. (S)
THE DALLES WEEKLY CHRONICLE, FRIDAY, JANUARY 1, 1892.
tk'e, fcASY's Bed.
"The baby must kavo a cradle,"'
The fair young1n!'3,J;JJ;,saJd; f, V
He must have a pl-JLUiveofl(Ta
To nestle his pnesjs. bead; ' '
He shall have admin? pillow,'
And a coverlet so'l aud white, '
And the lattice work shall be woven throu,:
With ribtens'tininty and bright."
. Oh, yes; he mufct have a cradle!"
Tho proud yoans father said.
As he smoothed with tremulous fingers
The pretty, curl crowned head;
"He will take a world of comfort.
As-hc slowly, sleepily swings.
' Half wakice and half dreaming, .
While his mother rocks him and Bings."
So planned the fond younz parents.
As they watebpd th'ei'r darling- grace
Yet they did notiuy a cradle
For tie bab)'!siresting' place;
But tbeybought-a tiny casket'
; As white as the'drifted snow,
And their hearts were well nigh broken
. Hfrith a sudden weight of woe.
And they laid the beautiful baby
In a bed of his very own, .
And strewed it with sjnilax .and lilies,
And roses whita-ad halfloii; :
And his pillow was'soft and rfo'wny.
The blossoms covered his breast.
And he slept and needed no rocking ,
To deepen bis quiet rest.
Lillian Grey in Good Housekeeping.
LIVING IN PAPER BAGS.
For he's going to marry Yum-Yum,
He's going to marry Yum-Yum, Yum-Yum,
He's going to marry Yum-Yum.
This last note is drawled out in a mis
erable attempt at a profound bass by.
the freshest, sweetest, clearest voice in
the world, aud is followed by a silvery
peal of laughter so like a bird's joyous
trill that for a moment I am inclined to
think it is only a continuation of the
chorus of the little songsters that have
been singing outside my window all
morning. But a moment's, reflection
convinces me otherwise, and I rise slow
ly from my desk, where I have been
struggling all morning with a perplex
ing account book; and glance ont of my
window iu the direction whence the
sound proceeds.
' It is one of the loveliest, sunniest May
days. The sky is cloudless blue. The
orchard is powdered with suovvy apple
blossoms, which last night's rain has
washed from the trees, and standing un
der them, rifling them of their remain
ing glories, aro my sister Genevieve and :
her devoted lover, Charley Somers. This
young man has been, to use the house
maid's expression, "hanging around"
Vieve for many months, and while he is
not particularly brilliant nor particular-
. ly wise, he is good and kind, and what is
more at least to us in onr financial em
barrassments rich.
Vievo has many admirers, for she is
lovely and winsome, but willful in the
extreme. At present her choice seems
to waver between this yonng man and
another a Professor Moore, in our col
lege which college is the pride .and. de
light of our village. The latter met
Genevieve last season at a famous water
ing place, whither she had been taken by
one of onr friends, a gay, worldly woman
who delisrhts to act as chaDeron to lovelv
young girls, as an excuse for mingling
in the gayeties of such places herself,
and then when the season is over allows
them to drift back to their quiet, dull
country homes and narrow, sordid lives.
Whether this is a wise or useful experi
ence for young girls I very much doubt,
but at any rate it has not spoiled Gene
vieve. She comes back to us fresh and
gay and smiling as ever; takes up the old
burdens with only an occasional out
break when some pressing economy is
needed, or something which she considers
especially mean has to be done because
there is no money with which to do better.
We are very poor. My mother died
when Vieve was three years old and. our
brother still a baby. To me these chil
dren are my life. For their dear sakes
no sacrifice is too great. Our old coun
try home is lovely and comfortably fitted
up, but when my father died, five years
ago, we found ourselves almost destitute,
with only the barest pittance for an in
come. This I am trying bravely to eke
out until our boy is old enpQgh' to put
his shoulder to the wheel. Anything to
keep the old home together and keep my
lovely young sister under my wing,
rather than send her out, in her beauti
ful freshness, to labor for her daily roe&i
and grow hardened in so doing.
We have the most absurdly ridiculous
nicknames. I was christened - Elanor in
the delusive hope, I suppose, that I would
grow up into a tall, stately princess, to
do credit and honor to the house. ''But,
alas! like many human hopes all vain!
To the whole neighborhood Miss Elanor
West is only a dumpy, stout little spin
ster, with glasses awry on her nose and
an everlasting account book in her hand. .
Later in life Genevieve dubbed mo Eye,r
because of my inordinate curiosity still
later Adam, because, she asserted laugh-..
T 1 i xi - i . e ' ' .1
ingiy, i uau uie cariosity oi Hive uuu
Adam combined. So this latter has
grown to be my constant appellation.
We have all sorts of quaint names for
her. The boy was christened Ethelbert,
but in my younger days, acting, as .a
mother to him, I called him "Treasure'
mostly. This soon shortened into
"Tredge" in our familiar, affecljonalaji
will be to the end of the chapter.
Glancing out of the window I
Vieve and Mr. Somers sauntering flow!
toward the house. She is bright and
gay he, moody and desperate looking.
Vieve swings, her broad hat carelessly'
on her arm, and I see that the wicked
girl has decorated the poor - young man
with apple blooms until he looks like Jt
veritable Bottom. But I 'also see that
he is fiercely plucking them off, and' as
they pass through the hall the floor is
strewn with the delicate, dainty things
which he has cast from him. She gives
me a wicked glance as they pass my
door, while he bestows upon me a courte-.
ous, cool very cool good morning,.
Miss Elanor," and hurries out th'rocgii'
the gate. Genevieve rushes in with a
boisterous:
"Well, Ad, who nesfr"
'-'Oh, Vieve," I say ruefuily, ""that
young man has gone and done it uguii;,
I know." ,
"He has, dear old Ad," she admit-?.
'But I think this time is the last. 1
would not, Ad I could sot be so mean
and small, you know."
" She throws herself at wy feet, her
head upon my knees, her eyes wander
ing out to the orchard, where, evidently,
& very tragic scene has taken place. She
goes on hurriedly: .
;I know I said if Charley isomers ever
proposed to ine again I would accept.' .1
know I said I was tired of - this pinching
life for" timidly, "you know it is pinch
ing, Ad, dear. I know I said I had heard
of the great inconvenience of living in
trunks I tried' that last season in the
mountains; even the leaser inconvenience
of living in bureau drawers. I know. I
said last week, when I came home from
Mrs. Graham's, with her elegant, artistic
! house and pantries stocked literally
i overflowing with the good things of life'
I said I could not endure living in paper
bags any longer I know I did; but, Ad,
I when Charley today offered me his hand
'. full, yes, full,l Ad, of every comfort
and.'-.luxury somehow," she says, hesi-
1 " 1 . .1 i . T ,.l X T J 'i. 1
why, but I couldn't."
Well, dear," I reply slowly, "if you i
don't love him" - '
"That's it, Adam," she says, positively,
"I don't and can't; so, dear old Ad, it's j
paper bags a little longer."
"All right dear," I say meekly; "if j
you feel that way, but if you could, you l
know of course, only if you could, how I
nice it would be!" . ; j
""Yes," she says, laughing merrily, I
"very nice, but I am afraid I offended
him this time beyond redemption. I am
afraid, Ad, dear," slowly, "I behaved
very badly, for do , you know there
rushed over my mind the picture of me
'toddling away on iny bedding day with
the lord high executioner,' and I behaved
yes, very badly, Adam. I don't want
Charley, Ad. I want nobody but you."
"All right," I say, teasiugly, "but take
care you never want any Moore."
"Adam!" she says, sternly shaking her
finger at me as she rises, with the faint
est blush upon her face, "if yon are ever
rrn i 1 T-rr nrr)in rtf om'h ion nrai T'l ltl ttit T
shall bring Charley right in sirid make i
...i.: ri 1 - , i
ily honor, and, better, our credit!"
The next evening, as it is growing i
dusk, I am sitting on the front piazza j
amid clustering vines, whose fragran; i
blooms are bending them down, waiting
for Vieve to come home from dress !
parade on College Hill. The moon is i
slowly rising, and I know she has wan
dered into a walk with some one of her
fervent devotees, and will likely come
home with another victim dangling at
her heels. I have scarcely thought this
until I see her approoching with two
victims Mr. Somers and Geoffry Moore.
How she has inveigled Charley into her
toils again, after yesterday's exploit, I
cannot imagine but there he is, and to
him she is chatting gayly, glibly almost
ignoring the stately professor who walks
gravely beside them.
I cannot shut my eyes to the difference
between these men, though one is rich,
the other poor.
Alas! that I have grown so mercenary
and little even over the question of my
dailing's heart! The one gay, debonair,
but shallow. The other noble, manly,
such a sure, safe protector and guide for
my wayward Genevieve; but then, those
little, cramping ills of poverty!
The night is so lovely that they sit
down beside me on the piazza, and now
sure that she has snared her bird safely
again she turns the battery of her irre
sistible forces upon the professor, and is
provoking, bewitching, exasperating, all
in one. breath. In some way the conver
sation turns upon rank and wealth and
their advantages.
"I shall never marry except for love,
of course," she says; "but then I never
could love any one but a man who can
give me all the luxury of wealth."
The first sentence evidently to snub
poor Charley. The last to frown down
any presumptuous advances on the part
of the professor.
"I -dp 'not believe that, Miss Gene
vieve," he says gravely. "You belie
yoursdlf, ' What good to a true woman's
heart are all the comforts and dainty
things" tflat Wealth can purchase if there
be no love? What good the honor and
rank of a thousand dead ancestors if the
present man be wanting in nobleness?"
"A great deal," she says decidedly. "I
should want to know that his family had
been" great 'and wealthy, for ages and
ages with old family portraits handed
down for generations coats of arms and
all that sort of thing. Why, even as to
ourselves," she adds with a curious twin
kle in heir eyes, "Ad, what is onr family
insignia our old heraldic coat of arms?'
This with a gracious, questioning
glance at mq, when she knows we have
always been nobodies. . '
"What did you say, Adam, dear?"
, "Oh, Vieve!" I stammer in reply, "why
pwilf you try"to turn everything into ridi
cule? You know I cannot '
'Ad," she says, "you are too modest.
You -underrate your own descriptive
abilities. Well! I can't describe, but I
can draw. Mr. Moore, will you kindly
V'lghd me a card and a pencil?" ,
And that gentleman producing these
articles, thatjajtdacious girl draws a very
ji
sr's paper bair and eravely
hands it to him. He glances at it in a
mvstified manner.
LontaA0,it'more perfect," she says
recklessly, "you mignt innate it a little
err little, wee bit. for there is very
5 little" in it, Ad, dear, isn't there?"
Three davsJater. Vieve and the pro
cessor have gone out riding. She was
Terydainty'iftoldng.'ahd gay when they
set out, but .to me his face had an an-jiBjijaxylooki-as
though he had made np
ms mina to risK ail ana try -tus rate, jay
heart is stirred to its depths, for there is
no light, shallow love to be easily set
aside. This man will never forget, and
rtieve will never wed poverty. : She
'cannot love tne ncn man, so win nave
c6ri of him:' "she does not love ah. is
that true? I am afraid she loves the
poor man but at all events - she will
not marry him. So there is nothing left,
as we children used to Bay when we
counted the buttons on our dresses, but
"beggar man" and "thief." God forbid!
They came in quite late. She has a
flush upon her smooth, round cheek, but
a troubled look in her eves. He is very
grave and quiet as he lingers on the
piaisa a few minutes. When he has
gone she comes in very quietly. . When
I assist her to remove her riding dress
she says: .
"Ad, dear, t!iis ride has given me such
a fearful headache that I c:imot see any
of those chattering boys tonight. Enter
tain them- for me, please, , won't you,
that's a dear!" s . "
This is all she says to uie", although 1
know there is something wrong, aad
late that night, when tho "boys" are all
gone, I ilud her with her fair head lying
iu the moonlight in the window. '
"Don't-light the lamp yet," she says,
as I coins in. "I. want to tell you, Ad,
dear. This hasn't been quite like the
rest," very wearily and adiy, "for I like
him very much, but oh, Ad, we have
been- poor so long. I could not wrong
you all so much by not doing better for
yon than this. But ho is true. Ad, so we
won't laugh over it, you know." Her
face is turned away from me a moment.
'.'Well, it is settled now, eo go to bed,
! dear. I will come directly..
Vieve," I began passionately, "if you
care for this man'don't wreck his own life
and his"
"Hush, Ad!" she interrupts. "It is all
over. I guess I'll have to take Charley
vet."
A week later Vieve and I are iu the
parlor reading when Professor Moore
comes in, very pahr, but resolute, to say
goodby. He is going away, he says, as
he found he could give up his present
position for a better, "and," he adds bit
terly, "this place has become unendur
able to me." . '
I glance at Vieve. She is deadly pale,
and the scarlet roses at her fair throat
are trembling. . He has but a moment in
which to say goodby, so I extend my
hand, feeling very regretful that we must
loss this noble, true friend.
Why will they ail fall in love with
Vieve?
"Miss Elanor," he says, his voice
slightly trembling, "I shall never forget
your grent kimlness to me. May God
bless von f0.r t!
see you again '-
I shall probably never
He pauses my hand trembles and I
turn away. '-
"Vieve," he says,, hurriedly, "goodby."
"Goodby," she says, her face very pale.
"I am sorry I know you can never care
for m&again I know you never will"
"Vieve," . he interrupts - gravely, "I
shall alwavs love 'you as I do now,
but"- '.'.'
"I know," she replies pettishly. "You
are disappointed with me. You thought
I was better, nobler, truer."
I am provoked with her. Womanlike,
she is trying to make him still think
well of her, even when she has bidden
him leave her. . ,
"Hush, Vieve," he says. "Goodby. It
is all over now." He lets her hand fall
and turns away to leave the room.
"Adam!" she cries passionately, "don't
let him go!"
I do not move. If anything is to be
done, she must do it. f
"Geoffrey!" she says softly, crimson
ing at her pwn audacity. He pauses ir
resolutely. "Geoffrey," still more softly
and going nearer to him.. "It is not all
over. I do care for you. Stay! I love
you very dearly and I am willing to be
your wife as you asked me."
' He turns and takes her in his arms., I
am softly crying to myself by this time,
for she is noble and true after all. -.
"I do love you," she says, bravely, but
her face is half hidden. "I don't mind
poverty with you." This with an in
describable, adoring look, which takes
away the last remnants of doubt the
young man ha3 left. Then she looks np
at hiiu with eyes full of laughter and
says, "I just love to live in paper bags!"
At t hat I leave in disgust.
Two months afterward they are mar
ried. But his little secret is out. He is
wealthy far wealthier than Mr. Somers,
and had only used this ruse to see if
Vieve was true enough to love him for
himself. When the wedding cards came
out everybody was a little mystified,
for, while very elaborate and costly, the
outside cover bore a quaiatdesign, much
resembling the ordinary paper bag used
by tradesmen generally: But being Pro
fessor Moore's r they were pronounced
"quite unique so artistic, you know."
But where did they ever get the idea?
Vieve casts down her eyes very de
murely and says:
"I can't imagine. Ad, can you?" Betty
M. Thomas in Pittsburg Bulletin.
An Unexpected Solntlon.
At a Sunday school service a clergy
man was explaining to a number of
smart little urchins the necessity of
Christian profession in order properly to
enjoy the blessings of Providence in this
world, and, to make it apparent to the
youthful mind, he-Said: '
"For instance, I want to introduce
water into my house. I turn it on. The
pipes and faucets and every convenience
are in good order, but I get no water.
Can any of vou tell me why I don't get
any water?"
He expected the children to see that it
was because he hod not made connec
tion with the main in the street. The
boys looked perplexed. They could not
see why the water should refuse to run
into his premises after such faultless
plumbing. . - 4
"Can no one tcl mo what I have neg
lected?" reiterated the good man, look
ing at the many wondering faces bowed
down by the weight of the problem.
"I know," squeaked a little five-year-old.
"You don't pay np!" Lippincott's.
Ihuifer of Theater Fires.
"It's a wonder to me,", says an actress,,
"that there are not more theater- fires.
Many dressing rooms have unprotected
gas jets, the long flames swaying with
every draft. Only the other night my
Gainsborough hat, loaded with feathers,
ignited and blazed to ruins on my head.
Then the girls are often so careless. In
the haste of quick changes a stub candle
is set up in its own grease on a wooden
shelf and often forgotten when the girl
rushes to the stage. "Of course there are
people around to watch for encli careless
acts, but it would not be hard to have no
one to see them iu time." Which is told
not to produce' disquiet, but to enforce
extra caution. New York Times. i
DECEPTION AMOKG. WOMEN.
I Why 51obauds and Fathers Are to Blame
for Sluch, Apparent Dishonesty.
i Since the field of , woman's work has
i broadened, it has been " discovered that
I the proportion of women clerks, cashiers
f and forewomen, who betray the trust re
I posed in them, is much less than that of
V male employes. : Opposite this, as if the
j purpose were to balance tho sins of the
sexes, we find the " simple proposition
I that, as a rule, women are more decep-
tive than men, but the deception is prac
! ticed either in small mat ters or in senti
j ment. , . ;
; If we eliminate love from the calcula
tions, woman is still the more deceptive
in small things. That is to say, she may
plead guilty to petit larceny, while her
big brother covers the entire gamut,
from grand larceny to murder. If this
were true, it is not difficult to account
for ; the. difference between . man and
! womanjjina, rue majority of women
i depend largely upon their husbands,
! fathers or brothers.' In the maintenance
f of the house and table; to say nothing of
j "personal" adornment, there are very few
! men -who place their purse at their wife's
disposal. Nineteen out oE twenty have
j'seen their mothers appealing to.the head
J. of the house for money that should have
; been given to her as hers by right. . ' .
Thel man's point of .view and the wom
an's point of view aro so far apart that it
takes time to bridge it, and as the wom
arl ' is; usually' the bridge builder, what
wonder' if she wearies, resolves to take
the shortest, and easiest way and prac
tices some small deception? Many a girl
with honest impulses, candid to a fault,
has, been mated to a man whose lack of
sensibility, sordid views of life, greed or
indifference changed the entire charac
ter of her life. ' She has kept her own
counsel and "managed" her husband to
the best of her ability. Is this excusable
deception? . -
Many years ago the judges in England
ruled that if a man had avenues of flight
open, no matter how sorely he might be
beset, to turn and slay his assailant was
murder, and many thousands were
hanged for preferring jo. kill another
rather than stand or be overtaken and
slain. - Of late the judges have changed
the ,ruling. The interpretation of the
law is different. Whereas in former
years no man , dare assail his opponent
until he was driven to the wall, now we
have the common sense decision that a
man need not flee from an assassin,
turning his back and inviting death.
He may face his opponent and kill him
rather than risk being killed. If this
ruling is just, what shall we say of the
men whose miserly practices or greed or
indifference deprives their wives or
daughters of the opportunity to enjoy
life within their means?
The best answer to the assertion that
women are more deceptive than men is
found in those families where the parents
do not discriminate against their daugh
ters: where it is assumed that the daugh
ters are entitled to as much money as
the sons, and the sons are taught that
the earnings of the minors are common
stock. The girls practice no more de
ception than the boys. ' They develop
into independent, fair minded women.
And they may be relied upon to preserve
their self respect and the respect due
their husbands.
. In the practical, everyday affairs of
life the equality taught by the master is
impressed in a manner that makes char
acter. And . characterless women are
the only companions that characterless
men are worthy of. Pittsburg Bulletin.
Three Ancient Trees.
Washington has three trees, each con
nected with some important event in the
laying out of the town of Washington in
1783. . The commissioners who made the
survey began their work under the great
white oak in the front yard of Judge
Andrews' old home at Haywood.
Through the following century this was
one of the finest trees in Wilkes county.
Another historical tree is the great pop
lar on the Alexander homestead. In 1790
the first ordination of a Presbyterian
minister west of the Savannah river took
place under that tree. This was Rev.
John Springer, a man of noted character
and talents, and who would have been
president of Franklin college had he
lived.
Finally, coming down later in time.
we reach the memorable debate between
Robert Toombs and Benjamin Hill in
1856? This was one of the greatest in
tellectual contests in the history of
Georgia, and will never be forgotten by
those who heard it. It took place under
an oak in the grove of Haywood. It was
followed by a typical barbecue of the old
south. Washington (Ga.) Gazette.
Two Bipede Meet. ...
A gentleman slowly sauntering down
Seventeenth street the other night was
startled by a shrill whistle that sounded
close behind him. He naturally stopped
and looked aronnd, but saw no one. He
started on, bat had proceeded only a few
yards when the whistle, louder - and
shriller than before, - - was repeated.
Again he looked aronnd, and again he
saw no one. . Then his heart misgave
him, for the hour was almost midnight.
Vague, unutterable fears clutched at his
soul, until his sleek locks grew to resem
ble the quills of that notoriously fretful
porcupine. .
But suddenly the mystery was solved.
He chanced to glance overhead, think
ing that probably, like the May Queen,
he had heard the angels call, when he
perceived a parrot in a cage that dan
gled from a second story window;. The
eyes of the feathered and featherless
bipeds met, and the parrot quickly and
appropriately remarked, "What are you
looking at, yon blamed fool!" Philadel
phia Record.
How Aeorns Are Eaten.
Acorns form an important article of
diet among many tribes of Indiai.
They are bruised into meal and made
into dough for breau. The meal is usu
ally soaked preliminary in water to take
away its bitter taste. Acorns are stored
away in trees by wood packers, and in
times of scarcity the natives rob these
deposits. Washington Star. .
THE DALLES MERCANTILE GO.,
- ' (Successors to BROOKS & BEERS.) '
The Dalles, - - - Oregon.
Jobbers and
faple and FanciJ Dfij Gjoodg,
Gents' Furnishing Goods;, Boots and Shoes,
V; '.. Hats and Caps. Etc.
Staple and Fancy Groceries, Hardware, Flour, Bacon.
. , ,r . Headauarters for
Teas, Coffees, Dried Fruits, Canned Goods, Etc.
HAY, GRAIN AN D PROD U QE
' ' Of aU kinds Bought and Sold at Retail or in Car-
1 'load Lots at Lowest Market Rates.
Free Delivery to Boat and Cars and all parts of the City.
39b 394: SECOIiTX) STEEET.
MAYS &
-SALE AGENTS FOR
flcon,'andChatetOak,,
STOVES AND RANGES.
Jewett's Steel Ranges, and Richarflson's ani Boynton's Furnaces.
We also keep a large and complete stoek of
-
Hardware, Timyare, Granite, Blueware, Silverware, Cutlery,
. Barbed Wire, Blacksmiths' Coal, Pumps, Pipe,
Packing, Plumbers Supplies, Guns,
Ammunition and Sporting Goods. '
Plumbing, Tinning, Grin, Repairing and Light
, Machine Work a Specialty.
COB. SECOND AND FEDCUAL STS.,
The E. 0. Co-Operative Store
CARRIES A FULL LINE OF v
Groceries, Family Supplies, Boots and Shoes,
-ALSO A FULL LINE OF-
Wapns, Carts, Reapers' and Mowers, ani all Ms of Jiricnltnral
Implements.
Corner Federal and Third Streets,
THE DALLES. - OREGON.
Farley
' (Successors to L.
manuraciurers
A General Line of
Horse Furnishing Goods.
ia:ErEA23ai3sra- promptly nd 3sraiAri3r idcustje.
' uniniMaiR nnii Mail TiRalnrs in Harness. Briflles. mil Horse BMets, Etc
II UU1VUUW UUM - . -
... . Full Assortment of Mexican
SECOND STREET,
Tirst Class
i UrfMt, Parte n Ftecot t tk World.
Pusaoger accomodation unexcelled.
IEW.T0RK7L0N00NDERRY AND 8LAS60W.
- Every Saturday.
NEW YOBK, GIBBALTEK and VAFLKH,
At rernlar . Intervals.
SALOON, 8EC0N0-CLAS8 AND STEER ABE
rates on lowest terras to and from the principle
800TCB, XH3LISB, BIBB ALL COOTnTIOTAL FUSTS.
Excursion tickets available to return by either the pic
tnreeqoe Clyde A North of Ireland or Naples ft Olbraftal
Sraftl as Koatj Oritn for Any Assist it lowMt Batw,
Apply to any of onr local Agents or to
HENDERSON BKOTHKKS, Chicago, ILL.
T. A. HUDSON, Agent. (
v . The Dalles, Or..
Dealrs in
CROWE,
THE CELEBRATED-
TBI DALLSH, OREQO
i& Pranls.,
D. Frank, deceased.)
OF .A T.Ti
Harnesses!
- j 1 i I m
Saflfllery, Plain or Staipei yy
THE DALLES. OR.
Pop Sale at a Bargain.
' A GOOD
Traction Engine
Has only been run sixty days.
Buffalo Pitts Thresher
Only used two months.
Chopping Mill,
Capable of 15 to 20 tons per day ; cos
$31.
The above will be sold on easy terms.
W. L. WARD,
The Dalles, Or.