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.