wNervousness
Is only another name for impure -
blood, for no person is weak and ner-
vous whose blood is perfectly pure.
When the blood is full of the germs
of disease, and lacking in the red cor-
puscles which give it vitality, when it
fails to properly nourish the organs
and tissues of the body, what can you
expect but that tired feeling and ner-
vousness?
Of course Scrofula, Salt Rheum,-
Catarrh and Rheumatism are uni-
versally recognized as blood diseases,
' for which Hood’s Sarsaparilla, as the
best blood purifier, is everywhere
acknowled the greatest remedy. .
Therefore, as Hood’s Sarsaparilla
cures all blood diseases, it is the best
remedy for that condition of the blood
which causes Nervousness.
It is a false ideato think you are
curing your nervousness when you
are taking a preparation which only
quiets your nerves! It is like trying to
“drown" your sorrows in the flowing
bowl.- They are sure to return.
We wish to make» most impressive,
then, this truism:
You cannot purify your blood by
panama or QUIE'rmo your nerves
with opiate, narcotic or nerve com-
pounds. If you take such articles
you are only TRIFLING with your
troubles. There is SURE to be a REAG-
rron which will leave you worse than
you were before.
’ Why not then, take the true course,
follow the bee line to the state of
health, purify your blood and cure
' your Nervousness by taking
HOOD’S
Sarsaparilla
— OPENED.
‘ Prof. George Yoerger has
Opened his Boxing School
for the Winter.
Private instructions at the
pupils home if desired.
Full course, 12 lessons,
. . -~’$10.
ADDRESS
Prof. George Yoerger.
. Norwalk, Conn
or apply at this office.
uuuscuuerun ‘
. uuqu‘
It Pure Malt Extract. _
A Substitute for Solid Food
Highest percentage Extract. Low-
est percentage Alcohol. An Effect
ive Tonic. An Agreeable Beverage.
A mild Stimulant.
Just what physicians will prea
scribe for Nursing Mothers. Con-
valescents and victims of Insomnia
or Nervous Disorders resulting from
Impaired Digestion and Overwork.
Bottled for Sale and De'ivercd Anywhe .,
LONG ISLAND BOWLING Bl}.
: 280-284 £91131: 8!.» Bmcklyn
FOR SALE BY
EDWARD P. WEED
Logkwoonls LIGHT museum~ an
_ PACKAGE DELIVERY
Cheap rates, Will also take orders for mes
senger seryice in New York. Goods called
or and dehyered to all parts of the town.
Orders received atE P. Weed’s Drug Store
25.33%): Street. with telephone connection un-
l. .‘ .
C E. LOCKWOOD.
DAILY FREIGHT LINE
BETWEEN ,.
'NORWALK.
so. NORWALK
New YORK.
Propellers
city of Norwalk,
Vulcan and Eagle.
Leave Norwalk at 5 p. m.
Leave So. Norwatk at 6 p. m.
Leave New York, Pier 23,
E. R., Beekman St.. 5 p m,
CENTRAL NATIONAL BANK,
740' WALL 812, NORWALK.
NUORPORATED SEPT. 1. ‘876.
arl'l‘AL. ;. _ $100,000
my: M. Homms. President.
. n. BUYER. Vice-President.
WILLIAM A. Gun'rrs, Cashier
/ DIRECTORS :
GEORGE M. HOLMES, H. E. Damn.
9. L. CUNNINGHAM, J. T, Psowrr'r
n L. Bones, 8. H. HOLMES
J. Cousins. J R.
Dlsedunt Day. Saturdav-
l" ‘.
, ier—bouncer hastily stepped back, for
'he, in conciliatory tones, at the same
one of them for a cent.
MY GIRL.
She cannot play the organ, piano or the
like,
She never wore the bloomers and she ,
doesn’t ride the bike;
In dress she’s not as stylish as some others ‘
that. you see,
But still she’s just the sweetest girl in all
the world to me.
You may not think her witty, you cannot
call her smart,
She never heard of Trilby and knows noth-
ing of Delsarte;
She doesn't seem well posted in the new-
. made woman’s ways,
And never talks of football or the great
athletic craze. .
Sometimes she helps her mother, but now
I must confess,
When she tries her hand at baking she
makes an awful mess.
Her cake is never eaten, and, no matter
how she tries,
There's no one seems to care about
flavor of her pies.
the
And yet, somehow. she’s managed her
image to enshrine,
To creep into and twine herself around this
heart of mine,
Until I think “without her how lonely life
would be,”
This world would lose its brightness and
leave but misery.
Her age-that's a secret that girls do not
confess, .
They always seem inclined to make it just.
a little less;
But she's a sweet exception unto the rules
that be, .
If you ask she’ll proudly answer thus:
“I’se dust edzatly tree.”
“I’se dust edzatly tree."
——Cleveland Plain Dealer.
PEGDOT’S GREAT SCHEME
A Plan to Do Philanthropists Who
Have Doubts.
It Was the Result of an Abundant Supply
of Food and a Great Scarcity of
Drink—More Happiness in
Panhandler's Row.
Panhandiers' row has a new method
of outwitting practical philanthropy,
which is not the variet-y for which the
panhandlcrs sigh. It is the invention
of Pegdot, whose wooden leg is one of
the standbys of that part of Park row
which used to be called Chatham street,
and its mother'is necessity. . For some
weeks and‘ luck and I’egdot had
been strangers, and, though he
had been more than well sup-
plied w1t-h food, drink had been very
source, a peculiar combination of cir-
cumstances wherefrom he evolved his
great scheme. About the period of the
merry Yule-tide Pegdot’s wooden mem-
ber slumped its irregular way into the
Imperial restaurant and cafe, where the
royalty of the row is fed at prices rang-
ing from ten cents for a half stew up to
fifteen can ts for an extra. steak. Know-
ing the visitor’s reputation of old, the
cashier, who also actsas bouncer, cast
a glance behind him to make sure that
his club was in easy reach, and said:
“Buy yer chips here er y’ can’t git
inter this game."
“Ah, Jim, good afternoon,” said Peg,
with the easy elegance for which he was
famed. “I dropped in here to have a
little talk with you. I’ve got a little idea
I’d like—”
“Have you got t'irteen cents?” de-
manded the cashier, putt-ing strenuous
emphasis upon the set price of the Im-
perial’s justly celebrated table d’hote
dinner.
With an airy wave of his hand Peg
dismissed the question. -
“What I came to see you about is
this,” he explained. “I have thought
out‘a little scheme—”
“I’m onter yer little schemes. Y’
don‘t go on the outside of any tabble dote
meals here on the stren’th of a divvy yer
goin‘ ter get t’morrow.”
“Not at all,” replied Peg, with dig—
nity, though an expression of pain
extraordinary grimace,
flitted over his features. “I have no
such intention, I assure you.”
“Nor y‘ don’t slide in on me like y’ did
w’en y’ give me th’ song an’ dance.
about Shinny Miggs settlin’ fer yer
grub, an’ then put in yer three square
meals with Shinny, beside yer puttin’ in
more than he cud pay fer on his own I
hook, let alone squarin’ fer youse.”
“If you are unwilling to let bygones
be bygones,” began Pegdot, with gath-
ering wrath on his brow; “if you’re
looking for trouble and won’t listen to
a gent who wants to explain something
to you—” ' i
A minatory wave of the wooden leg
suggested the conclusion, and the cash-
l
r
Pegdot had been known to throw him~
self on his back and rotate f rom his own
axis with such effect that those who en-
countered the wooden leg in its flight
went to the hospital in an ambulance.
“Don’t git google-eyed, Peg,” said
time laying his hand on the emergency
club. “Put some ice down yer collar,
an’ sing yer tra—la.“
Thus adjured the veteran panhandler
propped himself up against the desk,
and Jim hastily closed the cash drawer,
an involuntary tribhte to his character
which in nowise discomfited the Visitor.
“You observed me in here last week
several times, Jim,” began Peg.
“Yep,” was the answer. “Y’ was
here till I t’ought y‘ muster give up
drinkin’ fer a livin’ an' taken for eatin’.”
‘ “You may also have observed,” pro-
ceeded the visitor, “that each time I
was brung here by a gent who paid for
my dinner, and then went away.”
“ ” had a. good t’ing in tow every
turn outer th’ box,” assented Jim.
“Four of those last week,” said Peg-
dot, reflectively, “and I couldn’t touch
Nothing but
meats. Jim, do you understand why
those gents came here and blew me off
to a square?”
“Repitation of th’ restyrant,” said
Jim, glancing proudly at an Aubrey--
Beardsleyish sign informing a hungry
public through the medium of writing
letters in sanguinary hues that“punkin
pie” was to be had for “three sent-s a
slise.” '
ists.”
“I t’ought they was soft marks.”
“Those gents, Jim, were philanthrop- .
4
“That’s what I said, uutI got it down
finer. Now my scheme is to get ahe'ad
of these philanthropists this way.
Some gent that writes letters to the
papers wrote about how no real, first-
class philanthropist would give money
to a street- beggar, but only take him to
a joint and buy him a meal. I Wish I
had that mug here,” and the wooden
leg described an exclamation point in
the air. “Since then I ain’t had a
thing but grub, grub, grub, till it gives
me the jiggers to look at a bill of fate.”
“Watcher goin’ her do about it?” in-
quired the other in unconscious para-
phrase of a. historic personage.
“I’m going to do the philanthropist,”
returned Pegdot. “andyou're going to
chip in and push it along. Now, look-
a-here, what do you think I want of
your meals?”
“Not much; you want the ready ter
soak away inter the bank with enough
lef’ out fer a ball an’ a. bench all night
at the Rest.” ,
To this. summing up of his ambitions
the panhandler agreed with a. nod. He
leaned over and said confidentially:
“Every time I run in a good thing
here the joint gets the biz, don’t it ?”
“Sure.”
“And I get nothing.”
“Y’ get yer grub.”
“Grub be darned,” said Pegdot, with
great emphasis. “I want cash; that’s
what I want. Understand?”
“Yep. Keep that stilt o’ yourn glued
ter t-h’ floor, will yer?"
“Here’s the scheme: I run in the guy
and he pays here and gets out. I sit
down, but I don’t order, and as quick as
he gets out I get up without eating any-
thing. But you got the 13 cents for the
grub. You give me the ten‘cents and
keep the three cents. You’s the three
cents to the good, and you get it for
nothing, for I don’t take a. bite. Under-
stand ?” .
N0 audible reply came from the
other, but he thrust his face forward,
drew up the corner of his mouth in an
winked vie“
lently, and then waggled his hand un-
der his chin. That was all.
“Oh! well,” said the inventor of the
scehme, somewhat discomfited, “I
ain’t mean; say eight cents to me and
the nickel to you."
“D’yer take this joint fer a Chris’mas
tree?” inquired Jim, coolly. “Youse
gimme seven cents an’ take six; see?”
“Do I get a bowl of stew thrown in?”
“That goes,” said Jim, and the deal
was concluded. ,
The very next day in came Peg with a
philanthropist in tow. He was a young
philanthropist, able bodied and well.
dressed, and Peg tipped a wink to his
friend Jim.
“Pay here, gent," said Jim.
“All right; one meal. How much?"
said the young man.
"T ‘irtecn cents,’ replied the cashier,
and the philanthropist, putting down
the money. followed Peg’s lead into the
warrior, who had always shown great
. his warriors.
place, which was more than Peg had ;
reckoned on.
“You wouldn’t sit down here, 'sir,”
lie cxpostulated. “A gent-
don’t want to be seen in a place like
this.”
like you
“I guess none of my acquaintances 3
are likely to see me here," returned the .
young man, easily. “'Go
eat.”
ahead and .
“But it ain’t a fit place for you,” in- ;
sistcd Peg.
“It may not look so bad, I.
but it ain‘t so clean as it might be, and
.thc board of licalt-h’s been after it.
Only poor unfortunates like me eats
here.”
“Don’t apologize for the place,” was
the reply. “It isn’t so bad as it might
be.”
Seeing nothing else for it, Peg or-
dered his dinner and set to work upon
it; but it was slow work. Six beens
and a couple of whiskies thatmorning
had gone far toward ruining his appe—
tite, and it seemed as if every swallow
must be his last. In despair he made a
final attempt.
“Say, Mike, what did they do with
that hobo that was took with typhus in
here yesterday?” he inquired of a
waiter, winking to make Mike under-
stand he was to back up the statement.
lut Mike wasn’t quick enough.
“Typhus, me eye!” he said, disdain-
fully. “Ain’t yuse had de snakes
enough times t’ know ’em when y’
see ’em? Say, yer wooden—teed 01’ soak,
I’ll make a fried egg outer yer face if
yer screw it up at me (lat way agin.”
“I don‘t care to take any unnecessary
chances," said Peg’s philanthropist.
“In case it might have been typhus,
I’ll take precautions,” and pouring some
vinegar into a. saucer he scattered it
about, whereupon Mike immediately
put down a two-cent check for “extras.”
It was a hard struggle for Peg to
down that meal, but the young man was
watching him closely, and,he had to
do it. All things come to an end, but
the meal’s end was very near being
Peg’s end; at least he felt that way.
It filled him up till he was too inert to
beg, so he went to the Rest and hiber-
nated over night on the strength of
two drinks purchased with a dime he
had saved from the night before.
While there he perfected his plan
and unfolded it. to his friend Jim as
soon as he could get to him. The result
was that a» new bill of fare was specially
prepared for .any philanthropist Peg
might run in who wanted to see him
feed. On this special bill regular din-
nor was 25 cents instead of 13, and 3.11
dishes were double their ordinary price.
Thereafter when the clump of Peg’s
wooden member was heard approach-
ing Jim handily turned the price mot—
toes to the wall and thrust forward,
They divided even on '
the fake bill.
the extra price.
Since his invention Peg has been
prospering greatly. His only grief
is that he couldn’t copyright the
scheme, for his chief rival, “Fishball
Jenkins,” who poses as a one-armed
veteran, with the lost arm strapped
,under his waistcoat, has imitated the
idea, and is running a. cooperative busi-
ness with one of the other Row restaur-
ants. Panhandlers’ row is a bad place
for practical philanthropy nowadays.
-"-—.LT. Y. SUD. ' ‘
rnEwEvEerevslzstre.°
LEGEND-0F" INDIAN "HILL;
BY JESSIE M. TRESHAM.
There is no more picturesque region
in the state of West Virginia than that
through which flows the little stream
known as Indian river. Its valley is
green and fertile, broadening as the
stream approaches its outlet, the
mighty Ohio, and hemmed in by chains
of, rugged hills. ,
The stream derives its name from the
fact that, prior to the time of the first
white settlers, this valley was a favor-
ite hunting ground of many Indian
tribes of the Ohio valley. Tracesof
their occupancy still remain. The
farmer yet upturns the ashes of their
campfires and their implements of war
with his plowshare. And, on a hill
overlooking the river not far from its
month, are the graves of many of the
race.
Most of the traditions have long since
been forgotten, but one concerning
this spot is still preserved. Once in the
early days of the white settlement, 3.
large party of Indians came into the
valley to hunt, and one night encamped
on Indian hill. That night a band of
unprincipled white men fell upon their
unguarded camp, and massacred the
entire party. Not one escaped to tell
the story of the murder. The chief, a
friendship for the whites, was taken
mortally wounded before the leader of
the attacking party. With the dignity
of his race, he raised his head, and
looked with. scorn into the faces of his
captors. Then with his last breath, he
invoked a curse upon each of them—a
death by violence. '
So goes the legend. There remains
to prove its truth the hill, whose stony
soil stubbornly refuses to yield any
crop but desolate patches of broomsedge
and a. few stunted cedar shrubs—the
effect of the curse, the country people
say. The same authorities tell us that
there on stormy nights the old chief may
be seen walking among the graves of
And he who sees the
ghostly sentinel is sure soon to meet
with some misfortune.
The owner of the soil of this historic
spot was a wealthy farm er named Ford.
His title deeds covered many acres of
fertile valley and valuable forest land.
But he had one possession which was
dearer to him than field 'and woodland
-—his daughter Winnie.
Winnie was a. pretty and rather
spoiled young woman of eighteen. _
Since the death of her mother, a few'
years before, she had been practically ,
her own mistress, for her father never '
crossed her will either concerning her i
own affairs or those of the household.
It is not strange, therefore, that Miss
lVinnie was somewhat proud and will- ,
ful. Many a country youth sadly real- '5
ized this, and from a distance admired
the heiress oflthe Ford acres. ' ,
All but one; that one was Bobb Carr, 3
the only son of a neighboringt‘farmer,
whose gland joined Mr. Ford’s, and .
almost equaled it in extent. Bob was
a- tall and awkward youth of twenty-;
one, with an incipient mustache andi
plenty of conceit. He was desperately ;
in love with \Vinnic. The frequent.“
snubbings he received did not quench
his ardor in the least. Besides, Bob
was encouraged by the knowledge that
Mr. Ford favored his suit. For the
farmer, having in mind the consolida-
tion of the two largest farms in the?
valley, really considered Bob a good'
match for his daughter.
“See here,” he said to her one day.
“If that young Carr comes here to see
you, I want you to treat him well. Do
you hear?” “Yes,” replied Winnie
shortly, with a toss of her head indica—
ting that she would consult her own in-
clinations.
So Bob called at the farmhouse to be 1
received by the farmer with the utmost
cordiality and by his daughter with the
most freezing coldness. But, confident
of his ultimate success, he kept up his
unwelcome attentions.
That winter, the little school in the
valley was taught by a young man
named Ridley McKendrick. Ridley was
an ambitious young fellow, striving to
pay his way through college, after the ,
fashion of so many successful men, by]
teaching. As Mr. Ford’s house was?
nearest the school, Ridlcy boarde
there. '
It was not long before-he and Winnie .
became quite well acquainted. They!
discovered that their literary tastes;
were similar, and spent many of the
long winter evenings reading and dis-
cussing some' favorite novel or poem.
Mr. Ford would sit by, and watch them
sharply through‘ his glasses. Often it
occurred to him that it was not safe to
allow this handsome young man to be '
with his daughter so much. But, he
reassured himself, no harm could possi-
bly come of it, so long as he was pres-
ent, and their conversation did not wan-
der from the subject of books.’
Ah! Mr. Ford, you had forgotten
that a 100k may sometimes convey a,
meaning deeper than words, and that
the young man could read the storied
hero’s words with such feeling and in
such a tone that they 'became his own.
Bob, who often dropped in of an even-
ing, realizing something of this as he
sat and listened, wished that he ap-
preciated poetry, and that that con-
founded girl would be as agreeable to
him as to the schoolmaster.
Mr. Ford was not entirely blind, and
at last spoke to Winnie, intending .to
reprimand her severely: *
“Seems to me' you and the school-
master are getting. to be pretty good
friends over your reading?”
“We are,” said Winnie, raising such
an innocent face to her father’s gaze
that he felt entirely disarmed.
Not long after this the pupils of Rid-
ley’s school were challenged to a, spell-
ing match by the pupils of an adjoin-
ing district. In a country neighbor-
hood where little happens'in the way
of entertainment,'an event of, this kind
is hailed with interest, especially by
the young people. Bob Carr heard of
it, and: went immediately to ask Win-
nie to accompany him to the spelling,
match. - *
In order to propitiate her father
Winnie consented. Bob was lifted to a. l
t
. entered the house.
state of perfect bliss, and he deter-
;nitned, that that night should settle hi
8. 8'.
On the appointed evening Bob made
his appearance attired in a. bran-new
suit, and a high collar thatrasped his
chin Whenever he turned his head. He
waited in the parlor‘ till Winnie com-
pleted her preparations. When she ap-
peared 'he presented her, with a. small
bouquet of his mother’s geraniums and
a bag of peppermint lozenges. Winnie
accepted these offerings with a. smile
that made Bob’s heart beat rap-
turously. '
Then they started for the ”school;
house. A little snow had fallen, cov-
ering the brown fields, and powdering
lightly the green foliage of pine and
cedar; little patches of it clung to the
bare boughs of other trees, as if to
cover their wintry nakedness. The
moon had not'yet risen, but the light
of the faded day seemed to linger over
the landscape. . 1'
“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” remarked
Bob, holding open the gate for Winnie
to pass through.
“Yes,” answered. Winnie, carelessly.
“Don’t the bushes look pretty, drifted
with Snow?" went on Bob.
These remarks were something unu~
sual from Beb, who, as a. rule, main-
tained a strict silence till Winnie, in
desperation, made some comment on
the weather. Bob was evidently work-
ing himself up into a sentimental mood,
and there was no telling to what it
would lead. ’
“How ghostly Indian hill looks,” sug-
gested Winnie, glancing toward the
haunted spot, white and desolate in the
twilight.
Bob looked toward the place and
shivered involuntarily, as the many
stories concerning it recurred to him.
“Did you ever see the Indian chief
that haunts the hill?” continued Win-
nie, wickedly.
“No, I' never did, but lots of people
have,” said- Bob. “It is a sure sign of
bad luck, they say; Uncle Sam Gibson
saw him a. few nights before he broke
his, leg, and Joe Smith just before his
house burned.”
“It would be a great experience to-
See a ghost, though. I almost wish he
would make his appearance now,” re-
marked Winnie. But her companion
shuddered at the very thought.
They soon reched the schoolhouse,
where Winnie escaped from her escort,
and sought the society of some friends.
The pupils of the rival schools took
their places on the floor, and spelled
without intermission till they were all
tired out. Then everybody prepared to
set out for home.
“Let’s follow the path across the
fields,” proposed Winnie, as they were
leaving. “It’s ever so much nearer.”
“But that leads right past Indian
hill,” objected Bob. ,
“You aren’t afraid?” demanded Win-
nie, scornfully.
“No, I’m not,” :declared Bob, some-
what ncttled, “I was only thinking you
might be.” ‘
So across the fields they went. Bob
derived some satisfaction for the insult
offered him in the pleasure of assisting
Winnie over the fences. As they drew
near the haunted spot, Winnie herseff
felt anything but bold, and, fixing her
eyes on the lights of her home gleam-
ing in the distance, she hurried along
as fast as even Bob wished to go.
They were crossing the last fence at
the very foot of- the hill, when Winnie,
standing on the fence, with her hands
on the top rail, involuntarily raised her
eyes, Instantly they'fell upon an ob-
ject terrifying to the boldest heart.
.Outlined against the sky was a tall,
dark figure, seemingly wrapped in a.
white blanket, and decked about the'
head with feathers. The old chief was
keeping his silent vigil over his sleep-
ing braves. , '
Winnie uttered an inarticulate cry
and pointed with a trembling finger
toward the hill. Bob raised his eyes
and saw the specter. For an instant
he stared at it with a gaping mouth,
and then, with a yell of terror, turned
and fled.
’Winnie, left to her fate, started to'
follow. But, getting the better ofhcr
fright, she checked herself, and turned
to get another view of the apparition.
When she had“ done so, despite the fact
that she was alone at that hour of mid-
night in a haunted locality, she sat
down and laughed more heartily than .
she had ever laughed before in her life.
For the ghost was only a blackened
stump, partly covered with-snow, and
close beside it grew a cedar shrub,
whose bushy top had formed the feath-
ery headdress. Seen from the fence
the perspective was just right to pre-
sent'to the excited vision the exact ap-
pearance of the Indian ghost as it was
so often described. '
"Why, Miss Ford, what is the mat-
ter?” ,
It was Ridley’s voice that interrupted
Winnie’s fit of laughter. He, too, had
followed the shortest road, and was
much surprised to come"upon Winnie.
alone by the wayside. Controlling her
mirth, she explained the situation.
Then she invited him to go back to the
fence and have a look at the “ghost.”
Ridley was much amused, and said
the object was startling. He didn’t
blame Bob for getting frightened— he
would have been so himself. “Butl
don’t think I should have deserted
you,” he added; and Winnie believed
so, too.
However, both of them were disposed
to forgive Bob, as he had given them
the opportunity of walking home to-
gether.
Mr. Ford looked displeased _as they
But Winnie, with
a greater show of anger than she felt,
perhaps, hastened to tell her father of
Bob’s cowardly act. He made no com-
ment; but nnever again did he urge his
daughter to accept Bob as a. lover. And '
that luckless youth, feeling that now
all his efforts were vain, ceased to inflict
his attentions upon her. '
But Winnie and the young school-
master remained excellent friends.
When school closed and Ridley re-
turned to college, you may be sure he did
not cease to hear from' the farmhouse.
Before many years had passed—but I ‘
have no right» to carry this story fur- .
ther, for it was only to deal with the
legend of ,Indian hill. ' '
And it did. ' .
' w‘ .7 .. I . .-_
' 'EvEanoor genours Eon ‘
HALE’S‘ _. . i ,,
LUNG‘ ”
BALSANI. *
It Cnres‘When all Others Fail.
250. .1 at. , 4
'FT A Trl-Trs
us our in Pelee-1
02" . -
-
MEAT. -
Round, Sirloin and Por-
terhouse Steaks, Sausge,
Potand Rib Roasts
Reduced 20. a Pound.
All First Quality Meat.
J. W. BOGARDUS,
DRINK. -'
.HArHueN
sperm:
wrrrr '
FOR THE
Stomach,
Bo wels,
Liver and
Kidneys.
FOR SALE BY
The Holmes, Keeler dialled Cu
tlttt Auu wrurte
suruucs.
Having rocured a large line of handsome
Fall and . inter suitiugs, I am ready to make
them up 1n' the latest styles.
_ 'F.KOCOUR,
:7 lterth Main St, South Norwatk.
@EERSQE‘FSE
NEW LOT IN BLUE AND BLACK.
3 Tailor-made latest style, 15'
$6 10 $1 09 waists and Sleeve linings.a l
D GOVAL WORSTED SUI S.
I ‘BLUE AND BLACK, . T .
$8.50 a Suit. Fm Enamels...
Call and examine.
H. GOODWIN,
170 WASHINGTON STEFET BRIDGE.
Horace E. {lane},
EXULLSI 01.
. 1 q 1 11 <. ‘. .~
Leveryanc §aie_s stable.
v—Mvu---vu7vu\
Oppoeitr [lanlmrr and
Norwalls Ram oad nepdr _
Norwalk, Conn Stylish
Single or-Doubl: Team
with or Withom drivers
Safe horser- for warren
andchlldre. .
-:. DDLE HORsrs A, Elf-"*1! or
Nice to Take—.4 ‘
Children like it
to Cure their
Coughs and
Colds.
USE
WIlllAMS’
,: euueH 'uilleu’r
WILLIA
«
ms? a'cAnL-srou 00.. .
'Hsnmao._c'r. .. ' '
\
Norwalk Chronicler