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The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, October 12, 1883, Image 1

Image and text provided by South Dakota State Historical Society – State Archives

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn99068076/1883-10-12/ed-1/seq-1/

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best located
town in Southern
Dakota, being situ
ated near the cen
ter of Brule County,
in the midst of the
farming and
country in
the world. 'Hie
proof of which has
been fully demon
strated in the mag
nificent crops of the
past few years.
Is located on the Main Line of
the Chicago. Milwaukee & St.
Paul Railroad, 4i miles west of
Mitchell and 22 miles east, ot
Chamberlain. It has a line pub
lie school building', jrootl church
es, a first-class postolliee. two
banks, two jrood hotels, one
large grain elevator and mate
rial on the around for another,
•ee lumber yards,'ail arryin^
immense stocks several black
smith shops, good livery stables,
and stores representing all
brandies of trade. Still the
country demands more and to
live men great inducements are
offered to invest in this
Beautiful Town
The Brule County Agricul
tural Vair Grounds adjoin the
townsite and is one of the best
fair grounds in the Territory,
with a good half-mile track.
And now is the time to iiivest.
Proprietor, of the original town
site, has platted and laid out
three additions, all adjoining
with,a continuation
and alleys. Part of
in acre lots, so as to
classes to be suited in procuring
a residence lot. The most, de
sirable blocks on Main Street
.are still for sale to those who
desire to engage in business, and
great' inducements are offered
of streets
which are
enable all
that, class of men.
The climate in this part of
Dakota is everything to be
desired and is nilly as mild
as that of Ohio, Indiana and Il
linois, with, perhaps, a less num
ber of cloudy days. The rain
fall is abundant, and always
court's wh'Mi most needed. The
water is free from any alkali
taste and as pure as any found
in any oft he Eastern States. Irt
short, the country, climate and
fjcial advantages make this one
1" the best, it hot the very Lest,
county Dakota for the emi
For furtlur particulars, call
on or address
"Bt vti?'» -«w:^'.
'i 'i
Good Livery in Connection.
This Hotel, Formerly the Summit House, has been
And is now
In the County.
iThe patronage of the public i3 solicited, guaranteeing satisfaction in every case.
A. P. CILLEY, Proprietor,
The Farmers' Friend.
Mv prices are always the lowest, my goods the best that money can buy. I
cannot and will not bo undersold by any competitor.
We would invite you all to call and be convinced that we are selling more goods
for Que Dollar than any house in Kimball or Dakota. We do our own work, and
consequently our customers do not have to pay extra for eoods to pay clerks. We
are always o.J hand to give you prices on small or large bills, and we never get loft
on prices. We carry a full and complete line of
and SALT.
Our goods are sold so cheap that we never lose any sales. If you do not be
lieve it call and try us. Everybody come. Yours respectfully,
WEEKS WELLS, Kimball, Dakota.
^""V# 7tf
lkK»i^itcfcofetfiSwSliii «-.^
-i i:-
Agricultural Implements.
"Dear father 1 drink no more, I pray,
It makes yon look so sad
Oomo home, and drink no more. I say,
'Twill make dear mother glad.
Dear father think how siok you've been,
What aches and pains yon know:
On, drink no more, and then you'll find
A home where'er yon go.''
Thna spake in tenderness the child—
The drunkard's heart was moved
He signed the plodge, be went, he smiled.
Ana kissed the boy lie loved.
'What time is it Madeline?" asked Gaffer
Hitohoook, oarefully folding the evening
paper, and placing it on the table.
The person addressed—a tell, slender
woman abont thirty-five—looked up from
her knitting,, and answered with a pleasant
"About half-put eight, I believe," and,
rising, began to ouHier wftrk away.
Gaffer's question had been for the last
six years the signal for retiring to rest, and,
although it was full an hour and a half be
fore the usnalhonr, Madeline never thought
for a moment of hesitating to obey.
"Something has occurred," she thought,
"and he will tell me before long for Gaf
fer had looked at his watoh at jight, and a
few minutes after, and at a quarter past had
changed his chair, and couged uneasily, and
now he asked:
"What time is it?"
Madeline was the orphan danghter ot an
old sohoolmate Gaffer had taken her home
with him when she was only ten years old,
and his siBter had oared for her with moth
erly solioitude, until she was wooed and
won by Frank Reynolds and went to a dis
tant city to live. Gaffer had made a terri
ble to-do about her marrying, called her an
ungrateful good-for-nothing, and declared
it was proper punishment for taking her in
the beginning but, nevertheless, spared no
expense on the wedding trossean. And
when, about nine years after, she came
baok to her old home, widowed anrf child
less, Bhe was tenderly welcomed by the
lonely man, for the grass waved over the
grave of the good, true-hearted Bister.
For six yoars she had kept house for him,
cared for him, humorod him, and made
everything bend to his comfort, as few
daughters ever do. Lovers she had in
plenty those who would at any moment
have laid heart,' fortune and hand at her
feet and when Gaffer heard that Madeline
had refused them, he chuckled at their dis
comfiture and smoothed her soft, brown
hair, telling her she was a good girl, every
way worthy of their love, only he knew that
she would never leave him.
He had grown
Gaffer sat for a few moments in perfect
rciience at last, with a violent effort and
with very much the air of a man who had
jUBt made up bis mind to have a tooth palled
"Maddy, I am going away."
"Going awav!" she repeated. "Where to,
The tone of surprise in which the ques
tion was asked fully satisfied Gaffer of the
importance of the revelation.
"Yes! I am going to New York Bonne
hue is going to be married on New Year's
Day, and wapts ne to be groomsman.
Who would have thonght old Bonnehue
would nave got married at last why, he's
at least ten years older than I, and I am
'most fifty. You see, Maddy, child, your
old bachelor friend is not too old to get
married yet. Dreadful pity leap year is
'most over here I am, a hale, hearty man,
in the prime of life, with plenty of money
to support a wife, and no wife forthcom
ing. But what makes you so quiet—don't
you want me to go?"
"No, said Madeline, gravely, "X would
rather you would not so I had made diff
erent calculations for Now Year's in fact,
rather think of getting married myself.'*
"Madeline, are you ornzy?" and Goffer
fairly bounded in his chair with astonish
ment "Why, what will become of the
house? what will become of me? I'll
starve, I know I shall!
"You might live with me," remarked
Maddy, in the same grave, business-like
"You know very well," said Gaffer, testi
ly, "that I never could live with another
man in the house I should put him out be
fore the honeymoon was over. And who
may the happy man be? some blind old do
tard? some conceited dandy? some lame
mendicant? some lazy vagabond who sings
love ditties to carry away Gaffer's money?
Gaffer did not stop for breath, but for
lack of sufficiently expressive words to con
vey his destation of tlie projected union.
"No, said Madeline "he is not blind or
lame, or seeking after your foituue." She
hesitated for a moment, and then contin
ued slowly, "he is neither very young nor
very old, very kind or very oross, very
good or very bad, very rich nor very poor—
but I think he likes me."
"Of course he haB told you so in most
affecting tones muttered Gaffer ironi
"No." she said quietly, "he has not."
"Madeline, ore you' crazy! or going into a
dotage? Why did you not tell mo that you
were so anxious to get married? and I
would have advertised in all the daily pa
pers for a suitable l"ver for a widow not
very far advanced in life, well preserved,
atid anxious to' leave Graffer Hitchcock.
Why dul you not tell me all this?" and. his
face clouded woefully. "Its too bad. Middy I
I would never have believed you would go
away again it was bad enough to leave me
when sister was here, but now, now, why
Maddy I Maddy 1 think betteT of it—do, and
don't leave me alone, child."
Madeline's fingers worked nervouslv! how
she longed for the knitting-work! "Goffer,"
she said without locking up, "perhaps to
morrow you will not feel
O""" n/*
4 +**t
accustomed to seeing
her happy, contented face by the opposite
side of the tire, with some kind of work in
her hands, that occupied neither brain nor
attention, but left her always free to listen
to him when ho spoke, or play cheBB when
the whim seized him, that he felt no fear
at the attentions she received. He seldom
spent an evening from home unless Mad
eline was with him and he had never left
his native city since she came home. He
was thinking of all this to-night, as he
watched her folding her work so carefully.
"What are you going to do, Madeline?"
he asked at last.
"Going top it away my woifc," she an
swered, simply.
"What are you putting it away for?"
"You asked me the time, and that is
equivalent to saying 'I am tired of you,
Madeline go to bed."
"No, it ain't," said Gaffer, gruffly "come
back here, I want to talk with you—there,
let that knitting-work alone. What is it,
that you are in such a hurry to finibh it?"
"Stockings,"answered Madeline, senten-.
tiously "Btockings for Madeline Reynolds.
"Haven't you any more that you make
such a fuss about this pair?"
"Yes, I have a pair on, I believe, and in
case of emergency I could borrow of vou."
badly about it.
It is no sudden thing, my determination to
get married have thought about it tdt
over a year, and yet last night I would have
said there was no telling when the wedding
would take place."
Poor Gaffer seemed perfectly undone at
the news Madeline had imparted, but at
her last words he started from his seat, and
drawing up a chair took a seat in front of
her. "It is not too late then," he said his
foot radiant with hope. "Yon can yet re
treat oh
1 by the memory of paBt days by
the solemn agreement I entered into- with
your father, to guard his little girl by all
the years I have loved and striven to serve
you, do not leave me now you know that
it would be taking away my life to part
with yon." He took the two oold hand in
his. "Will you leave me? Dare you leave
me?" Still no answer. "If yon would be
happy away from me, my dear girl, say so,
and Gaffer will not say another word speak,
Maddy, speak don't mind me.
The faoe of the woman was averted, but
the words,thongh soft and tremulous, were
distinctly beard by the anxious man before
her. "I never said I was going to leave
you If ever I marry again, it will be to be
forever near you."
The look of anxiety on Gaffer's face gave
place to one of bewilderment, and then ut
ter astonishment. "Do you mean what
you say?" he asked.
"I do and it is for you to judge whether
he is a blind old dotard, a conoeited dandy,
or after Gaffer's money."
Then Gaffer rose, walked across the room
and took his old seat, pioked up the even
ing paper, and asked "What time is it?"
"Half-past nine. Good night."
"Good night," he answered, as if nothing
had occurred and Madeline put the knit
ting in her workbasket and left the room.
The next morning at the usual hour, the
bell was rung, and Gaffer walked down to
the breakfast table, in dreBSing-gcwn and
slippers, to see Madeline arranging the cups
and saucers in her own quiet, preoise way
they talked very quietly together until Ma
deline asked: "When ttre you going to
New York, Gaffer?"
"Not till after the first of the montb for
expect to be married on New Year's day
There was nothing more said, and it
Maddy ate little. Gaffer ate less. "Maddy,"
he said, when they had adjourned to the
library, "you area very sensible girl, and I
never knew before last night that I needed
a wife but I am fifteen years older than
you, and what will the world say?"
"Yon suit me," she answered, putting up
her face for a kiss "and we will not invite
the 'world' to the wedding."
"The Fifty-Fourth Virginia at tlio Ferry!"
From the Youth's Companion.
The cry of "On to Richmond" awakened
no enthusiasm in the hearts of the third
Ohio one day when they found themselves
en routo nt) prisoners of war for that famous
capital. Nor were they enthusiastic when
they halted for the night and prepared to
sink supperless into dreamland.
The fifty-fourth Virginia regiment was
encamped near by, and some of the men
oame down to have a look at the "Yanks."
"Had your coffee?" asked one of a blue
coat stretched disconsolately on the bank.
"Not a sup," answered the other.
"Ain't you had any rations to-night?"
"Only a orumb or two from the bottoms
of our haversaoks."
This waB told to the boys of the 54th, and
old Virginia hospitality showed itself at
once. The men soon made their appear
ance with ooffee kettles, corn bread and
baoon, the best they had. In a few min
uteB the ooffee was steaming, the bacon
cooked, the prisoners and captors sat down
together around the camp fire, "like kins
men true and brothers tried." The hungry,
grateful Yankees ate with a relish such as
no one can appreciate unless he has been in
alike situation.
No wonder there
a Warm spot in ev­
ery heart of the 3d Ohio ever afterward for
the generous 34th.
A fresh slide in the magic lnntcrn gives
another of theBe shifting war pictures. In
the distance is Mission Ridge, which ban
just boen stormed. That long line of pris
oners passing over the pontoon bridge and
up the stony mountain road is the 54th Vir
ginia. A soldier on duty at Kelly's Ferry
asked indifferently of one of the prisoners
as the regiment passe :d
"What regiment is this?"
"The 54th Vireinia," was the reply.
In an instant the loungers sprang to their
feet and rushed to camp. "The 54th Vir
ginia is at the ferry," they shouted, as they
ran in and out among the tents of the 3d
The Cnio boys were quick in motion.
Boxes from home and all reserve stores
were speedily ransacked. Coffee and
sugar, beef and canned peaches and the
best they had of everything were freely
brought forth. They remembered grate
fully their debt of honor, and paid
it nobly. It was the same old scene over,
with the shading reversed. For one night
at least both Confederates and Yanks en
joyed agatn tbe sweet grace of- hospitality
that could bring a smile even to the grim
vissage of war.
Th eParroi that Called Out "Mertar."
Opposite the residenoe of Pell's owner
there was some buildings in course of
erection, and the men at the top of the
scaffold were in the habit of calling to
those below for such material as they want
ed, "More brick," "More mortar,"and so
In a very short time Polly had these terms,
by heart, as well as the gruff tones in whioh
they were uttered. No sooner did the
Irish laborer relieve himself of a lead than
tbe everlasting cry, "More" mortar [""as
sailed his ears. Ho bore it with exemplary
patience till the mortar baord at the top of
the scoffold was piled, but again the order
for "mortar—more mortar!" was given.
Then, to the delight of the parrot's master,
who was standing by, tbe man flung down
his hod, and making a speaking-trumpet of
his bands, bawled to tlie bricklayer above
"Is it mor-r-ter mad that ye are? Sure a
man may have as many legs as a centerpig
(centipede) to wait on the 1 o' yea!"
Webster's Love for the Old Home.
Among the various reminiscences of Dan
iel Webster, suggested by (he centennary
of his birth. Jan. 18, is the following ex
tract from Daniel Webster's epeeoh at Sar
atoga the following reference to the home
of his infancy, which has been pronounced
as beautiful a specimen of language as has
been written in the English tongue:
"I love ts dwell on the tender recolleo
tioDB. the kindred ties, the early affeatione
and the touching narratives and incidents
which mingle with all I know of this prim
itive family abode. I weep to think that
none of those who inhabited it are now
among the living and if ever I am ashamed
of it, or if I ever fail in affectionate vener
ation for him who reared it, and defended
it against savage violenoe and destruction,
cherished all the domestic virtues beneath
its roof, and through the fire and blood of a
seven years' revolutionary war, shrunk from
no danger, no toil, no sacrifice, to serve his
country, and to raise ohildren to a condition
better than his own, may mv aam'e and the
name of my posterity. bo blptted xorever
from the memory of mankind!"
"A bouquet, sir?"
Elmer Riohards starts suddenly,
glances apprehensively at the speaker.
Surely there is nothing to fear in the lit
tle pink-iobed figure before him with shyly
drooping eyes, and white dimpled hands
that were n«w enraged in wrapping a bit ot
id the stems of a bunch of
silver leaf aroun
"Bouquet, sir?' she repeats. "Here is
one I amjsuro you will like, myrtle and tea
roses. Shall I air ange it for you?"
He ben^fjforward that she may pin the
blossoms on his ooat. lapel.
He, notices how small and white her hands
are and wishes she would raise her
fringed lids,
"There don't you like it," she says.
"The prioe is a shilling."
Elmer draws a coin from his well-filled
wallet, and lays it on the oounter.
"Keep the remainder for the oause," he
The young girl smiles, and raises her eyes
to his.
Can it be that he, a man of the world,
who has boen admired and sought by doz
ens of beautiful women, has fallen in love
with a pretty flower-seller at a oharity fair?
He moves away, and acoosts an acquaint
ance moving around the brilliant apart
"Who is this young girl with the hand-'
some black eyes—the flower-seller?"
George EUis looks up at his oompanion
with an amuaed smile.
"What, Riohards, aie you smitten?" he
says. "Well, you are by no means the first
one with whom those eyes have made sad
havoo. Her nams is Beatrice Irving."
Irving! Elmer save an involui
Ah, yes, that name is familiar to him,
Elmer Richards starts like a sruilty thing
as this thought oomes to him he knows
why the
lire ended so early why the
little grave was made so soon for her whose
last words were of him—pretty Milly
"Why indulge in these morbid fancies?"
he thinks. "It is a thing of the past now,
and as suoh should be forgotten."
So he dismisses the sad, unpleasant
memories, and leaning baok in his chair,
lights a cigarette, and, watching the curling
smoke-wreathes as they float upwards, he
sees in their midst a dim vision of the rose
tinted faoe of Beatrice Irving, the flower
"What, Richards, are you going to snub
your friends in this manner?"
"Jerry, old boy, is it you?" he ex
claims. 'Pon my honor, I did not know
yen! Step up into my room and tell me the
"Nice place you've got here," says
Jerry, as they enter the luxurious apart-,
"When did you return?" Elmer asks.
"Only two dayBago,"isthe reply, "Been
down to seo tha folks Jets jof joompany
there—a whole household. Oh, by-the
bye, Richards, Esther sent yon an invita
tion to oome down and enjoy yourself!
Nothing else on band have you? No?
Then of course you'll accept. It will be a
good chance for you. Almost a dozen girls,
Esther says, and everyone either a beauty
or an heiress."
"What, are you married?" Elmer in
"No, but esgaged, and that amounts to
about the same thing," Jerry replies.
"Bessie Townsand—don't you remember
her? Well, she's there, too. But say, you
haven't told me whether you are coming or
"Yes, I will oome."
"Soon as possible, mind, says Jerry. "Es
ther will be looking for you.' An revoir!"
He goeB out, and a few moments later El
mer,looking ont of the window, sees his tall
form striding up the street with the same
careless, swingisg gait he remembers ef
A few days later, Elmer Riohards enters
train. enroute for the Trows' oountry resi
dence. That evening he makes a faultless
toilet, and desoends to the lighted rooms.
Esther presents him to the other guests,
and soon ne is
tion with Jen
end. Then Esther oomes and carries him
off- to the conservatory. As they enter, a
recumbent figure rises, and in the dim light
Elmer sees the yellow flash of jewels.
"Are yon here?" cries Esther, "Miss Irv
ing, Mr. Richards,"
The figure takes a step forward, and a ray
of light streaming through the half-open
door, falls upon her faoe, the brilliant faoe
and lustrous black robes of Beabiee Irving.
Beatrice is a oh-.rmlng conversUonalist,
and Elmer thinks it is infinitely more
agreeable to pass the time with her in the
dimly-lit observatoiy than to chatter with
this one and that the illuminated room
At last they arise, and join the oomponyi
Asthey emerge into light, Elmer jghnor
it his oompanioh the looks wonderfully
{oscillating to-night.
The summer days pass quickly by, and
wme of Esther's guests take their depart
ure. Beatrice Irving and Elmer Richards
last tEat li
ire among the last tEat linger it has been
tblissfull summer for him, one he will
aever forget.
One morning Beatrioe announces her in
tention Of returning to her old home on the
morrow, and that day Elmer determine* to
know his fate.
During the evening, he requests her to,
walk with him in the garden, and she com
plies perhaps she has an intoiUon of what
a few commonplace remark* pass be
tween them then Elmer Riohards begins
his passionate declaration of love, and Bea
trice listens with clasped hands and down
cast eyes.
As he ceases speaking, he ventures to
glance into her half-averted faoe. it
a fieroe, triumphant expression,
look that one would not expeot a
to wear when listening to a lover's plead-
tamed" and faces him, and in the
moonlight he can see the yellow lights in'
her eyes flame like those irradiating from
her jewels.
"Mr. Richards," she says, calmly, °I can
never be your wife!"
He draws back, and his face grows white.
He is not oreoarod for this. He had ex
pected a aonbtfcj, wavering answer a few
month's probation, perhaps, but this cold,
Sot, refusal, never!
"Tben why have you led me oh all these
weeks?" he asks, hoarsely. "Are you heart
less, that you can so trample on a man's
heart? Are you a coquette, a jilt? Oh,
Beatrice, I cannot believe it. Tell m^ yon
love me."
"No, I do not," she replies, firmly, "Lis
ten, Mr. Richards. Five years ago. theke
lived a young girl a bright, tapp} girl
whran all that knew her Joyed.
SISTER'S VENGEANCE. "One day a etranglr mart 1» *UM%
d- weU,Blnoer Bicba*dn, jo*$»owflte
Btory it is needless forme
know of whom I ami spliunjh
"•SSL. is she now? Who ruined kvlffih
and broke her heart? lYou,
ards! Ah, you startand tun
er crossed my path I www.
"Yes. Did she never
you?" Beatrice am.
"Yes, yeSi" Elmer
called yo*-—•*
"Tresis," interring the
was her pet name for m«^||
There was a loh& sflew#?t
raises his white, haggard faoi
•. Beatrioe," he sayB.^I mof-"'
yout young sister. I didttot
a sad ending. was yo
and foolish.
Bnt she intettiipt* ittt
laugh, and turning, fiipi
He sees her amberrom
moonlight, sad her jewel.....
flames of fire then she if 1
alone with his sorrow and a
They do not meet Ogii&<
Beatrice bids her hostess
turns to the'oity.. fj
One year ltttet, Elmer
second oharity fair. Ha ti
much against his will 1
and now he saunters arm
friend, poying little attehti ..
soenes arotmdhim tUyiw^
mnse himas they otitad*
A sad pale face rises before him with
wistful blue eyes and trembling lips.
It appeared to him once before this even
ing, when he first heard Beatrice Irivng's
voice it haunt? him all the evening, and
when the fair is over, and he returns to his
handsome apartments, he sees it still, and
beside it glowB the flower-seller's brilliant
Before a staind of iiowe
memory carries him bade
two white hands fashioned^
grant bouquet, and t't^o br
into his.' He hears the ru*
and looking up sees Beat*!
before him. Bhe ls attirediajl
color, amber, and wiftrt the ,4
Their eyes meet,
hers burns brighter., ,^
oounter, and her jet"
"A bouquet, sir?''
ing smile.
mi jroji I
A rewTerimf]
The following examples of thei
mon errors in the use of word! l,
from "The Verbalist," by lliv,
Aeoord,for giver' as "the*
as a or
Aggravate, for irritate tbigj
make worse.
Allude to, tor referto or Ueoth
As, for that "not as I'know?1
that I know."
Avocation, for vooation^ a'i
is his bhsiness avo&QptiLttaift'f
oooupy him incidepti^.
Balance, for rest ot reminder..
Character, for' rep'utatiouii one mir!
a good reputation,' bat a baa charaeter,
the,two words should never b«"i
founded, .v
'.. -. Dangerous, for in danger a etotaMK
sometimes most absurdly Mid to be diu^er
ous, when it is only 'meant' that tlus poar
fellowiBhimselfin. dang«r-^eiy(WllMeiifc
Demean for debase, dUgtyQe,
To demean one's self is merely/
one's self, whether ill or WOUT
Dirt, for earth br ldam.
Donate, for give. 'Kf '-WSsfi
Execute, for1uing,1as applied^ta'ib^^
naL It is the sentenceV not the
is executed.
Healthy, for wholMone aBonlianplpift
may be healthy, bat when yaa pickju
there is no more healthiness br tnOuM
ness.to that,:dthoogh itt^y^aHQIjNt
wholesome as.aaarttoleof
Illy,for JU.. ,T
Inaugurate, for begin.
Kids, for kid feloTOr.'«
Leara, for teach.
Liable, for likely or a^
Loan, for lend:
Pants, for pantaloons, 'i
Partake, for eat
Plenty as an adjective wfc
Seal,for veryjaa "Wialniee^,
Beside, for live residence,.!
Retire, for go to bed.
Seldom, or ever, for Mtdoso^ti
seldom or never,
Some, for somei&at: "she-isi
3top, for stay "where are yos
This i» one of the-vilest of Britf
Summons (the noon), for«
Those hind of appfes, for tl
Transpire, for ocean
Vulgar, for, immodest.«ir
Without. ft»unhss.,:,
A Toledo' eomnMiK^ tMveilin
been opening np a a£w
this winter erimiiaterefl
didn^ th^nk ha had'
torn. He had bera
house for sevenl yesia,
bolt to find.
"loan make
"Yes, bnt CI
ChioMo beetetkat*"?
'Thafs party CREr^ »at
that." A
"Ourho»«wfll,Biv. roufoors^^
that Qhicafio didttt beiil» aittiMQiiiH
rapted thed^w.'lroaM^afi
KO house has heeOTanning«iir «i*i
and wouldn't tot^ aTMedt^ho
'amifeyjrd.- ,- •••.
of 12,000, *nd
upon triji
spend ail her
aires perished
Ischia. Xo be
etitutos a talkie
are reckoned
toaftauc, ot
jnam against
Hamiltun, of tt'lnok, that Wf
hold* Us borae'uui

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