WEEKLY - NORWALK - GAZETTE.
3 cts.
A N OVELETTE.
By William Earle Baldwin.
{Copyright 1891, by Globe Press Association.)
CHAPTER X.
{Synopsis of Preceding Chapters.)
Langford finds Philip Davaris a Greek violin~
ist, 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 go
to Lcnox later. Davaris’s strange agitation at
meeting a society girl, Gladys Montague.
Two society men. Ned Lawrence and Thurs-
1on meet Davaris at the country house of Mrs.
Hamlyn at Lenox. Miss Montague shows
Davaris a picture. “That man your father?"
he says and is strangely excited. After Davaris's
' departure the picture is gone.
Thurston and aneimeyer 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." ' -
Thurston and Havermeyer wake in the morn-
ing and find the old hermit dead. Seth mails a
packet given him by Westerly addressed:
‘ Philip Davaris, Paris. , .
Davaris recognizes a picture or 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.
Ned Lawrence hears Davaris playing,
sees a strange woman in the hall with a
savage look on her face watching Dav-
aris. Hears conversation later, outside, be
tween the woman and Davaris. "Helene” is
urging Davaris to do something and he hangs
back. What does it all mean?
Helene is Davaris's sister who has been
masquerading as Gladys maid. The story
that came out; Davaris' father killed in Greece.
Suspicion turned on Col. Montague who fled to
- Rome. where he died of fever. Davaris swears
"to avenge his father's death. even under the
'third generation. No relatives of Col. Montague
found until Helene hears in Paris of adaugh-
for. She telegraphs Davaris who is now in
New York to come to help follow clues. He
:goes and arouses Langford s suspicion by his
mysterious actions. Davaris returns and finds
Gladys, and learns all about her. Helene
comes to goad him on. His terrible position.
Langford was pretty well done up by
the strange news he had just heard and
for almost five minutes the two sat to-
gether without speaking. Langford was
conscious of the pressure of Davaris’s
hand and finally he managed to say:
“But I don’t understand. I don't un-
derstand at all.”
Langford wondered if his friend had
suddenly gone insane. He had lived with
him for many years. and Davaris had done
some awfully odd things, but he had done
nothing to warrant LL16 truth of such a
wild, improbable story. Here in this
nineteenth century do men swear to kill
the murderer of their father, and if they
are too late, allow the sins of the father to
be visited on the innocent children? No,
indeed. It would not be vengeance, it
would be crime. ' .
Then Langford thought of the great
band of Mafia, who condemn a man to
death on the slightest pretext. He re-
membered that most of them were
Italians, and if by chance any Greeks
were among them they Would be sure to
be of the lowest class. Then Davaris be-
gan again, and word by word the entire
wretched story came out. He even told of
the occurrences that evening at the
.Hamlyn’s, told of the promise he had
made his sister.
“But you don’t mean to carry it out?"
Langford demanded in astonishment.
“Youdou’t menu to say that you would
be such an unmitigated fool as that?"
“Langfcrd, old fellow,” began Davarls,
and iho words sounded like mockery.
“ You elm-’l, understand me as I wish you
would. You don’t understand me at all.
I am :1 Greek. i made a promise with my
father’s . hand in mine, under Grecian
skies. Do you suppose. I thought my
promise would dog me to practical Amer-
ica, and keep me from the woman I love?
Do you suppose I thought of that? Why,
do you suppose I love this woman now
that I know she is the daughter of Col.
Montague?” Davarls remembered the in-
terview he had had with his sister and the
old ilre again burned in his heart, and he'
got up and paced the room. There was a
look in his eyes that frightened Langford
and he wondered what had come over his
:i'riend. Was he going daft over the girl?
Hadhe taken this hallucination into his
head, perhaps at the rejection of his suit?
Lsngford attempted to quiet him, but
only made him talk the louder. He at—
tempted to show him that his story while
it might be true~or at least partly true.
yet was absurd oh the face of it. That if
while he was a small boy in Greece he
might have made a youthful promise to
have the slayer of his father brought to
justice, yet it was stretching a point to
say that Gladys Montague was in any
way connected with it. The more Lang-
ford talked, however, the more unreason-
able tlic Greek became and a host of
thought came into Langford’s mind of
the strange actions of his friend in going
away early that summer.
Davarls’s anxiety to meet Gladys; his
agitation when he first heard her name
mentioned; his sadness of the past few
days: everything became clear to him
and he began to think that there was
method in the Greck’s madness. Lang-
ford tried to make Davaris say that he
. would give it all up, but without success.
.He polntcd'out the absurdity of'it all.
“Ifyou were a Greek, you'd know,” was
all Davaris said.
Then Lao gford realized it all the more
“fully. it was something more serious
than he thought. If he were a Greek, he’d
know. The race was passionate, impul-
sice, throbbing with fire and energy.
What seems wrong to an American may
be right to a Greek.
Far into that miserable night the two
men sat there and wrestled with the prob-
lem.
“What are you going to do?” asked
Langford at length. »
“What can Ido, but one thing?”
“You surely do not mean —” Langford
paused suggestively.
“I mean just that.”
“But good Heavens, man, do you know
know what you are saying? Don’t you see
if you attempt anything so wild, so in-
sure, that I can stop you.”
“You might stop me, but you cannot
{stop Helene. You dOn’t know that woman.
If she had only stayed away I might have
gotten out of it somehow. But what am I
saying, I have no desire to get out of it.
My duty is very plain to me and I must
go on to the end.”
Davaris held his head in his hands, his
elbows on his knees. ' He stirred slightly
andaletter'fell from his ocket. Lang-
rlord picked it up. Then avaris seemed
19.8mm eithislethemy. end-109m with
.. “d; rant}, anu‘ a'nupolcse expruwwu
with all that trouble in his eyes.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I don’t know; a. letter.”
“Give it to me.” .Langford handed it
to him. He drew near a gas ' jet and
opened it mechanically. He cast his eyes
down the first page. .
Langford watched him narrowly. First
he looked indifferent, then alarmed, then
amazed, then glad.
“What is it?” asked Langford.
But Davaris did not answer. He read
on and on with strained eyes. He turned
page after page of paper and at last
looked at Langford.
“Old fellow,” he said gravely, and his
eye looked quiet now; "It's settled at last.
It’s a confession from Westerly. It’s a.
confession from the man who died off here
in the mountains; it settles that Col. Mon-
tague did not kill my father.”
Doubts would have arisen in Langford’s
mind if he had not been acquainted with
Thurston’s story of how a man had been
found in the wood who wanted to see Dav-
aris. The man had very likely wished to
tell him all by Word of month.
As it was, the letter posted by Seth
Dowe had reached its destination.
Langford watched him narrowly.
And then Laugford read the record of
Westerly’s life after shooting Davarlss
father. How he had snatched the re-
volver from Col. Montague's pocket; how
he had tired ' the. shot; how he had cast
suspicion on Col. Montague; how he had
tried to find him that he might suffer.
Then Westerly wrote of the pathetic trials
of his life. low he had lost track of Da-
varls; how he had wandered; how he had
come to America; how he had purchased
this old farm house to live in and to die in.
When Langford iinisaed reading his
eyes were moist, and he handed the paper
back to Davarls without a word.
Tic next. morning Da‘val‘ls was to call
on (life Montague. Langi‘ord advised
him to er 0 her at once. Make it certain
that shv loved him, and then by degrees
let he." k: the story as he thought best.
Perhaps ii Would be. better to keep it from
her always.
But unfortunately Davaris was too late.
Ugly stories had reached Gladys Monta<
gue’s ears about the maid; about Davarls,
and she received him coldly. He saw that
something was wrong, and decided to
make a clean breast of it, throwing him-
self on her mercv. Perhaps the love he
fancied she had for him would help him.
out. B 121: he had not proceeded far, when
Gladys Montague left the room——she was
called away by Mrs. Hamlyn, who pres-
ently came in.
Mrs. Hamlyn was very straight forward
about the matter. She boldly taxed Dav-
aris with knowing Helene. she told ,him
the stories she had learned from Haver-
meyer, who had overheard a conversation
Davaris had had with his sister the first
night she was there.
Davaris denied nothing. He listened to
it all, and then asked to see Gladys again.
He had a wild thought of one last effort; -
one last appeal to her; one last declara-
tion of his love. Mrs. Halniyn said he
might see her. Word was sent up stairs.
It took onlya moment. Gladys did not
come. She hoped Mr. Davarls would be
good enough to excuse her.
It was then that Davaris knew she was
lost to him forever. That terrible story,
and worst of all,Helon had destroyed
what little confidence she had once placed
in him, It was a battle between fascina-
tion—not love— on the one hand, and
doubt on the other. The latter won.
Davaris could not be trusted. He was a.
man with foreign blood in his veins; a‘
fanatic, a believer in strange doctrines as
to right and wrong.
It was then that Davaris went away.
He was seen on the street for a half hour
with his sister, he paid a hurried visit to
one or two of his particular friends who
still stuck by him, he sadly said farewell
to Langford, and then hurried off. His
sister acccompanied him. They went to-
New York.
This is the story that Langford knows;
this is why he wanders about the tennis
courts looking so completely overcome.
It is a hard blow to him. He cannot
realize what has happened. It- cannot be
true that Davaris, his college friend, his
best loved companion is a mere vulgar
adventurer; a man who has a sister who
would masquerade as a ladies’ maid.
This is the story that floats about. This
is the story to which the myterlous ladies’
maid gives a spicy flavor. This the story
that is of more interest than the tennis.
Lawrence hears it on all sides. It makes
him take heart again. Now that he re-
calls to mind the way Gladys acted the
night he went away, it all seems clear to
him. She was infatuated, fascinated by
the Greek. He was a "new" man; a man
that society sees but seldom. She thought
for a moment, perhaps, that she loved
him, but he was so strange.
And after the stormy time she had with
Davaris will she not long for a. man Whom
she can trust? Will she not look upon a.
man who has known her all her life?
It is a very significant fact, however,
that he sits out three dances in succession
with her this evening at the club assem-
bly.
“Whith I call awfully bad form,” com-
ments little Havermeyer; “unleth they
are weally engaged.”
CHAPTER XI.
The sky in the west was filled with the
glorious light of the afterglow. About
the horizon the intense yellow was as mol-
ten gold, so clear and burnished it ap-
peared; the outlines of the mountains
against it were sharply drawn.
By the window of a large building in a
city a man stood with folded arms and
watched the gold turn to gray; saw the
darkness gather; saw the mountains
fade into an unrecognizable dark
mass. The streets below were filled
with a hurrying mass of people. The
rumble of the carts and the jangling of
the bells on the street cars came up in a
confused murmur. Lights appeared in
the houses and buildings which stretched
to the fields and hills beyond the city.
The clock in a neighboring belfry had
struck eight long before. Suddenly there
came a knocking at the door of the reom,
and the man at the window answered
“Yes."
“They are waiting Mr you, Signor,”
came a; voice. _
“Very well; 1am coming." ~
, The man took up a. violin from the
.table. opened the decreed. stepped ont'
advent off—Signor Philippe.
into a‘ dime cornuor. also"; was a. unr,
agreeable smell of gas in the air, and it
was with some difficulty ih at he followed
the boy down several flights of dingy
stairs. . .
At the last landing a. brisk little man
met him and grasped his hand, wringing
it enthusiastically.
"It's a full house. Davaris—__” ,
“Not that name,” interrupted the man
with the violin. “Remember I am Signor
Philippo, now,” he said sadly.
“Ah, yes, beg your pardon, old man !—-
Signor Philippo!—-of course. ButIquite
envy you! The stage is waiting. The
soprano has sung her ballad about the
blue eyes and gomen hair; the tenor nus
given them a. dose of Italian: the barl-
tone has bawled about ‘tally-ho! tally-ho!’
and now they are waiting for the first ap-
pearance of the violin virtuoso, Signor
Philippo!"
The little man conducted his companion
along the Wings, past several stage
hands, past innumerable paint-pots and
other properties of the scenic artists, and
finally he left him with an encouraging
squeeze of the hand at a side entrance.
In an instant he violinist was in the
glare of the foo ghts. He looked about
him and saw only a sea of faces, the wav-
ing fans, the fluttering programmes. It
was not a very large audience, but it was
all the opera house could hold; it repre-
sented the culture of the rapidly growing
vWestern city. '
There was a. faint attempt at applause;
a. weak clapping of bands, which was soon
hushed and died away with several desul-
tory sounds. Why should they applaud
this man? No one knew him; no one had
ever heard of him before. It was only by
accident he had been asked to play that
evening. The celebrated violinist who had
been engaged for the occasion had been
detained by a. railroad accident. So this
dark young man—Signor Philippe—stood
there, his violin in his hand, waiting for
the prelude of his accompanist to end.
The first instant his bow began to move
over the strings, the people began to
listen; he was a true musician. And a
party of four well dressed people in a
proscenium box leaned forward and looked
at the man anxiously. One of the men
especially seemed strangely excited at the
He turned
towards the pale. beautiful woman at his
side, and said in an agitated tone of
voice,—
“ Great Heavens, Connie, do you recog-
nize that man?”
She turned her blue eyes toward his,
and answered coolly:
“Why certainly, Teddy. He is that
crazy violinist who bothered us so much
last summer. How very odd he should
turn up here i"
The tall, fair man said nothing, but bit
his lips and turned away.
The other two people in the box were
moi iouless, however.
“Gladys, I fancy I have seen that man
before,” said one of them.
“Why, Ned l—It—iS~—Mr. Davaris !”
“Why, certainly; but there’s no use of
getting into such a confounded tear over
it! I say Langford,” he continued, turn-
ing to the man who had been addressed
as Teddy, “Extraordinary isn’t it?”
After that there was silence in the box;
no one felt like suylu;.r a word. They all
watched the stage with strained eyes.
But the violinist old not see them. His
eyes 10oke i do No as 1 his head moved
back and form as be played. ._lt was a
jolly gay, cart-less air, quivering, darting
here and here, as a humming bird dashes
from lie? or to flower; now moving,
through the air like a flash, now pausing
with fluttering wings, allliost motionless.
For an instant the assemblage was
hushed, the notes Were still trembling on
the air, ringing in the cars. Then came a
wild tumult of uppinlhe that seemed to
shake the very building. Old phlegmaiic
bankers throw aside their dignity and
pounded their hands together, and
stamped their feet on the floor; ladies
beat their fans to pieces hammering them
on the back of the seats; some enthusias-
tic- young men even wuistled loud and
deep. But after a single modest bow the
violinist stepped behind the scenes where
he was met by his friend.
“You did yourself proud, old follow! If
only your friends in New York knew of
this—if only some of them were in the
audience now, I.think—”
“Don’t say anything about that, please,
Compton! When all my friends deserted
me, you were the only one who stuck by
me. It is due to your influence that I
play here to-nlght. I am content that you
witness alone what I suppose is a
triumph.” ’
“I should say so—a triumph, indeed!
You have made one! Davarls, you are a.
great violinist !”
And the audience evidently thought so
too, for they tolerated with impatience
the corpulent baritone, the little tenor,
and the shriekingsoprauo. When at last
Signor Philippe came out to play again,
he was met with a torrent of applause,
and it was some moments before he could
begin to play. This time they would not
let him go; he played again and again,
and finally left the stage almost ex-
hausiel. ‘
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Looking at him with such a. sadness in 'her
face.
When he came out for the last time he
was very pale. He placed his violin in
position, and hesitated a moment before
he began to play. It was the same old
thing—Vieuxtemps’ fantasie.
It made him sick at heart to play it, but
he was compelled to. As he played the
opening bars, a. picture rose up in his
mind that almost made him falter. He
could see the beautifiil dark face of the
woman in the chair before him; he could
plainly see .the diml‘y lighted room;vhe
could see the. sympathetic eyes looking
into his—what was that? He was looking
into those bent lambent eyes now. His
gaze had‘wandered'for almost the first
time about the theatre, and in a box. he
saw her plainly. She was dressed in sil-
ver-gray, and was leaning forward, look-
ing at him with such a. sadness in her
face. For n instant. he closed his eyes.
thinking that he might be mistaken. But
when he looked again, he saw that it was
no mistake. The woman he loved was
hearing him play again, she was looking
at him again—could it be that she wfi
loving him again? ' i 1
“Foruthat instant he lived over theta!
- no-gthis’ atte:poon."—Oe_po
“up ' "5.16"!“ ~9qu “sun.- vuv no..-“ uv
loved, for that instanthe remembered the,
terrible occurrence which had driven him
her, 'he remembered why it was he lost
her, he remembered that she had married
another man, Perhaps the man was with
her now; he was probably gloating over
his failure.“ .
He recovered himself and grasped the
violin justas it was about to fall iotho
floor. The accompanist looked around in
amazement; the audience gazed at that
dark man and those in the front seats
wondered why he was looking so fixedly
at a. 'woman in one of the boxes. lt all
took place in asecond, and then he was
ready to play again. The accompanist
struck the right chord, but there was no
response from the violinist. Again he
looked around, and saw that the man's
eyes were half closed, he saw a. dreamy
look on his face, and then he heard him
begin to play. And this time his music
was wilder and sadder than before; the
accompanist had never heard it before;
he did not attempt to follow him; he only
eat there helplessly and stared.
And he played and played and the peo-
ple in the box watched him intently; the
whole audience was spell-bound. His
former Work was cold and commonplace
compared to this. And as he swayed back
and forth in unison to the music, his black
hair in a tumbled mass on his forehead,
and his eyes half closed, the dark-haired
woman claspi it her hands nervously and
seemed trying to supress her'emotlon.
The opera house had never been the
scene of such a drama before; no one
knew what struggles were going on in the
hearts of tw0 persons. The music to one
of them waslike the cry of a drowning
man, who sees hope of rescue near, only
to loose it again.
In low sweet tones like the rippling or
the water "on the high sands, like the wind
blowing peacefully over the seas; then
with a vigor and intensity like the beat—
ing of the fierce waves on the shore; pas-
sionate, throbbing, pulsating, comes the
voice of the violin. The notes almost die
away and only the lingering memory
of the melody remains, which is followed
by a shrieking and crashing that is
savage in its contrast. Then in sweet
pathetic cadence, the violin speaks and
the long-drawn, trembling notes tell a
[To be Continued]
, «4+»... ---—
Choked to Death.
Morris Tuttle, the well-known crimi-
nal lawyer of Bridgeport, was found
dead in his bed Sunday morning.
He was taken ill during the night.
The glands of his throat became swollen
and he choked to death. He graduated
from Yale with high honors in 1863,
and had defended many noted crimi-
nals in this state, among them Jacob
Scheele, the N ew Canaan murderer,
recently hanged in Bridgeport.
One of the strange things connected
with the death of Mr. Tuttle isthe fact
that less than a year ago he drew a will
for Elam Nichols, disposing of proper-
ty worth $1,500,000. The will was con-
tested in court. The principal bene-
ficiary, George Nichols, [a son, dropped
dead after the controversy. The next
beneficiary was the testator’s house-
keeper. The latter was found dead .in
bed, and now the man who drew the
will has died a sudden death, and the
property reverts to the brother of Elam
Nichols, who fought the will in court.
Mr. Tuttle was fifty-two years of age,
and a nephew of the late Silas P. Tut-
tle of Cranberry Plains.
Are They the Same?
Captain Seeley, a well~known resi-
dent of the town of Stepney, was found
hanging in his barn a year' ago. As a
result of an investigation a chain of evi-
dence was forged around a farm-hand
named John Hahn, employed in the
neighborhood, sufficiently. strong to
convince the coroner’s jury that Cap-
tain Seeley had been murdered. A ver-
dict to that effect was finally rendered.
Hahn, however, disappeared. It is now
thought that the man recently sen-
tenced to death in Freehold, N. J.,may
be Hahn. From the published accounts
of the Freehold murder it appears that
the murde rer, known as Harriett, se-
cured employment on a farm on the out-
skirts of Freehold shortly after Hahn’s
disappearance from Stepney. He was
a German, and nobody in that vicinity
knew him. The accounts disclose the
fact that he came from a small village
in Germany, Where letters which Hahn
left in Stepney Show that his parents
live. The circumstances connected
with the Freehold case, too, are iden
tical with those under which Captain
Seeley met death. Detective Cronin,
of Bridgeport, and a resident of Step-
ney. who was well acquainted with
Hahn, will visit Freehold to-morrow to
see the condemned man. The publish-
ed reports have led the people of Step-
ney to feel positive that Hahn and Har-
riett are the some person.
..— .‘*_._._._.... __.
Reed’s Ruling Sustained.
The United States Supreme Court
Monday rendered decisions affirming
the constitutionality of the Dingley
Worsted act, the ‘McKinley tariff act.
and, incidentally, establishing the val-
idity of the rule in the last House of
- Representatives permiting the Speak-
cr, for the purpose of preserving a quo-
rum, to count members present but not
voting.
The decision says: “The constitu-
tion provides that a majority of each
house shall constitute a quorum to do
business. The capacity of the house
to transact business is created by the
mere presence and does not depend
upon the disposition or assent or action
of any single member or fraction of
the majority present. The constitu-
tion has prescribed no method of ascer-
taining the presence of a. majority, and
it is, therefore, clearly within the com-
petency of the House to prescribe any
method that slihll be reasonably cer-
tain to ascertain the fact. There was a.-
quorum present when the bill passed,
and the question is, whether the bi]:
received a. sufficient number of votes.
The general rule of all parliamentary.
bodies is that when a quorum is pres-
ent the act of a majority of the quorum
is the act of the body. In the United
States constitution there is no such
limitation as is found in certain state
constitutions that a. majority of all the
members elected shall be present and
be necessary to the passage of a bill,
and, therefore, the general law of such
bodies obtains. We find that, of the
quorum present a majority voted in'
favor of this bill. It, therefore, legally
passed the House and the law as found
in the office of the secretary is beyond
challenge."
r16 Needed to‘ Pray.
' “ Is yOur husband in?” ,
“No, he has gone to the - prayer
meeting this evening.”
“ To the prayer? meeting? In”: that
so'mething'unusu'al?” ' ‘ ' .
' “,Yes,‘but‘he'putdowna " t for
. 1911:.
l BIG S‘ENSATION.
Three Well-known Young: Men
Arrested for Handling Coun-
terfeit Money.
is it a Farce?
For some time past there has been
one of the Edison nickel-in-the-slot
musical phonographs at the saloon of
H. J. & G. S. Grumman on Main street,
and the DAILY GAZETTE some time ago
published an account of the number of
lead pieces the agent was gathering
from his machine. Tuesday morning the.
climax came in the shape of United
States Marshal Emory F. Strong, of
Bridgeport. and Constable Charles
Stage, of Stratford, with warrants from
the United States District Attorney for
the arrest of George S. Grumman,
George E. Allen and James L. Brund-.
age on the charge of handling counter-
feit money. Marshal Strong gave the
warrants to Chief DeForest and in less
than ten minutes he had the parties at
police headquarters where the Marshal
and Constable Stagg were in waiting.
The Marshal explained to them that it
would be necessary to take them to New
Haven where they would be required
to give bonds for their future appear-
ance. The bondsmen, Mr. A. A. Chi-
nery, J r., and William DeKlvn. were
quickly secured and the party took the
11.15.110rse-car for the train.
It is not known who made. the ridicu-
lous charge against the accused, but it
is reported that the agent of the phono-
graph, not having received sufficient
cash from the machine. is at the bot-
tom of the affair.
For some time past four detectives
have been mingling with the boys at
Grumman’s, and no doubt they were
sent here for the purpose of spotting
those lovers of music who were opera-
ting the phonograph with lead coins.
As the lead coins used in operating
the machine are nothing but blank
nieces oflead and have no design upon
them, it is hard to see how they can be
classed as counterfeit money, and it is
quite probable that the whole matter
will end in the dis'charge of the prison-
dled upon the State.
A representative of the DAILY G‘A-
ZETTE called upon Mr. George S. Grum-
man, of the firm of H. J. A: G. S.Grum-
men, Wednesday in relation to hisar-
rest Tuesday on the charge of passing-
counterfeit money. Mr. Grumman. in
the most emphatic manner, denied that
he ever made, passed. or knowingly
handled counterfiet coin; that he ever
deposited a counterfeit coin of any de-
scription in an Edison phonograph,
either in his place or anywhere else.
He says that while the charge is serious
it isridiculous as far as he is concerned.
He also says that, being innocent, he
has no fear as to the outcome-of the
suit, and requests that his friends, and
the 'public of Norwalk, .‘suspend their
judgment. at least until they hear the
evidence.
George S. Grumman, George E.
Allen and James L. Brundage, who
were arrested by United States Mar-
shal Strong 2Tuesday Ion the charge of
handling counterfeit money, as pub-
lished in the DAILY GAZETTE, were
taken before United States Commis-
sioner Wright in New Haven and held
under $1.200 bonds each for examina-
tion. \Villiam DeKlyn furnished bonds
for George Allen and James Brundage
and A. A. Chinery, J r., for George
Grumman. .
Grumman’s hearing is set down for
Saturday. March 5. Allen’s for March
12. and Brundage’s for March 14.
Mr. William DeKlyn, bondsman for
James L. Brundage, charged with
counterfeiting, went to Brigeport last
evening and notified United States
Marshal Strong that he desired to be
released from the bond given for the
appearance of Bruudage before the U.
S. Commissioner in New Haven on
Brundsge. _
Chief DeForestwas notified and Brun-
dage was this morning taken to police
headquarters to await the Marshal,who
arrived about noon. Under the pres-
ent condition of affairs Brundage will
have to furnish a new bond or go to
New Haven in custody of the Marshal.
LATER—Brundage failed to secure a
new bondsman and "he was taken to
New Haven on the 1.17 train.
A Handsome Display.
There is no branch of the dry goods
busmess where art and good taste are
so essential to success as in the selec-
tion of dress fabrics. 'We do‘not think
Shakespeare was exactly right when
he send: “To be well dressed is the
gift of fortune,” for nowadays one may
‘6 well dressed at a comparatively
small outlay. It was different in his
time. Then, nice fabrics were very
rare and costly; now they are within
reach of all. But to be well dressed
requlres art and great taste in greater
measure than money. Money will buy
the most expensive goods, but the
grades should also be correct in style
and color and what fashion has decreed
can be worn. To be well dressed is
the mm of every woman, be her means
large or small. It is very natural that
a. woman should give much thought
and study to the subject which con-
cerns her so deeply and that she should
devote ample time to the consideration
of what she will wear for each new sea-
son, where she’ will buy it and how
much she will pay for it. She will nat-
urally see what each store has to ofi'er
where she thinks the best styles of
goods are found. ,
The store which aims to do a large
busmess 1n dress fabrics -must catch
the sp1r1t of the times which is in de-
mand for the best products which the
genius and art of man can devise. Peo—
ple want goods which have merit, style
and quality to recommend them. The
day of trash and poor styles has de-
parted forever. The merchant who
catches this spirit in the air, who mas-
ters the situation, will secure the re-
turn that his study and forethought
merit. Messrs. Hall 8: Co. saw the de-
goods and have supplied it. Last sea.-
son they sent a special agent to Paris
to secure what-was needed. They,were
so successful 1n the business realized
that they have made a contract with
supply. them .cach season with thebulk
of their novelties, which now come in
single dresspatteras instead of .pieces,
thus enablm g p lady to be the possessor
of a style not in danger of - ever— becom-
ing common. This season just-open-
ing they show a large assertment of
dress goods .in all grades, and a. lar e
collection 'of, novelties for those "w ‘o,
ers and the expense of their arrest sack
March 14, and desired to surrender
and will at last part. with her money.
mom} in Bridgeport for choice dress .
the leading Paris dress goods house to '
JOHN EFLYNN
Sanitary Plumber,
STEAM and GASFITTER
JOBBING A SPEBIALTY.
Having taken the basement under the Lib-
rary. 108 Washmgton street, South Norwalk.
and fitted it for
.ALL lgINDs
PLUMBING.
I respectfully solicit ashore of public stron—
age. I refer to plumbing I have done or the
past seven years. in the employ of W. H. Meek-
or (it 90. All work Will have my personal sup.
erv_1sion._and W111 be prom tly executed and
satisfaction guaranteed. ive me a. trial. 1y
THE JULIUS HERHMAN to,
BOTTLERS OE
All, Pillfll‘lllllilillll Beer
AND THE
CELEBRATED JACOB HOFFMAN
MDHDFLE LASER
ALSO AGENCY FOR
ssmsmms 8: sons ‘
ALES AND PORTERS,
FLASKS AND CORKS FOR SALE.
5 WATER STREET, NORWALK.
Orders Left at H. SCHENK,
27 Railroad I'lace, South Norwalk.
283-61310
“ Downm‘l’hsy Cit?”
YOU CAN GET
Anything in the Shoe‘
the that in" Gash,
.. A ’1‘ ..
lllllTlSliEllllGT’Sa
3: Main Street, llmwalk.
SILVERWARE GIVEN AWAY
1‘ ALL CASH PURCHASE-RS.
o. O’BRIEN,
Will Sill} Gilliam Tflllfll‘.
Having made arrangements with oneZof the
Largest Cloth Houses in New York to supply
me with all kinds of goods at a few hours’
notice and at the Lowest Prices. I have over
three hundred samples. which I W111 make up
in the Latest Styles at about two-thirds the
final prices charged. I guarantee to give sat-
sfaction 3.51 do my own cutting and fitting
1nd have no guess work. I keep the Latest
Fashion Plates and draft accordingly.
depairing, Binding, Cleaning, Pressing,
Etc., done at about half-price. Give me a
call and be convinced. 1y164
O. O’BRIEN
31 BELDEN AVENUE.
' s. GUSGWSKI,
Merchant ~ Trailer.
I have just received the Finest and
and Largest Selection of
FALL AND WINTER SUITINGS,
TRUUSEERINGS AND VESTINGS.
Ever shown in Norwalk. which I will 'make
up in style and price to suit everybody.
s eusowssr,
Linc Will and Water Sis, liorwall
Organist of the Nor-walk M. E. Church,
. TEACHER 0F
Piano, Organ, Harmony and Singing.
'Classes formed to learn the art of singing at
Sight taught; at reasonable rates. _
Adult beginners for vocal instruction will
save their veice. also time and money by being
properly started With the OLD ITALIAN
IETHOD, the only true one.
Residence. 30 “Test Avenue.
H. E. BATES. F. S. BRIDGES
BATES & BRIDGES,
Successons To
BRIDGES & BATES,
VETERINARY-z-SURGEUN
OFFICE at DANN‘S STABLE. RIVER STREET.
REsmsxcs, 7 Issues STREET.
Telephone, 56-3, 1374
P. W. BATES,
AND—
ALL. KINDS OF
Monumental: Building Work.
42 WATER STREET, NORWALK.
Onnsns Fromm EXECUTED. iyios
DENTISTRY.
PR. W. n. BALDWIN is new permanent-
ly located inzthe Bisho Btfldmg No.46
, _sll'a_tre_et,.where_allin nee of Dentistry in
mfiiformmll dvalnablesgsistance. ~
sreferencesare your friends and n ' h.
borsnnd emvit'es inquiry gs to his algi‘fity
past record. Consultation free. Ofli
desire the expensive "fabrics in exolua ?
live patterns. ‘ '
:. 83.1mtillfip.m.
NATHANIEL K. FERRIS. '
Steam - Stone - Polishing '
11
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Norwalk Chronicler