Greenfield Republican, Greenfield, Hancock County, 22 December 1892 — Page 2

apologies

but I'm in the most awkward position. And there's a son of a ramrod there that I should know the looks of, and more betoken I believe that he knows mine. Being in this family, sir, and in a place of some responsibility (which was the cause I took the liberty to send for you.) _you are doubtless of the honest party?" ''You may be sure, at least," said I, "that all of that party are quite safe in Durrisdeer." "My dear man, it is my very thought," says he. "You see I have just been set on shore here by a very iionest man, whose name I cannot remeaiber, and who is to stand off and on for me till morning, at some •danger to himself, and, to be clear

Master of Ballantrae?" "I have never taken that name," •said Mr. Henry "but I am Henry Durie, at your service."

Then the colonel turns to Mrs. Henry, bowing with his hat upon his 'lieart and the most killing airs of -gallantry. "Tehre can be no mislake about so fine a figure of a lady," •says he. I address the seductive Miss Alison, of whom I have so often heard?"

BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.

CHAPTER V.—CONTINUED. I colonel. "You must not blame your«'My dear man," said he, "a thou- self." says, he^ "for this ekect on «aud anoloffies for disturbing you,

Once more husband and wife exchanged a look. "l am Mrs. Henry Durie," said she "but before my marriage my name was Alison Graeme."

Then jny lord spoke up. "I am an old man. Colonel Burke," said he, "and a frail one. It will be mercy on your part to be expeditious. Do you bring me news of—" he hesitated, and then the worJs broke from him with a singular change of voice— son?" HIT "My dear lord, I will be round with you like a soldier," said the .colonel. "1 do."

My lord held out a wavering hand lie seemed to wave a signal, but -whether it was to give him time or to speak on, was more than we could gi^ss. At length, he got out the one word—"Good!" ny. the very best in tho creation!" cries the colonel. "For my good friend and admired comrade is at this hour in the fine city of Paris, and as like as not, if I know anything of his habits, he will be drawing in his chair to a piece of dinner. Bedad, I believe the lady's fainting."

Mrs. Henry was indeed the color of death, and drooped against the window frame. But when Mr. Henry made a

mo^H*»,Mas

Alrs-

JJ'me-

the son of a ramrod, whom I believe I saw before Carlisle—" The colonel was a very quick "Oh, sir," said I, "you can trust: man, but at this he was somewhat Macconochie until to-morrow.', nonplussed. "To be sure, savs he, "Well, and it's a delight to hear! how very dull of me To be sure, your say so," says the stranger. But he still held the letter. "The truth is that my name is not a At last Mr. Henry reached forth very suitable one in this country of his hand, and there was nothing to Scotland. With a gentleman like' be done but give it up. Mr. Henry you, my d: ar man, I would have no took the letters (both hers and his concealments of course and by your leave, I'll just breathe it in your ear. They call me Francis Burke—Colonel IPrancis Burkp and I am here, at a most damnable risk to myself, to fee your masters—if you'll excu me, my good man,for giving them the name, for I'm sure it is a circumstance I would never have guessed from your appearance. And if you •would just be so very obliging as to take mv name to them, you might •say that I come bearing letters which I am sure the\r will be very rejoiced •to have the reading of

Colon'. 1 Franci Burke was one of Hie prince's Iri-hmm, that did his cause an infinity of hurt and wer? so much di-tasted of the Scots at the time of the rebellion and it came at once into my mind how the Master of Ballantrae had astonished all men fry going with that party. In the fame moment a strong foreboding of truth possessed my soul. •'If you will step in here/' said I, opening a chamber door, "I will let uiy lord know.'. ""And I am sure it is very good of vou, Mr. What-is-your-name?" says do:biieu

Up to the hall I went, slow footed. There they were all three, my old Hord in his place, Mrs. Henry at work by the window. Mr. Henry (as •was his custom) pacing the low end. In the midst was tho table laid for supper, I told them briefly what I had to say. My old lord lay back in .'iiis seat. Mrs. Henry sprung up •standing with a mechanical motion, and she and her husband stared at each other's eyes across the room it was the strangest chal lenging look these two exchanged, and as they looked, the color faded in their faces. Then Mr. Henry turned to me: not to speak, only to sighn .with his linger: but that was cnourh, and I went down again for the Colonel. "When we returned these three wore in much the same position I had left them in. I believe no word had passed. "My Lord Durrisdeer, no doubt?" say3 the Colonel bowine, and my lord bowed in answer, "And this," cootie us the colonel, "should be the

if to run to

-w ^Tith

J? J#

a s0rt

°,f

?i*bie3B|fci4,^ith

It is only natural we

were all brought up like brother and sister." Mrs. Henry looked at her husband with something like relief or even gratitftde. In my way of thinking that speech was the "first step he made in her good graces. "You must try to forgive me, Mrs. Durie, for indeed and I am just an Irish savage," said the colonel, "and 1 deserve to be shot for not breaking the matt more artistically to a I lady. But here are the master's own

letters one for each of the three of you and to b? sure (if I kuew anything of my fri nd's genius) he will tell his own story with a better grace."

He brought the three letters forth arranged them by their

as Iie

with vou, I am a littl concerned lest superscriptions. presented the fiist it should be at some to me. I have

to,

lm who

saved my lire so often, Mr.-I Tor- advanced toward Mrs. Henry holdgefc vour name, which is a verv. second good "one-that, faith, I would bo I but the ladv waved it back. lo verv loath to lose it after all. And

my husband," says she, with a I choked voice.

own) and looked upon their outside, with his brows knit hard as if he were thinking. He had surprised me all through by his excellent behavior but he was to excel himself now. "Let me give you a hand to your room, said he to his wife. "This has come something of the suddenest and at any rate, you will wish to read your letter by yourself.

Again she looked upon him with the same thought of wonder but he gave her no time, coming straight to where she stood. It will be better so, believe me, said he, and Colonel Burke is too considerate not to excuse you." And with that he took her hand by the fingers, and led her from the hall.

Mr. Henry returned !no more that night: "ind when Mr. Henry went to visit her next morning, as I heard long afterwards, she gave him the letter again, still unopened. "Oh, read it and be done!" he had cried.

Spare me that, said she. And by these two speeches, to my way of thinking, each undid a great part' of what' they hacT previously done well. But the letter, sure enough, came into ray hands aud by ine was burned, unopened.

To be very exact a3 to the adv.entures of the master after Cullode.n, I wrote not long ago to Colonel Burke, now a Chevalier of the Order of St. Louis, begging him for some notes in writing, since I could scarce depend upon my memory at so great an interval. To confess the truth, 1 have been somewhat embarrassed by his response for he sent me the complete memoirs of his life, touching only in places on the master running to a much greater length than my whole story, and not everywhere (as it seemed to me) designed for edification. He begged in his "letter, dated from Ettenheim, that I would find a publisher for the whole, after I had made what use of it I required and I think I shall best answer my own purpose and fulfill his wishes by printing certain parts of it in full. In this way my readers will have a detailed and I believe a very genuine account of some essential matters and if any publisher should take a fancy to the chevalier's manner of narration,he knows where to apply for the rest, of which there is plenty at his service. I put in my first extract here, so that it may stand in the place of what the chevalier told us over our wine in the hall of Durrisdeer but you are to suppose it was not the brutal fact, but a very varnished version that he offered to my lord.

II.—The Master's Wanderings. [From the Memoirs of the Chevalier do Burke.] CHAPTER VI.

I left Ruthveu (it's hardly necessary to remark) with much greater satisfaction than I had come to it: but whether I missed my way in the deserts, or whether my companions failed me, I soon found myself alone. This was a predicament very disagreeable for I never understood this horrid country or savage people, and the last stroke of the prince's withdrawal had made us of the Irish more unpopular than ever. I was reflecting on my poor chances when I saw another horseman on the hill, whom I supposed at first to have been a phantom, the news of his death in the very front at Culloden being current in the army generally. This was the Master of Ballantrae, my Lord Durrisdeer's son, a young nobleman of the rarest gallantry and parts, and equally designed by nature to adorn a court and to reap laurels in the field. Our meeting was the more welcome to both, as he was one of the few Slcots who had used the Irish with Consideration and as he might now *:•$ utility in aiding fnyf "et what founded our .inndship was acircums' f, as ro-1 man tic as ary

This was pi light, aft# *he $f:

mountain. There was an Appin man, Alan Black Stewart (or some such name,* but I have seen him since in France) who chanced to be passing the same way, and had a jealousy of nly companion. Veiy uncivil expressions were exchanged, and Stewart calls upon the master to alight and have it out. "Why, Mr. Stewart, siayS the master, "I think at the present time I would prefer to run a race with you." And with the word claps spurs to his horse.

Stewart ran after us, a childish thing to do, for more than a mile and I could not help laughing as I looked back at last and saw him on a hill holding his hand to his side and nearly burst with running. "But ail the same," I could not help saying to my companion, "I would let no man run after me for any such proper purpose and not give him his desire. It was a good jest, but it smells a trifle cowai'dly."

He bent his brows at me. "I do pretty well," says he, "when I saddle myself with the most unpopular with the naked eye. And if you like not my company, you can 'saddle' yourself on some one else."

Colonel Burke," says he. "do not let us quarrel aud to that effect, let me assure you I am tho least patient man iu the world." "I am as little patient as yourself," said I. "I care not who kijows that." "At this rate," said he, reining in. "we shall not go very far. And 1 propose we do one of two things up on the instant: either quarrel and be done, or make a sure bargain to bear everything at each other's hands." "Like a pair of brothers?" said I. "I said no foolishness," he replied. "I have a brother of my own, and I think no more of him than of a colewort. But if we are to haver our noses rubbed together in this course of flight, let us each dare to be ourselves like savages, and each swear that he will neither resent nor deprecate the other. I am a pretty bad fellow at bottom, and I find tho pretense of virtues very irksome." "Oh, I am as bad as yourself," said I. "There is no skim milk in Francis Burke. But which is it to be? Fight or make friends?" "Why," says he, "I think it will be the best manner to spin a coin for it."

This proposition was too highly chivalrous not to take my fancy and st,range as it may seem of two well born gentlemen of to day, we spun a half crown (like a pair of ancient paladins) whether we were to cut each other's throats or be sworn friends. A more romantic circumstance can rarely have occurred a*hd it is one of those points in my memoirs, by which we may seo the old tales of Homer and the poets are equally true to-day, at least of the noble and genteel. The coin l^fcfpr peace, and we shook hands upon our bargain. And then it was that my companion explained to me his thought in running away from*Mr. Stewart, which was certainly worthy of his political intellect. The report of his death, he said, was a great guard to him 'Mr. Stewart having recognized him. had become a danger aud he had taken the briefest road to that gentleman's silence. "For," said he. "Alan Black is too vain a man to narrate any such story of himself."

Toward afternoon we came down to the shores of that loch for which we were heading and the»*e was the ship but newly come to anchor. She was the "Sainte-Marie-des-Anges," out of the port of Havre-de-Grace. The master, after we had signaled for a boat, asked me if I knew the captain. I told him he was a countryman of mine, of the most unblemished integrity, but, I was afraid, a rather timorous man. "No matter," says he. "For all that, he should certainly hear the truth."

I asked him if he meant about the battle for if the captain once knew the standard was down, he would certainly put to sea agaiirat once. "And even then!" said he "the arms are now of no sort of utility." "My dear man," said I, "who thinks of the arms? But to be sure we ipust remember our friends.They will be close upon our heels, perhaps the prince himself, and if the ship be gone, a great number of valuable lives may be imperiled." "The captain and the crew have lives also, if you come to that," says Ballantrae.

This I declared was but a quibble, and that I would not hear of the captain being told and then it was that Ballantrae made me a witty answer, for the sake of which (and also cause I have been blamed myself in this business of the "Sainte-Marie-des-Agnes") I have related the whole conversation as it passed. "Frank," said he, "remember our bargain. I must not object to your holding your tongue, which I hereby even encourage you to do but by the same terms, you are not to resent my telling."

I could not help laughing at this though I still forewarned him what would come of it. "The devil may come of it for what I care," says the reckless fellow. "I have always done exactly as I felt inclined."

As is well known, my prediction came true. The captain had no sooner heard the news than he cut his cable and to sea again and before morning broke, we were iu the Great Minch.

The ship was very old the skipper although the mjj?

honest of was one The wind ta, •NOT* .4

be K\sr

the sea raged extremely. All the day we had little heart whether to eat or drink went early to rest in some concern of mind, and (as if to give us a lesson) in the night the wind chopped suddenly into the northeast and blew a hurricane. We were awakened by the dreadful thunder of the tempest and the stamping of the mariners on deck so that I supposed our last hour was certainly come, and the terror of my mind was increased out of all measure by Ballantrae, who mocked at my devotions. It is hours like these that a man of any piety appears in his true light, and we find (what we are taught as babes) the small trust that can be set in worldly friends I would be unworthy of my religion if I let this pass without particular remark. For three days we lay in the dark in the cabin and had but a biscuit to nibble. On the fourth the wind fell, leaving the ship dismasted and heaving on vast billows. The captain had not a guess of whither we were blown he was stark ignorant of his trade and could do naught but bless the Holy Virgin a very good thing, too, but scarce the whole of seamanship. It seemed our one hope was to be picked up by another vessel, and if that should prove to be an English ship it might be no great blessing to the master and myself.

The fifth and sixth days we tossed there helpless. The seventh some sail was got on her, but she was an unwieldy vessel at best and made little but leeway. All the time,- indeed, we had been drifting to the south aud west, and during the tempest must have been driven iu that direction with unheard of violence. The ninth day was cold and black with a great sea running and every mark of foul weather. In this situation we were overjoyed to sight a small ship on the horizon and to perceive her go about and head for the "Sainte Marie." But our gratification did not very long endure, for when she had laid to and lowered a boat it was immediately filled with disorderly fellows, who §ang and shouted as they pulled across to us and swarmed on our deck with bare cutlasses, cursing lordly. Their leader was a horrible villain, with his face blacked and his whiskers curled in ringlets. Teach was his name, a most notorious pirate. He stamped about the deck raving and crying out that his name was Satan and his ship was called Hell. There was something about him like a wicked child or half-witted person that daunted me beyond expression. I whispered to Ballantrae that I would not be the last to volunteer and only prayed God that they might be short of hands. He approved my purpose with a nod. "Bedad." said I to Master Teach, "if you are Satan, here is a divil for .ye."

The word pleased him, and (not to dwell upon these shocking incidents) Ballantrae audi and two others were taken an recruits, while the skipper aud all the rest were cast into the sea by the method of walking the plank. It was the first time I had seen this done and my heart died within me at the spectacle, and Master Teach or one of his acolytes (for ray head was too much lost to be precise) remarked upon my pale face in a very alarming manner. I had the strength to cut a step or two of jig and cry out some ribaldry, which saved me for that time, but my legs were like water when I must get into the skiff with those miscreants, and what with my horror of my company and fear of the monstrous billows it was all I could do to keep an Irish tongue and break a jest or two as we were pulled aboard. By the blessing of God there was a fiddle in the pirate ship, which I had no sooner seen than 1 fell upon, and in my quality of crowder I had the heavenly good luck to get tavor in their eves. Crowding Pat was the name thev dubbed me with, and it was little I cared for a name so long as my skin was whole.

CHAPTER VII.

What kind of a pandemonium that vessel was I cannot describe, but she was commanded by a lunatic and might be called a floating Bedlam. Drinking, roaring, singing, quarreling, dancing, they were never all sober at one time, and there were days together when if a squall had supervened it must have sent us to the bottom, orj if a king's ship had come along it would have been found quite helpless for defense. Once or twice we sighted a sail, and if we were sober enough overhauled it,

God

forgive! and if we were too drunk she got away and I would bless the saints under my breath Teach ruled, if you can call that rule watch brought no order, by the terror he created, and I observed the man was very vain of his position. I have known marshals of France, aye, and even Highland chieftains that were less openly puffed up, which throws a singular light on the pursuit of honor and glory. Indeed, the longer we live the more we perceive the sagacity of Aristotle and other old philosophers, and though I have all my life been eager for legitimate distinctions I can lay my hand upon my heart at the end of my career and declare there is not one—no, nor yet life itself—which is worth acquiring or preserving at the slightest cost of dignity.

It was long before I got private speech of Ballantrae, but at length one night we crept out on the bowl sprit, when the rest were better em! ployed^/%d comiserated our position "N? ^an deliver us now but th sai/ Hd I. L.S '4 is very different," a

Ma^trae,_v "for

make no profit of him, and lie continually open to capture and," says he, "I am not going to be a tarry pirate for nothing, nor yet to hang in chains if I can help it." And he told me what was in his mind to better the state of the ship in the way of discipline, which would give us safety for the present, and a sooner hope of deliverance when they should have gained enough and should break up their company.

I confessed to him ingeniously that my nerve was quite shook amid these horrible surroundings, and I durst scarce tell him to count upon me. "I am not very easy frightened," said he, "not very easy at best."

A few days after there befell an accident which had nearly hanged us all, and offers the most extraordinary picture of the folly that ruled in our concerns. We were all pretty drunk and some bedlamite spying a sail. Teach put the ship about in chase without a glance, and we began to bustle up the arms and boast of the horrors that should follow. I observed Ballantrae stood quiet in the bows, looking under the shade of his hand but for my part, true to my policy among these savages, I was at work with the busiest and passing Irish jests for their diversion. "Run up the colors,'" cried Teach. "Show the the Jolly Roger."

It was the merest drunken braggadocio at such a stage, and might have lost us a valuable prize but I thought it no part of mine to reason, aud I ran up the black Flag with my own hand.

Ballantrae stepped presently aft with a smile upon his face. "You may perhaps like to know, you drunken dog," says he, "that you are chasing a king's ship." (TO BE CONTINUED.)

MERRY CHRIST3IAS.

May It Ever Continue to Bo a Season of Joy.

Mrs. Jordan.

ERRY CHRISTrnas!" cries the shivering urchin at your door, as he rubs his chilled hands to keep them from freezing. "Merry Christmas!" says your smiling and opulent friend, as he buttons hi's

comfortable cloak more clossly about his form. Will it ever cease to bo the most musical key of greeting to unlock the uoor of ailection and generosity? Shall we ever cease to associate it with warmth and comfort and blazing fires in broad chimneys and merry groups of children, and somewhere the branch of gr in memory of the never dying lc of Him whose natal dav we colebV^te?

How beautiful it is that the sweet 4aith is year bv year renewed in our children as they look forward with love and trust to the joyful time? How the wonderful spirit of the time has touched the hearts OL great writers and glorified the literature that deals with it. Christmas story telling has become one of the lovely arts ol modern writers, and to Dickens we owe very much of the Christmas sentiment. Of all the minstrels of the day his songs have left most music in our hearts. How could any one harbor selfish and narrovv feelings after reading those shining pages through which we seem to hear the chinv: of bells, the Christmas carols, the song of the steaming kettle and the pleasant chirp of the cricket over whose pages we see so many kindly faces and hear such loving words. We do not care to cut the kindlv aud simple' cheer of these Christmas friends for the brave and knightly romance of King Arthur in his baronial halls, keeping watch beside the yule log beneath the shadow of the mistletoe. The old yule log has burned to ash ?s long ago and has become only a tradition but thank God for the love which never goes out of fashion the sweetness of Christmas time is just as bright as in those olden days.

Negroes Doing Well in litborla. A report from the minister resident and consul general to Liberia, recently received, speaks very highly of the prospects of the negroes who have recently emigrated there from the United "States. A liberal piece of land is allotted to each immigrant and they are cared for by the colonization society for six months, by which time it is expected they wi 1 have raised enough to be self-sup-porting. A few of the negroes, finding that they could not get rich at once and were expected to work for their living, were disappointed and returned to the United States. The rest are satisfied and have turned their attention to planting coffee, which in a few years will yield them a fine income. One man who went out a few months ago now lias a good house built and 5,000 young coffee trees^

Disabilities of Sox.

Street & Smith's

Good Newft.

Little Dot—I wish I was a boy. Little Dick—Why Little Dot—Cause a girl always feels so wicked w'en she does anything wrong, an' a boy don't. Boys just goes right along and has a good time.

Booming His Stocks.

Pittsburg Dispatch. "Doctor, can Vou tell me what is good for 'that tirad feeling?'

The doctor haoV just been to his brokers investing little of his hardcollected cash inl street railway bonds, and thoughtlessly replied: 'Take a street car.

The linen wvNyi ctured yepr' England, cou

vhe

HP®

trfapr^'

earth »e«l

CONGIiEly

A bill was introduced in the the 16th providing for the repeal dependent pension act.

A measure lo pav Florida citizens ai ditional $2,000 apicce for the ninotj Seminole Indians killed in 185-'7 is thelloiiso. Tho Government Las air paid $bC0 apiece for each of the Ini Blain.

Congressman Butler, of Iowa, wants pansy put into the old flag, and desirt to be adopted as the national flower, has introduced a bill in the lower Hov. to give effect to his ideas. No gri amount of enthusiasm has as yet be\. developed in favor of the change.

Chicago 2 r'd Cincinnati— |SJ r'd St. Louis. r'd 08\i New York r'd 77ys Baltimore I 71 Philadelphia. 2 r'd '5

During his remarks before the Senate. committee, Wednesday,.M E. Ingalls railroad president.made the sensational stated merits that the railroads of the country are in a serious state, and that unie^Ss something is done at once it would take hard work to avert a serious panic.. Ho declared his belief that tho country is on the verge of great financial troubles.

The annual report of the Interstate\ Commerce Commission was transmitted to Congress Monday. The work of tho Commission is set forth at length, including:, the statement that there are now on fil« with the Commission 850.003 tariff schodules. Congress is urged to take tho neces* sary action to check existing evils.

POLITICAL?

It is said Mr. Cleveland has practically made up his mind and will not call an extra session of Congress.

The official vote of Nebraska on Presl dential electors is: Weaver, S3.134 Harpi son, S7,218 Clevevoland, 24,943.

Tho American Bimetallic Leaguoadopt* p,d resolutions opposing the repeal of tho existing silver law unless iu furtheranceot free coinage.

Senator Mills, of Texas, announces thai he is not in the "office peddling" business, and that he has all he can do to attend to his "legislative" duties.

Politicians aro already discussing tho proposition of tho Union league Ciub, ol Philadelphia, to give 7 resident Harrison a National dinner shortly after his retirement from the White House, and claim to see in it the inception of a Harrison movement for 1S96. They say it is more than likely that there will be a Kepublicau Springer at tho Union League banquet board, who will placo Hen. Harrison in nomination for 1396. justasdid the pre'^ontrfi chairman of tho House committee our jvays atid moans nominate Mr. Cleveland it tho Thurmau banquet shortly after hi9 retirement from tho White House in lri89All tho National leaders of the party are jxpected to attend the dinner, and it lupposed by many that tho line of action to be pursued by the Republican party will DO mapped out. It is also expected by nany that President Harrison will in his speech before the club forecast tho futuro )f his party, aud lay down the lines of aolicy on which the Republicans will iheir tight fyr a return to power fears hence.

The ofticial canvass, of the .-ye'** ^asPresidential electors in Michi# that, the plurality of George I)., eastern district at large, was Df ,). A. ilubbel, It., in t.iie we trict, was 21,150. Democratic an electors in the Congressional areas follows: First. Seeoi. seventh. 21: Tenth, 515. He Pluralities are: Third. r,47": Fouri Fifth, 2,014: Sixth, I.TIiJ: Eight!. Ninth, 1,183 Eleveneh,-2,0i5: T\

THE MARKETS.

iNItlANAPOUS, Doc. 21. tKr3.

Quotations for Indianapolis when not specified ,• GTSA.IN. Wheat.—No. 2 red, iW^'c: No. 3 retl, 63c wagon wheat, (57c.

Corn No. 1 wiiit.e, 41c No. 2 white, He: white mixed, 41c.: No. 3 white, 40c No. 2 yellow, 38e: No. yellow, No. 2 mixed,

h&c

No. 3 mixed, 37, ear. 371.

Oats—No. 2 white, 3lc: No. white, I4 ,c: No. 2 mixed, "2'.c: re he ted, 2'c. Hay—Timothy, choice. $-2.(M: No. l.i SI 1.50 No. 2, 0: No. 1 prairie, *'.50 No. 2. $.i.50: mixed hay,$7.50 clover,53.50.

Bran $11.50 per ton. Wheat. Corn. Oats. I Rye.

US!

Mai

i'j

30 .'15 am 36! 2 43 40

$ 50i-

54 4S 0

I r8 I Clover Sr/Hl.

.50

31 :.7

4'J

Toledo 74'i Detroit 1 wh73l.li Minneapolis..

CATTLE.

Export grades 54 50@5 25 Good to choicosliippers 3 '.i0®4 35 Fair to mod iu in shippers 3 35@3 70 Common shippers 2 (i.j(«)3 15 Stockers. common to good 2 00^3 15 Good to choice heifers 2 75(«3 25 Fair to medium heifers 2 25(«!2 CO Common, thin heifers 1 f0(g?2 (X) Good to choice cows 2 f5(.«)3 If Fair to medium cows 2 0(Mj'2 Common old cows 1 OlVfil Veals, good to choice 3 5(X«nY Hulls, common to medium— 1 50^2^ Milkers, good to choice 25(MX'ftf3.rMilkers, common to medium... l:.'00@2(

HOflS,

Heavy packing and shipping.. $6 00^6 3' Lights 5 75(^(5 0 Mixed 5 80@(5 Heavy roughs 4 0!X^!5 7

SlIEKl*.

Good to choice 00@4 Fair to medium 3 25(«(34 Common to medium 2 50.^3 a Lambs, good to choice 4 00@5 50^.

POUI.TRY ANI) OTIIKR I'KODUCE. ..

Poultry—Uens..7c $ lb young chickons 8c $ lb turkeys, fat cholco liens, Dc lb. ducks, 7c $ lb geese,5.40 lor choice.

Eggs—Shippers paying 2 c.

Butter—Choice country butter, 14@16e common, 8(j$l0c creamery, retailing fron store at 35c.

Cheese—New \orlf full cream, 12@12£c skims, 5(g7c lb. (Jobbing prices.)

Feathers—Prime geese 40c $ lb mixed duck, 20c $ lb. JJeeswax—Dark, 15c yellow,20c (selling)-

Wool—Fine merino, lti'qJSc "nwashod: combing, 21c tub washed, 31($33c. HIDES, TALLOW, ETC.

Hides—No. 1 green hides, 3c No. 2 green hides, 2Kc No. 1 G. S. hides, 4»c: No.

U. S. hides, 3^c: No. 1 tallow, 4cNo. 2 tallow, 3}£c. liorse Hides—$2@$2.25.

Tailor/—No. 1, 4c No. 2.3%c. Greasy—White, 4c yellw, 3%c brown, 3c.

FRUITS ANI VEGETABLES.

Potatoes—[email protected] $ brl.

Sw« )t Potatoes—Jerseys, $4.50. *1 Lemons—Choice, 96.50 $ -box far ^5peir*--Kiefer, 12

Ton*—$3 "I