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The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, September 17, 1903, Image 6

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CHAPTER XVIIIContinued.
Rayburn's face was as white as that
of a corpse. The paper dropped from
his hand and he stepped down into the
crowd. He was himself no loser, but
the Bishops had lost their all. How
could he break the news to them Pres
ently he began to hope faintly that old
Bishop might within the last week have
drawn out at least part of the money,
but that hope was soon discarded, for
he remembered that the old man was
waiting to invest the greater part of
the deposit in some Shoal Creek cotton
mill stock which had been promised
him in a few weeks. No the hope was
groundless. Alan, his father, Mrs.
Bishop andAdele.
Miller's heart sank down into the
very ooze of despair. All that he had
done for Adele's people and which had
roused her deepest, tenderest gratitude
was swept away. What would she
think now?
His train of thought was rudely bro
ken by an oath from Barnett, who
with the rage of a madman suddenly
threw his shoulder against the door.
There was a crash, a groan of bursting
timber and breaking bolts, and the
door flew open. For one instant Miller
saw the ghastly face and cowering
form of the old banker behind the wire
grating, and then, with a scream of
terror, Craig ran into a room in the
rear and thence made his escape at a
door opening on the side street. The
mob filled the bank and did not dis
cover Craig's escape for a minute
then, with a howl of rage, it surged
back into the street. Craig was ahead
of them, running toward the church,
where prayer meeting was being held,
the tails of his long frock coat flying
behind him, his worn silk hat in his
convulsive grasp.
"Thar he goes!" yelled Barnett. And
he led the mob after him, all running
at the top of their speed without real
izing why they ^ere doing so. They
gained on the fleeing banker, and Bar
nett could almost touch him when they
reached the church. With a cry of
fear, like that of a wild animal brought
to bay. Craig sprang up the steps and
ran into the church, crying and groan
ing for help.
A dozen men and women and chil
dren were kneeling at the altar to get
the benefit of the prayers of the min
isters and the congregation, but they
stood up in alarm, some of them with
wet faces.
The mob checked itself at the door,
but the greater part of it crowded into
the two aisles, a motley human mass,
many of them without coats or hats.
The traveling evangelist seemed shock
ed out of expression, but the pastor,
Mr. Lapsley, who was an old Confed
erate soldier and used to scenes of vio
lence, stood calmly facing them.
"What's all this mean?" he asked.
"I came here for protection," whined
Craig, "to my own church and people.
This mob wants to kill metear me
limb from limb."
"But what's wrong?" asked the
preacher.
"Winship," panted Craig, his white
head hanging down as he stood touch
ing the altar railing"Winship 's ab
sconded with all the money in my
vault. These people want me to give
up what I haven't got. Oh, God knows
I would refund every cent if I had it!"
"You shall have our protection," said
the minister calmly. "They won't vio
late the sacredness of the house of God
by raising a row. You are safe here,
Brother Craig. I'm sure all reasonable
people will not blame you for the fault
of another."
"I believe he's got my money," cried
out Barnett in a coarse, sullen voice,
"and the money of some o' my women
folks that's helpless, and he's got to
turn it over! Oh, he's got money hid
Bome'r's, I'll bet on that!"
"The law is your only recourse, Mr.
Barnett,!' said the preacher calmly.
"Even now you are laying yourself lia
ble to serious prosecution for threaten
ing a man with bodily injury when
you can't prove he's wilfully harmed
t ftftft ft ft ft ft 4* 't'ftftft*ftft*I
i
By...
WILL N.
HAR.BEN
Author of *f
"tOesUrfett"
Copyright, 1902. by A
HAMPER. BROS..
Who Publish the Work
In Book Form. AH
Rights Reserved
i*
Tiie words told on the mob, many of
them being only small depositors, and
Barnett found himself without open
support. He was silent. Rayburn Mil
ler, who had come up behind the mob
and was now in the church, went to
Craig's side. Many thought he was
proffering his legal services.
"One word, Mr. Craig," he said,
touching the quivering arm of the
banker.
"Oh, you're no loser," said Craig,
turning on him. "There was nothing to
your credit"
"I know that," whispered Miller, "but
as attorney for the Bishops I have a
right to ask if their money is safe."
The eyes of the banker went to the
ground.
"It's goneevery cent of it," he said.
"It was their money that tempted Win
ship. He'd never seen such a large pile
at once."
"You don't mean" But Miller felt
the utter futility of the question on his
tongue and turned away. Outside he
met Jeff Dukes, one of the town mar
shals, who had been running and was
very red in the face and out of breath.
"Is that mob in thar?" he asked.
"Yes, and quiet now," said Miller.
"Let them alone. The important thing
is to put the police on Winship's track.
Come back downtown."
"I'll have to git the particulars from
Craig fust," said Dukes. "Are you
loser?"
"No, but some of my clients are, and
I'm ready to stand any expense to
catch the thief."
"Well, I'll see you in a minute, and
we'll heat all the wires out of town.
I'll see you in a minute."
Farther down the street Miller met
Dolly Barclay. She had come straight
from her home, in an opposite direc
tion from the bank, and had evidently
not heard the news.
"I'm on my way to prayer meeting,"
she smiled. "I'm getting good to please
the old folks, but" She noticed his
pale face. "What is the matter? Has
anything"
"Craig's bank has failed," Rayburn
told her briefly. "He says Winship has
absconded with all the cash in the
vaults."
Dolly stared aghast. "And you
you"
"I had no money there." broke in
Miller. "I was fortunate enough to es-
cape."
"But AlanMr. Bishop?" She was
studying his face and pondering his
unwonted excitement. "Had they
money there?"
Miller did not answer, but she would
not be put aside.
"Tell me," she urged "tell me that."
"If I do, it's in absolute confidence,"
he said, with professional firmness.
"No one must knownot a soulthat
they were depositors, for much de
pends on it. If Wilson knew they were
hard up, he might drive them to the
wall. They were not only depositors,
but they lose every cent they have
$25,000 in a lump."
He saw her catch her breath, and her
lips moved mutely, as if repeating the
words he had just spoken. "Poor
Alan!" he heard her say. "This is too,
too much after all he has gone
through!"
Miller touched his hat and started
on, but she joined him, keeping by his
side like a patient, pleading child. He
marveled over her strength and won
derful poise. "I am taking you out of
your way, Miss Dolly," he said gently,
more gently than he had ever spoken
to her before.
"I only want to know if Alan has
heard. Dodo tell me that."
"No he's at home. I shall ride out
as soon as I get the matter in the
hands of the police."
She put out her slender, shapely hand
and touched his arm.
"Tell him." she said in a low, uncer
tain voice, "that it has broken my
heart. Tell him I love him more than
I ever did and that I shall stick to him
always."
Miller turned and took off his hat,
giving her his hand.
"And I believe you will do it," he
said. "He's a lucky dog, even if he
has just struck the ceiling. I know
him, and your message will soften the
blow. But it's awfulsimply awful!
I can't now see how they can possibly
get from under it."
"Well, tell him," said Dolly, with a
little, soundness sob in her throat, "tell
him what I told you."
if ji *ff ij x^
CHAPTER XIX.
HAT afternoon the breeze
swerved round from the
south, bringing vague threats
of rain. About 3 o'clock Alan,
uncle and his mother and father
were out in the front yard looking at
the house with a view to making some
alterations that had been talked of for
several years past.
"I never had my way in anything be-
fore," Mrs. Bishop was running on in
the pleased voice of a happy child,
"an' I'm glad you are goin' to let me
this once. I want the new room to jut
out on this side from the parlor an'
have a bay window, an' we must cut
a wide foldin' door between the two
rooms. Then the old veranda comes
down, an' the new one must have a
double floor, like Colonel Sprague's on
the river, except ours will have round.
his
THE FB^CETOK TIKION: THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 1903.
square,
white coluix-tis instead o'
they do cost a trifle more."
"She knows what she wants," said
Bishop, with one of his infrequent
smiles, "an' I reckon we'd" save a little
to let her boss the job ef she don't
hender the carpenters by too much
talk. I don't want 'em to put in a stick
o' lumber that ain't the best."
"I'm glad she's going to have her
way," said Alan. "She's wanted a bet
ter house for twenty years, and she
^serves it."
"I don't believe in sech fine feath-
ers," said Bishop argumentatively. "I'd
a leetle ruther wait till we see whether
Wilson's a-goin' to put that road
through. Then we could afford to put
on a dab or two o' style. I don't know
but I'd move down to Atlanta an' live
alongside o' Bill, an' wear a clawham
mer coat an' a dickey cravat fer a
change."
"Then you mought run fer the legis-
latur'," spoke up Abner Daniel, who
had been an amused listener, "an' git
up a law to pen up mad dogs at the
dangerous part o' the yeer. Alf, I've
always thought you'd be a' ornament
to the giddy whirl down thar. William
was ever' bit as green as you are when
he fust struck the town. But he had
the advantage o' growin' up an' sorter
ripenin' with the place. It ud be hard
on you at yore time o' life."
At this juncture Alan called their at
tention to a horseman far down the
road. "It looks like Ray Miller's mare,"
he remarked. "This is one of his busy
days. He can't be coming to fish."
"Railroad news," suggested Abner.
"It's a pity you hain't connected by
telegraph."
They were all now sure that it was
Miller, and with no little curiosity they
moved nearer the gate.
"By gum, he's been givin' his mare
the lash," said Abner. "She's fairly
kivered with froth."
"Hello, 3-oung man!" Alan called out
as Miller dismounted at a hitching post
just outside the fence and fastened his
bridle rein. "Glad to see you. Corne
in."
Miller bowed and smiled as he opened
the gate and came forward to shake
hands.
"We are certainly glad you came,
Mr. Miller," said Mrs. Bishop, with all
her quaint cordiality. "Ever since that
day in the office I've wanted a chance
to show you how much we appreciate
what you done fer us. Brother Ab will
bear me out when I say we speak of
it mighty nigh ever' day."
Miller wore an inexpressible look of
embarrassment, which he tried to lose
in the act of shaking hands all round
the group, but his platitudes fell to the
ground. Abner, the closest observer
'You must stay to early supper any
way, Mr. Miller."
among them, already had his brows
drawn together as he pondered Miller's
unwonted lack of ease.
"Bring any fishing tackle?" asked
Alan.
"No, I didn't," said the lawyer, jerk
ing himself to that subject awkwardly.
"The truth is, I only ran out for a little
ride. I've got to get back."
"Then it is business, as brother Ab
said," put in Mrs. Bishop tentatively.
Miller lowered his eyes to the ground
and then raised them to Alan's face.
"Yes, it's railroad business," said Ab
ner, his voice vibrant with suspense.
"And it's not favorable," said Alan
bravely. "I can see that by your
looks."
Miller glanced at his mare and lashed
the leg of his top boots with his rid
ing whip. "No I have* bad news, but
it's not about the railroad. I could
have written, but I thought I'd better
come myself."
"Adele!" gasped Mrs. Bishop. "You
have heard"
"No she's well," said Miller. "It's
about the money you put in Craig's
bank."
"What about that?" burst from old
Bishop's startled lips.
"Craig claims Winship has abscond
ed with all the cash. The bank has
failed."
"Failed!" The word was a moan
from Bishop, and for a moment no one
spoke. A negro woman at the wash
place behind the house was using a
batting stick on some clothing, and the
dull blows came to them distinctly.
"Is that so. Ray?" asked Alan, calm
but,pale to the lips.
"I'm sorry to say It is."
"Can anything at all be done?"
"I've done everything possible al
ready. We have been telegraphing the
Atlanta police all morning about trac
ing Winship, but they don't seem much
Interested. They think he's had too
big a start on us. You see. he's been
gone two days ana nights. Craig says
he thought h* was on a visit to rela
tives till he discovered the loss last
night."
"It simply spells ruin, old man," said
Alan grimly. "I can see that."
Miller said nothing for a moment,
then:
"It's just as bad as it could be, my
boy," he said. "I see no reason to
raise false hopes. There is a strong
feeling against Craig and no little sus
picion owing to the report that he has
been speculating heaviljv but he has
thrown himself on the protection of
his church, and even some of his fel
low members, who lose considerably,
lire standing by him."
Here old Bishop, with compressed
Zips, turned and walked unsteadily in
to the house. With head hanging low
and eyes flashing strangely, his wife
followed him. At the steps she paused,
her sense of hospitality transcending
her despair. "You must stay to early
supper anyway, Mr. Miller," she said.
"You could ride back in the cool o' the
evening."
"Thank you, but I must hurry right
back, Mrs. Bishop," Miller said.
"And Dollydoes she know?" asked
Alan, when his mother had disap
peared and Abner had walked to the
hitching post and stood as if thought
fully inspecting Miller's mare. Miller
told him of their conversation that
morning, and Alan's face grew tender
and more resigned.
"She's a brick!" said Miller. "She's
a woman I now believe in thoroughly
she and one other."
"Then there is another?" asked Alan
almost cheerfully, as an effect of the
good news that had accompanied the
bad.
"Yes. I see things somewhat differ
ently of late," admitted Miller in an
evasive, noncommittal tone. "Dolly
Barclay opened my eyes, and when
they were open I sawwell, the good
qualities of some one else. I may tell
you about her some day, but I shall
not now^ Get your horse and come to
town with me. We must be ready for
any emergency."
Abner Daniel came toward them. "I
don't want to harm nobody's charac-
ter," he said, "but whar my own kin is
is concerned I'm up an' wide awake.
I don't know what you think, but I
hain't got a speck o' faith in Craig
hisse'f. He done me a low, sneakin'
trick once that I ketched up with. He
swore it vras a mistake, but it wasn't.
He's a bad eggyou mind what I say
he won't do."
"It may be as you say, Mr. Daniel,"
returned Miller, with a lawyer's re
serve on a point unsubstantiated by
evidence, "but even if he has the mon
ey hidden away, how are we to get it
from him?"
"I'd find a way," retorted Daniel
hotly, "so I would."
"We'll do all we can," said Miller.
Daniel strode into the house, and
Alan went after his horse. Miller stood
at the gate, idly tapping his boot with
his whip.
"Poor Mrs. Bishop," he said, his eyes
on the house. "How very much she
resembled Adele just now, and she is
bearing it just like the little girl would.
I reckon they'll write her the bad
news. I wish I was there tosoften
the blow. It will wring her heart."
That evening after supper the family
remained till bedtime in the big, bare
looking dming room, the clean, polished
floors of which gleamed in the light of
a little fire in the big chimney. Bish
op's chair was tilted back against the
wall in a dark corner, and Mrs. Bishop
sat knitting mechanically. Abner was
readingor trying to reada weekly
paper at the end of the dining table,
aided by a dimly burning glass lamp.
Aunt Maria had removed the dishes
and with no little splash and clatter
was washing them in the adjoining
kitchen.
Suddenly Abner laid down his paper
and began to try to console them for
their loss. Mrs. Bishop listened pa
tiently, but Bishop sat in the very co
ma of despair, unconscious of what
was going on around him.
"What's the use o' talkin' about it?"
he said impatiently. "What's the use
o' anything?"
He rose and moved toward the door
leading to his room.
"Alfred," "Mrs. Bishop called to him,
"are you goin' to bed without holdin'
prayer?"
"I'm goin' to omit it tonight," he
said. "I don't feel well one bit. Be
sides, I reckon each pusson kin pray
in private according to the way they
feel."
Aimer stood up, and, removing the
laiEp chimney, he lighted a candle by
the flame.
"I tried to put a moral lesson in what
I said just now," he smiled mechanical
ly, "but I missed fire. Alf's sufferin'
is jest unselfishness puore an' unde
filed. He wants to set his children up
in the world. This green globe is a
sight better 'n some folks thinks it is.
You kin find a little speck o' goody in
mighty nigh ever' chestnut"
"That's so. Brother Ab," said his sis
ter, "but we are ruined nowruined,
ruined!"
"Ef you will look at it that way," ad
mitted Abner, reaching for his candle
"but thar's a place ahead whar thar
never was a bank or a dollar or a rail
road, an' it ain't fur ahead nuther.
Some folks say It begins heer in this
life."
CHAPTER XX.
m^7i^i^W5ii^^mM.M^^^M^^k^f J^H^vJHfc^Jlll^^
S Abner Daniel leaned over the
rail fence in front of Pole Ba
ker's log cabin one balmy day
two weeks later he saw evi
dences of the ex-moonshiner's thrift
lessness combined with an inordinate
love for his children. A little express
wagon, painted red, such as city chil
dren receive from their well to do par
ents on Christmas, was going to ruin
under a cherry tree which had been
bent to the ground by a rope swing
fastened to one of its flexible boughs.
The body of a mechanical speaking
floll lay near by and the remains of a
toy air rifie^ After a protracted spree
Pole usually came home laden down
with such peace offerings to his family
and conscience. His wife might go
without a needed gown and he a coat,
but his children never without toys.
Seeing Abner at the fence, Mrs. Baker
came to the low door and stood bend
ing her head to look out.
"I heerd at home," said Abner, "that
Pole was over thar axin' fer me. I've
keen away to my peach orchard on the
hill."
"Yes he's been over thar twice," said
the woman. "He's back of the house
some'r's settin' a trap fer the children
to ketch some birds in. I'll blow the
horn, When I blow twice, he knows
he's wanted right off."
She took down a cow's horn from a
nail on the wall, and, going to the door
on the opposite side of the house, she
gave two long, ringing blasts, which
set half a dozen dogs near by and some
far off to barking mellowly. In a few
minutes Pole appeared around the cor
ner of the cabin.
"Hello, Uncle Ab," he said. "Won't
you com*5
in?"
"No hain't time," smiled the old
man. "I jest come over to see how
much money you wanted to borrow."
"I don't want any o' yo'rn," said
Pole, leaning over the fence, his un
buttoned shirt sleeves allowing his
brawny, bare arms to rest on the top
rail. "I wanted to talk to you about
Alan an' that bank bu'st up."
"You've been to town, I heer," said
Abner, deeply interested.
"Yes, an' I've been with Alan an'
Miller fer the last week tryin' to do
some'n', but we couldn't. They've been
sendin' telegrams by the basketful, an'
Jeff Dukes has trotted his legs off back
an' forth, but nothin' hain't been done."
"You say the' hain't?" Abner's voice
quivered and fell.
"No. They both kept up the'r sperits
purty well fer about ten days beca'se
that dang Atlanta chief of police kept
wirin' he was on a scent o' Winship,
but day before yesterday they give in.
We was a-settin' in Miller's office when
the last message come from Atlanta.
They said they'd been after the wrong
man an' that they'd give up. \ou ort
'a' seed Alan's face. Miller tried to
cheer 'im up, but it wasn't no go. Then
who do you think come? Alan's sweet
heart. She axed to see 'im, an' they
talked awhile in the front room. Then
Miller come back an' said she'd axed
to be introduced to me. Jest think of
it! I went in an' seed she'd been a-cry
in\ She got up, by jinks, an' ketched
my hand an' said she wanted to thank
me beca'se I'd been sech a friend to
Alan! Uncle Ab, I felt as mean as a
egg sockin' dog, beca'se thar was Alan
flat o' his back, as the feller said, an' I
hadn't turned a hand to he'p 'im. An'
thar she was, the gal he loves an'
wants, an' 'is poverty standin' betwixt
'em. I couldn't say nothin', an' I reck
on I looked more kinds of a durn fool
than she ever seed on two legs."
"Well, what did you do?", asked Ab
ner, too much moved by Pole's graphic
picture to speak with his usual light
ness.
"What did I do? I made my bow
an' slid. I made a beeline fer Murray's
bar an' put two down as fast as they
could shovel 'em out. Then I tuck an
other, an' quit countin'. I begun to
think I owned the shebang an' broke
several billiard cues an' throwed the
chalk around. Then Dukes come an'
said he'd give me a chance to escape
trial fer misconduct ef I'd straddle
my boss an' make fer home. I agreed,
but thar was one thing I had to do
fust. I had promised Alan not to
drink any more, an' so I didn't want
to sneak away to hide it. I went to
Miller's house, whar he's stayin', an'
called 'im out. I told 'im I'd jest come
fer no other reason 'an to let 'im see
me at my wust. I felt like it was the
only manly way, after I'd broke faith
with a friend as true as he is."
"Too bad!" sighed Abner. "I'll bet
it hurt Alan to see you in that fix."
"Well, he didn't complain," said Pole.
"But he put his arm around me an'
come as nigh cryin' as I ever seed a
strong man. 'It's my fault, Pole,' ses
he.
4I can see that.' Then him an'
Miller both tried to git me to go up
stairs in that fine house an' go to bed
an' sleep it off, but I wouldn't. I
come on home an' got mad at Sally fer
talkin' to me an' come nigh as peas
hittin' 'er in the jaw. But that's over,
Uncle Ab. What I'm in fer now is
work. I ain't no fool. I'm on a still
hunt, an* I jest want yore private
opinion. I don't want you to commit
yorese'f unless you want to, but I'd
go more on yore jedgment than any
man's in this county. I want to know
ef you think old Craig is a honest man
at heart Now don't say you don't
know an' keep yore mouth shet, fer
what I want to know, an' all I want to
know, is how you feel about that one
thing."
Abner hung his head down. His
long thumb trembled as its nail went
under a splinter on the rail and pried
it off.
"I see what you are a-drivin' at" he
said. "You jest want to feel shore o'
yore ground." Abner began to chew
the splinter and spit out the broken
bits. He was silent, under Pole's anx
ious gaze, for a minute, and then he
laughed dryly. "I reckon me 'n' you
has about the same suspicions," he
said. "That p'int's been worryin' me
fer several days, an' I didn't let it end
thar nuther."
"Ah, you didn't?" exclaimed Baker.
"You say you didn't, Uncle Ab?"
"No I got so I couldn't lie down at
night without the idea poppin' into
my head that maybe Craig had made
a tool of Winship fer some minor crime
an' had hustled 'im out o' the country
so he could gobble up what was in the
bank an' pose as a injured man in the
community."
"Same heer, pine blank!" said Pole
eagerly. "What did you do, Uncle
Abr
"Jest satisfied myself that Alan's
Great Northern Railway.
PAUL, MINNEAPOLIS, PRINCETON
AND DUL.UTH.
GOING SOUTH. GOING NORTH.
Leave.
Duluth 6:20
Brook Park.. 9:30
Mora 9:50
Ogllvie 10:03
Milaca t0:23
Pease (f) 10:40
L. Siding(f). 10:
Brickton (f).10
Princeton 10:55
Zimmerman. 11
Elk River.... 11
Anoka 12
Minneapolis. 12:40
Ar. St. Paul. 1:05
RETAIL.
Vestal, per sack 12.55
Flour, (100 per cent) per sack 2.45
Banner, per sack 2.00
Rye flour 1.90
Ground feed, per cwt 1 20
Coarse meal, per cwt 1.15
Middlings, per cwt 1.05
Shorts, per cwt 95
Bran, perewt |s6
A.11 goods delivered free anywhere in Princeton.
PRINCETON CAMP, W A.
No. 4032.
Regular meetings 1st and 3rd Saturdays of
each month, at 8:00 p. M., in the hall at Brick
yards. Visiting members cordially invited.
NED C. KELLEY, V. C.
J. F. ZIMMERMAN. Clerk.
I
I Dr. C. F. Walker's
Dental Parlors
now located
in the
Oddfellow's
new building,
where
Dr. Walker
will attend
to his
Princeton appointments from the
ist to 20th
of each
month.
In Cambridge
aist to 28th
of each month,
office over
Qouldberg &
Anderson's
store
i
^Bp^kw^art^a^gb^t^^
4
Leave.
a.m. a.m. a.m.
a.m. a.m.
a.m.
St. Paul 2
Minneapolis. 3
Anoka 3
Elk River.... 4
Zimmerman. 4
Princeton.... 4
Brickton (f). 4
L. Siding (f). 4
Pease (f).... 5
Milaca 5
Ogilvie 5
Mora 5
Brook Park. 6
Ar. Duluth.. 9
50 a.m.
54 a.m.
a m.
15 a.m.
35 a.m.
00 a.m.
p.m. p.m.
:35p.m
:05 p.m.
:45 p.m.
:11p.m.
29 p.m.
:46 p.m.
51 p.m.
55 p.m.
:05p.m :20 p.m
:41 p.m
:54p.m :15 p.m.
:25 p.m.
(f) Stop on signal.
ST. CLOUD TRAINS.
GOING WEST.
Le. Milaca 10:23a.m
Bridgeman 10:3ea.m.
Ar. St. Cloud 11:23a.m.
GOING EAST.
Le. St. Cloud I 4:20 p.m.
Bridgeman 5:12p.m.
Ar Milaca 5:10p.m.
MILLE LACS COUNTY.
TOWN CLERKS.
Bogus Brookp. E. Gustaf son Princeton
BorgholmJ. Herou Bock
GreenbushR. A. Ross Princeton
HaylandAlf red F. Johnson Milaca
Isle Harborotto A. Haggberg isle
MilacaOle Larson Milaca
MileR. N. Atkinson Foreston
PrincetonOtto Henschel Princeton
RobbinsC. Archer Vineland
South HarborEnos Jones Cove
East SideGeo. W. Freer Opstead
OnamiaArthur Wiseman Onamia
PageAugust Anderson Page
VILLAGE RECORDERS.
J. M. Neumann Foreston
W. Goulding Princeton
C.H.Foss Milaca
NEIGHBORING TOWNS.
BaldwinH. B. Pisk Princeton
Blue HillThomas E. Brown Princeton
Spencer BrookG. C. Smith. ..Spencer Brook
WyanettJ. A. Krave Wyanett
LivoniaChas. E. Swanson Zimmerman
PRICES OF E
Princeton Roller HillsTHani Elevator.
Wheat, No. 1 Northern 85
Wheat, No. 2 Northern 83
Corn Oats, new.
.55
.32
A
FRATERNAL. LODGE
NO. 92, A. & A. M.
Regular communications, 2d and 4th
Wednesday of each month.
B. D. GRANT, W. M.
A. B. CHADBOURNE, Sec'y.
a PRINCETON-:-LODGE,
N O. 93, of
Regular meetings every Tuesday eve
Qing at 8 o'clock.
T^, r, CW. VANWORMER, C. C.
JOHN A GRAHEK, K. R. & S.
O. M.
Tent No. 17.
Regular meetings every Thurs
day evening at 8 o'clock, in the
Maccabee hall.
W. G. FREDRICKS, Com.
N. M. NELSON. R. K.
Hebron Encampment.
No. 42,1.0. O.F.
Meetings, 2nd and 4th Mondays
at 8 o'clock p. M.
M. C. SATJSSER, C. P.
D. W. SPAULDING, S. W.
Jos. CRAIG, Scribe.
PRINCETON LODGE
**&&&*. NO. 208,1. O O.
Regular meetings every Fndav evening at 7:80
clock. L. S.*BRIGGS, N. G.
E. E. WHITNEY, R. Sec.
'\^\^&M^'- I

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