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