a little askance at one of the lat. est additions to the roll of that . eminently respectable institu. tion. He was a short lad and strongly fonclined to roundness, and a smile of enduring dimensions brightened his ruddy face. It was the fashion to size up newcomers at Bristol with a view to ascertaining their helpfulness in up- holding the athletic glory of the school. The self-appointed committee that i looked Sammy Galpin over shook their a ds doubtfully. i ‘Play football, fresh?” “No.” “Baseball?” “No.” “Run, jump, hurdle?” “No.” “Anything you can do?” “I don't know. Never had a chance before to find out. You'll see that I'm very willing.” And he smiled around at the little group. “Perhaps he can debate,” suggested Jim Stebbius “The new boy shook his head. **No,” he said. “I don't believe I can debate. They told me I didn’t look serious »nough to be convincing.” They all laughed at this. “When you find out what you can do let us know,” said Emory Brown. “All right,” laughed Sammy. “I'll keep my eyes open and let you know * Just as soon as I find out.” The investigators looked at one an- other. There was a drawing down of mouths and a quick shrugging of shoulders. “Very well,” said Emory Brown. “We will learn it in that way.” And the investigators filed across the campus. “Did you ever see such a jelly fish?" said Jim Stebbins. “Can't get mad at him either,” added Emory Brown. Long Jack Olmsted held up his hand. “Bet you the cub has something up his sleeve,” he drawled. “Any takers?” There was a general laugh, “Have it your way, Jack,” said Em- ory Brown. “But he doesn’t look it.” “Looks don’t count,” drawled Jack. “Smartest all-round chap that ever came into this school had a face like & wooden pie plate.” “We admire your judgment too high- ly to bet with you, Jack,” said Jim Stebbins. “But get your protege to shake his sleeve as soon as possible.” They all langhed except Jack. T HE boys at Bristol school looked i | i ! i | ' “Grin away, you hyenas” he growled. “My money talks for the cub.” And he stalked away heavily. Two days later he met Sammie on the board walk back of the laboratory. “How are they coming, fresh?’ Le asked. ; . The smiling face lighted up. © “Oh, it’s Mr. Olmsted,” he said. “Pretty well, Mr, Olmsted. I can’t complain.” Long Jack stepped with him. ! “Shaken out that hidden talent yet?” “No, Mr. Olmsted.” ' “Don’t forget that it is expected of you.” . “I keep it in mind, Mr. Olmsted.” ““There’s another thing. I've offered to put up money on you. That is, I've offered to bet that you have some sort of specialty that will do you credit and the school credit. Don’t forget it.” Sammie’s smile faded. ' i “I’m sorry you did that,” he said. ~ “I know what I'm about,” growled Yong Jack. “And I'm not going to hedge. If you can’t find out what your talent is, I'll have to find out for you. Where's your room?’ “In Grace hall.” “I'll drop in on you some time and talk this thing over.” “Thank you, Mr. Olmsted.” ‘Again Sammy’s face clouded as Long Pack stalked away. The confidence the latter placed in him was highly em- barrassing. What could he do to make good? He started in at the gymnasium with a renewed zest. But, really, there was nothing to be gained by it. He was Just a fair athlete, nothing more. He played baseball with a hopeless gest. He was only a scrub. He tried the longer runs. He had the pluck and the wind, but lacked the speed. Occasionally he received a nod and an amused smile from the seniors who bad made him the memorable call. He * grinned back at them and worked away. He meant to show his willingness, even if nothing came of it. He entered the contests of the freshman class and In two events ran third. He was so round and plucky, and his face beamed with such a surplus of good nature, that he received a lively round of ap- plause as he trotted on the track. But there was more laughter than applause when he trotted off. One Gay when he was digging into his Ovid there was a light rap at the door and Long Jack lounged in. “Hullo.” “Hullo, Mr. Olmsted.” - ' Sammie sprang up. ! %This your den?” | Yes. Take the big chair.” The tall senior stared about the room. “Mother and sisters, eh?’ “Yes. They've sent me a lot of things.” “Very good taste. Best lot of sofa pillows I've seen. Must think a lot of you.” “I'm the on oy. There are four girls. Here jheir pictures.” He brought photographs from 2 ~~ senior, “Fine looking, all of them. This one, especially.” “That's Flora. She's the youngest. Ethel is generally considered the fam- ily beauty. Ethel is the one at the left. She's to be married soon. Perhaps you've heard of the man, Arthur Car- stairs?” “Eh! Carstairs? Son of the Car. stairs in the Cabinet? Fellow who did those fine things in Abyssinia?” “Yes. He's all right. We like him, although we hate to lose Ethel. The other girls are coming down in June. I want you to meet them.” “Thank you. I'll be very glad to. You're a lucky rat. I haven't any sis- ters—nor any mother, either.” “Our mother is an invalid,” said Sammie, slowly. “She hasn't walked for six years.” He paused a moment. “But nobody ever thinks of pitying her. , She has such a lovely disposition and always looks as if she enjoyed every- thing.” Long Jack laughed lazily. “I guess that's where you get your own smiling countenance,” he said. “It's something very different from mother’s,” Sammie returned. “I'm sup- posed at home to grin like a Cheshire cat.” Long Jack looked around again. “You certainly have a nicely fur- nished nest,” he said. “They don’t stint you along the expense line.” “Ol, no,” laughed Sammy. “Dad is very generous. He says money is merely a circulating medium, and the man who persistently keeps it circu- lating is the best of all citizens. Dad never forgets that he was a poor man at the beginning.” Long Jack stared at the freshman with a new interest. “Are you the son of Richard Gal- pin?” he asked. “Yes.” “You grow more interesting, my boy. But you can’t resemble your father to any marked extent.” “Not in figure, anyway—and certain- ly not in brain. It used to worry him to think I was stunted, but he's all over that now. Dad and I are very good friends.” There was a brief silence. Long Jack's restless eyes roamed about the room again. “Well, how about the hidden tal- ent?’ Sammie shook his head. “Still hidden,” he said. “But I'm going right ahead looking for it. And the search is doing me good. I never was so well and strong in all my life. My appetite is positively fierce—and I've cut down my weight by sixteen pounds. Perhaps you wouldn't think it, but I was given up as a hopeless consumptive once. That's right. They sent me out on a ranch in Arizona. I was fourteen then. Wasn't I homesick! If it hadn't been for dad I would have died. Dad sent me something every day, and every month he came way from New York to see me. Nobody knows the sacrifices he made to do it. Well, I got better, but it was awful lonesome. There wasn’t another child within a hundred miles of that spot, and the only thing that interested me was a little band of Indians that stuck up their tepees along the great ravine that ran through the ranch. I learned to ride their ponies and picked up a lot of Indian ways. I was there nearly a year, and came away as sound as a dollar.” “I see you have some Indian sugges- tions here,” remarked Long Jack. “Indian headdress, eh, and moccasins, and wampum, and a shield and a spear.” “All souvenirs of Arizona,” said Sammy. “You mustn't overlook the long bow. There, above the mantel. I whittled that out myself. It's the very best seasoned hickory, and I'm very proud of it.” He took it from its hooks and showed it to Olmsted. “Can you use it?” the latter asked. “Oh, yes. The Indian who put those decorations on the bow taught me how to use it. He was a great chap. They called him Wounded Heart.” “I'd like to see you handle it,” said Olmsted. “Would you?’ He looked around. “From the back wall of my bedroom to the wall here must be thirty-five feet.” He was tightening the cord as he spoke. “Would you mind standing here in front of the portiere with this small apple between your fingers?” He picked up an arrow and fitted it to the cord. “That’s it, thank you. You needn't fear for your fingers.” Olmsted laughed. “I don’t,” he said. Sammy walked into the bedroom. “Steady,” came his voice. There was a slight twang and the apple was shattered. “Fine!” cried Olmsted. “Good enough for vaudeville. How would you and I look doing the William Tell act?’ And he laughed merrily. “I’m sorry it isn't an accomplishment that can be practically made use of,” said Sammy. ‘But it certainly brought me a lot of enjoyment during some very lonesome hours.” “By George,” cried Olmsted, “I wish archery was a part of the Big Four field day program.” “I'm sorry, too,” said Sammy. “But, then, you can’t tell—some other fellow might be a good deal cleverer at it than me.” “I doubt it,” said Olmsted. must go. I'll see Joujagains “Glad you came,” mdrmured Sammy, And they shook hand “But I J As Long Jack strode across the came pus he encountered Emory Brown. “How’s the protege?’ called the lat | ter. “He's all right,” growled Jack. that bet is still open.” But Emory only laughed and hur ried along. It was a clear and sunny afternoon near the end of May. The campus and | the vine grown old buildings, and the | blue hills beyond, had never looked | more beautiful. | Suddenly the ery of “Fire!” rang out, | The great laboratory building, the gift | of the chief patron of the college, was | in flames. There was a confused running to and ! fro, the simple means of extinguishing | fires were sought, and then an alarm | was telephoned into town. The flames | spread fast. They started in the base. | ment and swiftly roared upward. The | building was of stone, substantially | built, with double floors and heavy par | titions that were designed to make it as fireproof as possible. But almost from the start the flames seemed be- yond control. The alarm bell could be heard from the town below. And then the fire ap- paratus began to clatter and rumble up the slope. With it came a patrol | wagon filled with policemen, and be- | hind trailed a hurrying crowd of townspeople. When the apparatus got into action | the lower floor of the huge building | was a billowing sea of flames that seemed to defy the stream that was sent against it. The great extension | ladder was set up against the six-| storied structure and up this hurried | the fire chief and several hosemen with a line of hose. The ladder Just | reached the heavy cornice of the old- | fashioned French roof. The chief | meant to fight the flames from above. And then a terrible thing happened. A sudden burst of flame directly! against the long ladder, a flame that was made more intense by the added | heat of burning chemicals. Before the | ladder could be pushed away from | the danger the mischief was done, and | the upper section, almost completely | burned off, toppled over and fell with ! a ruinous crash across the sod. At the | same moment the flames burst from a | half-dozen windows on a still higher | floor. The great crowd, roped back! by the police, uttered a sympathetic | cry. The chief and his hosemen were | in dire danger. They knew it, too. | Fifty feet away from them a puff of | white smoke suddenly shot upward. | The little group on the cornice hud- i dled together close to a huge chimney. | The hose had been wrenched away | when the ladder fell. T > erowd mur- mured in sympathy. The strongest | stream that the biggest fire steamer | could throw would not reach the un- fortunates. For a moment firemen and specta- | tors were paralyzed. To leap from that height meant instant death. No | ladder was at hand to reach them. The | smoke from the roof behind rapidly grew dense. They seemed doomed. | Then came a strange diversion. A | chubby figure came darting across the | campus, the figure of an eager eyed | student, whose face seemed aflame. His eyes brightened as he stared ahead. “Jack! Jack Olmsted!” he shouted. “Clear the way for me—let me get through!” Long Jack whirled about and under- slood. . “Make room there!” he roared, and | pushed and fought his way through the crowd and under the rope—despite the opposition of the policemen. And Sammy was close at his heels. “Have the ropes ready, Jack.” “Yes, Sammy.” The long bow was in the boy’s hands | and the end of a ball of twine was | fastened to the slender arrow. He un: railed the ball by tossing it away from him. Then he carefully fitted the arrow and drew the string taut. The crowd comprehended and was very quiet. The men on the cornice | comprehended, too, and the chief drew | a little away from the chimney. Be- hind them a fountain of flame suddenly shot through the roof. Twang! The arrow shot upward | with its trailing length of string. It | struck, the sloping slate roof close to the chief, and that official fell upon it. | Swiftly, yet carefully, he drew up the stout twine, and then a light cord, and lastly the heavy rope. And the men crouched low because of the heat of | the glowing furnace behind them. The rope was passed about the chim. ney and the men let themselves down one by one, the chief coming last of all. Half way down they came to the tall ladder that the men had waiting for them, and just as they reached the ground the roof fell in with a fright. ful crash. Long John Olmsted overtook Sammy Galpin half way across the campus. He threw his arms across the boy's shoulders. “They are all right,” he cried half- hysterically. “I—I knew you had some. thing up your sleeve. You're the hero of the year, you little runt!” And he gave the lad an affectionate hug. | “But what's the matter with you?” And he turned the boy around. “I cracked the bow,” said Sammy, ruefully.—Cleveland Plain Dealer, “And | | | | | | Duck Hunter’s Ducking. Robert Clayton, cousin of Senator Clayton and bookkeeper of the Clay- ton Lumber Company, had a narrow escape from drowning in the Platte. He and three others were duck shoot- ing along the river. layton wore rubber hip boots, and had waded into the river, which was not over eighteen inches deep. Deciding to rejoin his companions, he again started into the stream, but soon stepped intp a hole fifteen feet deep. Because of his heavy clothes andl ammunition belt he im- mediately sank. His companions went to his rescue and with difficulty pulled ! him out,—Denver Republican, THE RESTLESS BROOK, Do you suppose the babbling brook Would stop and rest its head If sorae one got a scoop and took The pebbles from its bed? ~John Kendrick Bangs, in St. Nicholas, INVISIBLE MONKEYS. A naturalist notes in East Africa the discovery of what he calls “invisible monkeys.” The body is covered with black fur which contrasts brilliantly with the snow-white shoulder cape of long, silky hair and the white-plumed tail. This contrast serves to render the animal practically invisible, de- clares The Classmate, for the trees that they inhabit have black stems and are draped with pendant masses of gray-white lichen, amid which the monkeys hardly can be distinguished. CAT IN THE HOLE. The Scotch game called “cat in the hole,” old as it is, is capable of afford- ing some good sport yet. Six shallow holes are dug, rather nearer than the bases in baseball, and arranged so as to torm a diamond. In the centre stands a boy with a ball in his hand. At each hole is a boy with a stick, one end of which he rests in the hole he is guarding. When the boy with the ball sings out, “Cat in the hole,” all the other boys change holes. As they do so the boy with the ball tries to throw it into one of the holes before any boy gets his stick into it. If the succeeds, the boy who is slow in changing, and finds the ball in the hole before his stick, is out. He then has to take the ball himself. THE FLITTERMICE. All winter long the flittermice hung, heads downward, in their gloomy caves. When the spring sun beat on the roofs, it told them to wake up, fly out, and enjoy life once more. One big fellow went along above the brook chasing gnats. How he darted, this way and that! What a quantity of the tiny insects it took to satisfy this fellow after his five months’ fast, says Margaret W. Leighton, in Holiday Magazine. Mrs. Flittermouse is 2 mode! mother, never leaving home without carrying all her children with her. “Now hook on,” she says, when she is ready to go in search of her breakfast. This she does at about cur supper-time, for her day begins when the first stars begin to twinkle in the sky. The little baby bats fasten their thumb hooks tightly into their moth- er’s fur, and away she darts. READING WITH THOUGHT. Did you ever try to give a careful de- scription of the appearance of some ob- ject very familiar to you, such, for in- stance, as your own front door or gate- way, or the pattern upon some favorite article of dress?. Try the experiment. ! Unless you are unusually observing you will be surprised to see how hazy is your mental picture. This exper- ience proves that we look without see- ing, and it is to be feared that many of us read without thinking. As an exam- ple, some of you may have heard a | verse of a not obscure song in which a young man is represented as entering an inhabited place upon the back of a small horse, as inserting a plume in his headgear and giving it the name of “Macaroni.” For those to whom the i verse is unfamiliar it may be said that the young man’s name is “Yankee Doo- dle.” If you have read the stanza, is it fair to ask if you know what “Mac- aroni” means? It is not a merely non- sensical rhyming word.—St. Nicholas. FOR THE Boys, be ‘industrious. The world wants earnest workers. God never in- tended for any one to be idle. The more work you do the sweeter will be your sleep and brighter and happier your holidays. Take off your coat and make a dust in the world. But we would not repress your buoyant spirits or shut you out from all that is glad and happy in this beautiful world. We would like to pass an ordirance for each neighborhood to have a large play- ground, where the boys enjoy a holi- day. We would have it just as pleas- ant as it could be made, shaded by love- ly trees, plenty of soft grass to tumble on and singing birds overhead. This will be so much nicer for our boys than loitering on street corners... We would have the old-fashioned games our grandfathers played and all modern improvements for developing the mus- cles. But, listen, boys, we would not have any pastime you would blush for your parents or sisters to witness, such as scorch and wither every high axzd noble aspiration, degrade the soul a_d prepare the way for many of the sins that now corrupt society. We would BOYS. i not have that lovely spot desecrated by an oath. SECRET OF PAINTER'S SKILL. Half a dozen houses in one neighbor- hood are being freshly painted this spring, and all by the same painter, a quite young man, whose thoroughness and skilfulness has passed into a pro- verb in the town. “We can't afford not to have him dc the work,’ one houseliolder had said. “He is absolutely careful in every de- tail. and he knows his trade perfectly— all the little niceties of it.” One merning a boy was watching the painter at work, and envying him what seem such an easy job—‘just brushing on some paint,” he told him- self. He thought—did that boy—of a certain slow, “peky” task of his own, and impatiently wished he could do some simple work like that palnter’s. “How long does it take to learn that trade?” he inquired, complacently. . For the Younger Children.. “Well,” said the busy young painter, ,a8 he drew his brush along a particu larly difficult place, “they say one can learn it in three years, but I've been at it seven years now, and I don't know what I ought to know about it yet. There's still lots to learn.” The painter's own-deal of work was always just beyond his own achieve ment. In that lay the secret of his thoroughness, his skill, his success. It is such interest and ambition in one's work that makes patience easy to keep. The man who “knows it all” in three years is not the man for whom the owners of half a dozen houses will wait their turn to have him paint them.— Ram's Horn, A CAMPHOR ENGINE. Here is a very interesting and amus- ing experiment. Procure a large cork and eut from the top a circular piece about one-quarter inch in thickness, Now cut the remaining piece up into four squares or oblongs of the same thickness and size. Next obtain four large needles and stick these four pieces of cork on to them, and then, in their turn, stick them all on to the circular piece of cork as shown in the illustration. Now gum or glue to one side of each of the four pieces of cork a small piece of camphor; each piece musi be the same weight. Place them in position on the cork as shown. If this is now laid on the surface of a bowl full of water it will begin to spin round and round for several hours without stop- ping. If small figures, such as those of a lady and gentleman dancing, are now traced upon stiff but light weight paper and then cut out and attached upright to the centrepiece of cork, some very lifelike movements can be produced, which will last sometimes for a day or more continuously. A great deal of amusement can be extracted from this unique camphor marine engine, provided it is made rizht—and that means exact weights and sizes of corks, camphor pieces and needles, as explained above. The best results are obtained by the aid of a fine pair of weighing c-ales, and the druggist you may buy the cam- phor from will cut aud weigh the re- quired pieces for the asking. The cam- phor will not cost more than a cent or two.—Good Literature. A HERO. Some pathetic incidents fall under the notice of officers o” city courts. Out in Denver, one day early in November, a fifteen-year-old boy, Hector Miles, was brought into the Denver court. He had been working in a picture store at $5 a week delivering pictures. Acci- dentally he broke r frame. The pro- prietors insisted that he pay them sev- enty-five cents. The boy refused, say- ing that he needed the money to live on, whereupon his empioyers gave him a severe beating. ‘I'he sequel was that the two employers were brought into court along with the boy. The boy told his story, from which it appeared that he was sending $4 out of his $5 weekly wages to his sick mother in a country town in Colorado, and with the remain- ing $1 was managing to rent a garret room and find enough to eat. A bystander, hearing the story, took the boy to the office of the Mayor and repeated to the latter the story he had heard from the boy's lips. The Mayor then said to Hector: “I am proud, young man, to shake your hand. Write to your sick mother that your hard times are over. I want you to come out and live with me. I am only a Mayor, but you are a hero.” The Mayor then gave Miles the job of tak- ing care of his new team of black thor- oughbreds, and promised that later on the boy should be sent to school.— Ram's Horn. SOME RIDDLES, NEW AND OLD. Which is swifter, heat or cold? Heat, because you can catch cold. Why does a Russian soldier wear brass buttons on his coat, and an Aus- trian wear steel ones? To keep his coat buttoned. What is the difference between an old cent and a new dime? Nine cents. When is a bee a great nuisance? When it is a humbug. What is the difference between a hill and a pill? One is hard to get up, the other is hard to get down. Why is a lazy deg like a hill? Be- cause he is a slow pup (slope up). A man and goose once went up in a balloon together, the balloon burst and they landed on a church steeple. How did the man get down? Plucked the goose. A man had twenty-six (twenty sick) sheep and one died, how many re- mained? Nineteen. What is the oldest table in the world? The multiplication table. Why is a professional thief very com- fortable? Because he usually takes things so easy. ; Why is A like a honeysuckle? Be- cause a B follows it.—Children’'s Maga. zine. - tsseerrsastsssre reese erry Side of loife. | AFBBESFFIFEFIFIFFIIIOING THE NEW OFFICE BOY. | Me's a modest little curly headed fellow, | Whoge age is scarcely greater than eleven, The effulgence of his locks of tawny yellow Is suggestive of a halo born. of Heaven. { We were smitten with his most uncommon | beauty | And we deemed him far too perfect for this earth, When he modestly reported here for duty, All unconscious of his transcendental worth, 0! the sweetness of his early morning reeting . In those first few days! How soft his As he handed me my letters in the morn- boyish tone! ng, With “A lovely day! Good morning, r. Jones. Ah! the period of all things that grow en- dearing Is as fleeting as the dew upon the grass! We have felt it; the misfortune we were fearing From the very first has come at length to pass, For our office boy has left us; we are lonely, He is merely now a memory of the past. He was with us but a fleeting fortnight only, : And has vanished, for he was too good to last. We could tolerate hiscigarettes and novels, And his whistiing which was constant, loud and shri 1 But I drew the line when he remarked this morning: “Gee! Yer Jooking on de hog dis morn- ing, Bill! —Catholic Standard and Times. HE WASN'T DIPLOMATIC. He—“And am I the first man whq ever loved you, darling?” She—*“Sir, you are insulting.”—Chis cago News. JUST LIKE A MAN. Bleeker—“If you are troubled wi the toothache so often I'd think yo! would consult a dentist.” Meeker—“I did call on one the othey day and I certainly experienced greaf relief.” Bleeker—“Did he pull the tooth?” Meeker—*“No; he wasn’t in.””—Chiéa¢ go News. HIS TURN NOW. Archie Feathertop—*“Miss Dora, hat your father ever said anything aboul me?” Dora Hope—“He hasn't mentioned your name, but I heard him asking mamma the other day who that youn fellow was that had been os around here lately, and—and whethel she thought he had any object in com: ing.”’—Chicago Tribune. DOUBTFUL REASSURANCE. The Giraffe—*“Come on in, Monk; it’s only up to my neck!” TURNING OF THE WORM. “Women will yet assert their super lor gifts in conducting the practical affairs of life,” said Mr. Meekton’d wife. “Well,” he replied, “let ’em. The sooner they go down-town to a hot, ir ritating office and let me climb into a kimono and read summer novels the better I'll be pleased.” — Washingto! Star. . NECESSARY TO HIM. “What with croup, measles and all that,” remarked Popley, “children are a great care, but they're blessings.” “Indeed they are,” cordially agreed the stranger. “I don’t know how we should get along without them.” “Ah! you are a family man yours self?” “No; a physician.”—Catholic Stand ard and Times. PROGRESSIVE LOVE. He—*Love is like a trunk.” { She—“How?” He—*“There's always some one rea to express it.” 4 She—*“Is that the only similitude?”’| He—“As far as I know. Do you sed any other?” She—*“Yes; if it isn't checked it is apt to go too far. Good night, sir.,”— Boston Transcript. BECAUSE. “But I don’t love you,” objected the young woman. “Then, why,” howled the indignant youth, referring hastily to divers mem: oranda in his pocket diary, ‘did you eat a total of sixty-five boxes of choco« lates I bought you during the past year if you didn’t love me?” “Because,” she said with a rapt ex: pression on her lovely features, “I de love chocolate.”—Tit-Bits. VIEWS OF EMINENT REFORMER. Correspondent—*‘‘Senator, do you be- lieve in limiting the size of individual fortunes?” Senator Lotsmun—*“Yes, sir, I do. 1 believe that when a man has accumu- lated—well, say, twenty or twenty-five millions, he ought to be compelled te give all he makes above that to thq campaign fund of whatever political party he happens to belong to. That will be the quickest way to get it ba into circulation again—particularly, o course, as to the small bills, of avhich there is always the greater sparcity.”- Chicago Tribune, J Pe RA ox a CA cans od BOR a rr i ET es nr nnn Alfor veins Bourb« straigl 987) © line of culmin and he long Ii Louis, the Pt includi In his wise r monste every Philip Jane, I all sug tenden this ar line. strikin marks of the the Ha ure of has gi pride + ancestc busines did no the fur monar fonso of a d Mor “Rai to hav moral official two p1 drunk Denisor The pri hotel n differen mornin; arrests Monday spector street « jon hat being time in that I prisone said Ins attache o years. At th convent answer ports w fous st: Star st specinie ped ouf dent vo the gre white living— over th There ment fo from th distinct: “Sen —We ne zine. The 1 ships ei capture has bee istry of a sum t An o office r¢ dicamen that off a letter paused containi the wor eign.” is a pre mestic, | a foreig I'm goin three | Weekly,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers