REALITY. a—— Of Love the minstrel sang, and drew Ar easy finger o'er the strings, Then laughed and sang of other thinge— f grass and flowers and azure blue Leve the poet wrote, and soft ad sweet the liquid measures flowed, : Khen gave his moments to an ode, ‘Amd crooks and shepherds mentioned oft, ©®zre day the singer met with Love. And mighty music shook his strings, While dreams and light imaginings * His new-roused spirit soared above. Tre met the poet on his way, And kindled all his soul to fire, ? Filled all his measures with desire. And left no room for fancies gay. The minstrel sang to Love one song, And died for joy. vet lives in this The poet, touched by Love’s warm kiss, With echoes fills the ages long. : —Oscar Fay Adams. THE ACCUSING CONSCIENCE 33333333 TTT TEA Fo - PP IEF IT Montresson’s limbs trembled be- neath him as he stood up to receive the verdict of the jury. For three weeks the trial had waged about him =—fOW an accusing witness dramati- cally reciting damning facts which breught the murder directly to the accused man's door; again one who recited what little there was to be ted in the prisoner's favor. The vetee of the attorney for the defense, striving to make the worst appear the better reason, hed risen in con- flick with the cold, cutting accusa- tisms of the district attorney. Vis- iems of life and freedom were dis- placed by nightmares of the room with the little door—the gaunt chair —+the twelve solemn-faced, profes- siomal witnesses, the sharp click of tie key, the end! Hven the presence of his wife at his side had not served to lighten the legd that he carried. He had felt at tithes as if he should be compelled to ex¥ out, so ordinary and humdrum @id it seem to everyone else—so vital te’ him. The pain of it all was acute, amd the more so because of his feel- img of utter loneliness—because of the fact that among all of them there, ke alone, Basil Montresson, knew whether he had taken human life woatonly; he alone could say whether the tortures that he had en- dred through those three tumultu- ous weeks came from a consciousness of sutraged innocence, or of remorse o%& the act and gnawing fear of the ceMpsequences. “Jurors, look upon the prisoner— priBoner, look upon the jurors. How sa you, gentlemen of the jury, do yi find the prisoner guilty or not ty?” . "Not guilty.’ Phe words seemed to come from afer off. At first he wasn’t sure that ho had heard right. A low murmur of voices in the court room attracted hi attention, and he glanced about in'eonfusion. Then he felt a tugging at his coat. He was drawn into his sept, and a woman’s arms encircled him. A woman's head fell upon the skaulder. “Basil, Basil!” she cried, “don't Yea hear? Don’t you understand? Yam are free, free! Oh, thank God that it is so. Thank God! Thank Gefl'” Her cries awoke him from his stu- pec. He bent forward mechanically amd kissed her. A pang went through kim when their lips met. He vaguely fat that he had done something ‘lat be should not have done. His attun ney took his hand and pressed it, saying: “Congratulations, Montresson. It was a hard fight, but I never had any daubt as to the result. Come along, Bow. There is nothing more to hold you here. Come out in the fresh air. Brace up, man; brace up!”’ He looked curiously at this advo- cate—the man who had wrought the wénderful thing, and mumbled a few weeds of thanks. But there was no warmth in the haid-clasp with which he returned the salutation of the law- yer. The next thing that he remembered was being in the carriage beside his vaife. She was holding his hand, al- tamately smiling and weeping, and murmuring her thanks for his de- liwerance. “The children will be waiting for us;”’ she crooned. ‘‘They will be glad. Think, Basil, if—if it had— beén—otherwise.” She shuddered and shrank back info the corner of the seat. “But it couldn’t have been,” she hastened to say. “Oh, I was confi- demt from the very beginring. 1 kaew it was all a mistake. 1 knew that they would see it as I did. How camld they believe that you, my Basil, could—Oh, it is all too hor- ride.” “Yes,” he said, suddenly, in a hol- ley voice, “it is all horrible. God, if I' gould only get the thing out of my mind.” “But you are free now,” she said, #gxonerated, and the world knows that you are innocent.” He looked down at her with great, Bleod-shot eves—rpeering, question- dmg eyes, eyes that seemed tu read Yer through and through, wonderirg eyes, eves filled with apprehension, fear, shame, remorse—for what? So they rode out into the syburbs of the great city, the man’s gaze fixed wonderingly on the old familiar sights that now looked so strange to him. He had been in jail but nine months and yet the change seemed like that of a century span. He speculated if the world would ever again look to him as it did be- fore that night—that night when the gale drove the clouds in great black masses ‘across the night and the hawk cried shrilly; that night when the moon leaped suddenly into a blaze of spectral light, showing the house—the trader who had come to sleeping room above the carriage buy corn—the up-turned face--that night when a stiffened groan wus ane swered back by a sharp ery of the hawk calling across the void. He shuddered as these disconcert- ed pictures framed themselves before his gaze. The remark of his lawyer flashed across his mind. “I never had any doubt of the re- sult.” He wondered why. Truly it was a wonderful thing—this justice. He felt the warm clasp of the lawyer's hand and glanced furtively at his own. Was there anything on it? He became" sensible of a feeling of an- tipathy toward the man who had set him free. There was something in the hearty, open, honest frankness of the lawyer that grated on him. He turned his gaze upon his wife, who met it with a serene smile, her lips half parted. “I trusted you all the time,” she whispered. There it was again. She, too. She grated on him as did the lawyer. He wished that she didn’t have so much trust in him—all of this confidence touched a cord in his nature that cried out in mocking protest. If it hadn’t set all his nerves tingling, he would have been tempted to laugh uproariously. Then suddenly his mood changed. What was the use of all this? He was free, acquitted by a jury of his peers. That was a fact. He had stood his trial—hadn’t it been fair and impartial? And here he was— ves, it was reality—riding back to his home, the stain of murder wiped from his scutcheon, privileged orce more to hold his head high. These thoughts rushed through Montresson’s brain, and with a great effort he sought to cast his burden aside. A sort of smile spread over his face. He gathered his wife in his arms and kissed her. “Thank God! Thank God!” murmured. They were nearing the house now. From the door the little ones cama rushing to meet the carriage. Be- fore he knew it he was out and they were capering about him—their kisses burning into his flesh, their merry laughter driving his tortured soul to desperation. “Bad man shut darling papa in nasty prison,” lisped the youngest. He looked down on her with an expression of great longing, and then turned as the little six-year-old scrambled to his kifee. ‘“‘Papa, tell your little daughter— you wouldn’t kill a man, would you?’ His head fell forward on his breast, and great tears coursed down his cheeks. The mother hastily gathered up her brood and dragged them from the room. And then he rose up, and with mighty strides went out by the side door and proceeded directly to the carriage house. Entering, he silently closed and barréd the door, and then mounted the stairs to the room above. He paused on the threshold and his eyes became riveted on the bed. “I was mad, mad,” he murmured fiercely. “But now I am sane. Here he fell, struck down by me. And here I ” he strode over to a dresser, and opening the hotton drawer fumbled about for a minute, The muscles of his face tightened. “Pitiful, pitiful law,” he mur- mured. ‘Blind, aimless justice. You remove the scar from a brow by driving it into the soul.” With a feverish jerk he drew a re- volver from the drawer, examined the chamber to see that the cartridges were there. He laid the muzzle of the revolver against his temple and pulled the trigger.—Boston Cultivator. — Favorite Authors. Of lawyers—Sue. Of thieves—Steele. Of the impecunious—Borrow. Of bachelors—Chambers.’ Of the young widow—Newman, Of the chiropodist—Foote. Of the telegrapher—Cable. Of the doctor—Payne and Aken- side. she Of the painter—Black, White, Gray, Green and other Hughes. Epieures go in for Crabbe and Hare. The avaricious want More. Cricket players like Fielding. The author wants his Wordsworih. The fisherman takes to Hook and Hake. And President Roosevelt to Wilde, Woods, and Traill.—Boston Tran- script. Labor On the Land. It is no good saying airily that the tilling of the fields comes naturally to all men. It certainly does not come natural to half the unemployed men to be met with in large cities, even when these men have a sincere “Please, please, Basil, don't look at me like that. You frighten me Tell me wha 8.” “What is i he repeated. Then | he shrugzed sh i his HMps parted a ile “Nohting —nothin hur- riedly. She n { 0 N18 side once more, 1€ the su- Pich12 leis i telephones desire to get work. For agricultural labor requires a large measure of training and skill, just as other spe- cialized work does.—Sheffield Tele- i graph. New York City has twice as many as London, four times as Berlin and six times as Da LdliS. CHARITIES BESET BY POOR COLLEGE MEN, Mission Workers Say Most Eme ployers Refuse Men With Higher Education. As the result of a month’s careful observation those in charge of charit- able institutions which care for the needy men of the city declared last night that a surprisingly large nums- ber of college men are among the un- employed. Further it was stated that it is very difficult to find work for such men even in minor capacities, as employers are doubtful of their use- fulness as practical men. . [ii ; More than 400 graduates or stu- dents who had not finished their courses at prominent universities and colleges were applicants at Bowery missions and East Side charitable or- ganizations during the last month for work of any kind. The employers who take men recommended to them by the missions almost invariably preferred those without a college training regardless of the physical equipment of the college men to do the work. The fact in itself that so many col- lege men are seeking work has be- come an interesting study for the so- ciologists who have to deal with them and during the last month they have been put through a course of ques- tions. Although each man has given an individual reason to show why he was seeking work, the lack of practical training was common to all the an- swers. Ambition in many cases took men away from college and sent them out in the world to seek a living for themselves. In explaining the cause of their failure to get out of college a training that would fit them to earn a living, the following reasons were given by many of the men seeking employ- ment: Too much “‘bossing’’ by instructors. Discouragement over failure tc pass examinations. Unhappy marriages which with elopements from college. Tired of the restraint of college life. Anxious to get out in the world for themselves and enjoy living on the money which they actually earned. In a few exceptional cases the ap- petite for liquor has been confessed, but most of the men who have ap- plied at the Bowery missions have been splendid examples of physical manhood. One of the men who has been a close observer of the unemployed said last night that the fact that college men were wandering in large num- bers about the East Side in search of work was due to over-production from the colleges. Years ago it was an exceptional case to find a college man at manual labor. That was be- cause there were but few college- bred men at that time.—New York American. began Deposited in Advance. A young Scotch farmer, who could not read, came into a small country city directly after an ‘‘anti-spitting™ ordinance had come into effect, and, as fate would have it, was walking directly toward the single policeman which the place boasted when the period of release for a copious amount of tobacco juice became due. The profuse squirt lighted with a splash directly in the middle of the side- walk, and the Scot was subsequently taken in charge by the copper and hustled before the police magistrate. ‘When told the nature of his of- fense he warmly protested ignorance of the law, but was informed that this did not shield him. At the ma- gistrate’s advice he pleaded guilty and was fined $5 and costs. This totalled $7.50. With painful dignity the young kiltie drew forth a wallet and ex- tracted therefrom a $10 bill, which he placed upon the desk and turned to leave the place. “Wait a moment, my friend,” called the officer. “Here is your change.” ‘Nae, mon, I winna tak’ it,” coolly replied the Scotchman. ‘I mae wiss to blaw my nase before I lea’e toun.” —Judge. Enlistment of Minors. We are indebted to George C. Holt for the copy of a decision rendered by him in the United States District Court, Southern District of New York, in the habeas corpus case of a minor, who sought for his release from the army on the plea that he enlisted without the consent of his parents. It will be observed thai the learned judge holds that recent decisions give to the military authorities the right of which they were deprived by pre- vious decisions, to punish a minor for fraudulent enlistment and hold him until he has completed any sentence imposed in his case. As Judge Holt says: ‘“‘The recruiting officers of the army ought to be freed from the nuis- ance of enlistments which may at any time be nullified.” While the decision is determined necessarily hy the law in this case, it is interesting to note the fact that Judge Holt is familiar with army conditions, he having served during the Civil War in the volunteers.—Army and Navy Journal. Airy Persiflage. Mrs. Cuppotee—‘ ‘How could a woman ever bring herself to marry an aeronaut? He's so flighty.” Mrs. Waypher—*‘Yes, and too often he lacks ballast.” Mrs. Marmalayde—' ‘Then, too, he looks down on ordinary people.” Mrs. Chillicon-Kearney — ‘““‘Angd { again, he moves in the highs; cis cles.””—Chicago Tribune. HOW THE JAPANESE USED TO TELL TIMB By UME TSUDA. oe 9 Japan's progress, not only in her army and navy, but in her knowledge of science and commerce and. West- ern arts, dates from the opening of the country to the world, the revolu- tion which restored the Emperor to his power, and the establishment of the present government, all of which has taken place within fifty years. Now the gun booms out the noon hour in Tokyo from the Imperial Observatory, and every one takes out his’ watch to look at the time, Even the students have watches, many of them of American make, and clocks are found in all the vile lages, even way up in mountain dis- tricts. » Yet less than forty years ago time was told in a very curious way. No one owned anything like a watch, and the clocks they had. were: very odd ones. Nor was time divided up into twelve hours and these into minutes. The length of the hour changed all the time, according to the season of the year. The rising and the setting of the sun were the two fixed points of time, and the periods from one to the other were divided into six hours of time, so that an hour in the winter day was short, just as it was corresponde ingly long in summer; but the short winter hours of the day were made up by the long hours of the night. One could work at an hour’s job on winter days and cheat time out of thirty minutes or more, but jit had to be made up in the summer, for an hour then was about our present two hours and a half. Only in September and in March did thc hours get even with themselves, and the sun rose as it should at six and set at six, and each Japanese hour was two of the present hours. This is the way it was counted: 12 a. m. was called the 9th hour of the morning; 2 a. m. was called the 8th hour; 4 a. m. was called the 7th hour; 6 a. m. was called the sixth hour; 8 a. m. was called the 5th houry “10 a. m. was called the 4th hour; 12 p. m. was called the 9th hour of the afternoon. And so on again, beginning again at the ninth hour, and going down to the fourth hour. Sunset and sun- rise were always the sixth hour. Now notice how odd it seems to have the hours run backward—just as they say everything is done op- posite in Japan. I asked an old gentleman why the hours went from nine backward, in- stead of from some number onward, and he said that the lessening of the hours showed that the hours of the day were getting fewer, and we should be more likely to use what remained in a better way. I also asked him why there was no first, second and third hour, and the an- swer was that the time was always made known to the people by the striking of bells. To strike one or two might not be heard or noticed, so they used only the higher numher from four to nine. Of eourse there were no clocks which would regulate themselves in this way, lengthening the day hour and shortening the night ones in summer, and acting vice versa in win- ter. Such wonderful clocks could not be made, a1. common people only listened for the bells which rang out in the castle grounds of the noblemen, where were. clustered .the homes of the retainers, or in the big city of Yedo (now Tokyo); and in the country there were fixed places where the timekeepers rang out the hour so that it was heard throughout all the streets. These watchmen pos- sessed the only clocks that existed. In a shallow box, full of ashes, was packed in long and narrow coils a substance called makko, which looks quite like fine sawdust, and is made from cedar-wood and the dried leaves of a plant. It burns with a fine fragrance like incense. This powder- like substance has the quality of burning very slowly and evenly. If lighted at one end of the long coil, it would slowly burn all day like a fuse, and would always take the same length of time to burn a certain length. The timekeeper had a measure which told him how long the day must be at each season, and the length of the coil, and he would di- vide the whole length of makko into six divisions for the six hours from sunrise to sunset. A different length was used for the night hours. Although the sun changes each day, the measure was not changed daily, but only once in fifteen days, which was quite near enough %o keep up with the real sunset and sunrise time for ordinary purposes. In some places water clocks were used, formed by the dripping oi drops of water into a vessel. When the water got to a certain height it marked the hour; but, as in the case of the fire clock, the measure for summer and winter and for day and night differed. There was, however, another way to tell time, in which time was divided up from noon till midnight into one hundred equal parts, each part being about seven of our minutes, and these again subdivided into ten. And by this method exact time could be really kept, but it was so difficult that it was known only to the learned men who kept the almanac and stud- 2 ve 2999 ied astrology and astronomy. The other way was the common one for ordinary people. — From Youth's Companion. The Dominion of Canada err a nearly 3,746,000 square miles. a Interesting Items from All Sections of the Keystone State. AUTO WRECK INJURED SIX Mahoningtown Tourists Victims of Bad Accident Near New Castle. New Castle.—Six persons were in- jured, several seriously, in an auto- mobile accident at Wampum. They are: John Brothers, Mahoningtown, se- vere bruises and contusions; Mrs. Brothers, right wrist broken, serious- ly bruised; Miss Nellie Brothers, in- jured internally, condition serious; Miss Mary Brothers, right arm brok- en; Miss Clarinda Wallace, Mahon- ingtown, cuts on face and head; Miss Bessie Wallace, face cut. Medical aid was received and the party taken care of at a hotel in Wampum until all could be taken to their homes. They had been out for the day im a large touring car and while traveling rapidly through the village on their return home the ma- chine skidded at a curve in the road and went inte a ditch, turning turtle. SCHOOL LAWS CONSIDERED New Code Being Framed by State Educational Commission. Harrisburg.—The State Education- al Commission began framing the new school laws of the state, having held eight public hearings in various parts of the state, and will spend a month preparinng its draft. This draft will be presented to Governor Stuart, who will transmit it to the legislature. A coraplete new code, doing away with many conflicts and simplifying mat- ters will be considered. The commission consists of Dr. Nathan C. Schaefer, state superinten- dent of public instruction, president; Martin G. Brumbaugh, superinten- dent of schools in Philadelphia; J. M. Coughlin, city superintendent of Wilkes-Barre; G. M. Phillips, princi- pal of the West Chester Normal school; David B. Oliver, president of the schoo] board of the North Side, Pittsburg; John S. Rilling of Erie and William Lander of Riddlesburg, Bed- ford county, BiG COAL LAND PURCHASE —— Republic Iron and Steel Company ° Cleses Important Deal. Announcement was made that the Republie Iron and Steel Company had purchased control of the Martin Coke works and Connellsville coal lands owned by the Bessemer Coke Com- pany of Pittsburg, comprising 420 acres of Connellsville coking coal, to- gether with 196 coke ovens, mine equipment, railroad tracks, houses, stores and other property. The Re- public Company already own an un- developed tract of 500 acres ad- joining the Martin coal lands. which had remained undeveloped because of the high cost of opening up the prop- erty. Pittsburg Concerns Incorporated. Dover, Del.—Articles of incorpora- tion were filed here as follows: Gieat Western Land Manufacturing Compa- ny, Pittsburg; incorporators, J. E. Johnston, John Betz, John Vohr, all of Pittsburg; capital stock, $500,000; Keystone Tube Works, Incorporated, Pittsburg; incorporators, Israel W. Bollinger, Pittsburg; Charles G. Gray and S. E. Decker, Wilmington, Del.; capital stock, $200,000. Bear Got Away. Altoona.—Thomas Wilson, a hunt- er, returned home after a thrilling experience in Brush Mountains. While taking a rest he fell asleep and awak- ing he found a bear standing over him. Bruin was equally scared and fled. Wilson recovered his self-pos- session and followed, but the bear got away. B. Frank Hall a Suicide. Philadelphia.—B. Frank Hall, a wealthy resident of St. Mary’s, Pa., and a brother of State Senator J. K. P. Hall and Judge Harry Alvin Hall, shot and killed himself in a parlor car on the Buffalo express on the Pennsylvania railroad. Theater Changes Hands, Greensburg.—The St. Clair theater here has been sold to a syndicate of local business men by the Good fam- ily. The consideration has not been made public. Kirk & Allison of the Nixon and Duquesne theater, burg, have been made managers. The St. Clair is the only large theater in Greensburg. Thirty-Six Years for Burglar. Pittsburg.—Convicted on 11 charges eof burglary, John (“Chief”) Loar, the leader of the negro gang of thugs that has loeted at least 10 residences in and around Pittsburg In the past six moaths, was sented to 36 years in the Western Penitentiary by Judge 1 John A. Evans in Criminal eourt. Cea] Tract Sold. y Pittsburg.—James Evans, president of the First Nadional Bank of Me- Keesport, sold to Josiah V. Thomp- son, president of the First National Bank {of Uniontown, Pa., 2,500 acres of coal land located in Greene county, Pa., for $500,000. A BLOOD ATONEMENT Unusual Motive for Suicide of the Japanese Woman at Easton. Faston.—An unusual motive for suicide was assigned at an inquest here in the case of Teru Utsonomia, the Japanese woman, who was found with her throat cut in the cellar at the home of Frank McKelvey. She was to have joined the church and it was asserted that she herself because she thought “blood atonement” in its literal sense was / before she could become a Pitts-' | | | Rev. Dr. Clayton S. Brooks, COAL BUSINESS IMPROVING Accumulated Sfack of Irwin Feld Go- ing Out Fast and Big Or- ders Received. Irwin.—The coal and coke trade in this field has shown marked improve- ment since the election. It is esti- mated that fully 100,000 tons of slack had been piled up during the past six months on account of mills with pat- ent stokers having been idle. This slack is now going out. The Jamison Coal & Coke Compa- ny reports all its idle. ovens have . been fired, except 150, which eannot be operated on account of shortage of water. The Keystone Coal & Coke Com- pany reports orders that insure full operations within a few days. The Penn Gas Coal Company has been running full the last week, while the Westmoreland Coal Company re- ports the receipts of large orders in the last few days. DEPOSED PASTOR ASKS $25,000 Rufus T. Cooper Sues M. E. District Superintendent for Conspiracy. Declaring he has been deprived of means of livelihood, the Rev. Rufus T. Cooper, deposed pastor of the Methodist Episcopal church at Hills» ville, has brought suit, charging con- spiracy, against the Rev. O. W. Holmes, superintendent of the dis trict; E. E. Miles and T. W. Douglas. Damages of $25,000 are asked. Cooper claims he was maliciously persecuted and that he was deposted on a charge of having been guilty of “gross and indecent” conduct at Miles’ office. » “Limited” License Refused. Washington.—When the clerk of courts was about to grant a marriage license to Fred Carnelll and Maria Dunelo, he was informed through the interpreter that the couple wanted the license for three years only. Both are married, but the wife and hus- band, respectively, still live in Italy. These latter expected to come to this country in about three years and during their absence Carnelli and the Dunelo woman wanted a limited con- tract. Refusal was prompt. P. R. R. Men Are Promoted. R. M. Durborow, superintendent of motive power with headquarters in Altoona, is to become assistant to the general manager of the Pennsylvania railroad, W. W. Atterbury, January D. M. Perrine, master mechanic of the Pennsylvania shops at Pitts- burg, is to become superintendent of motive power, the place vacated by Mr. Durborow, on the same date. Messrs Durborow and Perrine are both graduates from the Altoona shops. : Firebugs Busy Again. Philadelphia.—What the police de- clare to be the fifth incendiary lumber yard fire to occur in this city within three weeks wiped out the plant of the Improved Moulding Manufacturing Company, in the northwestern section of the city. The loss is estimated at $40,000. The Lumbermen’s ex- change of Philadelphia, as a result of numerous fires, has offereed a re- ward of $1,000 for the arrest and con- viction of a firebug. Colliery Resumes Work. Pottsville.—The Darkwater Coal Company's colliery, at Broad Moun- tain, which has been idle for a num- ber of months, will be started with a full working force. The company is working the old Reppelier operation, which was abandoned a number of years ago. By tunneling they reach- ed a 30 foot vein of coal. The col- liery is one of the largest producers in the southern anthracite field. Lenhart Trial Postponed. Washington.—The case of the Commonwealth against William IL. Lenhart, of Brownsville, charged with conspiracy to defraud the Peoples Bank of California, has been continned to the February term of court at the request of the defendant’s attorneys. Lenhart is in a serious condition as the result of injuries sustained in his cracker factory at Brownsville last week, when an arm was crushed. Uniontown,—Jesse Rice, a negro, is dead; Constable William Brown is in the hospital with six punclures in his intestines, and the latter's sen, Charles Brown, is sufferings from a wound in the right arm as a result of an attempt to arrest Rice at River- side. The negro was wanted for at- tacking a young woman. Killed by Train. Greenville. — Warren Flick, 46 years old, was instantly killed and William Freeland seriously injured when the vehicle in which they were driving was struck by a Bessemer & Lake Erie engine at the South Main street crossing at night. The vehicle was demolished and the hrose killed. ——————— New Castle.—Services in memory of Ira D. Sankey, the evangelist, who was born and reared here, were held Sunday at the First Methodist Epis- copal church, of which Mr. Sankey was a member, The services were under the auspices of the Y. M. C. A, for which Mr. Sankey erected a $40, 000 home, 18 years ago. Several of the evangelists’ most famous hymns v | Were sung by Charles C. Sankey, a killed | 1 cousin. Rev. J. Elmer Campbell, Rev. Dr. E. E. Higley, Rev. Scott Herschey, Rev. J. H. Whalen and Rev. J. S. Mar- | Un, assisted in the service. » ad I RR - PENNSYLVANIA | Ln 11 lov ing the yar
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers