THAT’S WHEN. When does advertising pay? When the darkness follows day, When the winter precedes spring. l... When the song birds learn to sing. - When the deaf no longer hear, W’hen the Anarchist loves beer. When the chickens feathers wear. When the sailor learns to swear. When the shiftless go in debt, , When the running streams are wet. When the tramp for leisure yearns. When the ice no longer burns, When the business man is wise— That‘s the time to advertise. -——Kansas City Journal. FROM THE RUBAIYAT“ They had been talking about Omar . Khayyam’s Ruba-iyat Sonata, and Wa terford, who had become the happy pro- prietor of this delightful volume on: damp morning in Calais, while waiting for the stout little steamship which was to convey him,vafter certain tempestu- ous hours, to moist, green England, glanced at the charming profile of the young lady beside him, with a faint hope that her pretty silence might be terminated by something clever and suggestive. “I fear you will find me rather a dull person,” he said at last. “In England, you know, when they present people they always make it a biographical oc- casion. They say. ‘This is Mr. Jones. Mr. Jones has just been killing some- thing.’ I haven’t been killing anything, but I have read the Rubaiyat. Do you know it at all?" “Oh, yes, I know it very well,” re- turned she, breaking ofi a bit of roll and looking at him, smilingly, over her shoulder. “Indeed, I was thinking that you are not like the man there—yon can’t say, ‘A jug of wine, a loaf of bread, and thou beside me, singing in the wilderness. Oh, wilderness were paradise enow.’ ” “Ah! but it would cease to be a wil- derness then,” said Waterford quickly. ‘ ‘You’d make it popular. ” “Oh, yes,” said she. “I’d have them all, positively everybody. I’m very fond - of company.” He politely replied that under such circumstances her opportunities for soli- tude must be rare. And as he did so he said to himself that pictorially, at least, she was a singularly happy speci- men of the American type. Her deli- cate color, her bright freshness, her even features, her virginal young eyes. her expression of unconscious serenity that was at once so confident and so in- nocent, so alert and so pure, made a por- trait very lovely to look upon. ,He felt a. quick, grateful wish to give her pleasure, to bestow his best, and he believed, when the conversation was in- terrupted by what he called that brutal Saxon interval of drink and smoke, that it terminated with regret. He hoped they might renew it. but when the men rejoined the ladies she was standing in the doorway, with her white cloak about her shoulders. “Goodby,” he said. “Must you go so soon? There are ever so many things I want to talk with you about. Won’t you say to your mother, please, that I hope to present myself shortly?” “Ah, do come!" said she. “Mamma would be so glad to see you again. Come Sunday afternoon. We always see people Sunday afternoon.” ‘ On the succeeding Sunday,Waterford . found opportunity to express his happi- ness in again meeting Mrs. Thorpe, and after that pleasant occasion it was soon taken for granted that he would make one of the group of young men who ar- ranged themselves in what he thought highly irregular attitudes on the draw- ing-room chairs. ' . It happened one afternoon, as Water- ford was saying goodby, he held her hand, instead of releasing it, and asked her very simply and tenderly to let him keep it always. She looked away from him for an instant, as though she was looking beyond him and into her future, and then she raised her eyes, beautiful with what he thought the sweetest, love- liestfight he had ever seen shine froma pure soul. The marriage came off in May, and after apoetic journey through lands supposed to be in harmony with recent wedded bliss, they returned to a delightful old house in Eleventh street and an appreciative circle of friends. They were both ridiculously happy, and both in secret scored a common terror that such felicity, in a world of suffer- ing and transition, must be succeeded by some vaguely threatening horror. They had not yet grasped the richest fulfilment of companionship that comes through sorrow born in love. Mr. Waterford’s money was invested in one of those large commercial enter- prises which had been a family concern for years, and which, some time previ- ous to his marriage, had been merged into a “trust.” His uncle was presi- dent, and the shares paid enormous divi- dends. During the panic, of . course, the price went tumbling down, along with the rest of the “industrials,” but, as he was not pressed for funds, it did not worry him. , One morning, however, he glanced over the paper, carelessly enough, and then rushed downtown with a scared, white face. The American Button Trust had announced its insolvency and applied for a receiver. The stock was unlisted and absolutely unmarketable. Waterford was mined! Everything had to go—even her jewels. They hired a little flat somewhere up- town, and the beautiful house was to let and most of the furniture sold. Edith had kept up bravely, so bravely and cheerily. “Don’t you remember the Rubaiyat, dear?” she said, patting his knee. ‘A jug of wine, a loaf of bread and thou beside me singing in the wilderness.’ That was the first speech I ever made, wasn’t it? I’m sure [fiv- , erty can’t be so terrible while we have each other. There are a hundred worse - troubles might have come to us.” But when they went down the steps for the last time, and she looked back at the curtained drawing-room window, the window in which fits medic stand and watch for him in the happy win e ’s twi- light, and saw the auctioneer’s ra 1. l. “Goodby, old home,” she cried, turning her h‘erhead away, “goodby!” Water- ford took her hand and pressed it fur- tively, but she didn’t return that kind gesture, and for the first time his heart sank within him and he wished he might die. - Once, he was unable to meet his rent when due, and the landlord came and dunned .her for it—he wondered how she bore it so. Cut off from friends, home, society, every elegance to which she had been accustomed, condemned to a life of petty hardships and miser- able sacrifices, what was his poor affec- tion in the balance? She 'must regret, how could any woman help it? Ah, fatal lines! He had, indeed. brought her into “the wilderness.” She cher- ished him, and he looked into her kind eyes and thought, “How unselfish she is." She caressed him, and he said to himself, “How she ities me.” Christmas eve ha come, and Water- ford was trudging home through the lights and falling snow, thinking with a sardonic humor of last year, and the presents he had bought her. They had been giving a dinner, and just as she was going down he had slipped behind her and had clasped a circlet of dia- monds around her neck. He remem- bered with a thrill how she had turned and smiled at him over her shoulder, standing there before her glass, bril- liant, flashing, beautiful. He had no present for her this Christmas (they had agreed they were too poor to buy each other gifts), but as he let himself in, and she came quickly, happily to meet him, and put her white young arms about his neck, and looked up into his eyes with such a smile as only love can paint, he bent over her and fastened a great rose in her hair. “Merry Christ mas,” he said, in rather a choky voice, and she felt a tear on her forehead. “And now you must come into the library,” she said. And putting her arm about his waist, she pushed aside the curtain, and there, draping the chimney-piece, was one of those pale silk scarfs, along the length of which was wrought a quaint, curiously em- broidered pattern. "Ah,” he said, a little reproachfully, “you promised not to buy me any- thingl”. _ . “I didn’t buy it. I made it for you," she said. “Do you like it?” she added, giving him a queer look. “You are to understand that it is immensely clever, and that it is all out of my own head.” Many a night he sat smoking before thatsurface of faded silk, and when the old doubts of her would now and again chill his heart, the thought of the dear hands that had embroidered it somehow soothed and quieted him, so that once, when it was removed, he asked for it and had it put back again. But the Waterfords’ poverty was dis- sipated almost as unexpectedly as it had come upon them. The A. B. T. had been reorganized, and the assessment paid in had replaced the property on a paying basis. Our friend’s uncle had managed quietly to scrape together suf- ficient funds to pay both his nephew’s subscription and his owu, and to Water- ford’s astonishment, he received one morning, not only a notification of this, but a check for the current divi- dend. They went abroad that summer, and in the autumn were enabled to take back the old house in Eleventh street, where they lived in comfort and dc ~ gance. Only Waterford, despite Edith's smiling protest, insisted that the now faded scarf should decorate the new li- brary. - “It’s the only thing I can’t do with- out.” he said. He thought as she busied herself ar- ranging it, with her back to him, that the small speech had pleased her more than any compliment he had ever paid her, and he wondered at the inscutable ness of woman, “Oh, by the way,” he said one morn- ing at breakfast, “I met an old chap at the club last night, a Persian Professor. I remembered you used to be fond of Oriental things, so I asked him to dine this evening. I hope he will interest you.” The Professor proved sufficiently en- tertaining, and after dinner his host took him upstairs for a brandy and soda and a cigar. The old man wander- ed around ‘the room, examining cabi- nets, and displaying a mild pleasure in some Eastern porcelain. Suddenly his eye happened to catch the drapery, and, bending forward, he began to scrutinize it with the most , eager curiosity. “That’s very remarkable,” he said, “very remarkable! May I ask where you got that?” “That?” said Waterford, rather sur- prised. “Why, I didn’t get it at all, in the usual sense—my wife made it for me. I am very fond.of it for its associ- ations. You have seen something like it, perhaps?" “Like it,” returned the Professor, beaming at him through his glasses. “My dear sir, there is nothing like it in America. Why, that is a pure Persian design, with an Arabian text. That is the celebrated quotation from the Rub- aiyat—‘A jug of wine, a loaf of bread, and thou beside me, singing in the wild- erness, oh, wilderness were paradise enow.’ ” Waterford’s hands dropped to his side—through dim eyes he gazed once more at the old drapery—his face wore a strange look of happy, exultant peni- tence. “Excuse me a moment,” he said pres- ently, “I want to speak to my wife.”— Vanity. From Napoleon’s flat. Among the presents recently received by the Empress of Germany which she prizes highly is a relic given her by the Austro-Hungarian Ambassador in Ber- lin. It is a diamond buckle, which was one of the principal ornaments of the gala hat of Napoleon I, and was found in the imperial baggage captured by a Prussian regiment lat the battle of Waterloo. There is also a tradition that it was worn by Napoleon at his coronation in Notre Dame, on Decem~ lot 21, 1804. ‘ --' GRANT AND one”: BEN. the President Remembered the Old Man ‘7 ho was Kind to Him, - . D. R. Garrison told'a story to General ' Schofield, at the Dent House, which il- lustrates to a certain extent the kind.- heartedness of General Grant. Grant was a great lover of horses, and, while he was President, he came on a visit to St. Louis, and Mr. Garrison, at that time'President of the old Pacific road, took him out to his farm. Theystarted ofi in a buggy for a drive, and, after going some distance, met an old man going along on a horse. The man was in his shirt sleeves and were a straw hat, but Grant recognized him, and, stopping the buggy, he got out and, walking up to the old man, put out his hand and said: “Hello, Uncle Ben! How are you and the old woman get- ting along?” The old man was Uncle Ben Sapping- ton. He welcomed the President and said he was getting along very well. He remarked that they were happy as long as they had enough to eat and a pipe and a little tobacco. “Uncle Ben, wouldn’t you like to be postmaster of Meramee township?” asked the President. Uncle Ben said he would not object, and Grant shook him by the hand and said: “God bless you and your wife, ‘Jncle Ben. I think of you often.” When Grant got back in the buggy the tears were streaming from his eyes, and he said to Mr. Garrison: “Poor old Uncle Ben! He has a big heart. I re- member,” he said, “when I and my wife, living in that house over there, did not have any more to eat than need- ed, and old Uncle Ben would come around to' the house at night and leave a basket of provisions on our doorstep. He was afraid to come and give them to us, thinking that he would possibly hurt our feelings. God bless his mem- ory!” Uncle Ben was made postmaster, and after living to a ripe old age he joined the great majority and was followed by Grant a few years ago. [A NOVEL EXPERIENCE. Wiley was Arrested with $7,000 on Kim. James C. Wiley, formerly aranch- man of Greeley, was arrested by the police a short time ago and locked up on a charge of vagrancy, but when City Jailer Hobaft searched him he found money in every pocket. the total footing up the very unvagrant like sum of $7,761.50. Immedia" :ly the charge of “vagrancy” was smutched off the police record and “concealed weapons" substituted, for Wiley conveniently had a big revolver in his pocket. ’ Oflicers had noticed Wiley for several hours lounging on Larimer street, and his actions had looked suspicious. He was dressed very shabbily and he seem- ed to spe-td his time following people and star .g at 'them. He followed Officer lizidricks two blocks, looking at his b: es buttons. Oflicer Kovsky’s uniform caught Wiley’s eye yesterday morning, and when he followed Kovsky the oficer determined to arrest him. Wiley went to the station meekly enough, but when an effort was made to search him he re- sisted and help had to be called. He had money in nearly every pock- et. There were certificates of deposits on Denver banks aggregating $7,000 and gold and currency to make the to- ml $7,761.50. In answer to the sur- prised questions cf the officers Wiley said he used to be a ranchman at Greeley, where he and his brothers had made a fortune out of their farm and had retired from business. He said he had been stopping at the Western Ho- tel, taking things easy. When the money had been restored to him he wastaken to the Police Court and fined $25 for carrying concealed weapons. This he paid without a murmur and was allowed to go.—-Den- ver Republican. Mr. PERSIFLAGE IN BOSTON. Banter in the American A t hens. Tea Cup The airy persifiage that may be heard- “over the tea cups” in cultured Boston may be imagined from the following from the pen of a clever observer, who thus describes a scene from a day at home: ,"The fair young hostess has dispensed her fragrant cups to all, and is leaning back in a quaint, antique chair, which forms a charming setting for the old time dress which modern girls are wearing, the Marie Antoinette fichus and brocades and high combs. One of the newcomers, leaning an elbow on the mantel piece, says abruptly: “ ‘Do you know, I’ve wanted that fine old chair of yours ever since I first saw it.’ “The chair's occupant drops her lash- es overaher eyes and says, demurely: “ ‘The furniture and I go together.’ “ ‘Ah! In that case, I’ll call to-mor- row with a carriage and an express wagon.’ " ‘Oh, but I didn’t say we went tc the first bidder l’ laughs back the little aristocrat, who knows equally well the value of her heirlooms and herself, and does not appraise them at any low es- timate.” A Joke Revised. She—Did she throw out any induce- ment for you to call again? He—Oh, yes; she said her father had refused to pay the gas bill, and the com- pany was going to take out the meter. —Yonkers Statesman. The Czar-ins a Swimmer. Swimming is an exercise in which the young Czarina of Russia delights. She has caused to be built at the win- ter palace a swimming bath of white marble, 1,400 feet square and six feet deep. -- Equivocal. Mother—Jessie, did I hear Arthur proposing to you last night? Jessie—I don’t think you did, mozher: Arthur talks awfully low.—-Up 1': Data. Clean Dairies. There is hardly a single reform now needed in farming greater than that of securing extreme cleanliness about our milking. It is a great pity that we have lost the English and Dutch custom of having the cows handled entirely by the women, and so the dairy product be in their hands from the beginning. The original meaning of the word daughter was milker. Having occasion lately to buy a few quarts of milk per day for a few weeks, I found most of it tainted from the barnyard. In one case it was so foul that it could not be used. Even the cats refused to drink it. I was led to. investigate, and found one herd in a barnyard where the urine was a foot deep, and the cows were a horrible sight. In another yard the hired man spit on his hands frequently while milking. Remonstrating, I was told, “Oh, lots of ’em do that.” The sum of my investigation was a resolu tion to buy as little milk as possill:. But in our own yards it needs the most constant watching and determined su pervision to prevent the average hired man from habits which foul the milk. There is no reason why a horse should be groomed and curried that does not equally apply to a cow. It conduces to her he..2th and to the flow of milk. It isvastly more important for our own health. The milk from the large dairy that I found too bad for men or cats goes into a creamery every day to be worked up into butter. That this i- wholesome for consumers no one need assert. It is a steady source of disease. It is an outrage on the community. The average American barnyard is far from what it should be. It has not improved largely on what it was when our people camped in the woods as pio neers.—J. Morgan. Care of the Team in Summer. Sore shoulders. necks and backs are largely the result of carelessness and ignorance. When the harness or saddle presses heavily upon muscles not accus- tomed to such pressure, the walls of the blood vessels are compressed until the normal flow of blood is stopped, and the delicate vessel Walls are bruised along with the muscular fibres. When the pressure is removed, the blood rushes into those weakened vessels with such pressure that the blood serum is forced through them and we have the soft fluctuating swellings under the skin. If these accumulations are not removed, either by resorption or artifi- . cially, there results a callous enlarge ment that is ever afterward a point for inquiry. Such may be avoided. When- "’ever a team at heavy work, or a young horse not accustomed to work is stopped to rest, and that should be frequently instead of long, raise the harness and collar and manipulate the flesh a little with the hand to restore the blood cir- culation. On removing the harness bathe the parts under pressure with cool water. To Feed the Thanksgiving Bird. After young turkeys are twenty-four hours out of‘ the shell, they will be ready for “a breakfast. Good success has usually followed making the first few meals consist of curds and stale bread soaked in milk or water, and like the curds, squeezed as dry as possible, and given in a crumbly state. If they are not at hand it will not be necessary to give any hard-boiled eggs, although they are a good thing to start the poults’ bill of fare. Even when the hard-boiled eggs are used they should not displace the bread, but go with it. If bread is to become one of the prInci- pal articles of food it should be secured ~ in quantities sufficient to allow it to harden before being used. When near a bakery or dealer in bread or near .a hotel. stale bread can easily be obtained at small cost. Tins, with milk, will make good diet for the poults, and at the same time not be very expensive. An onion or two, chopped fine and mixed with the food, will add to its healthfulness. A Second Fodder Crop. Barley and peas is another fodder crop that has been tried on a small scale for the past two years. The area or which oats and peas has been fed of during July was plowed early in A gust and seeded to barley and peas the rate of 1 1-2 to 2 bushels of each 1. acre. This crop furnishes good fee, during October. Peas and barley are not injured by frost, and if the fall months are cool and moist, a large amount of valuable forage may be pro. duced. The peas should be covered three to five inches deep, while the bar- ley should be harrowed in. The mix ture gives a more highly nitrogenous fodder than barley alone. When deeply covered, the peas seem to grow nearly as well in the spring. As there are few forage plants that are not injured by frosts, this mixture seems worthy of the faithful consideration of dairymen. The lighter seeding, if made early in July, will make a growth sufficient for- it to be cut for hay before cold weather. ——Prof. C. S. Phelps, Connecticut Expt. Station. Corrected. Papa (just arriving from downtown ) —Well, where’s Bessie? Why isn‘t she running to meet me, as usual? Mamma—Bessie has been naughty and disobedient. I‘have had to deprive her of her playthings, and she has been weeping bitter tears in her own room for the last half hour. . Voice of Bessie (from adjoining room) ——Tears ain’t bitter! They’re ‘ salt!— Chicago Tribune. . Paradoxical. “How is the bicycle trade?” “Booming; and yet, as paradoxical as it seems, there is considerable falling off in the business.”-—Washington Evening Times. , g . . _ ’ , W E EK L Y -, NiOR'W ALL; - GA 2‘13 ’1' TE, * x CAP’T. REARDON’S MEMORIES. Other Notables. Capt. J. E. Reardon, who has been on the Ohio for sixty years, 5 ys that he met Lincoln, Clay and many other prominent men before the war, some of them frequently. “In the hard cider campaign of 1840. Lincoln came down to our country_on horseback,” said the Captain. “He was candidate for Elector on the Whig tick» st, and traveled with a man named Lambert. I heard him speak at Shaw neetown, New Haven and Carmi. The meetings were held in «log cabins, and the hard cider and the coons Were al- ways there. Douglass I saw several times in the 50’s. lay was a frequent visitor at Shawneetown. and Zach Tay- lor I met here also and at Louisville. Clay I first met in Louisiana. He had a cotton plantation down there and 00- casionally visited it. On one of these trips the boat he was on, the Andrew Jackson, stopped at Shawneetown, and the whole town went aboard to greet the popular states- myn. Sam Marshall made a speech in behalf of the Shawneetowners and Clay responded in a manner which made him still more popular in that part of the country. “When the time for separating came he shook hands with a good many and kissed some of the girls. Nearly all the old ladies of that town to-day will tell you that Henry Clay kissed them at that reception over a half a century ago. “John A. Logan married in Shawnee- town. “John did most of his courting at my house,” said Reardon. “Miss Cunning- ham lived. near us, and was generally there when Logan came down from Benton, where he was reading law, to see her. Bob Ingersoll spent four years about town, reading law. In those days Bob had the most remarkable memory I ever knew. After reading an article in a newspaper he could repeat it al— most word for word.” The Captain is over 75 years old, and looks good for ten years more of active steamboating. He was born at Mount Vernon. 111, about eighty miles from St. Louis. He has owned several boats since the war and made a good many trips to St. Louis, as well as to points on the Ohio and Lower Mississippi. The boat he is now running was named in honor of a daughter of Gen. Buford Wilson of Springfield.§0ne of his sons is General Superintendent of the Chicago, Peoria & St. Louis Railroad—St. Louis Globe- Democrat. Her Thoughts. Their first quarrel. » The young wife sat in the gathering twilight, gazing absently out of the window, thinking of the event, which seemed so long ago—in reality that very morning—which had come to mar the happiness of their hitherto un- clouded married life. It had all come up so swiftly and was over so suddenly that even now she could scarcely recall h—CTW-it had first begun. Oh, yes, she remembered, and such a trivial matter. too, that she was almost ashamed now to acknowledge it to herself. To think that a cup of coffee should have com: between them, and a cup of bad coffee at that! Yes, she confessed to herself that it was bad, and that he had aright to complain. When he spoke of it in his gentle way she had felt the ‘hot blood mount to her cheeks, and almost before she knew it she had told him that he would better go to his club, where he would doubtless be better served. This had aroused him, and his reply was to the effect that she was no doubt correct in what she said, and that it would has pretty poor club, etc. Even now she could hear the slam of the door as he went out and recall the bitter rebellious feelings that had come over her, and yet how long ago it seemed. Since then, during the long, anxious day, she had had time to reflect. All this angry feeling had gone now, and in place of it she was conscious of a lgreat sadness, a deep remorse. For in the moments of calmness that had come to her she felt that he was right. If she had only been willing at the time to ac- knowledge that he was right, and to promise better in the future. How many times, she reflected, had be ac- knowledged himself wrong! But her absurd pride had stood in the way. Never mind, she said to herself; she would make it up to him. Dear boy! No wonder that he had become angry with her! Would he forgive her now? She wondered. Why did he not come? Oh, the passionate longing for him that she had in heart! She wished she might go up behind him softly and put her arms around his neck and ask his pardon. And yet, in the midst of her reverie, when he came gently in and stood si- lently in the centre of the room, she could not, somehow, bring herself to speak first. She continued to gaze out of the window, while he said, as he came up behind her, in just the way that she would come up behind him: “Darling, will you forgive me?” Then she turned her head slowly around, and looking at him with a su- perior smile, replied: “This time, you foolish boy, but you must promise never to act so again.”— Harper’s Bazar. To Raise Buffaloes. A bufialo breeding park has been es tablished experimentally at Adrian, Mich., by a big wire fence- making con- cern. Five bufialoes_were bought from the Commissioners of Lincoln Park, Chicago, a few days ago to stock the park. Information. Travel (to native)—-Can you tell me how far I am from Creamtowni Native-About 24,900 miles. Traveler—Impossible. Native—I mean if you keep on the way you are going. If you turnaround names, . ..,._;.. ‘22:: no Remembered Lincoln, Clay and Man) ' and go back it’s only about a allav run SALEBY gs?" s. '3. _WILSON. B UILDEB, 92 IVALL STREET. One :S-room “cottage, Roton Point ; 1 lot Myrtle avenve and 1 lot Howard avenue, 37x300 feet, East Norwalk " 1 lot, 129x180 feet, Broad River; 1 Cabin Steam Launch, 30x7 feel; 1 two-seated Sleigh; 1 two-seated Business Wagon; ? good Stoves; House and Lot on easy erms. Wm. Lockwood, Real Estate. Insurance and Investment Securities. _MONEY 1‘0 LOAN.- Insurance Placed in First-Class Companies. Ofice—Corner Main & Wall Sts.. Norwa-l mm]: L. QUIGUEJlorlst and Nursery man .Uuion Avenue. north of Union Cemtery Norwalk. Conn. Dealer in Green House at House and Bedding and Vege. .able Plants Iran and Ornamental Trees Shubbery, Vines. Cut Flowers. always on hand. and all sorts of designs in flowers ar- ranged to order. _ ”Grading and refilling cemetery lots. at- tended to. HENRY TILLY. CARRIAGE MAKEE. «SOUTH NOR WALK, OON ’. -—-Manufactnrerof-—- . Family Carriages. Victorlasluuin ll ALL KINDS OF REPAIRING. TNA INSRUANCE 00., of Hartford Incorporated 1812. Charter Perpetu a Capital and Assets, 38.902.272.64. Insures against loss and damage by man on terms adapted to the hazard and consistent With the laws of comvpensation CO LES & MERRILL. Sole agents for Norwalk and vicinity: J. Belden Hurlbutt, Album and Counselor at Law; _ Room 4, up stairs, GAZETTE BUILDING. ADAMS EXPRESS COMPANY Low It ill-"s. Prompt Delivery hrscnh Office, Norwallr.'at Morris Benedic t Main Office. depot. South Nor-walk. l. HUNT. Agent. cAVlATI. TRADI MARIO: DEMON PATENTS: ' OOPVIIOH'I'O. etc. For information and free Handbook write to MUNN a CO. 861 Bnomwnr, NEW YORK. Oldest bureau for securing patents in America. Every atent taken out by us is brought before the pu lie by a notice given free of charge in the Stimuli: gamma La est circulation of any scientific paper in the word. S lendidl illustrated. No intelli ent man shou d be thout 1t. Weekly 83 a gar; 31.50 six months. Address. MUN}: a' 00., susnnas, 361 Broadway, New York City. The Celebrated ulzsLTON (moss; cases; GOALS, FDR RANGE AND FURNACE: These Goals are Free From Dir! and Slate. Willbe Delivered byllareinl Drivers. Send Order for Sample Load and Satisfy Your «self that our claim is correct. ' ” "Raymond Bros. sour: manna. NEW YOBKAII)EW HAVEN & HARTFORD RAILW.) —an YonxDrvzsxox ' June 14, 1896. . Trainsleave South Norwalk as-Jozlom: For. Him Youn—Accommoddtion trains at . 9.36 a.m.. 1.11. 2.54. 4.07. 5.40. 6.50. 8.11. 10.20 p. m. Express trams at 4.55.5.45. 6.15 (local) 6.55. (local). 7.05. (local). 7.55. (local). 8.21. 9.03 (local) 9.58.10-40. 11.37. (local) 1... m. 12.52 225.420.535.620 7.35 pm. I'jor Washington via Harlem River 12.53 a.m.(da11y.) Saxons—Accommodation 9 15 a. m.. use. (local).7.23.(local)9.28 p.m Express 4.5 5.45 a. m. . . _. FOR NEW HAVEN AND run EAs'r.—Accommo.. , . dation trains at 6.32. 7.38. 8.46 and 11 44 a. m.. 1.37, 2.42. (to B'p’t). 4.20. 5.2!. 6.27. 7.28 (to B’p’t). .- B.41.9.41 and 11.15 p'. 111. Express trains at 12.40, 1.11. 9.11 10.12. 11.08 a. m. 12.05. 3.05. 5.04 (Nauga-J tuck Express) 7.10 p. m Susmrs.—Accommodation7.38. 9.12 3.1». and ‘ .15 p.m. Express 12.40 and 1.11 a. m. _G. '1‘. HEMPSTEAD. Gen. Pass. Agent.
Norwalk Chronicler