REED AND THE BARBER Ex-Speaker's Novel Experi ence In a Hotel. AN AMUSING OHAT WITH A NEGEO glow the Dig; Man From Maine Once Addressed a Talkative Tonaorftal Artist Who Tried to Draw INm Out—A Story of Ills Boyhood Days. Reply to a Car Conductor. Among the many stories told about ex-Speaker Thomas B. Reed the follow ing account of his experience In a bur ner's chair may prove of interest: Mr. Reed reclined In u hotel barber shop chair one afternoon looking like an aproned Buddha far plunged in con templation of the limitations of the in llnite, relates the Washington Post. In scrutability gleamed steadily from his penetrating eyes. He seemed to reck not that the burly, selflsli world was amove. lie gazed with a continuously focused gaze upon the knob of the bar ber shop door- whether attempting to hypnotize himself or to hypnotize the knob, who knows?—and he spake no word to the grinning black barber with teeth like peeled almonds who swept the scissors with zephyr touch through the colorless wisp of hair that faintly fringed the after part of the great man's skull. The disinclination of Mr. Reed to lie discursive was not accord ing to the barber's ideas of things. He attempted to draw the great man out, perhaps in order to bequeath a legacy of epigrams to posterity. The great man only grunted monosyllabic replies and resumed his reverie. Then the bar ber decided to switch the conversation to the subject of Mr. Reed's hirsute pe culiarities. "Yo' haluh's sut'nly thinnin' out a heap, sub." said he. "TJm-m!" said Mr. Reed. "Teenchy bit o' tonic do it whole lot o' good, suh." "Um-m! No." "Bin bald on de top o' yo' head long, suh?" Mr. Reed did not remove his gaze from the doorknob as he drawled: "I came into the world that way. Then I had an interval of comparative hirsute luxuriance, but it was not enduring. I have long since emerged from the grief of the deprivation. It no longer afflicts me. Do not permit it to weigh upon you." The black barber studied over this for awhile, apparently without fully apprehending its meaning, however. "Yo' haiulfd look some bettuh, suh, ef yo' kep' it long in de back laike," he said after a few moments of silence. Reed removed his gaze from the doorknob, fastened it upon the celling, cleared his throat and spoke again. "Let me assure you, my tonsorial friend," said he, "that the appearance of my hair, as I liuve beeu accustomed to wearing it, is eminently satisfactory to myself and, perhaps I might also say, to my constituents. What little hair still adorns my head I have pos sessed for a long time. I know it well. I have been on familiar terms with it for many years. I have inadvertently mingled spruce gum and chewing tar with it in my years of extreme youth. I have often sun dried it in order to present a proper not guilty appearance at home after surreptitious swimming expeditions. I have had it pulled the wrong way by boys whom I only learn ed to thrash afterward. At the same period of my life I even endured the ignominy of having it cut-in ascend ing tiers—by experimental maiden aunts. The consequence of all this Is that that bit of remaining hair and I are old and, I trust, inseparable friends. I indulge the hair, and the hair indulges me by permitting me to wear it after ray own conception of the way it ought to be worn, and I indulge the hair by firmly declining to have it trifled with by gentlemen of the scis sors who possess artistic ideas more bizarre than my own. I fear I'll have to ask you to indulge us both—the hair and me. Cut it the way I directed you to cut it." The black barber looked dazed. When the great man left the shop, the barber mumbled: "Speakuh! Ah sliou'd say he all is a speakuh!" One day Mr. Reed was in a great hurry to get out of Philadelphia, not that he loved the Quaker City less than New York, but because he had an im portant business engagement in the latter city. Arriving ut the depot just about train time, he got pretty well tangled up in a rather thrilling experi ence for a man of ids weight. He was making for the train gate at quite a lusty pace when he was buttonholed, actually, by a wiry little old man, who looked as though he might have come from West Chester. "Why, how are you, Tom?" exclaimed the whiskered party, shaking the pol itician's reluctantly extended hand. "Eh—why, I think you've got the best of me—l don't remember you," returned Mr. Reed, sort of perturbed, for he could see that he had but a half minute to spare. "Well, if that don't beat all" "You'll have to pardon me. I've got to make my train," interrupted Reed. "Don't lie in a hurry," insisted the other, taking a firm grip on the ex speaker's lapel. "You'll think who I am in a minute." "But I haven't time to think." Mr. fteed shook himself loose and started for the gate. He heard a little bell tinkle, and the gate closed in his face. "Let me through!" cried Mr. Reed excitedly. The man at the gate paid no heed to him. Close at hand was an open gate for a local train. Mr. Reed rushed through it and trotted down the plat form after the express, which was Just getting under way. He was breathing hard, but he managed to make a fLna] spurt and clutch the rail of the last car. Yet he was not out of the woods, for he found it was one thing to have und other to hold and still another to get aboard. He was swinging behind like the tail of a kite when the brake man came to his rescue. He caught Mr. Reed by the collar and tried to drag him aboard. The brakeman would have failed in his noble effort bud he not been aided by two porters, who gal lantly shoved from behind while the brakeman pulled from above. The job was finished, though not without dam age to Mr. Reed's apparel ami at the expense of much perspiration. AH Mr. Reed stood on the buck plat form mopping his brow he could see the figure of his old forgotten acquaint ance at the gateway, and above the rumhle of the train he heard these words: "I used to be your milkman!" Reed was fond of telling this story of his boyhood days: "It was one of our customs in school for each boy who had lived up to the rules to ring his bell upon going out. One time I left for three days in suc cession without ringing. "Of course the master noticed the omission, and I knew I would hear from him. " Tom,' he said, 'ls this an inad vertence?' 'No, sir.' 'Did you break the rules?' 'Yes, sir, because they are too hard.' 'Well, my boy, If the rules are too hard you know you can leave the school.' "I hung my head, and ufter a few minutes of terribie silence the teacher went away, saying as he went, 'Tom, never let me hear of this again.' 'No, sir,' I replied, and I meant to keep my word. "I was not a good boy at school, but I knew that education was good for me, and a threat of dismissal always hud the necessary effect" One more of Reed's characteristic sallies may bear quotation. A friend tendered him his sympathies upon one occasion. "Don't sympathize with me!" he cried. "Y'ou must not sympathize with any one. It is out of style, and the only place you can find sympathy now is in the dictionary." On a recently bitter cold night in New York Reed was riding on a street car when the conductor negligently left the door open. The speaker beckoned the man to him and asked: "Why have you your collar turned up, my friend?" "Because I want to keep warm," re sponded the conductor. "So do the rest of us," observed the speaker. "Suppose you shut the door." It is needless to add that the passen gers were comfortable during the re mainder of the trip. While walking up Broadway in New York below Fourteenth street one duy Mr. Reed commented upon the strange names on the signboards und did not become happy until he caught the name O'Shaugnessy over a saloon. "Thank heavens, there are some Americans living in New York!" he euid. EFFECT OF ARMY RATIONS. Porto Rlcan Soldiers Grew Taller After Eatlntf Them Six Months. W. K. Landis, who Is postmaster at San Juan, Porto Rico, Is in Washing ton on a visit to his brother, Represent ative Landis of Indiana, says the Phil adelphia Ledger and Times corre spondent. Referring to a recently pub lished statement to the effect that the uniforms sent the rural guards in the Philippines were proving too small in consequence of the abundance and ex cellence of the army ration, Mr. Lan dis gave an interesting illustration of the effect of the army ration on the Porto Rlcan soldiers: "The Porto Rlcan battalion," said he, "composed of men over twenty-one, thoroughly matured, was selected after a thorough physical examination. The height of the men was taken in their stocking feet and carefully re corded. A physical examination made six months luter by the same system of measurement showed that the men had increased in height an average of one-quarter of an Inch as a result of regular meals of army rations. Per haps the drill had something to do with making them erect and flrifi, but in any event it was a remarkable re sult of army methods." The Modern Samson. Santa Claus must be a Samson. Else he'd surely break his back Bearing up the mighty burden Of his ponderous Christmas pack. When I think of all the presents That he hung upon our tree And the many, many children, What a giant he must be! Blocks and animals and candies, Fruit and toys he scattered here; What a heavy, awkward bundle For the driver and the deer! Why, the good old saint must have a Hundred arms where'er he goes And a half a hundred pockets In his furry Christmas clothes! In the olden days when children Numbered but a very few Santa's pack was light and easy. And he hadn't much to do; Now the land is full of chimneys, And around each cheery hearth Merry children wait his coming Over all the Joyful earth. Atlas, In the ancient fable, Bore the world upon his neck: Samson turned the marble temple Of his foemen to a wreck, But the giants that we read of— All of them have passed away. Leaving Santa, only Santa. Never stronger than today! Does he spend the year In training For his great December feat? Does his burden seem the lighter Just because it is so sweet? Ah. I cannot give an answer. But I know that once a year Borne Immortal ghost of Samson Empties out his bundle here! i —Aloyslus Coll In New York Comir.v'rcial Advertiser. THE GUGGLETY GIRL. - Did you ever meet the gugglety girl. With her tongue all acog and her brain all uwhlrl, The gugglety-glg and glgglety-g\ig. The gigglety-gugglety glgglety-gug, The gugglety-gugglety girl? Bhe giggles and snickers when others are sober; She's lacking In depth, yet no Insight can probe her; She's serious glad, and she's glad when she's serious And always confoundedly giggly myateri- Ehc laughs at the butcher, she laughs at the baker, And nobody ever knows Just how to tako her. She'd grin at a funeral or at a wedding; She laughs at the terrors that others are dreading; She always appears with a grin on her features. The happiest, merriest, gayest of crea tures; She bends not the knee to an earthly born master And chirps In the face of impending dis aster; She giggles from morning till falling of night; She laughs to the left, and she grins to the right, And somehow we seem to pass over our With the laugh of the gugglety girl on the air! Oh. say, have you met the gugglety girl, With her tongue all agog and her brain In a whirl, The gugglety-glg and glgglety-gug, The gigglety-gugglety glgglety-gug, The gugglety-gugglety girl? —Baltimore News. Her Only Chance. Letta Cutte—Your friend, Ann Teek, was bragging that she had a man at her feet yesterday. Sara Kasm—Yes; I heard her, but I think she was referring to the chiropo dist.—Chicago News. An Old Argument. It Is just an Incident of club life. "Going home?" asked one of the party. * "Yes," was the reply. "What's the use breaking uway?" asked several. "Be sociable." The young man paused. It's an old, old argument and most effective. No one likes to be considered unsociable, but sociability sometimes makes it nec essary to call a cab later. "Be sociable," urged the party again. "I believe I will," said the young man thoughtfully. "In fact, I am con vinced that I ought to be." "But you're putting on your coat." "I know it. I'm going to be sociable with my wife this time."—Chicago Post. A Juvenile Philosopher. Two little maids who should have been in school Instead of "from" it were emerging from an east side grocery, armed respectively with a loaf of rye bread and a head of cabbage. She of the auburn locks was telling how a playmate had pursued her, call ing out: "Carrots! Carrots! Fivq cents a bunch!" "An' what did you do?" asked her companion. "I didn't do nothin'," returned the wise child. "I Just called out, 'Sticks an' stones may break my bones, but names 'll never hurt 'em!"— New York Times. Plillonophically Considered. "Studeuts of the subject suy that it is dangerous for a man to have too much meat," remarked the beef trust promoter consolingly. "Yes," answered the consumer, "but you can't always go by what the stu dents say. They have also declared that it sometimes dangerous for a man to have too much money."—Washington Stur. Selected Names. First Matinee Girl—That woman looks like an actress. Do you know what her name is? Second Matinee Girl—She was a Miss Ethel Johnson before she married Mr. George Billings, whose stage name Is Alfred De Vere, but she Is known pro fessionally as Euphemia Frothingham. —Brooklyn IJfe. A Woman'* ReniioniiiH;. "Why did you ever let your daughter marry so young?" "Because I got tired being her chap eron and always mingling with mere boys. I've had three offers of marriage already since I have had a chance to get away from the children."—-Chicago Record-II era Id. No Danaer of a Shortage. "He throws a kiss to me every morn ing as he goes by." "What a waste of good material!" "Oh, dear, no. It's not a waste. They're just the superfluous ones that he can't deliver In person owing to the shortness of the evenings."—Chicago Post. The Colonel'ii Speech. The Judge—Did Colonel Blucgrnss notify you of his objections verbally? The Major—Well, perhaps It might bettor be called ndjectively.—Town Topics. Yonng America'* Excane. "You shouldn't make faces, my son." "That's all right, pa. I'm going to be a dermatologist some day." She WOOING j| OF MISS A i | PRJSCILLA | 5 By Carrie Hunt Latta { V CapurloM, 1101, by C. 11. Latta 11 As she drew near to a small house which was built well back from the roud Miss Prlscilla glanced at it with pretended indifference. Then she looked closer, stopped and looked again. "How sliet up Sum'l Clayton's bouse do look! Mebby he's went away. Mebby he's went west, lie said he would ef I didn't marry him. But, luw me, that wus yeurs un' yeurß ngo, an' ef he'd ben goiu' he'd 'a' went long ago. Mebby he's sick an' all by hlsself! I wouldn't live on a byroad fer a finer farm 'u this of Sam'l's." She took a few steps farther, then stopped. There was a determined look on her face. "It ain't proper fer a lone wummin ter go ter the house of a lone man, but I ain't goin' ter stop fer that ner nothin' else when they's a prospec' of Sam'l Cluyton belu' sick with nobody ter complain ter." She walked briskly up the lane which led to the, IJJtle house. The blinds were drawn hml the front gate was closed. The barnyard gate hung open, and the chickens wandered about the doorynrd disconsolately, while out in the shed the cow lowed plteously. "No tellin' when that cow's ben milked er how long she's ben sliet up without feed an' water. Somethln's huppened. I hope —oh, I do hope—lt ain't nothin' awful. Sam'l's 'bout the only friend I've got here'bouts, an' ef he was ter die"— She had to wipe the tears from her eyes before she knocked. There was no answer. Iler breath came fust. She knocked again. "What yo' want?" The voice was decidedly cross. Miss Prlscilla opened the door cau tiously, keeping her face turned away. "Sam'l Clayton, is they anything the matter?" "Nothin'," he answered grimly, " 'ceptln' I'm flat 011 my back an' ain't able ter git up." The door flew open, and Miss Prls cilla entered. "I know I ain't doln' the proper thing, Sam'l, so don't be castin' up nothin', but— My goodness, Sam'l, yo're as yaller as gold." "That's comfortln', Percllly." "Yo've got yaller Janders, I reckon. I don't blame yo' none fer not wantin' ter git up. When I had 'em, I couldn't turn over In bed." "I do want ter git up, but I can't, Percllly." "Don't yo' be cross, Sam'l. They ain't no call fer it. I'm sorry fer yo', awful sorry, ail', though it ain't the thing, I'm goin' ter Btay here an' red things up some. Then I'll git word to yer brother ltobert. Air yo' thirsty, Sam'l?" lie nodded. "An' hungry?" He put out his tongue at her and made a wry face. "No; I reckon yo' ain't hungry, but yo're weak fer somethin' ter eat, an' yo'll git It right soon." She went into the kitchen, and Samu el heard her muttering and talking to herself. She put her head In at the door. "Is that glass there on the table the only one yo've got, Sam'l?" "I'm the only one ter use a glass, Per cllly, an' I never hev eump'ny." "What's It got In It anyhow?" "Ginger tea, Percllly." Miss Prlscilla picked the glass up and smelled of the contents. "Phfew! Sakes alive. I s'pose yo' fixed it?" Miss Prlscilla disappeared, taking the glass with her. She soon returned with a glass of sparkling cold water. Miss Prlscilla straightened the sheet, put clean cases on the pillows, opened the windows and put the room in order. Samuel's face brightened as he watch ed her. "Got anything 'bout the house ter eat, Sam'l?" she asked presently. "Things as spile easy is hangin' In the well, an' the rest of the things is hi the cellar, Percllly." Miss rriscllla fed the chickens, milked the cow and turned her Into the pasture. When she returned, she put the milk away, then entered the room again, bringing u cup of hot broth. "It ain't cooked 'uougk, Sam'l, hut it won't do fer yo' to go any longer with a impty stummick. Eat some." She propped him up in bed, and he did as he was bidden. "That's the first good broth I've et sence mother died." "I don't doubt that, Sam'l. Yo're the porest 'xcuse fer a housekeeper 1 ever seen. The whole house is awful. I ain't s'prised yo're sick. I'd be dead." "It ain't my fault as I'm my own housekeeper, Percllly Blake," he an swered significantly. She flushed red. "Well, I see plain as I'll hev to go an' leave yo' by yourself an' not wait fer yer brother ter come. Don't make matters unproperer than they air a'red dy." "My, but yo' air b'hind the times! Brother moved ter loway five weeks (Igo comin' Thursday." "They's other naybers, Sam'l," she snapped." All the rest of the day she watched for a passing vehicle that she might hall Its occupant and send for someone to look nfter Samuel. Toward evening she grew uneasy. She had refused to talk to Samuel for some time, as he would talk of personal matters, but now she turned to him anxiously. "Sam'l, I can't bear ter leave yo' by yoTself ag'in ternight." "I guess I won't die ef yo're anxious ter go, Percllly." "I ain't anxious ter go, an' yo' know it" "Then stay an' let folks talk ef they want ter." "I can't 'ford ter do that, Sam'l." Then there was another long si lence. Miss Prlscilla looked down the road anxiously, finally going down to the gate to see if she could get a glimpse pf any one. "He might git worse In the night," she murmured to herself. "I never was so put out in all my life." Samuel looked Into her eyes as she came in. "See anybody?" he asked. She shook her head. "Percllly, w'y, say, do yo' 'member what I asked yo' onct?" She made no reply and looked steadi ly down the road. "Well," he went on, "them's still my feeliu's." She shaded her eyes as if to see bet ter and did not answer. "W'y, Percllly, say, ef I'm not dead by mornin', won't yo' hook up old Kit to the buggy an' drive over fer the preacher an' fetch him over an' hev 'im marry yo' an' me?" Miss Prlscilla sprang to her feet. Her face was crimson with anger. "Sam'l Clayton, ain't yo' 'shamed ter Insult me In yo'r own house? Do yo' think that's what I come over here fer? Shame on yo'!" And, covering her face, she burst Into tears. "Fer the Lord's sake, 'Cilly, now don't do that. I wouldn't 'a' made yo' cry fer tills farm. Course yo' didn't come here fer that. I've ben wautin' ter say this, howsumever, ever sence I said it that time so long ago. But yo' know yo' wouldn't ever let me talk 'bout It. I'm lovln' yo' all this time, an', Percllly, yo' Jest can't know how lonesome I am." Miss Prlscilla wiped her eyes and looked at him. "That broth made yo' a heap better, didn't it, Sam'l?" "A heap better," he answered smil ingly. "Well, yo're well 'nougli ter leave by yoTself, ain't yo*?" "The 'xcitement of yer goiu' away would upset me, I'm shore." "Anyhow I'm goln', Sam'l." "Yo* ain't give me no answer to that question, 'Cilly. A 'Yes,' said good an' strong, would cure me." "I'm goln' home an' do the milkin' an' feed the chickens an' do the chores." "I hate ter stay by myself 'notlier night, that I do. I lied sech a oncom fortable night las' night." "Yo' pore man!" she said kindly. "Well, as I was sayin', I'll go home an' do the chores, an' while I'm there I'll change my dress. I think I'll hook up old Belle—l ain't ust ter Kit—an' I'll send Boh Coldron over ter stay with yo' while I'm away. I'll hev his wife come too. They'll do fer witnesses, yo' know." "Do yo' mean yo're goin' ter hev me, Percllly?" he asked eagerly. "I reckon I do," she answered, finger ing her suuhoniict. "'Cilly, tbe.v's one thing I wisht yo'd give me 'fore yo' start, somethin' ter keep up my strength till yo' git back." He looked at her wistfully. "More beef tea, Sam'l?" she asked, hut there was a twinkle in her eyes. "Yo' know better—somethin' I asked yo' fer an' tried ter steal long time ago." She hesitated for an instant, then leaned over and kissed him. Woman'! Sennc of Humor. It certainly seems that in much of the humor of women there is a trait closely allied to the retort courteous, as shown, for instance, in the following citations. It was a woman who, en re vanche and with gentle satire, said, "I am sorry for man; just at that awk ward age between the ape and the an gel." Another woman It was who re marked after reading the Carlyle let ters, "Yes, it is true; Mrs. Carlyle was a martyr, but she wasn't a good mar tyr, or we'd never have heard of It." Better known is the anecdote of the learned and fastidious New England woman who, being in need of a pin, was asked by a friend, who was some what in awe of her, what kind of pin she wanted and hit off the situation wittily with her indignant reply, "The common white phi of North America." In all these instances one may discern something of "the look downward." It would be interesting to know if this is characteristic of the humor of the sex.—Century. The Postmaster Was Cautious. I was expecting a letter at a Dakota postoffice, and when I went to inquire for it I found the postmaster to be doubtful of my Identity. "Sure you're the man?" he asked. "Of course." "Willing to make affidavit to it?" "I am." "Not after any one else's letters?" "No, sir." "Willing to swear and sign your name?" "I told you I was." "Where would the letter be from?" he continued. "Boston, perhaps." "And written to you?" "Certainly. You seem to be over particular bore." "Yes, mebbe I am, luit being as no body here has got a letter for the last month and being as there is none for you and not likely to be I thought I wouldn't take any desperate chances, you know." Never Needed Vindication. "You wore never compelled to ask for a vindication?" "A vindication?" echoed Senator Sor ghum scornfully. "I should say not. My motto is, 'Don't get caught in the first place.'Washington Stur. TESTIMONY OF NON-UNION MEN Continued from First rage, ing the strike assisting in putting in a new boiler at the Upper Lehigh colliery. Two of the principal witnesses of the day were August Scheuck and son, of iiazleton. August Scheuck is outside foreman at No. 40 colliery, of the Le high Coal Company, and his son is a district superintendent. Father and son were assaulted during the strike on Broad streej, liazleton, and were badly injured, and in the midst of the crowd was Squire McKelvey, of Hazleton. John Doran, manager of the VVilkes barre Lace Mills, testified that because he would not discharge two girls who had relatives working In the mines the 1,100 employes went on strike and stay ed out eight weeks until the matter was fixed up. Fred Reynolds, of Scranton, who was employed as a fireman at Scranton, told of being shot at four times while re turning home from work and of the arrest and conviction of his assailants. Mrs. McNainara, of Parsons, said she beard people say that they would kill her husband, who remained in a Dela ware and Hudson colliery during the strike. Stones were fired at her In her own house. On October 19 the witness was awakened about midnight by smoke. The house was on fire and was burned to the ground. Counsel for the uiiners called the com mission's attention to the fact that the fire had not been connected with the strikers, and objected to the other side bringing in evidence of alleged violence by strikers when they cannot prove It. Chairman Gray said while the evidence did not directly connect the strikers with the fire, the inference was that the fire was most probably of Incendiary origin. William Myles, a pump runner for the Lackawanna Company, was called. He worked during the strike. A barber would not shave him. The barber said: "I hate to refuse you, but you know how it is." His butcher told witness' wife that he had been requested not to sell meat to her. Duncan Maclotyre, of Nantlcoke, caused amusement by saying that dur ing July be was hanged three times, and his wife twice; but stated after the laughter had ceased that it was in effigy he was hanged. Frank Trimble, of Plymouth, testified that he could not get meat from Ply mouth butchers because he worked dur ing the strike. Judge Gray asked why some of the merchants who had refused to ge|| goods to non-union workmen had never been brought before the commissioners. At torney Lenahan replied that they would not appear voluntarily, as they were afraid of a boycott if they testified, and that he had no power to subpoena them. The Courier-Herald, of Wilkesbarre, as well as a placard giving tho names of 112 alleged unfair workmen, were offer ed as evidence of boycotting. The placard had been tacked to a post by one of the Nariticoke miners' unions. Those witnesses and others that were called testified that their wives were in sulted on tho streets, the children were beaten and could not bo safely sent to school, that local unions requested store keepers to refrain from selling goods to any one related to a man working In the mines; that their houses were stoned; that they were shot at and hung in effigy, and that life was generally made miserable for them and their families. The lawyers for the non-union men say they will continue calling witnesses to prove that a reign of tenor existed during the strike. The commission will adjourn at about noon tomorrow, and will reconvene in Philadelphia on Jan uary 5. BREVITIES. The latest development or screw pro pellers Is due to Mr. C. A. Parsons. The blades are given reduced pitch to ward their tips, small vanes being also provided on the propeller cone, and the effect is to admit of high speed with out captlvation and to give a greater mean thrust than Is possible with blades of constant or Increasing pitch. Dr. Calvello, an Italian, has discov ered that 9 per cent of essence of thyme and 18 per cent of essence of geranium make an excellent disinfect ant when freely used for the hands of medical operators. As these essences enter largely Into the composition of eau de cologne, It follows that this scent is a good antiseptic for ordinary purposes. DePIERRO - BR0& Corner of Centre and Front Htreetc. Gibson, Dougherty, Kaufer Club, Bosenbluth's Velvet, of which we h\ve EXCLUSIVE SALE IX TOWN. Mumm's Extra Dry Champagne Hennessy Brandy, Blackberry, Gina, Wines, Clarets, Cordials, Pto, Ham and BehveeiUer Chute Bandwichet, Sardines, Etc. MEALS - AT - ALL - HOURS Geo. H. Hartman, Meats and Green Ti nek, Fresh Lard a Specialty. Centre Street. nonr Central Hotel, Read - the - Tribune.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers