CORNAYLIUS HA-HA-HA.HANNIGAN. ®Twas the godfather stuttered, or may- But, hap the priest; be that as it may, it is certain, at least What the wan or the other was surely to blame Fur presintin’ the lad the quare twist to his name. For there at the christ'nin’, Wid iv'ry wan list’nin’, Now didn’t his Riverence, O’Flanigan, Wid nervousness stam’rin’, Bechune the child’s clam’rin’, Baptize it “Cornaylius Ha-Ha-Ha-Han- rigan! Father Wid these words from the priest, shure, the cate little rogue j Up @n’ stopped his own mouth wid his chubby kithogue, {An’ the dimples broke out an’ prosaded to chase 1] the tears an’ the frowns from his inno- cint face. For, faix, he was afther Absorbin’ the laughther ‘8tuck into his name by O’Flanigan! Now that's the thruth in it, An’ so from that minute Shure. iv'ry 1 called the lad “Ha-Ha- an. good Father clos i Fy For the 5 the same. Not a care iver touched him from that blissid day t o’ the laughther would drive 1t a £ Wid jokin’ an’ chaffin’ He niver stopped laughin’, Or if he did stop he immajiate began agin; An’ iv'ry wan hearin’ His laughter so cheerin Jist iined in the mirth o’ young “Ha- Ha-Ha-Hannigan. > Shure, the throubles o’ life are so palthry au’ small, "Pis a pity we let thim disthurb us at all. There 1s niver a care but would Vave us nly stand up an’ jist laugh in its Cc. Taix. life were a pleasure f all had the t sure Conferred 1 i O’Flanigan, If all could but borrow That cure-ell for sorrow Pos n ed hy “Cornaylius Ha-Ha-Ha-Han- an!> —T. A. Daly, in Catholic Standard and Times. by Father A BALCONY SCENE By CAMILLA J. KNIGHT. 1 £0 100 1 1 U1 Fro 1 ag O¥%. HEN Katharine came back re Ye to the dinner table after the telephone <Q answering } she looked so sober, es- Oo pecially in contrast with her previous high spirits, that the family resolved itself into an. interra- gation point at once. “Harry can't come for me,” Ce she said, “Is that all? Thought there must have been a death at the very least.” “No, that's not all. He very kindly provides me with an escort, and that escort mone other than Mr. Randolph Payson.” “Well, what's the matter with Mr. Payson? 1 thought he was all right.” “That's just what's the matter—he’s go invariably and provokingly all right. He's a perfect paragon of propriety, and I shall be sure to do something fo shock him. I've half a mind not to go.” “Oh, XKaaharine,” mother, “you must. fng on your solos.” “Yes, that's another thing. Some pne has failed him at the last minute and he wants me to sing another. 1 hate these concerts for the benefit of something anyway; they're always in gome stuffy hall, and there's never a decent piano.” “An unprejudiced observer would al- most be tempted to think you are pross, Kit,” remarked her brother. “It’s enough to make anybody cross. fl don’t see how; Mr. Payson can recon- iclle it with his conscience to take me fn a carriage without a chaperon, but fhe says he jumped at the chance. interposed her Harry is depend- e idea! Of course it was all right lo go with Harry.” Liyyell, dear,” said her mother, sooth- gly, “you must just do the best you san. I can’t imagine why you feel Most girls would be de- about it. Mighted with Randolph Payson as an 133 ort.” ju*Most girls are scared blue of him, Bust the same. It's enough to ‘rile’ anybody just to look at him, he's so mbsolutely faultless.” + Katherine was ready at the appoint pd time, and was alone, the other mem- fers of the family, including the maids, having gone out. She was positively mervous about meeting Mr. Payson, @nd started violently when the bell proclaimed his arrival. She picked mp her gloves to go, but to her horror ] room door would not open! No, it was not locked, and the knob turned but did not unlatch. Meanwhile the bell rang again. What should she do? Of course she could not make him hear, and she rattled the knob and pounded and pulled to mo purpose. Bhe lived in the lower flat of an apart- gnent house, and her room had long windows opening on a small balcony, She rushed out there, only to find that she could not see the front entrance, but she hailed a boy, passing. “Boy,” she called, “come here if you want to earn a dime.” The boy cae avith alacrity. “Is there a carriage in front of the house?’ she asked. “Yes,” said the boy. «Then please go around to the en- grance and tell the gentleman who is at the door of this flat that Miss Har- rison cannot come to the door just now, and ask him to please wait a few minutes. Do you understand it?” “Yes'm,” said the boy, and repeated the message. Then he started off “Oh, come back a minute. Do you know where the janitor’s rooms are? Then please go and ask him to come at once to Flat 1, and fix a door that won’t open. Now, don’t tell the gentle- man that,” she added, as she tossed him a dime. ‘A moment or two later, she heard steps, but instead of the small boy or the janitor, it was Mr. Payson. Her first impulse was to hide, but the glare of the street light made her conspicu- ous, so he had already seen her. Lift- ing his hat, he said, “Good evening, Miss Harrison,” as calmly as if it was his daily custom to greet from the lawn a young lady on a balcony. “Qh,” began Katharine, “I told the Poy not to tell you.” “The boy,” said Mr. Payson, gravely, “gave me a rather confused message gbout a door and waiting and said he was going for the janitor. I insisted om knowing where I might find the young lady who had sent him, and following his directions, I am here.” “Yes,” said Katharine, confused. “May I ask what the trouble is, and if I can do anything?” Katharine wanted to tell him he might ask anything if he would only take off that expression of calm dis- approval hich made her feel as if she were a naughty five-year-old. But she explained matters, in an embar- rassed, hesitating way,, which made her appear more charming even ihan usual. “Isn’t your.door locked?” he asked. “I knew you'd asi that. No, it isn’t. It acted just this way once before— we've lived here only a week—and the janitor said it was 211 right aiter he fixed it, but it won't open now.” An oppressive silence was broken by the return of the boy. The janitor had gone out and his wiie caid he would be back in an hour or two and she would tell him. “An hour or two!” echoed Katharine in dismay: ‘The concert will be over by that time.” “If we had a ladder, Miss Harrison,” said Mr. Payson. “Ah! 1 have a thought. Excuse me; I'll be back in a minute,” and he turned . quickly away. “Oh,” what will he think of me?” moaned Katharine. “This is awful!” and she went into the room for an- other try at the knob, which, however, proved futile. The sound of steps called her back to the balcony. What in the world. The carriage, Mr. Payson on the box with the driver, was coming straight toward her. As it stopped, Mr. Pay- son stood upon the seat, from which he could just reach to climb to the balcony. As he came over the rail, he said: “We'll just pretend I'm thé janitor for a minute, while I see if I.can do anything with that refractory door,” and he stepped into the room. His en- tire manner had changed, and Kath- arine stood in amazement at the vision of the paragon of propriety in her room on his knees before her door-knob. What wad more, he was running on with merry nonsense the while, in a way she could not have imagined pos- sible. He was obliged to give up the problem, however, and returned i» the balcony. “I see but one way for you, Miss Harrison,” he said. “I'll ask the driver to stand at the horses’ heads, and if you can climb over the rail—it's not very high—TI'll stand on the seat and help you down. Can you manage it, do you think?’ His eyes were danc- ing with fun, as he looked into hers. Could it be that the precise Mr. Payson wag enjoying this escapade? “] can do it all right” Katharine, “but, yes, I wili. disappoint Harry.” : “Hope it won't hurt your gown,” he said, as he sprang lightly down to the seat. “That's it; very gracefully done. Now, take care your dress doesn’t catch. There, that was dead easy. Now wait a minute. Here you are on terra firma. Miss Harrison's carriage.” as he opened the door with a flourish and a very low bow. Then, to her sur- prise, he mounted to the balcony again, went in, turned out the light and closed the window. “Now we are all right,” he said, as he settled himself comfortably beside her, and the carriage rolled along. “We shan’t be very lite, either; only fashionably so.” “Thank you so much,” murmured Katharine, unsteadily. He turned quickly to lier. : “Why, you poor little girl! You are trembling! Den’'t take it so hard. Ac- cidents will happen, you knew, and ‘all’s well that ends well.’ Cheer up,” and he smiled so gemnially that she na- turally résponded. Suddenly she started up. “Oh, stop him quick!” “I’ve forgotten my music! stupid » Payson told the driver to turn back, then said: “I don’t wonder that you forgot: it. But I'm equal to anotheraraid on your room.” “You must have it, I suppose?” ¢] could get along, ‘but my accom- admitted I mustn't she cried. What a 'peen hindered. Oh, ‘dent distress proved that you were the ’ The carriage stopped at re a balcony off the music m, too?’ * n that's dead easy if the win- dow is unfastened. If not, glass is brittle.” They drove to the side of the house-and stopped, by Katharine’s directions. “The music is on the piano in my musie-roll,” said Katharine, as he entered the swindow. “The telephone is ringing three,” he called as he reappeared. ‘Is that your number?” “Yes,” answered Katharine. “Prob- ably Harry is getting impatient.” “Shall I answer it? We might as well relieve his mind. Or no; I can find the door and let you in, if you drive around to the front.” So it came to pass that Katharine was let into her own home by Mr. Payson, who, smilingly bade her wel- come, the telephone meanwhile ringing wildly. “Iello!” Yes, this Katharine. No, but we're just starting. . No, but we've no matter how. Yes, we'll come right along now. Good- by.” “Tt was Harry,” she continued, “and he's wild to know why I'm not there,” her cheeks flushing as she remembered Harry's peremptory question: “Have you and Payson eloped?” As they neared their destination, Mr. Payson said: : “Suppose we keep the events of the evening to ourselves, Miss Harrison? Not that you have anything to be ashamed of; but I know what your life will be if Harry Thayer gets hold of what has happened.” : “He is an awful tease,” said Kath- arine. “I never thought, but I'd have to explain, though. It's kind of you —if we could avoid telling—" “Of course we can. It's agreed, then, that it’s a secret between us.” Harry had no time to question as he dragged Katharine into the dressing- room, saying: “I’ve had to change the program now so as to bring your first song later. “Don’t be cross, Thayer,” said Mr. Payson. “Our delay was absolutely unavoidable, on her part, at least.” “Phat was generous,” thought Kath- arine. “And almost as if it was his fault.” : She was at her best that evening, many telling her they had never heard her sing so well. Harry and Mr. Pay- son were on their way to her after the concert, when Harry said: “Much obliged of you, Payson, for escorting Miss Harrison safely here at last. But I'll relieve you now; I can take her home.” “Thayer,” said Payson, suddenly, “how much claim have you on Miss Harrison?” “None at all,’ answered Harry, promptly, “only she’s my cousin, and I've always known her.” “Then I take her home,” said Pay- son, decidedly. “Hope you won't be as long get- ting there as you were coming here,” laughed Harry, adding, as Katharine came toward them: “Mr. Payson in-, sists on finishing up the escorting business, Kit, se I'm out.” «'As they left the carriage, Mr. Pay- son said: “Why did you seem so surprised when Thayer said I was to take you home, Miss Harrison?” : “Why—I—thought you must be dis- gusted with me. I'd made you'so much trouble, and I knew you were 80 particular about—" «About the proprieties? I have that reputation, I know, and I am. I have no patience with ‘girls who do all sprts of wild things unclaperoned; but this is different. Such’ a thing ‘might lave happened to any one,” and your evi- kind ‘of a girl I had ‘always thought you were. Anyway, I shall be very glad if I may have’ the privilege of calling -on you and, being admi ted in a proper manner, not sclimbing up some other way.” May I?” Katharine assented, and he went on impulsively: “I heard you say as I left you to get the carriage: ‘What will he think of me? Some time I shall be glad to tell you exactly what I think of you,” and his eyes told her then, as she bade Jim good-night—The Affierican Queen, Civilization, Seven thousand. husbands annually deeserting their wives in Manhattan, or New York the Less, illustrate one of the great difficulties which civilization has to meet with in its progress up- ward. Women, owing to their cloistered life, are not touched with the Zegitgest as promptly or as profoundly as men’ are, and the result is, they lag bellind, as it were. So that it comes about that 7000 wives are still crude enough to wear their wrappers all day, while their husbands are already Joo refined to endure this, and flee the sight of it. Recourse to the machinery of justice is pretty much futile. These subtler sentiments evade the coercive measures of the positive law. They are like the ether, which the chemist tries to catch and hold, only to find it freely passing out through any walls he can construct. —Puck. Distance a Girl Dances. ‘A young man fond of dancing recent- ly took a pedometer with him to a ball and found that in the course of the. evening he had covered thirteen and a half miles. The average length of a waltz was half a mile, of a polka three-quarters of a mile, of a galop or schottische a mile, and of lanciers a quarter of a mile. A girl usually dances more than a man and is cai- culated to cover more than sixteen UP-TO-DATE The Modern Germ-Proof Barber Shop of the Present Day. “This towel,” said the attendant in the germ-proof barber shop, “has been subjected to an extreme heat and is thoroughly sterilized. We take every precaution against exposing our patrons to infection or contagion.” “Good thing,” commended the patron. “This soap,’ went on the attendant, picking up a cake thereof, “has been debacterialized, and the comb and brush are thoroughly antisepticated.” “Great scheme,” said the patron. “The chair in which you sit is given a daily bath in bichloride of mercury, while its cushions are baked in an oven heated to 987 degrees, which is guaranteed to shrivel up any bacillus that happens along.” “Hot stuff,” said the patron. «The razor and the lather-brushes are boiled before being used, and the lather-cup is dry heated until there is pot the slightest possibility of amy germs being concealed in it? “Fine,” said the patron. «Phe hot water with which the lather is mixed is always double heated and sprayed with a germicide, besides be- ing filtered and distilled.” “mxcellent,” said the patron. “Even the floor and the ceiling and the walls and the furniture are given antiseptic treatment every day, and rll change handed out to our customers is first wiped with antiseptic gauze. The shoe-polish at the boot-hlack chair is boiled and then frozen and the—"" “Well, look here,” said the patron, who had been sitting wrapped in the towel during all this, “why don’t you go ahead and shave me? Think I'm loaded with some kind of germ that you have to talk to death?” “No, sir,” answered the «But I am not the barber.” “Youre not? Where is he?” “They are boiling him, sir."—I1lus- trated Bits. ee et eet WORDS OF WISDOM, attendant. Nought’s had, alls spent, Where our desire is got without content. —Shakespeare. If woman did nturn man out of para- dise she has done her best ever since to make it up to him.—Sheldon. There is no future pang Can deal that justice on the self-condemned He deals on his own soul. i —Byron. In the man whose childhood has known caresses and kindness. there is always a fibre of memory that can be touched to gentle issues.—George Eliot, O grant me, heav'n, a middle state, Neither too humble, nor too great: More than enough for nature’s ends, With something left to treat my friends. —David Mallet. Petter a little faith dearly won, bet- ter launched alone on the infinite be- wilderment of truth, than perish on the splendid plenty of the richest creeds.—Henry Drummond. There are some people who turn gray, but do not grow hoary, whose faces are furrowed but not wrinkled, whose hearts are sore wounded in many places, but are not dead. There is youth that bids defiance to age, and there is kindness which laughs at the world’s rough usage. Whom the gods love die young, and they die young because they never grow old,—F. Mar- fon Crawford, Concerning Rewards. “Hvery once in a while.” said a traveling man at the Albany Hotel this morning, “I hear or read of some- body who refused a reward for return- ing some article which had been lost, because the amotint offered was small. The fifider was usually insulted. That doesn’t seem Tight to me. Why should anybody sneer at a reward? What right have we to expect any reward at all for our honesty? A few days ago’ while walking down an Omaha 'stréet T'saw a man ahead of me drop a'pocketbook. “A messenger boy picked it “ip. - Just then the man missed it afd.the bay returned it to him without looking inside. The man gave the boy ai quarter. The boy accepted it, but was disgusted. “Ig dat all I git for bein’ honest? he asked. ‘Yer a-pretty cheap guy. “ ‘There's just $3 in the pocketbook,’ said the man. «Well, you oughter gimme a dollar, anyway, the boy replied. “Had I been the man I'd have been sorely tempted to add a kick to the quarter,” concluded the traveling man. “And there are lots and lots of people just like that boy in this world."— Denver Post.- Cattlemen and Sheepmen at Peace. «The “catilemen and sheepmen are coming, to a jmore amicable under- standing and few more sheep killings are. expected,” said Douglas Mec- ‘Arthur, a sheepman of Prineville. «In fdct, many of the cattlemen are buying sheep and the enmity which existed between the two factions is not so strong as it used to be. “Sheep are very easily killed, and two or three men with rifles can slaughter a surprisingly large number of them in a very short time. The ani- mals when they become frightened im- med’ately bunch up, seeking safety In numbers, and this makes it all the easier for those who shoot them. When they bunch several of them can be killed with one shot.”—Portland Ore- gonian. . Garter Facts and Fancies. The girls of Tuscany wear daggers fn their garters. « In Mississippi a lost garter means a fost sweetheart. A bride’s garter should be pale blue —the sign of a long and happy married life. Certain coquettes of the Austrian eourt wore bells on their garters in 1872. miles in a single evening.—Chicago | Journal Queen Elizabeth's garters were of cloth of gold, with buckles of dia- monds and seed pearls. MOTORISTS’ FINES Tribute Levied Upon the Spced Fiends . is Enormous, The tribute levied upon fnotorists by the magistrates of the United King- dom during 1904 reached the enor- mous sum of £218,000. This amount averages very nearly £10 per head for every car on the road that year. Astonishing as these figures appear, it is probable that when the total of this year’s fines can be made up it will reach well over £300,000. The increase this year is due to the persistent manner in which the police in many parts of the country, and es- pecially in the southern counties, have pursued their campaign against motor cars by means of traps. “The latest form of police trap is an electrical arrangement,” says Stenson Cooks, Secretary of the Automobile Association. “A piece of rope is al- most buried ‘across the road at the start of a measured furlong. When the car touches the rope it starts a timepiece. Another rope is laid at the end of the trap, and when the car touches this it stops the timepiece. This is the most just and reliable form of trap, for it does not depend for its accuracy upon cheap stop watches and unskilled police as timekeepers. “By the system of patrols which the ‘Automobile Association has estab- lished many of the police traps have been completely nullified. At Guild- ford some time ago as much as £105 was taken in fines from motorists in one day. Now that our scouts are at work things are very different. “On two main roads, working two days a week, the patrols exercised the necessary restraint on 297 motor cars. But for the association's efforts at least half of these would have been fined. We estimate that we save £100 a week on each road.”—London Ex- press. Placing the Blame. ‘John Philip Sousa was condemning the voice of a comic opera comedian. “It is such a voice,” he said, smiling, “gs belonged to a young man whom I knew in my boyhood days in Wash- ington. “One night at a men’s party this young man sang a solo. It was exe erable. In the midst of the hideous racket, bluff old Squire Baer entered. “Squire Baer sat down and folded his hands on the knob of his stout stick. He waited patiently till the young man had finished. Then he said to him: “ “Well, boy, I don’t blame you. You did your best. But if I knevr the man who asked you to sing I'd crack him over the head with this club.’ ”—Phil- adelphia Bulletin. Old Mantrap Found, A mantrap has been found in Al- ford, Lincolnshire, England, which shows the barbarity of less than a century ago. It is probably the largest mantrap in existence. It is 76 inches in length and its jaws, with teeth pro- truding 2 inches, will open fully 2 feet 2 inches by 18 inches. Oldtime land- lords who choose to insist upon their rights in their entirety, as they often did, were at liberty to plant these bar- barous engines about in the under- growth of their inclosed lands for the benefit of any trespasser or possi- ble poacher who might chance to set foot near them. Their use was abol- ished by law in 1827. - Nearly Extinct Bird. The kite, according to ornithologi- cal authorities, is declared to be ex- tinct, and it is practically so. But a vigilance committee has nevertheless been formed in Wales for the protec- tion of the bird. A photographer re- cently traced one of the only pair of kites known to exist in South Wales to a cave in the mountains and with a lucky snapshot secured a photograph. The home of the pair is being kept a secret. Studious Monarch. The czar has a habit of spending more time in his study than almost any other ruler in-the world. The czarina is always seated with him while he is at work in this room. In this respect he stands almost alone among great monarchs, as nearly all of them prefer to have women out of the way when they are immersed in the business of state in their own pri- vate rooms. Money in Abalones. The abalone industry is a consider- able one among the Chinese of the Pacific coast. Several processes are necessary to bring out the wonderful colorings in the shells, and acres of ground are devoted to curing them. This work is carried on by the Mon- golian fishermen, who depend for their sole sustenance upon the fish of the bivalve itself. Somewhat Indecent Haste. Jones, who had recently married Smith's widow, hastily opened a note which lay on the breakfast table with- out looking at the address. To his discomforture he found a circular from a firm of monumental masons, enclos- ing a drawing of a tombstone with the inscription: “To the memory of my beloved husband, whom I can never replace.” Obeyed Direction. As I was going along the street the other day I met an old friend of mine, Pat Murphy. After talking over old times I asked him if he had ever got a letter from his brother. Says he: “Yes, I did, but he had stamped on the corner of the envelope, return in five days, so 1 sent it back.”—Boston Herald. Hair in Sixth Century. A portrait of Queen Basine, mother of Clovis, the first Christian king of Trance, shows that women of the sixth century wore their long, heavy tresses in two great locks, which were artistically laced with ribbons. (EYSTONE STATE CILLINGS CHLOROFORM DOCTOR Thieves Secure Much Property, n= cluding Revolver, and Raise Window Before Leaving. L. F. Donahue at Mahanoy Plans, near Mahanoy City, and after chloroform- ing the doctor, his wife and twe children got away with cash, jewelry and wearing apparel to the value of $400. In a hand bag in a bureau drawer was $500 in cash. This was left on the floor, with the money in- tact. The doctor's loaded revolver was taken. Before departing the burglars raised the windows in all the bedrooms. It was announced that Dr. George W. Atherton has asked to be relieved of the presidency of the Pennsylvania State college and that a committee of the trustees has been appointed to look up a successor.’ In the mean- time Dr. Atherton has been granted a leave of absence until the opening of the spring term, when if a suitable man has been found to succeed him his resignation will be formally tend- ered and accepted. 111 health is giv- en as the reason. Dr. Atherton is past 68 years old and has been presi- dent of the college since 1882. R. W. Trevor of Somerset paid a negro 25 cents to. show him to the home of his cousin. John Ray of Con- nellsville, with whom be intended to spend Christmas. On the way the guide thrust a revolver in Trevor's face and relieved him of a gold watch and chain, $27 and an over- coat. John Miller; employed in the rail- road car shop at Meadville, has no faith in banks and kept his savings in a cigar box in a bureau drawer, which his wife guarded. Mrs. Miller was last evening, during which time the cigar box containing $730, disappear- ed. . While walking along the tracks of the Chartiers Valley road, near Wash- ington, Stephen Stefancie saw the body of a man lying near the track. Investigation showed it to be that of his brother, Michael Stefancie, a tub mill worker, who had been killed vy a train. Nearby were scattered Christ- mas presents for his wife and chil- dren. The Greenough colliery at Kulp- mont, owned by Shamokin, Scranton and IHlazelton capitalists, resumed operations. “It was closed down since last fall owing to the breaker structure heing destroyed by fire of supposed incendiary origin. The breaker was rebuilt. Five thousand men and bovs were re-employed. The mills of the Shenandoah Powd- er Company, at Krebs Station, near Mahanoy City, blew up shortly after the employes had left for dinner. No one was hurt but had the explosion occurred 10 minutes earlier the loss of life would probably been heavy. The monetary loss is about $15,000. Roy Beighley, of Vandergrift, who disappeared several days ago, while on his way to the bank with $312 to deposit, has been traced to Chicago. Private detectives in the employ of the boy’s father learned that the boy had been led astray by older com- panions. James Quigley, vf Butler, a switch- man of the Standard Steel Car works, stepped backward in front of an ap- proaching engine on another track. His right arm and left foot were ground off. Quigley succeeded to the position held by John Kelly, who was killed a few weeks ago. punbar, returned home from a visit to a neighbor’s, she discovered that her daughter, Mary, was burned to death. Miss Matthews was 28 years old, and was deaf and dumb. It is believed her clothes caught fire at an open grate. : Judge Thomas H. Capp, of Lebanon whom Gov. 8. 'W. Pennypacker re- cently appointed to the vacant Dauphin county judgeship, created by the death of President judge John M. Weiss, took the oath of office and en- tered upon his duties. . Despendent over the recent death of his daughter, George Auman, of Pottsville, 50 years old, threw him- self upon her grave and then ex- ploded a stick of ‘dynamite on his chest. The dynamite blew him inate pieces. George D. Eichler, a Pennsylvania railroad fireman, with headquarters at Youngwocd, was arrested, charged with being a deserter from the navy. He was taken to New. York. Six months age he married Minerva Eis- nan of Madison. ‘ Rev. C. M. Knight, who has been pastor of the Church Vanderbilt, has resigned and will go to Ennis, Tex., where he will take charge of one of the influential churches of that city. : Governor Pennypacker . appointed Edward T. Stotesbury,’ of Philadel- phia, treasurer of the Pennsylvania commission to the Jamestown exposi- tion. Peter Bloodgood, of near Greens- burg, shot and killed himself in the presence of his wife and flve children. He was 35 years old. : An unknown man was killed by a Pennsylvania railroad train at La- trobe. The body was mangled be- yond recognition. The will of the late John Franklin Miner was filed for probate at Beav- er. Mr. Miner leaves his fortune, which is large, to his wife and her heirs. His son, John Reade Miner, is made executor of the will. John Houge, 54 years old, a re- tired farmer of Newport, fell from the overhead Pennsylvania railroad bridge at Wampum, Pa., and was killed. He is survived by his wife and mother. ! : Minnie Geatile, aged 2, died from injuries suffered Saturday night ..at Hillsville. She bit the end of a dv- namite blasting cap. absent from her home for 15 minutes When Mrs. Reuben Matthews of of Christ at ay Ce Ep a i a he Ra UAL Mee haa Zh UE pel NS PRE OP N
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers