< .4 .. :..~<-,<..
float for her
nodded to the boys, looked out over
7‘ THE FOUR [VOICE-IS. ‘ '3
. By sober Brown Beard, who is said to-have
seen
0: winters and summers some thirty-and-
seven.
Tripped lightly Gold Tresses, of sweet seven-
teen, .
The fairest creature on this side of Heaven.
"How pleasant the evening breezes that stir
The rustling leaves. as the woods grow diml”
Such aimless words spake his lips to her:
But his heart was muttering low to him:
"Oh.,that the summer of life were spring!
Oh. to have found her long summers ago!
Is it yet too late? Would this sweet young
thing
Give the hope of her- youth to—.’ No, ah.
nol." _ .
”Yes, pleasant it -is, when the woods grow
dim,
To hear the sound of the leaves that stirl"
Such trivial words said her lips to him:
But her heart was whispering low to her:
"Is there ever a man like the man that 1 see—
A' man like the Bayard of ages ago?
He thinks me childish and foolish: ah. inel
Could he really care for--? No, ah, nol' ’
Quoth his lips: “Good night, you now are
home. "
Prayed his heart: "God love her. whose ever
she be!" ‘
Said her lips: “Good night, you were kind
to come." '
Signed her heart: “No. he never, could never
love me."
--Truth.
FROM COO ROCK.
i
BY MAY D. HATCH.
It was variously designated the
“Turtleback,” the “Turtledove,” and
sometimes merely the "Dove.” The old
salts of the island knew it only as the
Turtleback rock, named for its decided
resemblance to the shining brown shell
of a monster tortoise protruding from
' the water; but on account of its charm-
ing security for atete~a-tetc and for
the appreciation it met with from those
who were strong enough swimmers to
enjoy its advantages the name which
had been given to it for its crustacean
likeness was usually perverted into the
simple, melodious appellation: “Coo
rock.” Indeed, so general had this
term become that even the venerable
guests of the Sliawkemo house, dis-
cussing the tide which covered it pretty
well at the full, would call it so in all
seriousness, possibly confusing it, men-
tally spelled with a K, with the various
Indian names with which the island
abounded, or believing it had refer
ence, spelled with a C, to the gentle
lapping of the waves about it. '
It was Monday morning. Most of
the men who had come to spend Sun-
day on the island had returned to
town, three hours distant by rail; and,
although the day was exquisitely clear
and beautiful and the bay rejoiced in a
thousand shifting blues in the sun-
shine, ‘the bathers were few—a half
dozen boys at the school age turning
back-sgmersaults off the float, some
children paddling around in the wet'
sand with their clothes tucked up be-
hind out of the wet like cock feathers,
and a staid matron or two near shore,
mildly bobbing up and down incased
in flannel and bathers’ hats.
As Marie Trask walked down the
morning plunge she
the water, and sat down a moment on
the edge to try its 'temperature. She
felt a little lonely, a little depressed;
she swung her feet—irreproachable in
size, in shape, and in black silk stock-
ings—lazily in the water, and medi.
tated.
She was a comely object for the wa-
ter to reflect; a trim, svelte, girlish
figure in a well-fitting black bathing
suit, her blonde skin browned by the
outdoOr life she was leading, her eyes
clear gray, a small nose which had a
tendency to be Roman, a sweet, happy
mouth that was quick to smile and
show the white teeth that had not yet
lost their baby unevenness at the
edges, and, crowning all, her sunny
blonde hair; not so much of it, but it
crinkled and rippled over her head in
such a. fashion that no one came near
her but wanted to lay a hand on it and
smooth it down a bit, just to feel how
soft and silky it was.
She looked over toward the rock; it
was quite a distance out in the little
harbor, and the tide ran rapidly there
at the turn. It was about full now,
but it would be slack water for some
time yet, and she thought she would
try it. She had been out there often,
but never alone. She was a strong
swimmer for a girl, and destitute of
- been boiling in my veins ever since I
a
And the vertes—“Dear Eyes," they
were culled:
"So miny eyes meet mine each day—
Earnest and tender. and eyes that smile,
Or (lurk without hope, and all the while
I think of you who have gone away.
"I long so to look in your eyes. dear,
Your eyes that speak to my soul until .
The cry or earth’s loneliness grows still
As 1 draw you so near,—-so near. ”
She had never known Jack could
make a rhyme till these verses had
come to her. Dear, honest Jack! how
sorry he would be if he knew all the
trouble he had brought about. No,
she could scarcely hold him responsi-
ble for her present discomfort—it was
all her own carelessness; and the next
time she indulged in the exchange of
literature she would shake the volume
to its foundations to exorcise all lurk-
ing imps that might do her ill. One is
so apt to tuck things away in a book
and then forget all about them. Yet,
after all, he might have given her a
chance to explain.
She was aroused from her reverie
by the soft rush of waters ~parted by
the even stroke of strong arms. Marie
turned her head shoreward; a. man was
rapidly swimming toward her. The
head looked very familiar, but he had
written her he was going on the eight
ten. A few more strokes and there
was no doubt of his identity; she
turned her gaze again out to sea. He
clambered up on the rock beside her.
He was a superb creature, with limbs
bronze and shining as one of Gerome’s
Arabs. He looked like some radiant
river god with a dash of water on his
chestnut hair, his eyesas blue as the
morning sea, and with that bl’aauty in
his face that comes from conscious
strength and kindliness and the glory
of youth and vigorous, overflowing life.
“Good-morning, Marie.”
She had not yet looked at him, but
she met his gaze now with a half smile.
“I thought you were going on the
eight ten."
“I started,” he answered, “crossed
the ferry, went to the station, and
came back. Why did you come out
here alone? You should have known
better, the tide is running out now,
and the swim back will be a hard pull
all the way.”
“I am quite capable of taking care
of myself,” she answered, somewhat
stiiily, “and if you are afraid of the
tide you would better go in at once.”
,lie was astonished to find her adopt-
ing an injured tone; if anyone had a
right to be hurt, he surely was the one
to enjoy the privilege of that position.
lie looked at her despairingly; the lit—
tle curls, dried by the .sun and wind,
beckoned maddingly. He forgot his
grievance for a moment.
“When Venus came ashore on the
waves,” he said, keeping his eyes on
the curls, “Zephyrus blew her there,
and before he left her he hovered about
and kissed her until her hair, which
the sea had wet, was dry and shining '
like silk; but it always kept the crinkle
the motion of the waves had given it, .
and all true daughters of Venus have
inherited that ripple of the waves ever
since. That is the story I always think
of,” he finished, seeking now her clear
gray eyes, “when I see your hair in the
sun. Marie”
She laughed’gayly. “It seems to me
some one else is dipping into poetry
besides poor Jack.”
Ilis brow darkened. “Don’t make a
joke ,of it,” he said; “the blood has
read it. 1 don’t blame Jack for loving
you, nor for writing it to you. I ought
not to have read it; but. the thought of
his having his arm about you, as it
clearly implies, and that you have
cared for him, perhaps care for him
still, has driven me almost beside my-
self. If you have any pity for me tell
me the truth, or let me go.”
“You may go,” she spoke coldly; “I
will not keep you.”
“See; we are here," he said, "under
the free sky, with the pure clear water,
all about us, close to honest nature,
and life would be so good to me if—is
there always to be an if?—if only I
knew the truth and that it is not What
.I thought—that 'you do not care for
him.”
"I am very fond indeed of Jack; and
as for the verses, I think they are
charming, and that any girl should be
happy to inspire a.man like that.”
Darrell groaned. “You are more
frivolous than I believed, and you have
fear; but always before to-day there !
had been someone to go with her.
She slipped off the float; the water
was perfectly clear and just cooler
than the air. With strong, quiet
strokes she started for the rock as a.
goal; half-way out she grew a little
tired, floated a few minutes to rest,
and then swam on. It seemed much
further than usual; but always before
she had been diverted on the way with
manly converse, or given a friendly
hand if she were tired. At last she
reached it, pulled herself eagerly up to
the highest bulging point of the . rock,
and gave a sigh of satisfaction. She
turned her back to the shore and
looked out at the hill-clasped harbor.
What a perfect day it was! She was
irritated with herself for being blue,
but how‘ could she help it when other
people made idiots of themselves?
What a stupid thing for her not to
have looked through the book, any-
way, before she had lent it to him; but
at least she had discovered in time
what a jealous, doubting friend she
had almost consented to marry. She
remembered every word of the letter
she had found waiting for her that
morning. It ran:
“DEAR MARIE: When you loaned me Dob-
son’s poems last night, I do not think you
knew you had left the inclosed verses in the
book. Perhaps I should not have read them
[Certainly he should not, Marie thought], but
I have done so They say that a woman’s in-
stinct is quick to rush at the truth; aman
has that instinct when he loves. By the sig-
nature, ‘Jack,’ I knew at once they were from
Jack Edgerton, and that he must have written
them to you when you left the Edgerton camp
three weeks ago. Only three weeks! It,un-
nerved me to think he had the right to say
such things to you such a little while ago, and
—-yes. and you have let me believe you loved
me.
"I am going to leave on the 8:10 this morn-
ing. I cannot hear to stop .to say good-by.
Yours, DARRELL. "
m‘wfl.fia'-tsf— . '
‘ for the shore.
. was greatest between l850 and 1860.
not been true to either of us.”
“I think I will swim in,” she said.
She slipped off the rock and struck out
He followed her silent-
ly, keeping his eyes upon her, for the
tide was making hard out to sea.
“Don’t try and buck against the
tide,” he called; “let it carry you
down. Just swim for the shore; you
waste your strength that way.” He
was swimming close beside her now.
“If I needed it,” she asked, “would
you be strong enough to tow me in?”
He laughed grimly. “Try me," he
answered.
He took both her hands in his, swim-
ming easily on his back; to this healthy
young giant her added weight was
nothing. They went rushing through
the water at what seemed a terrific
rate of speed to the girl whose endur-
ance had already been taxed by the
swimming, and the sense of security
and strength it gave her was a deli-
cious relief.
At last they reached the float; the
little boys were tearing up and down
the sand doing jumping “stents.” She
let go of his hands and he lifted her
easily to the float. She was quite pale;
perhaps there had been some nervous
strain in her unusual exhaustion.
“Don’t you feel well?” he asked, as
he stood beside her, taking long, deep
breaths after his exertion.
She put out a small, wet hand to
him which he gladly took in his own
damp grasp. “I should never have
gotten in alone,” she said, catching her
breath a little, “so I cannot be horrid
to you any more. That book belonged
to my Cousin Mollie, but she does not
want to announce her engagement to
Jack till the fall.”—Demorest’s Maga-
zme.
éThc increase of wealth in this
country proportioned to population
J E
The Dairy Commissioner.
The term of Comfort S. Burlingame
of Canterbury as dairy commissioner
expires with the month of April. Gov-
ernor Cofiin hasihad the matter of the
succession in mind for a long time and,
it was at first reported, would name the
new man in February. Later the ap-
pointment was to come out in March.
It will pretty surely come out this
week. Rumor has dealt with a good
many names, but none who in the esti-
mation of those competent to judge,
equal in all needed qualities Edwin
Hoyt of New Canaan. He would make
an ideal commissioner, as hegis as high
an authority on milk and butter as he is
in trees. Although a matter of much
smaller consequence to the Governor,
would it not be “good politics” for him
to recall the fact that there is a “west
end” to the state over which be pre-
sides with so much dignity and credit.
Peculiar Taste.
It is reported of a Norwalk woman
that she has a large quilt which she has
made entirely from ribbons that have
been used on funeral bequegt It is
rather a gruesome fancy.
—An advertisement in the GAZETTE is
a sure winner. Try it and be con-
vinced.
Tobacco
you’re always safe
Chew it and
l
W
V
that
. ll,
money. This is the way she rea-
sons: “A pound and one-half
package of Ivorine costs me 12c.
I With each package I get a splen-
£0
33%" :
V
:34.
who has once
. used I VORINE
WASHING POWDER. You can't
persuade her that anything
else is “just as good,” or
gives her so‘much for her
-‘ did cake of Toilet Soap—worth
at the very least 5 cents. Taking
this out makes the Ivorine cost me
only 7 cents per package. I know
it’s the purest and best washing powder, because its manu-
facturers have had the highest reputation for half a century,
and that is guarantee enough.
”
[IVORI
WASHING
POWDER
N
WWW»
A choice
cake of Olive
Oil Soap will be-
foundin each pack-
age of IVORINE
Washing Pow-
“ My mother has used lvorine Washing Powder for a long time, and
thinks it unequalled. She has tried a number of other powders recommended
as just as good, but has found them all failures.
it for everything.” --MARY E. KIERNAN, Portsmouth, R. I.
“ The cake of soap which we find in each package
of lvorine is alone worth I 5 cents to us as a Toilet
Soap.”— W. R. BABINGTON, Daytona, Fla.
THE J. B. WILLIAMS C0.,’
Makers of Williams’ Famous Shaving Soaps.
'13? List of Choice Premiums sent free upon Request.
wi
Ivorine .is prime. We use
‘ Glastonbury, Conn. (/
PREPARATIONS FOR
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Of November 3 are already well under way. A New
PRESIDENT saltwater.
Is to be Elected. and the
. ._THE . .
NEW YORK
as always. be foundin the thickest of the fight. battling vigorously for sound bflSi-
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Weekly Tribune
' ' ' , .' l ‘n r er't to the nation. . .
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Tribune. is . .
but is pro-eminently a national family newspaper.
Its campaign news and discussions will interest every American citizen.
All the news of the day, Foreign Correspondenc
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elaborate descriptions, and a variety of items 0
Family Paper.
e, Agricultural Department. Market
her, Comic Pictures, Fashion Plates with
1' household interest, make up an ideal
We furnish The Gazette and New York Weekly Tribune
both papers),
ONE. YEAR FOR ONLY s l .o
CASIi IN
, ADVANCE.
can. E3110 THE GAZETTE.
ADDRESS ALL
Write your name and address on a {postal card, send it to Geo. W. Best, Room 2
Tribune Building, New York City, and a sample copy of THE NEW YORK
WEEKLY TRIBUNE will be [mailed to you. \
u.“ A. FRANKIE.
THE HAIR CUTTER.
No. 1 Gazette Building, Norualli
.44 HOT AND COLDLBATBS
The Hawaii Fire Insurance [In
Has now Completed ts
320. SUCCESSFUL BUSINESS YEAR,
And has not. outstanding a dollar of unpai
losses or claims for losses. No sound, com.-
any insures for less
5. Beavan. Pres: G. B. ST. JOHN, Tress
was :Gno.R Cownns. Sec’v.
glaring at the officer.
j ON EVEI TERMS.
«1,2 -.
.,. ‘
“You appear to forget that this fel-
l'ow Vaughan has the reputation of
being one of the most desperate crim-
inals that ever stepped. ‘King of the
Coiners’ he is rightly named; but it is
chiefly because he 'is at the head of a
dangerous gang. And because, by a
lucky chance, you have found out that
he is living in private lodgings under
an assumed name, makes it none the
less risky for us two alone to attempt
his capture.” '
It was in a decidedly (dissatisfied
tone that Mr. Roche, the detective,
urged upon his superior officer the
hazardous nature of the business they
were upon; but Arnold Bond merely
smiled good humoredly as he re-
sponded:
“Whatever risk there may be, Roche,
I think I shall face. And as I expect
to take our man entirely by surprise,
in the very bosom of his family, I don’t
anticipate much resistance. Still, I
am prepared for it, and 1 don’t think
that he will easily give us the slip. For
the rest, you will simply carry out my
instructions.”
The two detectives knocked at the -
door of an unpretentious lodging
house in a quiet street of the east end
of London.
Almost immediately a. respectable
looking woman opened the door, and.
stepping back, said, before Bond could
speak:
“Ah. sir; I don‘t believe they expect-
ed you again to-night; but it’s well
you’ve come, for the poor mite is very
bad, they say.” .
With the ever readv wit of a shrewd
detective, quick to take advantage of
the slightest error, Bond instantly
checked the exclamation of surprise
which sprang instinctively to his lips,
and, stepping in, quietly observed:
“Indeed. I am sorry to hear that.
Our usual friend could not come him-
self, but, as his partner, I thought it
advisable to look in again. Let me
see—Mrs. Sutton, second floor, is it
not?” .. .- -- -
.Neither of the detectives scarce
ventured to breathe as they anxiously
waited to see the result of his hap-
hazard remark. ‘
“Oh, I took you for Dr. Dalton his-
self, sir! Yes, second floor. It’s rather
dark, but I dare say you can find your
way up. Lor’! [never knowed before
as how the doctor had a. partner.”
“This gentleman is merely a. friend
of mine. it you don’t mind, he will
wait for me in the passage. I don’t
suppose. I shall be many minutes,”
Bond said, inwardly chuckling with
satisfaction at the lucky mistake
which hall undoubtedly saved him and
his companion no little trouble at the
outset.
Leaving- his subordinate, who had
proviousiy receive-l careful instruc-
tions. Arnold Bond, with heart beat-
ing a litiic i’us tor than usual, cautious-
: 1y mounted the dark, narrow staircase
and tapped at a closed door facing
him.
Then, without waiting for any reply,
he instantly opened it, and as quickly
stepped into the room and shut the
door after him again.
“Surrender yourself my prisoner,
Michael Vaughn, alias Ralph Sutton,”
he said, sternly, as a tall, bearded man
Sprung hastily to his feet with a.
startled exclamation and confronted
him.
A momentary pause, then, with an
oath, the coiner snatched up achair
and raising it above his head was about
to hurl it at the detective, but as quick-
1y dropped it, as his eye rested on the
service revolver steadily leveled at
him.
“' ‘rappedl” he ejaculated, savagely,
“And in this
too. But there’s
he added, fiercely,
tom-fool fashion,
treachery here,”
“and if 1—”
“Michael, Michael,” interposed a
woman‘s voice. in pleading tones,
"you're forgetting poor little Jess.
You know the doctor said she must be
kept perfectly quiet.”
“Ah, 'Jess, poor mite,” said the
coiner. “No wonder I forgot every-
thing, when Bond himself jumped up
before me like magic! Well, I’m fairly
nabbed; but if it wasn’t for her,” he'
added, with a bitter emphasis, point-
ing to a bed in a corner of the room,
“you'd never take me in this squeamish
fashion.” '
The bed was occupied by a little girl
of about six years ofxage, who, it needed
no second glance to perceive, was very
near to death indeed. She was wide
awake, staring in mute terror from the
detective to her father and back again.
Nor did the white face of the coiner’s
wife, who stood trembling by the bed-
side, express much less alarm than the
child’s.
“Let’s clear out before you frighten‘
my young ’un to death,” said the
coiner, in a quieter voice. “Never
mind, Jess,” he went on, turning to the
child and speaking in such a tender
and soothing tone that Bond stared
with astonishment. "Perhaps soon I
shall come back, and then you’ll be
better, and we will—”
Vaughan’s voice faltered,
paused. , '
“Ah, take him away, sir, but don’t-
hurry him over what he very well
knows must be the last good-by he’ll
ever pay to his child! What hope there
may have been you’ll-take with you,
but to take it at this moment—”
The wretched mother, unable to ar-
ticulate another word, sank into a
chair, -hid her face in her hands and
gave way to a sudden outburst of grief.
“Is the gentleman going to take you
away, then, daddy?” the child said,
feebly. “Oh, don’t go! I do so want
you to-nightl” Then looking at the
detective with great, earnest eyes, lit-
tle Jess continued, ‘half indignantly,
half pathetically: ”How would your
little girl like you to be taken away if
she was ill and wanted you to stop
with her dreadfully bad?” ,0
and he
An involuntary smile gathered for-
one brief instant on the stern coun-
tenance of Bond.
“It’s true, worse luck,” whispered
the coiner, stepping near his captor.
“Poor little beggar, she is mighty bad,
and the docitr says the next few hours
mean, life or death. , .More’n~_ anything,
she’s-got to be kept, particular-quiet, ~
so let’s clear out and, leave ’em: and."
please God, I’ll see he? again yet. Yes,
myprince of traps, you can see what
makes me such a miserable coward‘
eh?” - , ., i
As if ashamed of the tremor in his
speech, the coiner turned,'and. taking
down his hat, crushed it upon his head
and approached the door with a rigid
countenance and, twitching lips. Ap-
parently, he dared not trust himself to,
take even a farewell look at his child. .
But, as Arnold Bond moved toward
the door also, his glance fell for an in-
stant upon the thin, white face of little
Jess, who ‘ had already fallen back ex-
hausted. ‘
She was gazing steadily at her fa-
ther, who, however, kept his face care-
fully averted. The pitiful, pleading
expression in the sick child’s eye struck
the detective to the heart, for it .W.%§
a look which expressed more eloquent)
1y than any words ”the bitter disap-
pointment she felt at seeing one she.
evidently dearly loved about to be .
taken from her this night of all nights.
The detective paused abruptly, hesi-
tated a. moment, and then the resolute
expression on his features softened
suddenly, and he said in a half jocular
tone, to hide the emotion he could not
entirely conceal;
“Stay, Vaughan; I cannot do it after
all. I can’t take such a cruel advan-
tage of even you at a time like this!
That’s all, and good night,” » ...:_.-s§'.—'i
“Bond! Bond!” cried the king of the
comers, springing forward as he re-
covered from his momentary stupefac-
tion: “Heaven prosper you for this!
Bad as I am I hope I’ll be able to give
you your reward for this if it’s years
to come!” .
A moment later the detective had
gone. He had sacrificed an opportu-
nity of adding enormously to his repu- .
tation. '
It was a year later before the author-
ities succeeded in discovering the “fac-
_ tory” where Vaughan and his confed-
"crates turned out the cleverly made
counterfeit coins which had so long
been passed with impunity in most
quarters of the metropolis.
But a-ter infinite trouble Bond found
out all he wanted to know and one
night he surrounded with his men the
counterfeiter’s den.
Bond had got within a few feet of
the door and was already thinking how
neatly he had managed everything,
when suddenly and without the slight-
est warning the whole floor seemed to
cave in beneath his feet, and as he
threw out his arms with a startled
cry the trap he had unconsciously
sprung turned completely over, and
threw him into a. large, well-lighted
cellar below. Before he could rise
some seven or eight men had seized
him, and, amid a storm of oaths and
threats, bound him hand and foot, dc-
spitc his strenuous struggles.
“You foolsl" cried Bond, exasperated
beyond measure, “let me tell you the
game is up! My men surround the
place, and the little joke will only
make matters a great deal worse for
you. You’d better—”
“Joke!” repeated one of the coiners,
with a fierce laugh. “Well, we’ll see.
What say you, boys? What says our
oath?”
“Death to the trap who bowls us
out!” answered a burly, villainous
looking fellow. “Surrounded we may
be, but what of that? Haven’t we
means for getting away through the
burrow at the first alarm?” _,
“Aye, but not if we stand chucking
precious minutes away in empty talk,”
interrupted another of the gang.
“Quick. pals! Here is an end to our
snug little business, and so let’s make
’ an end of this interfering sneak before
we cut. The traps outside may smell
a. rat if he doesn’t soon give ’em the
cue.”
Without another word one of the
coiners stepped up to the prostrate
officer and, with asavage exclamation,
slipped the noose of a rope over Bond’s
head and drew it uncomfortably tight
round his neck. Another of the des-
perate crew at once threw the other
end of the rope over one of the beams
which supported the flooring above.
The detective now recognized to the
full extent the really serious nature of
his position; and, half dazed by the
terrible calamity which had so sudden-
ly befallen him, was giving up all hope
of escape, when for the first time the
leader of the gang—Michael Vaughan
—hi_mself spoke. ,
“Leave him to me, lads, and get you
along while you may. There’s not a
jiffy to lose. Hark! hear the traps!
They’re breaking in already.”
“We don’t go until we’ve choked the
life out of the rat who’s put ’em on
our trail. Run him up sharp and have
him a pleasant surprise to his friends,”
replied one of the ruffians.
With these words the unfortunate
officer was jerked off his feet, but at
the same moment Vaughan snatched
up a formidable knife andgat a single
stroke severed the rope above his head.
“I’m with you, Mr. Bond,” ejacu—
lated Vaughan, with grim determina-
tion stamped upon his white face.
“Aha! see how my mutinous crew sink
back from your bulldog! And, by all
that’s lucky for us both, here comes
your men. Another minute’s delay
and I reckon it would have gone a. bit
hard for us both.”
Almost before he had finished Speak-
ing the long cellarlike room became
for a. short space a scene of desperate
struggling, the walls echoing a chorus
of savage cries and shouts.
Of all the members of the gang their
leader alone offered no resistance, but
lapsed into moody silence.
Only when the opportunity offered
did he whisper in the detective’s car:
“You see, I haven’t forgotten what I ‘
once promised, sir, although you have
only a smashcr’s word for it. Perhaps
you didn’t know it, but I reckon you
had the life 'of my little Jess in your
hands that night a year ago, and may-
be you’ll agree now that I’ve paid a
fair price for it. As for me—but there,
we’re on even terms once more.”——Lon-
don Tid Bit-:3.
—Georgia has 3,621 pensioners within
her bounds.
Norwalk Chronicler