The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on November 22, 1893 · Page 10
Get access to this page with a Free Trial

The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 10

Publication:
Location:
Algona, Iowa
Issue Date:
Wednesday, November 22, 1893
Page:
Page 10
Start Free Trial
Cancel

mi--'- MOIN18; jLMQtTAt i6WA, WEDNESDAY. UOVBMBEfi 22, 1883. ' "' ^^^^^'•''"^"^""""""''•'"•••••••'•i^ 15 5^.HI«> ft vernal mom, yot overhead Tno leafless boughs across the lane wore Itnlt- he Kliost of Some.qrKoUeti api-lna:. We sn)d, O'of winter's vbHa cbftied aittiha-. more Or wno it spring horsoif. that, gone nstrav, Bc.TOnfl.tho alifeh frontier chose to tarty f Or but some hold outrider of the May, Some April-emissary? trho'npinrltioii faded on the air, fhm-icious nnd incalculable comer. Wi.lt t ion loo pass, find leavo my chill days tar • And f,iVr. my phantom summer? —London Spectator. TOE MISADVENTURES OF JOHN NICHOLSON. «Y KOBKUT I.OUIS STJSfENSON. CHAPTER VI—CONTINUED. From one of these spells he was awakened by the stoppage of the cab; . and, getting down, ho found himself in quite a country road, the last lamp - of the suburb shining some way below, and tho high walls of a garden rising before him in the dark. The Lodge (as tho place was named) stood, indeed, very solitary. To the south it adjoined another house, but standing- in so large a garden as to be well out of cry; on all other sides, open fields stretched upward to the woods Of Corstorphine Hill, or backward to the dells of Bavelston, or downward toward the valley of the Leith. Tho effect of seclusion was aided by the great height of the garden walls, which were indeed conventual and as John had tested in former days defied the climbing school boy. Tho lamp of the cab threw a gleam upon the door and not brilliant handle of the bell. "Shall I ring for ye?" said tho cabman, who had descended from his perch and was slapping his chest, for the night was bitter, i _ "I wish you would." said John.put- ting his hand to his brow in one of nia excesses of giddiness. ! Tlie man pulled at the handle and the clanking of the bell replied from further in the garden; twice and thrice lie did it with sufficient intervals; in the great, frosty silence of trs night tho sounds feli sharp and sirmll. "Does he expect ye?" asked tlie driver, with that manner of familiar interest that well became his port- wine face: and when John had told him no. "Well, then," said the cabman, "if ye-11 talc' my advice of it, we'll gang back. And that's disinterested, mind ye, for my stables are in the Glesgie road." "Tho servants must hear," saiv. John. "Hout," said the driver, "he keeps no servants here, man. They're in the town house; I drive him often; Its just a kind of hermitage, this." "Give me the bell!" said John; and ho plucked at it like a man desperate. The clamor had not yet subsided before they heard steps upon the gravel, and a voice of singular nervous irritability cried to them through the door, "Who are you, and what do you want?" "Alan." said John, "it's rne—its Fatty—John, you know. I'm just come homo, and I've come to stay with you." There was no reply for a moment, and then the door was opened. "Get tho portmanteau down," John to the driver. "Do nothing of the kind," said Alan; and then to John. "Come in hero a moment. I want to speak io you." John entered tho garden' and tho door was closed behind him. A candle stood on tho gravel walk, winking a little in the draughts; it threw in- consistant sparkles on the clumped holly, struck tho light and darkness to and fro liko a veil on Alan's features, and sent his shadow hovering behind him. All beyond was iuscru° table; and John's dizzy brain rocked with the shadow. Yet even so, it struck him that Alan was pale, and his voice, when ho spoke, unnatural. "What brings you here to-night?" he began. "I don't want,God knows, to seem unfriendly; but I cannot take you in, Nicholson; I can uot do it." "Alan," said John, "you've got to You don't know the mess I'm in; the governor's turned me out, and I daro not show my face in an iiin, becauso they're down an mo for murder or something." "For what!" cried Alan, starting. "Murder, I believe," says John. "Murder!" repeated Alan, and passed his hand over his eyes, "what was that you were saying P" he asked again. ''That they are down on me," safd John, I am accused of murder, by what I can make out, and I've really had a dreadful day of it, Alan, and I can't sleep on the roadside on a night liko this—at least, not with a portmanteau," ho pleaded. "Hush!" said Alan, with hi.s head nu one side; and then. "Did you bear nothing?" he asked. "No," said John, thrilling, ho knew not why, with communicated terror. "No, 1 heard nothing, why?" And then, as there was no answer, he reverted to his pleading. "But I say, you've just got to take me in. I'll go right away to bed if you have anything to do. I seem to haye been drinking: I was that knocked over. I wouldn't turn you away, Alan, if you were down on your luck." "No:"' returned Alan. "Neither will 1 you. then. Come and let's get your'portmanteau." The cabman was paid.and drove off down the long 1 , lamp-lighted hill, and the -two Mends, stood ou the sidewalk b,t-ejde tho portmanteau till, the last rumble gf the wheels, had died in ft seemed to John as though, o this de- in no state to criticise, shared profoundly in the feeling. Whet) tb.6 stillness was 6ac6 perfect, Alan Shouldered {h& portmanteau, carried it in, and shut and locked the gat-den door; and then, once more, abstraction seemed to fall upon him.and he stood with his hand lipon the key, until the cold began to nibble at John's fingers. • '"Why are we standing-here ?"asked John. "Eh?" said Alan, blankly. "Why, man, you don't seein yourself," said tho other. "No, I'm not myself, said Alan; and he sat down on tho portmanteau and put his face in his hands. John stood beside him swaying a little, and.looking about him at tho swaying shadows, the flitting sparkles, and the steady stars overhead, until the windless cold began to touch him through his clothes on the bare-skin. Even in his bemused intelligence wonder began to awake. "I say, let's come on to the house," he said at last. "Yes, let's come on to the house," repeated Alan. And he rose at once, reshouldered the portmanteau, and, taking the candle : in his other hand, moved forward to the lodge. This was a long, low building, smothered in creepers; and now, except for some chinks of light between the dining-room shutters, it was plunged into darkness and silence. In the hall Alan lighted another candle, gave it to John, and opened the door of a bedroom. "Here," ho said, "go to bed, Don't mind me, John. You'll bo sorry for me when you know." "Wait a bit," returned John, "I've got so cold with all that standing about. Lot's go into the dining-room a minute. Just one glass to warm mo, Alan." On the, table in the hall stood a glass, and a bottle with a whisky label on a tray. It was plain tho bottle had boon just opened, for the cork and corkscrew lay beside it. "Tako that," said Alan, passing- John the whisky, and then with a certain roughness pushed his Mend into the bedroom and closed the door bo- hind him. John stood amazed. Then ho shook the bottle, and, to his further wonder, found it partly empty. Three or four glasses wore gone. Alan must have uncorked the bottle of whiskey and drank three or four glasses, one after tho other, without sitting clown, for there was no chair, and that in his own cold lobby on this freezing night! It fully explained his eccentricities, John reflected sagely as ho mixed himself a grog. Poor Alan! Ho was drunk; and what a slave to .it poor Alan was. to drink in this unsociable, uncomfortable fashion! The man who would di-inlc alone, except for health's sake, as John was now doing, was utterly lost. Ho took the grog out, and felt hazier, but warmer. It was hard work opening the portmanteau and finding his night things; and before ho was undressed the cold hud struck home to him once more. "Well," said, he, "there's no sense in getting ill with nil this other trouble." And presently dreamless slnmbor buried him. Whou John a-woko it was day. Tho low winter sun was already in the heavens, but his watch had stopped, and it was impossible to toll tho hour ( exactly. Ton, ho guessed it, and said i macl0 baste to dress, dismal reflections crowding on his mind. But it was loss from terror than from regret that he now suffered, and with his regret there were mingled cutting pangs of penitence. Thoro had fallen upon him a blow, cruel indeed, but yet only tho punishment of old misdoing; and ho had rebelled and plunged into fresh sin. Tho rod had been used to chasten, and ho had bit tho chastening fingers. His father was right; John had justified him; John was no guest for decent people's houses, and no fit associate for decent people's children.- And had a broader hint boon needed, there wus tho case of his old friend. John was no drunkard, though ho could at times exceed, and tho picture of Houston drinking neat spirits at his hall table struck him with something liko disgust. Ho hung back from mooting his old friend. Ho could have wished he had not como to him; and yet, oven now, where ols-e was he to turn? with ft moderated voica, he made the hasty circuit of the garden, and finding neither man nor trace ot- man in all its evergreen coverts, turned at last to tho house. About the house the silence ecemod to deepen strangely. The 'door, indeed, stood open rfs before; but tho windows were still shuttered, tho chimneys breathed ho stain into the bright air, there sotmd- ed abroad none of that low stir (perhaps audible rather to the eyes of tho spirit than to the car of the flesh) by which a house announces and betrays its human lodgers. And yet Alan must bo there—Alan locked in drunken slumbers, forgetful of the, return of day, of the holy season, and of the friend whom he had so coldly received and was now so churlishly neglecting. John's disgust redoubled at the thought; but hunger was beginning to grow stronger than repulsion, and as a step to breakfast, if nothing else, he must find and arouse this sleeper. Ho made the circuit of the bedroom quarters. All, until he came to Alan's chamber, were locked from without, and bore the marks of a prolonged disuse. But Alan's was a room in commission, filled with clothes, knickknacks, letters, books, and the conveniences of a solitary man. Tho fire had been lighted; but it had long ago burned out, and the ashes were stone cold. The bed had been made, but it had not been slopt in. Worse and worse, then; Alan must have fallen where he sat, and now sprawled brutishly, no doubt upon tho dining-room floor. Tho dining-room was a very long apartment and was reached through a passage; so that John, upon his entrance, brought but little light with him, and must move toward tho window with spread arms, groping .and knocking on the furniture. Suddenly he tripped and fell his length over ti prostrate body. It was what ho had looked for, yot it shocked him; and ho marvelled that so rough an impact should not have kicked a groan out of the .drunkard.- Men had killed thorn- selves ere now in such excesses, and a dreary and degraded end that made John shudder. What if Alan wore dead? There would bo a Christmas Day! By this, John had his hand upon tho shutters, and Hinging them back, beheld onco again tho blessed face of tho day. Even by that light the room had a discomfortablo air. Tho chairs wore scattered and one had been overthrown; the tablecloth, laid as if for dinner, was twitched to one .side, and some of tho dishes had fallen tu tho floor. Behind the table lay the drunkard, still unarouscd, only one foot visible to John. But now that light was in the room, tho worst seemed over; it was a disgusting business, but not more than disgusting; and it was with no great apprehension that John proceeded to make tho circuit of the table; his last comparatively tranquil moment for that day. No sooner had he turned tho corner, no sooner had his eyes alighted on the body, -than he gave a smothered, breathless cry, and flsd out of the room and out of the house. It was not Alan who lay there, but a man well up in years, of stern countenance and iron-gray locks; and it was no drunkard, for the body lay in a black pool of blood, and the opsn eyes stared upon the ceiling. To and fro walked John before the door. The extreme sharpness of tho air acted on his nerves liko an astringent and braced thorn swiftly. Presently, ho not relaxing in his disordered walk, tho images began to come clearer and stay longer in his fancy, and next the power of thought cams back to him, and the horror and danger of his situation rooted him to the ground. Dim WIT AND HITM0E, LATB PRODUCTIONS OP FUNNY WRITEftS. THE ttettrtaai ttita and Pen Picture* «f Human Nnturo In VarloH* Stages . of Development—terror ot the Football Season. ? •<"»»• Talk i-r-«it*tkp. > Mrs. Brlekrow — It's perfectly Inable. Here wo are in this 'broiling pity' yet Mr. Urickrow— You said you waflted to summer at the'sea sfde. ''yes, and YOU insisted on the-tnoun- '" * tho Outside Vlo\v. Avernge Man—There's a, run on another bank. Just look at those depositors crowding- in. The fools! Tnat's what makes mofley tight. 'I hat whole crowd should be carted oflMio a lunatic asylum. Friend—You are allowing 1 your deposit to remain, I presume. Average Man—Um—er—I haven't any funds in that bank. ' An Example. . . .. "Just so. 1'iines are very hard, my dear/. Let's go on argo ing the question a few weeks longer, and then it Will be cool enough to stay at home." —New York Weekly. Advantages of Matrimony. Friend—Did you lose any thing in thg Bustall bank? Depositor — Not a cent, "Well! well! If you knew the thing was going- up why didn't you say so?" "I didn't know. I had to go oft' on business, so I left my Wife some blank Chocks. She went shopping." it is The truth Out. Clara (at the seaside)—There! I knew. He has proposed this evening, and she has accepted. ' Dora—'1 hey are acting like other people; mrt-ely polite, that's all. I "That s only a blind. Look at her yachting cap." "It's on hind side before. Kind Old Gentleman Cassisting- boy <o get barrow up tho gutter)—I don't see how you manage 1o get that barrow up the gutter alone. Bright Youth—I don't. Dere's always some jay a-st-indin' around as takes it up for me.—Puck. lock Needed Her Dad's Help. Summer Girl—Papa, I wish you'd . your money and pretend to fail, there's a good old dear. It needn't last more than a day or two, and there are so many failures now no one will find fault Father—Of all things! Wha Summer Girl—Oh, it's all right You See, I'm engaged to nine young- men, and I've g-ot 1 1 get rid of at least eight of them, somehow. "Yes. A man can't kiss a girl under one of those peaks.'' Worfc for Him. Guard (at the World's Fair)—There goes Archibald Von Bloom,the famous war correspondent. Visitor—Has he come to report the meetings of the lady managers? She Loved Him. Sing-le Man (to himself)—I am sure that darling little angel loves me. Sho takes me into her confidence and tells me^all her troubles. Same Man (some years later)—Con- sarn it all! From morning till night, and night till morning, when I'm at Home, 1 hear nothing l>ut tales about the servants, the butchi-r, the butler, the baker, the candlestick-maker and all the rest of 'em. BAKINa POWDER that makes the delicious biscuit, griddle cake and doughnut, WOMAN'S WAY. greatest of boys in in Equally Difficult. Bag-ley—Did you ever try squaring the circle. Brace—I did not: but I tried to get sqxiaro with a wheel of fortune, once. A Kico Distinction. Binkerton—Miss De Lanie's father was of Hibernian descent, was he not? Pilg-arlic—Oh. no! .lust a common Irishman. The family are not at all wealthy, Too Liilo. Featherstone—I have called on Miss Palisade several times • lateJy, but I have invariably found ner notathome. King way— You don't pret there early enough. You should call before 1 do. A Mistake. "What? Engaged to Miss Budcl? Why, I thought Miss Wi lonsrhby was the incarnation of your ideal." "No —simply another case of mistaken identity." An Average Hoy. Father—Little Johnny appears to be hard at work out in the yard. What is he doing? Mother—1 don't know, but if he is working hard, it is play. No Is'eecl of Help. Mr. T'ortlie—Patrick, I wish you Would have this demijohn filled with the best whisky that Ukld,' Stuff & Co. have in stock; The carriage is out;, but when it returns I will send it to .meet you half-way, as I presume the demijohn will be heavy. New Man—It will be loight enough before Oi fret that far wid it, sor. It nilsht Bo Improved. Mr. Blinks—Think of ua joining 1 n conversational society, eh? Such nonsense! The idea of sitting around for two or three mortal hours, talking- or hearing: other people talk. It's the hc-ight of stupidilv. _ Mrs. Blinks—Oh, well, my dear, if time hangs heavy on our hands, wo can probably get some one from your club to teach us poker, and open a'bar. Blessings of Freedom. Foreign Guest—I notice that your pronunciation of many words differs from mine, and uot wishing to appear particular, I am trying to learn the American way. Host—This is a free country, my dear sir. Pronounce words to suit yourself. That's the way we all do. T,et She—Do you Them Elite. think there is any [TO BE CONTINUED.] These musings occupied him while he dressed, and accompanied him into the lobby of tho house. The door stood open on the garden. Doubtless Alan had stepped forth, and John did as he supposed his friend had done. The ground was hard as iron, the frost still rigorous. As he brushed among the hollies, icicles jingled and glittered in their fall; and wherever he wont a volley of .eager sparrows followed him. Here were Christmas weather and Christmas morning duly met, to the delig-ht of children. 0 This was the day of reunited families, the day to which he had so long looked forward, thinking to awake in his own bed in Randolph Crescent reconciled with all men and repeating the footprints of his youth; and here ho was alone, pacing the alleys of a wintry garden and filled with penitential thoughts. Arid that reminded him: Why was he alone? And where was Alan? Tho thought of the festal morning and the duo salutations reawakened his desire for his friend, and he began, to call for him by name. As the sound of his voice died away, he was aware of the greatness of the silence that environed him. But tor the twittering of the sparrows and the crunching of his own feet upon • the frozen snow, the whole windless world ol air hung over him entranced, and the stillness weighed uppa his mjnd wi'th horror of FUN IN CROSSING I'letny of I'-im in That rea on why a young- lady should not ride a bicycle as well as drive a horse? He—Not at all. It is just as easy to dodge a bicycle as a carriage. Not a Moteor. Little Dot—I saw a meteor last night, and I wished someone would give me a box of candy, but it didn't come true. Little Uick—That's queer. Mebby it was only a lightning-bug. STREETS. 1'rocoss In Now York City. I perfectly love to cross streets. It ia so exciting. I novor feel real sure I won't have to bo rescued before I got over. Oh, no; yoa will novor bo really run over, not if you do tho way I have told you; but often you will get rescued. Homo men—almost always a real nice, handsome one—will dash in after you and half carry you to the sidewalk. Maybe ho will really think you are in danger; perhaps he will just think it is a good chance to rescue you, writes Clara Belle in tho Times-Democrat. But so long as you can suppose ho was trying to save you it is elegant. Everyone looks at you and you fool so nice and conspicuous. I was rescued once in a perfectly horrid way, I got in an awful moss. I guess the driver was drunk, because any driver that wasn't would have pulled back when he saw a girl just calmly walk right under his horse's hoofs. But he didn't and for a minute I was scared. Then I felt myself grabbed and simply hurried to the sidewalk right under and over everything. I was much worse scared than before, and when I got there and looked up it was the fiercest old man you ever saw, with hair all over his face and shining eyes. Ho took me by the .shoulder and shook me till a lot o{ hairpins came out. lie talked at me most awfully in German, not a bit .like school German, so it must have been mostly swearing. Then ho left me all limp and strode off uptown. Do you know, I believe it was Herr Most. I was quite careful a long time after that, but it is ever so much more fun not being careful. Spent Only One. Little Dot—Mamma gave me two quarters to buy candy, but 1 only spent one of them. Father—That's something like. Now I'll give you another quarter to put with the other. Little Dot—Thank you; but I can't put it with the other till I find it. It dropped out of my pocket on the way to the caudy store. Dut-ing the eleventh century a fas>h- ion of embroidering the initials of the name .and the family arms oa the, in. I'npa Was Cross. Mamma—I wonder what your papa is stamping around about? Little Hoy— 1 don't know. I didn't go into his room, 'cause he acted cross. Mamma—-May be he can't find his razor, Litlle Boy—Yes.he can, 'cause I put it right back where he keeps it, soon as I got through takin' up tacks. All Kept Awake. New Pastor—My sermon to-day was hastily prepared, but I was glad to note that none of the congregation went to sleep. Host's Small Boy—No, the liies was awful to-day. lie Overdid It. BegR-em (to himself)—I've got around that rich old groat-aunt of mine at last, She's interested in benevolent schemes, :md I'm helping her nijrht and day to search out worthy objects. T'i-day she said I'd have cause for rejoicing when her will was read. His Great-Aunt (to herself)—I had no idea my grand-nephew was so good. It worries him almost sick to see HO much misery in the world. How delighted he will be to find that all my money is to go to the support of tho poor friendless orphans! Must He Good. Dora—Oh, I'm in such distress of mind, and I want your advice. I am loved by three men and I don't know which to aci.-ept. Clara — Which one has the most money? Dora—If 1 knew that, do you suppose I'd waste precious time running around for advice? The growth of girls is their t, r >th year and that the 17th. It is said that castor-oil .has not failed to remove warts to which it Was applied once a day for from two to six weeks. The number of unmarried women in England and Wales exceeds the number of unmarried men by tho majority of nearly 200,000. President Thwing says more young women are hurt by too much dancing 1 and candy eating than young men are by too much smoking. In honor of tho celebration of the G9th birthday of the queen reg-ent of China the streets of Pekin are to be decorated with pieces of red silk for a distance of fort/ miles. "Don't you know, sir, that it is impolite to swear before a lady?" The Irishman looked dazed for a moment and then replied: "Sure, mum, I begs yer pardon. But Oi didn't know yo wanted to shwear first." A noted Louisiana woman is Mrs. Uechet of TIavnesvills, who, though 30 years old, rides on horseback to and from her farm every day,- a distance of six miles, superintending- all the details of its management. All the wedding party were assembled at the house." The bridegroom alone was missing-. At last he put in a belated appearance. He was a hale old gentleman of 70. "Another time, coma a bit earlier," said the minister. Aunt Samantha is visiting at a house in Buffalo. She is an old maid and very devout, always concluding tier prayers with the Gloria,, "Why docs she say such funny things in her prayers?" asked the little daughter of _the house. "Why, what does she say?" replied the fond mamma. "1 don't remember all she says, but she always ends with 'World without' men, ah me! 1 " An English woman has employed thirty-five poor Irish women since 1885 in making a copy of an old piece of Bayeux tapestry. The linen and silk were woven and dyed especially for it. It is 337 inches long and twenty inches wide, contains 03;! men, 203 horses, 505 other animals, besides innumerable birds, trees and flowers. The original was also made by women, Matilda of Flanders and hor Court having worked a long time on it. GOSSIP GOING ABOUT. A FooIlHli Question. . Customer—Is this soap good? Dealer—Well, mum, the man writes poetry about that soap 810,003 a year. Customer—My sakos! Gimme dozen bars. A Nuturul Krror. who gets the Sea Air Not Wanted. First Little Girl—Did you go to seashore? (second Little Girl—No, we went to the mountains. We never go to the seashore. "Why?" "1 don't know, but mamma is awful spindly." The Buy Found It. Doctor—Did you take that prescription around to Air. Ailing? Boy—Yes, sir. "1 forgot the exact number of his residence. How did you find it?" "I told everybody along the street that I had one of your prescriptions for Mr. Ailing, and they all told me to look for a house with crape on the door." Her Will Mother—If that young man kissed you against your will, why didn't ypu call me? Daughter—He—be held me so tightly iu his ayms I cpuidn't call. "Why didn't you cai; after he lot you, go?" Horrified Stranger—You say that four meu were carried away unconscious, three were badly crushed, and the doctors were busy for an hour set- ing broken limbs! On what railroad did the accident occur, sir? Animated Narrator—Railroad? Accident?—It WHS tlie biggest foolball game of the season!—Puck. A Convenient fashion. Mrs. De Fashion—Did you take the medicine the doctor ordered? Small Daughter—Yes, an' it was horrid. . Mrs. De Fashion—Did you take a teaspoon t'ul? Small Daughter—N-o; 1 took a forkful. Spoons is out of fash'on, you know, mammy. a new Kvlde«Uy Juat nought. First Boy— That family ha? lawn mower. Second Boy — Think it's flew the men hjne doesn't look worn out? oy^W fee When the duke of York wasoblig-ed to retreat before the French, Sheridan gave as a toast, "The duke of York and his brave 'followers.'" In order to furnish sport for a shooting party on his Moravian estate. Baron Hirsch had 0,000 partridges transported in their cages and liberated. "Dan Rice" is tho name made famous by Dan Rice McLaren, who was born at the corner of Mulberry and Chatham streets in the city of New York on January 25, 1833. Dr. Boerhaave's reputation was so widespread that when a mandarin wrote to him from China with this simple address, "To Boerhaave, the famous doctor in Europe," the letter reached its destination, A new chapter of the Daughters of the Revolution, organized at Bound Brook, Pa,, has among its members Mrs. Sarah Van Nostrand, whose father was a soldier in the revolutionary war, and who is now 105 years old. Professor Henry Drummond, the Glasgow teacher says the universities in tho United States are something the country has reason to be proud of, and their chairs of philosophy are, a» a rule, worthy the admiration of Europe. It is learned that the secret donor of $500,000 to Harvard college to build, equip and maintain a reading room was the late Fred L. Ames of Boston, Muss. The money was to have been paid in installments, but the papers had not been signed at his death. That clever English novelist, Mrs. Alexander, has been lame for two years from a curious cause. She suffered serious hurt to the knee, owing to her cramped position in the ' dress circle of a London theater one evening, and she is now upable to walk without a stick. An Inquiry. '•Mamma," said Freddie, "what's th» mattur with my feet?" '"* '•I don't know; perhaps you are getting ''Mamma." dear. they d ° you A Weighty, Contract. "O ? b, I *°

What members have found on this page

Get access to Newspapers.com

  • The largest online newspaper archive
  • 8,900+ newspapers from the 1700s–2000s
  • Millions of additional pages added every month

Try it free