ti Cbe Rome Reading Circle IS BICYCLING BAD FOR THE HEART? Health is Wealth. THE SORArtTON TRIBUNE-MONDAY MORSTING, Jrjsra 14, 1807. ' " ' i i i w 1.v5dN ' mi,, 1"" maiA!-! (Mini . 2uRA ' aVA jraU IHE OIL OF TIME BUTTERFLIES. By KATE UPSON CLARK. Copyrluht, 1800, by the Uncueller Syndicate PAItT I. it was a large, bare Kou&e the only one on the sandy Plrro Hill road. An rtlr of desolation surrounded It, which young: Mrs. Collls Wood felt painfully, an she reined up her gentle pony In front of It. Gloomy evergreen forests covered the hill, and even the little opening around the 1i6um looked dark, though the sun was shtnlnrr. She knocked at the door, and a stout, middle-aged woman responded. Mrs. Wood Introduced herself, nnd the wo man gave her own name as "Mrs. KeasVy Mrs. Thomas Keasbey" with an air of pride. "Perhaps you may know, Mrs. Keas bey," Mrs. Wood proceeded, when they were seated In the plain little parlor, "that I have a class of girls which mtet every Sunday afternoon In the school houso Just at the foot of the hill here. Some of us enjoy driving out. the two miles from the village, and staying there an hour then, and wo hope It Is n, good thing for this neighborhood. I have noticed when I have been driving past hero that you have n, very bright pretty girl. Wouldn't sho llko to Join my class?" In spite of the gratified expression which the easy compliment brought to Mrs. Keasbey's flabby, but not un comely face, a flush of displeasure ac companied It. "It was our Dorllla you saw, prob ably," the said with a nervous little laugh, "but she's been to school n. sight. Mr. Keasbey and I have trav eled mostly during the last three or four year?, and Dorllla has been In a, convent down south not that we're specially religious, for we ain't but It v as a good place for her and sho liked 11. She took all the pr!zo3 there and she rends most of the time now. She'3 most seventeen, and wo think maybe she's gone to school enough. She's sort o' odd, and wt want to get her out of the way of It." "Then wouldn't this be a good thing for her?" urged the visitor. "Thero ore several nice girls In this neighbor hood who go there, and It would be pleasant for a stranger like your Dorll la to get acquainted with them." "N no, ' dissented Mrs. Keasbey. "We may not stay here very long. I guess It ain't-worth while." There was a pause. Mrs. Wood felt as though she were expected to go, but she decided to make another attempt. "Perhaps Dorllla would really like to come," she suggested. "Won't you let me ask her?" "I don't know where she Is. She may be oft In the woods somewhere, and I can't very well leave to hunt for her, for Mr. Keasbey is homo now, and I've got work to do. I reckon she don't care to go." At this moment the front door wponecl, and Dorllla herself entered. Her attire, like her mother's, was soiled and tawdry, but beyond this there was little resemblance between them. Dorllla was tall and slender, and fatr. Her black hair was as soft as silk, and hung In a Ion braid down her back. Her eyes were dark, and their expression was almost wild, but hPr rather large mouth and nose were well shaped and Arm, and her whole bear ing was quiet and pleasing. It was no wonder that Mr. Wood had ob served Dorllla Keasbey, when passing the lonely house ctn Pine hill. "See," said the girl smiling, as she stood In the doorway. She held out her round arm, from which the loose sleeve fell away at the elbow. Three palpitating white butter Hies were ranged In a row upon the delicate, blue-veined flesh, A fourth was fluttering around the girl's head. "Don't!" cried the mother, with a half shriek. "Hush 'em off, Itlll! Put em out doors!" "Why, asked the girl, pulling away, as her mother tried to push her. "They like me and I like them -and they are the sweetest things in the world." At this point tine saw Mrs. Wood for the first time, and Mrs. Keasbey per formed the necessary Introductions, In a reluctant manner which the daugh ter could not fall to observe. She lis tened with interest to the scheme which tho sweet-faced visitor proposed, only knowing the "other girls" were men tioned. "I don't think I care much about them," she said, with a warm gleam in her dark eyes, "but I know I should like you and 1 think I will go." "You better ask your father first," her mother warned her. "I think I can manage him." "And you may bring your butter flies with you," Mis. Wood said, smil ingly. "I always carry one," said the girl, uoberly. She rolled up ner loose sleeve, nnd showed Just above her elbow, a singular birthmark. It stood out white, even against Dorllla's white skin, and was of the general shape of the common white butterfly. "How strange!" murmured the gentle visitor. "Yes," said tho girl, "and I have al ways chased, white butterflies ever since I was born. I feed them nnd keep them In my room and I suppose I tamo them and mako them llko me in that way. Hut I believe they would llko roe anyway that there was something between us. Don't you think that that might be?" "Perhaps so." replied Mrs. Wood. In all the world there 1$ no other treatment to pure,o sweet, so safe, aoapoody, for jire. ervlns.jiurlfylng.ftna beautlfilng tboikln, Malp, anil hair, and eradicating every hu mor, m w.rji bath, with Ctmoniu 8oav, and gentlo anointings with CTOCUUi. (olu ment), the great tltlu ours. It laid ttirourhent the world. 1?IT M Soar., ttele raps., Uoston. Lboul the akin. Scrip. and Ilslr,"free. DIN. Chkm M-" .ill About 3SVERY HUMOlt iStSffiS&SSS BABY'S SKIN mticura slowly. "At any rate It is a beautiful omen. It betokens a white soul." "In me?" questioned tho girl, halt mockingly. "Yes, you." "Oh, you don't know!" she murmur ed, bitterly. "What did you say, mil?" demanded her mother, suspiciously. "Take care!" Mrs. Collins Wood felt uncomfortable and rose to depart, more Interested In this strange girl than ever. "Then you will come on Sunday?" she said. "No," muttered tho woman thickly. "She can't go and she knows she can't." Dorllla said nothing till she handed the reins to Mr. Wood. Then the girl Intimated that she mjglit appear at the school house on Sunday afternoon after all, and only laughed at tho rather shocked and doubtful expression which appeared on her visitor's face. She drove away, with the vision in her mind of Dorllla standing there In the sunlight, with delicate, white-winged things settling down upon her. Beside thnt picture, tho sordid shackly house, with Its vulgar mistress and its sinister atmosphere, sank into significance. Sure enough, on the following Sun day, the girl appeared at the school house, and after the lesson was over and the others had left, she explained to Mrs. Wood that she had come with out he knowledge of her parents, "but," she went on, "It didn't make any dif ference. A lot of my father's friends came from the city' lust night, and we had to get a big dinner for them this noon. Father does some of the cooking, and Mlkey and the others help. Mother doesn't like to have me spoil my hands. She and her father care a great deal more about keeping them white than I do and white they were eating, I Just crept away. They think I am In the woods for I go off there .by myself a great deal. It's no matter, anyway." "Oh!" '"breathed Mrs. Wood, still somewhat dubious as to the propriety of receiving Dorllla Into her class under tho circumstances, and wondering why these strange parents should wish to keep tho girl cooped up by herself on Pins Hill; but her delight In the class, her evident love for her young teacher and, as the Sundays went by, and still she came, her high ethical perceptions and her thurst for spiritual light, de termined Mrs. Wood to let thlng3 go as Dorllla wished. She said one day to her: "It Is Just as I said, Dorllla the omen Is true you have a 'white soul. You nlway:i know what Is right and see it more quickly than any of the rest of us." Again the mocking, half distressed look came over the girl's face and her cye3 filled. "You don't understand," sho repeat ed in a voice full of misery. Mrs. Wood did not call again at the houso at Pino Hill, but sometimes she drove past it, on the chance of catch ing a glimpse of Dorllla. One day sho hart seen a man who was undoubtedly Mr. Thoma3 Keasbey. He was a short, thick-set man, slovenly, yet flashy, like his wife. Occasionally Mrs. Wood managed to get Dorllla to spend an afternoon with' her In the village. Then they had long, affectionate talks, In which each told tho other of the chief events of her life, though DorllU was rather provoklngly reserved in her accounts. Mrs. Wood gathered, however, that sho had been born on her grandfather's farm, a llttlo way from New York city; that later the family had removed to tho town, where they had lived above Mr. Keasbey's locksmith hhop; that they had periods of prosperity, during which they had iraveieu auroau, dressed well and had everything. These had been succeeded by times- of poverty. Dorllla spoke most lovingly of the sisters at tho con vent where she had been so long. "I had been sick, ,but I grew well and strong there," she said. "Oh, I loved the convent so! If I were only thero now!" She burst Into tears as sho spoke, and sobbed long and passionate ly. "Don't! Don't, Dorllla!" begged her gentlo hostess. "You shake so and sob so, you frighten me." "Oh, you don't know," wept the girl. "Don't know what? Aren't they kind to you at homo?" "Oh. yes. My father Is good to mo and proud .that I h'ave had soma edu cation. He somehow expects to be come rich again', and then he will mako a fine lady of me, he says." As Mrs. Wood stroked tho girl's silk en head, she cast about in her mind for threadu of lecollectlon which might unravel tho mystery of Dorllla's tears. She remembered seeing once a pleasant-looking young man sitting beside Dorllla on the Pino Hill doorstep. Sho had spoken often of a certain "Mlkey." Could there be a love affair at tho bot tom of this grief? A few question? revealed tho fact that Dorllla did, Indeed, cherish an af fection for "Mlkey," which was disap proved by her futher, who said that "Mlkey" had no "nerve" and would never "amount to anything." "Hut ho Is a gentleman through and through," Dorllla concluded, with di lating eyes and blazing cheeks, "and I shall never like anybody else half so much. I know his name Isn't pretty but neither is mine. Dorllla! It la tho softest, sickest name I ever heard of. My mother got It out of a novel. But I must go.' Dorllla had stolen away from home us usual. "I wish they would not keep you so closely," sighed Mrs. Wood. "Why do you suppose they won't let you have any friends?" Tho girl's eyes assumed their most unhappy and inscrutable look. "I I don't understand mysejf," sho stammered. ;'Maybe it is because wo are so poor now and my father wants to wait until wo can live better, before we have friends. Good-by." The girl Btooped her beautiful head to receive the kiss which her young teacher offered her. As she walked swiftly away in tho direction of Pino Hill, a white butterfly went dancing along after her. "I wonder," speculated tho happy young wife, aB she stood watching tho fair figure of the girl, and thinking of the secret Just revealed, which she fan cied explained Dorllla's excitement, "I wonder If I am doing right in. asking her so much to come here and all. It seems as though It couldn't bo wrong. At any rate, I will think about It a llttlo longer before I make any change." One day, late In September, Thomas Keasbey, who was at home oftener now than during the summer, asked Dorllla to do a strange errand, strange event to her, who was accustomed to stiange errands. She was expert with her pencil. He wished her to visit the rooms of tho Woman's exchange in the village, buy a few articles there, and take such notice of the rooms that she could mako an accurate plan of them afterward. iThe Woman'e exchange rooms were situated on the second and top floor of what was called "the Bank block" in the village. They were three or four In number, and were under the charge of a charitable organization of women, prominent among whom was Mrs. Col lls Wood. Preserves, sweetmeats and needle-work were sold there, as In most such places. In one room there was a sort of an intelligence office In another, a small public library. In the summer thero was a good many city boarders in the vicinity, who patronized the exchange. It had been welll man aged, and had more than paid for Itself, besides aiding many poor women. Directly underneath these rooms was the village bank, one of the richest and best-conducted country banks In. the state. Mr. Collls Wood was tho cash ier. He was a young man, but he had grown up In the business and under stood It thoroughly. He had married the daughter of tho bank president. Altogether, he possessed a social and business standing second to nono in the place. Through a man who had assisted In the building of the bank.Thomaa Keas bey had ascertained that a steel ceiling Just above it was topped by a layer of cement, three feet In thickness. This cement was as hard as .marble. Weeks mlgh't be required, with the limit of available hours per night, and with tho only tools which could bo used In such a case, to cut a hole through such a ceiling, large enough to admit the body of a man yet such a hole Mr. Keasbey proposed to make. He load secured a complete plan of the 'bank. Now he must get the exact plan of the rooms above it. His daughter, with her re fined face, quick eye and skillful hand, was Just the one to do the work un suspectedit he could only get her to undertake it. PAItT II. It was on a Saturday afternoon; that Dorllla's father asked her to make her self ready to go to the village. When she had her hat and gloves on, h'o brief ly outlined her errand. "I am thinking of putting up a block of buildings myself," he concluded, with a wink at his wife. "Then why don't you go to the peo ple who built this, and ask them for the plan?" she inquired, with th!a cloudy look in her eyes which always came when she was deeply moved. "I can't afford It, you llttlo goose," he answered with a laugh. "They would charge me big money." Dorllla turned; slowly walked over the hill to the village; did her errand, and gave the plan to her father, having finished It as soon as she was well con cealed by the trees on her way home; but she felt vaguely uncomfortable over what she had done, and she went back Into the woods after a little, and sat thero on a rock thinking for a long time. In her thought sho lived over her life again. She remonlbered how fond ly she had adored her father before she went to tho convent. During the years there, she had seen little of him. She had usually spent her vacations with the sisters, wha had made a pet of her. Now and then she had staid with her father and mother at some hotel. The quality of these hotels had de clined steadily during the last two years, and Thomas Kearbey had grown glomy and Irritable. Still, when he had come to the convent to see her he had brought her beautiful presents. and at the hotels, he had been fond and proud of her, and sho had still loved him. This summer, however, during the ten or twelve weeks since the Keasbeys had moved Into the Pine hill house, Dorllla's feelings toward her father had undergone a change. He was still kind to her and to her mother, when he was himself; but he often drank deeply especially when the live or six friends whom he called his "business partners" came out to spend the night with him. Dorllla could dimly recol lect such scenes far back in her child hood, but she had not known them in recent years, and they shocked her. Her lessons In the school house had lent a new force to moral convictions formed in the convent. They and tho Indirect Influence of Mrs. Collls Woods, in those long, delightful talks which Dorllla contrived to steal now and then on a weekday, v were insensibly altering the whole current of the girl's thoughts. The Bqualor and confusion of the shackly house on Pine Jilll an noyed and chafed upon her more and more. The utrnopliere ot tobacco Vyfafttfj pLQg'Spa smoke and rum which filled it when the "friends" had been thero nauseated and disgusted her. Her quick intuition led her to believe that her father's "busi ness" was not strictly legitimate. Tho awful truth was only Just beginning to dawn upon her, but all summer, since she had come away from tho con vent in early June, she had felt that matters were not right.. The drunken carousals, the oaths and allusions of crime which her father always tried to stop in her presence all the cir cumstances which surrounded her, dis tressed and mvstlfled her. Mrs. Collls Wood often felt as though the girl had In her an element of tho super natural; but to Dorllla herself this ele ment Becmer even stronger. She felt like two people. She could not realize that she was the same girl who had chased the white butterflies In the con vent garden, studler her lessons In tho quiet school room, and built her fond est hopes on the winning of first med als. Now there was this awful secrecy these coarse men coming to the house at night always by night the con stant injunctions to her to repeat noth ing which she heard said to make no acquaintances these expectations of wealth In the near future and then there was Mlkey, with his handsome face, the love which ho had declared for her and which she herself saw no harm in returning and yet to which her father was so unalterably opposed. It was all so deeply confusing and be wildering that It seemed to her like a horrible nightmare. That Saturday night, five of the "friends had come for Sunday, and there was a great supper to clear away, Dorllla wiped the dishes In tho kitchen for her mother, saying little or noth ing. Then they both sat down for a moment on the cool back steps. Pres ently Mrs. Keasbey spoke chldlngly. "What was you whispering and talk ing so wlthm Mlkey for, RUla? You knotf " "Ves, I know," interrupted Dorllla, Impatiently. "I'm 'tired of hearing about It. I wish you would never men tion Mlkey to me again." Mrs. Keasbey fumed and fretted on weakly, but tho girl made no further reply. Suddenly a great white moth came fluttering down out of tho dark ness and settled upon her ruffled hair, swaying his velvet wings back and forth. The mother started as sho saw It. "Where did that come from, Dor llla?" "Whero they always come from when I'm around," laughed the girl with a little note of triumph In her voice. Mrs. Keasbey got up and went Into then ouse. Sth hsafwlea tmhe thmah the house. Sho was half-afraid of Do rllla, when she was In this mood. Twa terrlblo weeks followed. Tho men remained at the house all the time, sleeping by day and roaming abroad by night. Two or three times the girl questioned her mother, but Mrs. Keas bey either answered nothing at all, or In meaningless general terms, Tho housework, even when performed after that lady's easy methods, was a heavy burden, though the men attempted to help, and one of them, who was a baker by trade, rendered considerable assist ance. They drank more than usual, and Mr. Keasbey was taciturn and morose. Even Mlkey was nervous and drank too much. Dorllla could not get away on Sunday for the class at the schoolhouse, nor any visit with her teacher during tho week. She was in wardly excited to the highest pitch. It seemed as though she must go crazy. On a certain Friday night, the crisis came. For two weeks, every evening, Thomas Keasbey and his men, gather ing singly, from different directions and at different hour, had effected, by means of skeleton keys and other sim ple tools, an entraco Into the room which lay above the vault of the bank. They had raised the carpet there, re moved some planks, and bored Into the adamant cement below them. I3y cau toun and persistent labor, they had now hewed out a Jagged hole In It, large enough to admit them, one by one, Into tho bank below. Tho steel celling had been partially drilled through. Every night, the dust and fragments had been neatly swept Into bags, the planks and carpet had been replaced, tho doors and windows had been securely relocked, and the great burglary had been a little nearer its consummation and Thomas Keasbey had as yet no reason to fear that the slightest suspicion had fastened upon their movements. That day the men slept long and soundly. It was after six when they assembled for their evening meal. The October night was vrarm and close, but they dared not have a curtain up nor a window open. Dorllla and her mother waited on them In silence. The men were nervous and thirsty, but Thomas Keasbey would not let them drink much. "We want clear heads tonight, boys," he said. "Dorllla, fill the glasses once out of this bottle. When we got back, maybe we'll have a little more." They did not sit long at the table, jH w ,, par and Mrs. Keasbey and Dorllla, assisted by Mlkey, cleared up after them in a few minutes. Mlkey was very gentle that night. Even Mrs. Keasbey, who was always "short" with him, In spite of his solicitous efforts to please her, could not help softening a little when she saw how deft and kind he was, but when she marked the glances which passed between him and Dorllla, her anger rose again. "It will take more than Thomas thinks to part those two," sho mused. But In her soul sho felt sure, after all, that the Iron will of her husband would effect his purpose. It did not seem to her than anything could be stronger th'an he. Mlkey at last Joined them In tho par lor, into which the door stood open. Dorllla could hear that tho talking which was going on there was excited, though It was subdued in tone. Mrs. Keasbey declared that she was so tired she couldn't sit up a moment longer, and pottered off to her room upstairs. It was only 9 o'clock, but t.he recommended that Dorllla Bliould go to bed also. The girl obediently fol lowed up the stairs and shut, the door of her room "behind her. She heard her mother moving about on the other side of tho partition. Then all was silent there, but Dorllla herself made no preparations to retire for the night. In stead, she sat by the open window gaz ing Into the warm darkness, and lis tening to tho rustling of the pines. After awhile she went out and sat on the stairway. Thomas Keasbey had heard his wife and daughter depart for their rooms, and he supposed that by this time they were sound asleep. He was therefore talking unreservedly with the men in the parlor. Dorllla could hear almost every word which was said there. She heard directions given for the use of the explosives by means of which the bank safe was to be blown open, and what was to be done with the booty, when the Job was completed and the smoke had cleared away. Then words fell from Mlkey which mado her blood run cold. "The cashier sleeps there now, while all this monev Is there, as well as the watchman. We can manage the watch, man well enough, but two of them won't be so easy and the cashier Is likely to be an ugly customer that Wood. They say he isn't afraid of the devil himself." "Mike, you're a fool!" Dorllla heard Thomas Keasbey rejoin fiercely. "What's that bottle of chloroform for? puti 'uam anoj joj n jo uanoua s.ajoqx It's no use. Then there Is that coll of rope, and you ought to have three or four good gags In your pockets, every one of you. Tie his hands and eyes us quick as you can and don't ask again what vou will do with any man who gets In- our way." Dorllla heard allusions which showed her plainly what use had been made of her drawings. The whole terrlblo plot stood revealed to her In all Its ghast llnoss. She reproached herself for a fool that she had not understood It The Public Knows a Good Thing When It Sees It. . . . That is why the circulation of The Tribune is constantly increasing, and why we are able to state the following facts: FACT 1 TllC TrlbUHO is delivered to more homes and business places than auy other Scranton newspaper. FACT 2 TllC Tribune Is, without doubt, tho best advertising me dlum in Northeastern Pennsylvania. FACT 3 The Tribune prints moro news and contains nioro exclusive features than any of its competitors. FACT 4 TllC Tribune consists of 10 pages daily, except Saturday, upon which day a magnlllcont 10 page paper Is Issued. FACT 5 TllC TrlbUUC contains no boiler plato or "patont" matter. Every lino Is carefully selected and woll edited. FACT 0 TllO Tribune has, since its birth, constantly set tho pneo in the journalistic raco in this section nnd today has out distanced all competitors. Tho Tribune leads, tho others try to follow. FACT 7 The Tribune is tl-o best nowspapor in tho stato, outside of Philadelphia and Pittsburg. It costs but 50 cents a month, delivered every morning before breakfast. Subscribe UOW and get the best Copyright, 1S97, by Mitchell & Miller. from the first. Struck with a paralysis or horror, she sat on the stairway, as though she would never move again. (To be Continued). The Cut's Fault. Father Tommy, stop pulling that cat's tall. Tommy I'm holding tho tall, tho cat's pulling It. Life. A 1UVEU IN ARCADIA. Beneath Arcadian skies of bluo lAnd romance haunted air, Tho tangled mountain woodlands through, 'Twlxt moss-grown banks where mai den hair Uncurls its fronds of lacework rare, From rock to rock and pool to pool. Where light tho shadows quiver, With depths all clear and waters cool, From down the laughing river. Here, whoro It widens broad and deep, When Arcatly was new, Tho Indian drovo with graceful sweep His frail built bark canoe: And, treading lightly to the brink Of some deep shaded pool. The stag, broad antlered, stooped to drink The waters clear and cool: Whllo played tho sunbeams to and fro With many a glancing quiver, And now In haste, and now mora slow, Flowed on the ehlnlng river. Slow loitering through the meadows green, As if to catch the gladness Of sun-kissed grass ajrl emerald sheen, Iteflcctfd back In eauness; Then leaping llko a thing possessed, A demon struck with madness! From rock to rock a foaming swirl Of waters sweeping down, From bank o bank a seething whirl, A curling torrent brown; Till, prisoned in a depthless pool, With many a rippling quiver, Again serene, 'neath shadow cool Flows on tho peaceful river. The Century. HOTELS. THE MURRAY HILL MURRAY HILL PARK, THOUSAND ISLANDS. The best located and best furnished hotel on the St. Lawrence river. Accommo dations for 300 guests. Opens June 25th, 18o7. F. R. WHITE, Prop. Glen Mountain Houso. WATKIN8, BCIIUYLEIt COUNTY, N. Y. On Heueca take. On lino of Now York Con trnl, Pennsylvania, and Lehigh Valley Hail. roads. 1,100 feet above boo. No malaria. New water MorkH, supplying mountain spring water. Sanitary plumbing. Entirely new management. Splendid lUhlne. 000 ncres. Including tho famous Wiitlclns Glon ropulur prices. Spcclnl rotoi for excursion parties. J. It. KfcUNAN, formerly Hotel Chamberlain, Mgr. Address W. K. ltOlJIN SON, 1'rop. DR. C. C. WEST'S NERVE AND. BRAIN TREATMENT THE ORIGINAL, ALL OTHERS IMITATIONS, Ii soldnnder poaitivo Written iJaarontco, by authorized wrapt only, to curs Weak Memory, DizzlncM, Wakefulness, Flu, Hysteria, Oalck nes9, Nisht Ixxgee, Evil pronmn. 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