~.,. ~~ 33p W. Sleazy. VOLUME XX 1866, FOR SUER. 1866, 'Hostetter, Reid & Co. WOULD respectfully announce to t .cir cut tourers and the public 'generally that they have jnet received a new and complete stock of garde in their line, purchased at the last decline, and which they of fer at panic prices. Their stock of • CROMIES, Embracing in part RIO COFFEE, V 7 /() P. R, SUGAR, SUGAR ® 10, 12, . WRITE SUGAR, PULP. DO., BEST SYRUPS, PRIME BAK. MOLASSES, MOLASSES d 50 CENTS, SUGAR CURED ILL MS, pREESE—MABON'a. CIIACKERS. QUeensware pf the newest and most bonutiful patterns, in gets and otherwilie. Common wire, good assortment end prices r( intone Me. SPICES, &e.--Cround Ginger,Pepper, Atspice, Cloves, Cinnamon, Cayenne kepper, Mustard. &c. These are all pure and ground expressly for ourYelves. B. soda. Cr. Tarter, Raisene, Dried Currants, and other Baking article.; of heat quality. Pepper . Bence, Tomato Catsup, Melo, Cider Vinegar. • • WOODEN WA it E.—Buckete, - Tubs, Doze. . fte• FlSH.—'Mackerel, all grader Shad, P. Herr% nr. From our ennneetior with Herket Oars running to the Eastern cities, we receive regularly VRGETABLES, FRESH FISH, FRUITS, &c. 'Everything in this line in their proper season. We will order goods of this class for parties and deliver them at short est notice. Country Produce bought and the highest market .price paid• Terms pesitivery Cash. • N. B. Thankfol for the liberal share of custom we have received, we trust by fair dealing, and earnest efforts to please and accommodate,• to in crease our trade still further. May 18i HOSTETT R, R IRA CO. NEW F . A L AND MUE7EE tDDI IDS g GEORGE STOVER 'HAS RETURNED FROM PHILADEL PHU WITH A SUPPLY OF DRY GOODS:I 31EIS 11117. 4CIIIO r3r , • AND Eitit EX:C CID OE 529 • NOTIONkIIiERNWIIIB GROCERIES, ' gir . To which he invitee the attention of of his patrons-and the public generally. Octute. 46, 1866 and Glassware WAYNESBORO', PRANKLIN'COUNTI, PENNSYLVANIA, FRIDAY HORNING, DECEMBER . ,I4, 1866. 3PCP3II"I"XCOALMa. MOW TOT !MART:MUMS .NR. • BY JAMES 0. 'CLARK. I know thy heart remembers me In all its pain and pleasure— And oft mine own goes back to thee. Its last and dearest treasure; 'Tin mine'to gaze on stormy seas, - 1 And view its wreck of glory there; , And thine to feel life's morning breeze Unmixed with all its chill despair. , I sometimes call the world my home, The world which bath, bereft me; And dream awhile that joys will come . As bright ae those that lett me !. And then some wounded bird will stray From memory's track ot withered flotiers To flutter o'er my future way, And sing the dirge of holier hours. The day that died on yonder height, Shall live again tomorrow-- But when the heart goes down in night, It finds no morn from sorrow; The frown of night, the smile of dawn, Will vainly gloom or gild the sky -- 'Tia'always night when-thou . art gone, 'Tie ever day when thou art nigh. Thou may'st not feel that 1 have loved As man no more may love ihee— Until the vows of men have pioved, • • . Vain as the clouds above thee; Bet down the burial vale of years . My words will rise with mem'ries rife, Like grate-stones wet with useless teens, Which cannot call the dead to life TIM LOVED NOT LOST. ' , How strange it seems with en much gone Of life and love; to still live on ! Ah brother only I and thou Are left of that dear circle now,--- The dear home faces whereupon . That fitful firelight paled and shone, • Hericefirward listen as we will, The voices of that hearth are still; Look where . we may the wide. earth e'er - Those lighted faces shine no more. We tread the paths their feet have worn, We sit beneath their orchard trees, We hear like them the hom of bees And rustle of the bladed corn; We turn the pages that they read, Their written words we linger o'er; But in the sun they cast no shade, No voice is heard, no sign is made, No step is on the conscious floor ! Yet love will dream and faith will trim. •(Since he who,knows our need 16,089 That somehow, somewhere, meet we must. Alas for him who, never sees • • The stars shine through his cypress trees ! Who hopeless lays his dead away, Nor looks to see the breaking day Across the mournful marble clay * Who bath not learned in hews of faith, The truth to flesh and sense unknown, Tkat Life is ever Lord of Death, • And Love can never lose its own !" • —llli Itiers Sow Bound. TVLIJSC3II.T...I.raSt.W7r._ THE REJECTED BANK NOTE. "What is the price of this dressing gown, sir?" asked a sweet faced girl, entering the elegant store of Handy & Warner, in a city, and a street of a city, which shall be name losss. It was a cloudy day. The clerks lounged over the counter and yawned The man to whom Alice Locke addressed herself was jaunty and middle aged. He was head clerk of the exteesive estahli.shment of Hunt ly & Warner; and extremely consequential in manner. "This dressing gown we value at six dol lars—you can have it for five as trade is dull to day." ' , rive dollars?' Alice looked at the dress. ing gown longingly, and the clerk looke4 at her. He saw that her clothes, though made and wore genteely,, were common enough in texture, and that per face was very much out of the common line. How it changed; now shaded, now lighted by the varied play of her emotions.. The clerk would almost have sworn that she had no more than that sum, five dollars, in her possession. The gown was a very good one for the price. It was of common shade, a tolerable morino, and lined with the same material "l think"—she hesitated a moment—"l think I'll take it," she :aid; then seeing in the face before her, an expression she aid not like r she blushed, and she handed out the bill the clerk bad made up his mind not to take. • "Dennis," • cried Talent, the clerk, in a quick, pompous tone, "pass up the bank note detector.' .Up rau the townheaded boy with the de tector, and down ran the clerk's eye from column to column. Then he looka over with a. sharp glance, and e;ctaitned: • "That's a counterfeit bill, Miss." "Counterfeit! Oh, no—it cannot Le:— The man who sent it could not have been so Careit•Bß; yOU must be mistaken, sir.". "Lain not:mistaken; I am never mistaken, Miss. The -bill , is ; :a counterfeit. I must presume,-of course, that you did not' know it, althoub.so much ban money has been offered us -of late that - we intend •to Atecure such persons as pow if. Who did you ray sent it!"- AL=. Xixcleiltoetigien.t Fami.lY Neimrsaryarpecr. "Mr. C—, sir, of New York. Be could: not J ana me ba.4 money," said the trembling frightened gill. "Hump!" said the'clerk. "Well, there's no doubt about this; you can' look for your self. Now, don't let me see you here again until you can bring good money, for we al; ways suspect suck persons as you who come on dark days with a well made story." • i•But, "You need make no explanations, Miss." said the man insultingly. "Take your bill and the next time you want to buy a dross• ing gown don't try to pass your counterfeit money,' and as he banded it. the bill fell from his hand. Alice caught it up from the floor and hurried into the street. Such a shock the girl had never received. She hurriod ep a banking establishmeni, found her way in, and preiented the bill to a noble looking man with gray ,hair, falter= iog out, "Is this a bad ono, sir?" • , The cashier and his eon happened to, be the only persons present Both noticed her estrome youth, beauty and agitation. "It's a good bill, young' lady." "I knew it wag," cried Alice, with a (pia eririg lip—" And he dared—" She could go no further, but entirely overcome, she bent her,head, and tha hot tears had their way. —Ail beg your pardon, have you had any trouble with it!" asked the cashier. "Oh, sir, you will excuse me for giving way to my feelings—but you spoke so kind. ly, and I felt so sure that it was good. And I think, sir, such men as one of the clerks in Huntly & Warner's store should _be re.- moved. He told me that it was counterfeit, and added something which I am glad my father did not hear. I know the publisher would not send me bad money. 'Who is your father?" asked the cashier becoming interested. "Mr. Benjamin Locke, sir?' "Benjamin—Ben Locke—was be ever a clerk in the Navy. Department at Washing ton?" "Yes, sir, we removed therer re plied Alice.. "Since the'i=she - hesitated, "he has not been well—and we are some what reduced. Oh, why do I tell these things sir?" "Ben Locke reduced!" murmured th e cashier; "the man who was the making of me. Give me his number and street, my child. Your father was one of the.best— perhaps the only friend I had. I have not forgotten him. No. 4 Liberty street. I will call this evening. Meantime let me have the bill—let me see—l'll give you a nother." "Since I come to look, I haven't got a five; here's a ten, we'll make it all right." That evening the inmates of a shabby,gen tact house received the cashier of the M Bank. Mr. Lodke, a man of gray hair, though numbering but fifty years, rose from his arm chair, and much affected, • greeted the familiar face. The son of the cashier ac companied him, and while the elders taked together, Alice and the young man became quite chatty. "Yes, sir, I have been unfortunate," said Mr. Locke, in a low tone, "I have just re• covered, as you see, from a rheumatic fever, caused by undue exertion—and had it not been for that sweet girl of mine, I know not what I should have don - 08 - he — by — giving lessons•in music and French, and by writing for petiodiaals, has kept, so far, above want" "You shall not want, My old friend," sitid the cashier. "It was a kind Providence that sent your daughter to me. There's a place in the bank , just male vacant by the death of a valuable clerk, and it is at your, dispel. sal. It is my gift iiad valued at twelve bun dred a year." Pen cannot describe the joy with which this kind offer was accepted. The day of deliverence had come. **** * * . On the following morning the cashier en, tered the handsome Pto e of liuntly & Ware nor, and enquired for the head clerk. Ile came obsequiously. "Sir," said the cashier sternly, "is this a bad note?" " . I—l think not, sir," Fdannnoringly re plied the clerk. The cashier went to the door. From hie carriage stopped out a young girl in company :with his daughter. "Did you not tell this young My, my ward, that this note was counterfeit. And did you not so far forget ;year self-respect and the interest of y our .' e mployers . as to of fer insult P. , The man stood eonfounde&---he dared not deny—he could 'say nothing for him- self. "If your employers keep you, sir, they shall no longer have ; : ray custom," said the cashier sternly. "ou deserve to be lime whipped, sir.' The firm parted with their unworthy clerk that very day, and he 'left the store disgrac ed, but punished justly. Alice locket became the daughter of the good cashier. All of which grew out of call hag a genuine hill counterfeit. 800K5. 7 -Give ul . a hou - ge furnished with books rather than Intniturel • Roth if' you. can but books 'at any rate To spend "se • era, ' days in a friend's house, and hunger fur something to rend, while you are treading on costly carpets and sitting' down upon luxu rioups chairs and sleeping upon down, is• as 11 ono were bribing your body for the 8:t he of cheating your mind. !looks arc the ,wio doWs Ali rough the soul looks ont. A houSe without books ii like e • rootn without windows • A book is:good' einopsoy; It •is full of conversation without lotruteity.•,, talks to you, not throitigh ear , tiut. another =El=:==l Trifles, with nn direot object, ore too Ire-. quently mignified into mountains of Wen. ttun I. off.nse. "That'Feels Dike dOtb-rer'sliand-1 Diming the Wit year 'of the conflict a young officer in 4Rhode Island battery received a fearful wound in his right leg from a frag ment of a shell. A weep , of dreadful pain and hardship anituid, during whieh be was transported frorn the front, bear Richmond, to Washington. The surgeons here, upon consultation, advised an amputation. He egraphed home that all was well, and oomp?- sed himself to bear _whatever might be to the future, with the fortitude of a true sol dier. The operation was pirforined, but the condition- of the patient WAS 'orifice!. His constitution did not rally after thnahock, and he was carefully nursed by one • these angels of mercy whose presence illuminated so many of our military hospitals. Ms mother, in Rhode Island, who, with the' intuition of a woman, had apprehended the extent Of the danger, left home 'on the receipt of the telegraph, and reached Wash ington at midnight. .As the surgeon had en joined the utmost calmness and quiet as in dispensable to the wounded.hero, the moth er was not allowed to see her suffering boy at once, but sat in an adjoining room pa tiently waiting for daylight and the pertnis aion of the surgeon to enter the ward where he lay. ' As •tbe nurse sat there fanning the patient and resting her fingers on. the fluttering and feverish pulse, she was thinking every mo ment of that heavyhearted mother in the neit room. every fibre of whose heart was yearning to come and sit where she was sit ting, and lay her hand on her boy. At leogth when the ward was still and dark, she glided out, and told . his mother that she might go in very softly and take her place; that he seemed to be sleeping, and probably would not know the difference. Gently and with out uttering a word, she moved' to his bed side, and laid her fingers on the wrist, as the nurse had directed; but the patient, though apparently asleep, perceived a change in the character of 'the touch. Nature was too strong to be deceived; opening his eyes, he said, 'That feels like my mother's hand.— Wh - c 19 - th beside me? It is my motherl— Turn - up-the g,as c and-let-me-see_tnotherl' The gas was turned up. The true-heart ad` boy saw that he - was right, end their fa ces now met in a long, joyful, sobbing em brace. He rallied a little after she came, and seemed to try very hard, on her account, to feel stronger. I.tat the stump showed bad symptom!, and another. amputation, nearer the body, was decided. upon, after which he sank. As the end approached, weeping friends told him that it only remained to make his condition. comfortable. He said that,he bad looked death io the face too many tithes to be afraid now. He had just completed his twenty • firat year, and the third of his ser vice in the United States army, when the ti nal bugle callreached his ears, and the moth er laid away the tnutilated tom of her sol dier boy in a sleepfromwhich no electrical touch of maternal love can erer waken him. —Frank More's Women of tlae War. A few days since a singular marriage case occurred in the private house of a clergy man, in Now York, the circumstances of which are as follows : The bridegroom was what is styled a El port -ing-manrand—was_on_his_way to Albeoy with a brother black 7 loo., who possessed a very dangerous piece oeproperty, in the shape of An extraordinary pretty wife. The married gaOler had not been long on the boat be forne observed something, in the conduct of his. spouse to induce him to suspect that she was more fond of his friend than was pleasant to contemplate, or ' prudent to per mit. He kept his own eounsel, jiowever,and made excuse for leaving the pair alone.-- They profited by his absence; and, just be fore the steamer reached the Capitot,he went soddenly to his state-room and forced open the door. He found the twain within, and, at the point of ' a revolver, hut:calmly, made the lover swear that ho would marry the false wife immediately on returning to New York. "You say you love her," lie added. "Prove it in the way I prescribe, and I shall never trouble you or her. Fail to make her your wife, and I'll pursue you to the ends of the earth, and take your life, so sure as there is a God in thaven. nave no hes itation about the . legardifficulty. I 511411 never make my appearance on your domestic a,cene;•and few will know, and none will dis-, turb you in, your connubial relation. I hive loved the'woman , better than my life—l love Still. But, a'ter what has occurred, I can not take her my arms again. She • has f it transferred he afroetiona to you, I believe, Do not abuse heat. Cherish and protect her, and if you ever need a friend, apply to me. You have sworn to marry her. ' If you have any regard_ for your lite e keep your oath; for I have sworn, as you have, to kill you it you do not redeem your sacred word.' ' At Albany the betrayed- Benedict 'parted with his wife and her lover, who came' di meetly over to New York; and were straight way joined in, wedlock. • The .first mentioned person is said to be a mon. of education, at uuo time a tnerehant in. Baltimore, Md., and remarkable among his "profession" for the strictness with mbieb ho keeps his word, and the perfect 'coolness of his play. It is Paid that he killed a man in a duel at Richmond, Ira:, before the war, on account of the wo man he has quitted, and that ho is about to sail for California to peas ,the remainder. of i his days. Ile is well known io New York and Chicago among the larger and better elos of farp.,dealers and frequenters. • of the tuft; - ' ~. .. 1 The WeielOtave-n-saying_tha_tillt_woman wag no quick with her l'eot as oho lo with her tmguo, Fho etlulti catch lightning enough to kindle the tire in the saurtung. Georgia Nit sioo 000 000 by the w a r.-- This ge..tna in• relible, but, it iA true. e_Dutch_Wido•Wer _ 'Mine frow voe.nO better es sbe Ort to be, till shist before she diet; then she Vas so good as beforo,' remarked Mr. Vanierhord to his heigither. 'Your wife Was an . antiablo wornen, and you.do greatinjustice to her memory; said . Mr. Pluggitigs, 'VA vat you know so much 'bout mine frow for?' 'I was not intimately acquainted with her, but I am Ore that all her acquaintances loved her?' 'Vot tight had they to love hed—May be—' • • 'May be what?' 'May be you loved mine frow, too?' 'Why do you speak so strangely?' 'Vy, von day, a pig, Ugly map, Oust like yon, came into 'onr house end kissed' mine frow right before her face.' 'Were yob )iiesent at the time?' 'To pe sure I .vos.' ' - 'Well, what did you do?' kicked hini right pehild his pack.' 'Did he resent'it?' 'Yaw, ho , proke me two looking glass. and ail to rest of to crockery in to bouSe ''cePt the fodder bed, into tun Smash!' ' 'What did,You do then?'. ''Then °Then 1 cried winger! metier! mortar! and' called for to shudge anti te shury, and' to police office', and td constable to , aorue, and he run away." ' • ' you interid to charge me with 'taking such unwarrantable liberties with` the cein panion of your boaern?' • . 'Me no charge netting for it not'paeauSe she pe tead and perried ' ' will not 'allow you to Make such . insinu ations. You are an old Vont, and every body said got *ere glad your wife died.' 'Everybody po von liar. ' • EtaW no symptoms of sorrow.' 'Me felt mord wush, tan if my pest Cow had tied.' 'Your cow! What a comparison!' --- "Shz - voa - a - grea-t-doss-- - a—h - e&vy — los• she vos pig as- dat, (spreading out his arms) and she weighed more tin two hnndred pounds' 'Look •out old roan, or you will see troublo. I doubt if your wife was ever kissed by any , man after - her marriage-.--A-t-all—events-you , must apologize for what you have said to me.' 'Vot is poligise?' • , -'You must beg my,par - don sorry, if you do not I will enter a eo plOnt against youand have you arrested.' • 'I pe sorry tour 'Sorry for what!' 'Sorry you kissed mine frow.' 'You incorrigible idiot! That is not what you must say, for I never did such a thing in my life.' 'Must I say you pe sorry that you never did such a thing?' - 'No.you must take back what you hate said.' While the Dutchman was iothii dilemma, his ,friend 'flans Ilainbarger came along, and GentHy succeeded in reconciling the parties, when the trio adiourned to a neighboring coffee-house.. Revenge. Two men in the south of Africa swore e• ternal hatred , to each other, One ofr them found, ono day, the little daughter of his en =Tin the wood. He ran Aujekly to the young girl, cut off two of her filFgers, and sent her home bleeding, whilst be, with bru tat joy, shouted, "I have had my revenge 1" Years passed, and the little girl was grown up to a woman, when, one day, a poor grey , headed begger came to her , door, earnestly begging for food. The young woman reeog nizeil him immediately as being the same horrible man who had eat off' her fingers when she was a child. She went into the cottage instantly, and desired her, servant to bring him * bread and milk, as much as he wanted. She sat down near him, and watch• ed him while he ate. When he had finish ed, and was ready to go, she pointed to her hand, and said to him,--; "I, too, have had my revenge I" The poor man was quite , perplexed 'and confounded at this; for he did, not know that that little gill had become Christian, and had learned the meaning of 'that sweet verse, thel'ast in the twelfth chapter of the Epis tle to the Romans. • Which, revenge *at; the sweetest 7 =:=l _ . ONLY ONE BRICK UPON ANC/TITER. --A boy watched a large building, as the work. men from day to day carried up bricks aDd mortar. iMy son,' said bis father, 'you teem taken with the brioklayers. De you thick of learn. ing the trade ?' 'No, sir; I was thinking what a little thing a brick is, and.what great houses are built by laying one brick on anether! 'Very true, my son; never forget it. So it is in all great works. All.your learning is one lesson added to another. If a man could walk all urntod the world, it would be by putting ono foot before another. Your whole life will be made up of ono moment• upon an. other. Drop.,added to-drop makes the ocean, Learn from this not to despise little things; Be not discouraged . by great' labors. They become easy if divided into• parts. Yon could not jump over a .mountain, but step by step takoi you to the othei side. Do'not fear;therefore, to attempt great things AlSvays remember that the large, budding ' wont up only one brick upon:m/40er.! • , A Southern piper tells Of n bunt toir cave. near Augulita, Georgia.' While the • party : wore investigating the gloomy interim:there: was notiaed an old , colored man standing on: the outside, and he was asked, "Say, uncle, why don't you go in F' "Ah, my master,", said he, !le Lord knlwa 1 see trouble , enough top of de earth, don't, go in dat hole a searching ruler tnis. 1110.00 , 31 - irea.3o, COPPERHINAD.---Tite likiest edition of Web., ster's I.Taabrid.ed Di4ticiniry defines "Cop. perhead" as follows: • COPPERHEAD (hed). n [F rom its eid er.] 1. (gerii) ' A poisonous Anieriean seY pent, - the Trigonocepkaitcs controntrix;—eall , ed also eopper.bell and red viper. - 2. A Northern , sympathizer with th e Southern rebellion. [U. S.] on 'age 1554 of the same work, devoted to explanations, wetfild — t thin more at hingtb, as follows: COPPERHEADS,-- - A popular nickname originating in the-time of the great civil, war in, the United States, and applied to a fac tion in 'the North, Which was Very generally considered to be in secret sympathy with the Rebellien, and to give it aid and comfort by atteinpling to thwart the measures of the Gevernment. The natile is derived from poisonous 'serpent called' the Copperhead, (Trigonacepkalus contontri.c), Whose bite is considered.as deadly as that of the • rattle snake, had `whose geographical range extends from '4s°'N, td Flori Cit. The Copperhead, unlike the rattlesnake, gives no warning of its attack, and is, therefore , the typo of con cealeil foe. . 14.13.1004 AT, n Ono who adberes to Gov,pionnot by the people, or favors the ex tension of the right of suffrage to all classes of men:" - • REWARD OF DisonrprENcr..— lef Tel pa. pers,publisb rho sad histo ry of a young school girl; only sixteen years of age, who many- . ging fo=efrade the rules of the school prohi bitinginale visitors, had stolen interviews with her lover, and loving this gay Lothario not wisely, but too well, at last .placed her hetior and her life in his Her pa refit& were 'promptly notified, and the father toss's his child hastened on to the rescue. Ho found her expelled from the school, and just on the eve'ot elopement with het de groyer-.---Ta-th43--yeang-tnan_a_severa_chast. tisement was administered, when the father and daughter took the bare for home. The seducer followed' on the same train, end man aged to steal the girl away---fook her to De troit, where, after living a few months she a aa a isocline a mother, be deserted her, and in a few days mot er an. o a - were buried in a ' watery eave—betrayed and de aerted she .stroyed--herself and child., . TlATtrrs.--There ate four good' habits a wise man earnestly recommends in his cons-, ads, and wbieh be considers to be essential. ly necessary for the management of temporal concerns; and these are ptinctuality, scours. dy, steadiness and dispatch. Without the first of these time is wasted; without the ace. end, mistakes the most hurtful to our own credit and interest and, that of o th ers may be committed; Without the thirdnothing can be , well done;fted without the fourth opportuni. :tielt of great' interest are. lost - Which: it is ink-, 'possible to recall. Three tailors once met in the city of Lon don, and resolved that "we the, people," &e. They ;titre certainly not very modest in their pretensions, brit their coolness sinks into in significance when compared with the picture presented in this country to-day. In the White noose, at Washington, we have the remarkable spectacle of one tailor, 'who has the shameless effrontery to dictate to the sovereign peop le egotistically terms "my po'icy." Had ho the power—off would come the head of eve ry man who refused' to support that policy. ENCOURAGING WORDS.--It was the re- mark of a distinguished moralist to one` who lamenied hOusmall was the Whence be bad been enabled to-exercise in a long, life, that no man bad lived in vain who henefitted a single human being. We often forsake the daily task, humble it may be in character, which is appropriate to our condition, re garditig only those primal duties which shine aloft-like stars, and fot getting that the char ities whieh soothe and beal and bless are scat tered.at the, feet, of ' man like flowars.--Sir Thomas Philliars. A woman in Charleston, S. C. bogged for eighty dollars to bury her husband: A be nevolent lady visited the house to take her the Money. Itt a darkened apartment lay the corpse; the widow vas crying and every thing looked very melancholy. She left the money aid departed, forgetting her parasol. Returning She 'found 'the corpse carefully coitititig thir Motley. Tur, LATEST STYLl.—Orie . of the very 1a• test sly!is of ladies' hats now Wein ie called the obtlfrev dish." 'They are a cress betyieea the sriapping tartle's shell and the wash pan. They ;amino .nico : • I',Wltat . makes you look eo gram, Torn?"— "Oh, r bad to `endure. a sad trial - to feel lOgift?'": 4 1What on earth was it ?" had to: tie on a pretty girl's bon net.Abiloler ma !s aalooking on." 'INIThat is tbo diffeience t.vrilt.' a watch and d'ieddeir bed., Satia?"Dunna,- gin it . up.' ißckiiseide tickeo de watch i 9 io de i--- n. Bide, and de tieken.ob de fedd.er bed am on de . o e4ido• Yf,444/.. Fo tbo Training of -Linda --Drink whis k-el; and spencLati ynur time at the saloona. / I bis will drain plu of all your lauds in a ataort timp. 'When a ofitteman etareg at a lady, ad ahaltareslat.hito, thay t :ate:apt to mount to the' rPgiotcl Sif 191°' by 11 Pair or nail& .... • 'SDate staviees the ,kirbs pot to aiatMp ht,leitognitils, , heoautie they _&l.haya hay . 4goed .vicesk • • Ilavor boafide meorets to your reativpa b 194 will tell. . . affiga NTWER 24
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