THE SCBANTON TRIBUNES-TUESDAY MORNDTCf. DECEMBER 18. 1894.
19
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I Central Pennsylvania J2L Telephone and Supply Co.
j . -C!lllP
SCRANTON'S NEW
1 IfcLfcl
1 It is but a short time since the completion and occupancy of
the fine new Telephone Exchange Building on Adams avenue,
enabled the Telephone Company to bring directly to the notice of
the 800 subscribers connected with the Scranton Exchange the
only practical method of shutting out effectually the disturbances
of the Electric Railway and Electric Lighting systems. Even
men not in the Electrical line understood very well that the Tele
phone current is of necessity a very feeble one, and as it flows
onward in its gentle and inoffensive way, the big Bully, the high
tension current of the Railway or the Electric Light pounces upon
it at every favorable opportunity, and not content with the con
ductors provided seeks to .onopolize those of the Telephone as
well. They call it induct, a in some cases and leakage in others,
but all the same, it suggests the Bully, who lies in wait to torment
and trouble the small boy. This has been going on to a greater
or less extent since the introduction of Electric lighting and
Electric Railways, and the Telephone Companies in. Scranton
and elsewhere have tried various remedies but only with partial
success. It finally came to be recognized as a fact that there was
only one effectual cure for these troubles and that was the adop
tion of the metallic circuit system, .which meant the wiping out
of what had cost so much, and investing a large amount of money
in a practically new plant, but the Telephone people realized that
Scranton was a City of too much importance to be satisfied witli
anything but the best, and so the work began. New pole lines
were put up and old ones cut down, the hundreds of overhead
wires were removed and in their stead appeared costly lead covered
cables, each containing a hundred pairs of insulated wires. The new
Telephone Exchange Building was erected and fitted up with
all the modern appliances of the Telephone business. Although
Scranton had already a fine Multiple- Switchboard this was laid
aside, and a new one built by the Western Electric Company of
Chicago, having all the improvements that electrical and mechan
ical skill had so far devised; but with the installation of the new
switchboard the work was far from complete. New and costly
copper metallic circuits were built to Carbondale, Forest City
and to all intermediate points, as well as to towns in other direc
tions, and as fast as these circuits were completed the various
stations were equipped with Long-distance Telephone Sets, enabl
ing those who used them to not only have perfect local service,
but also to talk to New York, Philadelphia and all other outside
points.
Here again came in a lot of expensive material to be thrown
m the waste heap. Neither Magnets, Hells, nor any other por
tion the old Instruments would do for the new, everything had
to be different. It was no longer a question of expense, however,
but to complete in the shortest time, Scranton's model Telephone
Exchange and to be prepared to say to its subscribers "We are
ready to offer you the best in the business," and Scranton's busi
ness men were not slow to notice the difference and appreciate
the exchange, orders for Metallic Circuits equipped with long dis
tance Telephones began to pour in. For months, as rapidly as
new apparatus could be procured' the work of arranging Metallic
Circuits for the subscribers has been going on until today, out
of the 800, there is less than -00 eqnipped with the old Instruments.
The New Service costs a trifle more than the old, but it is a baga
telle compared with the rapidity and correctness with which busi
ness can be transacted ; those who have the New Service are quick
to recognize this, and the remark is heard frequently from gentle
men who don't like worry, "I expect to live ten or twenty years
longer now, since I got this new Telephone." Our business men
move so fast and transact business so rapidly that the man at
the other end of a Telephone line must be on the alert or he may
lose a good order, if he does not comprehend quickly; the busy
man, in his hurrying way, is apt to hang up liis Telephone and
call some one who is in shape to handle his order without delay.
When a goodly number of the old Telephones had been dis
placed it was discovered that some of the operators who, up to
that time, had been only moderately busy, were now so crowded
that it was difficult to answer calls as fast as they were made. This
showed at once that the Telephone was being used a good deal
more than formerly on account of the better service. Steps were at
once taken to put additional operators in training and to prepare
new sections of the Switchboard so as to reduce the number of
wires the busy operators had to care for. All this has been done
and precautions taken to make the service good during meal hours
and in the evening, as well as during the more busy portion of .the
day. Following also the example of New York, the City is
being districted, and an experienced man placed in charge of
each district, who will be held responsible for the prompt and
proper repair of all Telephone troubles within his territory.
In fact, with a lively sense of the present and future promin
ence of Scranton, the Telephone Managers are determined to
spare no pains or expense that will result in making the effi
ciency of its Exchange equal to the best in the country, be they
small or great. With all that the Telephone Managers have done
or can do, much depends on the subscribers' co-operation. Many
thoughtless ones greatly retard the service by persistent ringing
of the bell, when one sharp ring is all that is required, by insist
ing on the operator explaining why a delay has occurred, when
the subscriber should first transact his business and then call for
the chief operator and state his grievence to him. Asking an
operator for explanations during the busy hours of the day lias
about the same effect as stopping to talk to. a friend in a narrow
passage way through which a crowd are hurrying to catch a
train. Persistent ringing of a Telephone sometimes relieves one's
feelings, but the first ring drops your number at the Exchange
which remains dropped until the operator can answer you. But
even these faults are growing less. It is a well known fact that the
men who make the least complaints are the brightest and most
business-like of the business people. They view the Telephone
in the proper light and allow no nonsense in connection with its
use. Happily this class is increasing, and the amount of foolish
ness transacted by Telephone is on the wane. It is not too much
to hope that in the near future the great bulk of business by
Telephone will .be transacted as it is in the office of the business
man, brief, to the point, and decisive. ',
unique iaic ui
On? Unforttinafe
It Had a Costly Seguel, as This Nar
rative Kill Trove.
A.N EASY VICTIM IX A VILLA
The Real Fact Was That the Alleged Ma
nias Was a First-Class Specimen of
the Modern, Evcry-Day
Dunco Stecrcr.
From the French.
I live In a delightful little villa at
Auteull. It stands with its pretty gar
den In an unfrequented street. It Is, In
deed, the 'home of a poet.
One hot day In June I was playing the
violin when there was a knock at the
door, and a man wholly unknown to me
came Into the room. He appeared to be
about CO years of age; he was small,
well built and muscular. He sat down
without ceremony on a sofa. I did not
feel much reassured. He took off his
hat and revealed a gray head that In
spired respect.
"Pardon me, monsieur," he said to
me, In a sad voice, "for coming In with
out being properly announced. I am a
neighbor of yours and make bold on
that account. I adore music and heard
you playing, and I had a keen desire to
make your acquaintance."
"A crank," I thought to myself.
"Your violin has a remarkable tone
and you play with great talent."
Alas, for human vanity! This compli
ment caused my distrust to vanish.
"I possess an excellent violin," I said,
"It Is an Amatl."
The stranger took tho violin and ex
amined It on both sides.
"It Is one of the best I ever saw," he
aid. "It Is worth 3,000 francs."
"I know It Is a rare violin," I said.
The stranger took It up and drew the
bow across the strings.
"It Is not my Instrument. I play the
vlollncello. When we know each other
better, If you permit It, I shall be very
happy to have some music with you."
"That will be easy," I said. "I play
the piano a little."
"I live In a cottage not very far from
yn' own. What were you playing Just
"Wtitfbf Mendelssohn's quartets."
' "What a great artist he Is."
'I prefer him to Beethoven."
"So do I, monsieur wo have the same
tastes. If I were not afraid of being In
discreet I would ask you to continue
playing. You play with so much ex
presslon."
. How can a man resist a request so
complimentary? I took up my violin.
"You cannot have heard me properly,
monsieur; my playing is very common
place."
"I don't know how well you play, but
I know, monsieur, that you feel what
you play. That Is everything In art."
I began the adagio, putting my whole
Boul Into It. When I finished I noticed
that the stranger was Inspecting all
the objects In tho room. Ho turned to
me.
','That was beautiful," he said; "how
we'll you rendered the great master's
thonghts. I thank you, and once moro
beg you to forgive the freedom with
which I Introduced on your privacy.
am rather eccentric; I have suffered so
much."
The stranger put his hand to his head.
went on, "and, moreover, In the most
horrible circumstances, I have been
mad for a long time.
My apprehensions began to return
and I nuotlced a peculiar look In the
man's eyes.
"I am cured now," he went on, "and I
seek to forget In the pursuit of the tine
arts. You are sympathetic! I will toll
you my story. The secret I shall con
fide you Is a terrible one."
Hum! I thought. He's going a bit
too fast for me.
"Sir," I replied, "I do not desire to
receive painful memories."
"It will relieve me," he said. "I was
22 years old and possessed of a good
name, an Independent fortune and
everything that was necessary for suc
cess in the world.
'I went about that time to stay with
the D'Anfreville family, who lived In a
Buperb castle In the environs of Paris
in the Brie. The Marquise D'Anfreville
was the father of two ravlshlngly beau
tiful girls, Zoe and Denise. Attracted
by their charms I often went to the
house, and soon became an Intimate
friend of the family. I loved them both
and hod no preference for either. Soon
I discovered that both girls were in love
with me.
"The situation was most embarrass
ing.
"My visits became more and more fre
quent, and the greatest intimacy ex
isted between the young girls and my
self. After much hesitation I decided
In favor of Denise, the younger, and
asked her to marry me. The grief of
Zoe was immenes. She concealed It.
but from that moment bore toward her
sister the most bitter hatred. The mar
riage was celebrated with princely
functions and attended by the most se
lect society of Paris. Zoe was stoical:
she feigned Indifference, but the pallor
of her face betrayed her and threw a
cloud over my happiness.
'As soon as the celebrations were nt
an end I left for Italy with my young
wife. I spent there the happiest days
of my life. I worshipped Denise, and
was at the summit of my ambition.
After six months' Joy without a single
trouble to mar It. we returned to our
parents-ln-law. Zoe received us with
great warmth. I thought she had got
over her grief and felt reassured. Some
time afterward Denise began to lose her
health. She had strange attacks of
sickness accompanied by paliiB in the
head. She grew thinner and weaker
and her character began to change. She
became nervous, Irritable, fanciful.
"The old family doctor came to see
her every day. Ho asked me odd ques
tions, und I thought his old age had
destroyed his judgment and made him
fanciful.
"Denise grew worse and was obliged
to take to her bed. Her sister's devo
tion to her was beautiful; ohe never
left her bedside.
''I was beginning to despair. One
evening, when Zoe was out of the room,
Denise took my hand. 'George,' she
said, 'I am lost!'
"I cried aloud.
" 'If you only knew," she continued
In an excited voice. 'It Is horrible! I
am dying, and I have been poisoned by
my sister!'
" 'It Is Impossible! You are raving!'
" 'Last night I saw her pour out the
noison; she thought I was asleep.'
' " 'It Is awful!'
" 'She Is Jealous of my happiness,
and wants to become your wife. Swear
to me that you will never marry her.'
"She took me In her arms, and, while
I gave the promise, she fell back dead
"It were useless to describe to you my
grief.
"Zoe came In. I seized her by the
neck, and, dragging hr to th bd, I
confrontd her with my dead wife.
" 'Miserable girl!' I cried.'behold your
work. I know it all.'
"She threw herself at my knees and
confessed her crime, saying she had
done It because of her love for me.
" 'I shall not give you up to Justice,'
I said. 'I cannot disgrace both your
family and my own. It would kill your
parents. You must disappear so that
I can never find you again, or else "
" 'I will disappear,' she sobbed, 'I
promise you; I will disappear for for
ever.' "The next day she was found dead In
her bed. She had taken the poison
the same poison that she hud given to
her sister.
"The two sisters left me all their
property.
"I had hoped that all was over. Zoe
dead, the horrible secret was known
only to me. I could count on the old
doctor. On my way back from the
cemetery he touched me on the choul
der. " 'Monsieur le Comte,' he said to me,
'I present my compliments to you;
you understand well the uses of poison.'
" 'What do you mran?" I asked.
"'I mean that your trial for murder
will raise quite a disturbance. I had
before my suspicious of the caiiRe of
your wife's death; today I have proofs.
I have analyzed the contents of the
bottle whloh you used to poison your
slster-ln-law.'
" 'What? You necuse me?' I cried.
'You think I poisoned the wife I
adored? For what purpose?'
"The old doctor smiled sardonically.
" 'See whom their deaths proHt,' he
said, 'You have come into tho property
of the victims. Hut that Is not my
affulr; that Is for the Judge to decide.'
'I was astounded! Not only would
the scandal 1 dreaded break out, but
I myself wis accused of the most horri
ble crime. The appearances were
agalnat me. It was enough to Bend me
out of my mind."
At this point the stranger said;
"What would you have done In my
place, monsieur?"
"Mais, monsieur," I stammered. "I
really cannot sny."
"I did not hesltaite," he went on; "I
confessed. I had my plan."
" 'Doctor," I said, 'I am a very guilty
man. But I do not wish my crime to
cover with shame two old and honora
ble families. I will kill myself."
" 'Tres blen,' sald the doctor. 'You
still have some good sentiments. On
that condition I will tell nothing.'
"I asked for Wme 'necessary to put
my affair In order. He said he would
accompany me, and stepped right Into
the trap I had laid for him. Having
said farewell to my grandparents, we
took the train togother for a station In
Seln-et-Olse, near an estate that be
longed to me. As the train drew near
the station I suddenly opened the door
and pushed the old doctor, who was
asleep, onto the' track. It was quite
dark. I had laid my plans. The doctor
rolled under the trailn and the wheels
passed over him.
"The train stopped. I called for as
sistance. The dootor's body wub a mass
of blood and bruises. I declared that
he had tried to get off the train while
It wu In motion. No one doubted me,
He was dead and I was saved!"
The stranger ceaspd sneaking. I, for
my part, felt very uneasy. Hu wiped
his brow and continued;
"So much emotion had turned my
poor head and I became mad, as mad
as a hatter."
He rose.
"You have my secret," he said, In a
hoarse voice.
After
cried
"I did not ask you for It, sir.
all, you only annoy me."
"One of us Is de trop," he
threateningly.
He advanced towards me with star
ing eyes. I retired prudently behind
the piano, because I knew that I was
dealing with an enraged madman.
"I am going to throw you out of the
window." He shook the curtains of the
wlndowis that looked out Into ;the
street. At the same moment there was
a ring at the bell, and I ran to open
the door.
A gervtleman, well dressed and
groomed, came in. He wore the rosette
of the Legion of Honor and was fol
lowed by two gigantic fellows In
blouses.
'IamDr.Maxfestown," he said, with
a slightly foreign accent. "I am the
director of a private lunatic asylum,
and one of my patients has escaped.
According -to the information I have
received, he has concealed himself 1
your villa.'"
"You have made no mistake, sir; you
have come Just in time," I replied
grel1y relieved.
'God be praised! It Is the Count
Martini, an unfortunate man, who
went mad after his wife's death. He
Imagines that she was poisoned."
'And he wanted to throw me out of
the window."
'That is his mania. We will at once
rcik'Ve you of htm. I ask a thousand
pardons for the annoyance he has
oaused you."
He pointed to the two men In the
blouses.
"Two of my assistants," he said. We
went Into the drawing room. The mad
man seemed grpatly agitated.
'He Is going to have an attack," de
clared the doctor.
"Doctor," cried the madman, "this
man Is going to denounce me. I must
have his life."
He made a rush at me. The two big
assistants, not without ditllculty, re
strained hint, and one of them took a
strong cord from under his blouse.
"Your presence Irritates him," said
the doctor to me. "Would you he so
kind as to conceal yourself while we
take him away?"
I stepped Into the cupboard.
"Oh, monsieur, how good of you. The
family of the count will never forget
your kindness. They will come to thank
you In person."
The doctor closed the door and turned
the key. Then I heard sounds of a
struggle.
"Quietly, please, Monsieur le Comte."
Then followed a sound of moving furn
iture In my bedroom adjoining. Tho
madman had evidently got away from
the two assistants. After some time
all became quite again. The madman
had evidently been captured.
In the excitement of the moment the
doctor had forgotten to restore me to
my liberty.
I remulned In the cupboard until
nightfall.
The wife of the concierge let ma out.
"And the madman?" I asked.
"What .madman, monsieur?"
Then 1 saw that my valuable Amatl
violin, my pictures, my bronzes, and
a pi'lctless bracket of Louis X. had
vanished! '
I had been buncoed.
SOMETHING ABOUT PRICES.
Reputation Saved,
ripnlor Where you going now?
Driver To tnke this barrel of apples
around to Mr. Hrlelcrow n.
Dealer flood Lands! You 11 ruin nu,
Thut barrel hasn't been opened.
Driver Do you want It opened, sir?
Dealer Of course, you dunce. U wo
leave It to him to do himself he may open
It at the wrong and.
Brass In 1840 was $14 a ton.
A cloak, A. D. 72, cost 60 cents.
Paper In 1431 was 25 cents a quire.
In the tenth century razors cost 30 cents.
Charlemagne paid $7 for a pair of shoes.
In 1307 a horseshoe In Englund cost 14
cents.
In Athens, A. D. 71, oysters sold for 30
cents.
Julius Caesar's everyday tunic cost 24
cents.
The first hand firearms cost about M
each.
A bed In a Greek Inn In A. D. 327 cost 4
cents.
The coronation robes of Napoleon cost
14,000.
In Rome, B. C. 6. roses were a cent a
dozen.
In 1375 salt cost. In France, $2.50 a
bushel.
A Greek hat In the time of Pericles cost
10 cents.
In 1312 English linen was worth 10 cents
a yard.
In Venice In 1274 a pig brought two
shillings.
In 1(!17 a cannon was made at Paris that
cost (742.
In 1302 a sheep sold In France for $1; a
pig for $2.
In 1230 a hen was bought In Paris for
one penny,
Mary, queen of Scots, once paid $2,000
for a diet's.
In 13i;i apples In Germany were worth $1
a thousand.
In l.'itil a pair of shoes made In England
post 20 cents.
In l!i4 gunpowder sold for 14 per hun
dred weight.
Ink, In the days of Louis IX, coBt 40
cents a quart.
In ir.42 a tunned cowhide in England coat
nine shillings.
In 1199 randies sold In Amsterdam for 6
cents a pound.
THE WINDS OF MEMORY.
Upon this wosturn shore tonight I'm sit
ting. A shore that slopes to touch a boundless
sea,
And wutch the white ships Inward, out
ward Hitting,
And wonder when my ship will come to
me,
And whence It comes or whlthpr It Is go
ing, And only hear tho winds of memory blow
ing. Across tho cliffs of yesterday they're
' coining,
They fan my forehead with the forest
air,
Remembered melodies tho hills are hum
ming The scent of pine trees grcpt mo every
where; Again I hear the wayslilo brooklet flow
ing Whero all tho winds of memory are blow
ing. Dlow on, sweet winds your singing or
your sighing
Bounds like some long forgotten tune;
Beneath tho apple blossoms again I'm
lying,
And feel the breath of girlhood's early
June;
For life again with youth and love Is
glowing
While all the winds of memory are blow
ing. Upon this western shore tonight I'm
straying
A sharo thut slopes to touch a boundless
spa-
Am! wutch the billons upward, downward
swaying,
And do not care how high the waves
may be
Or If the waters touch my fept not know
ing While all tho winds of memory are blow
lug. Anon.
irst-Class Store
Is What People Want
The
General Store
of
WESTPFRHL'S
ii
AND
11
SI
FILLS
ij THE BILL.
oft
LlLuI IU
1
H
Large and Commodious
Stores Stocked with only
First-Class Goods at Prices
that cannot be beat.
This Store
Is the South Side
Emporium
; WHEN
MIT IF ANYTHIIG
l
! GIVE US A CALL
LARGE DISPLAY OF
NutsV Fruit and Candy
For the Holiday Trade.
"I lost the wife whom I adored," he