DREAMS
O spirit of peace,
JSoothe my senses to sleep.
my soul in sweet reverie steal back to the
past.
To the castles of youth in that dear land of
dream.
Where the ghosts of dead loves are so real
that they seem
hike the gold leaves of autumn preserved from
the blast!
Phantom of fancy.
Dream wings lend my soul
To float softly away to those deep shadow delie.
And blend with the beauty of memory's
bright stream
That silently sings in that dear land of dream
Like the remembered music of long silent bells!
I) land of the past.
Where the soft echoes linger
And the music of memory with sweet rapture
thrills
The heart like the fragrance of the flowers,
or a kiss
That gladdens a life with fond thoughts of
its bliss-
Ob, the soul is a song burst—the whole world it
fills!
Ah, me! Dear dreams.
You are naught but shadows
Still wrapped in the silence of Time's silver
years;
Like the mirth of the May time you cheer
with your smiles;
\our gifts, those bright witch fires of fancy,
beguiles
This old world of fact with its roses and
tears.
Fitzgerald Murphy in Memphis Commercial.
FRONTIER JUSTICE.
Fiddlers was excited, not that there
was anything extraordinary in that, for
the Flat was in a normal condition of ex
citement over one thing or another every
hour in the day and vented it in much
drinking, loud talking and fighting, but
on this particular occasion the excite
ment was of a unique order, that in its
still intensity chilled and silenced the
mob of men that crowded in and close
about the doors of the Mary's Eyes
saloon and gambling house, the pro
prietor of which, Velvet Jack, was at
that moment being tried for his life be
fore that most terrible of earthly courts,
Judge Lynch.
It was not the first killing at the Flat.
This shooting scrape was only one of
dozens of others during the five months
of Fiddlers' existence, but the victim
was a peculiarly inoffensive creature
known as "Mud" to the camp. He hail
110 other name that they knew of, and
had earned his sobriquet by his unfail
ing ill luck at the gaming tables, and
his equally unfailing remark as he rose
penniless from his bout with the tiger,
"Waal, my name's mud again;" but on
this particular occasion Mud's luck had
run his way, and he had sat hour after
hour at the little oblong faro table since
the night before, and won with unfail
ing regularity through every deal.
Velvet himself had the shift at deal
when Mud had won the last ounce in
the "bank roll," and as the lucky player
rose from his seat opposite him, the
gambler had without a word shot him
through the heart. The cold fiendish
ness of the act was too much for the
nerves even of Fiddlers, and the camp
rose to a man and cried aloud for ven
geance. They were waiting now for
the sentence. Long Smith was the
judge. He occujiied a chair placed on a
faro table at one end of the long, nar
row cabin, the identical chair that Vel
vet sat in when he shot Mud. Velvet
sat a little to his left, a guard at either
side on his right, the hastily chosen
jury of twelve sat or stood, and beyond
a rope stretched across the room was
the silent, expectant crowd. The evi
dence was ail in and Long Smith was
settling himself down into a comfortable
position to listen to counsel for defense,
when Velvet suddenly rose to his feet
and said:
"See here, boys, what's the use of going
on with this monkey business any longer?
I shot Mud and you've determined that
I must hang. Can't you drop this and
take mo out and hang me and he done
with it, instead of torturing me with all
this nonsense. You know you're only
doing it to amuse yourselves." The eyes
of every man in the crowd were fixed on
the prisoner during this speech, then
turned expectantly to the judge.
"Pris'ner et the bar, yer bein tried fer
murder by the only kin o'er co't this yer
kentry liez. Ef there's enythin ye hev
ter say yer'll hev er chance ter say it
furder 011." There was a murmur of
approval from the audience, and coun
sel for the defense went on with his ar
gument, followed by the counsel for the 1
prosecution. The court summed up and
charged the jury, which without a mo- '
ment's hesitation returned a verdict of !
guilty.
The judge arose from his chair and
said, "Velvet, yer gone in;" there was
no further assumption of judicial digni
ty; it dropped from him as one drops a
cloak from his shoulders; "ther boys
hev giv' ye a squar deal, which's more'n
ye giv' Mud, 'n ye'll hev ter go under.
What hev ye got ter say agin it?"
Velvet smiled and shook his head.
"You've got the drop on me, I reckon,"
he said, "and I can't kick."
Just at this moment there was a strug
gle as of some one trying to force an en
trance through the crowd at the door, '
and the shrill tones of a woman's voice
sould he heard demanding access to the
court that was trying the man who had
killed lier's.
"I'm Mud's wife," she insisted in a
shrill, shaky voice.
"Oh, I know what yer nicknamed
him. His 'n my name's Dobbs, 'n he
were a good nuff man most ways, 'n I
want ter see the man what killed him
'n lef' me er lone widder rite in the
prime er life."
The relict of the late Mud was at the
bar of the court by this time. She was
a tall, angular woman of forty or so,
dressed in rusty black, with an im
mense calico sunhonnet that projected
over her face like a section of stovepipe
and effectually concealed her features.
The eyes were bright and keen though,
and swept quick glances from prisoner
to judge and jury.
The court ordered a chair for her in-
Bide the bar, and when she had seated
herself remarked to her:
"We never knowed ef Mud were a
mar'd man, marin. Ef we had we'd
shorly hev waited this trial for ye."
"D' ye mean to say yer've gorn 'n tried
this yer man for killin mine, 'll me not
here ter .see? Yer a nice kin o'er judge,
I mus' say. Waal, ye kin jest go ter
tryin 'im rite over agin, now I am
yere," and the widow settled comfort
ably back in her chair and took a dip of
snuff. The court, counsel, jury and
spectators were melted in a moment.
They were Missourians, almost to a man,
and the "ope touch of nature" that snuff
dip awoke in them made them the
widow's slaves for the moment. The
court, counsel and jury consulted for a
few moments, and the judge intimated
to the widow that they had concluded
that her request was a very natural, and
under the circumstances, a very proper
one, and that with the prisoner's con
sent they would comply with it, but as
he had already been tried and found
guilty once, they thought it hardly fair
to him to try him again without his
consent.
Velvet arose, the eyes of the throng
upon him. He was a tall, slight, grace
ful fellow, with a swagger about him
that insensibly attracted men and wom
en alike, and with a smile that showed
his white teeth under the black mus
tache, remarked that he was always de
lighted to please a lady, but that under
the circumstances he could not see any
thing to be gained by it. He had in fact
pleaded guilty in the first place, and all
that remained for the judge was to pass
sentence, but that as they had iusisted
on trying him once to please themselves,
they might as well try him again to
please the lady. There was a murmur
of approval at this sentiment from the
audience, which was sternly checked by
the court. The widow had been dipping
snuff and eying Velvet during his and
the court's remarks, and seemed to have
made up her mind to something she had
been considering, for she suddenly closed
her snuffbox with a click, rose from her
chair and, turning to the court, said:
"Jedge, I'm the person what's bin
most hurt in this yer scrap. I'm lef' a
lone woman, with nary man ter provide
fer me, an I've been er thinkin ther best
way out o' this yer biznis is fer this man
what kilt my man ter git me er new
one." She stopped amid a deathlike si
lence. Velvet was the only man that
preserved his customary unruffled com
posure. Every other face wore an ex
pression of horrified astonishment for a
moment, and then a yell of delight went
up from the crowd. The cool effrontery
of the woman had caught their sense of
the fitness of things. Here, in a country
where a woman most needed a man's
protection, ber man had been taken from
her. W hat more j ust than that the man
who had caused his taking off should re
place him! The racket subsiding, the
court gravely arose and said:
"Pris'ner et the bar, yer hev bin tried
'n foun guilty of murder. Hev yer any
thin ter say why ther sentence in this
yer co'te should not be past 'pon yer?"
Velvet shook his head smilingly and the
court continued: "Ther sentence of ther
co'te is thet yer Shall marry this yer
woman, 'n the co'te, ez a jestice, will tie
yer up right now." At this there was a
yell that fairly shook the roof, and the
audience rushed inside the bar to shake
hands with the prospective bride and
groom and offer congratulations, but the
bride had something else to say first.
"Jedge," she shrilled, "I've bin tell'd
thet Mud win'd a consid'ble et gamblin
last night 'n 1 want ther money."
The coin and dust had been impound
ed by the court, and he reluctantly
turned it over to the widow. After
looking it over she stowed it away in a
voluminous pocket, and announced her
readiness for the ceremony. The coun
sel for the prosecution and defense acted
ne groomsmen, a conple of "ladies"
from the "hurdy gurdy" next door as
bridesmaids, and the foreman of the
jury gave away the bride.
Surely such another wedding was
never seen. The festivities lasted until
the fiddler was completely exhausted,
and when a couplo of days later the Flat
recovered from its carouse, Velvet and
his wife had disappeared.
• •***•
A few days later a tall, swaggering,
black mußtached man, accompanied by
a woman dressed in rusty black, with an
immense sunhonnet covering her herd
and face, stood on the deck of a Panama
steamer making its way down San Fran
cisco bay toward the Gate. They were
at the rail gazing at the fast receding
city. Suddenly the man snatched the
sunhonnet from the woman's head and
whirled it overboard, and as it floated
astern said:
"Goodby to the Widow Mud, and now,
old girl, we can be comfortable again.
The old bonnet served its turn, and
served it well, but I can't look down two
miles of stovepipe every time I want to
see your pretty face." —George Charles
Brooke in Buffalo News.
Various Styles of Uairdreusing.
The various styles of hairdressing un
der Louis XVI were known as the cas
cade of St. Cloud, the windmill, the
sheep and lambs, the hen and chickens,
the dog and hare, the peal of hells, the
milkmaid, the bobwig, the bother, the
kerchief, the oriental, the Circassian,
Minerva's helmet, the crescent, the
enigma, the desire to please, the turned
up calash, the treasurer of the age, the
frivolous bather, the rat, the drunken
monkey and the lover's snare, the last
named consisting of a mass of curls cov
ered with powder, particles of which,
deposited on the coat or shoulders of a
gentleman, indicated the previous
whereabouts of the lady's head. St.
Louis Globe-Democrat.
Knough for Any Lion.
Very Stout Old Lady (watching the
Hons feed) —'Pears to me, mister, that
ain't a very big piece o' meat for sech an
animal.
Attendant (with the greatest and most
stupendous show of politeness on earth)
—I s'pose it does seem like a small piece
of meat to you, .na'aiS, but it's big
enough for the Hon.—London Tit-Bits.
CRUEL ETHELRIDA.
Why It Was That John Fled Away 111 the
Night.
He was plain John Smith.
She was the beautiful and cultivated
Ethelrida Martingale.
But what mattered that to him; he
loved her.
Love is the great leveler.
Not that it had leveled the sweet, pale
Ethelrida exactly, for it had not; hut it
had knocked John out flat.
Happy Ethelrida, for she had the bulge
on him.
It is ever thus.
Iu love's sandwiches one piece of bread
will always have more butter on it than
the other will.
Yet Ethelrida was not cruel, and she
did not long to let him drop hard enough
to cripple him for life.
On the contrary, she sought to let him
down 011 silver strands to beds of thorn
less roses.
But John wouldn't have it.
Nor is our hero the only man built
that way.
He loves but little, or not ntall.
Who fears the duiupness of his fall.
That was John Smith all over, and
still John was no slouch, as the word
goes.
Ethelrida knew what was coming, but
she was powerless to prevent it, unless
shetook an ax to John, and she hesitated
to resort to harsh measures.
Woman's nature is ever gentle.
It was a calm and beautiful Sabbath
evening when John called for the last
time.
"I love you, Ethelrida," he whispered,
low and lisping, at about 11 o'clock, "and
I want you for my wife."
It was then apparent to Ethelrida that
Mr. Smith meant business.
"It cannot he, I fear," she replied,
standing liiin off. "Papa is unutterably
opposed to our union, and he has said he
will lock me in my room and keep me
there if I persist in seeing you."
That was a tip John should have acted
upon—that and the palable fact that
Ethelrida did not rush to his throbbing
bosom like an undammed torrent when
he had so unmistakably blazed the way
for her.
"Love laughs at locksmiths," he said
courageously, ignoring the surface indi
cations.
Again was the fair girl balked in her
generous purpose, and there came into
her face the hard, cold lines of resolution
and into her eyes the cruel glint of jus
tice. long deferred.
"Yes, and at John Smiths," she added,
a naive simplicity scarcely concealing
the edge of the sword.
And John fled away into the misty,
murky darkness of unforgetable disap
pointment.—Detroit Free Press.
A Matter of Duty.
The casual observer would have de
tected nothing strange in the personality
of the youngish party who sat alone in
the front parlor. Yet a close scrutiny
would have revealed symptoms of men
tal straiu.
Mental strain was something Aloysius
De Gughmp could ill afford.
Presently a beautiful little hoy flitted
into the room.
The youngish party started eagerly
from his seat. There was a look of ag
onizing doubt in his eyes.
"What did she say?" he demanded.
"She said," lisped the child, "to tell
Mr. De Gughmp that she'd he right
down."
The youngish party could not repress
an exclamation of joy.
His face shone with satisfaction.
"And is that all she said?" he asked,
striving to lie calm.
The child shook his head.
"What was it, Willie? Tell me her
words. Every syllable is a treasure to
me."
The hoy approached and looked trust
ingly into his face.
"She said"
Aloysius de Gughmp held his breath.
"She'd he polite although it did turn
her stomach."
The youngish party at once resolved to
make his call strictly formal.—Detroit
Tribune.
Millions in It.
Servant (pounding on door)— What, ho!
within there! Awake, awake!
Dime Museum Owner—What means
this turmoil? Why at the midnight
hour do you arouse me from my slum
bers?
Servant—Peace, master, until you
have heard the joyful news. I have
here a messenger hoy who has never
whistled "Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay."—
Truth.
No Hope for Him.
He—Will you marry me if I stop smok
ing cigarettes?
She—No, Mr. Sappy. I can't bear the
idea of marrying a man who does noth
ing.—Brooklyn Life.
He Laughed Once Only.
"I suppose you haven't forgotten that
it is leap year," he said as he took a seat
beside her, "and so I must be careful
not to lead the conversation in a danger
ous direction," and he laughed.
"I had quite forgotten it," she said
with a yawn. "What's the use of re
membering it when you never meet a
man who is worth proposing to?"
This time he didn't laugh.—Tit-Bite.
St me Hope Left.
| "Mother," said the devoted son, bnry-
I iug his face in her lap, "for four long
I months have I tried to get employment,
and I am met everywhere with the same
; answer." And the miserable youth
: sobbed aloud.
"My dear son," said his loving mother,
"there is still hope. You know Greek
' and Latin, and did I not hear you say
yesterday that in this hour of trial
Browning was your greatest comfort."
"I did, mother," replied the youth.
"Then," cried his mother, a gleam of
hope lighting her fond eye, "do not de
spair. If the worst comes to the worst,
you can apply for a position as a Boston
horse car driver."—Truth.
His Own Invention.
A
Featherstoue—What the mischief have
you got that block and tackle fastened
to the ceiling for?
Ringway—That's a contrivance of my
own. I bought some woolen undershirts
the other day that were guaranteed not
to shrink, and I use that to pull thdm
off.—Clothier and Furnisher.
Saw Him One Hotter on Economy.
A good story was recently told of the
discount clerk in one of the Baltimore
banks. He is a man somewhat along in
years, jh a Quaker, and is possessed of
all the characteristics of that peculiar
religious sect. One day a patron of the
bank came in and submitted a pile of
notes for discount. The clerk looked
them over in his deliberate way and re
marked, "Isaac, if thee will have to
have the money 011 these notes, indorse
them."
The patron complied, writing his
name in a bold, free hand Across the
back of the promises to pay. When
nearly througli the list the good old
Quaker gently expostulated: "Isaac,
thee should be more careful of thy ink;
thee makes a dreadful waste in thy sig
nature."
111 indorsing the next note Isaac, who
was not without the spirit of a wag.
wrote his name so small that the old
Quaker was obliged to adjust his glasses
to see that it was correct. Finally,
handing it back to the customer, he
said, "Isaac, thee is a very careless
man; thee should always dot thy i's and
cross thy t's; the i in thy name, Isaac,
is not dotted."
To this good natured rebuke the pa
tron replied, "Not so, old friend; if you
will observe, the i in question has a fly
speck just above it, and I thought that
much ink could be saved."—Washing
ton Hatchet.
A Reserved Seat.
"When I was once in danger from a
lion," said an old African explorer, "I
tried Bitting down and staring at him,
as I had no weapons."
"How did it work?" asked his com
panion.
"Perfectly; the lion didn't even offer
to touch me."
"Strange! How do you account foi
it?"
"Well, sometimes I've thought it was
because I sat down 011 a branch of a very
tall tree." —Boston Globe.
IMscretionury Valor.
Mrs. Bantham—James, I wish you
would tell that big, ill mannered fellow
on the other side of the car to quit star
ing at me in that impudent manner?
Mr. Bantham (after a careful scrutiny
of the other man) —I don't think I shall
bemean myself, Mary Jane, by seeming
to be 011 Hpeaking terms with such a
looking man.—Chicago Tribune.
A Slight Misunderstanding.
Doctor—What! your dyspepsia no bet
ber yet? Did you follow my advice and
drink hot water one hour before break
fast?
Patient—l tried, doctor, but I couldn't
keep it up for more than ten minutes at
a stretch!—Westfalischer Kurier.
Art Note.
Mother—Our boii in going to bo a great
artist. Just think of it—he has sold his
first picture for twenty-five dollars.
Father —No wonder. I had a twenty
five dollar frame put on it.—Texas Sitt
ings.
Too Much.
He had trundled weighty triplets when his
wife was wrapped in slumber;
Ho had got up every morning and had built
the kitchen fire;
He bad pounded on her carpets and had sawed
up cords of lumber.
And bad stretched with endless patieuce
several miles of stiff clothes wire.
He had sworn off on bis smoking just to help
her on her missions.
And bad matched whole coils of ribbons,
with no thought of the disgrace;
He bad eaten several samples at her cooking
exhibitions.
With a moaning in bis stomach and a smile
upon bis face.
He bad borne the shirts she made him, and
bis courage ne'er forsook him;
He had stood the socks she darned him,
though the agony was keen;
He had worn her colored neckties, though his
dearest friends all shook him,
Ar.d the clothes that she selected he dis
played with humble mien.
But when one night she showed him some
pajamas she had made him
And informed him she expected that in them
he would abide.
He quailed before this torture and the thought
of it dismayed him.
And he gave one look remorseful and he laid
right down and died.
—Tom Maason in Clothier and Furnisher.
GEMS IN VERSE.
The Lightning Age.
What's the world a-comin to, a feller'd like to
kuow,
Wheu they're inakin ice to order at) inanufar
turin snow?
The cities—they're gone out o' sight: it'pears
jes' like a dream.
For when they have a cloudy night they run
the stars by steam!
An here's the lightuin, with a song, proclaimin
man is boss.
An all the street ears skimmin long without a
mule or boss!
An here's that ringin telephone, which never
seems to tire,
But takes a man's voice, free of charge, across
six miles o' wire;
An here's the blessed pbonygraf, which makes
your memory vain,
An, llku a woman, when you talk, keeps talkln
back again!
Lord J how the world is movin on beneath ths
sun an moonl
I can't help thinkin I was born a hundred years '
too soon;
But when I go—praise be to God!—it won't be
in the night.
For my grave will shine like glory In a bright
electric lightl Frank L. Stanton.
Unanswered,
j Why is it the tenderest feet must tread the
roughest road?
| Why is it the weakest back must carry the
heaviest load?
While the feet that are surest and firmest have
the smoothest path to go,
And the baWc that is straightest and strongest
has never a burden to know.
Why is it the brightest eyes are the ones soon
dim with tears?
Why is it the lightest heart must ache and
ache for years?
While the eyes that are hardest and coldest
shed never a bitter tear,
And the heart that is smallest and meanest
has never an ache to fear.
Why is it those who are saddest have always
the gayest laugh?
Why is it those who need not have always the
"biggest half?"
While those who have never a sorrow have
seldom a smile to glvo.
And those who want Just a little must strive
and struggle to live.
Why is it the noblest thoughts are the ones
that are never expressed?
Why is it the grandest deeds are the ones that
are never confessed?
While the thoughts that are like all others are
the ones we always tell.
And the deeds worth little praise are the ones
that are published well.
Why is it the sweetest smile has for its sister a
sigh?
Why is it the strongest love is the love we al
ways pass by?
While the smile that is cold and indifferent is
the smile for which we pray.
And the love we kneel to and worship is only
common clay.
Why is It the things we can have are the things
we always refuse?
Why is it none of us live the lives if we could
we'd chooBe?
The things that wo all can have aro the things
we always hate.
And lifo seems never complete, no matter how
long we wait.
—Elizabeth Stewart Martin.
To Those Who Fail.
Courage, brave heart, nor in thy purpose falter.
Go on and win the fight at any cost.
Thongh sick and weary after heavy conflict.
Rejoice to know the battle is not lost.
The field is open still to those brave spirits
Who nobly struggle till the strife Is done.
Through sun and storm, with courage all un
daunted.
Working and waiting till the battle's won. I
The fairest pearls are found in deepest waters.
The brightest jewels in the darkest mine,
And through the very blackest hour of mid
night
The star of hope doth ever brightly shine.
Press on! Press onl The path is steep and i
rugged.
And storm clouds almost hide hope's light
from view;
But you can pass where other feet have trod
den;
A few more steps may bring you safely
through.
The battle o'er, a victor crowned with honors:
By patient toil each difficulty past.
You then may see these days of bitter failure
But spurred you on to greater deeds at lost.
—Chambers' Journal.
The Thinning of the Thatch.
I was once a merry urchin—curly headed 1 was
called.
And 1 laughed at good old people when I saw
them going bald;
But it's not a proper subject to be lightly joked
about,
For it's dreadful to discover that your roof is
wearing outl
I remember asking uncle, in my innocent sur
prise,
How bo liked his bead made use of as a skating
rink by flies;
But, although their dread intrusions 1 shall
manfully resist,
I'm afraid they soon will have another rink
upon their list.
When invited to a party I'm invariably late,
kor I waste the time in efforts to conceal my
peeping pate.
Though I coax my hair across it—though i
brush away for weeks-
Yet I can't prevent its parting and dividing Into
streaks.
I have tried a hair restorer, and I've rubbed
my head with rum.
But the thatch keeps getting thinner, and the
new hair doesn't come;
So I gaze into the mirror with a gloomy, va
caut stare.
For the circle's getting wider of that open
space up therel
People tell me that my spirits I must not allow I
to fall.
And that coming generations won't have any ;
hair at alll
Well, they'll never know an anguish that can
adequately match
With the pangs of watching day by day the
thinning of your thatch.
—C. S. Shetterelf.
A Fanatic.
A young knight madoWs battlecry,
"I'll fight the evil till I diel"
And forth he rushed with heedless might
To do his battle for the right.
And recklessly he laid about.
And ruthlessly, and felt no doubt.
But blindly struck whate'er he saw
That seemed to him to have a flaw.
At length a doubt came to his mind;
He paused and turned and looked behind.
Alasl too late ho understood
How deftly iniugles ill with good.
With swimming eyes, with reeling brain.
He saw the good that ho had slain.
Himself seemed evil to him now.
And then he thought upon his vow.
And, lo! the warrior lay at rest.
With his own dagger in his breast!
—Henry Collins.
There Must He Room.
Nay, but 'tis not the end—
God were not God if such a thing could be;
If not iu time, then in eternity.
There must be room for penitence to mend i
Life's broken chance, else noise of wars
Would unmake heaven. —Alice Cary. j
Compensation.
Each year has its seasou of bloom and blight
Each soul has its song and sorrow;
Where the owl hoots on the crag tonight
The linnet will sing tomorrow.
CASTORIA!
for Infants and Children.
"Castoria in so-well adapted to children that
I recommend it as superior to any prescription
known to me." 11. A. ARCHER, M. D. f
111 So. Oxford St., Brooklyn, N. Y.
"The use of 'Castoris* is so universal and
ita merits so well known that it seems a work
of supererogation to endorse it. Few are the
intelligent families who do not keep Caatoria
within easy reach." ;
CARLOS MARTTN, D.D.,
New York City.
Late Pastor Bloomingdalo Reformed Church.
THE CENTAUR COMPANY, 77 MURRAY STREET, NEW YORE.
NINETEEN - YEARS~YXPERIENCE
In I<eatlier.
Our stock is bound to go. There is nothing iike 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
IK the CLOTIIIKG LIKI#
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
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, birkbec Vß r e ' e c L k AN D .
H. M. BRISLIN.
UNDERTAKER
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.
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 in
the Tribune.
Oastorla cures Colic, Constipation,
Bour Stomach, Diarrhoea. Eructation,
Kills Worms, gives sleep, and promotes di
geetion.
Without injurious medication*
" For several years I have recommended
your ' Costoria,' and shall always continue to
ao so as it has invariably produced beneficial
resuits."
EDWIN F. PARDEE, M. D. #
" The Winthrop," 125 th Street and 7th Are.,
New York City.
GO TO
Fisher Bros.
Liver]i Stable
FOR
FIRST-CLASS TURNOUTS
At Short Notice, for Wedding, Parties and
ruuerals. Front Street, two squares
below Frcelund Opera House.
BEUIIt I! II IE 110 SYSTEM.
LEIIIGN VALLEY
| \ DIVISION.
I r Anthracite coal used exclu
1/ r si vol v, insuring cleanliness and
" comfort.
AHRANGEMENT OF PASSENGER TRAINS.
NOV. ir>, 1892.
LEAVE FREELAND.
i * 4; '' 3.50,
Jt'ddo
-ok A He. it, b K V,7 for Manoh
and Now Ymk S et u I,eheni ' 1 bilu., Easton
New York.) Bno connecti on for
deiphlm M ' for Dothlehcm ' Easton and Phlla
mu .jn, M b ( |cn n s,fmm7 d
likes-Barre, I ittston and L. and B. Junction!
SUNDAY TRAINS.
I im^vL? nrt ;'m M - tor Drlfton, Jeddo,
•J i-ii w ld and Haaleton.
i } • For Delano, Mahanov Citv Shen
andoah, New York and Philadelphia.
ARRIVE AT FREELANI).
5.60, 7.09, T.Ai. 9.18 10.50 A. M„ 13 1(1 1 IK. " ;tl
4.50, 7.03 and 8.117 P. M. from rfasloton siSE
- ij'inu ii yard, Joddo and Drillon.
.. . " - :Ci > 4.60, 7.ai P. M.
''V', Ml ' '"n<iy City and Shenandoah
(via New Boston Branch),
i 1.15 and 8.D7 P. M. from New York, Easton
Philadelphia, Bethlehem, Allentowu and
I Manch ( hunk.
ID. 1 H and 10.fit) A. M. from Easton, Philadel
phia, Bethlehem and Munch Chunk.
IlttJn'nVji £'h M " °JL P ' *t from White
Haven, (Hen Summit, WJlkes-Barre, Pittston
und L. and IJ. Junction (via llitfhlund Brunch).
• SUNDAY TRAINS.
LmXwVa^.Jrfdo 3 ina'Dri'fton m " U2let ° n '
phla' and Eaatoi'" 1 Ha2leti > n - Vbl > de >-
: h :n '/ M. 'rom Pottsville and Delano.
Agents. 1 " orm ation inquire of Ticket
I. A. BWEIGARD, Gen. Mgr.
C. G. HANCOCK, Gen. Puss. Agt.
Philadelphia, Pu
A. W. NONNKMACHF.It, Ass'tG. P. A.,
South Hethlehom, Pa.