On the 20th of May, 189—, a light car
riage rolled rapidly along one of the
finest highways in the world—that
which leads from Sorrento to Salerno.
On the narrow little back seat sat
Count Dietrich von Dolsberg and his
bride, the lovely daughter of Counselor
von Gumpel. They had spent three
weeks on the Riviera and along the
gulf or Naples, and for the last week
had engaged separate apartments at
the inns, and had omitted the good
night kiss. Little misunderstandings
had arisen between the newly-married
pair. The Countess Lenore was a petted
child, exacting and a little imperious,
and, above all, very obsinate. She was
as deeply in love with her husband as
he with her, but she greatly resented
any attempt to exercise authority over
her; so now they sat side by side, cold
and silent. Count Dietrich was keenly
appreciative of the beauties of nature
and would gladly have thrown his
strong arms about her and whispered
in her pretty little ear: "Lenore, only |
open your eyes and look about you;
how can you be so cold among such
scenes? How can you give yourself
up to such petty whims in the pres
ence of such grandeur and beauty?"
But he said nothing till, at a sudden
turn in the road, one of the picturesque
old Saracenic towns lay before them.
Flat-roofed gray stone houses, with
outside staircases, arched bridges over
the court-yards and narrow alleys.
Then he could no longer repress an ex
clamation of delight and surprise.
"Lenore, look! How wonderfully pic
turesque! It is the most enchajiting
little nest in all Italy. We must stop
here. Do you hear, coachman? Drive
us to the best hotel!"
The coachman smiled pityingly. "The
best hotel! There is no choice here. 1
think we had better drive on. There is
nothing here for your excellencies."
"All the same, here I shall stop, if 1
have to sleep on straw. I must see the
place by daylight."
The coachman protested in vain and
the young countess made a few sharp
observations on her husband's incon
siderate self-will, but Count Dietrich
insisted on stopping.
They turned into the principal street
of the little town. An excited crowd
stood in front of one of the best houses,
shouting and screaming. The carriage
was obliged to halt, and the coachman
called out to ask what was the matter.
At least twenty voices hastened to sat
isfy his curiosity, but the count and
countess could only make out that
Santa Elena had something to do with
it, fpr "Santa Elena" funded like a
Lattlc-cry above the wild confusion of
tongues.
Now a door opened in the high wall
of the house and out stepped a portly
priest.
The excited crowd rushed up the
steps and pushed the old gentleman
back against the door, which had been
closed behind him. A hundred voices
called out a question, then stopped to
hear his answer.
The old priest shrugged his shoul
ders and said, shaking his head,
"Nothing can be done. He is as stub
born as a donkey."
Then rose such a howl of rage that
even the Neapolitan carriage horses —
well used to such demonstrations
shied violently.
Fists were shaken In the air and a
few stones thrown at the small win
dows in front of the house, but at last
the old priest managed to make him
self heard again, and finally succeeded
In dispersing the crowd. The Golden
Eagle was only a few steps away and
the young couple soon reached it in
safety.
The stout little round-faced host re
ceived his distinguished guests with
the utmost cordiality, and led them
through a little orange garden and up
a stairway, to the lodging assigned
them. It was a lofty, vaulted room,
with glass doors at either end. The
scanty furniture was old-fashioned and
rickety, and a slight odor of dust and
mould filled the dim, cellar-like apart
ment. The count found this ancient
banqueting hall far more attractive
than the finest rooms in u modern
hotel, but Lenore shrugged her shoul
ders, and sniffed suspiciously about.
"It is more like a potato cellar than a
bedroom," said she, "ami looks as If
it had not been dusted since the lasi
century. Pah! how stifling!"
Half an- hour afterward the host
came and escorted them to supper,
which was well cooked and daintily
served. The fat, curly-headed host
waa also cook and waiter. Count
Dietrich made up for his wife's silence
by a lively conversation with the
landlord, and after praising the excel
lent supper, asked for an explanation
of the popular disturbance which he
had witnessed.
"Ah, you mean the scene before
No velll's house," unswered Curly
bead, "may the plague take —beg par
don, slgnore. The people have good
cause to be angry with this Slgnor
Novelll. The worst of It Is that be Is
not only the cloth merchant, banker,
usurer, and cut-throat Novell!, but he
is also our podesta (mayor). If it
were not for that, you would prob
ably have seen him hung over his own
doorstep."
"Ah, per BaccO! this begins to be In
teresting," said the count.
"Well, your excellency must know
that the day after to-morrow, the 22d
of May, is the feast of St. Elena, our
patron saint, and there are not many
little towns in Italy which can boasi
such a celebration as ours on her fete
day. People flock here from all the
country round. It costs us hard work
and a great deal of money to do honor
to our most holy patroness, but we
have good reason to make a special
effort, for our church Is lucky enough
to possess an ancient treasure which
is the envy of all Christendom. It IH
a solid silver bust of the saint, set
with precious stones, and with a gol
den crown upon her head. Our bishop
has an old document which he will
show you if your excellency cares "
"Not particularly," said the count,
smiling. "I would rather hear what
Signor Novell! has to do with your St.
Elena."
"Ah," said the little man, "that Is a
story! I am ashamed to be fellow
citizen to such a God-forsaken villain.
Our cathedral dates back to Saracenic
times, and Is naturally rather out of
repair, and experts have pronounced
it unsafe. But, as we are very poor,
we trusted to the dear Lord's protec
tion and t. Elena's intercession, till
a large stone fell from the wall and
killed an old woman. Then, of
Course, we took up the matter in ear
nest. The people gave all they could,
and his holiness, the pope, added
something - ; hut it fell far short. Then
Novell! offered to make up the defi
ciency, if wo would make him podesta
and give him the saint's bust as se
curity. Of course we had to accept
his terms. Money is power all the
world over, and the devil is in every
gold-piece. So, God forgive us, Sig
nor Novell! has the key of the saint's
shrine, and will only give it up when
his interest is paid. We have man
aged to pay it for five years, but these
are hard times. Our cloth factory is
closed, and the taxes are heavy, so we
are still about 1,000 lire short, and
Novelll, the hard-hearted wretch, will
not give us the key. The women ar*l
the priests have tried to influence him
through his young wife —the most
beautiful little woman in all the coun
try rourvi, and a perfect angel—of
course, a man can buy anything with
money—the old ruffian is desperately
fond of her, but even Signora Elena
can do nothing with him when there
is money in question.
"Only think! she is named for our
saint, but that makes no difference to
him, the old scoundrel."
"And what becomes of the festa,"
said the count, "Could not you pay
your interest out of the money you
have raised for that?"
"Ah, your excellency does not know
our people," said Curly-head. "The
band must play- and the fireworks
must be set off, or we might expect a
little revolution. T/ne worst part of
the whole affair, excellency, is the mor
tification, for strangers will flock here
and ridicule us because we have
pawned our saint and cannot redeem
her. Devil take the podesta."
"Amen!" added the count, then light
ed a cigar and strolled out for a lonely
walk by the sea-shore, while his wife,
pleading fatigue, went to her room
and tried to forget her heartache over
a French novel.
Early the next morning the count
opened the door and stepped out on
the balcony which looked out toward
the sea. His wife was still asleep
and the young husband, as he bent
over her, could hardly refrain from
waking her with a kiss. But he must
not be weak and so lose the upper
hand for life.
Count Dietrich gazed gloomily out
upon the smiling heavens and the pret
ty old town bathed in sunshine; bit
his lip and tugged nervously at hlv
mustache. How happy they might
be if only this self-willed young cren
lure—How would it all end? And yet
•very day he was mor& and more in
love with her.
He paced slowly up and down the
broad balcony, then went on tip-toe
back into the room. Lenore was
iwake and her eyes were full of tears,
lie saw that, though she turned her
head away.
"Good morning. Lenore. Will you
not at least say good-morning to me?"
"Good-morning."
That was all. He stamped his foot,
got his field-glass and went out
again slamming the door behind him.
The distant sounds of the gay south
ern street-life filled the fresh morning
air. Children's voices came shrill
from some quarter near at hand and
when he turned his glass In that di
rection, he saw, on a flat roof, per
haps fifty feet distant, three lovely
hildren, from three to six years old.
The youngest, an exquisitely beauti
ful child, was kicking and crying fur
iously in his little sister's arms and
she tried in vain to quiet him. A door
opened and out came a young girl in
'a loose wtyite gown, over which fell
her luxurious black hair. She took
the crying child In her arms, wiped
his eyes, kissed him and danced about
with him till he quieted down. Then
she came to the edge of the parapet
and pointed out to the little one all
sorts of things to divert his mind.
If Count Dietrich had admired the
child, he was enraptured with the
lovely face which glowed in tender
freshness from Its frame of coal-black
hair. Through his glass he could see
even her white teeth and the dimple
in her round, cheek when she smiled.
Now she turned and looked directly
at him. Heavens, what eyes! Alas,
she saw him looking at her and went
quickly Into the house with the child
in her arms.
i ne two children came and looked
over the parapet at the blonde foreign
gentleman. The children laughed and
ran away. The young woman came
out again, this time with her hair
carefully arranged. She looked at
him smilingly, then seated herself al
her sewing, while the children played
about her. It was so charming a
sight, that the count quite forgot his
heartache and even that he was hun
gry for breakfast.
CAME OUT AGAIN.
A hand was laid on his arm and he
started like a sinner caught in the act.
"What interests you so much V
asked Countess Denore in a cold, in
different tone.
The count was annoyed and spoae
with exaggerated admiration his
charming neighbors, thinking to
arouse her Jealousy.
The countess looked through the
glass, then said, turning away.
"Strange taste! Shall we not go
down to breakfast?" .
He made her a formal little bow and
accompanied her to the guest-room
below.
"Don Pasquale," said he to the host,
"there is a raving beauty in your
neighborhood. Are there many such
pretty girls in your town?"
Curly-head bowed and said, "Your .
excellency is very kind. We have in
deed some pretty girls, but I do not
know which of them lives near here."
Count Dietrich described the locality
and had hardly mentioned the three
children, when Don Pasquale inter
rupted him:
"Ah, it must be Signora Novell! her
self."
"But she looks like a girl of six
teen."
"Quite true; she looks very young,
but It ntust be the signora, for all the
other women in the house are old."
"Corpo-dl-Bacco!" cried the count en
thusiastically, "then I solemnly swear
that for a kiss from that angel, I will
gladly pay the thousand lire out of
my own pocket to her skinflint of a
husband."
"Your excellency must be Joking,"
said Don Pasquale incredulously.
"And your joke Is In rather bad
taste," murmured the countess in Ger
man.
Count Dietrich pretended not to henr
her remark and insisted that his offer !
was made in all seriousness. The I
guest who was willing to give one !
thousand lire for a kiss, went up sev- ;
eral degrees in Don Pasquale's esti- ,
mation, and shortly after the count I
found him in close conversation at the
door with several portly old men. Don .
Pasquale approached him at once and 1
whispered that these dignitaries had J
just returned from another interview ;
with the podesta, but all in vain, j
"Ready money and nothing but ready j
money could get the key out of his |
pocket." "Are we really to under- ]
stand," added Don Pasquale , "that I
your excellency was in earnest about
the kiss?"
"I give you my word of honor."
Don Pasquale's first step was to tell
the chief dignitaries of the town of the
munificent stranger's offer. How as
tonished they were! one thousand lire
for a kiss. These foreigners must be
out-and-out fools! But then, what a
piece of good luck for their dear fa
therland, that they were such fools!
If the fair Elena would only consent!
And why not? The German was a
gentleman and really a much more
agreeable person to kiss than grizzled,
unshaven, old Novell!. Was it
not her bounden duty, too, as wife of
the principal citizen, to make a little
sacrifice in honor of the most holy Em
press Elena! so off they set for the
house of the wicked holder of the key.
They broke up in f o parties of two,
and gained access to the gardens and
roofs of the houses near Donna Elena's
—two old men on the right, two on the
left, and the third couple—one ol
whom was Don Pasquale—at the back
of the house.
The wily Don Pasquale, with his
•ompanion's help, climbed one of the
largest trees near the garden wall.
This brought him to the height of the
roof of Novelli's house, but he could
not look over the parapet. He began
to call cautiously, "Pst—hello—hello!"
And as he paused to listen, with out
stretched neck, all eyes and ears, he
heard to the right and left, a low
"Pst—pst." His confederates were
also at work. Then something white
appeared over the edge of the parapet.
With a bold leap Don Pasquale sprang
to .the ground and crouched with his
companions against the wall. He had
seen the podesta, the old gallows-bird!
"What is it? Who's there? Look
out, you bad boys, I'll catch you!"
shrieked the old man, while the guilty
six stole cautiously away. A few min
utes later they met in the street and
scratched their heads.
What now? They finally decided to
apply directly to the highest clerical
authority.
The worthy Padre Sebastiano could
hardly refaln from a right worldly
expression, so great was his surprise.
They had to assure him again and
again that the distinguished foreigner
was not joking.
Finally, he leaned back in his chair,
crossed his legs, took a pinch of snuff,
and gave the matter his serious con
sideration, while the worthy messen
gers gazed anxiously at him, trying to
read his thoughts. Then Padre So
bastiano pushed his beretta over his
left ear, and with uplifted eyebrows
thoughtfully scratched the right side
of his head, then folded his hands
across his little round stomach and
began to twirl his thumbs. Then a
corner of his mouth began to twitch,
as he thought of the various sacrifices
made for the good of the church, by
holy women in ancient and modern
times, and at last the old gentleman
broke out in a hearty laugh.
"A most absurd story!" cried he,
rubbing his hands. "As you know,
my friends, the lord bishop comes to
morrow. We must try and get bus
iness settled before he comes. I think
I will undertake It. The good bishop
will absolve me. Dear me, what does
the proverb say: 'A kiss given in
honor harms nobody.' And If it
should serve to liberate our holy pat
roness! Old Novelll will certainly
give in when he sees the money."
"Oh, Holy Pity!" cried one of the old
men, aghast. "Reverend sir, you are
not thinking of making the proposi
tion to the podesta himself?"
"Yes, why not?" answered the priest.
"He is the lord and master of Slg
nora Elena's lips."
"Then all is lost," said Don Pas
quale, in distress. "His avarice Is
great, but his Jealousy is greater. I
know what I am talking about, rev
erend father!" and the five old men
nodded assent. Then Padre Sebas
tiano became very serious,
"So you want me to treat with the
fair lady herself; ah-ha," he took an
other pinch of snuff, reflected a little,
then started to his feet with a com
ical sigh, and said,
"Cod help me! so I am going to make
a go-between of myself in my old
days! But what will not a man do for
his patron saint. I may as well start
at once."
The old men looked relieved, for it
was well known that Padre ebas
tlano, with his gentle, coaxing ways,
could wind the women around his
finger.
Padre Sebastiapo put on his njjweHt
Sunday cassock, brushed his hat with
special care and started off. He chose
the least frequented streets, so that no
one might detain him on the way, and
also that he might reach the podesta's
house unobserved. His plan of op
eration was, however, not very clear
to him. More than once he stood
still to think it over. Tils mind was
so occupied that before he knew it Tie
found himself on a terrace overlooking
the Novelll's back-building. He could
see £ignore Elena at her needle-work
and her little ones playing about. By
a round-about way Padre Sebastiano
reached the wall of the same fruit
garden where Don Pasquale had lain
in ambush. The whole neighborhood
seemed deserted, so he might venture
to try and attract Signora Novelli's
attention. To be sure, he was rather
afraid of spoiling his new cassock, and
besides —what if any one should see
him! He laughed softly to himself:
"Ah, saints in heaven, I certainly
never dreamed of playing suoh boylsn
pranks in the service of my blessed
patroness!"
Then he began to make cautious ef
forts to attract Signora Elena's at
tention. but in vain. Becoming impa
tient. he plucked an orange and throw
it or. th roof.
immediately there arose a loud,
childish outcry. Oh, gracious powers!
had he in his holy zeal hurt one of the
innocent youngsters? He would be In
a pretty predicament if the cross
grained podesta should accuse him of
assault and battery. Fortunately,
however, the fruit was ripe and soft.
Then he heard the mother's soft
voice soothing the child; the next mo
ment Signora Elena's lovely face
peeped over the parapet, trying to find
out who had been guilty of so malic
ious an action.
She began scolding in an absurdly
soft, childish voice. "Who was that?
You haughty boy! I'll " But she
got no further, for she caught sight of
the good padre, her reverend confessor,
a comical looking object, perched m
the green tree-top, smiling up at her
rather sheepishly and gesticulating
eagerly with his walking-stick.
"Good-day. my daughter!" said he in
a loud whisper. "I must positively
speak to you without your husband's
knowledge. Are you sure that no
body is listening?"
"No, no indeed, father!" answered
her sweet voice plaintively. "I ain
never safe from him anywhere and es
pecially to-day. He thinks that therv
was somebody in that tree before, try
ing to attract my attention. Was that
you too, father?"
"No. no, my daughter; that was Pas
quale, the curly-head."
"Oh, merciful saints!' cried the lit
tle woman, quite besldr* herself.
"What can they want of me?"
"A kiss, my little pigeon; only a
kiss." whispered Padre Sebastiano
with a roguish smile. Her childish
terror made her look so charming,
that he could not resist the tempta
tion to add to the little woman's be
wilderment. Then she stood with
wild eyes and open mouth; the crim
son blood rushed to her face; then she
uttered a low cry and vanished.
After a while she came back and
eeped shyly over the parapet. The
reverend father had been sucking an
orange to while away the time and had
not seen her return. When he heard
her voice he started and answered with
his mouth full of orange juice, "Yes.
indeed, my daughter, I am still here.
Why did you run away In such a hur
ry?"
"Oh, I am so dreadfully frightened.
Suppose somebody should hear us. He
follows me about everywhere and the
servants ar* not to be trusted. But it
is not right for you to make fun of a
poor woman like me!"
Padre Sebastiano answered eagerly:
"But I am not in fun. What 1 said
is in sober earnest. Can you not
come down into the garden, child, so
that I can tell you about it?"
"No, no, impossible. All the doors
•ire locked. But he has given me per
mission to go to church this evening."
"Alone?"
"Yes, alone. He fs not going. He is
afraid of the people, proud as he is."
"Very well, I shall rely upon your
coming;" said Padre Sebastiano grave
ly. "for, let me tell you, Santa Elena's
ransom depends on you and you alone.
God bless you, my child!" and with a
kindly smile he climbed down from his
perch.
A quarter of an hour later, he
knocked gently at the door of the
count's apartment.
The count had returned from his
walk warm and dusty, and stood at
the washstand In his shirt sleeves.
He thought that Don Pasquale was
knocking to announce dinner, so called
out, "Come in!" and in came good
Padre Sebastiano with a polite bow.
'Ah," was the count's first thought,
"that chatterbox of a landlord has
brought the clergy to my ears. Now
I suppose this reverend father will
point out to mo the exceeding impro
priety and sinfulness of my offer, and
show me how a miserable heretic like
myself can earn the church's blessing
and St Elena's thanks by spending
one thousand lire, leaving the kiss out
of the bargain, however."
He was so confused that his knowl
edge of Italian deserted him, and his
apologies for his incomplefe toilet as
well as his inquiries as to what had
procured to him the honor of so unex
pected a visit, were a jumble of sov
erAl different tongues.
The reverend gentleman was also
embarrassed and their mutual apolo
gies would never have come to an end,
if the countess had not come from the
balcony and invited Padre Sebastiano
to take a scat
She sat down opposite him smiling,
and opened the conversation in the
most matter of course tone of voice,
by the question, "I suppose you have
come about the kiss, reverend father?"
Padre Sebastiano looked in amaze
ment from the count to his beautiful
young wife, and at last managed to
say: "Yes, of course—l mean—Signor
Pasquale told me that your excel
lency Does the signora know
about it?"
"Yes, certainly," said the countess,
smiling. My has no secrets
from rne. I think it is a charming
idea."
The count, with his red face burled
In a towel, could not help muttering,
."Well, upon my word!"
The count did not know whether to
laugh or to be angry. He was dis
gusted with the whole affair. If his
wife took that view of it, the whole
joke was spoiled.
The countess went on cheerfully:
"And you think that the young woman
will consent to the kiss?"
The reverend father blushed like a
bashful boy, and answered, shyly,
"Yes; I do not see why she should re
fuse. Your husband, contessa, is by
no means repulsive—J—J—mean "
"Thank you," said the count, bow
ing politely, us he tied on a clean cra
vat.
"And then the most important con
sideration is, that the kiss is given for
our dear saint. Otherwise I should of
course have had nothing to do with
the mutter."
Concluded on Thursday. *
HANDY THING TO HAVE. |
No Houso Should Ba Without a
Feather Duster Holder.
r.iiiily .'Tiulo if the Instructions (liven Be
low Are Carried Out—But >t Few
Cents Needed to Buy the
Material.
The feather brush is as popular as
ever as a useful ornament for a draw
ing-room, an l there is, therefore no ex- '
cu::o I) be made for duflt upon brackets, |
pictures or knickknacks of any sort.
The holder shown here is, as seen from
the sketch, by no means elaborate, and
FEATHER DUSTER HOLDER.
most of the effect depends upon the
colors and materials employed for it.
Of course it is made up on a founda- ,
tion of stout cardboard, which is cut j
Into a diamond shape and used with j
one point uppermost, the brush being |
slipped into a loop specially made for j
It. Cut a piece of moire, or of satin, or
velvet, or plush, for the front, just
about one-half inch larger all round
than the cardboard. Cut also a band
of buckram about two inches wide,
and three inches longer than will
stretch acrose the diamond horizontal
ly from point to point. Cover this buck
ram with or velvet to accord with j
the rest of the covering, and line the
middle of this hand with a scrap of
silk; the ends need not be thus lined.
Sew a number of little imitation gems,
or large spangles, at equal distances
along the center of this band, and add
some small pompons or drops of some
kind to the lower edge. Lay this band ;
across the center of the satin from
point to point, sew it down firmly at
each end from the wrong side, but
leave the exact middle of the band
slack so that the handle of the brush
will slip easily into it. The reason for
lining the middle part of the band is
now obvious.
Now stretch the satin very tightly
over the cardboard, drawing the raw
edges together on the wrong side with
lacing stitches of strong thread. Be j
careful to get the band in the middle !
quite straight, for the holder will be
anything but ornamental if this is
crooked. It is as well to add tho cord
round the edges below the band, the
bow at the tip of the point, and the ring
to hang the holder up by, before lining
the back neatly with sateen or a piece
of plain silk.
It is quite possible to make up the
feather brush itself at home, if the
worker is anxious for the whole thing
to be of her own workmanship, or if
she happens to have a number of fancy
feathers that she would like to use up.
A "turned" stick is needed, which may
either be gilded or enamelled. Take
the shortest of the feathers and arrange
them with the tips downward round the
lower edge of the stick. Tie them firmly 1
in place with some fine twine, and glue
this well to prevent it from coming un
tied. Add a second set of feuthers
rather longer than the others, and se- J
cure them also with fine twine, gluing ,
this as before. Continue this until the
brash is full enough, and hide the ends
of the last sot of feathers with a "sugar
paper" shaped piece of velvet, secured
hero and there with a touch of glue, and
having a band of wide gold braid tacked
round the upper edge to hide the place '
whore tho velvet and stick meet. The '
lower edge of the velvet should be van
dyked. It is a good plan to use kid or 1
leather instead of velvet, and there,
should bo no difficulty in getting this
of a good and suitable color, as many
bookbinders will dispose of scraps left
over from their own work.
Mais for tho T.iblo.
It is too bad t have one's polished .
tables and stands covert:d with little
•rings where a va.se has stood und the
water has overflowed. There is no
need of this, either. Everybody should
have on hand an abundant supply of 1
tli s-.e mats. Til esq need not be obtru
sive in design. In fact, no one wants
any more the elaborate confection that
were once wont to call attention to
their crocheted splendors in our draw
ing rooms. Make the latter-day vase
mats of small rounds of olive-green
felt, preferably not ornamented nt all
except for a "pinked" border. No one
will notice them, but they will lcccp
your rosewood and mahogany from 1
harm. j
ruiictualify IH a Virtue. | J
The habit of being always a little 1
late Is so general that it might seem I
unavoidable, were it not that punctu- | "
ality is secured from the very persona ' |
at fault when the occasion.", are as '
guarded us in the wedding to which 1
the foolish virgins failed to gain ad-!
mission because "the doors were shut." j
It is better to truin up children to
order, punctuality, honesty in keeping i
engagements, as a pa ft of keeping one's |
word, and so teach them not only self- j
reliance, but make them men and j
women on whom reliance may be
placed. * I
Why Women chow Gum,
Homo one buying chewing yum at a
candy shop lately began to apologize
tor tho plebeian purchase: "Oh, wo
don't think anything about it any
iflorc," replied tho saleswoman. "So i
many women chew pum for dyspepsia j
that wo always take It tor granted j
that that Is why it is wanted."
What
We Are Now
Doing for You!
| Selling dress gingham at 5c per yard.
Plaid dress goods, 5c per yard,
sterling calicoes, 41c per yard.
! Remnant calicoes, 4c per yard.
1 Remnant outing flannels, 41c per yard.
Remnant linings, 4c per yard.
I White cambric, 8c per yard.
Homespun blankets, 75c per pair,
j Gruy blankets, 09c per pair.
1 All-wool blankets, S2.OU per pair,
j Horse blankets, $1.25 per pair.
Sheeting, two and one-hull* yards wide, 17c
' per yard.
I Good muslin, 5c per yard; twenty-one yards,
SI.OO.
j Good quilts, 50c each.
I Roys' suits, SI.OO.
; TJ" nderwear
"Very Clieap.
I Men's fine calf shoes, $1.75; worth SO.OO.
Indies' shoes, from SI.OO up.
Boys' overcoats, five to thirteen years, $1.25.
The best bargain of all! Selling fifty-cent
dress goods for 25c for the balance of this
month.
Good double shawls, $2.50.
Denver shawls, $3.25.
Lace curtains, 40c; worth 75c.
Children's grain shoes, numbers ten to two,
SI.OO.
Wall paper very cheap.
All colors of window shades, 25c.
Curtißp poles, 20c each.
Furniture and carpets. Look at this! A good
couch, $4.00; letter, $4.50 up to $15.00.
A large oak bedroom suit, eight pieces, $25.00.
Large center tables, solid ouk, $1.25 to $3.50.
We carry complete lines
of all kinds of furniture,
and will give ten per
cent off to cash buyers.
Did you see our $10.75 oak side boards?
Carpets, from 25c u yard up.
G-rcceries and.
Prcvisicns.
Six bars Lenox soap, 25c.
Six pounds oat meal, 25c.
Five pounds ginger cukes, 25c.
Two cans salmon. 25c.
Five cans corned beef, SI.OO.
Good oolong tea, 25c; live pounds, SI.OO.
Four pounds good raisins, 25c.
Three pounds mixed cu'ies, 25c.
Four pounds oyster biscuits, 25e.
Soda biscuits, by the barrel, 44c.
Yours truly,
_ J. C. BERNER.
CITIZENS' BANK
OF FREELAND;,
CAPITAL, - $50,000.
OFFICERS. '
Joseph Birkbeck, President.
H. C. Koons, Vice President.
11, R. Davis, Cashier.
Charles Dusheck, Secretary. , #
DIRECTORS.-Jos. Birkbeck, TL C. Koons,
Thos. Hirkbeck, A. Rudowick, John Wagner,
Chart. Dusheck, John llurtou, Michael Zemany.
Three per cent. Interest paid on saving
deposits.
Open daily from 9a.m. to 3 p. m. Saturdays
elote at 12 noon. Open Wednesday evening*
from 6 to 8.
Dr. H. WTMONROE,
Dentist.
Located permanently in Birkbeck brick,
second floor, rooms 1, 2 and 3, over Smith's
shoe store, Freeland, I'a.
Gas and ether administered for the pain
less extraction of teeth. Teeth filled and ar
tificial teeth inserted.
Reasonable prices and
ALL WORK GUARANTEED.
d. Goeppert,
proprietor of the
Washington House,
11 Walnut Street, above Centre.
The best of whiskies, wines, gin cigars, etc.
Call in when in that part of the town.
Fresh Beer and Porter on Tap.
CHEAP WATCHES.
A Chance to Get
a Good Watch.
Wehrtnan, the reliable watchmaker, is sel
ling watches at the lowest prices. Clocks,
jewelry, etc., are all away down. This is
your opportunity to purchase first-class goods
at extraordinary low figures. Call now.
REPAIRING OF ALL KINDS.
CONDY 0. BOYLE,
dealer in
Liquors, Wine, Beer, Etc.
The llnest brands of domestic and
♦ imported whiskey on sale at his new
and handsome saloon. Fresh Roches- fa
ter and Ballentine beer and Ycung
ling's porter on tap.
Centre - Street, - Five - Points.
- - - $1.50 - - -
"V7"ill Bring- You
tire TxiTo-ctne
For - - a - - "Fear.
I Anthracite coal used exclusively, insuring
; cleanliness and comfort.
j ARRANGEMENT OF PASSENGEB TRAINS.
HAT' 19r IBM.
, LEAVE F6EELAND.
| 803, 885, 9 83. 1Q 41 am. 1 35, 8 87, 8 40, 4 55,
5 60. 6 58, 7 12, 8 57, 10 40 p m. for Drlfton,
I Jeddo, Lumber Yard, Stockton and Hazlcton.
6 05, 8 26. 933 a m, 1 85, 0 40, 4 66 p n\ for
Mauch Chunk. AUentown, Bethlehem, Puilu.,
Huston and New York.
6 05, 9 38, 10 41 ft m, 2 27, 4 55. 658 p in, for
Mnhanoy City, Hbenaudoah and Pottsville.
I 7 20, 10 50 am. It 6(1,4 34 p m, (via Highland
n ranch)for White Haven. Gtau&unnnlt* Wilkes
iiht'rt), Pitteton ana L. and B. Juoutkm.
SUNDAY TUAINB.
11 40 a m and 345 p m for Drtfton, Jeddo, Lum
ber Yard and HazJeton.
3 45 p m for Delano, Mhanoy City, Shenan
doah. New York and Philadelphia.
ARRIVE AT FREELAND.
5 50. 7 18, 7 28, 9 27, 10 56, 11 59 am, 12 68, 2 13,
4 34, 6 58, 8 47, 10 32 p ra, from Hazletou, Stock
ton. Lumber Yard, Jeddo and Drffton.
7 20, 9 19, 10 50 a m, 2 13, 4 34, 0 68, 10 32 p m.
from Delano, Mahanoy City and Shenandoah
I via New Boston Branch).
12 58, 6 40. 8 47, 10 32 p rti, from New York, Eas
ton, Philadelphia, Bethlehem, Allontowu und
Mauch Chunk.
9 27, 10 60 a m, 12 58, 5 40. 6 58, 8 47, 10 32 p m,
from Boston, Phila-, Bethlehem and'Mauch
Chunk.
9 33. 10 41 am,2 27,58pmfwm Whitenaven,
Glen Summit, Wilkes-B&rre, Pftteton and L. and
B. Junction (via Highland Branch).
SCNDAY TRAINS.
11 31 a m and 331 p m, from Hazlcton, Lum
ber Yard, Jeddo and Drtfton.
11 31 a m from Delano, Hazlcton, Philadelphia
and Cart ton.
i 331p ui from Doiaw© and Mahanoy region.
For further luformation Inquire of Ticket
Agents.
CHAS. B. LEE, Genl Pass. Agent,
Phila., Pa.
ROLLIN IHWILBI'R, Gen. Supt. East. Div.
, A. W. NONNEMACHER, Ass't G. 1. A.,
South Bethlehem, Pa .
THE DBLAWAHK, SUSQOTHIANNA AND
SOBITYLKILI. RAILROAD.
Time table In effect Juno 17. 1894.
Train, leave Drlfton for Jeddo, Eckley, Hnzlo
Brook, Stockton, Heaver Meadow Road. Roan
and Hazlcton Junction at 6 (JO, 6 10 a in, 12 (JU,
4 09 p m, dally except Sunday, and 7 U3 a in, 2 38
p in, Sunday.
Trains leave Drlfton for narwood. Cranberry,
Toinhlckcn and Deringer ut 60U a in, 12 09 p in,
daily except Sunday; und 7 03 a m, 2 38 p m,
Sunday.
Trains leave Drifton for Oneida Junction,
Harwood Road, Huml>o)dt Road, Oneida and
Shepptou uttt 10 a m, 12 09, 4 (W p m, daily except
Sunday; and 7 03 a in, 2 38 p m, Sunday.
Trains leave Hav.lutou Junction for Uurwood,
' Cranberry, Tomhicken and Deringer Hi 037 a
tu, 1 49 p in, daily except Sunday; and 8 47 a m,
4 18 p m, Sunday.
Trains leave Huzletnn Junction for Oneida
Junotiou, Harwood Road, Humboldt Road.
< incida and Sbeppton at 6 47, 9 38 a in, 12 40, 4 40
p m, daily except Sunday; and 7 40 a m, 308 p
in, Sunday.
Trains leave Deringer for Tomhicken, Cran
t>orry, Harwood, Unzieton Junction, Roan,
ileaver Meadow Roud. Stockton. lluzle Brook,
Eckley, Jeddo aud Drifton at 2 39, 607 p in,
daily except Sunday; and 9 37 a m, 5 07 p m,
Sunday.
Trains leave Sheppton for Oneida, Humboldt
Uoad, Uurwood ltoud, Oneida Junction, HDZlc
bon Junction and Roan at 8 31, 10 10 a m, 115,
> 25 p m, daily uxccpt Sunday; und 8 14 a in, 3 45
p in, Sunday.
Trains leuvo Sheppton for Beaver Meadow
Road, Stockton, Hazlc Brook, Eckley, Jeddo
and Drifton at 10 16 a ui. 6 25 p m, daily, except
Sunday; and 8 14 a m, 3 46 p m, Sunday.
Trains leave Haxleton Junction for Beaver
Meadow Road, Stockton, Hazle Brook, Eckley,
Jeddo and Drifton at 10 38 a ni, 3 10, 5 47, 038 p
in, dally, except Sunday; and 10 08 a m, 5 38 p m,
Sunday.
All trains connect at Hazlcton Junction with
electric care for Huzleton, Jeancuville, Auden
riod aud other points on Lehjgh Traction Go's.
U. K.
Trains leaving Drifton at 0 10 a m, and Shepp
ton at 8 31 a m, and 1 15 p in, connect at < h.ciuu
Junction with I. V. R. It. trains east ami west.
Train leaving Drifton at 0 00 a m makes oou
r nection at Deringer with P. It. R. truiu for
Wiikea-liarro, Suubury, Harrisburg, etc.
, EL B. OOXE, DANIEL COXE,
President. Superintendent.
FREELAND OPERA HOUSE.
JOHN J. WELSH, Manager.
' T-u.esd.a3r Evening,
N'ovsmber 20.
Madame (and her son) Augustin
NEUVILLE,
and a carefully selected company of
players in
THE BOY TRAMP.
WITH ITS WEALTH OF
1 Special Scenery,
Stage Settings,
Properties, Etc.
Prices: 25, 35 and 50 Cents.
Reserved scats three days in advance
at Christy's store.
Harness!
Harness!
Light Carriage Harness.
$5.50, $7, $9 and $10.50.
Heavy Express Harness.
$10.50, sl9, S2O and $22.
Heavy Team Harness,
double, $25, S2B and SBO.
GEO. WISE,
Jeddo and Freeland, Pa.
A new stock of blankets, lap
robes, buffalo robes, etc., just
arrived, are selling cheap.
ILLS SPECIFIC !
REGAINS AND MANTAINS
THE VITAL POWERS.
Cures NERVOUS DEBILITY,
LOSS OF VIGOR,
INSOMNIA and
GENERAL DEBILITY.
Caused by IMPRUDENT HABITS,
EXCESSES or OVER WORE.
PRICE, ONE DOLLAR PER BOX.
Pamphlet and Circular Free.
Sold by wholesale and retail druygixts in
PhiladelphiaPittsburg and Reading, or
sent by mail, sealed, on receipt of vionty.
Address HALL'S SPECIFIC COMPANY,
106 Lexington Avenue,
New York City.