WEEtKLY - NORWALK - GAZETTE.
ets.
A NOVELETTE.
By William Earle Baldwin.
. gellpyrlght, I891.by Globe Press Association.)
CHAPTER VIII.
(Synopsis of Preceding Chapters.)
CHAPTER I.
Langi'ord flnds Philip Davaris a Greek violin:
let, in New York after the latter has been on a
mysterious journey. Finds a telegram dated
Paris: "Come at once. Important discoveries.
Helene." Who is Helene? The two friends g)
'10 Lenox later. Davaris’s strange agitation at
meeting a society girl, Gladys Montague.
CHAPTER II.
Two society men. Ned Lawrence and Thurs-
ton meet Davaris at the country house of Mrs.
Hamlyn at Lenox. Lawrence’s flirtation with
Constance Hamylu. Miss . Montague shows
Davaris a picture. "That man your father?"
he says and is strangely excited. After Davarls’s
departure the picture is gone.
' CHAPTER III.
Thurston and Huvermeyer get lost while
hunting and take refuge in the house of an old
hermit in the mountains. Davaris’s name
mentioned. The old man charges the young
fellows to tell Davaris: “Come to me as fast as
a horse can bring you,"
CHAPTER IV.
Thurston and Havermeyer wake in the morn-
ing and find Westerly dead. Havermeyer takes
a “Kodak" of him. Seth Dowe's story of the
hermit and his elegance and breeding when he
first came to the woods long ago. Seth mails a
packet given him by Westerly addressed:
Philip Davaris, Paris.
CHAPTER V.
“ Davarls suspected of stealing the picture.
He comes out from the house in a strange
manner and finds Gladys. She is puzzled at
this. Ha-ve’rmeycr gives Davaris the hermlt's
message. "Did you ever know a man by the
name of Cyrus Westerly?" Davaris repeats in
a dazed tone: "Cyrus Westerly."
CHAPTER \‘I.
Davarls recognizes the picture Havermeyer
took of the dead Westerly as that of a man he
knew when a boy in Greece. Davaris plays on
the violin to Gladys. he is about to propose to
her and acting strangely leaves hurriedly.
CHAPTER VII.
"Ned Lawrence's return to Mrs. Hamylyn’s
where he is one of a house party. Hears Dav-
aris playing, sees a strange woman in the hall
with a savage look on her face watching Dav-
aris. Hears conversation later, outside, be-
tween tho woman and Davaris. "Helene" is
urging Davaris to do something and he hangs
back. What does it all mean?
“Oh, I beg your pardon; I supposed no
one was here," exclaimed Ned Lawrence,
:as he threw aside the portiercs of the
library and saw Miss Montague sitting
there alone. “May 1 come in ?"
“Certainly,” returned Gladys raising
her head. “I wanted to tell you some-
thing. You were quite mistaken about
that photograph.”
“That photograph again,” groaned Law-
rence under his breath.
“If Mr. Davaris took it as you were good
enough to declare, how could I find it this
afternoon in my portfolio?”
“Did you find it?”
“Yes; I think we missed it in our search.
I was awfully glad to get it again.
“Odd,” commented Lawrence. ' '
And then Miss Montague suddenly re-
membered how Davaris had come out of
the library that afternoon, and startled
her so. What could he have been dointr in
the room? Was it not odd that she fomid
the photograph there a few hours after
Davari 5 had been there?
Lawrence was not prepared, to explain
how the picture was replaced, for he did
not know of Davaris’ strange appearance
that afternoon. Neither did he think it
:best i0 tell Miss Montague it was quite
likely that the Greek had brought it back.
'Lawrence came into the room and sat
down near Gladys. There was a light in
her brown eyes that captivated him;
there was a heightened color in her face
that he could not account. for. He did not
know that Davaris had left her a half
hour before. He did not know that he had
played to her on the violin. He had not
heard the wild words the Greek had ut-
tered before he left.
“I love you so much, but I ‘can DGVer
(marry you,” the Greek had said. And to
all this Miss Montague had answered not
aword. She had listened in wonder to
the Greek’s passionate utterances until
he had dashed out of the room and left
her. She was quite ata loss to account
for his strange actions; she felt that she
did not know whether she loved him or
not. There was a fascination about him
though, and his mysterious ways puta
glamour of romance over him.
And now when Lawrence came in she
was not quite herself; she still heard the
notes of a violin, the tones of an impas-
sioned voice.
“Why have we been so awfully formal,”
she heard Lawrence say. “I have known
you for so long; and at Bar Harbor you
always let me call you Gladys—Gladys;
it’s such a sweet'name.” .
She laughed merrily. She looked up
into Lawrence’s face with archness. Her
mood had changed quickly. “Why, Ned,
how very droll you are to-night l" The
“Ned” had slipped out before she could
prevent it, and she was on the point of
. correcting herself. Then she saw that he
did not notice it, and so she went on:
“Fancy you speaking to me across the
dinner table and Calling me ‘Gladys !’
What would people think?"
“They would think we had known one
another ever since we were children; they
would think—” he said eagerly, but she
interrupted him. .
. “That would be very true, but you
should call me what you like—you know
as well as I what is good form— what is
conventional I" .
“I wish," said Lawrence, “you wouldn't
always be talking about what is conven-
ventional. I don't care a rap about con-
1ventionality. It is stupid—this not al-
lowing people todo what their feelings
prompt the ' one is hampered, checked,
held back! 0 wonder all the men are
more tailors dummies, whose chief aim in
life is to talk nonsence to pretty women,
who appear to like'it, but who are really
laughing-in their sleeve; conventionality
makes men foolish or. cynical, that'ls all I"
“Really, aren't you going a little too
jar. -“Don't you think there must be a,
limit-to everytbldg? ‘If it were not for
conveniionali‘ty what would society oer.
Don’t you think the polish of convention-
ality is necessary to prevent jangling and
discord? 'A good deal. is hidden by the
surfacd'pblish of society. Suppose we all
showed our likes and dislikes out plainly
every time we had a chance; think what
a disagreeable state of affairs that would
create!”
“What I mean is this: I don’t think
frankness is used enough," said Lawrence.
“Suppose I meet a man I heartily dislike.
I know aboutfhim; I know he is a. rascal!
I find him in the society of a group of my
friends: and one of them introduces me to
him. _ He may have good manners, and
may be very agreeable and fascinating,
but, he is, well—a little oi'f color. Conven-
tionality demands that I should bow cor-
dially and mutter a few sweet libs; my
common sense tells me to decline to have
anything to do with him. I!" I refuse to
meet him, it would make a scene which so-
ciety forbids; ifl talk to him, and have
anything to do with him I am acting a
lie? Of course I cannot make his true
character known; conventionality calls
that slander! So all I can do is to tolerate
him until he departs!”
“I think that this is all that is'expected
of one,” said Miss Montague. “Tact goes
hand in hand with conventionality, and
if they are rightly used you will admit,
yourself. that the combination is better
than brutal frankness. Suppose I am in-
troduced to a man at a dance, and I find
him extremely stupid and commonplace;
I don’t tell him so! I dance with him, per-
haps, but I can contrive to get him out of
the way without wounding :his feelings.’,
“Tact does that," said Lawrence, and
then he relapsed into uneasy silence. He
looked at -the,toes of his boot and clasped
his hand nervously. Miss Montague was
too much perturbed to notice him; she
had not forgotten what had happened be-
fore Lawrence had come in—how Davaris
was playing to her, how he stopped
abruptly, how he looked at the doorway
with such a peculiar glance, howhe let the
violin fall to the floor, and how he took
his departure after those few words.
There was a peculiar feeling in her head;
the ringing of Davaris’s wild music was
still in her ears. She longed to get away
alone and think about —— what? She
didn‘t know. Everything seemed to be in
confusion; her brain was in a. whirl. But
nothing had occurred to excite her. Was
she not over-sensitive? Surely the very
clever playing of a young violinist should
not have such an effect on her; of course
she was susceptible to music in a certain
degree, but there was nothing in it to
make her so appiehensivc, so nervous, so
overwrought. She had niadea brave ef-
fort to talk lightly with Lawrence, but
she was afraid every moment that he
would notice her preoccupation. She
could still hear the soft tones—Gladys,
Gladys !—
“Er—I beg y at pardon?"—this to Law-
rence. ' g
“I didn’t say anything,”laughed Law-
rence. “1 wish I knew what you were
thinking about just then,” he added with
boldness, after a pause.
“ That’s very frank, to say the least,"
she said, trying to arouse herself from
her reverie. "‘ You are practicing what
you preach! I don’t mind telling you,
though. I was thinking about—about—
really , l have fox'lgolten ! ” Miss Montague
rt se fionl her chair a. little wearily. “I
thl..k I must go up stairs now—”
Lamence had risen at the same time,
nd stood before her. In some way both of
her hands Were in his; her eyes were on a
I? -
.7\~§~ \I ‘—
Q
In some may both of her hands were in his.
level with his. “Not yet!” he was saying,
“Not until I have told you—I have fought
and fought, but I cannot stand it any
longer. I have loved you, Gladys,‘ ever
since that summer at Bar Harbor; I have
kept that look of hair I stole from you
ever since that day we last went boating
together. I had hoped to keep my love
for you a secret; I did not know. but I was
mistaken; I thought it might be a mere
passing fancy; but it has grown and
grown. Every day I have been here with
you under the same roof.every day I have
thoughtlessly amused myself—played ten-
nis, danced, drove—I have lived in a sort
of a dream; I found myself under the spell
of your beauty. When you were cold to
me the Sun did not shine for me; when
you allowed me to talk to you I was more
than happy! I know there must be an
awakening; I know it is presumptlous for
me to think you could ever care for such
a poor sort of a fellow as I; but, Gladys,
there is not a man in this world who loves
you better, or truer, or more than 1!”
She struggled to withdraw her hands;
her face became very pale; she looked
troubled.
“Not to-night!” she exclaimed. “Not to-
night,” was all she said.
“But why not to—night as well as any
other time? I know I am awfully abrupt
and clumsy, but I want you to look up at
me; I want you to tell me if you don’t
think you could learn to ——-— ”
“No, no! ‘ Why do you trouble- me?
Can’t you see that I have enough to think
about already!” It was like the cry of a
child in pain.
“I don’t understand you, Gladys, and I
do not want to have the least misunder—
standing about this. Does it trouble you?
I am so very sorry." ~
“Oh—Mr. Lawrence, you are .so very
stupid! Don’t you know I like you very
much, but I can’t—now—oh, dear, I don’t
know what I mean to say—I—"
Miss Montague seemed to have lost her
self-possession completely. She who had
been so calm, so distant, was new reduced
to a few incoherent sentences. She who
always held her head up so proudly Was
now looking; at the floor meekly. She
now stopped and stammerea and unauy
broke off abruptly. '
If Ned Lawrence had been in possession
of all his. faculties, he would have with-
drawn with a few quiet words, and ended
the interview; he would have waited for
a more favorable time to press his suit;
he would have seen that Gladys was per-
plexed and evidently striving to get him
away without wounding his feelings-for
the time being. But he was, on the con-
trary, very impulsive and ardent, and
when he .saw her hesitating, he jumped to
the conclusion that it was mere coyness
and she was holding off so that he could
not say he won her without a struggle.
So very unfortunate for him. he stepped
forward and attempted to kiss her. This
aroused her.
"Why are you troubled?" betasked.
“Tell me about it.” '
She moved back a few steps away from
him. “Excuse me, Mr. Lawrence, I think
I am fully able to manage my affairs With-
out your assistance.”
The coldness of her tone convinced
Lawrence that he had made amistake.
“I hope you don’t think me over-bold,
over-inquisitive,” he said anxiously. “It
troubles me to see you so nervous; I
really do not understand it. If there is
anything that I can do—”
“There is nothing you. can do," she
broke. .
Lawrence began to grow a little angry
and piqued. She was rapidly becoming
her self. She held her head erect. .
“I don’t understand you,” he said.
“It is not necessary that you should.”
"Do you mean to reject me altogether?"
be asked desperately, thrusting his hands
deep into his trousers' pockets. .
“I don’t know—I can’t say—” she said
slowly.
“But there isn’t anyone else?” he asked
eagerly, being encouraged by her hesita-
tion.
“Really, I don’t think I am obliged to
answer that question; you have no right
to ask it?" She was looking at the violin
on the floor, where it had laid since Dav-
aris dropped it. Lawrence eyes followed
her glance, and a great light broke over
him.-
“It’s that infernal Greek !” he muttered,
but not low enough to prevent her hearing.
“Were you speaking to me?” she asked.
Lawrence did not answer. He under,-
stood it all; she was in love with Davaris,
but she did not dare to tell it to him. For
an instant he stood there with bowed
head; then he looked up bravely.
“I see that I have made a mistake to-
night,” he said, speaking rapidly and in a
low tone. "I must beg your pardon for
speaking disrespectfully of one of your
friends I” He could not help putting a
slight emphasis on the last word. “But I
do not see thatI have said anything to
make you very angry. I am not conscious
of overstepping the laws of good taste
and conventionality. If I have done so I
hope you wLII pardon me. Perhaps my
love for you has. blinded my judgment.
I see that my presence here is painful to
you. I go to-night. I shall always re-
member the pleasant hours I have spent
under this roof, but I shall try to forget
this evening. Good-uight—aud good-
bye!”
Lawrence bowed formally. stopped a
moment by the door-way. and then was
gone. Miss Montague stood motionless
until she could not hear his footsteps in
the hall-way, and than sank back into her
chair with something that sounded very
much like a sigh.
Very luckily Lawrence succeeded in
iinding Mrs. Ilamlyu in the drawing—
room.
“You are just the person I wanted to
see,” he said. “It is the worst luck—I shall
have to go away to-nigiit. I have had
such a jolly time here, Mrs. I-Iamlyn,
that it quite breaks my heart. I am afraid
you will think it awfully rude of me, to
inn off this way, but the fact is I luv:
inst received a telegram from a man in
New York who must see me early'to-mor-
me: on business-very important, I as-
sure you !——"
"Oh, that horrid business I" put in Mrs.
ifamlyn.
"it makes me disgusted. But now if
you don’t mind, perhaps you will let me
have a trap to drive'to the station, and I
will throw a few things together to take
with me, and I think Thurston will pack
my trunk for me and send it on——”
“Pack your trunk!” exclaimed Mrs.
Hamlyn. “What do you mean? I will let
you go away for a. few deys, but pack
your trunk—positively absurd! It's bad
enough to have you running off in this
wild fashion, but you will have to come
back!"
“Hanged if I do!" thought the despond-
ent Lawrence.
So amid the most profuse apologies and
protestations, and hurried goo d-byes
Lawrence departed.
When he got into the carriage, and
drove away into the cool night, his brain
was in awhirl. It seemed like a dream;
scarcely an hour ago he was talking with
Gladys Montague; now he was leaving
her as fast as he could, vowing never to
came back. Even then, a thought in-
“ truded itself upon his mind that he was
acting foolislily—~even cowardly. He
fancied he saw a peculiar smile on Thurs-
tou’s face when he said good-bye at
the hall-door. He longed to tell him what
had happened but there were so many
people about he couldn’t. He even had
not told him about the trunk—but he
could write that. Wouldn’t it haVe been
better to have stayed and fought it out!
No; the thought of seeing Gladys Mon-
tague again after their conversation was
too much‘ for him. =
And so he drove away. In the distance,
the barking of a' dog could be heard;
along the road the rumble of the carriage'
wheels sounded unusually loud ;about him,
clouds olscured the sky; to the west they
were in dull, gray masses, and towards the
I'east, light, fleecy, white; the moon was
hidden; the wind blew softly against his
hot checks as the horse sped on. Did he
love her after all? ' He thought of their
interview; he thought of the lock of hair.
He tore away at the buttons of his coat.
and took something dark from an inside
pocket, and looked at it. He.felt tempted,
for a. moment to kiss it, but then withsn
expression of contempt at his weakness
he threw what he held in his hand away.
It flew back with the wind, and he leaned
back in the carriage wearily. He arrived
attbe station just in time to catch the
late oxpreissmnd before .he could think
calmly and intelligently ,on what he, had
who had never been at a loss for words. I done, kg was won. on, hlsway toNew' York.
[To be Continued]
:great public undertaking,
nus WAS NOT A GHOST.
A Paircof Medical Grave Robbers Go‘
a Big Scare.
Medical students are not ghoulsT
but corpses come a little high, and co-
casionally-an innocent body snatch-
ing is perpetrated. At least the stu.
dents themselves are sponsors for-the
following legend: Two budding saw-
bones got wind, each unbeknown to
the other, that a pauper was to be
buried on a certain night in a little
graveyard a few miles distant from
the college. Each was willing to save
himself the “ stiff” price of the regu—
lation cadaver, and so each hunted up
a. chum and repaired in buggies to the
spot at dead of night. When the tar-
dier pair arrived on the scene the oth-
er couple had already dug up the
freshly “ defunct,” and by the .moon~
light could be seen driving hurriedly.
away, with the body sitting bolt up-
right between them on the seat. The
second duo pursued in the shadow.
Soon after the .elated. victorious
chums stopped at a little . inn
and went inside for a drink as the
night was a trifle frosty. Seizing
the golden opportunity, one of the
disappointed students leaped from his
buggy and handed over the coveted
corpse to his comrade. He then
crawled into the vacant buggy and
took the part of the kidnapped body
in true dramatic style. By and by
the other two emerged, jumped back
on the seat and drove off. The night
was frosty, as related, and soon the
one driving grumblingly declared,
“ My hands are deuced cold.” “Let
me drive, then!” exclaimed the ghost.
The startled students each grasped a.
hand of the cadaver. “This hand is
warm,” ejaculated one. “So is this!”
was the frightened echo from the
other side. “ And no wonder,” came
in hollow accents from the dead. “ If
you had been in hell as long as I have
your hands would be warm, too.” The
students recovered from their tem-
porary paralysis. in time to tumble
precipitately from the buggy, and the
joker had it all to himself for the rest
of the journey—Philadelphia Record.
Hearing 9. Fiy’s Footsteps,
“These scientific chaps area queer
lot,” said a hotel clerk. “They are
all the while trying to'see things
whose very existence is entirely un-
known to ordinary mortals, and lis-
tening to sounds so minute and deli-
cate as to defy and completely put to
shame the keencst-eared Indian scout
hero that ever delighted the hearts of
the readers ofdime-novel literature.
“ An English chemist, who was here
the other day exhibited a little micro-
phone he had made which would ren-
der audible the footsteps of a fly. It
was only a small affair, and consisted
of a box with a sheet of thin straw
paper stretched over the upper side.
By means of a little electrical
device, consisting of two carbon
disks, a carbon pencil, and a
weak battery, the sheet of paper
over the top of the box was
caused to produce vibrations when
a fly walked over it strong enough
to re-act energetically on an ordi-
nary telephone transmitter when
held close to the latter.”——Wash-
ington Post.
A Providential Dispensation.
A curious story comes from Wengh-
slang. The town suffers from inun-
dations of the Yellow River, and two
years ago amovement was started by
the local magistrate to build a break-
water. The chief difficulty lay in,the
want of sufficiently large stones. S’ud-
denly, howevergto the astonishment
of the community, a heavy storm of
'wind and rain deluged the country,
and brought down an endl‘css quanti-
ty of huge stones exactly suited to
the purpose. The people naturally
regarded the incident use direct man-
ifestation" of Divine power in aid of a
and the
governor of the district cites a fact
which conclusively proves the super-
natural origin of the event. One of
the stones, he says, which was as
large as a house, was inscribed with
seal characters, two of which, mean-
ing “ work” and “stone ” respec-
tively, he was able to decipher.-Lon-
don Graphic.
A Remarkable Canal.
The most remarkable canal in the
world is the one between Worseley
and St. Helen’s, in the north of Eng-
land. It is sixteen miles long, and
underground from end to end. In
Lancashire the coal mines are very
extensive, half the country being un-
dermined. Many years ago the mana-
gers of the Duke of Bridgewater’s
estates thought they could save money
by exporting the coal underground
instead of on the surfaCe; therefore,
the canal was constructed and the
mines connected and drained at the
same time. Ordinary canal boats are
used, the power being furnished by
men. The tunnel arch over the canal
is provided with cross pieces, and the
men who do the work of propulsion
lie on their backs on the load of- coal
and push with their feet against the
crossbars of the roof.
Tell Your Grandnmther to Suck Eggs.
The Christian Union is quoted as
authority for the following incident:
When Albert Victor (otherwise
“ Prince Eddie,” or “Collar and
Cuffs”) was at Cambridge he found a
fellow student endeavoring to light a
refractory pipe. “What’s the mat-
ter?” said the prince. “ Let me light
it for you.” "Oh, you teach your
grandmother to suck eggs, will you?”
was the drawling reply, followed by a
much quicker, “By Jove! you know,
I beg your pardon! I had forgotten
who your grandmother was. ”
What’s In a. Name.
J ones—.What are you going to call
the, new blood and nerve medicine
which you have discovered?
. Brown—The Almighty. Dollar.
Jones—Why do you choose that
name in preference to others? '
Brown—So that everybody will be
after it. I want' a good rum—Phah '
maceutical Era.
"Advertise in Wanna Gums. '
' 27 Railroad Place,
“Down, ‘l'liey Go.”
‘ YOU CAN GET
Anything in. tlie Shoe
Line Cheap for Cash,
skT-’
IAIIVISKEILIIGII’S,
altain Siieti, Norwalk.
SILVERWARE GIVEN AWAY
r ALL CASH PURCHASERS.
_ DE CONVINCEI}.
Yv'e Would like to convince everyone that
our average PRICES ARE {WAY DOWN.
Our goods are marked in plain figures and
are as low as they can be found in any store
in town. Anything in
CRUCKERY, GLASS, TIN-WARE,
——AND—-
House Furnishing Goods.
H. H. WILLIAMS,
'15 WALL STREET.
PLYMOUTH ROCK ICE.
TORES AND FAMILIES SUPPLIED at
k Lownsr Runs tf'..5
FRESH CANDIES
EVERY iDAY,
~AT—
WERNER’S
Confeciunen all LllllCIlBllClll,
6 MAIN STREET.
CATERING date In short notice.
THE luuus HERRMAN 00.,
BOTTLERS or
IIII, PflI‘IflI‘KlIIIIWflIIKIIB BEEP
AND THE
CELEBRATED JACOB HOFFMAN
MOHOPLE LAGEB
ALSO AGENCY FOR
" BALLANTINE 8: sons
ALES AND PORTERS.
FLASKS AND CORKS FOR SALE.
5 WATER STREET, NORWALK.
Orders Left at H. SCHENK,
South Norwalk.
283-61110
E. GUSOWSKI,
Merchant ~ Tailor.
I have just received the. Finest and
and Largest Selection of
FALL AND WIN TER SUITINGS,
TBUUSE‘BINGS AND VESTINGS.
Ever shown in Norwalk. which I will 'make
up in style and price to suit everybody.
s. eusowsm,
LCl‘llCl‘ Wall. and Water Sis. Hawaii
0. O’BRIEN,
WBSI SIIIII ’ IIIISIIIIII TIIIIIII'.
Having made arrangements with one of the
Largest Cloth Houses in New York to supply
the with all kinds of goods at a few .hours
notice and at the Lowest Prices. I have over
:liree hundred samples, which I Will make up
in the Latest Styles at about two-thirds the
usual prices charged. I guarantee to give sat-
sfaction as I do my own cutting and fitting
and have no guess work. Ikeep the Latest
Fashion Plates and draft accordingly.
impairing, Binding, Cleaning, Pressing,
Etc., done at about half-price. Give me a
call and be convinced. 15164
O. O’BRIEN
31 BELDEN AVENUE.
NATHANIEL K. FERRIS.
Organist of the Norwalk M. E. Church,
TEACHER OF
I 9 I I
Piano, Organ, Harmony and Singing.
Classes formed to learn the art of singing at
si ht taught at reasonable rates. _ _
dult beginners for vocal instruction wlll
save their voice, also time and money by being
roperly started with the OLD ITALIAN
EIETHOD, the only. true one.
Residence. 30 \Vest Avenue.
H. E. BATES. _ 's. F. BRIDGES
BATES & BRIDGES,
Succassons 'ro -
BRIDGES St BATES, "
VETERINARY it? SURGEON.
OFFICE at DANN'S STABLE. RIVER STREET.
RESIDENCE, 7 Isucs S'rnnm.
Telephone, 56-3. 1)"!
Frank H..Baxter,
, PHARMACIST.
ff 8 Main Street. South Nor-walk
' G. J“. Ferries,
PARCEL AND memes. amass.
1; Be edict’s. Nor-walk. and Hoyt’s‘ Drug
Sgggg'Soutlili-Norwalk. 8mi47.
Horse Shouting.
Tilt LateSt Styles of I
Menu - Cards.
orders III Dance,
Ball Tickets, ‘
RECEPTION CARDS,
WINE - LISTS,
Show Hangers,
Wedding .
Invitations,
Business Cards.
5‘
' Visiting Cards
-——AT THE-—
flail) Gaze
Church and.
Society Will
A ‘SPECA‘LTY
For Sale Cheap.
- l 5 Press. 11x16 inches; one Prouty
P333.P€§§$' inches; one Peerless Cutter-.22
inches- one hun fonts of :Iob :» one
large he Cabinet: three Double L, tends; .
d r ' ed has tnken-theshopintho one 1st 0 map _' ‘ Stone besides Sticks.
Tgfififois'ifinubys on Cross‘stroot,‘tnd Rules, on. L0 and d-co , - tare.
Is prepared to do Horse '
a Gi ”811091118111, 1 81
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first. Elan-particulars: 1‘ Pic? ' ' " y . -
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Norwalk Chronicler