6 THE TOWN O' DREAM. By a beautiful stream lies the Town o' Dream, On a beautiful summer plain, "With bells achlme a golden tim« To the tune of a golden strain. Tha road lies straight through a golden gate- Men call It the Tort o' Sleep- Where far below dim waters flow Through chambers cool and deep. O, fair and bright In the broad sunlight, Her streets and her greening bowers, And all day long a sleepy song Murmurs of love and flowers. And never a cnre can enter there. Nor trouble to cause annoy, There rest comes sweet to tolling feet And weary hearts And Joy. Now would ye know the way togo To the beautiful Town o' Dream? Ye must seek the god of the Land o' Nod, Ruler of things that seem. And drawing near with humble cheer Ye'll speak the Word of Kin, And if your mind is good and kind Ye'll freely enter in. I O. near and far his peoples are. And he rules them, every one, With a Pleasance deep and a Hod of Sleep At setting of the sun. By a beautiful stream lies the Town o" Dream. —Weary are we and fain; Come, let us try the portal high. And win our Town again! —A. B. de Mllle, in N. Y. Independent. My Strangest Case BY GUY BOOTHBY. Author of "Dr. Klkola," '• The Beautiful White Dcvii," "Pharos, The Egyptian," Etc. [Copyrighted, 1901, by >V»rd, Lock <& Co.} CHAPTER VII.—CONTINUED. "Mr. Fairfax," said he,"l labor un der the fear that you eannot under stand my position. Can you realize what it is like to feel shut up in the dark, waiting and longing always for only one thing? Could you not let me come to l'aris with you to-mor row?" "Impossible," I said. "It is out of the question. It could not be thought of for a moment!" "liut why not? I can see no diffi culty in it!" "If for no other reason because it ■would destroy any chance of my even getting on the scent. I should be hampered at every turn." He heaved a heavy sigh. "Blind! blind!" he said with de spair in his voice. "But I know that I shall meet him some day, and when 1 do—" His ferocity was the more terrible hy reason of his affliction. "Only wait, Mr Kitwater," I re plied. "Wait, and if I can help you, you shall have your treasure back again. Will you then be satisfied?" "Yes, I'll be satisfied," he an swered, but with what struck me as almost reluctance. "Yes, when I have my treasure back again I'll be satisfied, and so will Codd. In the meantime I'll wait here in the dark, the dark in which the days and nights are the same. Yes, I'll wait and wait and wait." At that moment Miss Kitwater made her reappearance in the gar den, and I rose to bid my clients farewell. "Good-by, Mr. Kitwater," I said. "I'll write immediately I reach Paris, and let you know how I ain petting on." "You are very kind," Kitwater an swered, and Codd nodded his head. My hostess and I then set off down the drive to the high-road which we followed towards the village. It was a perfect evening, and the sun was setting in the west in a mass of crimson and gold. At first we talked •of various commonplace subjects, 'but it was not very long before we came back, as 1 knew we should do, to the one absorbing topic. "There is another thing I want to get right with you, Miss Kitwater," I said, as we paused upon the bridge to which I have elsewhere referred. "It is only a small matter. Som»how, however, I feel that I must settle it, before I can proceed further in the affair with any satisfaction to my self." She looked at me in surprise. "What is it?" she asked, "I thought we had settled everything." "So far as I can see that is the only matter that remains," I an swered. "Yet it is sufficiently impor tant to warrant my speaking to you about it. What I want to know is, whom I am serving?" "I don't think I understand," she said, drawing lines with her umbrel la upon the stone coping of the bridge as she spoke. "And yet my meaning is clear," I returned. "What I want to be cer tain of is, whether I am serving you or your uncle?" "I don't think you are serving either of us," she answered. "You are helping us to right a great wrong." "Forgive me, but that is merely trifling with words. I am going to be candid once more. You are pay ing the money, I believe?" In some confusion she informed me that this certainly was the case. "Very well, then, I am certainly your servant," I said. "It is your interests I shall have to study." "I can trust them implicitly to you, I am sure, Mr. Fairfax," she re plied. "And now here we are at the church. If you walk quickly you will be just in time to catch your train. Let me thank you again for coming down to-day." "It has been a great pleasure to ,me,"l replied. "Perhaps when I re turn from Paris you will permit me to come down again to report progress?" "AVe be verji l<t fcea you," she answered. "Now good-by, | and a pleasant journey to you!" We shook hands and parted. As I passed along the road I watched her making her way along the avenue to wards the church. There was need for me to shake my head. "George Fairfax," said I, "it would require very little of that young lady's society to enable you to make a fool of yourself." CHAPTER VIII. Unlike so many of my countrymen I am prepared to state that I detest the French capital. I always make my visits to it as brief as possible, then, my business completed, off 1 fly again, seeming to breathe more freely when I am outside its boun daries. I don't know why this should be so, for I have always been treated with the utmost courtesy and consideration by its inhabitants, par ticularly by those members of the French detective force with whom I have been brought in contact. On this visit I crossed with one of the cleverest Parisian detectives, a man with whom I have had many dealings. He was most anxious to ascertain the reason of my visit to his country. My assurance that I was not in search of any one of his own criminals seemed to afford him no sort of satisfaction. He probably regarded it as an attempt to put him off the scent, and I fancy he resent ed it. We reached Paris at seven ' o'clock, whereupon I invited him to (line with me at eight o'clock, at a | restaurant we had both patronized on ! many previous occasions. He accept |ed my invitation, and promised to I meet me at the time and place I named. On the platform awaiting our arrival was my man Dickson, to whom I had telegraphed, ordering him to meet me. "Well, Dickson," I said, when I had bade the detective au revoir, "what about our man?" "I've had him under my eye, sir," he answered. "I know exactly what he's been doing, and where he's stay ing." "That's good news, indeed," I re plied. "Have you discovered anything else about him?" "Yes, sir," he returned. "I find that he's struck up a sudden ac quaintance with a lady named Mme. Beaumarais, and that they are to dine together at the Cafe des Am bassadeurs to-night. They have been in and out of half the jewelers' shops in the Rue de la Paix to-day, and he's spending a mint of money on her." "They are dining at the Cafe des Ambassadeurs to-night, did you say? At what time?" "I cannot tell you that, sir," Dick son replied. "I only know that they are to dine there together to-night." "And pray how did you find that out?" "I made inquiries as to who she was, and where she lived, and then pumped her maid," he answered. "You di«l not do anything that would excite his suspicions, I hope," I put in. "You ought to know by this time what women are." "Oh, no, sir, you needn't be afraid," he said. "I was too careful i for that. The maid and I are on very friendly terms. She believes me to be a Russian, and I've not de nied it." "It would be safest not to do so," I replied. "If she discovers that you are an Englishman, she might chance to mention the fact to her mistress. She would doubtless let it fall in conversation with him, and then all our trouble would be useless. You speak Russian, do you not?" "Ony pretty well, sir," he an swered. "I should be soon bowled out if I came in contact with a real one." "Well, I think I will be somewhere near the Cafe des Ambassadeurs to night just to make sure of my man. After that I'll tell you what to do next." "Very good, sir," he returned. "I suppose you will be staying at the same place?" "Yes, the same place," I replied. "If you have anything to communi cate, you can either call, or send word to me there." 1 thereupon departed for the quiet house at which I usually take up my abode when in Paris. The big hotels are places I steer clear of, for the simple reason that I often have busi ness in connection with them, and it does not pay me to become too well known. At this little house I can go out and come in just as I please, have my meals at any time of the day or night, and am as well cared for as at my own abode in London. On this occasion the old lady of the house greeted me with flattering en thusiasm. She had received my tele gram, she said, and my usual room awaited me. I accordingly ascended to it in order to dress myself for the dinner of the evening, and as I did so thought of the pretty bedroom I had seen on the previous day, which naturally led me to think of the owner of the house, at that moment my employer. In my mind's eye I could see her just as she had stood 1 on that old stone bridge at Bishop • stowe, with the sunset behind her and the church bells sounding across 1 the meadows, calling the villagers to . evensong. How much better it was, ' I argued, to be standing talking to ' her there in that old world peace, than to be dressing for a dinner at > an up-to-date French restaurant. ■ My toilet completed, I descended to s the street, hired a fiacre, and drove I to the restaurant where I had ar . ranged to meet my friend. The place 112 in question is neither an expensive nor a fashionable one. It has no > halls of mirrors, no dainty little - cabinets, but, to my thinking, you » can obtain the best dinner in all t Paris there. On reaching it I found my guest had been the first to arrive, i, We accordingly ascended the stair* CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, JUNE 26, 1902. to the room above, where we select ed our table and sat down. My com panion was a witty little man with half the languages of Europe on his tongue, and a knowledge of all the tricks and dodges of all the criminal fraternity at his finger-ends. He has since written a book on his experi ences, and a stranger volume, or one more replete with a knowledge of the darker side of human nature it would be difficult to find. He had com menced his professional career as a doctor, and like myself had gradual ly drifted into the detective profes sion. Among other things he was an inimitable hand at disguising him self, as many a wretched criminal now knows to his cost. Even I, who know him so well, have been taken in by him. I have given alms to a blind beggar in the streets, have en countered him as a chiffonier prowl ing about the gutters, have sat next to him on an omnibus when he has been clothed as an artisan in a blue blouse, and on not one of those occa sions have 1 ever recognized him un til he made himself known to me. Among other things he was a decid ed epicure, and loved a good dinner as well as any of his compatriots. Could you but see him with his nap kin tucked tinder his chin, his little twinkling eyes sparkling with mirth, and his face wreathed in smiles, you would declare liiin to he one of the jolliest-looking individuals you have ever encountered. See him, however, when he is on business and has a knotty problem to solve, and you will find a different man. The mouth has become one of iron, the eyes are as fierce as fierce can be. Some one, I remember, likened him to the great Napoleon, and the description is an exceedingly apt one. "By the way," I said, as we took a peep into our second bottle of Per rier-Jouet, "there is a question I want to put to you. Do you happen to be acquainted with a certain Mme. Beaumarais?" "I have known her for more years than she or I would care to remem ber," he answered. "For a woman who has led the life she has, she wears uncommonly well. A beauti ful creature! The very finest shoul ders in all Paris, and that is saying something." He blew a kiss off the tips of his fingers, and raised his glass in her honor. "I drink to her in this noble wine, but I do not let her touch my money. Oh, no, la belle Louise is a clever woman, a very clever woman, but money trickles through her fingers like water through a sieve. Let me think for a moment. She ruined Marquis D'Esmai, the Vicomte Cot foret, M. D'Armier and many others whose names I cannot now recall. The first is with our noble troops in Cochin China, the second is in Al geria, and the third I know not where, and now I have learnt since my arrival in Paris that she has got hold of a young Englishman, who is vastly wealthy. She will have all he has got very soon, and then he will begin the world anew. You are in terested in that Englishman, of course?" "How do you know that?" "Because you question me about Mme. Beaumarais," he answered. "A good many people have asked me about her at different times, but it is always the man they want to get ! hold of. You, my astute Fairfax, are I interested in the man, not because | you want to save him from her, but j because he has done a little some thing which he should not have done, elsewhere. The money he is lavish ing on Mine. Louise, whence does it come? Should I be very wrong if I suggested gems?" I gave a start of surprise. How on earth did he guess this? "Yes! I see I'm right," he an swered with a little laugh. "Well, I knew it a long time ago. Ah, you are astonished! You should surely never allow yourself to be surprised by anything. Now I will tell you how I came to know about the gems. Some time ago a certain well-known lady of this city lost her jewel-case in a mysterious manner. The affair was placed in my hands, and when I had exhausted Paris, I went to Amsterdam, en route if necessary for London. You know our old friends, Levenstein and Scliartzer?" I nodded. I had had dealings with that firm on many occasions. "Well, as I went into their office, 1 saw the gentleman who has been paying attention to the lady we have been discussing, come out. I have an excellent memory for faces, and when I saw him to-night entering the Cafe des Ambassadeurs, I recog nized him immediately. Thus the mystery is explained." He shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands apart, like a con jurer who has just vanished a rabbit or an orange. "Has the man of whom we are speaking done very wrong?" he in quired. "The stones he sold in London and Amsterdam belonged to himself and his two partners," I answered. "He has not given them their share of the transaction. That is all." "They had better be quick about it then, or they are not likely to get anything. It would be a very big smu that would tempt la belle Louise to be faithful for a long period. If your employers really desire to pun ish him, and &*\y are not in want of money, I should say do not let them interfere. She will then nibble nibble at what he has got like a mouse into a store of good things. Then presently that store will be all gone, and then she will give up, and he, the man, will go out and shoot himself, and she will pick up some body else, and will begin to nibble nibble just as before. As I say, there will be somebody else, and somebody else, right up to the end of the cliajJ ter. And with every on® she will prow just an imperceptible bit older. 15y and by the wrinkles will appear; I fancy there are just one or two al ready. Then she will not be so fas tidious about her hundred of thou sand francs, and will condescend to think of mere thousands. After that it will come to simple hundreds. Then there will be a* interval —after which a garret, * .vharcoal-brazier, and the morgue. I have known so many, and it is always the same. First, the diamonds, the champagne, the exquisite little dinners at the best restaurants, and at last the brazier, the closed doors and win dows, and the cold stone slab. There is a moral in it, my dear friend, but we will not look for it to-night. When do you intend to commence business with your man?" "At once," I answered. "He knows that I am after him, and my only fear is that he will make a bolt. I cannot understand why he is dally ing in Paris so long?" "For the simple reason that he is confident he has put you oil the scent," was my companion's reply. "He is doing the one foolish thing the criminal always does sooner or later; that is to say, he is becoming over-confident of his own powers to elude us. You and I, my friend, should be able to remember several such instances. Now, strange to say, I came across a curious one the other day. Would you care to hear it?" He lit a cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke while he waited for my an swer. "Very much," I said, being well aware that his stories were always worth hearing. [To He Continued.] ST. ELMO'S FIRE. One InKtnnce in Which «he My*terl on* I.luht Appeared In an tn inistnknble Manner. The phenomena of a phosphorescent Light at the masthead is one so rarely witnessed by others than superstitious sailors that it is seldom one finds an in telligent account of it. The following, by Rev. Dr. Mason, of Burma, is there fore of interest, says Youth's Compan ion: "On one occasion I wa» with others on board a small schooner at anchor off Tavoy Point, when a severe squall of wind and rain, accompanied by much thunder and lightning came on. "After the storm began to abate, we were aroused by a cry on deck: 'There is a ball of fire at the masthead!' We went up and saw, what is very rarely seen, 'the fire of St. Elmo,'or 'the fire of St. Elmo and St. Anne.' It exhibited an appearance quite different from all the descriptions I have read. Phipson says: 'Lord Napier observed the fire St. Elmo in the Mediterranean during a fearful thunderstorm. As he was retiring to rest, a cry from those aloft: "St Elmo and St. Anne!" induced him togo on deck. The masthead was com pletely enveloped in a blaze of pale phosphoric light.' "The St. Elmo that I saw did not en velop the masthead in a blaze at all, but it took the form of a perfect blaze of phosphoric light, perhaps a foot in diameter. It was not on the summit of the mast, but touched it on one side, playing about it when the vessel rolled, as a large soap bubble, a trifle lighter than the air. "After remaining some ten minutes the light grew fainter, and finally died out like a soap bubble." nor Whist I'layinjt Mninmo. Two little girls sat on the steps chatting over their dolls. Said one: "My mamma tells me lovely stories before Igo to bed. Does yours?" "No," replied the other. "My mamma is hardly ever at home when 1 goto bed, and when she is she is too tired always to tell me any stories. She has to play whist every day. She teaches it, too. I wish she didn't, be cause I get awfully lonesome and papa isn't home much, so I 'most always have togo to bed alone," and the little thing added, pathetically, hugging hex doll to her motherly little bosom, "when I grow up I'll never play whist. And I'll rock my little girl every night before she goes to bed." Here was a childish outburst of a stored-up sense of radical wrong in her life. And there are too many little hearts oppressed by this sense of deprivation. Put it is not alone the children who suffer from the whist fashion. It is responsible for more tantrums and breakdowns of over-wrought women than women's clubs' work or woman suffrage, or any other in-doors diversion of society.— Boston Transcript. Fee*, Sir Walter Scott's first client was a burglar. He got the fellow off, but the man declared that he hadn't a penny to give him for his services. Two bits of useful information he offered, how ever, and with these the young lawyer had to Vie content. The first was that a yelping terrier inside the house was a beter protection against thieves than a big dog outside and the second, that no sort of lock bothered his craft so much as an old, rusty one. Small compensation as this was.the first brief of the noted French law yer. M. Rouher, yielded still less. The peasant for whom M. Rouher won the ease asked how much he owed him: "Oh, say two francs," said the mod est advocate. 'Two francs!" exclaimed the peas ant. "That i 3 very high. Won't you let me off with a franc and a half?" ••No," said the counsel "two frwncs or nothing." "Well, then." said his client, "I'o rather pay nothing." And with a bow he left.—Gr«>en Pag. AI mo (iri'iiter Ability. "Do you think women should pro pose?" "No; the sport of making men pro pose is much more txcitiug and ei) jojaole."—Chicago Post. PUZZLE PICTURE. ''TH l (IV \ ri*i \ I II M I HlHl.il" WHAT IJOYf THE COLLEGE TRADE. Ail Enterprising (Jroeerymon'* Way of Increii-NiiiK Hi.n Mnlt-s (if Candy it nil I'ickles. In the neighborhood of a fashion able school for girls within the lines of the district, there is a small grocery store where the girls have been wont to wander almost daily for the pur chase of cucumber pickles, crackers and little tid-bits that all crave and are not included in the regular menu of the school table. Recently the pro prietor of the grocery store decided to sell out and return to his home in another city, says the Washington Star. After some advertising he met up with a probable purchaser. At first the prospective buyer was not par ticularly struck with the possibilities of the location as a grocery mart of profitable proportions. He was just a little doubtful, when the proprietor with the desire to sell brought out his trump card. "My good man,"he said, "there is the college trade you have not counted upon in your calculations." "What is the college trade?" in quired the newcomer. "It is Lively at all times," assured the proprietor, "and you will find it so." The "college trade" slogan carried the day, and the store was sold forth with. The newcomer was to pay half the purchase price down and the other half within two weeks, during which time he was to have the privilege of withdrawing from the bargain if the "college trade" did not prove all that was predicted of it. The new proprietor began business at the old stand in a very good sort of way, but during the first few days the I "college trade" did not materialize, i and he was beginning to grow un- ] easy. Occasionally girls came to the j store and looked around, but did not seem anxious to make purchases. One bright nv>rning there was a mis sive in the mail that brought joy to the groceryman. His face beamed with newborn knowledge, and he under stood for the first time the signifi cance of the term which had induced him to take the business —"college trade." The missive was a letter addressed to a girl at the college, in care of the grocer. In the noonday mail two other letters came. They, too, were ad dressed to college girls and the writing was of the bold, brave sort usually at tributed to men. The literature and religion of a people go hand in hand. AN AGE PRODUCTIVE OF THE BEST THERE IS IN RELIGION =================n WILL BE PRODUCTIVE AL- SO OF THE BEST IN LITER LITERATURE ATURE. The one but reflect, AND RELIGION THE GOVERNING SPIR- — IT OF AN AGE REVEALS By REV. GEORGE C. LORIMER, ITSELF IX ITS LITERATURE. Paslor Madison Ave. Bapti.t Church. W. Y. J iterature Q f anc i e nt Greece — ==^^==========^= and Rome was sensuous. Just as there was the nude in statuary so, in a sense, was there the nude in lit erature. We sometimes hear people talk of a revival of ancient ait, but those who express such sentiments do not know what the} aie talk ing about; they do not understand the spirit of the age in which we THE ART OF THE GREEKS WAS SATURATED WITH SENSUOUSNESS BUT WE, TO-DAY, ARE TRYING TO EMANCIPATE OURSELVES FROM SENSUOUSNESS. What good would it do to tell some poor wretch of humanity he says: "A power not ourselves which But tell such a man that God is our Father, gHpf -riiy Ipjpyj perhaps, all of us have a morbid desire to sec For the next two weeks the "college trade" flourished magnificently, and whenever the mail was heavy the pur chases by the girls were corresponding ly large. The grocer was delighted to pay the final installment of the pur chase money, lie adopted the system of placing the letters in the show ease where candied and sweet nothings were kept. Here the letters not only were easily seen by the girls,but the same time attracted their attention to dainty commodities with which the proprietor could be induced to part upon a slight consideration of so much per quarter pound. Things were progressing boomingly and the embryo post office was gaining in popularity daily. Things were com ing too easy to last, however, and a day or two ago the crash came. As bad luck would have it, the daily run of visitors brought to the grocery store a member of the college faculty. The member had been a girl herself not so many years ago, and while in the store her fancies led her to inquire whether or not candy was to be had there. The proprietor delightedly pointed the way to the candy showcase. But the beauty of the bonbons faded from the teacher's view as her eyes caught sight of a little package of let ters in one corner of the ease and she recognized on the uppermost one the name of a certain very pretty student at the school. "What means this?" she demanded, j as «n appalling hush fell over the scene. The grocer confessed. The girls are no longer allowed to patronize tile store. The "college trade" is but a sweet remembrance. There is no joy in the young grocer's life. The liiipnrtnnt Thin jr. "TTe told me it would probably bo | a bitter fight," said the man who had just been to see a lawyer. "But he convinced himself of the justice of your cause," suggested his wife. "Well, no; not right away." replied the prospective litigant. "He first convinced himself that 1 had money enough to make a fight."—Chicago Post. I,lke Mont Pelee. Every husband is a sort of Mont 1 Pelee, and though he shows syniptoma j of growing dangerous, his family re fuses to take warning.—Atchison Globe. Ilowery A monition. Jim (giving her a box of candy)— Sweets to de sweet. Kate —Tanks to de tank. —X. Y. Times.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers