WAS HE A MURDERER I have always been a zealous student of physiognomy and have an irresistible habit of studying faces that I encounter in public. On one occasion at least this taculty has led ine into a serious pre dicament. The incident occurred on one of the railways between London ajnd west of England. As soon as I had conveniently disposed of my belongings in a compartment and wrapped myself in my rug, I proceeded leisurely to take a survey of my fellow travelers—a young man and a girl ap parently traveling together. The style of the young man did not please me. He looked "horsy." His attire was a great deal too "loud" for my taste, and on his little finger he wore a diamond ring—most probably a sham diamond, I decided. He was not ugly, but obtrusively big and strong looking, and I saw at once that he was in a very bad temper. The girl, 011 the contrary, pleased me extremely; she was exceedingly pretty, and she was daintily dressed and ex quisitely refined looking. I was struck by the fact that she seemed to share my objection to her companion, for she avoided his attempts to catch her eye, keeping her face carefully averted from him, and when he spoke to her she an swered in monosyllables, without look ing around. I noticed also that her pretty, childish face bore signs of re cent weeping and that now and then her blue eyes filled with tears. I even fancied that sho cast plaintive glances in my direction, as though unconsciously seeking for help and succor. With my usual quick sympathy I | soon felt deeply interested in the lovely, ' innocent looking young creature, who was apparently in the power of the mo rose scoundrel beside her, and I began to consider what means I should adopt to make her understand that I compre- | hended her sorrow and desired to help j her. No better idea suggested itself j than to offer her my copy of Punch, i which 1 did with a deferential bow and a look which I flattered myself would reveal my sentiments toward her. I have always been told that I have a most expressive countenance. She declined the paper, but her eyes met mine with an eloquent look, and I felt that I had established an under standing between us. Then a brilliant idea occurred to me. I could not talk to the girl right under the eyes of the scowling villain beside her, but if I feigned sleep he might be thrown off his guard and disclose the situation to me. I forthwith gave sev eral portentous yawns; then leaning back in my corner I spread a handker chief over my face so as to conceal my features, but not to prevent me from see ing my companions, and after a little while commenced to snore. By and by the ruse seemed successful, j The young man, after several unavailing attempts to gain the girl's attention, took j hold of the tiny gloved hand which had been lying listlessly in her lap, and as I she still continued to look the other way | suddenly bent his head and kissed it. ] "How dare you?" she cried, hastily | drawing away her hand, while she ! turned and faced him. "How dare you i touch me, even when you know—you j know"— A flood of tears made the rest I of the sentence inaudible. The man looked at the girl with a half | remorseful, half impatient expression. "Come, Evelyn," he said after a pause, | "crying won't do any good. Forgive j and forget," and he attempted to put his arm around her waist. "Forgiving won't bring back to life," she cried passionately, shaking herself free, "and as to forgetting, I never, | never shall. How could you have the j heart? He never harmed you!" "No," replied the young man, with an unpleasant smile, "and he won't have the opportunity now." "You never cared for him," sobbed the girl; "you never had a kind word for him I" "But I tell you it was in self de fense" "And I tell you that 1 don't believe it," exclaimed the girl. "He never would ' have harmed us, and you—you never | gave him even a chance for his life." | And she hid her face in her hands and sobbed convulsively. By this time I was becoming almost 1 apoplectic from horror. There was biU. I one interpretation to be put upon the ■ conversation. The man before me—how true had been my first impressions of him I—had caused the death of a fellow I creature, and the pretty fair haired girl, ! by her very loathing and repugnance, I was perhaps recklessly risking a similar fate. My blood curdled at the thought, j but by a strong effort I repressed my feelings and continued to strain my ears ! to the utmost, and to snore as naturally as was possible with every nerve quiver- ! ing from terror. "Evelyn," said the man, evidently try- j ing to bo conciliatory, and as he spoke, ' forcibly drawing the girl's hands from her face—"Evelyn, surely you and I need not quarrel about the affair? I as sure you I acted for the best. He would undoubtedly have proved dangerous to us both." "Oh," cried Evelyn, looking at him with flushed, tear stained face and flash ing eyes, "then, if you fancied that I was going to prove dangerous to you, should 1, too, fall u victim to poison?" As the terrible words passed her lips the engine gave a shrill whistle and the train rushed into a tunnel, the noise rendering a reply impossible. I would have given a good deal for a glimpse of the man's face at that moment, but there were 110 lights in the carriages. When, after a few seconds, which seemed to me so many hours, we emerged into the sunlight agaiu, I per ceived with a sigh of relief that the man had seemingly subsided into his former state of morose sullenness. He leaned back in his seat with his arms folded and stared absently out of the window, taking no further notice of his companion, who gradually ceased cry ing and began to cast furtive glances at him, as if apprehensive that she had gone too far. Twenty minutes later we ran into a station and the train stopped. Mutter ing that he wanted a paper, the young man sprang out of the carriage and walked quickly toward the bookstall My opportunity had come. Throwing aside my hankerchief 1 arose and leaned toward the girl, who started violently and then shrank timidly back. "Don't be alarmed, my poor child," I said quickly, laying my hand reassur ingly upon her shoulder; "you have a friend close at hand. I will not .leave you till I have seen you to a place of safety. I know all; I have heard all," I added in explanation, for her expression was one of mingled terror and bewilder ment. "You may rely upon me im plicitly." At this instant I saw our enemy ap proaching and moved hastily back to my seat, trying to look as though I had merely been .awakened from my slum bers by the stoppage. As the train started again I subsided with sundry yawns into my former attitude. I noticed that the girl gazed at me with a startled, perplexed expression, and I feared that the poor child's im prudence would attract the attention of her companion, i longed to make her a sign to be more cautious, but thought it better not to do so, and was consider ably relieved when the young man un folded his newspaper and became appar ently absorbed in its contents. Presently, to my amazement and hor ror, I saw the girl suddenly lay her hand upon the man's arm, put her lips close to his ear and proceed, as I felt certain, to inform him of my discovery and offer of assistance. The man, after listening to her with a look of blank incredulity, turned and glanced at me with the most vindictive malignity in his eyes. I could not hear the words with which he ap parently reassured the girl; but one painfully significant sentence reached me—"l'll soon make short work of him!" Here was a pleasing situation! I knew that the train would not stop for nearly an hour, and in the meantime I was shut in with and practically helpless in the hands of a cold blooded murderer, who, knowing me to be in possession of his secret, was scarcely likely to let me escape. The girl, in spite of her tears and protestations, was evidently com pletely under his influence and could not be relied on to aid me with even her feeble strength. For a moment I contemplated a des perate leap from the carriage, but the prospect of almost certain death was too appalling. Then I thought of the com municator, but the railway authorities, with a fiue perception of the fitness of things, had placed this last resource of the desperate outside and above the window of the carriage. Suddenly an idea flashed through my mind. In a few minutes we should enter another short tunnel, and it was just possible that under cover of the noise and darkness I might succeed in grasping the cord communicating with the engine driver or the guard. Putting my arm stealthily out of the window I pulled the cord with desper ate force, sinking back into my seat just as we emerged from the tunnel, and then, with a thrill of intense relief, I felt the train begin to slacken speed and gradually come to a standstill. The next moment the guard made his ap pearance, looking wildly round the com partment for signs of bloodshed or violence. "Mr. Murray!" he exclaimed, touch ing his cap deferently to my enemy. "Was it you who stopped the train, sir?" "No," 1 gasped, half choking with fear and anger, "it was I! That man is a murderer, who has escaped justice, and 110 has threatened me with violence-! My life is not safe, nor is that young lady's," I added, pointing to the girl,who was gazing at me with well feigned as tonishment. "Lor' bless you, sir," cried the guard, with a broad grin, "there must be some mistake! That's Mr. Murray and his good lady. Mr. Murray is one of our directors." "What has that to do with it?" I al most shrieked. "What if he were fifty directors? I tell you the man is a mur derer and has threatened my life! Fetch a policeman!" "Benson," cried the young man before the guard could answer, "put that old lunatic into another carriage. He has already been annoying my wife with his idiotic impertinence. He's evidently either intoxicated or as mad as a hatter!" "Certainly, sir," responded the guard obsequiously. "Come, sir,"—to me. in a coaxing tone which nearly maddened me—"come into the next carriage. 1 can't keep the train waiting any longer, you know, and you can explain it all tc the inspector when we stop. Yes—quite so, sir. We knows all about it; wequite understands how it 'apponed." And be fore I had realized the situation I found myself half dragged, half lifted into an empty compartment, and at the mock ing suggestion of my enemy the door locked upon me. Did I get any justice or satisfaction: Not in the least. The circumstances were "investigated," with the result that my would be assailant got off scot free, while I was fined five pounds for stopping the train without reasonable cause. He and his wife had the audacity to declare that the conversation I had overheard referred to a little spaniel be longing to the lady, which, having been bitten by a mad dog, had beon poisoned by her husband against her wishes. In vain I pointed out the improbability of the story, and explained that my sus picions were based 011 the unerring evi dence of physiognomy. The wretches took refuge in the unphilosopliical con clusion that I must be "a little cracked,'* a statement which my enemies did not fail to supplement with the suggestion that I must have been more than a little "screwed." Such are the gross miscon ceptions into which a coarse nature and uncultivated intelligence can betray the unscientific. Posterity, as Napoleon Bonaparte remarked, will do me jus tice.—New York Recorder. THE WOES OF WOMEN MANAGERS. They Are Overrun auil Re4t with Ap plication* for Places. Mrs. Ives, the secretary of the wom an's board of managers, lias recently had an interview with several of the women managers on duty at Chicago, and relates the following tale of their woes. Said she: "The ladies in the rooms of the woman's board in Chicago would find great relief and many good women would be spared disappointment could the fact be made clear to the pub lic that there are absolutely no vacancies for appointment in that division of the exposition. Much valuable time is at present unavoidably wasted in reading and replying to applications for positions which do not exist. Each communica tion is attentively received, replied to and filed, and the amount of unnecessary labor thereby imposed is past compre hension to those who have not ob served it. "A large number of the-applicants de sire appointments as guides, which are to be supplied visitors to the exposition by the lady managers, and almost with out exception the writers inquire con cerning the salary which will be paid. The woman's board has repeatedly replied that 110 regular salary will at tach to the place, explaining that the guides must look to those who engage their services for remuneration. This has been announced fur and wide, but the applications and inquiries continue to arrive. "One source of much inconvenience has been an erroneous statement made by some ignorant or mis. liievous person to the effect that the lady managers hud offered a large prize for an ode. This has been traveling the rounds of the national press, and the consequence is a deluge of poetry which continues un abated. It is certainly harmless enough per se, but the situation becomes serious when each poem is to be examined, ac knowledged—and necessarily declined regardless of its merits. Communica tions of the kind mentioned are annoy ing because they ask what is impossible. "But those of another discription are ineffably pathetic, portraying with un conscious vividness the necessities of women breadwinners. For example, while possibly only two, and at most not more than four, matrons can be em ployed for the woman's dormitory the applications for these positions already number a hundred, many of them being accompanied by a powerful indorse ment."—Albany Letter. KiigliHhmen and Their Wive*. Irishmen are more sympathetic, more ! true to their wives, and in my opinion ! we should hear less of unloved and uu i lovely marriages, less of the divorce ! courts, if Englishmen showed more sym pathy and interest in their wives. Wo men need more—and I speak from a woman's standpoint of view—than the conventional husband, who judges his wife from the care she bestows upon bis household and liis children. We need some one we can lean upon, and if a wife wishes to welcome her husband with a bright, smiling face, knowing she lias nothing to hide, nothing to feai and nothing to conceal, she can only do so in the "perfect love" which "eastetli out fear." Irish women are far more virtuous thau their English sisters as a rule, and I believe it is in the main because there is more oneness between them and their husbands. Those little attentions, those little words of love are not lacking in an Irishman which are so dear to every woman's heart, and more particularly so when she is tired and harassed with household cares; and these words, so often withheld, would soften a wife's monotonous duties and help to make English homes ideal homes.—Florence Nightingale in London Telegraph. National Suffragist*' Candidate*. In the parlors of the Willard hotel Wednesday, under the call of April 26 a national convention of woman suffra gists was held, under the direction of delegates from Victoria leagues of the different states. Mrs. Anna M. Parker, of St. Louis, was called to the chair, and Elizabeth Powers, of Providence, acted as secretary. Twenty-eight states were represented by fifty delegates. On motion of Mrs. Windish, of New York city, Mrs. Victoria Woodhull-Mar tin, of New York, was nominated i for president of the United States, and J Mrs. Mary L. Stowe, of California, was nominated for vice president. The plat- i form reads as follows: Whereas, Under the fourteenth amendment no citizen is deprived of the franchise through | law, but by custom and habit; therefore, be it ; Resolved, That we, the representative | women of America, ask the officers rn charge j of the election precincts through the United ; States in the coming campaign to give us the I opportunity to cast our ballots on the first ! Tuesday in November, 1888, for our candidates. Resolved, That by the united efforts of the j women voters of this nation we will drive anarchy, crime, insanity, and drunkenness j from our midst by our humanitarian efforts, backed by the ballot. —Washington Letter. Kfleet of Physical Training. At the majority of women's colleges systematic physical training is obliga- ! tory. Each student is measured, a chart drawn defining physical deviations from accepted normal development and exer- \ cises are prescribed to counteract exist- j ing defects. From time to time meas- ' uremeats are made and a record kept ; showing the progress achieved. Records j of 100 cases at the Baltimore college this : year reveal a chest development of from ! one to five inches. The effect of this scientific hygienic training, the presi- | dents of these colleges assert, is strik ingly apparent in the condition of the ! girls at the completion of the four years j in comparison with their physique 011 , entering college.—Exchange. Women at Tuff* College. From six to eight young women will avail themselves of the privilege granted to them by Tuft's college this year. Four rooms are to be given to them for study rooms and a reading parlor. They will be admitted with all the rights of men, have the same instructors and sit with the men in the classrooms. ' Mine. Roosevelt's Personality. Mine. Blanche Roosevelt has an inter esting personality, as this little sketch of her career shows: Her first volume was a sketch of her self as a singer. To this succeeded a volume concerning Longfellow, whose "Masque of Pandora" she brought out in Boston as an opera with music by Alfred Cellier. The failure of the opera gave in teresting glimpses of the amiability of the poet's character, which the Singer and writer disclosed in her book. Her next volume was a snmptnons life of Gustave Dore, for which the artist's family fur nished materials, supplementing the writer's acquaintance with Dore, Mine. Roosevelt occupies a unique position in the artistic world of Paris. Her failure as a singer she frankly avowed, and with muling courage she took up her pen. Her beauty of face, remarkable in its regular, sculptured delicacy, united to a lively imagination and unusual fluency of speech in Italian and French, as well as in English, lias made her a welcome guest in many circles. She was petted by Victor Hugo, on terms of sarcasm and repartee with Arseno Iloussaye, rapturously adoring and ardored of Verdi—of whose "Requiem," when it was brought out at Milan, she wrote descriptively of its influence, "I wallced home afterward in a state of comatose." There have long been rumors of a drama to ho written in collaboration with Sardon. The manifest result, however, is the volume just brought out, "Vic torien Sardon; A Personal Study." She is the first American authoress to be decorated by the French academy, of which she is an officer, and quoting from the gallant M. Honssaye, "She is lovely with every loveliness; her profile one that might have been designed by Apelles or Xeuxis." The Pretty Girls Preferred. The Boston Transcript publishes the complaint of a plain typewriter who was dismissed in favor of a pretty girl. "This girl," she says, "was not taken 011 because she could write faster than 1 could. No, the whole truth of it was the office is an outer office, with people coming in often, and she made a pleus anter piece of furniture to have in the room. She could look up and smile sweetly when anybody asked her to turn off a couple of dozen lines for them. Now I was just as willing to turn off an extra letter, but I couldn't look up and smile. People with straight sandy hair and spectacles, and a broad mouth and crooked teeth are not thanked for too much smiling in this world. "Then there was another woman, a friend of mine. She weighed nearly 190, and when the weather was warm she used to look pretty red. She kept accounts, and her mind just flew over the figures, and her columns always bal anced. But that didn't make any differ ence. Along in July, when the weather was tlio hottest, she had to go. Now there's no doubt in my mind that the only reason was because she didn't look cool. The girl they got was just ont of a Latin school, and the other girls had to help her add two and two, but slie could wear sprigged linen frocks and site was slender." Why Sli® Is a I'ollticiuii. The Countess of Aberdeen lias written a paper for ail English magazine in which she tells why she is a politician. She says in substance that it is a mys tery to her how any woman can think it anything else but Iter plain duty to in terest herself in politics. Site further remarks: "I think we may say that we shall find that the objections proceed principally from two sources—a very partial idea of what a woman's life should be, and a low estimate of poli tics. But we believe that there are grand principles which may, and which should inspire the government of til" people, by the people, for the people, and we believe implicitly in their power when properly applied to reform and en noble and uplift. "Any of us who know anything of the lives of the poor know how the so cial questions which we discuss hack ward and forward nre living, pressing realities to them. Questions about edu cation, labor, the sweating system, li censing, the housing of the poor, the workhouse system, are all sternly real to them, and especially so to the women, and they are affecting them day by day. We must so believe in our politics that we shall both believe and act as if it must deal with these questions." Two Baring Swimmers. Two New London Lizzie Goodwin and Miss Nettie Allen—aston ished the town the other morning by swimming the Thames river. Both aro expert and graceful swimmers. They plunged into the broad Btrenin on its Groton side, directly beneath New Lou don's drawbridge, the largest in the world, came swiftly across it, a distance of a quarter of a mile, and landed at the western abutment. They had a Leander along with them, and though he is a strong swimmer lie readied the abutment behind the girls. The Thames river at the place where the girls crossed it is by no means as wide as the Hellespont; still its current is strong and deep, and the two fair swimmers have no doubt they could equal Byron's famous performance. They were not at all wearied by their feat.—New London (Conn.) Letter. I Princes* Murie of Bdinburgli. Of course all princesses are beautiful, as all princes are brave and handsome, j by courtesy, but Princess Marie of Edin- f burgh, the betrothed of Prince Ferdi- i nand, is really a beautiful and clever girl, quite capable of holding her own j even in the troublesome little kingdom of Routnania, and already very much ; admired and beloved by the queen of i Roumania, who so warmly espoused the | cause of the English princess' deposed I rival. Brides' Presents. How the pickle forks, sirup jugs ami butter knives used to be showered ou brides! Now the newly wedded woman gathers in tea bells and souvenir poonA —Food. FOR LITTLE FOLKS. Children'. World's Fair I'alace. The enjoyment of the Columbian ex position is not to bo confined to per sons of mature years. Juvenile tastes are also to lie considered, and the risinf generation will not be forgotten in pro viding amusement and entertainment. A recent proposition is one to erect a special building for children. This build ing would be furnished with playrooms and other features, enabling the young to enjoy themselves. Herewith is given an illustration of one of the plans submitted for the chil dren's palace. A Thoughtful Boy. Kenniboy is sometimes very thought ful of other people's comfort, although sometimes he is not. He has one very bad habit, his papa says, which is wak ing up at half past 5 o'clock or earlier every morning, and insisting upon mak ing remarks. His papa is usually the one to whom these remarks are made, and of course listening to what Kenni boy has to say makes it necessary for him to wake up and brush the cobwebs off his wits. Once or twice Kenniboy has been scolded for interfering in this way with other people's sleep. He lias been told that lie may talk all he pleases, but that it must always bo in a whisper, so that his papa and mamma shall not be disturbed. Having this lesson in mind, one morn ing, about two weeks ago, Kenniboy, having waked at the usual early hour, was rather curious to know just how early it was. Leaning over his papa's ear, he whispered softly into it, "Papa, what time is it?" So soft wus the whisper that papa never seemed to hear it, but slept peace fully on, and so Kenniboy tried it again. "Papa, look at your watch and tell me what time it is, please," he whispered. This time papa was awakened. "Oh, dear, Kenniboy," he said, rub bing his eyes sleepily, "I'll never grow beautiful if you wake lookup out of my beauty sleep this way every morning." "I didn't mean to wake you up," said the boy. "But you were talking in my ear," re turned papa. "How could yon expect to do that without waking me?" "I wasn't talkin. I was on'y whis periu," said Kenniboy. "I wanted you to tell me what time it is, and I whis pered so's you could tell ine without wakiu up!"— Harper's Young People. A Boy and His Mother. I waa passing a house the other day on one of our residence streets when the door suddenly opened and a boy rushed out —hatless and doubled up with laugh ter—followed by a matronly looking woman wielding a broomstick. She was also laughing, but on seeing a stranger passing she retreated into the house. What struck mo in this little domestic episode was the genial good nature on the faces of mother and son—for such they evidently were—and the casual glimpse I caught of the interior showed me that it was a home rather than a house. I imagined that the boy had been playing some pranks and that his mother had good humoredly retaliated, but it was the expression in their faces that told the story, and I thought a boy cannot go far wrong who has his mother for a chum.—Detroit Free Press. Before Your By en. A recent biographer of Carlyle states that when he was writing bis history of the French revolution it was his habit to paste on a screen in his workroom en graved portraits or woodcuts, if no bet ter could be had, of the people about whom he was writing. The image of the man was thus steadily in his view. Carlyle held that an author must have a clear image of his subject in his mind; otherwise he could not make it clear to the reader. Here is a significant hint to school boys and girls who are expected to ex press their ideas in compositions or es says.—Youth's Companion. Before Bash l.ie. Down. Two little three-year-old twins had as a playfellow a pointer dog whose habit it was, as is customary with many dogs, to turn around several times before lying down. The twins watched this per formance with interest and then run ning into the house said, "Mamma, Dash says, 'King around a posie' and then he lays down."—Exchange. Just Look Here. When I went to the country, Ou that very day I put all my school books So careful away. I piled them all neatly. My very own self, In the closet up stairs. On the very top shelf. They were nil in good order. And now Just look hero At this holo In the page Of my Prlmerl Oh, ilearl And I ain so 'ticlar To keep my books nlcel I 'Bpose that it must have Been done by the mice. ' I CASTOR I A for Infants and Children. "Gaotorla is so well adapted to children that I recommend itaa superior to any prescription known to me." H. A. ARCHER. M. D., 11l So. Oxford St., Brooklyn, N. Y. "The use of 'Castoria' is so universal and its merits so well known that it seems a work of supererogation to endorse it. Few are the intelligent families who do not keep Castoria within easy reach." CARLOS MARTYN, D. D., New York City. Late Pastor Bloomingdale Reformed Church. THE CENTAUR COMPANY, 77 MURRAY STREET, NEW YORE. NINETEEN -YEARS- EXPERTENCE lii T^eatliei*. Our stock is bound to go. There is nothing like slim figures to put it in motion. We have laid in a very large stock of seasonable goods. WE BOUGHT CHEAP—WE SELL CHEAP. A lot of goods turned quick at close margin is good enough for-us. Now is the time to buy A No. 1 Goods None Better on Earth At Very Close to Manufacturing Prices. We do business to live. We live to do business, and the way to do it is to offer the very best grade of goods at prices that will make them jump. An extra large line of ladies' and gents' underwear just arrived. Call and see us. Thanking you for past favors, we remain, yours truly, Geo. Chestnut, 93 Centre Street, Freeland. YOU WILL FIND US AT THE TOP In the Clothing Line, With more fresh styles, low priced attractions and ser viceable goods than ever. The big chance and the best chance to buy your fall clothing is now offered. Our enormous stock of seasonable styles is open and now ready. Such qualities and such prices have never before been offered in Freeland. A thoroughly first-class stock, combining quality and elegance with prices strictly fair. Come in at once and see the latest styles and most serviceable goods of the season in MEN'S, BOYS' AND CHILDREN'S CLOTHING, HATS, CAPS AND FURNISHING GOODS. The newest ideas, the best goods made, the greatest 1 variety and the fairest figures. Everybody is delighted with our display of goods and you will be. Special bar gains in overcoats. Remember, we stand at the top in style, quality and variety. JOHN SMITH, birkbeck f b R r E'E C L K AN D . H. M. BRISLIN. UNDE|RTAKEB, AND HORSEMEN ALL KNOW THAT Wise's Harness Store Is still here and doing busi ness on the same old principle of good goods and low prices. | " I wish I had one." HORSE : GOODS. I Blankets, Buffalo Robes, Har ness, and in fact every thing needed by Horsemen. Good workmanship and low [ prices is my motto. GEO. WISE, Jeddo, and No. 35 Centre St. ; i Advertise 111 the Tribune. Castoria cures Colic, Constipation, Sour Stomach, Diarrhcea. Eructation, Kills Worms, gives sleep, and promotes di gestion. Without injurious medication. 41 For several years I have recommended your 4 Castoria, 1 ami shall always continue to do so as it has invariably produced beneficial results." EDWIN F. PARDEE, M. D., " The Winthrop," 125 th Street and 7th Ave., New York City. GO TO Fisher Bros. Uvery Stable { FOR FIRST-CLASS TURNOUTS At Short Notice, for Weddings, Parties and ■ Funeralß. Front Street, two squares below Freeland Opera House. 1 HEW MUM SYSTEM. ' 7 LEHIGH VALLEY V IYJFO/ DIVISION. OF PASSENGER TRAINS. ' MAY 15, 181)2. LEAVE FREELAND. i 0.15, 8.45, 0.40, 10.85 A. M., 12.25, 1.50, 2.4.1, 8.50. 5.15, OJfci, 7.U0, 8.47 P. M., for Dril'ton, Jed do,' liittnlicr ) ard, Stockton and Hazleton. i.l , i'.4t) A. M., 1.50, 3.50 p. M., for Maueh (hunk, A lion tow ii, Bethlehem, Phlla., Easton n |Ml ~l ' w , ol biis no connection for Now \ ork.) 8.45 A. M. for Bethlehem, Easton and Phila delphia. iJ3/• , 4 ; 38 P - M - fvin Highland \vn2oi n i>V. H yen, Olen Summit, Wilkes-Burro, 1 ittston and L. and B. Junction. O.lu A. M. for Black Ridge and Toiuhickcu. SUNDAY TRAINS. r "J? A *v f - ? nd ?•# p - M - lor Drifton, Jeddo, Lumber ard and Hazleton. ! 3.40 P. M. for Delano. Mahnnoy City, Shen andoah, New \ ork and Philadelphia. * ARRIVE AT FREELAND. ! ;5.50, 0.52, 7.28. 0.15, 10.50 A. M., 12.10,1.15,2.33, 4..19, 0.50 and 8.37 P. M. from Ha/loton, Stock ton, Lumber Yard, Jeddo and Drifton. i .20, 9.15, 1U.58 A. M., 12.10, 2.33, 4.30, 0.56 P. M. 1 lrom Delano, Malmnoy City and Shenandouh (via New Ronton Brunch). 1.15 and 5.37 P. M. from New York, Easton, Philadelphia. Bethlehem, Allentown and Munch Chunk. I 9.15 and 10.50 A. M. from Easton, Pliiladel j pliiu, Rcthlchein and Matich Chunk. I 9.15, 10.35 A. M., 2.43, 0.35 P. M. from White Haven, (lien Summit, Wilkes-Barre, l'ittaton and L. and B. Junction (via Highland Branch). SUNDAY TRAINS. 11.31 A, M. and 3.31 P. M. from Hazleton, : Lumber ard, Jeddo and Drilton. j A ;,f I,om Delano, Hazleton, Philadel- I pluu and Easton. j 3.31 P. M. from Pottsville arul Delano. | For turther information inquire of Ticket ! Agents. j I. A. BWEIGAKD, Gen. Mgr. j 0. G. HANCOCK, Gen. Pass. Agt. Philadelphia, Pa. A. W. NONNEMACHEH, ASS'TG. P. A., South Bethlehem, Pa.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers