' jff TW ( i reat 'Sompositi; Jlouel.
' :j M THE J° INT WORK OF
''aSpHBlSL' W. H.Ballou, Ella Whooler Wilcox,
' Ma j' Alfrod c - Calhoun,
"\>H Alan Dale, Howe &• Hummel,
Nell Nelson, Mary Eastlake,
P. T. Barnum. Bill Nye.
Synopsis of Previous Chapters.
Chapter I—By W. H. JJallou.—Henry Hen
shall, a young artist, while truveling in a parlor
ear, mentally sketches the personnel of his
ideal wife. To his astonishment lie sees his
ideal reliected in the mirror, she being one of a
paily of four, consisting of an old man, pre
sumably her futher, a governess and a man
with a villainous countenance. He makes a
sketch of the party. He determines to make
her acquaintance, but upon arising in the
morning finds that the train lias been in the
depot some hours, and that the party of lour
has disappeared.
Chapter 2 Uy Ella Wheeler Wilcox.—Mr.
Crawford, his daughter Edna* Miss brown, a
governess, and Or. Watson occupy a llat on
West Thirty-eighth street. Their names are
all assumed to hide some secret. Edna tells
her father that she hates Dr. Watson and
objects to his presence in the house, but Mr.
Crawford insisrs that the doctor's presence is
necessary to him. Watson possesses hypnotic
influence over Edna, and is leagued witti Miss
brown in a secret compact. A month later
Henshall recognizes Watson at a hypnotic ex
hibition. lly means of the sketch inude in the
ear a detective locates the doctor, but upon
calling Hnds the party lias moved. The same
day a strange woman called seeking a Dr.
Ilciishaw, and leaves muttering tlirouts against
Dr. Watson or Henshuw.
III.—A MIXING OF PICKLES.
By Moj. ALFRED 0, OALHOUN. Illus
trated by T. A. FITZGERALD.
[Copyright. All rights reserved.]
Ilenry Henshall was iu despair.
In vain ho tried to banish tho shadowy
ideal from his heart by a greater devo
tion to his art. Whether ho worked at
a landscape of . a marine sceno tho face
of tho beautiful girl he had seen on the
cars would appear in tho foliage or rise
from tho waters like another Undine.
A hundred times ho would turn away
from tho canvas, thinking by force of
will to dispel the torturing illusion, but
as it was the creation of his own brush
it would not vanish.
One afternoon he dashed his palette
and brushes on tho studio floor, and,
springing to his feet, called out in a
voice of agony:
"Merciful powers! Am I never again
to paint anything but that face? Can I
never again think of anything but that
face?"
As if in reply to his question a quick
double rap sounded on the door behind
him, and in response to his nervous
"Come in" Tom Wogly, his own private
detective, stood beforo him, his faco as
impassive as a tobacconist's Indian.
"Any news, Twnt"
"Any news, Tom?" cried the desperate
young man, and he looked as if an im.
mediate homicide would follow a reply
in the negative.
But Tom Wogly showed no alarm.
Shaking out the crown of his soft felt
hat ho looked carefully inside, as if try
ing to discover how he had lost the lin
ing, and then answered with that doublo
antiquity for which ancient oracles and
modern detectives are alike celebrated:
"Well, sir, there ain't nothin' as you
might call downright startling to report.
I ain't got what I'd call a reg'lar straight
tip on the gal, but 1 kinder think I'm
onter the heavy villain gent, jidgin' en
tirely by tho face in tho pictur'. If yon
drored that faco right, why"
"Where did you soo him?" interrupted
Ilenry Henshall, and ho picked up his hat
to bo ready to dash out when ho got the
Information.
"It was last night, sir, a talkin' to a
mysterious woman, whoso face was hid
by a veil. Them two was right under
Lafyot's stater, on Union square, and
the woman acted as if her dander was
np and she didn't care who knowed it;
and the man he tried to soothe her and
set her an example of street etiquette by
talkin' low.
"Well, I sneaked ronnd to see what I
could hear, but the man got onto my
little game, and hurried to a cab that
was standin' near, and as ho drove off
ho called out, 'l'll see you, Louise, somo
hour to-morrow night;' then I tried to
talk to tho veiled lady, hut she threatened
to call the police. I ajKilogized, and she
started off at a go-as-you-please gait
that would have won first money at a
walking match if sho could keep it up.
"I shadowed her to Second avenne,
near Seventeenth street, where she van
ished into an every day kind of boarding
houße. That's the report, sir, and if you
could let me have another fifty to hire
a side partner, for I've got to have one
or die for the want of sleep, why, I'll
credit you with it when the job's over,
which I hope'll be very soon."
After this long speech Tom Wogly
coughed into hiß hat until the crown
threatened to burst, and Henry Henshall
handed him five ten dollar bills.
The young man was about to question
the detective further when a heavy step
was heard outside; then the door opened
without any preliminary knock, and a
handsome old gentleman, with a troubled
face, entered and said:
"Harrv, my son, I mast see yon alone
at once.
Tho detective jammed the money into
his pocket and his hot on his head, and
vanished with a curt "Good day, gents!"
"What is the matter, father? You
look troubled," said Henry, as he placed
a chair for his unexpected visitor.
"Then I look as I feel," replied Mr.
Henshall, with a groan that came from
his heart. "On tho top of tho failure of
Higgins & Lewis, onr western agents, 1
this morning learned that my cashier
has been faithless. He fled to Canada
on Saturday, and a liurriod anamination
of his books shows that he has robbed
me of at least $200,000."
"But you are rated at a million; snre
ly you can weathor tho storm," said
Henry, hope rather than reason prompt
ing his words.
"If you were a business man, as 1
wanted you to be," said Mr. Henshall
impatiently, "you would know that a
man's rating by an agency is never an
evidence of the cash he can command."
Then, rising from his chair, he laid his
hands on his sou's shoulders, looked
eagerly Into his eyes and added, "Harry,
you can save me if you will!"
"I, father?" and behind the old gentle
man Henry Henshall saw the Undine
faco peering at him from tho pictured
water on the easel.
"Yes, you, Harry. Sit down and when
I have told you all 1 am suro you will
fall In with my purpose, for I have beon
to you a good father, and I feel that you
will be to me a dutiful son."
Henry sat down, and, taking a chair
facing him, his father went on to explain
his troubles.
"I am In the power of one man," he
said, "and hy a scratch of his pen he can
ruin or save me."
"Who is that?" asked Henry.
"Edward Hartman."
"The banker?"
"Yes, Edward Hartinan, Lena Hart
man's father. Harry, yon and Lena
played together as children, and Mr.
Hartman and I—we were neighbors and
good friends in thoso days—often laugh
ingly sjioko of the marriage of yon and
Lena. From that time to this she has
loved you. Sho is an only child and hor
father is worth $0,000,000.
"If you will call on her at once I may
get time to think, and if you ask her to
marry you it wiJJ save me and your
mother from an old age of poverty, and
in the end you will bless the day that
you took my advice."
Mr. Henshall hold out his trembling
hands appoalingly, and Henry, who sat
with his back to the picture, took them
and said impulsively:
"I would give my life gladly to savo
you from trouble, father, so I will do as
you request; though it will bo unjust to
Lena Hartman to offer her my hand
when I cannot give her my heart."
Rejoicing much at his sou's obedience
Mr. Henshall left the studio.
Then Henry turned to tho easel, and
more distinctly than it had yet appeared
he saw tho beautiful, mysterious faco
looking up appealingly from tho water.
He contrasted this exquisite ideal with
the real Lena Hartman, the art child
that haunted him sleeping and waking,
with the large, full faced and stupidly
good naturod banker's daughter.
Henry Henshull's mind wus certainly
In an unusual state of perturbation, but
It was placidity itself compared with the
condition of his unknown idol.
The sudden disappearance of Mr.
Crawford and his family from No. 8—
West Thirty-eighth street was at tho
suggestion of Dr. Watson, whoso keen
ears and sharp eyes were quick to dis
cover the hourly increasing curiosity of
their neighbors in the apartment house,
and it was Dr. Watson who secured the
new and more soclnded quarters on
Kowenhnven placo, near Sixty-seventh
street and Central park.
Being retired, well furnished aud on
the ground floor, the now apartments
were proferablo to tho old ones, and
Miss Brown, the governess, who of late
had shown a coquettish interest in Mr.
Crawford, declared to Edna that it was
"a perfect little paradise of a home."
To Edna Crawford, who seemed to
have lost Interest in life, it mattered not
where she was or whiter she went, so
that tho place offered her a refngo from
the haunting eyes of Dr. Watson.
To avoid meeting this man at table
she feigned sickness and had her meals
served in her room; but the very means
used to avoid him brought him into her
presence with an eager tender of his pro
fessional services.
When he was out of sight she loathed
him; when he was near, witil his strange
eyes burning into her face, or his fingers
pressing her pulse, while he pretended
to look at his watch, she was as power
less to resist as a bird under the fascina
tion of a snake.
. Fortunately, the doctor was now away
the greutor part of every day, and Edna
would take advantage of his absence to
comfort herself with the magic violin.
She shunned her father, l>ecause ho was
forever sounding the praises of the doc
tor; and, for the same reason, she avoided
Miss Brown as much as possible, though
that lndy's increasing devotion to Mr.
Crawford did not escape her notice.
One evening after supi>or she heard
Dr. Watson saying to her father in the
hall, "I expect to seo a party from the
west to-night, and if there is anything
of imnortance to communicate I'll wake
you up on iny return after 12."
To this Mr. Crawford replied in a
nervous voice: "If there is not a cer
tainty of arranging the terms, so as to
prevent publicity, we must sail for Eu
ropo on Saturday. I feel as if I could
not hold up much longer under the
strain."
After the doctor had gouo out Mr.
Crawford came into his daughter's room,
and, to his great delight, she was less
excitable and more demonstrative in her
affection than usual.
After an hour's talk she kissed him
good night, saying that she felt weary
and would lie down, and requesting him
to tell Miss Brown that she need not see
her again till morning.
As soon as her father had gone out
Edna quickly placed her violin and sev
eral rolls of music in the case, then hur
riedly put all her jewelry and a chango
of clothing into a little valise and low
ered the light.
She waited for an hour after Miss
Brown had gone to bed in the adjoining
room, then quickly put on a street dress,
and carrying the valise and violin case
left tho house as noiselessly as a shadow.
Looking neither to the right nor left
Bho made her way to the Third Avenue
Elevated road and took a car bound
south.
She got out at Fulton street, utterly
ignorant of her whereabouts, and quite
as uncertain as to her destination, but to
her great joy sho saw a respectable look
ing hotel near the station, and this she
entered with a confidence of manner that
in no way indicated her feelings.
Sho wrote her name on a blank card
"Miss Louisa Neville," and asked tho
waiter who appeared in the purler to
have her registered and a room unsigned
her.
She had $32 in cash, besides her jew
els, and this, so she thought, would en
able her to live till she could find a
place for the exercise of her talents.
Although not hungry, Edna Crawford
went down to the dining room tho fol
lowing morning, and wliilo waiting for
her coffee she looked over a paper that
lay on the table.
It was a copy of that morning'B
World, and a glance at the "want" col
umns decided her as to what she should
do next.
After tho merest apology for a break
fast Bhe put a veil over her hat and
hurried to Tho World office, on Park
row. Bhe was about to write out an
advertisement, applying for the position
of governess, when a handsome, middle
agod man, with a refined German face,
raised his hat and said, as ho handed
her a slip of paper:
"Blease to ogsknse me, inees, but 1
am not suro if mine is goot English, is
dot spelled ride?"
With a flnslied face and trembling
hands Edna read the following:
WANTED—lmmediately, a young lady who can
ploy violin solos in a European concert company.
Apply In person aud with own instrument to
Herr Kurl Stein met z, No. 8 Union square, New
York.
rv—ONE PURPOSE AND TWO ENDS.
By ALAN DALE, Illustrated by WAL
TER H. M'DOUGALL.
[Copyright. All righto reserved.]
Lena Hartman, the banker's daughter,
was one of those matter of fact maidens
who seem to have been created as a use
ful foil to the sentimental gushfulness
of the romantic damsel.
Miss Hartman was more than deli
cately plump. Her appearance suggest
ed an intense regard for meals. Like
the German fraulein, who is not at all
disinclined to talk love over a steaming
dish of Frankfurter sausages, supple
mented by sauerkraut, Miss Hartman
was eminently healthy.
As for her amiability, it was simply
without limit. Miss Hartman was im
pervious to the petty worries of lift?.
One of her friends always declared that
nothing less than an earthquake would
ever cause her the least agitation.
Henry Henshall called upon this portly
xnaidon in due time, and her appearance
filled him with a vague affright.
His artistic instincts told him at once
that ho need nover oxpect from her either
sympathy or even interest in his plans
and his aspirations.
But his promise to his father d welt in
his mind sacredly intact. He would bo a
martyr aud he must feel some consolation
in that. Most men do.
It is well to reflect that one is a martyr,
even though too late to bo included in
Fox's book.
The face of his unknown ideal blotted
from his mind the large, immobile feat
ures of Miss Hartman the instant ho left
her, and he felt that as a reward for his
sacrifice he could at least indulge in tho
luxury of thinking of tills strangely mot,
strangely lost woman.
Lena Hartman was motherless,and had
recently engaged as companion a woman
whom Henshall regarded with undefined
mistrust. Sho was a light haired, blue
eyed woman, who years ago must have
been extremely handsome, hut her feat
ures were now livid with care. Her
movements were furtive aud catlike, and
she seemed to regard the life she was
living as unreal.
"What induced you to engage her,
Lena?" asked Henshall one day, with tho
priviloge of a newly made fiancee. He
had glided into this position in such an
unutterably commonplace manner that
the chains so easily forged were hardly
galling.
"Because sho interests me," declared
Miss Hartman. "I feel that she has a
history. You always tell mo, Harry,
that I am the most unromautic being on
earth. I know it. I can, however, ap
preciate romance in others, though I am
aware that you think even that impossi
ble."
Mr. Henshall sighed. He wondered
stupidly if Lena would feel interested in
his own brief, pointless romance.
Ho dimly saw the jealous demon rap
ping for admittance at the smooth doors
of Miss Hnrtmnn's placidity. He saw
the baffled retreat of this demon. Ho
declined to admit even the possibility of
Miss Hartman's jealoftsy.
His acquaintance with women was
very slight. He imagined that the pas
sionless affection evinced for him by his
promised wife v/iIM one of those airy
trifles, the presence or absence of which
was but of slight significance to the wel
fare of the woman.
One morning Mr. llenshall called at
Mr. Hartman's house, more with tho ob
ject of "reporting for duty," as ho styled
it in mental irony, than with any well
defined object in view.
Mr. and Miss Hartman were out, he
was informed. Mrs. Smith, the chaperon,
was at present the only member of the
family now at home. She was in the
drawing room, ventured the domestic,
discreetly.
Heushall never knew afterward what
it was that prompted him to enter in
stead of leaving tho conventional card
to indicate his unsatisfied visit.
no told tho servant lie would stay for
a time and wait the arrival of the father
and daughter. Then leaving his hat and
cane in the hall he walked to tho door
of the drawing room, and with a slight,
premonitory knock entered.
The room was unlighted save by a
full, red shaded lamp that east a pink
effulgence on objects in its immediate
neighborhood,
Tho young man saw seated on a low
chair close to the lamp the apathetic
form of Mrs. Smith, the chaperon. She
hod not heard his knock and remained
seated, her hands folded listlessly in
front of her, her head bent slightly for
ward, until the sound of his light foot
fall reached her ear. Then with a start
she rose and placed her hand upon the
region of her heart.
"You alarmed me, Mr. Henshall," she
declared, with an attempt at a smile
that was a signal failure. "I did not
expect anybody, because Mr. Hartman
and Lena have gone out. Let me see,"
hesitatingly. "I think they went to a
reception at Mrs. Van Aukon's house on
tho avenue. Did—you—wish"
"Nothing," interrupted the young man
with a reassuring smile. "I thought 1
would coirne in for a few minutes and
rest myself."
The absence of Miss Hartman was by
no means regrettable. In fact Mr. Hen
shall felt a distinct relief at tho respite
from bald platitudes that her visit on
the avenue afforded him.
He looked at Mrs. Smith's face. She
had evidently been weeping. Ho had
undoubtedly i nterrnpted a painful medi
tation.
Well, ho reflected, she ought to thank
him for that at any rate. That she was not
inclined to express any gratitude either
by words or by looks was very apparent.
It was clear that she did not consider
herself bound to entertain Miss Hart
man's guest.
After a few uninteresting remarks, ut
tered uninterestingly, she rose and an
nounced her intention of retiring to her
room.
"I leave you," she said, "provided
with a couple of readable books, and am
sure that you will find them capital en
tertainers. Of course you will wait to
see Lena and Mr. Hartman. I know it
would be a great disappointment to you
if you failed to meet them."
She accompanied these with a faint,
significant smile that was irritatingly
visible to Mr. Henshall. lie colored
slightly, and bit the end of his mus
tacho to restrain the rather impatient
retort that rose to his lips.
Mrs. Smith moved noiselessly about
There was the same felino suggestions
about her walk that he had noticed be
fore.
"Good night," she said indifferently.
As she passed him something fell at
his feet He saw it there before him,
but made no effort to pick it up for a
few seconds. Then ho stooped and raised
it from the floor. It was an old fash
ioned gold brooch, one of those trinkets
that we have seen our grandmothers and
great-aunts wear, and have admired in
the days of our childhood.
At the back of the brooch was a por
trait, beautifully colored, standing out
conspicuously from the dull gold frame.
As he looked at it Henry Henshall was
conscious of a mental shock such as ho
had rarely received. The picture con
jured up a whole train of reminiscences
that for the last few weeks ho had hardly
ventured to disturb; for in the startling
eyes and uncanny expression of tho pho
tographed face he had no difficulty in
recognizing the man whom he had scon
in tho Wagner palace car, and whom he
had mentally dubbed the heavy villain
of the episode.
In an instant he was on his feet; his
hand was upon the bell; his intention
was instantly to send a servant to Mrs.
Smith, summoning her to liis presence.
Ho was spared the trouble. Tho door
was noiselessly opened and the lady her
self entered the room.
"I dropped my brooch," she said apolo
getically. "No, do not trouble," she
added as he made a movement. "I
think I know where to find it."
Tho young man's heart was beating
violently. He wanted to tell her that he
had picked it up, but was unable to find
tho words.
He held it up and tried to speak. In
an instant she had snatched it from his
hand.
lie held it up and tried to itpcalt.
"I would not lose it for the world,"
she said.
MijUry Henshall struggled with his
emotion for a moment and overcame it.
"You know that man?' l.e asked
harshly.
She looked at him for a moment, then
burst into a loud, unmusical laugh.
"If I know that man? Ha! ha! ha!
Do I know him? Ah, it is too good? Ha!
ha! ha!"
She sat down and laughed hysterical
ly, he looking at her in mute amazement.
Suddenly she seemed to secure control
of herself. Her laughter ceased. The
expression on her face became one of un
easiness. She advanced quietly to Hen
shall and said, with an indifference
which was unconvincing even to the
young man:
"Do you know him?"
Ho answered at once: "I do not know
him. I wish I did, for I believe he is
a—a"
He paused in embarrassment.
"Go on," she said.
"I was going to say," he resumed,
"that I believe he is a villain."
"You are right," she suid deliberately,
fixing her blue eyes on Henshall's whito
face. "He is a villain, and it is his wifo
that says so."
Henshall recoiled. Intense surprise
momentarily bewildered him: then came,
liko a ray of sunshino, tho knowledge
that here was a clew to tho recovery of
his ideal. Not a thought of Lena ifart
man entered his mind to thwart his plans.
"You know his wife?" ho asked.
Again she laughed mirthlessly. "I am
tho woman unfortunate enough to bear
that relation to him," sho said. Then in
alarm: "Mr. Henshall, I do not wish to
acquaint you with my past lifo. You
havo come into possession of a secret
through no fault of mine. I beg of yon
not to betray my confidence."
Her evident sincerity overcame his an
imosity to tho woman.
"Mrs. Smith," he said, "your secret is
safe. Tell me, I implore of you, as much
about this man as you conscientiously
can. To show you how much in earnest
I am I will tell yon my reasons for asking
this."
He then related to her tho story of his
journey in the Wagner palace car, omit
ting no detail likely to interest her.
He then told her (and strange to say,
he really believed it himself) that his
object was to find tho girl, although en
gaged to Miss Hartman. Ho would bo
perfectly loyal to Lena, but he felt that
he could not go through lifo without hav
ing met his ideal, if only to speak with
her briefly, to study her beauty for one
hour.
Ho must see her. He would perhaps
forgot her if liis curiosity wero satisfied.
Ah I how easy it is to "talk one's self
in," as tho saying is. What a delightful
thing an eased conscience!
Mrs. Smith was a woman of the world,
and sho understood tho complexion of
tho case' far more thoroughly than did
yonng Heushall. Bat apparently it
served her purpose to gratify him.
"Do you know the names of the peo
ple with whom you saw him!" sho nskt d.
"Crawford," he answered.
"Did you learn that they stopped at
No. B—West Thirty-eighth street?"
"Yes," in intense surprise, "I called
there."
"So did I," she said quietly, "but tho
bird had flown."
"Havo yon any idea who tho Craw
fords were?' It was his turn to question.
"None at all," she ropliod bitterly. "I
neod hardly say that Watson is not my
husband's name. Ho has assumed many
aliases, bnt the name to which he was
born is Leopardi. He is an Italian by
birth. Ho has called himself Rimaldi,
Duval, Sehimmerlein, Henshaw and
Watson, as far as 1 can remember. 1
met him two years ago. I knew him as
Dr. Henshaw, tho mind reader.
"Hypnotism was a subject in which i
was deeply interested. I attended all the
lectures on the subject that I could pos
sibly find. 1 mot Dr. Henshaw at his
house. I was rich. I had money and
jewels.
"How it came about I can never thor
oughly understand, but wo wero mar
ried. Two months later he left me pen
niless. I waited for his return, and wait
ed in vain. A child was born to me.
Thank goodness it died. I took this
position temporarily. I live for revenge,
and," fiercely, "I will havo it."
Gravo fears for the Bafoty of his ideal
surged up forcefully in tlio bosom of
Henry Henshall as he listened to this
story. That she was in danger wus
now very evident. His mind was made
up.
"A man and a woman, both in earnest,
and working together in unison, ought
to bo able to accomplish a great deal. I
want to find this man for chivalry's
sake," he said, again furnishing excuses
to himself. "You want to find him as a
wronged woman. Shall we join forces?"
She hesitated for one momeut Then
her mind was made up.
"Willingly," she said.
[TO UK CONTINI'HII.J
A Millionaire'* Small Wage*.
"How much do you mako a day, my
lad?" asked ex-Commissioner O. B. Pot
ter of the newsboy from whom he was
waiting to receive change.
"About fifty cents," the boy answered.
"That's just twice as much as I could
cam when I was 18 years old," said the
millionaire. "I might have been a rich
man now if I had only had the start that
you are getting."—New York Times.
In the Way.
Engineer—That drug store has got to
bo moved back from the railroad track.
Director—What's tho matter with it?
Engineer—l forgot about it's being
there last night, and when I saw that
red light in the window I thought it was
a danger signal, and I stayed hero for
one blessed hour before I remembered.—
Harper's Bazar.
In Pari*.
Mine. Prudhom—Wliat is this Tariff
Bill in America we read so much about
now in France?
Mr. Prudhom (with superiority)—
Madam, lam surprised! It is of coursi
the kinsman of Buffalo Bill, whom v
lately saw among us with so much j
pleasure. —Epoch.
s
i ■■■■■■* nw i' in m v l l ■jev-'Wrim nrnsi wionaMMH
What is
Castoria is Dr. Samuel Pitcher's prescription for Infants
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I DR. G. C. OSGOOD, H. A. ARCHER, M. D.,
> Lowell, Mass. 11l So. Oxford St., Brooklyn, N. Y.
1 " Castoria is the best remedy for dhildren of " Our physicians in tho children's depart
which lam acquainted. I hope tho day is not ment have spoken highly of their experi
-1 far distant when mothers will consider the real euco in their outside practice with Castoria,
interest of their children, and use Castoria in- and although wo only have among our
stead of the variousquack nostrums which are medical supplies what is known as regular
destroying their loved ones, by forcing opium, products, yet we are free to confess that tho
morphine, soothing syrup and other hurtful merits of Castoria has won us to look with
{ agents down their throats, thereby sending favor upon it."
them to premature graves." UNITED HOSPITAL AND DISPENSARY,
DR. J. F. KINCIIKLOE, Boston,
Conway, Ark. ALLEN C. SMITH, Pre*., *
The Centaur Company, T7 Murray Street, New York City,
II I IPi I li" 111 il" IT ' "II IHI ill IHI W IHIMMIMMIMM——
; fD CLEARING SALtI
; I Four Days Only.
| To Make Room for Fall Goods, j
"We will close our entire stock "j
of Oxford, ties out a,t cost. j
L GEQ chestnut ' 93 centre st " freeland - j
' WHIT TO WEAR I ~~
WHERE 10 SET IT!
1 wo important questions that trouble young men, old
men, big boys and little boys. We will answer your
queries most satisfactorily. Wo have ready-made
clothing to suit men and hoys—all styles and all sizes,
and everything is just from the manufacturer—as new
as new can be. Our stock of gents' furnishing goods—
including collars, cuffs and a handsome line of neck
wear—is certainly worth examining. Then we have
BOOTS, SHOES, HATS, CAPS, ETC.,
in sucli great varieties that no man need leave our es
tablishment without a perfect fit. We can rig a man
out from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet
' in such fine style that liis friends will he astonished,
and the man will also be astonished at the low cost of
I anything and everything he will buy of
: JOHN SMITH, bib,!ECK SN,
HORSEMEN
ALL KNOW THAT
Wise's Harness Store
Is still here and doing busi-
I ness on the same old principle
of good goods and low prices.
%. j "I wish I had one."
HOUSE :COQDS.,
Blankets, Buffalo Robes, Har
ness, and in fact every
thing needed by
Horsemen.
Good workmanship and low
prices is my motto.
GEO. WISE,
IJeddo, and No. 35 Centre St.
BMB RAILROAD SYSTEM.
W-s , LEHIGH VALLEY
DIVISION.
I [£ A It HANU EM ENT OF
J JT PASSENGER TRAINS.
• ' MAY 15, 1892.
LEAVE FREELAND.
i!JS, H. 45, 0.40, 10.35 A. M., 12.25, 1.50, 2.43, 3.50
.i •, d.35, T.mi, 8.47 p. M., tor Drifton, Jedilo!
Dumber 5 urd, .Stockton and Ha/.lcton.
o.L, 0.40 A. M., l.iiO, O.iiO I®. M., for Mauch
< tuik, Allentown. Dethlchcm, Philn., Huston
n' w York ) ,rk " (8,45 I,HS UH coll,loc "on for
i Y*'i\A' Nl, l " 1 ' Easton and Phila
delphia.
7.X 10.M A. M 12.1t5, 4 ;wi P. M. (via Highland
l.i.ouh) lor VNInU' llaven, Glen Summit,
" 'T l v! , ' , ; ( ' 1 1 i . , I ts, 1 0, l n, . ul il - 11,1,1 "• •'■motion,
o.i j A. M. tor Itluck Uidge and Toinhioken.
SUNDAY TRAINS.
11.10 A. M. and 3.45 I®. M. r or Drifton, Jcddo.
laiuiiter i ard and lla/leton.
M. for Delano. Maliunny ('itv, Slicn
aiuloali, New York and Philadelphia.
ARRIVE AT FREELAND.
•Vrt), 0.15, 10.50 A. M„ 12.10, 1.15,2.33,
I. ' .V. and 5.37 P. M. from Huzlcton, Stock
ton, Dumber Yard, .Icdilo and Drifton.
7.20, 0.15, 10.50 A. M., 12.10,2.33, 4.30 0..50 P. M.
from Delano, Maliauoy City and Shenandoah
(via New Huston Hraneh).
1.1.5 and 5.37 P. M. from New York, Easton,
Philadelphia. liethleheui, Allentown and
Mauch Chunk.
0.1.5 and 10.50 A. M. from Easton, Philadel
phia. Ilethlehem ami Mauch Chunk.
0.15, 10.35 A. M., 2.43, 0.35 P. M. from White
Haven, (Hen Summit; Wilkes-Harro, Pittston
and L. and 11. Junction (via Hlghluud llranch).
SUNDAY TRAINS.
II.:!! A. M. mill 3.:n P. M. l'rom Htizleton,
Dumber 5 aid, .leildo and Drifton.
11.31 A M. Irom Delano, Huzlcton, Philadel
phia and Easton.
3.31 I'. 51. hum Pottsvllle and Delano.
For further information Inquire of Ticket
Agents.
I. A. BWEIGAIID, Gen. Mgr.
C. G. HANCOCK, Gen. Pass. Agt.
A. W. NONNKMACHEU. A.CT"-
South Ilethlehem, J®#,