Bellefonte, Pa., March 20, 1903.
RICHES.
Have you a little baby boy
A few months more than two years old,
With soft brown eyes that brim with joy
And silken ringlets bathed in gold,
Who, toddling, follows you around
And plays beside you near the hearth ;
Whose prattle is the sweetest sound
To you ol all glad notes of earth ?
Have you a little baby boy
Who, when the voice of slumber calls,
Reluctant leaves each tattered toy
And in your strong arms weary falls :
Who, yawning, looks with sleepy eyes
Into your own and faintly smiles ;
Then shuts his lids and quiet lies,
And drifts away to Dreamland’s isles?
Have you u little one like this,
Who puts all troubling thoughts to Hight
‘When, climbing up, he plants a kiss
Of love upon your lips at night ?
If so, then humbly bow your knee
And lift your heart in thankful prayer,
For you are richer far than he
Who, childless, is a millionaire !
—W. L. Sanford, in Galveston News.
A HINT FROM FATE.
At Fifth Avenue and Twenty-second
street, the left wheel of Remsen’s hansom
caught the right front wheel of another
cab. There was a block which grew into
a tangle, and for several minutes it resisted
the toil of three policemen, the ‘‘langnage’’
of half a dozen cabbies and the savage looks
of many coachmen and footmen who did
not dare utter their thoughts. Remsen was
practically face to face with the occupants
of the cab—an elderly woman and a girl.
‘‘Now, she looks like the right sort,”
thought he, as he examined her frank, self-
reliant face. She was plainly not a New
York girl—he saw it at the first glance of
his New York eyes. Not because she was
not tastefully dressed, for she was, not be-
cause her expression was unsophisticated,
for it was not ; perhaps because it was
sophisticated without being subtle. “I
should like to know her,”’ continued Rem-
sen to himself. ‘I wonder who she is,
where she’s from, where she’s going.”’
The longer he looked, the more he was
attracted. It seemed to him that he had
never seen a woman with so much person-
ality, who so patently showed that what
she would think and say and do and feel
wonld be interesting.
Just as the tangle straightened, a small
bag toppled from the pile of trunks and
bags on the roof of the cab, struck the
dashboard of the hansom, opened. Out
came a delicate odor—a freshness, rather
than a perfume—and a part of some femi-
nine article made of ribbon and lace and
very thin, fine linen. Remsen seized and
repacked the bag, stood up and restored it
to the roof of the cab. He bowed, lifted
bis hat, received and returned a polite
smile. His hansom whirled on down the
avenue, the cab was gone, the incident was
Slued. but he continued to think of the
girl.
*‘If IT could only meet her, and she did
not know who I was, she might like me
for myself, and I might like her, and—— ’
As the doors of the hansom separated, a
card fell to the floor. He picked it up,and
read : ‘‘Miss Susanna Forrester, Mon-
terey, Ohio’’—the name engraved, the ad-
dress written. He put it in his pocket.
‘‘A strong hint from Fate,” he said to
himself.
He was still romancing when the stop in
front of his banker’s in Broad street
brought him back to fact.
The president of the bank looked up
from a letter he was reading.
‘‘Good morning,” he said. ‘‘You don’t
happen to know a bright, young fellow
who is competent to take charge of the
electric-light plant, in a town of fifteen
thousand inhabitants, at tweive hundred a
year ?”’
Remsen instinctively glanced at the let-
ter—he could not avoid seeing the letter-
head : “First National Bank of Monterey.’
‘Monterey, Ohio?’’ he asked.
“Yes, our correspondent there asked us
to recommend a man.”’
“I think I’ve got him,’’ said Remsen.
‘‘Hold the place until tomorrow.’’
Again, in the bansom, he began mutter-
ing to himself. ‘‘The tangle, the girl, the
bag, the card, the bank, the letter, the
place’’—the last seemed the most signifi-
cans link in the chain of Fate ; for, thanks
to his natural bent and his father’s theory
that every one should know a trade, he was
an expert electrician. But the deciding
Sactor was disgust with the posture of his
ife.
. Although he was a rich, good-looking,
intelligent, young man, he was generally
avoided. He was exacting in his demands
or expectations of consideration from others.
He was uneasy lest his view of his own
merits was peculiar to himself, perbaps
even there a delusion. He was morbidly
suspicions that consideration was given,
not to himself, but to his fortune. What-
ever theory of life and human nature a
man adopts is sure to be confirmed; and
Remsen’s theory had a basis in the dis-
position of very many of his fellow beings
to think more of what a man has than of
what he is—what a man has is obvious,
what he is must be searched for. Remsen
refused to accept these conditions at their
true importance, or lack of importance.
Instead of taking the gifts of the gods, he
insisted upon scruntinizing them with a
prejudiced eye and refusing them. He got
the name of being capricious, rude and
stingy. His circle of tolerators narrowed
to two classes—those who felt honored hy
being permitted to associate on any terms
with a man of wealth ; those whose hope
of favors was so hardy that no extremes of
heat or cold could kill it,
Remsen was one of those men who, when
disaster befalls, and they happen to catch
and arraign the true culprit, self, promptly
acquit him after a trial. At twenty-eight,
he had made up his mind that he was a
lofty character condemned to choose loneli-
ness or association with snobs and syco-
phants. In the midst of abundance and
with a vigorous appetite, he was starving
for friendship, sympathy and love, because
he fancied poison into everything.
He was ashamed of the scheme that
evolved in his brain round the ‘‘hint from
Fate’’—it suggested the sort of romance
that is ridiculous, the plot of a ‘‘back-
stairs’’ novel. But he was desperately
bored. He had an adventurous streak,and
he longed to find ont what estimate would
be put on him as a ‘man—Ilonged to win
friends and, perbaps, a woman whom he
could be certain was not influenced by his
money. He was morbid above all on be-
ing married for his money.
e returned to the bank the next morn-
ing and, after he had convinced the presi-
dent that he was neither jesting nor in-
sane, got the position and a promise that
Monterey should know him only as an eleo-
trical neer,
When be had accustomed himself to the
routine of superintendent of the Monterey
Electric Company, he began to feel rather
absurd. He rapidly expanded under the
influence of his freedom from suspicion
his fellow beings ; he liked to know that
he was making friends and winning
of nis own merits, and that he was defi-
nitely useful to society. but the nearer he
came to ‘Mise Susanna Forrester’ the
stupider and sillier his escapade seemed.
He had met the family—she was visiting
in Cincinnati and was not expected for sev-
eral weeks.
‘“‘You can’t count on Susan,” said her
brother. ‘‘She was due here a month ago.
But she may not come home _.il summer.
The old folks give her a free rein—or she
takes it.”
Remsen was only mildly interested ; still
he felt that it would net do harm to wait
until she returned before giving up his
place, provided she was not too long about
her loose-reined gallop over the country.
A telegram came from Dayton ; and a
few hours thereafter Susanna ‘‘blew in,”
to use her brother’s phrase. Everybody in
the town knew it at once, and the com-
ments made Remsen think that not family
vanity, but simple truth, was expressed in
her brother’s proud observation : ‘‘Now
you’ll see the dead wakeand the dry bones
rattle.”
The town bad been reserving ‘‘the new
young man’’ for Susanna, and the evening
alter her arrival he was marched up to be
conquered.
He did not in the least like her, now
that he could judge her thoroughly —to he-
gin with, she lacked repose ; and repose
must be the prime quality in any woman
whom he could think of honoring with an
offer of marriage. Slender and tall and
highly, though delicately, colored, with
restless, inquisitive gray eyes, and a dress
that clung in a curiously individual way
to her long, nervous arms and legs—as its
plumage fits a bird—she was apparently
always on the verge of flight to a new
perch, perhaps toa new clime ; and she
talked rapidly, ina low voice, did not
finish ber sentences and did not let others
finish theirs. It made Remsen nervous to
watch her, made him yearn to take her by
the shoulders and bid her be quiet.
He showed his uneasiness so plainly that
her brother said : ‘Do sit tight, Sue.
You’re giving Remsen the fidgets.’’
Susanna turned upon Remsen a search-
ing, quizzical glance—it was he that ‘‘sat
tight ;’’ she continued as before.
‘Clever, witty, but very disagreeable—
spoiled,’’ was Remsen’s verdict. But he
felt that it would be amusing to him, and
possibly profitable to ber, to give her a few
practical lessons—he ought not to leave
Monterey too abruptly.
They met almost every day in the free
way of that western town. He never left
her without a ‘‘session’’ with himself after-
ward—he always talked and acted before
her in a manner the reverse of what he had
planned ; instead of dominating her, he
was dominated ; and be often caught him-
self adopting her views, even her man-
nerisms. She criticized him with a frank-
ness which he did not resent until he bad
left her—at the ‘‘sessions’’ he denounced it
as sheer impudence. Also, she lured him
to talk much of himself—led him on to
make conceited remarks—then laughed at
him mercilessly. But he had his revenges
—she was an arrogant young person who
found it hard to remember that she was
one of the ‘‘flies clinging to the orange.’
Upon this basis of skill at wrangling,
they became intimate, delighting to meet,
even though they had separated the day
before, each exasperated by the other's
stings and stabs.
One evening—--a moonlit evening when
most of the young couples of Monterey
were about peacefuller business---they car-
ried their game of parry and thrust too far.
It was not his fault, for she was in an un-
usually aggressive humor---reckless.
But he happened to be first to reach and
cross the boundary of politeness.
With one of her swift movements, she
faced him. ‘‘Why cannot you come into
the open ?”’ she cried.
‘‘Be frank---say that you hate me!’
‘‘But—no—not exactly—that is——’’ he
stammered. He was taken off his guard.
It was his first frontal attack.
‘Say it!” she commanded. drawing
herself up, imperiously.
*I—I love you, Susanna.”
She gasped, and stared at him.
‘Yes, that’s it,”” he went on, doggedly,
angrily. ‘I bate myself for it. I don’t
understand it. Everything you say and
doseems to irritate me. And I know you
care nothing for me. But—there it is—I
love you.”
Instead of scoffing, as he expected, she
laughed in a queer, abrupt way and began
to walk again. ‘‘You did give me a turn,’
she said. = ‘‘You’re the last man I should
have suspected of—of that sort of thing.’
“I often wonder,” he said, gloomily,
‘‘what makes you so hard, so lacking in
tenderness. I never before met a woman
who didn’t bave some sentiment—or pre-
tend to have it.”’ He looked at her, and
suspected a trick of the moonlight, her
face was so changed—so gentle and sweet.
Presently her eyes sought his, and she said
in a friendly, frank tone: ‘I’m going to
tell vou something---I owe it to youn to tell
you now. It is my secret—yon under-
stand ? You have heard them speak of
Mr. Drummond ?”’ :
“The cashier of the bank who's in Col-
orado for his health ?”’
‘‘Yes. We are---engaged."’
‘‘Why—he’s an invalid---a——?’ he burst
out, impulsively. Then: ‘I beg your
pardon.”’ :
‘*We are engaged,’’ she repeated. ‘‘We
shall be married in the fall,on his return.”
Neither spoke until they were separating
at the door. He had been inwardly raging
against the obstacle thus suddenly reveal-
ed. And now it seemed to him that she
was leaving him, not merely until the
next day, but forever.
‘You mustn’t---you mustn’t,’”’ he ex-
claimed. ‘‘Listen to me, Susanna,I’m not
the poor devil of a superintendent you
think. I’m rich, very rich, I can give
you everything. I can make your life
omy
There he was halted by her expression-~-
she looked as if he had struck her in the
face. Her eyes danced with angry mirth,
and her lips curled in contemptuous rid-
ionle.
*‘You are irresistible I” she said. She
made him a low cartsy. ‘‘Good night,
Fairy Prince, hut do put on your disguise
again. Ts becomes you better than your
natural self.” She laughed. ‘‘What a
tempter you are I’ she said, and went in-
to the house.
He wrote his apology that night, and
sent it early the next morning: ‘‘Forgive
me. I was desperate. I am desperate.
You know that I did not really think such
a thing could influence you. But I love
you so that, even if I knew it would win,
not you—for no one could be won by that
—but just the nearness of you, the sound
of your voice, the light, no matter what
kind of light, of your eyes ; yes, I would
buy you, if I could—or steal you, if I
could. Do you despise me? Well, so do
I despise myself ; but I love you."
And she answered : ‘Yes, I forgive you.
I’m vain enough to like what you wrote ;
of |and I'm honorable enoogh to refuse to
listen to any more of it.
the last of the week.
fore I go. Good-by.
I'm going away
I'll not see you be-
1 shall miss our
quarrels.”
He and brother ‘‘Tilly’’--the short for
Tillinghast—became inseparable. Tilly
liked to talk of her, would quote whole
pages from her letters about her adventures
on journeys and in towns where she visited.
It made Remeen sad to hear, because she
seemed gay—withont care. And yet, when-
ever he was gloomiest, Hope would stir
faintly in its coffin, to show that, though
buried, it was buried alive.
‘‘I wonder whom Susan’ll marry, and
when,” Tilly said to him, early in Sep-
tember—every hour of every day Remsen
was thinking of her as getting ready for
the wedding. ‘‘She wouldn’t let any of
em be serious, except Drummond. There
was no stopping him ; he was mad about
her, and appealed to her sympathies. Sue’s
very tender-hearted, though nobody’d sus-
pect it.”’
‘‘Drummond—he’s the cashier, isn’t he ?
When's he coming back ?”’
Tilly laughed. ‘Never, I guess. He's
got a place out there, and is to marrya
rich widow. He got over Susan, appar-
ently.” !
Remsen intercepted her at Boston. She
came down to the drawing-room ; yes, the
same Susanna, restless, satirical, slender,
with her dress clinging to her in the same
graceful, individual way.
*‘I heard about Drummond,’’ said Rem-
sen, ‘‘and so—here I am.”
‘‘How good of you !”’ she said, raillery
in her eyes and smile, exaggerated enthu-
siasm in her voice. ‘‘But you always were
80 good, and so tactful.”
**Yes,”” he went on, boldly.
for the jilted lady.’
‘‘And, of course, she'll gratefully go
with yon.”
‘Of course.”’ He stood so close to her
that their faces were almost together. They
looked each into the other's eyes—her lips
were very near his. ;
‘*Well,”’ she said, ‘‘why don’t you ?’’
‘I was waiting for you to ask me,”’ he
replied. —By David Graham Philip, in the
Cosmopolitan. ;
‘‘I’ve come
The Dreaded Rabies.
An 8-Year-Old Boy Succumbs to an Attack Thereof.
Henry 8. Loomis, the 8-year-old son of
Dr. and Mrs. Henry P. Loomis, of New
York, died Saturday at the home of his
parents of hydrophobia, caused by the bite
of a pet spaniel. Henry bad a pet dog, a
King Charles spaniel, which seven weeks
ago was bitten by a strange dog in the
street. Four weeks later Henry was romp-
ing with his pet dog in the basement. The
spaniel grew weary of the game and curled
himself up in a corner of the areaway,
growling and grumbling. The boy picked
him up to carry him into the house. The
butler opened the door. The dog, with-
ont warning, sank its fangs into the hoy’s
cheek. It also turned on the butler and
bit him. The wounds of the man and hoy
were cauterized and they were inoculated
with the Pasteur serum.
Young Henry Loomis complained Thurs-
day of pains in his head and trouble with
his jaw. He was too ill to get out of hed
and Dr. Loomis immediately sent for Dr.
L. A. Stinson. The boy’s case was diag-
nosed as the dreaded rabies. He suffered
many and violent convulsions, which weak-
ened him so much that it was realized by
the physicians that there was no hope for
him. His death was painless and he pass-
ed away under sedatives like a worn out
child falling asleep. Dr. Stinson issued
the following statement :
‘“‘Henry S. Loomis, 8-years-old, was bit-
ten in the face by a pet dog three weeks
ago. The dog had been bitten seven weeks
previously by a dog in leash.
‘“The first symptoms appeared two days
ago and the child died Sunday. Treat-
ment by inoculations had been promptly
begun after the bite, but sufficient time for
the completion of the inoculation had not
elapsed. He was under the influence of
sedatives and died without suffering.”
Dr. Stinson would not give the name of
the butler who was bitten. The man has
shown no signs of illness yet.
Two Stitches in His Heart,
Boy Falls on Broken Bottle, but Doctor’s Prompt
Action May Save His Life.
Seven-year-old Charlie Bauer, of San
Francisco, whose heart was penetrated by
a jagged fragment of a wine bottle, has had
two stitches taken in that organ and will
recover if blood poisioning does not set in.
The boy was running along a paved walk
in his back yard with a broken bottle in
his hand when he fell he and the sharp edge
of the bottle,four inches long and keen asa
spear, penetrated just under the diaphragm,
a little to the left of the centre of the body,
cutting through the walls of the abdominal
cavity, just grazing the top of the stom-
ach, ranging upward through the dia-
pbragm and cutting a elit a little more
than a quarter of an inch wide through
the base of the heart. There was a slight
penetration into the. lung.
Dr. McLaughlin found the boy appar-
ently dead. Removing the little fellow to
his office, two blocks away, the doctor ad-
ministered salt injections and produced
respiration artificially. Then he cut be-
tween the ribs and took two stitches in the
heart. A gauze packing was used to stop
a hemorrhage of the lung. If the hoy re-
covers the case will be noteworthy.
15,000 Head of Cattle Lost in Recent
Storm.
The reports of the death of many cattle
by starvation in Western Kansas and East-
ern Colorado a week ago are being con-
firmed. In one county 3,000 head of cattle
starved because the earth was covered by
snow to a depth of twenty inches. It is
estimated that the plains of Western Kan-
sas are strewn with carcasses of 15,000 cat-
tle. During the past week 1,000 men have
been busy removing the hides from th
dead animals. 5
——*‘I never see a red feather that I
don’t think of an old Indian I met out
West three years ago,’’ said Arizona Pete,
an ex-cowhoy, who has settled down to
peaceful pursuits in the City of Brotherly
Love. “‘It was this way. He was stand-
ing before his tepee, and seeing he had a
| little red feather I asked him what it was
for. I have forgotten to tell you he wasa
great medicine man. He went through a
long lingo, more or less mysterious, and
when I asked him to bring it down to my
ordinary, whiteman intelligence he said
heap good catch squaw.’ I see only the
ladies wear them in these parts, and so I
can but suppose that this modernized love
potion works both ways.’
New Form of Entertatnment.
Suggestions For “Proposal,” “Gossip, ’ “Spinster’
and “Baby Parties.”
The successful hostess of to-day muss
provide for her ts something more than
the conventional dinner, reception, launch.
eon, card party or dance of the day of our
grandmother.
It is the indoor functions which tax
milady’s ingenuity and originality; the
summer diversions, consisting of garden
fetes, launching excursions, picnics and
porch parties, are not difficult to arrange.
inter and autumn are the strenuous sea-
sons of the ambitious hostess.
The cotillion, or old-fashioned german, is
always a delightful form of entertaining a
large number of people, and always may
be made clever and original by the selec-
tion of favors. Each season and holiday
brings its new figures for use in the cotil-
lion. For Christmas or Valentine’s Day,
Thanksgiving or Washington’s birthday
celebration nothing is so appropriate or so
easily arranged as a cotillion. This form
of entertainment is more or less expensive,
but it need not be elaborate 1 be success-
ful, and often two or more people entertain
together, sharing the expeuse.
An amusing evening may be spent at a
gossip party. For this an even number of
girls and men must be present, each re-
ceiving a card with a numbered liss of sub-
jects for conversation written upon it—a
lively piece of social news of the day, the
announcement of a certain engagement, a
striking or conspicuous costuwie in which
“Mrs. S. and So’’ appeared recently, or
anything which might be discussed for a
few minutes. There must be as many sub-
jects as couples.
About the various rooms the hostess has
arranged tete-a-tetes, each with a number
above it. Each guest is asked to draw a
number from a receptacle of some descrip-
tion, there being duplicates of each num-
ber, one for the man and one for the woman.
These numbers are matched with those
above the tete-a-tetes, until each guest has
a seat and a partner with whom to gossip.
When everyone is seated the hostess taps a
bell and announces the first topic on the
card, and for five minutes that particular
bit of news is discussed. Again the mis-
tress of ceremonies rings her hell and reads
the second subject aloud. Each man then
says an revoir to the girl with whom he
has been talking, and moves to the next
number, to gossip about the second sub-
ject. This continues until the subjects are
exhausted, and at the same time each man
bas talked with every girl in the party.
Pencils and slips of paper are distributed
at the conclusion, and the girls write the
name of the man who has gossiped with
them most entertainingly. The men do
likewise, and the prizes are given to those
voted most proficient in the art ,of gossip-
ing. .
This form of entertainment may be made
pretty and picturesque by giving a garden
or out-of-door effect to the rooms. Palms,
flowers, hammocks, porch chairs and other
outside accessories scattered about over a
green canvas floor covering or imitation
grass rugs lend a pretty lawn party effect.
In case the latter idea is employed the in-
vitation may read ‘‘A Gossip Garden
Party,’’ a more or less startling invitation
in the midst of winter. Summer gowns
add to the warm weather effect of this sort
of entertainment.
Proposal parties are new and clever when
properly introduced. The hostess, when
her guests have arrived, informs the men
that they must propose to every girl in the
room within a stated period of time. She
also tells them they must do it in proper
style, and take her off to one of the cosy
corners or secluded nooks she has arranged
about the rooms. She then takes her
woman guests aside and gives each of them
half as many little red hearts of paper,
flannel, silk or any convenient material, as
there are men in the party. She also gives
each girl an equal number of tiny white
mittens.
At the signal of the hostess every man
selects a girl and asks her to marry him,
pressing his suit until he is forced to ieave
her by the jingle of the hostess’ bell. He
then proposes to another girl, and so on
until he has laid his heart at the feet of
every one in the party. The girls dis-
tribute the hearts and mittens, a heart for
a well-told confession of love, a mitten for
the less impressive tale.
At the end of the stated hour the men’s
collections of hearts and mittens are count-
ed and prizes are given them. The men
with the largest pile of mittens is consoled
with a pair of white woolen mittens.
The men fare best at a proposal party,
as the prizes go to them.
For an afternoon entertainment a ‘‘Spin-
sters’ at Home’? is a good idea. Each guest
arrives attired in her grandmother’s gar-
ments, and with an abundance of bair
hanging about in corkscrew curls, or equal-
ly ancientstyle. She may wear hoops and
walk with tiny mincing steps, or she may
have a powdered wig, patches and much
beflowered and beruffled gown. In any
case, she must represent the spinster of
whom we read and, if she likes, may bring
with her a parrot, or a cat.
After she has ‘‘put by’’ her bonnet,
straightened out her flounces, and adjusted
her spectacles, each guest gets out her
“knitting’’ and over iv each spinster must
tell how it happened that she never mar-
ried.
Afternoon tea and prizes for the best
romance concludes an entertainment of this
kind.
Young girls enjoy a ‘‘baby party’’ when
they all appear in short frocks carrying
their dolls, and spend the afternoon talk-
ing over their mud-pie days.
If one must adhere strictly to the fixed
rules of etiquette, a girl’s mother must an-
nounce her engagement, but often pretty
little parties are given by the girls them-
selves to make their approaching marriage
know. It is a trifle unconventional to an-
nounce one’s own engagement, and still
more so to allow a girl friend to do so.
However, this is an unconventional age.
An announcement luncheon may be car-
ried out in the following manner: The
table must be dressed in sentimental de-
signs, such as hearts, Cupids and bows and
arrows; as place card a little heart shaped
book is used. When the guests are seated,
each opens her tiny book and the girl hold-
ing page No. 1 reads the first installment
of a little love story. This ends abruptly
at the bottom of the page, and is continued
on page No. 2, held by another girl. The
last installment is the announcement of
the engagement of the hostess, and may be
read by herself or anyone to whom she
desires to intrust the news.—New York
Herald. : .
President's Daughter Sails.
Miss Roosevelt Goes to Porto Rico on Visit to
Friends.
Migs Alice Roosevelt, daughter of the
President, sailed on the steamer Coamo at
noon Saturday for Porto Rico, where she
will he the guest of Miss Elizabeth Hunt,
danghter of Gov. Huns. Miss Roosevelt
is accompanied by her maid.
Accused of Murder,
Widow and a Quack Doctor are in Custody in
Philadeiphin. We is Alleged to Wave Given Wer
Poison to Kill Her Husband—Ne Also Supplied a
Detective With Arsenic.
Evidence as to the existence of a murder
mill in Philadelphia, unearthed by detec:
tives during the past six weeks, was brought
to the light on last Friday, when Mrs.
Katharine Danz, a white woman and
George Iossey a colored ‘herb doctor,”
were committed without bail to await the
action of the coroner. The woman is charg-
ed with the murder of her husband, while
the “‘doctor’’ is held on the charge of being
an accessory.
The chief figure of interest, when the
pair were arraigned at the Central police
station, was the small, keen-eyed. white-
haired negro doctor, who, it is said, pro-
fesses to be a spiritualistic medium. He
was arrested in a dingy little house, stuffed
from garret to cellar with a beterogeneous
collection of herbs and drugs in bottles and
other receptacles.
Mrs. Danz admits having gone to Hossey
to secure a potion that would cure her hus-
band of the drink habit, but emphatically
denies baving murdered him.
Detectives say that Hossey’s clients could
for a nominal sum obtain from him a means
of ridding themselves forever of the presence
of undesirable or burdensome relatives.
It is believed that other mysterious
deaths are under investigation, and that
efforts will be wade to show that Hossey’s
herb shop played an active part in reduc-
ing the population of the section of the
city where he carried on operations. A
wagon load of drugs, consisting mainly of
arsenic and rat poison was taken from his
home.
The body of Danz, who was supposed to
have died from paralysis of the heart, has
been exhumed, and parts of it have been
turned over to a chemist for analysis.
The Central police court, where the de-
fendants were arraigned, was crowded.
Austin Gavin, a private detective, testified
that he visited Hossey’s house on February
27th. He told the herb doctor that he had
kidney trouble, and Hossey he said, gave
him a bottle of medicine, for which he
charged 50 cents. :
Gavin told the herb doctor that he had a
wife who was making his life miserable,
and he was going to get a divorce.
‘Don’t do. that—the lawyers will get all
your money if yon do that,” Gavin swore
Hossey told him. ‘‘I can fix her for you.”
After some hocus-pocus with a pack of
cards the doctor told bim, Gavin said, that
the woman was poisoning him and he
should get rid of her. He gave Gavin a
powder to put iu his shoe, which, he said,
would break the woman's power, and told
him to bring back a strand of the woman's
hair when he returned. :
Gavin testified that on a later visit Hos-
sey told him he would remove the woman
by small doses. He said :
‘‘Hossey told me that I should give her
a dose or two, and then she would get sick.
The doctor would guess at her disease and
give her some medicime. He told me to
let up on the doses then and she would
get well. The doctor would think that he
had guessed the right disease, and his
medicine cured her. He told me that after
a while to give her another dose, and con-
tinue in that way until I finally could give
her the dose to remove her. The doctor
would give the death certificate, and I
would have no trouble.”
Gavin said that Hossey asked $100 for
his services. When Gavin objected to the
price Hossey said, according to the witness,
that he bad arranged with a woman to get
rid of her husband, and he was to get $100
for the job. After the contract had been
Died out the woman had only given him
51.
Gavin tried to make a deal to pay on the
installment plan, but Hossey said he was
getting old and couldn’t afford to take
chances. Gavin said he paid the herb
doctor $10, and the latter gave him a
pewder, with directions for giving it to his
wife. The wrapper of the package in
which the powder came was offered in evi-
dence.
Disguised as health inspectors, Detective
McKenty testified, he and Detective Don-
aghy visited Hosseye home and made a
general inspection of the premises. After
Hossey was arrested the detectives call-
upon Mrs. Daz at her home, 2525 North
Fourth street, and requested her to accom-
pany them to City hall. Much to the snr-
prise of the detectives, they said, Hossey,
upon recognizing Mrs. Danz, remarked :
‘‘“What’s the matter woman? I ain't
giving you away.”’
Hossey was afterward asked if Mrs.
Danz was the woman who gave him $51,
and he answered in the affirmative. Mrs.
Danz admitted that she knew the herb
doctor. After questioning Mrs. Danz furth-
er Detective McKenty said she acknowl-
edged having paid Hossey the money after
she received $3,000 from an insurance com-
pany in which her husband had a policy.
Her husband, Mrs. Danz said, got drunk
and abused her, and she wauted to cure
him. She said Hossey bad given her
powders of a substance like fine herbs, and
told her to put them, six at a time, in her
husband’s whisky.
Dr. George H. Meeker, professor of
chemistry at the Medico-Chirurgical hos-
pital testified that a white powder seized
at Hossey’s place contained about 160
grains of arsenic,
The commitment of Hossey on the
charges of attempt at murder, soliciting
Augustus Gavin to commit murder, prac-
tising medicine without a license, having
poisonous drugs in his possession with in-
tent to commit murder, and aiding and
abetting Catharine Danz in the murder of
William J. Danz, was asked for. The
prosecutor also requested that Mrs. Danz
be held on the charge of murder.
Attorney Scott donounced the charge
against Mrs. Danz as absurd, inasmuch as
it bad not yet been shown that anyone had
been murdered.
Magistrate Kochersperger committed
Mrs. Danz to the county prison to await
the coroner’s action, charged with poison-
ing her husband, William J. Danz, and in
$2,000 bail for conspiracy to commit mur-
der.
George Hossey was committed as au ac-
cessory to the crime, and was held in bail
on charges as requested.
The arrest of Mrs. Danz created much
excitement in her neighborhood. She has
lived in one house since her marriage, a
score of years ago. Residents stood in
groups on the pavement near the house all
day long and discussed the developments
in the case. The accused widow has al-
ways borne an excellent reputation in the
neighborhood.
Danz was a meat cutter and worked for
J. M. Beidler, at 2940-42 North Fifth St.
Mr. Beidler knew him well, and says that
he finds it hard to believe that Danz met
with foul play.
Dr. John J. O. Eberhard, who attended
Danz in his last illness, says that it would
have been possible for any physicians to
fail to detect poison.
‘“Had I considered the case in any way
Ap Ahotit oa the physician, ‘‘I should
have the coroner at once.”
Dr. Eberbard says that Danz was a bard
drinker and was well-known to many peo-
ple as such. The death certificate stated
that Danz died of neuralgia and rheumatism
of the heart.
Wanamaker Plans 12-Story Building.
Permit for $5,000,000 Structure on Present Site.
Floor Area Over 33 Acres—Edifice Will be Fire-
proof, with Furnaces in Separate Building.
A department store building, to cost $5,-
000,000, is to be erected on the site of the
Wanamaker store, at Thirteenth and Chest-
nut streets, in Philadelphia which will be
of the most substantial construction, and
cover more ground space, according to the
architect, than any similar structure of its
kind in the world.
The permit for the erection of the build-
ing was granted last week to E. R. Gra-
ham, a representative of the firm of D. H.
Burnbam & Co., architects, of Chicago,
whose force of seventy draoghtsmen has
just completed the plans and specifications,
in the record breaking time of eleven days.
The proposed building will be twelve
stories high, with a basement and subbase-
ment, with frontages of 240 feet on Market
and Chestnut streets and 479 feet on Thir-
teenth and Juniper streets. The exterior
walls will be of brick and stone, with terra
cotta ornaments. The roof will be paved
with asphalt.
FIREPROOF CONSTRUCTION.
The building will be of fireproof con-
struction, the floor beams. girders and col-
umns being of steel. Marble mosaic tiling
is to be used for the floors, and white ma-
ble laid on concrete bases. The building
will extend 200 feet high above the street
level, and the foundations, of concrete,
will extend forty-seven feet below the street
level.
At the four ends will be brick inclosed
tower fire-escapes, with staircase ten feet
wide.
The plavs call for a first floor twenty-two
feet high, the second story being sixteen
feet and the other floors twelve feet. The
light court, in the centre of the building,
will cover an area 72x152 feet.
The main front of the building will be
on Juniper street, where there will be a
carriage entrance, similar to the one at the
Pennsylvania railroad station, measuring
106 by 26 feet. The shipping and delivery
departments will be removed to the Thir-
teenth street side of the building, there
will be a driveway measuring 48 by 156
feet, so arranged that automobile delivery
wagons may be driven on six large eleva-
tors. These will carry the wagons from
the basement to the top floors.
The building will contain 1,676,500
square feet of floor space, equal to 38}
acres, and will be equipped with sixty-two
passenger and freight elevators.
No boilers or engines will be in the main
structure. A separate power house will be
erected on Leiper street, helow Thirteenth.
The tunnel, which will carry all the pipes,
has already been completed.
TO BUILD IN SECTIONS.
No announcement as to how the build-
ing will be erected or the time for the be-
ginning of the work has been made, but it
is understood that the structure will be
erected in quarters, the work to begin soon.
The first section to be started will no doubt
be at the corner of Juniper and Market
streets.
Cuticle From 100 For Girl.
Friends of Yonng Woman Hurt in Trolley Accident to
Aid Her
One hundred relatives and friends of
Miss Margaret Cummerford, 380 South
Orange avenue, Newark, N. J., intend to
give up a portion of their cuticle to supply
300 square inches of skin for the girl, who
was seriously injured in the collision at
the Ciifton avenue crossing on Februrary
19.
Miss Cammerford was one of the most
seriously injured of the high school pupils
in the crash. She is19 years old, and her
recovery which is now said to be certain,
will be due to her splendid physical condi-
tion and strong constitution.
In the accident in which nine of her
friends were killed and more than thirty
injured Miss Cummerford suffered a glance-
ing blow from some solid substance on one
side of her body just above the hip.
The muscles and flesh of her abdomen
were torn away. There was a serious hem-
orrage and in an ordinary case death would
have resulted from that alone. More
than ordinary care was given her in the
Newark City hospital, and she declared
from the beginning that she would live.
Three quarts of normal saline solution
were infused into her veins while the sur-
geons were putting back into place the
muscles and flesh and sewing them. - In
every way the operation was successful,
but the other skin has since sloughed off,
and there is now a space of 176} square
inches which has no outer skin.
In two or three weeks the grafting will
be started. As not all the skin is expect-
ed to adhere on the first application, it is
believed that perhaps 300 square inches of
skin will have to besupplied. As only from
one to four square inches of skin are taken
from each person, 100 will have to submit
to the sacrifice.
It is said that when the time comes there
will be no lack of volunteers who will per-
mit the transfer of portions of their cuticle -
to plucky Miss Cummerford.
Use of Overshoes.
The Number of Men Wearing Them Seems to In-
crease Each Year.
The men who wear overshoes and the
men who wear rubber boots are increas-
ing in number. I$ may have been com-
monly supposed that there was a decrease
instead of an increase, but the facts show
the reverse. :
There are more men and also more wom-
en and children now who never go out on
winter days without putting on rubbers or
rubber boots than there ever were in the
country before. The number of cautious
mothers who will not allow their children
on the streets without rubbers has increas-
ed. The numberof men who kick off rub-
bers when they go into their offices in the
morning has increased. The number of
men who pull on rubber hoots in the morn-
ing and sometimes forget to pull them off
in the evening has increased.
The person who says that the rubber boot
is becoming a thing of the past speaks
without reason.
These facts are shown by an increase in
the number of factories turning out such
products. In 1880 there were nine facto-
ries in the United States. In 1890 there
were 11. Now there are 22. In the last
ten years the business bas increased 100
per cent. The value of the products of
these factories has increased from $9,000,-
000 in 1880 to $41,000,000.
In furnishing the rubbers and rubber
boots to the public these factories use $21,-
000,000 worth of material and employ
nearly 15,000 wage earners. ' :