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HomeMy WebLinkAboutClinton New Era, 1892-02-26, Page 31 HZ CLINTON NEW; 'ERA, INTO IIEMIT ST011111 BY 1141.ZARI.I. earile dt'why ever hadn't yea COMO, afer- their. he talked, teetilY1 "Sir Arthur eaid hitneelf you had as mach right QMthe boy as I had myself." ""Me Mae? What, and me right in the Middle of the plurn Jain? And Sarah eo more fit so much as to stir a poon when your eye's caller," return, . Mrs Meade, dropping the Stocking she was mending and. looking across the candle's dim pyramid of flame at her husband. "There, Meade, I will Bay this • for ye?, of all the. menfolk I /ever Cann. RCM* you're the very Worst for rtting any upderstandin into. Nett; tit you've your good points, and . 4AV° been a middling hueband, as 4.&Twbands 'gm." ' "Well,ll, lbere, Martha, I can't say , tt, Feet of a wife you've a been, for ifi".the replied, "but I wish von% hrtler replied, a mealy wives to try you the Acieuee *1094 fly Off With your jam, 450?, Anybody Med think .tha world de_peaided ripen your jade." , The waele world may depend upou, 11143jam," retorted ll Mre, eade. "Any . y in the land n3ight Walk into my ki fierf to -morrow morning and throw all the jam I've got across the morn, if she'd a iniad to; it' r jellied that solid," MattheW , Meade did not stop to dotibt ' the probability of high-born :03 wishing to throw jam across Mrs eekle'it kitchen, but went on to ex- plain the importance of Sir Arthur's mission, to tell of the series of clues by which he had traced Philip's ident- ity, and of his great desire to take him into his own care and bringhim up. j The merits of Mrs Meade's am were airy- as nothing to her; when the thought of losing Philip, whichpene- trated but slowly into her brain, did at last reach it,•she put away her work and cried at the thought. "The many we'Ve buried, Meade," she sobbed, "and it did seem as though the Lord had sent us this one to make up." 'And the Lord did lend him,' cried Meade, smiting his fliJi on the table so that the candle jumped and the flame flickered. "You mind what I said, when I brought him home seven yeat s ago, Martha. A voice seemed to whisp- er plain to me. 'The same hand that made you childless, made this boy an orphan; save him from the workhouse, and he'll bring a blessing on the hearth you take him to-" "Yes, Meade, and he did bringa blessing," interposed Martha, drying her kind eyes; "there was , little Jessie sent us in our old age-" "Ay, the little maid was sent, bless her!" "And such a boy as he was, and no trouble with him. I mind that night when you came home from Ceichester, 'Here's a present for ye, mother,' you says, and it was long since you'd a called me mother; for it always made me sorrowful, thinking of them that was gone, and so I felt all a tremble. And I thought to meself, 'I do hope Meade haven't been spending his money on nonsence to pleasure me,' though my best bonnet was that shah - bed I didn't like to go terchurch of a • flne Sunday. 'It's alive, mother,' you n. -.sayssart-of-exeiteth --And-1-thoughta I sure it must be -some prize poultry, i he've,494„ Then I went out to the e Catlin tileciaiirari-eillearzl-a-iittle child crowing to itself, 'and I began to cry thinking of them we'd lost. And you told me to look pleasant and not fright- • en the little boy. 'For,' you says, the Lord has sent us an orphan child, Martha.' And we brought 'him inland ' he cuddled up in my arms, and laid his , little head again my arm and went off ° to sleep like a little angel," o "Right," corroborated Meade, "that's quite right, Martha, and you took to e him as though you'd bore him in your a own body. And we wasn't doing well, y ,if you mind. So many farmers failed, and we'd been unlucky with the dairy, and there was bad debts in the town - and one thing andanother;but you said, ° the child's bite and sup was nothing, and I thought he'll be better off in the poorest place than in the workhouse, though I did want to breed him up'a °„ gentleman, knowing, as the landlady - told me, the poor dead mother was an honest woman and a real lady. Bnt I , thought may be we shall see better _- days before 'tis time to begin the boy's 7 schooling. Right enough. Sd it fell 1 out. Everything throve with us from the day the child came. And now I'm reckoned a warm man hereabouts." a , '"Yes, Matthew, you are warm, and t. thankful L am, when I think of them " times," replied Mrs Meade; "and so Randal was the wrong name atter all?" ,."4,y, she never said but 'twas wrong : bla'aeir- Phe waa Wan, and the lad ; hada right to hie chriateaed name." "And they left Jahn to the work- P house, his own flesh arid blood!" she cried; "and now they think to take him from we after all we have done for him, and he grown a fine lad, as well spoken as you could wish to see, and a good boy, Mat, though I say it myself " "Ala! But so fur as I can make out, they hev a right to en. Then there's his_prospera rreckon you don't stand in Phil's light, Martha, just to let him bide long with us!" "Prospexl what's prospex,"she cried, "alongside of a mother's heart?" Mr Meade thrust his hands deep into his pockets and frowned over this question; the candle burnt down, he lighted another, and the two went on discussing the question till hard upon midnight. d faller But Sir Arthur, he've got right over. the eb114, too, and 'tie plain eseplame we can't both hev 44444' only the lord himself can .iutifre be- tween us. I've tried opening the Bible ha :•batard, but can't light a nn 'What will serve the turn. Only come t 'Out of the months of babes and suck Hugs' twice, and it was borne in upo me that Philip must settle for hiniaelf. ° The argument was unanswerable and in much grief and trepidation Mrs Meade accepted the office of ac quainting Philip with the Choice tha lay before hint. "Lither tongues," Mr Meade con tinued, "was never meant for wen folk, Martha. I nevei was good a puttingwords to what's going on in aide o me. Think I can, as well as any man. But. darned if I can tel what I nt thinking,of. You.may mind the time it took me to come to the point when courting." I "To be sure, Meade," she replied, with feeling, '01 did think you was never going to say 'mum,' and folks knew I was ready to say 'budget,' and there was a laugh against me in WI the countryside. If you can't bring him on, Patty, you'd better throw him off,' cousin Jane heve said many a time; ‘if he had any nowt., he'd a 'known it was time to speak up long ago.' 'What ever we should have done if it hadn't been for grandmother's great gander, I don't know; kept wiverin' on till now, I reckon." "Right," replied Meade, gravely; "you're right, Martha, but even the grit gander would ha' been nothing without your tongue. I beat the en- der °WM ye, and you cried and clung on to me, and there I stood like a grit zote and•couldn't tell for the life of me what to say next. It did seem that simple to blurt out, 'Marry me, Mar- tha,' all of a sudden right in the middle of the common with the wild gender and all the geese staring and hissing at us. I'd a given ye a kiss but I had to keep my. eye on that gander all the time. Then you said, 'Please don't leave me, Mr Meade; I am that fright- en!' And that put it into my head to say, 'I'll never leave ye, my dear, if you'll promise to go church with me, afore two months are gone.' And se 't was done, but it drove the sweat out of me, and you was all of a tremble in a pink Sunday gown, and the church bells ringen. And the old gander kept on hissing and running, so I was forc- ed to keep my arm round ye all the way across common. I never hear a goose hiss but I think on 't," he said, pensively. "'T wasn't the first lead I gave ye, either," laughed Mrs Meade, brighten- ing at the tender recollections; "but there, courten is like a cool hand at pastry; its born with some, and there are those can't do it to save their lives. 'Mat Meade's that nog -headed,' Cdusin Jane used to say, 'I'd rather die an old maid than put up with such a dunce chap.' But I thought to myself, 'Matt Meade has a good headpiece enough, if he is wanting in tongue. I've enough for both. And courten is only wanted over a lifetime'" "I don't doubt things are ordered right," Mr Meade commented; "but it seems a pity the concern isn't done by the woman. I'd sooner unload ten waggons of floor than feel how I felt for months and months before your randmother s greatgander ran after " Any Wonean wieuld-ha' -done it - hat easyayou'd scareely know you'd en. Ihrough-anythiriga. their tongues wist and turn about like a well -broke,, teedermouthed filly." "Ah, well, 't was soon done and ver after all," observed Mrs Meade, egretfuly; "foolish times they were, 'm sure." "It's what all must come to," moral - zed Mr Meade; ',bound to be fullish nce in a lifetime is all mankind, You was a pretty,maid, Martha; not that I was one to be took by a pretty face," e added, severely, knowing that fe- male vanity dies hard. "No, my dear,. somehow seemed to set on ye, I did ot know why. Whether 'twas the airy, or the cooking, or the gpodness f heart, drew me on, I can't rightly ay. But I was that dull and drug the ays I didn't get a sight of ye. Bless me, how fullisla we went onl" he ex - 'aimed, suddenly checking this flood f tender reminiscences; for he was a man of sober thq,ught and staid de meanor, and kneav what was due to onjugal propriety and their advancin g ears. "What was I a -saying? Words s what I never could handle easy. I can heft anything you like to name Ith any man of forty; but when it omes to words, I'nit bound to make a mess on 't. Words come natural to he women folk. so you tell the boy, Martha." Thus it came to pass that Mrs Meade ascended the creaking stair wadi went nto the dim little attic in the ghostly wilight, her footsteps on the uncar- eted boards rousing the sleeping boy. "Mother," he cried, starting up, "I dna) take the plums, indeed I-didhaa." "Dear heart alive," said Mrs Meade, who s thinking of plums? I know who had them, my dear, and it wasn't you. You're never stinted in anythin that's good for children, so you woul not take plums, and youve never told me a lie yet, Philip.'; Philip lay, back on the pillow and wondered if the fowls had gotinto the garden when he left the gate open. "l3oys," said Mra Meade, giving him a kiss add carefully tucking in the bed clothes he had dashed aside, "are made' that lither and sprack they can't bide quiet long together, they're bouud to be in some mischief, tearing and siling clothes, upsetting and breaking things, and stabbing all over the house. I cri- .14 tt it it 44144 mikriced their isine'hed and often Iviclous, faces, and heard theta lige feel Words, once he had been taken to see setne ()neat the workhouse, once a man in °Imre had been tried for ill-treating a young workhouse 0 apprentice all he h etolen into the n stout little arm into that of the kinal 1 „ Curt to hear thecae% Re wOund his " gold who had been a mother to him, , and stroked the thick hair off his , forehead, Then she told him how . Matthew had brought him home one t night, that . he was of gentle blood and of an origin known to Sir Arthur, , who wished to educate him with his 'own sone. t All this, in spite Of her husband's . tribute to her eloquence and Philip's eager interest and frequent question - 1 jug, she effected not without difficulty and much digression and repetition. "But Mother what is my name?" he asked for at least the ninth time, for he was tired out, with eight evasive answers toithis important question. "My dear," she replied en thus being brought to bay, "it's little chance you have of keeping the Fifth Commandment with your poor mother in her grave this seven years. It's only her dying wishes you can obey, which is, you was to be called Philip Randal and ask no questions." Philip sighed; he had long since dis- covered that the whole duty of youth 'consisted ip not asking questions, and the whole interest and joy of youth in doing so. He gave Mrs Meade's ample form a tight squeeze and asked if he Was to be sent to Marwell Court to live. "Not if you don't want to go, my dear," she replied, tenderly stroking his hair on which the bright silver of the moon now shimmered. "Me and your father wants to keep you bad enough, but we can't bring ourselves to stand in your light, Phil. Sir Arthur would make a gentleman and a made man of ye." Mrs Meade went on to speak of college education and of the expenses reaching far into manhood, of launch- ing a youth in any profession. "Then my dear," she continued, "your father and me are plain people, though com- fortable, and we know manners as well as most; and I will say that for Meade, never a bad word comes out of his mouth, and always takes his hat off to his betters; and aggravating as Cousin Jane may be, while 'under his roof he's never nothen but civil to her. The worst he ever said was one Christ- mas time when Cousin Jane was un- luckier than ever I knew, and said things made me wish the vittles might choke her. "I could wish, ma'am, as smooth as cream, "your tongue had been made no longer than your tem- per. You'd ha' been a happier wo- man." She looked pretty straight at him, but it done her good. Your father's a good man, my dear. You never see him sit down to his meals without washing his hands. But he and me havn't got the manners of Sir Arthur and her ladyship. They're high folks with manners to match. There's manners and manners, same as there's plain sewing and fine needle- work, and there's nothen, no, not whooping -cough or scarlatina, catch- inger than manners. So you must think hard about, it, and perhaps you might put it in your prayers, my dear, to have a right judgment." -Witla-these-words and---a„-knat kiss and tucking -up, Mrs Meade stole out of the moonlit tetaic,Jeaving_Plailip in a fever of confused and agitating thoughts and bewildering feelings. He thought he should never go to sleep; he heard the tall clock on the stairs strike ten just as his mother left the room, but before her footsteps had ceased to echo along the boarded pas- sages, with his arms still flung wide, the sudden sweet sleep of childhood descended upon his tired eyes and re- mained there till morning. A few days later Philip, in his Sun- day suit and clean collar, with hair freshly cut and an odoilrof soapsuds pervading him, started for Maxwell Court in a high dog -cart, driven by a young groom, who was inclined to smile at the tender farewell which took place at the door. Philip looked back as long as he could see them with a sad, half -reproachful feeling; he seem- ed to be deserting. But this lowness of spirits was completely forgotten when he reached Maxwell Court, which he had seen many a time from a dis- tance but only once entered. 'On that occasion he was staying with cousin Jane, the wife of a farmer in the neigh- borhood, and arcompanied her on a visit to the house -keeper, who patted him on the head, which he did not like, and gave him plumcake and currant wine, which he did. That he might ever be master of that -fine building did not enter among the many thoughts jostling in his small brain as he swept up the avenue, past one wing and reined in before a wide porticoed entrance. Like a dreamier, he got down from, the dog -cart went up the steps and through doors magically flying open of themselves to dressed him. Here were tall splendidly gentlemen in colored velvets silk, and gold, their heeds more floury than those of the men at the mill at home; kind and polite in spite of their bewildering splendor. No longer Phi- lip Randal, thenaller's boy, but 0, fairy priectepenetratingto the heart of stnne dark erichantnient, he passed through a spacious and beautiful hall, with a shining marble floor, with pictures on the was and white figures poised on i?edestals like wingless angels ready or flight, with rich hangings half - shrouding doors and windows, and was almost startled when the hand- some lad who had played with him in the garden at home came bounding down the wide soundless staircase to redhive him. "Hullo, Randal, here you are at last," cried Claude, bringing the fairy prince from regions of dim enchantment to the solid earth with a bounce. "How ,are you? Come tb my mother's room." $ Philip answered him in a dazed way and followed him up -stairs and along thick -carpeted corridors to a room full of strange flower -scents and pale blue satin. "Lady Gertrude's room," (Maude said before he opened the dooa, in a low tone that implied like awe. 1 "This is Philip Randal, said, presenting him to t plai1il.-dressed lady recli °Pen witiddle. r..So you ere Philip," she ligu- hull* et. • ' ii CHAPTER II. THE FIRST TURNING POINT• All the next day Mr Meade pondered silently upon Sir Arthur Medway's in- terview with him, until evening came again, and the children were gone to bed. "The boy," he said to his wife; "i9 nine year old; he takes Ft threshing like a man, aye, and has the grace to be thankful for't. He knows already more book -learning than ever I known all my life. He'll tell you the Latin for a cow or a cat smoother than you'll print off your pats of butter, Martha. Tis but right he sheuld know how he was wine by and what he've got to look to. Let ea choose for hisseif." Mrs Meade- demurred at throwing a tespntisi,Jility mi a child of nine de like Wee d terrible when mine were took, but do think to meself at times there was ercy in it. For however I could eep the house decent with four stab- ling about, the Lord only knows." "I did mean to shut the gate," said hilip, "but I forgot." "Never mind the gate," my dear, but mind to shut him next time,' she ontinued, smoothing the sheet under is chin. "For a boy you've been a ood boy, and me and your father has ever repented taking you-" here Mrs eade's voice failed her and she took ut her handkerchief to Philip's dis- "faking me?" he said, after a pause; where from?" "From the workhouse," she replied. Nobody knew so much as your stir- arne when your poor Mother died nd left ye, and there was nothing for btlt th •ivorkheinie., If Matthew e Won,: andthou ht Of t 4 ID Rather," he beautiful, ing by the looking fumed face with her &fluty hana,white as a lily and soft as a rose-leat "No. ma'am, And I like ensalkyour bowie, though it's the biggest I ever was in." Hp? oryou like email lionises beet "Well, you see, ma'am, I've been use to small houses all my life," he explain ea, "and just at grist a big one feel strange, Besides, I didn't /mow tha people lived in such fine places:" "I hope you will be happy in ou house," ehe saia gracioludy: "Claude will show you everything. Run away now, bays, and don't /get into more mischief than you can help." Philip kissed the hand that was un der his chin with a natural unconsciolui grace that gave pleasure, and the boys left the tdem, Claude with an air of relief. "By Jove, Philip," he said,,when they were outside her door, "you'are made a conquest of her ladyship. "She can't bear boys." And taking aim to the library to Sir Arthur,he forthwith, to Philaa's surprise, described the inter- view with Lady Gertrude, at the recit- al of which Sir Arthur -smiled and pinched Philip's ear. "A born courti- er," he said, enigmatically. Then send- ing Clauda away, he spoke to Philip of his origin and his intentions concern- ing him, es Mrs Meade had already done. - "Your foster -father," he said, in con- clusion, "wishes you to do exactly what you like best. He is quite ready to give up all claims upon you, if you like to live with us and share my son's ed- ucation and other advantages. There is a pony for you already. You will go to school with Hugh till you are both ready for Eton. Run away with Claude now." Dismissing him with a wave of the hand, Sir Arthur dismissed the sub- ject as well, considering the event of Philip's preferring Stillbrooke to Max- well as too impLobable to be taken in- to account. The few days spent at Maxwell seem- ed months to Philip, everything being so new and strange. Claude and Hugh were capital companions. for a boy without brothers, the younger child- ren and the little girls, too, were com- panionable. There was so much to enjoy, such variety of games and pas- times. so many books, so many objects of interest, such space for play. Claude even had a gun, besides fishing -rods, cricket -bats, carpenters' tools and a boat. Their rides in the park were delight- ful; the pretty shy -eyed deer starting away from them, the pale gray mass of masonry everywhere showing itself in some new and imposing light, the large gardens, the home farm, the harriers; all either pleased him or impressed his fancy. He liked to go with the other children after dinner into the long drawing room, opening into a long vista of drawing -rooms, and glorified when he first saw it, by a blaze of sunset falling through the tall western windows; he wondered at the ladies' gleaming arms and shoulders, their jewels and silken clothes, and liked their gentle manners and refined accent. "Well, Philip," said Lady Gertrude, when he Stole up to a position behind her sofa just after dinner, "do yoirstill think this a beautiful houee? And what do you think the most beautiful thing in it?" _ "You, ma'am," he replied, without' hesitation, _tei the great amusement of some ladies staying In The -house, Who were near. It was a new wonder after this limpse of enchantment, to see the amiliar hedge -rows and fields float- ing past him in the summer sunset when he was di iven home again. He arrived just as dusk was falling; the lamps shone sparse and dim in the gray streets and were reflected from the bridge in the still mill -stream and there, under the plane -tree, sat Mrs Meade in her homely, familiar dress, with Jessie half -asleep on her knee, and issuing from the green shadows was Matthew himself. How glad they were to see him again how Jessie clung to him, and how pleasant and cosey the homelike parlor seemed with the candle lighted, the supper spread, and Sarah coming in with smiles of welcome. "Take your time, Phil, take your time," his father said after supper, when questioning him abont his visit; "mind, it's for life, so don't decide in a hurry. Philip looked in his face and i then n his mother's, and said nothing, but in his heart he decided once for all, "I'll never leave them," he thought. (3/3 88 CONTINTIND.) English Spavin Linament removes all hard, soft or callous Lumps and Blemish- es flora horses, Blood Spavin, Curbs, Splints, RingBone,Sweeny, Stifles, Sprains, S9re and Swollen Throat, Coughs, eta. Save 150 by ruita of one bottle Warranted the most wonderful Blemish Cure ever kuown. Sold by J 13 Combe. James Grain), seed merchant, of London, was found dead in bed on Friday. 6 6 ower There is a gentle - Dyspepsia. man at • Malden -on - the -Hudson, N. Y., named Captain A. G. Pareis, who has written us a letter in which it is evident that he has made up his mind concerning some things, and this is what he says: "1 have used your preparation called August Flower in my family for, seven or eight years. It is con- stantly in my house, and we consider it the best remedy for Indigestion, and Constipation we Indigestion. have ever used or known. My wife is troubled with Dyspepsia, and at times suffers very mdch after eating. The August Plower, however, te- lieveg tha difficulty My wife frd- qj1entIrSayst.u, t - Februa:ry Set Vgat What is 74 1"-a•:•°' • " e r.e4e, 1 , . *! :4. • 4J;L; ,7',7 Castor's 16 Dr. 8ainuel Pitcher's pre8Cr1ptISA.410* ThilIliti, Rad Obildren, Atcontains nelt4er 10Pluni;611017bble nor. , Sher Narcotic. substance. It 4s7, a hernsleal sUibstitUte for Paregoric, Drops, Soothinyrups, and Cast* 90, It is Pleasant. Its guarantee is 'thirty years" use.1„1 =lions of Mothers. Ca,storiadestroys "Worm, And 101170# feverishness. Castorla prevents vomiting our Curd, cures D hoem and 'Wind Cons. Castor's ,relievell teeth on s, cures constipation and flatulency. C assimilates the food, regulates the litOrloaeh and bowels, giving healthy and natural sleep. CaSe toria is the Children's Panacea—the Ilother's Fria d• ' Castoria. "Castoria Is an excellent medicine for chi!. Aron. Mothers Imve repeatedly told inc of its good effect upon their children." Da. G. C. OEGOOD, Lowell. Mass. 'Castoria Is the best remedy for children of which I am acquainted. I hopo they b Eft far distant when mothers will consider the real interest of their children, and use Castoria in- stead of Vie various quack nostrums which aro destroying their loved ones, by foreingeplum, morphine, soothing syrup and other hurtful agents down their throats, thereby sendiug them to premature graves." De. J. F. KINCHELOZ, Conway, Ar Castoria. " 1 recCeasuutrenhidisitsas°wseulperil adaoPrtedteattc1)ycillid pt asereritiptiontha4 known to me." 11. A. ASCITIER, 1st. a. ut Bo. Oxford St, Brooklyn, N. ' "Our physicians in the children's depart.. ment bavo spoken highly of their experi- ence in their outside practice with Castoria, and although we only have among our medial.' supplies what is known as regular products, yet we are free to confess that tho merits of Castoria has won us to look ',Mit favor upon it." UNITED Rosrrter. am, pitlrinutorrt - Boston, Me.44-. ALL= C. Burro, Pres., The Centaur Company, 77 Murray Street, New 'York City. 41111 RUMBALL'S LflLU FACTORY, lauron Igtreet, Clinton We have on hand an assortmeat of splendid GUTTERS .- AND. SLEIGHS Hi Which we guarantee to be of first-elass material and workmanship. gallf you want a good article at the priee of a poor one, call and see us. I. TJ1tJJ:4 -- CLINTON R IN EUR -----E- X41- E 0-1--E D ------ The Times Tea Warehou, IS THE ACKNOWLEDGED LEADING HOUSE FOR CHOICE CHRISTMAS and HOLIDAY GOODS, A full assortment extra selected Valencia Raisins, London Layers, Royal Clusters, Black Baskets; choicest and finest Filiatras, Patras and Vottizno Currant- New Figs and Fresh Dates. Finest Shelled ALMONDS, WALNUTS and FILBERTS, New CAN- DIED LEMON, ORANGE and CITRON PEELS, all of which will be sold at very low prices. We have the largest and best selected stook of FANCY CHINA, CROCKERY & GLASSWARE - In town. Dinner Betts, Tea Setts, Toilet Sess, at greatl, reduced prices. J.W. I RWIN, CLINTON Sole Agent for the noted Ram Lal's Pure Indian Tea, andifist Leon Water. A Real Genuine Cie Out Sale. Do you believe what is said in the columns of a ilOWS paper? If not, the quicker you prove it the easier for your pocket. We are going in for clearing out the balanc of our Fall and Winter Goode. Just look, a 800'11!CI-1 TWEIIaD SITIT Which w 3 formerly sold for 124 is now reduced to *18. Blacks that were 125 are now out down to 122.25. A GOOD OVERCOAT for $13, was $15 Come now, for two weeks is all we will cut prices. A Good Singer Sewing Machine for Sale Cheap. Walton : & ; ilfOrrison, SMITH'S BLOCK. CLINTON 1°Pclieg:crte" Remember the place W o Toy • • =NOWthe great value of our goode un- less you can see them. We have a line of MEN'S SUITS at V7,50, 1310 aria 812. Also MIMS OVERCOATS at 88.50, 89 and $10. YOUTH'S SUITS from 13 np that oan't be duplicated in value within 113 to 85 of these prime, and no where else can you get the faultless fit which characterize our clothing. Examine and judge for yourself. Remember that we keep in stock a well selected variety of the most fashionable in the Furnishing and Hat by• and Cap Department. Our Seaiette Goods are hand- some and away down in price. • GI GLASGOW, Searles Block, next to J. W Irwin's,. Clinton. ' — emenummimmemoisiolereemeemet E610iftS