The Irish standard. [volume], July 24, 1886, Image 6

About The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920

Image provided by: Minnesota Historical Society; Saint Paul, MN

                
v»n
W\
Si
5 $
I!
II
I
5?
I!
ij
I
MARY LEE.
—OR
THE
FE Pr E EG ASS.
PAUL
Shandy McG-uirt
wife." etc
Autbor
spte-
('Continued.)
CHAPTER XIII
''Yes and thefooiiKII boy is now suioe
-,vhere in the neighborhood, I under
stand.5'
"Saw him myself, and ft devilish ne
locikiiia' fellow he is—saw him at the
lighthouse yesterday."
"Is it. possible! and you didn't arrost
Lirxi as in duty bound? You're a pretty
magistrate, indeed. Why, captain, I
nniBt report you to the government as an
abettor of treason."
"Nonsense—I'm not a policeman, to
carry handcuffs in my pocket."
"But you might have ordered his ar
rest."
•Humph! when I. order the arrest of a
fine young fellow like that, whose only
crime is to love his country, I shall be
HO
longer TOJJ Petersham, Still, it' he
happens to be brought before me, vou
kiiow, as justice of the peace, aud
fully identified, I must commit him.
•'Of course you mast. The boy is
acting very rashly iu coming here at all,
fitter all the warnings he haw had."
•'He must be a bold fellow, knowing
there's a reward of three hundred
•pounds offered for his capture.''
I wished to mercy he could be induced
io quit the
country
4
'Aad what of supper?':
•'On the table, sir ."
"Oome then, my dear friend,1' said
the captain, taldug the priest iamiliarly
by the arm "let us pick a bone togeth
er before you leave. Kate, go ask Dr.
Hensliaw to join us. Where's Mr. Guir
kie, come forth—come forth, thou man
of indescribable sensibilities,"
Bat Mr. Guirkie had left the parlor a
few moment* before, and was now mak
ing arrangements with the steward for
the &ftfe conveyance of the African, to
G.Tet'X'..mouut next morning. He soon
made his appearance, however, and
Mued the captain and the priest in a
jriaas of wine. It was all the refresh
neiit they ventured to accept, as Hen
tshuw still doggc-diy rejected every at
tempt to conciliation.
"Well, good by, doctor," said the
good-uatuved captain, accompanying
the party to the steps of the hall door
••I'm sorry you leave us in anger—but I
ow you 'll think better of it t.o»ai nuvnv.
Good by, sir."
The distinguished reviewer growled
something reply.
"Kate,'1 said the priest "don't ne
glect to cultivate the acquaintance of
Mary Lee, nor forget to read that book
I lent you on the beauties of the Cath
olic religion."
"Never fear," replied. Kate and then
having promised Uncle Jerry to see par
ticular care taken of his poor African,
she waved her hand in adieu, and the
carriage drove oft at a gallop down the
venue.
CHAPTEK XIV.
A severe alUek of fever, resulting
from the hardships he endured in the
l:tle boat, had
now
confined the little
cabin boy to hia room, at the lighthouse
for several days, during which Mary
Lee was his constant attendant, hardly
ever leaving him, day or night.
Dr. Camberwell had called to see the
pfttient several tirueie, and as often
found Mary patiently watching by his
bedside, with the fidelity aud affection
of a sister.
The room in which the boy lay was a
small apartment on the north side of the
lodge, directly over the Devil's Gulch,
and looking out on the far-famed Swilly
i'lock. Beyond it, in the distance ap
peared the rugged outline of Malin
Head, casting its deep shadow far out
into the sea, and frowning a sulky defi
ance at each passing ship as she rounded
the dangerous bluff. It was to avoid
that headland the ill-fated
wSaldana
ran for a harbor, and struck on Swilly
Bock. On that rock she lost her helm
aud masts, aud then, broken np by the
fury of the ocean, drifted in fragments
to the shore.
Every soul on board perished, that
night, but one little infant, now a lovely
girl of eighteen, her eyes turned to the
fatal spot, was praying for the little
•wrecked cabin boy, lying beside her.
She was kneeling before a crucifix, with
a rosary in her hand, and old Drake,
resting his nose on his shaggy paws, was
peering up in her face.
Suddenly she turned, and looked to
wards the bed.
"Sambo—Sambo,"muttered the boy
"where are you. Sambo?"
Mary rose., and advancing to the bed
side, laid her hand gently on the fore
head of the little sufferer—it was burn
ing hot.
"Sambo, dear Sambo,'' he again re
peated,
,klet
us return home. Mother
calls me."
"It's the crisis," murmured Mary
"six hours more will terninate the. con
test between life aud death. O Mother
of. God, Mother of our Redeemer," 6he
added, "save this wandering boy."
•'What's that you're doing, Sambo?5'
muttered the boy "you scald me with
drops of lead,"
"'Hush, hush," whispered Mary in
his ear. '"Keep quiet I'm with you."
"Take me home. Sambo, take me
home.''
•'Where'?"
"Where! to Old Virginny. There it
is, right before you clon't you see the
old Potomac? Massa .shan't blame you
a mite—it was all my fault, and I'll tell
him so. Won't yon take me back, Sam
bo?"
"Yes, to-morrow—to-morrow but
koep still now, or I must leave you."
Mary then applied a napkin steeped
iu vinegar aud water to his burning
temples, and after smoothing iris pillow,
was returning to her seat neat* the win
dow, when :.ll of ,i sudden she found
herself clasped iu the arms of Kate
Petersham.
"Kate!''' she exclaimed "'is it possi
ble?"
Yes—your o.vn Kate—aud I
now a thousand times better
vet-
for a time, for lie
happen to betaken. Mary will break her
heart.
'•Well, he shall be arrested, you may
depend on it, sooner or later. Three
hundred pounds these hard times, is a
strong temptation. Why, this very of
ficer, iu the house now, chased him two
days ago from Buncrona to Lambert's
Point."
''Carriage at the door," cried a ser
vnnr.
love
than
'•You won:t scold me, will you?"
"Scold yon! for what?"
"Xot going to see yon, according to
promise."
"And abandon your little charge
there. No, no, Mary, I know your
heart too well for that. But I must
scold you. sor something eise, Mary. I
must scold you for staying he-re so con
stantly in the sick room."
"There's no danger in the world,
Kate.''
"DangerI Why, Dr. Ciimbevweli says
it's typhus fever, and of the most malig
nant kind."
"Weil, but, dear Kate, you need not
feel the least concern about that, for I
am not afraid of it and you know where
there's no fear there's no danger."
'"I don't know any such thing. On
the contrary I:m sure, you're running a
great risk.''
"Not the slightest. The Mother of
God will protect me."
"Ah, you can't be certain of that."
"Quite certain. She never forsook me
yet."
"But if you've acted imprudently and
res lily, why should she protect you?"
"Listen to me, Kate, and when I tell
you how all obis happened, you'll say
there's something mysterious iu it. It
was just eighteen yeai's, to the hour,
since the wreck of the Saidana, the night
this poor boy was east ashore on Bally
benvtu Strand. The circumstance
struck me as something strange when I
heard it mentioned by the warren -keeper
in the cabin, and pondering over it as I
v.'iit the lips of the little mariner with a
spoonful of wine and water, the idea oc
curred to me that the Blessed Virgin
had committed him to my special care.
You may smile, Kate, but the provi
dence of God haa its own ways aud
means of accomplishing its ends. 'How
very like my own fate is this little wan
derer's!' said I 'perhaps he, too, hus
neither father nor mother left to watch
over him.' Just as I muttered these
words to myself, he raised his eyes to
mine, and seemed to make such an ap
peal to my heart that I couldn't for the
the life of me, say a syllable in reply.
So I only nodded a promise. He un
derstood it though, perfectly, and smiled
his thanks as I gave it
"And you feel bound by that, prom
ise," said Kate, ''though not a word
was exchanged between you."
"O, indeed, as for that, Kate, I be
lieve I had made the promise to the
Blessed Virgin bafere he looked at me
at all. For why should lie have been
cast ashore that night, of all she nights
in the year, and consigned to my care
too, by the doctor, if there hadn't been
something myate.riaus in it?"
•'And now, you're prepared to risk
your life to save his?"
"No, no," replied Mary, throwing her
arm around her companion's neck, and
leaning her head gently on her bosom—
no, no dear Kate, there's no risk for
me, since the Queen of Virgins has
promised to save me."
"But may not this be superstition?"
"Superstition! O Kate, Kate, if you
only felt for one short hour the blessed
hopes which the Mother of God inspires
in the hearts of her suffering children,
you would speak less coldly of our
beautiful religion. Indeed, Kate, only
for the consolations I have drawn for the
last six years from that pure fountain of
pity and love, I should long since have
sunk under the weight of my sorr&ws."
"Ah," responded Kate, compassion
ately "you've had sorrows enough,poor
child."
',And yet, strange as it may seem, it's
the cheerfulness with which he bears his
misfortunes that wounds me the most.
"His misfortunes! What do you
mean?"
"My uncle."
"O, I thought you were speaking of
your own griefs."
"No I never had anything to grieve
for but him—he is ail the world, though,
to me: for indeed, I think, Kate, he
loves me more than hia life."
"Don't wonder much at that, Mary."
"To sea him falling, step by step,
from the proud position he once occu
pied among the best and noblest of the
laud to see his friends—alas! they were
sorry friends—deserting him day after
day to see iiis creditors, who were wont
to come to him bowing in lowly rever
ence, now insolently rebuking him for
his reckless extravagance to see his
stables empty, his hounds all dead and
gone, his servants forsaking him one by
one and to' see himself smiling and
happy-looking as a bridegroom in the
midst of all that desolation,—O, Kate,
it was that which almost broke my
heart."
"0.u the contrary, Mary, I think it
should have consoled you to see him
bear his misfortunes so bravely."
"Ah, yes but. it's all deception—an
outward show. He only affects to be
happy on ray account."
"You may be mistaken, Mary it's his
natural disposition, perhaps."
"O, no," replied the gentle girl: "I
can toll his very thoughts, though he
fancies them hidden from all the world.
Often have I watched his countenance
as lie read over those insulting letters
of his creditors, and seen how he
struggled to hide his indignation under
a smile. And
noAv,
The door opeued, and Else Curley.
wrapped in her old gray cloak, entered
the room.
Without uttering a word of recogni
tion or apology, she advanced to the
bed, and laid her withered hands on the
temples of the patient. Then, having
satisfied herself as to the progress of the
disease, she turned slowly round, and
throwing back her hood, addressed Miss
Petersham in her usual hoarse, hollow
tones:
"Young woman, why are you here?"
she demanded.
"That's my own affair," replied Kate.
"By what right do you ask?"
'The right which the age and experi
ence of eighty yews give me. I have
seen many a faver, girl, my time, but
niver jet so dangerous a faver as this.
Away from the room—it's no place for
idle visitors."
"And pray, old woman, what reason
have you to feel so much concern for my
safety?''
"The raison's too ould." replied Else,
"to spake of now. Yer grandfather, if
he lived, cud hardly remimber it. But
here," she continued, drawing apiece of
folded paper from her bosom, "read
this, and judge for yourself, if it's at
Araheera Head ye ought to be."
Kate took the paper from her hand,
and accompanied Mary to the parlor.
"Ha!" said Else, now that she found
herself with the sick boy 'if he hasn't
lost his senses, I'll try what can be done
to clear up this mystery. If the nigger
started back frightened, as Lanty says,
when he first seen Weeks at Mr. Guir
kie's, he must -know something about
him and accordin to the accounts, the
uiggar and boy come from the same
plantation. Ay, ay there's a hole in
that wall somewhere worth the ferretin.
-Look up, she continued, touching the
lad on the arm with her forefinger—
"look up and spake to me."
"Who's that?" murmured the boy,
turning on his side, and gazing at the
old woman "are yeu Sambo?"
"Ay, I'm Sambo."
"You're not Sambo—niggar Sambo."
'•Don't you know me?"
"Yes, but you sure you're Sambo—
very sure you're Sambo Nelson?"
THE IRISH STANDARD: SATURDAY, JULY 24, 1886.
Kate, they have
found us out at last,"
"What—discovered yotu* retreat?"
"Yes and threatened Mr. Lee with
arrest, if their demands are are not im
mediately satisfied. One man has bought
up several of his bonds, and demands
payment before the first of next month."
"And what's to be done? Can my
brother do anything to avert the blow?
Shall 1 speak to him on the subject?"
"Not for the world. Kate."
"And why so? you know he loves
your uncle."
"Yes, but for that very reason he
would be the last man of whom he
should ask a favor."
"To whom, then, will you apply fox
help?'
"I have applied already, Kate, to a
dear friend.''
"You nave?"
"Yes to one who never refused me in
my need."
"Ah! I understand you. Indeed! And
you expect succor from her. But why
not apply to the Redeemer himself—the
fountain of all goodness?"
"Because, dear Kate, I fear I'm not
worthy to approac-h him and I know,
besides, he will hear the prayer of the
Mother who bore him sooner than
mine."
"Then you apply to her merely as an
intercessor? Why, I always thought
you expected aid directly from herself."
"Kate, Kate, how often have I told
you the eon trary!"
"Yes but I have heard it preached
about so often in your pulpits.''
"Hush! some one knocks,. Oome in."
"Quite sure—and what is your
name?"
"My name—my name's Natty."
"Natty what!"
"Natty Nelson."
"And where's your father?"
"My father—my father—well, let me
see, my father—where's my father?"
"Where doe3 he live?"
"Who?"
"Your father."
"Sambo, Sambo, whisper don't be
afraid he shan't flog you."
"Who shan't flog me?"
"Father—old Danger, you know. So
take me back to old Virginny—take me
back, mother calls me. Listen, ain't
that the wash of the old Patomac against
the ship's side?"
"Hush! don't speak so much, Natty—
tell me, Natty."
"Ay, ay, sir, by the mark—seven—
send all bands aloft—take iu sail."
"Else, finding it now impossible to
draw any further information from the
boy, took a small vial from her pocket,
and pouring a few drops of the contents
into a spoon, gave it to her patient.
'•'There,'' she muttered, "that'll make
you sleep for the next hour: and when ye
waken, if yer senses haven't come back,
I'll try some other manes to rache the
sacret." Then drawing out her stock
ing, she sat down on a low stool by the
bedside, and commenced her knitting.
"This is a very pretty piece of paper
indeed," said Kate, looking at the ad
dress as she entered the parlor.
"To her ladyship, Miss Petersham,"
"Go3d, so far now for the inside. Eh!
what in the name of all the fairies is
this? 'Lanty Hanlon is my'name,and Ire
laud is my nashiu, Donegal is my dwill
in plas, and heaven is my xpectashin.
His expectation, the villain! Ha, ha! if
heaven were full of angels like him. I'd
rather be excused from joining the com
pany. It must be the fly leaf of the fel
low'B prayer book. But hold, here's
something on the other side."
"This ie to let you no, that"—here
Kate suddenly dropped dropped her
voice, and read over the remainder in
silence—"Randal Barry lies woondid
and a prisner iu Tamny Barries, i'll
meet yer ladyship this evening at the
oastil about dusk, behint the ouid boat
house, no more at presint
but remanes your abaident to oommaa
LANTY HAIIIION."
"Anything amiss?" inquired Mary,
as Kate finished the readiug of the pre
cious document— "you look alarmed."
"Alarmed! do I? O, no, it's nothing
particular."
"Lanty's full of mischief--been play
ing you some trick, perhaps.''
"Lanty! no, no—it's a mere trifle I
must get home, however, as soon as pos
sible. Please ring for Roger—I want
him to call the cockswain."
As Mary turned to ring the bell,
Roger made his appearance at the door,
carrying the old silver salver, and
awaiting the command of his young mis
tress to enter.
"Come in Roger what have you got
there?" said Kate.
"A little refreshment, please, madam.
Mr. Lee sends his compliments to Miss
Petersham."
"Is he at home?"
"No, madam ., he went out in the Ara
heera a few miuutes ago, and gave or
ders to have cake and wine sent in be
fore he left."
"What kind of wine is it, Roger?" in
quired Kate, smiling over at Mary as
she put the question.
"Ahem! what kind, madam? why,
it's a it's a very delaceous currant
wine- very pure and delicate."
"Indeed!"
"And just twenty-five years old next
Christmas. No, I make a mistake there
—hem! twenty-four years next Christ
mas— ahem! just twenty-four years—
exactly*"
"0, it don't matter," said Kate, laugh
ing "a year, you know, is nothing."
"It's the wine Lady Templeton ust to
like so much when she visited the cas tle,
if you remember," observed Roger, bow
ing to his mistress.
"Currant wine's but a sorry beverage
at best, Roger," said Kate, mischie
vously.
"Well, perhaps, ladies you would pre
fer champagne or sherry?"
"O, no no, Roger, don'l trouble
yourself."
"No trouble in life, ma'am only just
say so, and I'll be happy to serve them.
But if you try this here, you'll find it
delaceous."
"Very well we must taste it on your
recommendation and now, Roger, send
my men aboard—we must ^ave in
stantly.
When the old servant left the room,
Mary laid her hand on Kate's shoulder
and looking at her affectionately, again
expressed tier fears that something was
wrong at Castle Gregory,
"Nothing, Mary—nothing whatever.''
"And yet you look deeply concerned.
Has Captain Petersham or Mrs. Wil
loughbybeen sick?"
"No, no, dear child, they're both
quite well. It's something I must at
tend to before to-morrow, having no im
mediate relation to any of the family."
(To be continued.)
.Removal.
Dr. B. P. O' Brien, iate physician ana surgeon
of St. Barnabas Hospital, bas removed to 31
Washington avenue south. Telephone 48-4.
4%&\hL
J!*
I VIE A
BEVEESING AN OX TEAM.
Unci© Trip
Pete Dnsran's Perilous
Over a Hough Road.
Uncle Pete Dngan, of Friendship, N.
Y., is one of the oldest engineers on the
Erie Railroad. He has followed boating
and railroading from boyhood and" is
ignorant of the country and its ways as if
he had never been outside of a city street.
His wife and son, Tommy, live on a
small hill farm just out of town. During
the past, week business has been dull on
the road and Uncle Pete lias been enjoy
ing a short vacation with his family.
Tommy has a very fine yoke of oxen, and
is as expert in driving them as his father
is in managing a locomotive. On the day
after his father's arrival Tommy yoked up
his oxen for the purpose of drawing a load
of wood. Uncle Pete was anxious to go
with him and learn the process of "run
ning the bulljines." The woods were
about half a mile from the house and
up a steep hill. The up trip passed very
pleasantly, and Uncle Pete praised Tommy
very highly on his skill as a driver. When
they were ready to return Tommy fixed a
secure seat for his father on the load, where
he could hold on to one of the binding
chains and a stake to steady himself. As
soon as they were fairly headed for home
Tom gave the oxen a sharp cut with the
whip and sent them scrambling down the
road at a lively gait.
''Easy, Tom, easy," said the old man,
hugging closer to the load.
'•Git up, Bright, git up, Buck!" shouted
Tom, giving them another cut.
"Easy, Tom. Drop 'er in easy, I tell
you, or you'll ditch us as sure as thunder.
But Tom kept on plying the whip until
they were dashing down the hill at a full
canter.
"Slack up! Slack up!" cried the old
man, pulling at the binding chain as if
giving the signal for down brakes.
"Can't slack 'em," shouted Tom. "Hang
hard and you're all right."
They were now within a few rods of the
woodshed, and the old man, accustomed
to the guidance of the iron rails, saw no
escape from smashing into the building.
Tom was still swinging the whip and
shouting at the top of his voice. Uncle
Pete became frantic. Catching Tom by
the arm he cried out:
"Tom, you breakneck villian, throw
'em over- for Heaven's sake reverse
'em or we're gone to smash."
Tom brought up at the door of the wood
shed with the oxen panting and blowing
like volcanos. The old man clamored
down from liis perilous seat, walked
around the oxen, eyed them suspiciously
and then confronting his son, said:—
"Tom, these machines may be all right
for light grades and short runs, but if you
have got the pluck to ride 'em over such
roads as these without reverse or brakes
you beat the old man, that's all."
THE POPULAR HAN.
The Person Wlio is Successful In So»
etal and Business Life.
The man who succeeds is the popular
man—the person who has hosts of ac
quaintances and who does not hesitate to
ask a favor any more than he does to do
one. He cultivates his acquaintances and
blossoms out before each one. He is
always glad to see them and always has a
smile and. a pleasant word. Beyond a
certain point be is intimate with none,
knowing that a man with strong friend
ships is sure to have some decided ene
mies, and an enmity often is most, incon
venient. There is nothing hypocritical in
all this. The popular man is what he
seems to be. He wishes well to every cue,
himself included, and he would do no one
an ill turn. He wishes no one to do him
harm. His desire is to make things pleas
ant to others, that others may make
things pleasant unto him. He does not
ncglect the harder work of life. If lie is
in a profession he studies diligently for
soma hours each day, when there is no
opportunity to cultivate the social part of
his nature or to render his relations with
others more friendly. If he is in trade he
does not- neglect to learn his business
thoroughly from the bottom up. What
he docs he does well, no matter how small
it is. Such a man is sure to command
success. He is thorough, and can be de
pended upon in purely business relatione^
and in his social life he charms and at
tracts his acquaintances, so that every
one wants to help him. If he is a young
lawyer the elderly men, to whom he is
always deferential in manner, think of
him first when a little legal business
comes in their way that will pay him well
but is too small for them. He gets the
job. If he is a young broker, speculators
remember that he is a good fellow, and
knowing that he is honest and capable
give him their commission, even in pre
ference, perhaps, to a more repellant ac
quaintanee who is more conveniently at
hand. If a social gathering is lacking iu
one member he is always thought of as
the one to fill the vacant place. Women
smile on him, and his chances of marrying
well are tenfold better, even if he is poor,
than a sedate and quiet man of possibly
much force of character.
In NebraHKa.
Bishop O'Connor, of Nebraska, says his
diocese"Contains a population of 800,000,
of whom about 70,000 are Roman Catho
lics. Of these the Bohemians number 30,
000, the Irish come next, and' the remain
der are Russians. Eighty-seven priests
ministernnder him. There are seven re
ligious orders of women in the diocese.- In
Omaha there is an endowed college under
•charge of the Jesuits. The climate is fine
and bracing. The thermometer rarely
reaches 15 deg. below zero in winter, and
only occasionally parses 1Q0 deg. in
summer.
Asking too 1Wucb.
Woman (to tramp). "If you'll shovel off
the sidewalk, an' saw that pile o' wood,
an' pump a tub o' water, an' fill the wood
box, I'll give ye a cold bite when yau get
through."
Tramp (sadly). "Madam, it 1 were to put
anything cold on my stomach after all that
exercise, I would have a fit of indigestion
that would stagger the whole medical pro
fession. I am not an ostrich, madazn,
nor an Englishman. Good-morning."
Recognizing Merit.
Lady physicians in France are in high
spirits just now. One of their number,.
Mine. Sarrante, has been appointed by M.
Turquet, the Under Secretary of State at
the Beaux Arts, to be one of the official
physicians attached to the National Opera
House in Paris. Such a distinction has
never been gained by a lady doctor in
France before.
A Family Dlealogne.
Paterfamilias—My boy, I shall have to
punish you for breaking this vase.
Sister Nellie—He didn't break it, papa.
Paterfamilias—How do you khow?
Sister Nell—(triumphantly)—I saw him
didn't!
The'Hfghcst Point In Massachusetts.
The State Survey finds Mfc Graylock,
500 feet, to be the highest point in Massa
chusetts.
Subscribe
for
The Irish {Standard.
THE GREAT
War':-1PanoraMa
THE
OF
Fn-st Avenue South and
fifth
Street,
MINNEAPOLIS.
Open Daily from 8 A.M.to10 P. Iff.
Pronounced bv competent criticism
the MOST VIVID, REALISTIC AND
GRANDEST WAR PANORAMA yet pro
duced.
ADMISSION—Adults, 50c Children U-n
der 15, 25c.
A. SANBORN,
Manufactures Jewelry,
Repairs Watches,
and Loans Money.
On Watches, Diamonds and Jewelry.
NO. 8 WASHINGTON AVE. NORTH.
Turkish, Russian, Electric, Medicated, Sham
pooing, Hot aud Cold
BATHS.
Ladies' day, Tuesday, from 9 a. in. till 4 p. m.
Gents' hours, every day, except ladies' day,
froju 6 a. in. to 'J p. m. Sunday, from a. m.
to I p. m. Private room for ladies and children.
Hair cuttinR and shampooing.
Scheig & Svheig, Proprietors.
Turkish. $1 Russian, $1 Electric, §1.25
Shampoo Bath, 50 cts.: massage treatment.Sl.&O.
M. J.
LALLY. T. F. LALLY.
J1 .OXill
IMPORTERS,
Wholesale awl Retail Dealers iu
my uymt
LIQUORS AND CIGARS,
113 WASHINGTON AVE, SOUTH
MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA.
Branch house, corner Sibley am1 Seventh
streets St. Paul.
P. J. DONOHOE,
Contractor
Btiilder
AND
Plans and estimates furnished for al! classes of
buildings.
2011 BLOOMINGTON AY. S.
Alterations and Repairs Promptly Executed.
Dr. W. C. Wickings
New York Dental Rooms,
Room No. 5, Mackey-Legii Block,
400 JSTICOLLET AVENUE,
MINNEAPOLIS, MINN. TAKE
THE
ELEVATOR
A. P. McCARRON,
Painte
T*
House Painting, Graining' and Kalsomining cn
short notice and l^asouab.erutes.
37 South Sixth Street, Minneapolis.
ARCADE.
6. W. SAWYER, Proprietor.
Imported and Domestic
WINES, LIQUORS AND CIGARS,
48 THIRD STREET SOUTH.
PROBATE NOTICE,
STATE
OF MINNESOTA, County of Henne
pin—Probate Court.
In the matter of the estate of Patrick Slevin,
deceased.
On reading and filing the final account of
Catherine Slevin, administratrix of said de
ceased, and her petition praying for the allow
ance of said account and for a decree assigning
the residue of said estate to the persons bylaw
entitled to the same.
It is ordered, That said petition be heard at a
general term of this Court, to be held at the
Court House in the City of Minneapolis, in said
county, on Monday, the 2d day Of August, 1886,
at 10 o'clock in the forenoon and that notice
of such hearing be given to ail persons inter
ested, by publishing this order at least onoe in
each week for two successive weeks prior to
said day of hearing, in The Irish Standard, a
newspaper printed and published in said
county:
Dated at Minneapolis this 13th day of July,
1886.
By the Court: A. UELAND,
J. It.
CORRIGAN,
Attorney for estate-
Judge of Probate.
T. CONNOLLY & GO.
UNDERTAKERS.
A FULL LINE OF
I
HABITS, SHROUDS AND ROBES.
2$ Second St. S., Minneapolis.
Telephone call 466-1. Answered at all
$
•4