‘ '. I I . W "E in KLY - N .u «15-43;: gun—33%., ~ . AI K v w ' -*~’~'v.>e,~3arf . . ... , G M 00 N Ll G HT. L—COL’NTRY. Over umbrageous fields and hills, Where birds were joy) 1 throughout the day. And warblsd their m? o 1.015 trills In their own swee, melodious way, The moon, the golden summer moon, Turnsdurkness to an argent noon. .A ghostly silencefills the earth, A hush of golden strain and song; There is no snarl,- sounl of mirth 1‘ Through all’ the tendo‘ttul night long. And-sottwinds quiver through the trees. Salt with theodo‘rs 01 the seas. _ ‘ , " _'II. —CI'1‘Y. . ‘ Down shrouded lines or populous streets And boisterous gas-lit avenues, , ‘Where all life’s bitters- and its sweets, ._ Where all th-t life desires or rues, i All that love holds and all it mars, Wakens or sleeps beneath the stars— , The moon shines down like home far ghost, Pitiful in its tender mien, . Pitiflfl to the weary host _ -3H That slumber silently unseen, ‘--" -- . ‘ A best of eager souls that bear Glad hope and tenebrous despair. ~George Edgar Montgomery, 1n Harper's Weekly. , ACQUITTED BY‘ACCIDENT. gm: - . W BY HENRY FIELDIN G. f The case to be tried was one of arson ——a capital offense at the period to which this story relates—and the pris- oner .at the bar was one of the best- known young men of the town in which he resided, by name Walter Hood. He had a widowed mother dependent upon him for support, to' whom he was devoted, and in most respects his con- duct was irreproachable. The trial commenced and we twelve men took our seats in the jury box. Of the eleven men with me there was only one whom I did not like to see there. That was Harvy Dudley, a dark- faced, sinister looking fellow, and to me in many ways objectionable. I knew that young Hood had an incipi- ent failing. He was becoming addicted to drinking, and had been known, while so excited, to visit questionable resorts. It was for the burning of one of these houses that he had been apprehended. I knew further that it ”was this Harvy Dudley who had been his most con- stant companion; who had done more than anyone else to lead him astray, and who had accompanied him to these undesirable haunts. I could only ac- count for his being on the jury on the hypothesis that Walter yet regarded him as his friend, but, nevertheless, I determined to watch him. ' The trial commenced and as the evi- dence for the prosecution proceeded I was fairly startled. One witness after .another gave testimony, some of them very reluctantly, but all" pointing to the prisoner as the guilty party. Some credible 'witnesses sw‘ore that they had heard him swear he would burn the house down; others heard him say re- peatedly that he wished it were burned down. Then came others who had seen him lurking about the premises on the night of the fire. On the score of mo- tive it was shown, on his own admis- sion, that he had been ill-treated in the house and that he had said he would have revenge; furthermore, it was proved that he had been heard to say that the salvation of his soul depended upon the destruction of the house. .Next came testimony stronger still. The fire had originated in a. back basement room, where shavings and other stuff for kindling were kept. En- trance had been gained by means of a back window, which had been partly pried open with a stout knife, and on the floor had been found the blade of a knife which had been broken off in the «efforts to raise the sash. That blade was recognized as belonging to a knife the prisoner had owned. A maker of cutlery had made that knife for him and positively identified it. And this was not all. The floor of the basement was damp, and some of the outer shavings to which the light had been applied had not burned, and just at the edge, where the fire commenced, lay a piece of paper, rolled up and half burned. From the“ position in which it lay and its appear- ance it was evident that this piece of paper had been’ignited by match and then applied to the shavings. The shav- ings had blazed up at once, but the piece of paper lying on the damp floor had not wholly burned up. This piece of paper was found to be a part of a let-- ter addressed to the prisoner and re- ceived by ‘him only a week before. The case looked very dark. Many witnesses were willing to testify to the prisoner’s good qualities, but no one could swear that he wasanot dissipated and degraded. That house had been to him indeed an infernal region. Final- ‘ ly the prisoner was allowed to speak for himself. - He said that he had threatened to burn the house down; that he had said all that he-had been sworn to and that he was around the house on the night of the fire--indeed he was not ten rods off when the flames burst forth and he was one of the first 'to give the alarm. He had uttered one cry of “fire ” when he noticed where the fire was and the thought came to him that if he was found he might be sus- pected of having started it, so he ran away. ' He also said that three nights before the fire he had been in the house and robbed of everything his pockets contained, including forty dollars in money and some valuable papers. He had gone there on the night of the fire in the hope of getting something back, ,but seeing some one enter whom he did not Wish to encounter he hung about awaiting that person’s departure. That. was an hour before .the fire broke out, but of setting the place on fire he was innocent; he knew nothing of it, and clasping his hands, with his tearless eyes raised to Heaven, hecalled on God to witness that he was innocent. _ ‘ ‘ I knew Walter; I knew him so well that from that moment I believed him innocent. I knew his véry soul, and I knew there was no falsehood in the story he told. ' “My boy .is innocent! nocentl” _, H , I" heard the cry and saw his poor old mother, almost broken-hearted, sink back fainting into the arms of her com- My boy is in- panion. All this, however, had little effect on the spectators. The prisoner’s course of dissipation; his many threats against the house, and the very fact that he had been robbed there were heavy against him. The attorneys deli'vered’ their pleas and the judge gave his charge. He told us, of course. that if there was a lingering doubt in our minds we must give the prisoner the benefit of it; but I could plainly see that there was not the least shadow of doubt in his mind. The jury were conducted to our room and locked up. A silence of some minutes occurred, which Harvy was the first to break. “ “Well,” said he", “I s’pose there ain‘t- any need of our being here a great while. Of course, we all know the prisoner must have set fire to the place.” There was something in his manner as he said this which excited my curi. osity. 1 will not say it was suspicion then, but my curiosity. He spoke with a forced effort at calmness, and the more I looked at him the more I became nervous and uneasy. I wondered why he should be so anxious to get rid of the case and have Walter convicted. I knew he had also frequented the house and that he had also done muchtowards tempting Walter into dissipation, and I knew, from what Walter had told me, that he was in that house when the rob- bery had taken place. Presently the foreman suggested that we should each take a piece of paper and write down our opinion and then compare notes. I went to my over- coat, which was hanging on a rack with the rest, and took out a sheet of paper. I had got half way back to the tall-e when I found that I had got half a let- ter from another man’s coat. I was about to turn back when the name of the writer caught my eye. ’t was signed Samuel Lasalle, and immediate- ly above the signature I read these words: “And now, dear Walter, if not for your own yet for your dear mother‘s sake, let me hope you will do better.” I started as if I had been shot. I had in my hands the other half of the shcet which had been used in the burned house. I went back to the rack and found I had taken the paper from H are vy Dudley’s coat. I looked to see if I had been observed; I had not. I put the piece of paper back and took an- other piece from my own coat, which was hanging near. Then I returned to the table and sat down. Harvy occu~ pied a place beside me. He‘ had already written his opinion and had taken out a knife to sharpen his pencil. “Let me take your knife for a mo- ment, please,” I said to him. Without hesitation he handed it to me. It was Walter Hood's knife—the large blade was gone! I had all I could do to restrain myself, but having sharp- ened my pencil .I returned the knife to him with a mere thank you. I learned. afterwards that the accident of his hav- ing that knife in his possession was at- tributable to the fact that he had not worn that pair of trousers since the night of the fire, and now used the knife without remembering the loss it had sustained doing a very peculiar piece of work, to the execution of which it had been made silbservient. After deliberating seme' ten minutes or so it was ascertained that eleven of the jury 'were bent upon returning a x erdict of guilty, though most were fa- vorable to recommending the prisoner lo mercy. But Harvy was inexorable. He would ext-end no mercy. Presently I started up and pretended to be faint and asked to be excused for a few minutes. I kicked at the door and the sheriff came. He let me out, and when we had gained a safe distance I told him what I had discovered. He went away and brought back the dis- trict attorney and Walter‘s counsel. I told them what I had seen and ex- plained I-Iarvy’s conduct in the jury room, his former connection with the prisoner and his known character. The lawyers retired for a. little while and came back attended by a constable and a freshly-drawu paper. They desired me to point out the coat immediately on entering the room, and together we went in. ‘ I pointed out the coat, the sheriff tak- ing it and demanding to know to whom it belonged. I-Iarvy jumped up and would have seized it, but he was held back. Word was sent to the judge that the jury could not agree. We were summoned and discharged, and then , Harvy was searched, the knife being found in his possession, and his be- iavior at once exposed his guilt. A ; new jury was impaneled and Walter . was acquitted. Shortly afterwards Harvy was tried and it was plainly proved that he had ‘ set fire to the house; that the woman who kept- it was to have been burned in it, as he had looked her in one of the rooms before setting fire to the place, - because she had incurred his displeas- ure in some way, and this was his rc- ienge. Not only she, but two of the girls living with her had suspected him from the first, but they dared not com- plain lest he should not be found guilty, and then would be sure to murder them. The hardened villain confessed his guilt after he had been condemned, and then it was that he told how he hap- pened to get the paper and the knife. It was he who had robbed IValtcr, and when he took the old letter, which he had found in Walter’s pocketbook, to use as a torch in setting fire to the place he did not notice what it was, and even when the burnt half was produced in court he had entirely forgotten that be 11 ad put the other half in his pocket, as he must have done. As to the knife, he had also taken that from V Taltcr's ‘ pocket and put it in his own, using it : on the night of the fire to pry open the i window, and then, broken as it was, re- ; turned it to his pocket without think- ! ing anything more about it. ‘~ Thus was Walter saved by an accil" dent and Harvy sent to his due punish- , ment; and the moral of the story is that, while a youth can make all the good ‘If he continues on with evil compan- ', ionship he is not safe—Banner of Gold. . . b -resolutions thought can? suggest, yet . A. 'NEGHTMARE hoarse. i She Was Sure of One Hundred Dollars at ‘ Least for the Picture Be Painted. - She awoke with a start and there was 3 a little cry of alarm on her lips as she sat up 111 bed. For a moment she did not fully realize whereshc was. Then she missed her husband from her side and a hopeful expression lit up her face. Propping herself upon one elbow she proceeded to listen. It was as she had hoped. In a few moments she heard her husband out in the other room. 110 was uttering shrill cries of terror and seemed to be trying to rout some; enemy. » “He’s got ’em again,” remarked his wife, after she had listened to the sounds for a little while. “I thought that last hot-scotch Would fetch him " Getting out of bed, she went into the other room and lit all the gas jets. Her husband was rushing up and down the room in a frenzy, first pointing at one of the corners and then running his thin, tapering fingers through his long hair. “Do you see them all?” asked his wife, anxiously. “Yes," he replied, in a hoarse voice; “there is the girl with the green hair. over near the bookcase, the pink dog is up in the chandelier, while you’ll find the horse with the purple mane. in the \\ ard- robe, where I chased him awhile ago.” There was a happy smile on the wife's face as she ministered to her husband's needs. First she wrapped him careful- ly in a large shawl and then led him to a chair, in which she fastened him by means of a clever arrangement of straps, which allowed his arms to be free. Then she drew an easel with a fresh canvas on it before him, tied his pallet in position and placed his paint and brushes within reach. “I‘ll be all right now,” he said. “If you'll only give me a nip out of the bottle to brace me up.” “I hope so, Lorenzo," she returned. “We owe two months’ rent and the grocer has become rather tiresome." After putting her arm around his neck and kissing him. she went back to bed. When she awoke in the morning and went into the other room to turn out the lights her husband was putting the fininshing touches to a new-style poster. “It will fetch $100,” murmured the wife, as she saw that her husband had faithfully reproduced all the mon- strosities he had seen while in the jim- jams.—N. Y. World. ' FEATHERED CANDLE SHADE. How Idle .Woman Can Turn Barnyard Trophies to Account. Now that candle shades are so much used, new ideas in this line are very much in demand. One of the very lat- est fancies is to make these little shades of feathers. The way this 1.. done is very simple. First, cut a card— board foundation, and cover it with silk to match your feathers. This must be done very neatly. Then get some soft, long feathers from your poultry man, who will probably keep a few for you when plucking fowls if asked to do so; or, if youlive in the country. and have a hen-house of your own, all the better, as you can then have as many as you like. Dye the feathers any artistic shade you fancy. When quite .lrg. shake them out before a fire, anal Si‘Y.‘ them around the foundation so that the long ends come for below it. Catch them here and there invisibly, so that they may not slip, and round the top twist baby ribbon and tie in a tiny bow at one side. The best colors and those which conceal the light least are scur- lct and yellow. The little brass holders which fit on to the candle and hold the shade in place can be bought anywhere for a small sum. Parrots' feathers look charming on these shades, and very good effects can also be obtained by using peacocks’ feathers, the lovely shades of blue and green looking quite delightful with the soft light under- neatli.—-Chicago Inter Ocean. Worked the Other Way. “Madam,” he said in a gentle, sooth- ing voice, which only the man who has something to sell can successfully as- sume. “I have here an article of soap which—” “Don’t want any soap,” she replied, flatly. ' “But your younger brother there must get a great many grease-spots on his clothes. p N ow, if you would provide some of that soap—” “When you allude to my younger \bro- ther, I suppose you mean that boy who is standing over by the fence?” , “Certainly.” ' “Well, heisn’t my younger brother. He’s my son, and what’s more, he’s the youngest of four, and what’s more than that, I read the papers, and if you think you can flatter me by pretending that I. look youthful, you’re wrong. I don‘t need any soap, and my time’s precious.” —+Detroit Free Press. Taking a Broad View. WearyWatkins—They ain’t no use to call this a free country as long as a man kin be fined fer workin’ on Sunday. l: hadn’t-ought to be done; don’t 32-: r;;‘. 7.- so ? Hungry Higgins—Leastways no; as more than for workin’ on week days—— Indianapolis Journal. ~A Presumptuouo Beast. W'heler—Saw a thrilling thing to-daj Runaway horse went tearing along the sidewall; out in the edge of town and nearly ran over a half dozen children b6- fore he was stopped. \Valker—I guess the fool beast thought he was a bicycle—Indianapolis Journal. > - Clrcumlocutory. . An Irish street car conductor called out shrilly to the passengers standing in the aisle: “Will thim in front plaze to move up, so that thim behind can take the places of thim in front, an’ lave room for thim who are nayther in front or behind ?”—-— Tit-Bits. ’ ‘ Sufficient Reason. Mrs. Wickwire—Why don’t you ever wash your face ? Dismal Dawson—Don’t want the sun to git. a chance to spile me cpmplextion. —Indianapolis Journal. ' " ‘ l I WORK .OF THE MlSSlSSlPPl. . Every Year the Father of Waters Can-lea | Down 3 Square Mlle of Land. The Mississippi has in the course of ages transported from the mountains 1 and high land within its drainage area isutlicient material to make 400,000 1 square miles of new land by filling up an estuary which extended from its original outfall to. the Gulf of Mexico for a length of 500 miles. and in width from 30 to 40 miles. This river, says Longman‘s Magazine, is still pouring solid matter into the gulf, where it is spread out in a fan-like shape over"a coast line of 150 miles, and is filling up at the rate of 302,000,000 tons a. year, or six times as much soil as was removed in the construction of the Manchester ship canal, and sufficient to make a square mile of new land, allowing, for it having to fill up the gulf to a depth 0580 yards. Some idea of the vastness of this operation may be conceived when the fact is considered that some of this soil has to be transported more than 3,000 miles; and that if the whole of it had to be carried on boats at the lowest rate at which heavy material is carried on the inland waters of America, or, say, for one-tenth of a penny per ton per mile over an. average of half the total distance, the cost would be no less a sum than £2:38,000,000a year. Through the vast delta thus formed the river winds its way, twisting and turning by innumerable bends until it extends its length to. nearly 1,200 miles, or more than double the point-to-point length of the delta, continually eroding the banks in one place and building up land in another, occasionally breaking its way across a narrow neck which lies between the two extremeties and filling up the old channel. :1. . PEN AND INK ,DRAWING. Modern Imitation of the Ancients by a New Process. It is easy, of course, to understand how pen drawing should have come to be so largely employed and elaborated. It is a matter of reproduction for illus- tration. An etching-will not print with type, nor with a steel engraving. This, says the London Spectator, led in the early part of the century to the imita- tion of steel engravings by wood en- gravers, who did the business most skillfully with immense labor. The drawings for them were mostly made in pencil. lint photographic process rendered the intervention of the wood engraver needless, if the artist made a pen drawing that would photograph and process well. A pure technical difficulty can be overcome by large numbers of craftsmen; large numbers, accordingly, have learned to make pen drawings to supplant wood engravings. But it should be noted that to do this is itself a kind of reproductive process. Few elaborate pen drawings are made without a studious foundation in some other material. The pen line must fre- ’quently be traced or drawn over the pencil line, very much like the engrav- er’s tool. The point about the modems and an- cients, then, resolves itself into the imitation by the modems in a new medium of theatechnique of an old. It. is certain that the ancients could have performed this feat if they had chosen, not altogether certain that they would have chosen. For, to consider those other points of reproduction and dis- semination, the modern master seems to be in no greater hurry than the an- cient to make use of the new facilities. When such a master does take up the pen, he handles it to much grander ef- fect than do its devotees. . TIPSWRICANS. "' GEORGE T. ANGELL, the well-known friend of dumb animals, is seventy-two years of age. ANDREW CARNEGIE has aroused Brit- ish wrath by saying that it Would pay England to burn up her railroad equip- ment and replace it with American models. THE movement to erect a monument to the memory of Anne Hill Carter, the mother of Robert Edward Lee, is gain- ing in the south. , THE late 0. II. P. Burnham, the Bos- ton bookseller, who conducted his busi- ness for years in the basement of the Old South church, left nearly $400,000 to various charities. Mas. MARY E. HUNT has sued the city of Nashua, N. H., to recover $50,000 given by her for a memorial library. The suit is brought because the city, after, having the money for four years, cannot agree on a site. ‘ ..._.. It cures from lzecm’ to foot. PUritana Trade Mark. Registered. To make til?- cure of any disease com- plete and permanent, the purl 'ing, cor- reeling and building-up process must begin and-end in the Stomach. 0 ‘cf all sickness is caused by I a wrong Stomach. Puritana I . makes the Heart right, the Lungs right, the Liver right, the Blood right, the Kidneys right, the Nerves right, the Health right, because it makes the Stomach right. The Puritana treatment consists of one bottle of Puritans, one bottle of Puritans Pills, and one bottle of Purimna Tablets , all in one package. Price 81. \ All druggiats. -_ _- _' . ’ .- A FAMILY CURSE. It Seems to Have held 0:: for More Than a Century, ’ For more than 100 years, it was said, a fatal spell hung over the Goldsmids. Toward the close of the 18th cen- tury there died in London the Rabbi de Falk, who enjoyed a high reputation as a. seer. He left to Aaron Goldsmid, a great-great-grandfather of the late member for St. I’ancras, a sealed packet, . with injunctions that it was to be. care- fully preserved, but never opened. The old Dutch merchant who fennded the branch of the Goldsmid family in this country was warned that as long as his order was obeyed, so long would the Goldsmids flourish like a young bay tree. If it were‘lisregarded, ill- fortune would for all time dog the foot- steps of the race. Aaron Goldsmid left the packet inviolate for some years. One day, curiosity becoming ungovern- able, he opened it. When his servant- came to call him he was found dead. Aaron Goldsmid l'eft a large portion of his fortune to two sons, Benjamin and. Abraham. These went into business on the London stock exchange, and vast- ly increased their patrimony. Benja- min founded a naval college and per- formed many acts of less known gener- osity. He lived long, but the curse of the cabalist overtook him. Enormous- ly rich, the delusion that he would die a pauper fastened upon him, and to avoid such conclusion of the matter, he, on April 5, 1808, being in. his 55th year, died by his own hand. Two years later his brother Abraham, being con- cerned in a ministerial loan of £ 14,000,- 000, lost his nerve, blundered and bungled, sank into acondition of helpless despondency, and on September 28, 1810, a day on which a sum of £ 500,000 was due from him, he was found dead in his room. The fortunes of the family were re- stored by Isaac Goldsmid, nephew of the hapless brothers and grandson of the founder of the English house. Like all the Goldsmids, Isaac was a man of generous nature and philanthropic tendencies. With him it seemed that the curse of the cabalist had run its course. It is true that before he died he lapsed into a state of childishncss. But he had at the time passed the limit of age of fourscore. years, after which as one of the kings of his race Wrote centuries back, man’s days are but labor and sorrow. Isaac Goldsmid was succeeded in his fortune and his baron- etcy by his son Francis, on. whom the curse of the cabalist seemed to fall when he was fatally mangled, between the engines and the rails at Waterloo sta- tion.-—H. W. Lucy, in “From Behind the Speaker’s Chair.” WOULD NOT CUT HIS HAIR. Marshal Canrobert Refused to Obey the Army Regulations. It was a singular fact that the late Marshal Conrobert, the last- of the French marshals, offered in himself a constant example, of the violations of the regulations of the army in which he was so conspicuous an officer. Through- out almost the whole of his military service Canrobert wore long hair flow- ing down his shoulders, and this hair was a- sort of oriflamme to the soldiers. But ever since the year 1833 the French army regulations have positively re- quired that every officer and soldier shall wear closely cut hair, “without. any tufts, curls or ringlets whatsoever,” and severe penalties are provided for persistence in letting the hair grow long. Canrobert had a-profuse mass of hair, which he was very proud of. It was cropped to his great. grief when he went into the military school of St. Cry in. 1826, but when, as a young officer, he went into the Algerian war in 1835 he profited by the relaxation of many reg- ulations there to let his hair grow down his shoulders again. Several years later, also, in Algeria. Col. Canrobert, bare- headed, led a heroic charge at Zaatcha and his long floating hair, in the thick of the combat, served as a rallying sign to the zouaves as they swarmed through the breach. After this war Canrobert’s head of hair had already become- so fa- mous that no superior ventured to com- mand him to cut it off, t-ho‘ugh Gen. Pclissier, who hated him, once called liim “professor” in a cafe in, Paris, and by way of excuse affected to have mis- atken him for a doctor of philosophy on accpunt of his hair. The emperor Napoleon IIVI. did once venture to remonstrate with Canrobert for wearing long hair. The marshal’s response was very “Frenchy.” “Sire,” he said, “my hair belongs to history!” He did not cut- it off. It floated all through the French and German war, becoming legendary among the soldiers. Long since it. became snow white and fell upon the old marshal’s shoulders in his declining days, and it. clustered about them as his body lately lay in state in Paris—London Tit-Bits. . Canadian English. When Jean Baptiste goes on his trav- els he takes a ticket, with a. check for his baggage, and‘enters a train. (He used to go to theistation in a gig, ac- cording to M. de Gaspe,lbut I never heard him use the word, though I; know he pat-ronizes the cab—stand rather than the “place de fiacres.") “All aboard!” Ihouts the French guard. “All right.” says the French passenger. I remem- ber one day, going down from Mon-z treal to Quebec, hearing the. guard ask a swarthy habitant for his “billetz” “Eh?” said he, puzzled. “Votre ti- quette,” explained the guard. “0h, Je comprends.' Le voici.” I have even encountered 'a‘. sentence like this: “Nous leur donnerons des free ticket.” Jean Baptiste will also tell you, if you desire such information, that the train con- sists of “douze chars et un cngin,” in- stead of “douze wagons et un locomo- tive;” but he still finds time to call the railway itself a “ch’min d’fer,” having cut down the syllables from. four to fwd—Contemporary Review. --A traveler by mail routes may cover the distance between New York and San'Doming-o city in nine days. FUR SAL-EBY ‘ ‘s. B. WILSON. BUILDER, 9e WALL shutEEt.’ One b-room cottage, Boron Point- 1 lot Myrtle avenve and 1 lot Howard, avenue, 37x300 feet, East NorWulk - 1 lot, 129x180 feet, Broad River; 1 Cabin Steam Launch, 30x7 feet; 1 two-seated Sleigh; 1 two-seated Business Wagon' 2 good Stoves; House and Lot on easy- terms. ’ a Wm. Lockwood, Real Estate, Insurance and Investment Securities. . —MONEY T0 LOAN... Insurance Placed in First-Class Companies. Office—Corner Main A: Wall Sts.. Norma-l ETER L. 'GUIGUE, Florist and Nursery ‘ man ,Uuion: Avenue; north of Union (Jemtery Norwalk, Conn. Dealer in Green House Hot House and Bedding and Vege. .‘able Plants. _Fruit and Ornamental Trees bhubbery, Vines. Cut Flowers. always on hand, and all sorts of designs in flowers ar- ranged to order. . We‘rradmg and refilling cemetery lots at- tended to. HENRY TILLY. CARRIAGE MAKER . SOUTH NOR WALK, CONE , ’ —¥Manufaeturer of— Famlly Canines. Victurlasluums it ALL KINDS or- REPAIRING. TNA INSBUANCE 00., of Hu’tford Incorporated 1812. Charter Perpetu a depltal and Assets, $8,902.272JM. Insures against loss and damage by man on terms adapted to the hazard and consistent With the laws of com ensation CO LES 8t MERRILL. Sole agents for Norwalk and vicinitv: J. Belden .llurlbutt, Attorney and Camilla at Law Room 4, up stairs, GAZETTE BUILDING. ADAMS EXPRESS COMPANY Low Rates. Prompt Delivery tracnh Office, Norwalk,'at Morris Benedic t Main Office. depot. South Norwalk. L. HUNT. Agent. _ - centre. TRADI MARK“ DINO" PATCH?!- GOPVIHOH‘I'S. etc For information and free Handbook write to MUNN a CO. 361 BROADWAY. NEW Yo . Oldest bureau or securing patentsinAm ca. Every patent taken out by us ls brought before the public by a notice given tree otcharge‘ 1n the steam gamma Lar est circulation of any scientific paper in the war (1. S lendidly illustrated. No intelligent man shou d be without it. Weeklyr, $3.008. ear; $1.50 six months. Address, MU N a 00., 51.153335. 361 Broadway, New York City. The Celebrated HAZELTON cause casts; GOALS, . _ FUR RANGE AND FURNACE. ._._._—— it 1; I’ h These Goals are Free From Dirt and Slate. Will be Delivered bypareful ' Drivers. Send Order for Sample Load and Satis ’3' Your self that our claim is correct. Raymond ‘_ Bros, i seem seamen: , rewroaunnw HAVEN & nAarrom b RAILROAD. —an Your DIVISION , June 14, 1896. Trainsleave South Normans asjotlowv: , F03 N aw YORK—Accommodation trains at 9.36 'a.m., 1.11. 2.51. 4.07. 5.40, 6.50. 8.11. 10:20- _ . Express trains at 4.55.5.45. 6.15 (local) , (local). 7,05. (local). 7.55. (local). 8.21.. .s p. m. 6.55. 9.03 '(local) 9.58, 10.40. 11.37. (local) 21. m. 12.52 225.120.535.630 7.35 p.m. For Washington via.’ f Harlem River 12.53 a.m. (daily.) Seamus—Accommodation 9 15 a.'m.. 5.43, f (local).7.23,(local) 9.28 p.'m Express 4.5 5.45 a. m. . . . Fon New HAVEN AND ran Elisa—Accommo- datiou trains at 0.32. 7.33. 3.46 and 11 44 a. m.‘, ' ' .5. 1.37, 2.42. (to B’p’t). 4.20, 5:27. 6.27. 7.28 (to B’p’t). , 8.41.9.41 and 11.15 p. m. Express trains 3115.12.40; «'3' 5.04;(Nauga,~_; 1.11. 9.11 10.12-11.08 a. m. 12.05, 3.05. tuck Express) 7.10 p. m. .. » , sUNDus.—-Accommodation7.38.9 2s .15 mm. Express 12.40 and1.11 ' ‘ cur. HEMPS m; Gen-J13. .32 .s
Norwalk Chronicler