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RECORD FOR SOUfH WALES.

POSITIVE SAUNDERSFOOT WITNESS.

THE "UNDEVELOPED LAND" OF…

SOCIETY FOR THE ASSISTANCE…

IMPERIAL SERVICE MEDAL.

[No title]

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JOHN FOX, JR., ON THE TRAIL…

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JOHN FOX, JR., ON THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE. March was openly gently, and so I should see ii, as the story puts it, giving place with lombre dignity to the passing burst of spring." Past June's boarding-house and John Hale's office my way had led, close to the old shingled school- house where the little girl went to school, and on almost under the shadow of the big beech where was her little play-house. Then into the mouth of the great gap which was bleak, gray, and suf- fused with misty blue, and on past Calaban's I moonshine cabin to a glangy little town whose 1 houses clung like swallows' nests to steep hillsides where John Hale was wont to turn toward Black Mountain and the pine of dreams, Looking for the real pine, I kept on to another little town where Talt Hall (alias Rufe Tolliver) killed him a policeman," There I swerved to the left of the county seat, where Rufe paid the death penalty for that killing and the Red Fox swung from the same scaffold and turned toward the wilderness of the Pound. A land agent was with me as com- panion and guide—a tall, broad-ahouldered fellow whose voice was slow and whose face was srnooth- ahaven and creased with tiny wrinkles of humor that meant a kindly heart. Where, in years gone by, we had ploughed through mud knee-deep between this town and the county seat,, the agent and I ambled corofortly along a macadamized road built by the government as an educ&tory suggestion—but only for a few miles for soon w'e turned up a little stream that is called Gues fe River, and the road of ages was again ours. Up the sluggish, steep-banked, narrow little stream, past mines and smoking coke-ovens and tUyough cleared bottom-lands to the first sign that. it was Saturdoy afternoon-.and the first sign. of the I chief occupation up that way—three met, squatted on the roadside, their faces flushed, their eyes stupid, and their heads wagging fooliably-moon- ¡I shine !-From On the Trail of the Lonesome Pine," by John Fox, Jr., in the October" Scribner," L

GIRLS OUT LATE. ?

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IRISH BEGGAR'S WAY.I

MOTOR-BOAT FOR LOBSTERS.

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[No title]

TENBY TIDE TABLE, OCT., igio.

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