The Irish standard. [volume], September 10, 1887, Image 8

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

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THE DAY SHE DIED.
BY LUIiAH ItAOSDALE.
All as she left it within her room
Her footstool here where she used it last
Her chair drawn near to the plants in bloom—
The time of flowers will soon be past.
Here is her work-box. and white ae milk
Her velvet cushion lies by its side
And a needle threaded witli rose-hued silk
Just as she left it the day she died.
On the sofa there is the dress she wore,
Dainty the sheer soft muslin thing
It suited her tender faca of yore
Because of its tints like the buds of spring,
A crumpled glove on her dressing case.
The print of fingers within it yet,
And about it lingering still a trace
Of violet vague and mignonette.
A ribbon dropped on the carpet near,
Br her own soft lingers its knot was tied:
No one has dared to onter here
Since the sadden, sorrowful day she died.
There on, the table her open book,
And tiie blot of a tear that seems scarcely dried
The story, perhaps, has a sadder look,
Because she read it the day she died.
There- her drawing but half complete:
And open yonder the song she tried:
in the Other Land will ehe sing it as sweet
A she sung it here on the day she died?
And here, afc me! on lu-r writing case.
Her open in and her paper spread,
With a few last words which herh«nd did trace:
Tlirouuh the fall of ray tears they can scarce he
read.
A letter it- is and commenced to me
Oonrai'jiiced to me on the day she died
'•When lo»» grows deathless I'll marry thee."
In Paradise will I gain my bride?
WHEIT THE HEAESE CJOMES BA01L
BY JA.MKS WiUTOOMH KIT.EV.
A thing'at',-: 'bout ius tryin' "es a healthy man
Kin meet
Is sc.me poor folku-'s funeral a jogain' 'long the
-tree)
The Plow hearse and the bosses—slow enough
to say the least,
Fer to even uix the patience of the gentleman
deceased I
The slow scrunch of tne gravel and the slow
grind of the wheels,
Ths slow, rfiow go of ev'ry woe 'at ev'iybody
IV. 0 is
So I ruther like the contrast when I hoar the
whip lash crack
A quickstep for the bosses
When the
Hearse
Comes
Back!
Mcetitgoiu' to'rds the cemet'ry. you'll want
to drap your eyes—
But ef the plumes don't fetch you. efil ketch
you otherwise—
You'Hhax toseethecaskit, though you'd ort
to look away,
And 'conoinize and save yer sighs fer any
other dfiy
Ter armpatliizin' won't wake up the sleeper
from his rest—
Yer tear* won't thaw them Iiand3 o' his atfs
froze across his breast!
And this? is why—when airth and tky'a a-gittin'
blurred and black—-'
I like the whoop and racket
When the
Hearse
Comes
Back!
The Idy! vradin' round here over shoe-mouth
deep ui woe,
When tliey's a graded 'pike o' joy and sun
shine, don't you know 1
"When evenin'strikes the pastur', cows'11 pull
oti I. for the bars,
And sluttish-like from out the dark'IJ pranoe
the happy stars,
And so when my time comes to die, and I've
got ary friend
'At wants expressed my last request—I'll
tnebby, rickommeud
To ditve siow, ef they haf to, goin' 'long the
out'ard track,
But I'll smile and say, "You speed 'em
When the
Hearse
Cornea
Back J"
SALLY CAVANA6H
-OB,-
THE UNTENANTED GRAVES.
A T-A-XJE OP TirsI3HiK,A.K,-y
BY OHABLES J. KICKHAM.
The child of a peasant- yet England's proud
Qneon
Has less rank in her heart and lets grace her
mien." —DAVIS.
'I don't say mv mother is not grand,
for she is grand. Look at her in her
violet velvet, and whqre will you see a
grander woman? But my dear Mrs.
JByans. what is grandeur without sub
limity
'Ton my word, Mr. Mooney, I must
beg
'Don't suppose, Mrs. Evans, that I"
allude to any peculiarities of pronuncia
tion of phraseology, which indeed are
common to both my respected parents.
Ko I refer solely to sublimity, What
is a woman without sublimity And if
my mother possessed the smallest part
icle of sublimity, why tp,lk of the fat
one Is not talking of the fat one ut
terly incompatible with sublimity?'
Mr. Mooney struck the table, and
paused for a reply. Taking silence for
assent, he continued 'To be called an
omadhaun—to be desired to have si use,
Tom Mooney—to be contemptuously
recommended uot to be 'the first fool
of the family.' All this and more I
could hava bome. But the fat one, my
dear Mrs. Evans, the fat one was too
'.much for me.'
Miea Baker?'
•ITot Miss Baker, you know. But the
fat one.'
'And what did they say about her?'
'Say about her,' exclaims Mr. Mooney,
have
his hair standing on end, 'why they
the match made, and I must marry
one.' -isA's-f
*0h,
yes,'
says Mrs. Evans.
Mr. Mooney Mlteyedhijj feelings b,
swallowing a second glass of wine, and
trying to look through the ceiling.
'It was not her beauty,' he began again
'no it was not her beauty, my dear Mrs.
Evans, it was the sublimity of her dis
position. now
are the mother of that most sublime
young lady—you who are not deficient
in sublimity yourself, like mv im
portunate parent—tell me, would there
be a hope for me, the slightest hope, if
I should rebel against parental tyranny
'I fear not, Mr. Mooney,' replied Mrs.
Evans, her pique against her daughter
getting the better of her generalship
'for I believe my daughter's affections
axe already engaged.'
'I thought so,' said Mr. Mooney 'and
just what I said to my mcther when she
proposed the fat one 'mother,' says I.
'my affections are already engaged.'
But what can you expect from a mother
without sublimity? And now,' said Mr.
Mooney, standing up and looking at his
boots and buckskin breeches, 'farewell,
a long farewell to all my greatness:'
'Othello's occupation's gone.' But re
member, my dear Mrs. Evans, it was
not her beauty, it was the sublimity,
the great sublimity of her disposition.'
'You said something,' said Mrs.
Evans, partly out of curiosity and partly
to change the subject 'you said some
thing about a misunderstanding be
tween Mr. Grindem and some person?'
'A misunderstanding,' said Mr.
Mooney,
la
she was
jolly row, very nearly.'
"How did it occur?'
'Why, you see, Grindem rode round
to Thubbermore, thinking the fox would
go that way as usual, fie was in a jolly
passion, and on passing Turcell's house,
just as the hounds were drawn off, be
accused Purcell of driving away the fox.
The fellow paid 110 attentionlto him he
was paying a lot of laborers at the time,
This set Grindem wild, and he rode up
to Purcell, and charged Lim again with
driving the fox away. Purcell said it
was untrue, and Grindem raised his
whip to strike him. Purcell advanced
a step towards him, when a fellow
named Dunphy made at Grindem with
a spade. In fact, only for Dawson
there VI be open murder. Purcell in
sisted that Grindem should apologize,
and of course he did for what else
could he do surrounded by such a lot of
wild savages? Then Tim Croak came up
and told the most extraordinary story
about the fox, and so the matter ended
but I'm thinking Grindem will meet
Purcell for it yet.'
Mrs, Evans held a candle to a bronze
timepiece on a sidetable. and remarked
that it was near eleven o'clock. Mr.
Mooney tnok the hint. 'Good night,
Mrs. Evans,' said Mr. Mooney 'tis all
over-, 'iay lips are now forbid to speak
that once fa,miliar word but do me- the
justice to remember that it was not her
beauty—for what .is beauty? itfe. Mrs.
Evans, it was the sublimity of her dis
position.' Having said this, with hi3
eyes turned devoutly to the ceiling, Mr.
Mooney bowed low and withdrew.
'I really think,' said Mrs. Evans to
herself that I am troubling myself
without cause. Jane,is not such a fool
as not to have forgotten that girlish at
tachment long ago. I wish to Heaven
she were married.'
CHAPTER XIII.
During the foregoing conversation,
the young lady, whose sublimity was so
often referred to,'sat alone in her cham
ber. She took up the old scrap-book
again, and commenced to read the
school-master's story where she had
left off.
'It was necessarv to have the name
and age of each pupil on the roll.
When I wrote down the name of Eose
Mulvany, I turned to her to inquire
what wa3 her age. I hardly knew why,
but 1" could not ask the question, and
put up the book without puttiug down
her age. The next I got two or three
'new scholars,' and when asking their
ages I took courage and said, 'And how
old are you Rose?' She looked up, and
smiling bashfully replied: 'I believe I'm
seventeen and a bit, sir,' and then bend
ing her head she shook down her wavy
auburn hair to hide her blushes. She
fou.ud out a low seat and always sat
upon it, in order, as I saw, to make her
self look, small among the other girls.
I remarked, too, that she always wore
her cloak, for the purpose, as I guessed,
of concealing her well-developed figure.
All this reserve, however, was thrown
aside when I was not present. How
ofteu. did I watch her from the window
during play hours, bounding like a wild
fawn among the children. All the
childreu loved her and it was so in
teresting to see some little creature ex
plaining the lesson to poor Rose, who
would take her tiny instructress up in
her arms and kiss her as a reward for
her trouble. But after a few months
Rose Mulvany could read and write
pretty well, and, in fact, knew as much
as most girls of her age and class.
Every day I felt more and more inter
ested in her but I was pained to observe
that she became more reserved, and
even appeared to stand almost in awe
of me. She would check herself sud
denly in the midst of her wildest glee
on seeing me approach, and shake down
her tresses to hide her face. I used to
stand by sometimes and encourage the
boys and girls at their games in the play
ground but the moment 1 appeared,
Rose would put on her cloak hastily and
steal away.
'After awile I began to call at her
father's house on Sunday evenings.
How glad the kind old couple were to
see mel And Rose, too, was less reserved
on these occasions than at school, but
still
very
timid.
The
thought
•jbfc
AW-«A».4* ^.V ».'
if'
mm- 'M
'v.." •'. v- ,- ',
often oceured to me that she disliked
me but I believe now the contrary was
the case. It was very foolish in me to
torment myself as I did for, as I after
wards remembered, her face always
you who lighted up on seeing me and while I
Jane Evans closed the book.
'And has he been happy?' she mur
mured, She opened the window again,
and watched the stars going down.
And the gray dawn was creeping up
the eastern sky wheu Jane Evans laid
her head upon her pillow.
CHAPTER XIY.
The 'jolly row—very nearly,' of which
Mr. Mooney informed Mrs. Evans, was
very near being an unpleasant affair.
When Brian Purcell was cool enough
t3 review the events of the day dispas
sionately, he congratulated, himself
upon having escaped the necessity of
laying yiolent hands on Mr. Oliver
Grindem. Brian Purcell disliked a
quarrel, and kept out of the way of be
ing insulted as much as possible. He
did so because he could not help feeling
that in the present state of society an
interchange of violent language or vio
lent blows with no matter whom, or for
what cause had something disreputable
about it. It is so easy for any one to
call any one else a scoundrel, and tell
him he lied. And then it requires no
THE IRISH STANDARD: SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 1887.
stayed, though she generally remained
silent, she looked perfectly happy. I
wished very much that my dear mother
should see her, but I was quite afraid
lest she should feel prejudiced against
her. For I noticed that my mother was
quite jealous of everv one who she im
agined might make too deep an impres
sion on me. I believe she thought no
one good enough for me!
'So matters stood, when one day John
Mulvany came into the school and
handed me a letter to read. I read it,
and my heart died within me. A rela
tive had paid his daughter's passage to
America. Rose had an elder sister, a
quiet, good, industrious crirl. Her father
called Rose, and told her to come home
with him. She did not know what was
in the letter, but I believe she guessed
it, for as she went out she looked at me,
and turning round her head, kept her
eyes fixed upon me till her father closed
the door. I never saw her look directly
at me before while I was looking at her.
'One midsummer's day she came with
her father and mother to take leave of
the scholars, shall never forget the
scene. The children clung to her, most
of them crying passionately. Several
of the boys even were obliged to brush
the tears from their eyes as they looked
at her. .For the first time the poor girl
was well dressed: ancl, surely a creature
more radiant never was seen. When
they had gone, I went mechanically
through the business of the day. I
locked the school-room as usual, and
turned my steps homeward. Before
going into my little cottage, I walked
for an hour by the river. I asked my
self should I declare my affection to her,
and ask her to stay and be my wife.
But what reason had I to hope that she
cared for me? And what would my dear
mother think? Was I even sure that
Rose's parents would consent? For,
with all their respect for me, I thought
it quite possible that they would not
consider me a fit match for their daugh
ter. The school-master is thought so
little of in this conn try. ISfo. I had not
the courage to ask Rose Mulvany to be
my wife.
'In the evening I went down to the
bridge, where the people were as
sembled round a bonfire. There was a
dance, too. The sisters were there,
with their arms twined round each ^dismissed
other's waists. There was something
touchingly sorrowful in their faces. I
thought my heart would burst as I
looked at Rose. She was so sad, and
oh! how lovely! You. Mr. Purcell,
were there. A young girl asked you to
dance. After dancing with her, you
looked round to choose a partner, as is
the custom. You asked Rose Mulvany
to dance. I saw her eyes flash with
pleasure. All gloom was gone in an
instant. Surely the pang I felt at that
moment was not caused by jealousy!
But I did feel a pang and. immediately
a gloomy foreboding took possession of
my heart. I moved to the side of
Rose's sister.
'Mary,' said I, 'take care of Rose.'
'She looked at her sister, and then at
me. She took my hand and pressed it
without speaking. I knew she under
stood me.
'I accompanied them home. Oh! the
grief of that poor father aud mother!
For a while it made me forget my own.
I bade farewell to Mary, and kissed her.
I could not do more than take Rose's
hand. Her head dropped and her lips
parted as I did so. As I let go her cold
hand she fell senseless into my arms.
Oh, fool, fool! why did I not save her
then?
'Mary died of fever on the voyage.
Her sister landed in New York. And
—oh, my God! how can I write the
words? Rose Mulveuy, the beautiful,
the innocent, the pure, is a lost, polluted
thing. My life, since I learned her fate.
has been one dream of agony. I have
endeavored, but in vain, to tear her
from my heart. I know she is lost to
me forever. But the thought that she
is lost to virtue and to God—leading a
life of sin, and dragging souls to hell—is
wearing away my life.
'My dear, good mother is gone to rest.
I have laid her besides my father. I
leave Ireland to-morrow. I go to save
Rose Mulvany. If it be God's will that
I succeed, you will hear from me.
Good-by, my true friend, and may you
be happy!5
great heroism to give a man a black eye
or lay a cane across his shoulders, when
the affair must end in a roll in the gut
ter and a bloody nose, or in being bound
over to keep the peace towards all her
Majesty's subjects. Brian dreaded an
insult, too, from Mr. Oliver Grindem,
because he felt be should have satisfac
tion. And what satisfaction could he
have that would not leave a sting be
hind it almost as sharp as the unavenged
insult? The remedy would be almost as
bad a's the disease. Brian's grand
uncle did horsewhip Mr. Oliver Grin
dem's father during an election. But
that was sixty years ago, and his grand
uncle immediately called upon Frank
O'liyan, of Kilnemanagh, when the
following short but pitliv conversation
took place:—
'I'm after horse-whipping Grindem.'
'Very good.'
'Have you everything in order?'
'All right.''
'Of course, if he sends a friend, I'll
refer him to you.'
'Very well I'll stay at home for the
evening to prevent disappointment.'
'Good morning. And let it be as
early as possible, as I must go out to get
voters from the mountain.'
Brian did not regret those fire eating
times. But he could not help thinking
that, as a rule, insulting a man now-a
days was more or less a cowardly pro
ceeding. Therefore, giving or receiving
an affront was a thing which he wished
to keep clear of. But when he remem
bered Mr. Oliver Grindem's ashy face
while he uttered the necessary apology,
with white lips and glaring eyes, Brian
felt that he had a deadly enemy.
'I'm not in his power, thank Heaven/
he thought. 'I am independent of him.'
Yet it was the very independence
which made the landlord hate him.
His grandfather had giyen a large sum
of money for a lease, renewable forever,
ofCoolbawn and the idea that there
was one tenant on bis own property
whom he could neither get rid of nor
make tremble before him, was gall and
wormwood to Mr. Oliver Grindem.
Brian's father, however, had no lease,
and as his landlord was head and ears
in debt, he felt a vague sort of alarm,
lest by some unlucky chance his enemy
should get possession of the estate ot
which Ballycorrig formed a part.
'If he does,: he thought, 'there will be
no mercy for us, and my poor father's
heart will be broken. Howeyer,'—we
are almost tempted to suppress the vul
gar adage with which Mr. Brian Purcell
the unpleasant subject—
'however, 'ti time enough to bid the
devil good morrow when you meet him.'
The fire blazed pleasantly and the
blaze was reflected all round the old
fashioned parlor on the old-fashioned
mahogany furniture. Here we are again
tempted to suppress something, for we
dearly wish that this young man should
stand well with our readers. Mr. Brian
Purcell took an ordinary tobacco-Dipe
from the chimney-piece, and having
lighted it, began to smoke. Moreover,
at his elbow was a drinking-glass (com
monly called a tumbler), with an am
ber-colored mixture in it that smoked
too. And now, having made a clean
breast of it, we can proceed with our
story with a clear conscience.
That half hour on Knockclough Hill
was fruitful of sweet and bitter fancies.
He foolishly twisted his neck into a
very grotesque and painful position for
the purpose of looking at his left shoul
der. However, she was so preoccupied
with the hunt, might she net have rested
her hand on his shoulder inadvertently?
Of course she might. But then, when
he looked round at one time, he found
that her eyes, instead of following
hounds and huntsmen, were bent upon
him with a dreamy sort of look, as if
she was trying to remember something.
'Bah!'exclaimed Mr. Brian Purcell,
putting his pipe to his lips. But the
pipe had gone out, and its bowl was
quite cold, so that he must have been
brooding deeply lor some minutes at
least. He had recourse to the pipe for
the purpose of driving away a thought
which kept hovering round and round
him, coming nearer and nearer, as if it
wToukl nestle in his bosom. The thought
was—that Jane Evans loved him still.
A thought which, we warn our gentle
man. is not to be frightened away with
a 'bah.'
Time has so far healed the old wound
that he tries to persuade himself that
the pain which it used to give him a few
years ago was not real,—was nothing
more than a dream.
'Yet, why should I deny it?' he said
to himself. *1 did suffer. But I have
proved that time aud an ordinary share
of strength of mind can cure the worst
cases of this kind. However,' said
Brian Purcell after another pause, 'I
began to fear that a relapse is possible.'
\Ve know what would render a re
lapse impossible in his case and we
have some hopes that he will try it.
But he certainly has not tried it yet,—
that is as far as he knows.
(To be Continued.)
The whole country east of Mexico,
Nevada, was on fire recently. The farms
of W. F. Reed and Earl Cunningham
were swept by the flames, and but for a
corn field which stopped the flames,
thousands of acres would have been
burned. The loss is very heavy. The
fire caught from an engine on the Chi
cago & Alton. There has been no rain
there since the 2nd of July.
Southern papers call attention to the
numerous openings for small industries
In
the south.
'J"' '.**• ,-v
academic
terms
f-
UNRIVALLED EQUIPMENT!!
A FIRST -CLASS LINE IN EVERY RE
SPECT
THE ROYAL ROUTE
CHICAGO, ST. PAUL, MINNE
APOLIS & OMAHA, AND
CHICAGO & NORTHWESTERN RY'S,
makes a specialty of its SLiBEPINQ,
PARLORaadDININQcar
service, covering ai.l the principal
points of the system,
FIGR No OTHER LINE CAN
SHOW SUCH A RECORD.^
READ and BE CONVINCED
BETWEEN
ST. PAUL and MINNEAPOLIS and
EAU CLAIRE, MADISON, JANES
VILLE, aud CHICAGO. Two trains
a day each way, with through sleep
ers and dining cars.
DULCTTH, SUPERIOR and ASHLAND.
Night trains each way with through
sleepers. Morning trains each way
with through parlor cars
CITY,
ATTFLFTRSSOR TO BALDWIN BROWN,
Single or double teams, with open
20 Second Street N.E
I
The CHICAGO,
MILWAUKEE
& ST. PAUL K'Y
Is the Fast-Mail Short Line from
St. Paul and Minneapolis via La
Crosse and Milwaukee to Chicago
and all points in the Eastern States
and Canada. It is the only line
under one management between St.
Paul and Chicago, and is tbe Finest
Equipped Railway Li the North
west. is the on urje running
Pullman Drawing Room Sleeping
Cars with Luxurious Smoking
Rooms, and the Finest Dining Cars
in the World, via the famous "Riv
er Bank Route," along the shores
of Lake Pepin and the beautiful
Mississippi River to Milwaukee and
Chicago. Its trains connect with
those of the .Northern lines in the
Grand Union Depot at St. Paul.
No Change of Cars of any Class be
tween St. Paul and Chicago. For
through tickets, time-tables, and
full information, apply to any cou
pon ticket agent in the Northwest.
R. Miller, General Manager J. F.
Tucker, Assistant General Mana
ger A. Y. H. Carpenter, General
Passenger and Ticket Agent Geo.
Heafford. Assistant General Pas
senger and Ticket Agent, Milwau
kee. Wis, W. H. Dixon, Assistant
General Passenger Agent, St. Paul,
Minn.
ACADEMY OF OUR LADY OF LOUIDES
[(.'ON'Ij UGTED ny THE SlH'i'KtU.' OF ST. Fit AN'CIS 1,
ROCHESTER ^I3SF3T.
ouNCiL BLUFES
Ciaii-e Express,
Chicago Nitfht Express—
Milwaukee, Chieapro,
and
SIOUX
OMAHA
way.
PIERRE.—Sleeping car to Tracy.
ST. JOSEPH, ATCHISON, LEAVENWORTH
and KANSAS CITY. Through Pullman
Through sleeping cars each
Buffet sleepers.
MANKATO, DES MOINES, CHARITON,
ST. JOSEPH, ATCHISON, LEAVEN­
WORTH and KANSAS CITY. Through
combination chair aud sleeping cars.
KASOTA,MANKATO.ST.JAM.ES, WOKTH-
INGTON, SIBLEY, LEMABS,and Sioux
CITY. Day trains each way with ele
gant parlor cars.
This service has been arranged with a single
view to the comfort and convenience of the tra
veling public, and offers the best and most lux
urious accommodations between the above
named points.
Fortune vable6and all other information ap
ply to any ticket agent, or to
T. W. TEA8DALE, Gen'l Pass. Agent
J. 8. McCULLOUGH, M. M. WHEELED,
Asst. Gen'l Pass. Agt. »Travl'g Pass. Agent.
ST. PATJL, MINN?
C. L. Barry, contractor and builder,
Stone and brick a specialty. 725 Uni
versity avenue northeast. 3$
^tJli,)fclsh,
or closed
sent to any part of the city on short notice.
First-cJass Hearses for funerals at reasonable rates.
All horses sold from our stables guaranteed as repre
sented, Telephone. 690-2.
Northern Pacific Railroad
NMW OVERLAND llOVTB
Portland, Oregon, aad the Pacific JNfortiiwest
The "Pioneer Line" between St. Paui, Min
neapolis, Moorhead and Fargo, aivl tiio ONLY
line running Dining' Cars and Pullman sleep
era between" those points.
r.EPAHTT'XG TRAINS.
3:30
OKbkosh,Fonrl du Lac,
Neenah, Waukesha &
Eau Claire
Prentice an 3 As land...
Chicago Fast Express—
From Chicago, Mil
waukee, Oshkosh, Fond
du Lac and Neenah...
Prentice and Ashland....
Chippewfi Falls and Eau
ff
carriages,
Leave Leave
St. Paul.jMin'eapolifi
4:35 in
8:4S a
3:85
Ps eiftc Express (Dai ly)...' 4:00 rai
Far«,o Ex. (Daily ox. Sun)i 8.15 a raj
Jamestown Ex. (Dally) °:'8:'i0
Dining ears, Pullman sleepers, elegant day
coaches, second-class coaches, and emigrant
sleeping cars between Kt. Paul. Minneapolis,
Far ro, Dak., and all points in Montana and
Wash injfton territories. Emigrants are carried
out. of St. Paul and Minneapolis on Pacific Ex
press, leavinc dailv at 4 p.
ARRIVING TUAT.K.S.
JVtLi nFic Express 'Da ily)...
8t. Paul and Minneapolis
fast Exprec(Daily)
St. Paul and Minneapolis,
e.ec. (daily ex. Sunday).!
Arrive Arrive
Min' epollg-jst. Paul.
11:50 a mi 12:25
7.15 a mj 7:05 a
6:10 m! 6:i5p
*Do not run west ox Fartro on Sundays.
City ofliee, Rt Paul, 166 East Xnird street.
City office, Minneapoiis. No. :t Nicollet House.
CHAS. S. PEE,
Oeaeral Passenger and Ticket A^'oot.
Wisconsin Central Line.
The Palace, Sleeping and Parlo/ Car
Route to Chicago.
Departing Trains—Proii^inne^Ks St." pJtuiT
Chicago Day Express—
Milwaukee, Chicago,
OsbkOH_h,Fonddu LacJ
Neenali, Waukeeha &
Eau Claire al2:10
Chippewa Falls and Eau
al2:15
4:20
7:35p
7:85
Arriving Trains^At"
0^.
a 8:35
a 8:15 ra
St. PauLlS
Minne'p'lis
a 7:50 a
a 7:50 a
Claire Express
Chicago Day Express—
From Milwaukee, Chi
cago, Oshkosh, Nee
nah aud Fond du Lac..
a 7:15 a rn
a 7
:L5 a ra
bl2:55p
bl!2:00
a 4:20
a 3:40 pm
A daily, except Sunday.
Cbicag-# Day x. arrives at Chicago 7.00 a m.
Chicago Jught Ex. arrives at Chicago. 11.25 p. m.
.. CITY OFFICES.
Minneapolis No. .19 Nicollet House mock
corner of Nicollet and Washington avenues
.. F.H.ANSON.
st poni
8t®"*
ants'HotelBlock.
N. Finnev,0-
Passenger Agent.
1Mrd
8treet' Mer0h~
E*
R0
xSba^KER
Sent'
General Manager, General Passenger and
Milwaukee. Ticket Agent.
LAKE VIEW A0ADEMX
Of Individual Instruction, Sauk Center,
Minn.
The above school is one of INDI
VID AL INSTRUCTION. No classes ex
inoyeview:
work done students
recite alone backward students recite
alone private rooms, and thus their
fre spared, No matter how
backward a young man is we can help
hmi. It is especially adapted to boys
o?lyT?,men
who
cannot go toscbools
openI?g'
They can come to
oui Academy and enter at any time and
each one begin for himself, and take UD
such studies as he needs most. In So
school in the State can young men learn
book-keeping and penmanship? thr
oughly, owing to our system. I3oys and
-young men, before you go to any other
school or college, write us forcES
We board The Acadlnw
-sssfig-ourstudents.temptations
separated from the of
towns and cities. We have large play-1"
grounds, and our college farm of one
hundred and seventy-five acres give
advantages not found in all schools.'
£^i!±°?L1?:_?3tho.li bot au denom-
iiMMi