And the terror of every mother with a son or dnughter of marriageable age," he completed, with a laugh. "I havel ean hearing about you, but "the teachetv' nevewMlss Mayo." "They are all wrong." she cried bit terly. "I did not want their sons, nor to disappoint their daughters. I just wanted to be left alone to earn my liv ing. and they would not do It." l understand," he said gently. "I studied in old school 4 myself when I was a shaver. This is my home town, you know." "You c«ime from Milton?" she asked. "Somehow I thought you had been born in the city." "I am a traitorous son," he laughed. "This Is my first visit here since I left for college. I have bought up the Mil ton pulp mill and am going to settle down here for the summer. I suppose you realize that you are a tresspasser on my land this very minute?" "It won't be for long," she smiled sadly. "I am leaving for town In the morning to find n school for next year." "Why not stay here?" he urged. "Bess, you must know that I love you, dear. I felt I ought to wait until you left Bryn Mawr before I spoke, but I thought you understood." Scarlet flooded her face. She had thought she understood, but when the crash came Harvey had given no sign. "I was In Europe when your father died," he went on."I was on n pedes trian excursion, and word did not reach me until Well toward the end of sum mer. Then I hurried home, and you had left no trace. May I say now what was lu my heart then? Will you marry me, dear?" She restrained her Impulse to yield. "It is not because you are sorry that I have lost tho position?" she demand ed. "It's not a question of sympathy," he said. "It is love—love that was born long ago." "Do you know," she said pensively, "I was trying to realize what It would mean togo back to the city and leave the river behind? I have grown very fond of the river, .Tim." He took her in his arms with a hap py laugh. lie was familiar with her oddity of expression and knew that, while she spoke of the river, there was a deeper reason. "Now let the alarmed mothers set their minds at rest," he said as he set tled himself with his arm about her. "A most dangerous person has been made harmless by Dan Cupid. I think I am n public benefactor to Milton." "You are more than that to me," she whispered contentedly as, with her head against his shoulder, she looked out across the silvery blue water and realized that through it she had found peace and the man she loved. Nutmeg For Neuralgia. The surerstHlous man thrust two fin gers down his collar and brought forth a string which was tied around his j neck. Attached to the string was a lit tle round dark ball. "A nutmeg." he explained. "I wear it for neuralgia. Never heard of that cure for neuralgia? Best ever. I found it out from an old negress in South Carolina. I was suffering a thousand deaths from neuralgia. The old woman went to my wife and said: "'Why don't you get a nutmeg and put it around his neck?' "My wife laughed, but came and told me about it. I was suffering so ter- ' ribly I was willing to try anything. ! so the old woman got a nutmeg, strung a 'ittle blue ribbon through It, and gave it to me. I put it around my neck, and in a little while the neuralgia was gone. I left tho nutmeg around my neck for a long while, thinking per haps that particular one given me by the negress had some special virtue Thou the m.v.ou ..mi i lost it. "This happened years ago in the south. Last week I got neuralgia again, worse than before, if that could be. I nearly went wild until my wife said, 'Why don't you try another nut meg'/' "And 1 did. With the same result. It wasn't an hour before the paitl was gone. "I can't explain it. I have asked doctors, and they say they can't ex plain It, but they say also that because they can't explain it is no reason they should disbelieve In its efficacy."— Cleveland Plain Dealer. Habits of Monkeys. In their wild state monkeys live In the woods, on the trees, and feed ofl fruits, leaves and Insects. They live together in companies and never go alone when they wish to roll an or chard or find their food. It seems as if they laid regular plans, for part of them stand t > watch the approach of enemies and part enter the field. They form a straight line, reaching from those within to some place beyond which Is a retreat for them. When they are all arranged indue order those In tiie orchard near the trees throw the fruit to those outside as fast as they can gather It. These pass It over to those nearest to them till the fruit is all nicely lodged In their hut or retreat. If the one who acts as sentinel perceives any one coming, he makes a loud noise, and they all run away. Yet even then they will take some fruit under each of their arms or forepaws aud also in their mouths. They are mischievous animals and an noy travelers exceedingly by throwing stones and sticks at them, and they will frequently follow them for some distance when they are passing through the woods by leaping from tree to tree. They are capable of forming strong at tachments even with other animals, and they exhibit mildness, affection aud docility. All Scrappers. Callahan—Oi want to git a book to put th' photographs av all me rela tlves in. Oi think this wan will do. Clerk—Hut that isn't a family at bum, sir; that is a scrapbook. Callahan—Oh, that's all right, younj( man; all av me relatives are scrap pers—Puck. Rather Negative. Father—Well, Tommy, what did yot. learn at school today? Tommy—l fearned that two negatives are equiva lent to an affirmative. Father—And what's an affirmative? Tommy—l don't know. We haven't got that far along yet—Chicago News. A Paradox of Koett. "Poets have always had scanty en couragement." "Yes," answered the sad eyed youth with Inky fingers. "The Idea seems to be that poetry Is something everybody ought to read and nobody ought to | write."—Washington Star. She Helped. Rayner—lt took nerve, didn't it, to break yourself of the habit of smok ing at your age? Shyne—lt did, you bet! But my wlfe—er—has plenty of ' that.—Chlcaeo Tribune. 83560 QUAINT QUEBEC. The Old World Charm That Crowna This Picturesque City. Dear, delightful old Quebec, with her gray Avails and shining tin roofs; her precipitous, headlong streets and sleepy squares and esplanades; her narrow alleys and peaceful convents; her harmless antique cannon on the para pets and her sweet toned bells In the spires; her towering chateau on the heights and her long, low, queer smell ing warehouses in the lower town; her spick and span caleches and her dingy trolley cars; her sprinkling of soldiers and sailors with Scotch accent and Irish brogue and cockney twang on a background of petite bourgeolse speak ing the quaintest of French dialects; her memories of an adventurous glit tering past aud her placid content ment with the tranquil grayness of tho present; her glorious daylight outlook over the vale of the St. Charles, the level shore of Montmorenci, the green He d'Orleans dividing the shining reaches of the broad St. Lawrence, and the blue Laurentian mountains rolling far to the eastward, and at night the dark bulk of the citadel out lined against the starry blue, and far below the huddled housetops, the si lent wharfs, the lights of the great warships swinging with the tide, the Intermittent ferryboats plying to and fro, the twinkling lamps of Levis ris ing along the dim southern shore and reflected on 112 the lapsing, curling sea ward sliding waves of the great river! What city of the new world keeps so much of the charm of the old?— Henry Van Dyke in Scribner's Magazine. STAMPING ENVELOPES. Queer Ways Some Folks Have of Do ing This Simple Act. "The only way to stop people from plastering a stamp at any old place upon the envelope except the right cm a is to do as Is done in England. There a letter which does not have the stamp in the right position is cast aside and handled only when ail other mail la sorted and exchanged." This Idea was advanced by a postal clerk quoted by the Philadelphia Record. "We often lose considerable time because of these letters," continued the clerk, "for often we have to stop and turn over an en velope to find the stamp. We do not mind so much tho love sick youth 01 maiden who places the stamp on the center of the envelope, because a stamp so placed can be seen at a glance, but it Is chiefly with the foreigners that we have the trouble. These people In variably put on a stamp at any but the right place, and you would bo sur prised to know how they do it Why, I have seen letters upon which the stamps have been placed on the back of the envelope at the point where the society girl will put her monogram In sealing wax. Others when they have to pay, say, 5 cents postage will buy five one-cent stamps and put one on each corner of the envelope, with the remaining one acting as a seal upon the bock." The First Ecok Catalogue. The first book catalogue was issued in 15G-1 In Augsburg. Germany, b.v one George Wilier. It was a quarto of UllHllxu uuu ..... of 2r>o books arranged In classes. Hand lists or posters were printed as early as 1 Pi!) by Jonathan Mentel (or Mentelln) of Strassburg, who printed the first edition of the Ttibio in 1105 or 1100. The first catalogue in England was printed In 1."95 by John Windet for Andrew Maunsell. a bookseller. ■—k. The Home Paper ] J | i of Danville. i 1 j | OF COURSE SJU READ \ 1 ' M F || THE FT COPLEYS | POPULAR I APER. j ! II ! Everybody Rv ads It.i. i Jl Publishe. Overj IVlom". Except Sunday r' , I ' !i No. II L /-lahc.,jst. I Subscrip 'i ;ri A <;-r > ** ~ | HIGH GRADE TEAS. Some That Never Get Beyond the Boundaries of Chin*. "Many of the highest grade Chinese teas never leave the country—that la, are never exi>orted in commercial quan tities," says a writer. "Tea specialist* In Europe and America manage to ob tain specimens through corresponding firms in Chinese export centers, but these snmpk-s are not for sale. These rare teas are preserved for occasional comparison and testing with the gen eral commercial teas. They are known as 'tinexported teas.' I have knovrn of only one person outside of the ten pro ducing countries who supplies the trade of the general public with speci mens at the rare teas. IDs prices i range Oom $75 to $10»> a pound. "A« not even an expert can safely Judge such tea by its nppearatice alone, it is necessary to taste it in the cop be fore purchasing. The vender can hard j ly afford to dispense this SIOO tea gra | tuitously, so a charge of $1 to $1.50 a ' cup 1b made, and as a Judiciously pre pared infusion allows the making of about 200 cups from a pound of tea the profit from tills tasting Is almost gigantic. On rare occasions exception ally valuable teas sold at auction in London have brought from $225 to $275 a pound. "But these fancy tens—almost lit erally worth their weight In gold—are rarely seen by ordinary people. They are preserved In sealed glass jars In the safes of the tea specialists xvbo own them. Such exceptional teas are worth the high valuation placed'upon them."—Chicago News. mm sew i A. Reliable TIN SHOP Tor all kind of Tin Roofing, Spoutlne and Caneral Jot* Work. Stoves, Heaters, Furnaces. «to. PRICES THE LOWEST! QUALITY TEE BEST! JOHN HIXSON SO. 118 E. FRONT BT. (KILLTHE COUCH AND CURE THE LUNGS j W,TH Dr. King's - I Haw lsNd!#UVsl J Price 1 rOR I OUGHS and 50c&$1.00 \ W PLDS Free Trial. J Surest and ttuickeat Cure for all I THROAT and LUNG TROUB i LES, or MONEY BACK. i* 1 ■"* I 111jj!... We want to do aii kinfls of Priming I I if H! irs Neit. I! will Please. !l's Ruin if -i" A well printed tasty, Bill or L.c \r / ter Head, P<\?ts.» h/h Ticket, Circulr.; r>l ment or Card « W an advertisemeii foryoui business • satisfaction to you lew Type, lew Presses, Best Paper, * Skilled fort A ' Promptness- All you can ask. A trial will make you our customer We respect full" hsV that trial. l ¥¥» - No. II F.. Mahoning St..
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers