D[VE THE OLD YEAR
MSSFCRF-J 1 ' 5 - UE
GIVE the poor
° ld YCftr hl J l d h U ,°
\ 'I | ' :I R I "'^ AIIHFUI
Oh, was it not his hand that brought
The springtime's wealth of green
And flung Into the lap of May
Fit garlands for a queen?
And though among the blossoms fair
He dropped some sprigs of rue,
We'll take him by the hand and give
Tho poor Old Year his due!
When summer hold high carnival
Among her sylvan bowers,
Was not his hand tho one to strew
Ilcr onward path with flowers?
And when, in billowy harvest fields,
Tho reapers' song went round,
Did ho not loitor on his way,
Till all tho sheaves were bound?
And if among ilio bearded grain
Some blighted stalks there grow
We'll winnow out the gold and give
Tho good Old Year his duel
A' ! was he not our comrade still
Through many a glade and wold,
When all tho autumn trees were gowned
In crimson, dun, and gold?
And whim his hair and board grew white
With flakes of wintry snow,
Did he not bring the Christmas joys
To set our htarts aglow?
And if tho trimming cup lio held
Was mixed with sorrow, too,
We'll drain it to tho dregs and givo
The kind Old Year bis duo!
—Helen Whitney Clark, in Leslie's Weekly.
< \RR?<VSA
town was
wM'klu f euphoniously
61 I name d Cramp
Hollow and her
A 111 I k° üBO was a
T J it The great barn
near it would
half-dozen such houses.
Faith lived with her father and
mother, who were farmers and came
Cfc,— "I HXVB COHB FOB PAITH."
from an old stock of farmers, a fact of
which they used to boast.
"Farmers are the most independent
critters liviu'," Mr. Carson would fre
quently say.
"1 don't see as they aro any more in
dependent than otlier folks," Faith
would reply. "Seems to me we have to
work for all we want, and then we i
don't always get it"
"Of course we can't naterally ex
pect to git things without we work for
'em."
"Farmer Carsqn emphasized the j
word "work." Work, according to his
mind, meant labor among fields and j
vegetation.
"Work a'mong a few bibs an' tuckers '
don't amount to much," he continued,
with a sidewise glance at Faith, who
was huisly washing the supper dishes;
"I mean real work that keeps a man at
it arly an' late."
Faith flushed. The "bib and tucker"
shaft had struck home. She knew ho
was thinking of Oscar Blake, a dry
goods clerk. She replied with more
spirit than deference.
"I suppose store work does fail some
times, and potatoes give out once in
awhilel"
This time her arrow found its mark,
for hadn't Mr. Carson's potato crop
failed this year?
All the while Faith knew that it
really was not BO much "city store
work" to which her father objected as
it was to the clerk, who two years ago
had passed a summer vacation among
the hills surrounding Cramp Hollow,
and who had formed an acquaintance
with Faith, much to Mr. Carson's ob
jection He was afraid Faith's head
would bo turned by new-fangled no
tions and she would waDt to leave the
,old farm.
Oscar Blake was not a dude, ne was
simply a good, straightforward fellow,
who, by merest chance, h id the oppor
tunity given him to go to the country.
He did not even choose the place. He
was sent there by an old city resident,
who, in his early boyhood, had lived
there.
A clerk, who was Oscar's chum, had
been ill a long time, and, as they were
friends in their poverty, Oscar had
tended him devotedly, and this, in ad
dition to his clerical duties, had nearly
prostrated him. By some fortunate
discovery the chum had turned out to
be a nephew to Oscar's rich employer,
and he, to show his gratitude, seut him
off to recuperate, with a promise of
promotion when he returned.
Oscar found the woods and fields
charming, and Faith Carson he pro
nounced more than charming—angelic
was the word most frequently in his
thought But Mr. Carson guarded
Faith very jealously and suspiciously,
and when he wasn't guarding her, her
mother was, which was all perfectly
right and proper, only it didn'tgive the
lovers half a chance to be comfortable.
All know what becomes of girls who
are cautioned against falling in love
witli-particular somebodies; they gen
erally go straight off and do it. And
Faith was no exception to the rule.
Although Oscar did not find opportuni
ty to '-tell his love," yet it did not seem
to "prey upon his cheek," for it grow
plumper, fresher and browner every
day. Never a chance could he get to
see Faith alone.
The day approached when he must
leave. He had written a note to Faith,
pouring out his love in it, and asked
her if lie "might corns to claim her as
his wife the next New Year's day—for
her to send him just one word after he
was gone if he might."
After it was written the foolish boy
didn't know what to do with it. lie
could not even get a chance to put it in
her hand, and us for sending it to the
Tillage post office, that plan would nev
er do, as Mr. Carson would be sure to
get the letter first.
At last a strange bit of fortune fa
vored him. He was passing through
the kitchen and Mrs. Carson, who was
particularly good-natured that day, was
showing him some of the old-fashioned
belongings of the old house.
Among other things she opened the
fioor of the old-fashioned brick oven,
long since relegated to the past in
favor of a "range." Its capacious
mouth' looked large enough to swallow
almost anything, and as she turned
away to make a remark about somo->
thing else Oscar quickly slipped his let
ter inside and shut the door hurriedly,
with a bang which must have mg.de the
ashes fly inside.
In his excitement he forgot that the
oven had not been opened for several
years, and probably would not be
opened for years again. As he passed
out lie glanced mysteriously from Faith
to the oven door, a look which she
failed to interpret, as she did not hap-i
pen to see him place the letter there.
The day of parting came. The v-utumn
passed and no word caifte from Oscar to
cheer Faith.
"He has forgotten me," she sighed
softly, but she remembered at part
ing- he had whispered: "New
Year's." Would he come then? The
day came and ended and ho did not
come. "Then he did not mean that,"
and she reproyed herself for thinking
ho.
All this time Mr. Carson's mind was
partly on his potato crop failure and
partly on Oscar.
"It's kinder strange we hain't heerd
from hiin or of him sence he went
away," said Mr. Carson, taking it for
granted that Faith would know "him"
meant Oscar, and forgetting that ho
had emphatically declared "there
should be uo letter writing or any sich
nonsense."
"Arter all, ho appeared to enjoy old
fashioned things. I 'member how
curious he looked into the old brick
oven." #
Faith remembered it, too. Soon after
ward Mr. Carson left the room. With
a curiosity born of sentimentality she
felt as if she wanted to look into the
old oven. She walked leisurely to
ward it and opened the rusty, creaking
door. There was the fateful missive.
She took up the leHcr mechanically,
wondering what it co Ud be. It was
addressed to herself and staled. In her
excitement she closed the door with a
hang which startled Mr. Carson, who
was reentering the room.
Faith's face was white and she was
breathing hard and fast. She felt as
if she held a message from the dead.
"What have you got there, Faith?"
he asked.
"I don't know, father. I just looked
in the oven, as Oscar did, and 1 found
this letter there. It is directed to me."
Mr. Carson approached her and looked
at it through hastily adjusted specta
"Shol Sure enoughl Road it now!"
Faith read it, but to herself; then
I handed it to her father with flushed
I cheeks. Mr. Carson read It slowly,
then placed it in Faith's hands without
saying- a word. •
"You see, now, father, if ho could
have told me about it it would have
been all right I suppose ho thought I
would find it soon, and now it is over
two years. It is too late now," and
here her voice grew pitiftilly weak and
trembling; "but 1 shall write him at
his old address, just once, though I
may never hear from him again. Per
haps this is what he meant by whisper
ing 'New Year's.'"
Faith took her letter and went slow
ly to her room. Mr. Carson looked aft
er her with a sigh.
"So—that's what's been the matter
with her, an' I've ben a-doctorin' of her
with sarsaparilla an' other arbs! Guess
they won't cure her. I might as well
let things take their coursel"
" Faith wrote Oscar a dainty little let
ter, tolling him of finding his at that
late day, and simply said: "I would
have written you if I had found it
sooner."
Oscar was not at the old place. 11 or
letter wandered from place to place,
fonvarded by Uncle Sam's faithful pos
tal clerks, until it reached him one
happy day in the midst of rising for
tune.
It found him still free, except for tics
of love for Faith. Only four more days
and the new year would be here! lie
started hurriedly for Cramp Hollow
and walked into the old kitchen from a
blinding snowstorm.
He glanced for an instant toward
Faith, sitting by the fire and leaning
her head wearily against that old oven
door; then marched resolutely toward
the surprised old farmer and said:
"Mr. Carson, I have come for Faith!"
Mrs. Carson dropped her knitting
work, Mr. Carson dropped his newspa
per and said in a broken voice:
"Then I have faith to believe you will
get her."
And ho did the very next day, which
was New Year's day.—Chicago News.
ABOUT PINEAPPLES.
Tlu-y Cost Flvo Dollars Apiece lu England
and All Over Europe.
In England and all over Europe
pineapples, or "pines," are eaten only
by the few who can afford to raise
them in hot-houses or pay the extrav
agant prices for which they are sold,
lays tho Youth's Companion. So rare
arc they on the other side of the At
lantic that they are sometimes hired
to impart a crowning glory to ban
quets, where they may be admired and
longed for, but not eaten.
In England a pound, or five dollars,
is considered a reasonable price for
the hot-house "pine," and even in this
country as much has been paid for
choice specimens of the fruit at the
season when they are not in the
market. Until within a dozen years
nearly all the pineapples raised for
market were grown upon the Bahama
islands, whence they are shipped by
swift sailing vessels to New York or
Liverpool.
To-day the principal pineapple pro
ducing district of the world is the
United States, on a group of five
small islands or "keys" lying on the
extreme southern part of Florida.
These keys are Elliott's, Old Ithoades,
Largo, Plantation and Upper Meta
: umba. On them less than seven hun
dred acres are devoted to the cultiva
tion of "piucs," but from this small
area four million five hundred thou
sand pineapples were shipped to New
York in one year recently.
Tho shipment from the Bahamas
'/or the same year was about two-thirds
of this amount, while less than a mil
lion and a quarter were brought into
the United States from other West
Indies islands.
Tlie mainland of southern Florida
has also bepun to produce pineapples
in pivat numbers. On the island of
(3uba the sugar planters are Just be
ginning to convert their unprofitable
caneflelds into pineapple patches.
The Bahama pineapples are deterio
rating on aecount of the impoverish
ment of the Roil, and the growers aro
turning their attention to sisal hemp.
On the other hand, the area of "pine"
lands in south Florida is being ex
tended with each year, and such pains
are taken in gathering the crop that
Florida "pines," like Florida orangi s,
now command a better price than any
others.
Pineapple plants, frequently called
"trees" by the growers, rarely attain a
greater height than three feet, and are
provided with stiff, sharp-pointed
leaves like those on the top or "crown"
of a pineapple, except that they are
much longer. In fact, the crown of a
"pine" is in itself a perfect plant, and,
if thrust into the ground under proper
conditions, will bear fruit in eighteen
months.
The pineapple has no seed, but is
propagated from slips or suckers. Sev
eral slips spring from the base of eaeli
perfected fruit, while the suckers shoot
from the bottom of the plant.
Each plant produces a single fruit
and then dies, hut its suckers become
hearing plants a year later, while its
slips, if thrust into the ground, will
yield fruit in eighteen months.
About ten thousand slips may bo
planted to the ' acre, and of these two
thirds will bear fruit. Thus the yield
of pineapples is about Boven thousand
to the acre. If growers could be cer
tain of realizing one dollar per dozen
on every crop pineapple-raising would
rank among the most lucrativo of agri
cultural pursuits, but the present lack
of transportation facilities and the de
pendence of the growers upon commis
sion merchants diminish the prolits
greatly.
The pineapple is perishablo, and
there are many chances against its
reaching a distant market in good con
dition, consequently it is generally con
sidered best to sell the crop in the field
rather than run the risk of shipment.
A Song for the Now Year.
Outstretched upon a snowy bier
Lies the Old Year;
Ilia slow pulao stilled, hla last breath sped—■
"The King Is dead!"
Across the threshold New Year stands,
II;.i rosy hands
Lad.n with frlfta Ring, Joy-bells, ring!
"Long live the King!"
—J. Torrey Connor, in Good Housekeeping.
SHALL WOMEN SMOKE?
Shall woman smoke! Why should sho not, if
she is minded to?
Why shouldn't vromau do the things that lordly
man may do?
Be makes her stand on cable-cars, a-cllnging to
u strap,
E'en though she step upon his feet, or tumble
in his lap.
She's entered into politics; sho practices at
law;
She's taken up the surgeon's work with lancet
and with saw.
Some of them play at football—so we're told;
and there aro some
Who on their safety bicycles like Boreas do
hum.
Man makes her do a thousand things that once
were his to do,
If she assumes his duties, pray why not his
pleasures too?
Sho wears his collars, and her clothes are cut
quite as his are;
If she be mannish in her dress, why not have
her cigar?
And furthermore, man has encroached on wom
an's sphero of late,
He's taken on dressmaking at a truly wondrous
rate;
And some men's clubs for gossip beat the Dor
cas out of sight
To thus encroach, and yield no Jot, most surely
is not right
Of course 'twill not be pleasant, Just at first, to
see Minetto,
Like any dudeling, puffing on a horrid cigar
ette:
Nor will the sight be of a strongly pleasurable
typo
When first we see our daughters lighting up
their evening pipe.
But men get used to all things, be it soon or be
it late,
And this, like other problems, must fulfill its
settled fate,
fTls very safe to prophesy the timo is not so far
When women all will smoke who live boyond
their first cigar.
—Gaston V. Drake, in Harper's Bazar.
HIS LAST BET.
BY E. 11. BAYNES.
[Copyright, 1803, by the Author. 1
" Across the heath, along tho course,
'Tis said that now on phantom horse
Tho groatest Jockey of his days
Hides nightly in the moonlight rays."
I E horses had
U| nj gone to the
a P art from tho
/ eager crowd of
/ \ race goers, upon
I i a ki\°ll which
I fflJ \ 1 commanded an
V excellent view
° * e rao^c
stood a tall,
p\ spare man of
perhaps flfty
five years of
/"* age- Ilis hair
was iron gray,
- an( ] deep lines
were furrowed in the pale anxious face.
Ilis clothes were of the cut and pat
tern which stamp the habitual race
track gam bier; but they were worn and
Bhabby now, and, as is usual in such
cases, denoted a season of hard luck.
Frederick Clifton—lor such was his
name—had been a very wealthy man,
but hlB money, like that of many an
other of his class, had gone with more
or less regularity into the pockets of
the bookmakers; until now, after years
of anxiety and misfortune, he found
himself at the end of his tether. All
tho money he had left, and all that he
could borrow, was staked upon tho race
about to be started, and well he knew
that unless the black muzzle of Bodach
(Has first caught the eyes of the judges
as the horses passed under the wire, an
other gambler's career would he ended
and another gambler's wife would have
to pay dearly for her husband's folly.
lie raised his field-glass—the same
through which he had so often seen
vast sums of his money take wings—
uud turned it toward the post, where
fifteen speedy thoroughbreds were
plunging and dancing about sideways,
waiting for the signal from the starter.
Bodach Glas, tho horse he had backed
to retrieve his lost fortune or ruin him,
was almost an outsider in the betting,
but his tremendous raking stride and
his magnificent condition, together
with the tempting odds of forty to ono
against, had made him the bearer of
the broken gambler's hopes. Another
thing in his favor was the fact that
Fred Archer, tho greatest jockey that
over wore silk, had the mount —a hint
which the talent seemed to have entire
ly overlooked.
The flag- falls. As though moved by
the same force, fifteen horses spring
forward as one, and "They're olfl"
that well-known cry which never fails
to make the heart beat faster—rolls
like low thunder from end to end of
the crowded grand stand.
As the horses round the turn, they
are lost to view in the cloud of dust
TIGHTLY GRASPED IN 1318 RIGHT HAND,
raised by their flying hoofs, and there
is a momentary lull in the excitement
of the expectant throng. The cloud of
dust rolls into the stretch, and sudden
ly the leading horses burst from it like
meteors, their bellies to the ground,
their jockeys bent double and standing
in their stirrups. The favorite,
Tirnour, a big bay ridden by a boy in
a scarlet jacket, is leading by two
lengths, with '.he field well bunched.
Three hundred yards from the finish,
the backers of T'unour see a sight
which checks their shouts of exultation.
A horse on the extreme outside has
shot clear of the bunch, and is rapidly
overhauling the favorite. So sudden
and unexpected has been the move
ment that for an instant the electrified
spectators fail to recognize the sable
form of a despised outsider, Bodach
Olas. As his rider calls upou him for
the final effort, behind the flying mane
is seen the pale, drawn face ot Archer,
who, with his light body moving In
perfect unison with the stride of the
thoroughbred, sits down and rides as
though his life were staked on the re
sult. There is a frantic cracking of the
cruel whips, a flash of bright silken
jackets, and amid the thundering
shout of "Timour wins!" "Bodach
Glas wins!" —tho horses dash under the
wire.
So closely has been the finish that no
one besides the judges are sure of tho
winner, until the number of Bodach
Glas is slowly hoisted above that of
Timour.
During the excitement of the race no
notice has been taken of the shabbily
dressed gambler, but now, as the out
sider's number goes up, he is seen to !
reel and fall forward on his face, hi 9 j
field-glass still tightly grasped in his :
right hand. Before the customary
curious crowd has time to gather, kind
ly hands bear the prostrate man to the
jockey's quarters, where he is laid upon
a cot
Presently he opens his eyes. The
light of fever is in them, and he looks
HE SEES THE HORSES AT THE TOST,
around in bewilderment on the little
group of jockeys who are watching "do
feller what fainted 'cause de favorito
was beat."
Suddenly he sits bolt upright on the
cot and raises the field glass to his
eyes. Again he sees the horses at the
post; again the struggle of the race
takes place before his eyes. "Good
horses," he says, quietly; "all good
horses; but there's only ono Fred
Archer." Then, his hoarse voice grow
ing more excited: "They're offl The
sorrel's away first! Where's Bodach
Glas? —where's Archer? There they
are—there they are—Lord, what a
stride! Get him out of the ruck,
Archer—don't you see he's pocketed
and can't break through? Look out,
boy!—watch that scarlet jacket—
Timour, by all the devils! Curse on his
ugly bay hide!"
Here he paused for a moment, silent
ly moving-his glass around the room,
as though watching the progress of tho
race. Then he broke out again: "Now
you're in the stretch—break throughl
Ha, hal—ho knows what he's doing. On
the outside —that's right, that's right!
Keep him straight, boy—keep him
straightl The bay's coming back—hur
rah! hurrah! Now or never—lift him
along now—give him whip and spurs
hurrah! hurrah. Bodach Glas wins!—
My wife—Archer—hurrah—hurrah!"
And with the cry of exultation upon
his lips his body fell back limp upon tho
cot, and Frederick Clifton's career was
over.
A LITTLE DIFFICULTY.
flow the Newspapers in Corsica Sappresi
the News.
The elections for the council gen-*
oral were going on all over the islam*
of Corsica. Tho canton of Soecia com
prises several villages, among others
Guagno, noted for its famous mineral
springs and also for the turbulence of
its people. The elections took place in
each village and on the morrow tho
presidents of the several bureaus were
to meet at Soccia for the formal declar
ation of the poll. In consequence of
certain disorders that had already oc
curred the mayor of Soccia issued an
edict to the effect that uone of the in
habitants of Guagno was to enter the
village t hat day.
The inhabitants of Guagno chose to
ignore this order, and sixty of them, all
armed and all ar.gry that their candi
date had been defeated, marched upon
Soccia, headed by their mayor. Two
gendarmes (not armed) had been placed
at the entrance of the village and
warned the advancing troops that they
were to come no farther The mayor
of Guagno cried: "Fire!" There was a
general volley frr-m his followers and
tlie two gendarmes fell dead. "They
both bore excellent characters;
one of them had been tweuty-four
year s in tlie service, had been proposed
for the military modal,and leaves a wife
and three children."
Such was the first account in tho
daily paper of lktstia. It occupied
about seven inches of one column. The
next day the editor had had time to re
flect (or he, too, may possibly have had
a significant warning), for in an article
three inches long, the account was
somewhat qualified and there was this
important emendation: "It seems we
were not correct in stating that it was
the mayor of Guagno who gave the or
der to fire upon the gendarmes."
The third day there were just two
lines: "In consequence of the unfor
tunate affair at Soccia, it is probable
that the ipayor of Guagno will send in
his resignation." That was all! I took
the newspaper regularly for a week,
for I was curious to see how the affair
would end, but there was nothing more;
apparently no inquiry, no prosecution
of the offenders. Contemporary Re
view. -
—physician— "Considering the weak
state of your eyes it will be as well if
you gaze as much as possible into
empty space." Patient—"All right,
then. I'll k ce P looking into my purse."
—•'How do you like the new nurse?"
"Oli, she is devoted to the : hildren,
but poor, dear little Fido • I " "its
like a dog."
PICKED UP BY THE WAY.
THINGS SEEN AND HEARD IN THE
TOWN AND VICINITY.
Matters of a I.ocal Nature Written Up
and l'lurril llefore the Headers of the
"tribune" by the Saunterer--Something
Here May Interest You.
Did my readers ever notice
while traveling by train the man
who attracts the attention of all
' iiT a car by "talking through
his hat?" A case of this kind
was brought to my notice one
day last week on a train not far
from Freeland and the speaker
was no less a personage than
one of the men who secured a
"good job" on the Valley dur
ing the recent strike. He con
tinued annoying those near him i
until they became so disgusted
that a row was imminent at any
moment.
When a man is so conscience-1
stricken, as this one was, on ae- j
count of some desplicable act or
injury that he has done his fel
l'ow man, then that man is in
the most abject misery known.
The gulpingjSensation which he
experiences in trying to swallow
the lump in his throat when he
unexpectedly Jinds himself in
the company of those whom he
injured, is not any more embar
rassing to him than when he is
compelled to gaze upon the pub
lic in general who know of the
foul means he adopted to secure
an advantage over those who
are his superiors. ~
In speaking thus I have ref
erence to some of those who
have secured "good jobs" on
the Lehigh Valley, and who
may be seen occasionally on
trains coming into Freeland.
There is probably no place [in
the state where these worthless
hirelings received so much at
tention as they did in the im
mediate vicinity of Freeland
during the strike of 1887-'BB.
At that'time they came from all
quarters and serpent-like crawl-
Jed into positions of trust that
their sloven nature never would
permit if merit received its just
reward.
Many ineffectual attempts
were made during the miners'
strike to solve the scab problem,
but all ended in failure, llot-
I heads advocated questionable
measures, while' others of a
I more conservative nature advis
ed moderation, claiming that a
worthless'man is not only a load
to himself, but to those who em
ploy him, and in'the end would
fall of his own weight, pulling
others down along who might
attempt to hold him up.
Experience has shown the
latter method of reasoning to be
the only true solution of the
question which is such a vexa
tion to laboring men. It is slow
in operation, but nature does
its work well. An example of
this may be found at several of
the collieries nearby where, a
few years ago, farmers were
turned into engineers, w.ood
i choppers into firemen and pump
men, clay-diggers into miners,
etc., and it is evident that retri
bution came upon them as swift
ly and destructively as a cy- j
clone.
At one of these collieries east
of Freeland about eighty-three
of these excuses saw the oppor
tunity of their .lives, selected
their jobs and went to work.
Today but two remain. At the
collieries south of Freeland
these battered specimens of hu
manity received a similar fate.
Where they have gone no record
| has been kept, presumably na-
I ture has thrown her mantle over
them and henceforth their home
is in oblivion. Such I predict
will be the end of those who
went on the Valley and love to
talk so much.
On no part of the Valley sys
tem were "good jobs" so eager
! ly jumped at by roust-abouts as
on the Hazleton division, and
j apparently all had their eye on
a fire-box. They succeeded
very well, but these accidental
promotions have very little sta
bility and are always the out
come of some great necessity,
and the fact that many of them
have been sent to the rear on
former occasions, their incom
potency for the time being is
overlooked. In the end they
will be as those who preceded
them—turned down and driven
from the service of the men to
whom they bartered their con
science for a good job.
Saunteuer.
Buy $lO worth of goods at Chestnut's
ami you get a handsome dpll free.
J, c.
BERNER'S
EMPORIUM
Just as sure (is the rivers ran to the sea so
the tide of trade runs to\the counters of the
mercha nt irho advertises. Looka tth is :
"TheK, George, are the gifts for these timet.
When one can get his choice of twelve of the richest
woods grown, and ml regular price, Christmas should
bring every woiama io lUe Uud a ucw UiwclL Carpet
bweeper."
For the balance of this month ire ivill give
you
TEN PER CENT. OFF
ON ALL
BLANKETS.
and 50 per cent, off on all coats left from
last year. This means
A SIO.OO ladies' coat for $5.00.
Can you afford to miss all thist
Toilet chamber sets, worth $4, for $2.50.
Cheaper than any ever offered in the coun
ty. NOTIONS and HOLIDA Y GOODS
icc are aiming to hare just what you uant
far cheaper than yon dreamed of —consider-
ing quality. We hare a large stock of shoes
to select from; the Orwigsburg shoes for chil
dren; every pair guaranteed; call and see
them.
GROCERIES
and
PROVISIONS.
20 LBS. GRANULATED SUGAR, $1.00;
Shoulders. He; Cheese, l(ic; Butter, 30c
Lard, 12-Je; Salt herring, be. lb; Salt bad
dock. 5c lb; 3 lb bologna.2sc; 3 lbs mix
ed cakes, 25c; 5 lbs rice. 25c; 5 lbs bai'-
lcy. 25e; 3 lbs ginger cakes, 25c; 4 lbs
soda biscuits, 25c; Mint lozengers, lOe
lb; Mixed candy. 10c lb; Stick eaiuly,
10c lb; 5 cans sardines. 25c; 2 cans salm
on. 25c; 3 <|ts beans, 25c; 3 qts peas, 25c;
2 lbs dry corn 25c; 5 lbs currants, 25c;
3 lbs raisins, blue. 25c; 5 lbs raisins, 25c;
Bonny Hour, $1.85.
Yours truly,
J. G. BERNER.
IKS--. LEHIGH VALLEY
RAILROAD.
Anthracite coal used exclu
r si vely, insuring- cleanliness and
ARRANGEMENT OP PASSENGER TRAINS.
NOV. 11), 181)3.
LEAVE FKEELANB.
0 05, 8 40, 0 33. 10 41 a m, 1 20, 2 27, 3 45, 4 55,
0 58, 7 12, 8 47 p m, for Drifton, Jeddo, Lum
ber Yurd, Stockton and llazleton.
I) 05, 8 40 a in, 1 20, 3 45 p m, lor Mauch Chunk,
Allentown, Bethlehem, Phila., Easton and New
York.
. 40 a ni, 4 55 p m for Bethlehem, Easton and
i Phila.
720, 10 56 a m, 12 33,4 31 p m, (via Highland
( i ranch) for White Haven, Glen Summit, Wilkes
' arre, Pittston and L. and B. Junction.
SUNDAY TRAINS.
11 44) a in and 8 45 p m for Drifton, Jeddo, Lum
er Yard and Hazleton.
345 d m for Delano. Mahanoy City, Shenan
doah. New York and Philadelphia.
ARRIVE AT FREELAND.
5 50, 7 18, 7 28, 9 10, 10 56 a m, 12 33, 2 13, 4 34,
658 and 837 pin, l'rom llazleton, Stockton,
Lumber Yard, Jeddo and Drifton.
7 26, U 10, 10 56 a in, 2 13, 4 JW, 658 p m from
Delano, Mahanoy City and Shenandoah (via
New Boston Branch).
2 13, 6 58 and 8 37 p m from New York, Easton,
Philadelphia, Bethlehem, Allentown and Mauch
Chunk.
9 10 and 10 56 a m, 2 13, 0 58 and 837 p m from
Easton, l'hila., Bethlehem and Mauch Chunk.
9 33, 10 41 a in, 2 27,6 58 pin from White Haven,
Glen Summit, Wilkes-Ban c, Pittston and L. and
B. Junction (via Highland Branch).
SUNDAY TRAINS.
1131 a m and 381p m, from Hazleton, Lum
ber Yard, Jeddo and Drifton.
11 31 a in from Deluno, Hazleton, Philadelphia
and Easton.
3 31 p in from Delano and Mahanoy region.
For further Information inquire of Ticket
Agents.
CHAS. S. LEE, Gcn'l Pass. Agent,
Phiia., Pa.
It. H. WILBUH, Gen. Supt. East. Div.,
A. W. NONNEMACHEIt, Ass'tG. P. A.,
South Bethlehem, Pa.
R 1 HE DELAWARE, SUSQUEHANNA AND
I. SCHUYLKILL RAILROAD.
Time table in effect September 3, 1803.
Trains leave Drifton forJeddo, Hazlo
Brook, Stockton, Beaver Meadow itoad, Hoan
and Hazleton Junction at 6 00,6 10am, 12 10,
4 09 p in, daily except Sunday, and 7 03 a m, 2 38
p in, Sunday.
Trains leave Drifton for Harwood, Cranberry,
Tonihicken and Doringer at 600a m, 12 10 p m,
daily except Sunday; and 7 03 a m, 2 38p m,
Sunday.
Trains leave Drifton for Oneida Junction,
Harwood ltoad, Humboldt ltoad, Oneida and
Shcppton at oloa m, 1210, 409p m, daily except
Sunday; and 7 03 a in, 2 38 p in, Sunday.*'
Trains leave Hazleton Junction for Harwood,
Cranberry, Tomhicken and Deringer at 637 a
m, 1 49 p in, daily except Sunday; and 8 47 am,
4 18 p m, Sunday.
Trains leave Hazleton Junction for Oneida
Junction, Harwood ltoad, Humboldt Koud,
Oneida and Shcppton at 6 47, 9 10 a m, 12 40, 4 119
p in, daily except Sunday; and 7 40 am, 3 08 p
in, Sunday.
Trains leave Deringer for Tomhicken, Cran
berry, Harwood, Hazleton Junction, Hoan,
Beaver Meadow Bond. Stockton, liazie Brook,
Kekley, Jeddo and Drifton at 2 40, 607 p m,
daily except Sunday; and 9 37 a m, 507 p m,
Sunday.
Trains leave Shcppton for Oneida, Humboldt
ltoad, Harwood ltoad, Oneida Junction, Hazle
ton Junction ltoan at 7 52, 10 16 a in, 115,
5 25 p in, daily except Sunday; and 8 14 a m, 3 45
p in, Sunday.
Trains leave Shcppton for Beaver Meadow
ltoad, Stockton, liazie Brook, Eeklcy, Jeddo
and Drifton at 10 16 a m, 5 25 p m, daily, except
Sunday; and 8 14 a ni, 8 45 p m, Sunday.
Trains leave Hazleton Junction lor Beaver
Meadow ltoad, Stockton, Hazle Brook, Eckloy,
Jeddo and Drifton at 10 38 a in, 3 11, 5 47, 638 p
m, daily, except Sunday; and 10 08 a m, 5 38 p m,
Sunday.
All trains connect at Hazleton Junction with
electric cars for Hazleton, Jeanesviilo. Auden
rled and other points on Lehigh Traction Co's.
It. H.
Trains leaving Drifton at 6 10 a ni, Hazleton
unction at 9 10 a m, and shcppton at 7 52 a in,
J 15 p m, connect at Oneida Junction with L. v.
IR. It. trains east and west.
Train leaving Dril'ton at 6 00 a m. makes con
nection at Deringer with I'. H. R- train for
Wilkes-Barre, Suubury, llarrfsbwrg, etc.
E B COXE DANIEL COXK,
President.' Su POrintondeofc