THE SEA GULLS. Oh, the •weepinjf swing of the blue-pray winf Ah they circle before the eye, And the swerving dip of the breast a<J rip I Of the gulls that seaward fly I They hang and balance; they waver and float With an idle air and an aim remote, Then suddenly cleave the akv. And naught know we of their query or quest As they pause a breath on a blue wave's breast Or the secrets hid in the closing blue, Where they bail and sail and are lost to view. Oh, the fret and worry, the cark and care, 1 They stifle us here ashore. I Oh, to breathe aloft in the swift free air. Away from the world and its grim despair. To be fetterless evermore, 1 To follow to bournes of the fabled spring, | Where youth's gay fountains lisp and sing. And, oh, for the chance of that wild, free lane* Of a bird with a tireless wing! —Criterion. piißiiiij; T How the Scoffer Was Trebly 'J* ■j. Rewarded. J. t *l* —i* *1- '!• v rr •!• -F- •!♦ 4* Edmond de Verneuil had thrown him self into an easy chair wit it his chi bouk and, through the wreaths of smoke ascending from the fragrant weed, sat staring in astonishment at his friend. Louis Duvlvler. Neither of the men had spoken for some moments. At last De Verneull said, with a with ering look of pity: "And so you have really determined to throw yourself into the matrimonial sea. Poor, unfortunate man! I had hoped better things for you." "Thanks," replied Duvivier sharply. "Your compliment at least possesses the merit of not being banal. I an nounce to you my approaching mar- J riage with a charming girl whom I adore, ami you have nothing to offer but lamentations." "My friend," said De Verneull, plac ing his pipe on the inlaid taboret be side him. "1 never play the hypocrite. It. is a part I have always eschewed, and upon such a sorrowful announce ment I can only offer my most sincere condolence." Duvivier looked somewhat annoyed as he listened, but the shadow of impa- j tience soon passed away, and he de scribed in glowing terms the beauty of his young fiancee, Mile. Ilelene De achamps. "So much the worse," said the crusty bachelor. "Your case, which at first seemed only dangerous, is now incura ble, and your happiness, which appear ed probable, is now no longer possible. To have a pretty wife, sir, is to be de voured by jealousy." "Mile. Deschamps is wealthy and possesses a fortune in lier own right," calmly observed Duvivier, without commenting on his friend's remarks. I "Then, with her luxurious and ex- |' pensive tastes, she will simply ruin you, my dear fellow," retorted De Ver- i neuil. | 1 Rut Louis Duvivier did not intend to be disturbed by Edmond <le Ver neuil's bitter comments and followed the announcement of his fiancee's wealth by declaring that her mamma was charming. "Then you will have that bete noire, j a mother-in-law," growled De Verneull. "Your ruiu is complete, old fellow, and I haven't the slightest hope for you." i Duvivier laughed good naturedly and j assured De Verneull that, notwithstand- ! Ing ids paradoxes, he expected him to j be present at the wedding and to net as groomsman. "You are my oldest and best friend, Edmond," said he coax- ! ingly, "and for these reasons you ought uot to refuse my request." "And precisely for these reasons I I must decline," t&rtly responded De j Verneull, "for I should feel as though I were assisting at your electrocution." j "Then if you will not consent to act j as best man," said Duvivier, with genuine disappointment, "promise at least to be present at the wedding." De Verneull looked at liim for a mo ment without answering, lie was real ly fond of Louis Duvivier, and their friendship had been one of long stand ing. He disliked to appear uncivil, so finally he said, "Well, perhaps, but do uot count on my coming." "Decidedly!" exclaimed Duvivier, a little vexed. "You are still au antago nist to matrimony." "Irrevocably," was the laconic an swer of De Verneull. "Then you never intend to marry?" asked Duvivier. "I should prefer to send a bullet through my brain," promptly answered De Verneull. "Expeditious means are preferable to slow ones," he added em phatically. "Then you propose to remain always In solitary bliss?" said Duvivier laugh ingly. "Pardon me," said De Verneull, stop ping to fill his pipe, "you should say in dependent bliss. From a wife, children and family may heaven preserve me! For a wife," he continued, waxing elo quent, "means loss of liberty and the obligation of following her caprices in stead of your own. You must go out when you desire to remain in and re main in when you wish to go out. At table you must eat inadaine's dishes Instead of those you prefer yourself, listen with an interested air to a lot of insipid gossip plentifully sprinkled with the latest hints in the fashions of bon nets and hats and meekly receive re proaches, recriminations and Jealous suspicion. And children! Why, my dear Louis, the very sight of an infant brings on an attack of indigestion! And when they grow up, if they are boys, j they devour your money by getting In to all kinds of scrapes, and If they are girls they must he dowered before they can be got rid of. So, with Cyra no, I say, 'No, thank you!' And then that other delightful appendage of mat rimony. a mother-in-law! Why, the very thought of her makes me shudder. ( Now you have in a nutshell, my dear boy, the wise reasons which prevent me from committing the folly of matri- I mony. And with a deliciously self satis fied air the sage, crusty bachelor sank Into the hollow of his easy chair and, puffing away at his pipe, waited to hear what his friend had t< say. Rut Duvivier remained silent, and the cheerful expression on his bright, handsome fare clearly indicated that the sorrowful picture of matrimony painted by De Verneuil had failed to impress him. The latter noted the failure of his words and determined to make one more effort. Rising from his chair, he stationed himself before the mantelpiece and, half confidentially, half affectionately, begged Duvivier to save himself while there was yet time. "Brother," said he, "the other day. while crossing the Font Royal, I saw a man on the point of throwing him self into the Seine, when a policeman seized him by the lapel of Ills coat and pulled him back. 1 would do the same for you, Edmond," pleaded De Ver neuil earnestly, "pull you back while Uiere is yet time from the troubled waters of matrimony." But Duvivier only shook his head In answer as he announced gayly his com ing marriage to Mile. Hclene De schamps on the 17th of May. "Helena—a name of ill omen!" growl ed De Verneull. with disgust. "Well, then, if you insist—go to the devil—or the hymeneal altar, which is one and the same thing." Edmond de Verneuil was fast gallop ing out of his thirties, and the princi ples which he had just laid down were those which had governed his entire life and kept him a bachelor in spite of the tempting opportunities which had come in his way and which he had repulsed with horror. A few years back be had been considered one of the handsomest men in Paris, and even to day liis refined air and well groomed person made him a marked figure in his drives through the Bois. which he took with clocklike precision. Rich, clever and well known in the fashiona ble world, he had received innumera ble hints from designing mammas and the sweetest smiles of encouragement from their eligible daughters. To the first he had always been delightfully gracious, particularly when their ad vances assumed the form of excellent dinners, but totally indifferent to the latter, scarcely deigning to notice their fresh young faces. Willi advancing years the dinners and smiles had ceas ed, but De Verneuil hardly felt their absence. Indeed he congratulated him self with pride upon having escaped the many ambushes laid by these daughters of Eve to entrap him. Su premely content in his bachelor bliss, he lived entirely alone in his elegant apartment, as free as a bird on the mountain tops, following his own sweet caprices, amusing himself with what pleased him and avoiding all that was irksome or tiresome. Shut up se cure in his egotistical citadel, which he had built and fashioned with his own hands, he fancied himself the happiest of mortals in existence. One morning shortly after Duvlvier's visit, as he sat at the window content edly smoking his pipe, he was tempted by the inviting March sunshine to take a promenade along the boulevard, but tlie treacherous March sun had deceiv ed him, and before he had gone very far he began to feel chilled beneath his light overcoat, while an unwelcome sneeze foretold a cold in the head. Like all egotists, Edmond de Verneuil was painfully careful of his health, so he immediately dropped into a cafe and ordered a smoking hot punch to ward off if possible the disastrous effects of the chilly air. While he sat languidly sipping his drink his eyes rested on a highly colored placard on tin? opposite wall representing a series of enchant ing views on the Mediterranean ami under them this inscription: TO THE BLUE COAST. Express trains to < mines, Nice and Monaco. The journey made in 17 hours. The blue sky. the blue sea, the warm southern sunshine, the gorgeous flow ers of Nice and the perfume of the or ange trees all appealed to De Ver neuil's icsthetlc fancy. "There, at least," he thought, "I shall be safe from Influenza." And immediately he made up his mind to go to Nice. That very night his trunks and valises were packed and strapped by his trust worthy valet, IMerre, and the next morning Edmond de Verneuil strutted about nervously in a luxurious com- I partment of the Nice express after hav i ing selfishly strewn his hand baggage I over the unoccupied seats in the hope of securing the entire compartment to himself. But complete happiness does not be long to this mundane sphere, and in tlio twinkling of an eye De Verneull's hopes of solitude were shattered by the arrival of a phlegmatic Englishman who, without asking any questions and with that Impassible air which distin ! guishes the traveling Briton, deliber ately removed the valises and installed 1 himself in their place. The Parisian was tempted to protest, but a moment's | reflection convinced him that this was ! bad policy, for he had no right to re ! serve the entire compartment for his , own use. So the crusty bachelor con tented himself by an inaudible growl. Hardly had he recovered from his first | disappointment, however, when the : compartment was again invaded by a handsomely gowned elderly lady with ; a sweet, high bred, patrician face, ae i eompanied by a younger woman, whose pale gray traveling gown set off to ad vantage her wealth of blond hair, fair ' complexion and sympathetic blue eyes ; and holding by the hand a delicate boy ; of 5. A glance at the child immediately told De Verneuil that the little fellow was ill and probably going south In search of health, and while tne two women placed him tenderly on the cushions and tucked the light, warm ' Roman blanket around him De Ver i neuil growled again to himself. "A I charming voyage I shall have." I thought he, "with a phlegmatic Eng- I llshman and a sick child!" And lu disgust be left the compartment and went in search of another. But he soon returned in a worse humor, for the compartments were all filled. When the train started, the disgruntled bach elor threw open the window to let in the fresh March air. But the pretty woman in gray, in her low, sweet Eng lish voice, begged monsieur to close It, as she feared the air was too strong for her little boy, and I)e Verneuil, with the politeness of a true chevalier, compiled with her request. No sooner, however, had he doue so than the Englishman, who sat at the opposite end, opened the window near him. The two women looked implor ingly at their countryman, who pro tended not to see them. De Verneuil, more to annoy the traveling Briton than to be agreeable to the ladies, de liberately arose and closed It. The Englishman Immediately opened It, and l)e Verneuil started again to shut It. saying: "Please remember, sir, that we are not in an English camp in South Africa, but in France, where courtesy Is shown to women and chil dren. Madame fears the air for her sick child, so 1 hope you will allow the ; window to remain closed." The little speech produced its effect, though the gentleman from across the ; channel did not reply, but contented himself with opening very wide his eyes in amazement that a Frenchman should presume to give an Englishman a lesson in civility. The ladies of course were deeply grateful and duly express ed their thanks, and M. de Verneuil re turned to hia seat, experiencing a de lightful sensation which he rarely felt —the pleasure of having rendered a service to others—and as he resumed his seat in the corner he began to study the child, who during all the commo tion had remained quietly sleeping. The study fascinated him, and he fan cied he had never before seen a boy quite so beautiful; the slim, patrician nose and mass of yellow hair resem bled the fair young mother, who from time to time bent over him with an in terested expression of suffering 011 her pure, sweet face, as the baby chest was shaken by a dry cough, which even In sleep did not desert him. I)e Verneuil felt that lie was growing desperately interested in the boy, and as these 1 thoughts flitted through his mind the child tossed one of his Roman blankets i 011 tln floor, when he rushed forward, picked it up and tucked it around him. lie was amazed at his own tenderness and began to wonder where it would eventually lead. The ladies again ex pressed their appreciation in that soft, sweet English voice so much admired on tlie continent. At Dijon De Verneuil left the com partment, and when he returned ho brought with liim a large box of bon bons, which, with the mother's permis -1 sion, ho offered to the child. The candy delighted the little fellow; he grew animated and the color came again ! into his pale, emaciated little cheeks as he smiled with pleasure and fixed his great blue eyes on Edmund de Ver neuil wltli that profound depth of ex pression which children's eyes alone possess and which seems to hide a world of thought. The bonbons had opened the way for a conversation be tween M. de Verneuil and the ladies. Naturally the child's health became the absorbing topic, anil the interested ■ bachelor learned that madaine had lost her huaband three years before and that some weeks previous to their jour ney to France little Arthur had had a severe attack of bronchitis, which up 1 to date had defied the assiduous nurs ing of his mamma and grandmother. Therefore he hail been ordered by bis English doctor to spend the winter at Nice. "At Nice!" exclaimed De Verneuil, amazed to find the pleasure which the | coincidence gave him. "Why, I am going there myself," he said. Just then | the train drew up in tlie Lyons depot. De Verneuil alighted and soon returned | laden with picture books for his little j chance acquaintance. Arthur was de lighted with the colored prints and after looking a 1 them for some time sudden ly threw his books on the floor and, jumping 011 De Verneuil's lap, put his slender little arms around his neck ami kissed him. "Monsieur is good," he whispered, "and I love monsieur very much and want him to come anil stay at the villa where we are going." This spontaneous outburst of affec tion touched a strange chord in the bachelor's egotistical nature. "The boy really loves me," he said to him self, and so, instead of going to a little hotel, as he usually did, he stopped at the same pretty villa as the Barring tons, and every day the handsome Parisian and the pretty little English boy, with his blond curls flying in the breeze, spent hours together 011 the ' warm, sunny beach, and the bachelor was obliged to acknowledge, in spite of his prejudices, that he had never be fore found Nice quite so pleasant. Though he had not visited the casino, the theater or any places of amuse ment. the days and weeks had flown : by pleasantly and almost imperceptibly and with the mild air and warm south ern sunshine his pretty protege, Arthur Harrington, had regained his health, i and ids little legs had grown strong and round. A romp was now the order of the day, and one morning as De Verneuil, Mrs. Harrington anil Arthur sat in the pleasant sunsliiue on the vine covered veranda the boy suddenly sprang up from Ids toys and began to scream and dance. "You see, mamma," said he, bursting into a loud, merry laugh, "this is the way I play American Indian with monsieur." "But, ray clear son," protested his mother, "you are making such a dread ful noise." "Let him alone, my dear madame," Interposed De Verneuil. "I love to hear hi in ncream and laugh, for these are the privileges of childhood." But scarcely had the words escaped him whea he recalled his portrait of chil dren to Duvivler—and possibly through shame and to efface the unpleasant re membrance he caught the boy up In his arras and kissed him passionately. Arthur laid his pretty, dimpled face upon his shoulder, and his piping, child like voice begged monsieur to remain always with his mamma and grand mother. De Verneuil, usually so self possessed, felt the color mounting to his face as he cast a furtive glance at Mrs. Harrington, who suddenly appear ed to be absorbed In her book. Then in the twinkling of an eye he ran down the garden path, closely followed by Arthur. That evening a quiet walk beneath the stars settled the entire affair to the satisfaction of all. The child had won, and for this reason Etlmond de Ver neuil returned to Paris, in the bright month of May, accompanied by a fiancee, a prospective son and a future mother-in-law. As an ardent lover he had few equals, and, the young widow yielding to his pleadings, the marriage was fixed for an early date. Of course he did not attend Duvivier's wedding, for the very excellent reason that he had to be present at his own, but the next day he received from his friend the following note: My Dear De Verneuil—My warmest congratula tions for your masterly stroke; but, between our selves, I am as jealous as a Moor, for it is not the good fortune of every man to receive on the same day a wife, a ion and a mother-in-law. Always sincerely yours, DUVIVIER. —Adapted From the French For Argo naut. Lutz Sentenced to Death. Unless the higher courts or tlie Par don Board intervenes, John Lutz, who so brutally murdered his wife at West Plttston two years ago, will expiate his crime upon the gallows. Lutz was brought from jail on Mon day. and after Judge Ilalsey had read an opinion in which he refused to grant a new trial, the prisoner was called to the bar. Addressing the prisoner, Judge Ilalsey said: "John Lutz, have you anything to say before the sentence of the court is pronounced?" Lutz apparently did not understand the question of the court and looked inquiringly at his attorney, who repeat ed the court's words. Thou Lutz braced up and in clear tones he said: "Mrs. Mahler did the crime, not me. She and W. T. Richards and Constable Smith are the guilty parties." Ho was asked if he had anything else to say, but Lutz shook his head nega tively, whereupon Judge Ilalsey pro nounced the sentence of the court as follows: "John Lutz, you have been very ably defended and have had a fair trial, but the jury baa found you guilty. The sentence of the law I* that you bo taken from this court room to the county prison, and when the time fixed by the chief executive of this state for your execution shall havo arrived, you, John Lutz, be taken to the jail yard and ihere hanged by the neck until you are dead. And may the Lord have mercy on your soul." Lutz stood erect as the fatal words fell froui the lips of the court and his manner gave no s gnu of emotion. When the court had finished he went, over to the prisoner's corner, where he remarked to -his attorney: "It is not all over yet." The crime for which Lutz may have to answer with his life was committed at West Pitt&ton. Lutz had a quarrel with his wife early in tho evening and about midnight returned to the house and, going to a room occupied by Mrs. Lutz, her baby and a young daughter, attacked the sleeping woman with an axe, inflicting wounds which resulted in her death the next day. After the attack on the woman Lutz attempt d to take his own life by cutting his throat, but his courage evidently failed hiui. Lutz was tried twice for his erim , At the first trial the jury broke ail records by remaining out over two I weeks. When the jury finally returned j a verdict of guilty two of the jurors ! alleged that they had been coerced into | signing the verdict by their associates, and upon these grounds a new trial was granted. The second trial resulted in a verdict of guilty. CASTOR IA For Infants and Children. The Kind You Have Always Bought Bears the Signature of I Dyspepsia Cure Digests what you eat. It artificially digests the food and aids Nature in strengthening and recon structing the exhausted digestive or guns. It isthe latestdiscovereddigest ant and tonic. No other preparation ! can approach It in efficiency. It in stantly relievesand permanently cures ; Dyspepsia, Indigestion, Heartburn, Flatulence, Sour Stomach, Nausea, Side Headache, Gastralgia.Crampsand all other results of imperfect digestion. PrlcoSOc.andtl. Largo sizflcontnlns2H times small size. Book all about dyspepsia malledfree Prepared by E. C. DsWITT A CO' cpieago. ' (Jrover's City Drug Store. ' | Not at Half-Price | Nor Below Cost J* are our goods sold. We v couldn't remain in busi ness long if we followed anything else but busi ;; ness methods. We sell g Shoes for Men, Women and Children, g Hats and Caps for Men and Boys, % Furnishings for Men and Boys, n at prices which are as q cheap, and quite frequent -0 ly cheaper, than others q ask for the same quality. ** Give us a trial purchase K and let us convince you ** that here is a store where Ni your money can be spent A to your advantage. n y W g § McMENAMINS o 55 Gents' Furnishing, £* Hat and Shoe Store, 5s 86 South Centre Street. tki* 00 0* 0 * 0 n 0 \i ta gTX 0 St A o~\ 0 OXO Xoooo.fi- Vioooo 000X0000000 00000000 000000\000X\00jf0 Norma Sclioolj Kant Ktrocutphurg. Pa, Tho Wiui T term of this popular institution ! for ihe training of teacher* opens J ,n. 2, I*ol. Thif. practical training; school for teachers is located in the most healthful and charming part of the mute, wiihin ihe ?reat summer j resort region of (he fctnte, ou the main line of th.' I). }.. Sc W. Railroad. l T :i'XcelUd facilities; Music, Elocutionary, Colleye Preparatory, Sewing- and Modeling; depart incuts. Superior faculty; pupils coached free; pure mountain water; rooms furnished through out; GOOD BOARDING A RECOGNIZED FEATURE. We nre the only normul school that paid the state aid in full to all its pupils this spring term. Write for a catalogue and full information while, this advertisement is before you. Wo have something of interest for you. Address, GKO. P. BIBLE. A. M.. Principal. \The Cure that toes i (p Coughs, k\ \ Coidss, I I) Grippe, (k \ Whooping Couch, Asthma, ) Bronchitis and Incipient I cQ! Consumption, fa rotto-sl f cJUf^ THE GERMAN REMEDY* a\\ Wilkes-Barre Record la the Best Paper in Northeastern Pennsylvunia It contains Complete Local, Tele graphic and General News. Prints only the News thnt's fit to Print 50 Cents a Month. * DDBESS . $6 a Year by Mail The Record, or Carriers - - - WILKES-BARHS. PA. 1 Condy 0. Boyle, denier In LIQUOR, WINE, BEER, PORTER, ETC. The finest brands of Domestic and Imported Whiskey on sale. Fresh Rochester and Shen andoah Beer and YeunulingV Porter on tap. OH Centre street RAILROAD TIMET AfcLES DXLAWARK, SUSQUEHANNA AND SCHUYLKILL KAII.RO AD. 'lime table in effect Murcb 10.11101. , leuvo i > rift,on tor Jeddo, Kelt ley, ilazle '•ro k Stockton, Uoavor Meadow ltoad, Koun aid Hrzleton Junction at fi IXI a m. daily kwudi y; a d ■ 07 a in. 2 38 p in. Sunday. 1 rum- lea* e Driftoi. for Harwood.Oranlierry omhicki i and Dernier at 6i(j a m, daily ex opt Sunday; auu , .7 a in. 2oh p m. Sun iitui N loave Drifton for Oneida Junction. II ' wood Houd, Humboldt Koad, Oneida and heppton at dOO a in, da.iy exeept Sun day, aud < 0i * ra, 2 38 p tu. Sunday. • i. on. !*av Hazleton Jiuietion for llarwnod. uuberry, 101 luoken and beriiißei atti.'k. : i. daily except Sunday; aud a6Ba m, 4 nll unday H Train* leave Hazlcton Junction for Oneida in.eiion, Har'Tood Koad, Humboldt Head, neidi, HI id Shoppfcon at illl 10 a 111,4 41 p ra. coy ixcipt Suuduy; and 737 am, 311 pm. Trains leavo DoriUßor lor Tomhichon, Crar - berry , Hai wood, Ha/Jeton Junction and Itoi n at op 111, dally exocpr Sunday; auu •37 a m, > .17 p in Sunday. J raioj! leave sheppton tor Oneida, Humboldt ltoad, Jlarwood Koad, Oneida Junction, Hnzle ton Junction and Koan ut 7 11 am, iu 10, .'1 6 p m. Tally eteopt Sunday; and 8 11 a m, 3 44 p m, Sunday. Train-. leave Sheppton for Hearer Meadow liwle hrouk, Eckiuy, Jeddo * P., S-8 I' >, dully, ,-jicept Sunday; ,J ** l' u, Sunday 1 ruins ;HVO Huzleton Junction for Heaver Meadow ltoad, M, ktoo. Hail, Itrook, KckU-y. Jeduo aud Drifton at 640 p ra, daily, except Sunday, and 10 in a ra. 6 40 p m. Sunday: All tra ne connect at liazieton Junction with J.'Ji L V ? r Jeanesvillo, Auden rlod and otuei point* on the Traction C'ora un.\ K line Train loaviiiK Drifton at 6 (10 a m makes jouueetion wi uerinjrer with P it. it. trains for t l,krrl#bur f Hud poiuts Tf TMKR C SMITH. Hmi#rlntnlMit. I EiilUH VALLEY KAiLKUAJX ' Match 3, 1801. knaiUQSHUT or Paafsauan Thai*,. LEAVk FIIkSLANJ). 12 a ra for Wcathcrly, Mauck ckunk Alleutowii, liethirbcm. Kkaton, I'bila-' delphm, New York and Delano and Dullsville. 7 40 a m for Sandr Run, White Haven Wilkes-Karre, l'iltston and hcranton ' 3 13 ■ m for Ha/.lelou, Wealherly Mau'eh Pho'ialA 1 , 1 , 0 "'"? 1) Bethlehem,'Baalon, Philadelphia and New Vork 9 30 a 111 for llajleten, Mah.noyCity, Khon amloeu, * t. ( armel, Sharaokin 1 20 for Mauck Chunk, Al ph'ia aadNcw VorT' X " U ' n ' VM * M ~ ' 5 34 lh,|? *"f Sandy liun, White HkTen, Wrat ' scranton and " point, ' villc f ° r Haz,eton ' Belano and Potta- AUItIVB AT FREEHAND. 740 Ha/Jeton" Weathcr| J'. PotttTille and 9 17 lf,ar f A l 'in hllade 'l >h '*. Kaslon, Hcthle ncic, Allen town, Mauch Chunk, tVcath dr.ah ' lah ""°y City, Bhenan- Q orx tunnel and Shamokin. w'hitcTVlaven "" 1 011 ' w "ies-IJarre and 1 IS i> m from New York, Philadelphia Cblmkand^Weatberly' 8 34 Cio^Stth^rot^^onTo^'nf^l;: vllln, bliamokin. Mt. Curmel, Abnnnn ■7 00 '" uh ' r " lm "" v clt )' ■"! Hanleton. 7 : 0 u-w'tJiVJWu,: 1 """"' w " koB -" arrc and A^CM'S U,lh, r lnformat,on inquire of Ticket HOLLIN H.Wj Lpr II General Superintendent, OH \S s n'y a street. New York City. S * Ajrent, 20 f ortlandt Street New York fit* O. J. GILDKOY, Division Superintendent, ' ' Hazleton, Pa.
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