VOL. XXVIII PROFESSIONAL CARD?. V. McALPINE, De: ist. Is now permanently In- ■•. at i» South Main Street- Butler. Pa„ 1" ■ formerly ;ceoupl«l by Dr. tValdrou. Dr. N. M. HOOVER, 137 E. WaynejJ*.. office hours. 10 to 12 M. and 1 to 3 P. M. L. M. REINSEL, M. D , Physician amd Scboeon. Kresider.ee at 'M Graham Btreet. Office Frank's drugstore, Main St. L. BLACK, rDTSICIAN AND SLHOKON, New Trout man Building, Butler, Pa. E. N. LEaKK. M. D. J- E. MANN. M. D. Specifies: Specialties: Oynxoology and Sur- Kje. anJ DRS. LEAKE & MANN, Butler, Pa. G. M. ZIMMERMAN. PHYSICIAN AMD BCBOBON. Office at No. to. 8. Main street, over Frank * Co>B Diu/ Store. Butler, Pa, SAMUEL M. BIPPUS. Physician and Surgeom. do. Jefferson St., Butler, Pa. W. R. TITZEL. PHYSICIAN 8. W. Corner Main and North Sta., Butler, Pa. J. J. DONALDSON, Dentist. Butler, Penn'a. r Artificial Teeth Inserted cn the latesTTm- Droved plan. Gold Killing a specialty. Office over Srhaul's Clothing Store. DR. S. A. JOHNSTON. DENTIST, - - BUTLER, PA. All work pertaining to the profession execut -2U2J-P-trucUon trucUon J* i WASHINGTON STREET. " —is r - " MARTINCOURT E3B kCO J L Here we sire down on Cunningham St. Almost every body knows where we are, but if do not, please loo* at the above map. Walk down Cunningham St. on the light hand side till vou come to 216 and you will find us. Here we have lots of room and pay no rent and more than doubled our sales last year and expect to increase them as much this \ear. All who came last year to see if we had as large a stock and k sol FRIENDS:— Another season'is upon us and you will be wanting new shoes suitable to the season. If you will spare us a few moments of your time, it is in regard to Shoes we wish to tall- to you, bettering it will be to uur mutual ad vantage. We hare this Spring a larger and better stock of Hoots and Shoes than ever before. We believe we can supply you with anything in our line that you may need or want, and as the prices of Shoes are largely governed by the expense under which they are sold, let me call your attention to the fact that our expenses are lower than those of any Boot and Shoe firm in Butler. Consequently we can and do give our patrons the best value for their money. We deal only with the best manufacturers, those who origin ate the styles and male shoes to wear. Owing to our long experience, good standing and cash buying, we are enabled to get our goods at the lowest cash prices, another fact to your advantage. Our shoes arc also comfort able and stylish, qualities that are often as much desired as service. Wc will not enumerate any of our prices here, as the few we would have room for might be considered leaders, and we have no leaders. Our shoes are all equally cheap. But we would consider it a favor if you will call and ex amine our goods and allow us to quote prices. Oood treatment will be yours. II c consider it no trouble to show goods. Thanking you for past furors, and again asking for a share of your valued patronage, and in con sequence of such, bespeaking entire satisfaction and a continuance of the same, we remain, Very Truly Yours, AL. RUFF. E¥ERr WATERPROOF COLLAR OR CUFF I THAT CAN BE RELIED ON BE up Not to Stout! To THE MARK Not tO DlSCOlOr? ——————l BEARS THIS MARK. # TRADE ELluloiD NEEDS NO LAUNDERING. CAN BE WIPED CLEAN IN A MOMENT. THE ONLY LINEN-LINED WATERPROOF COLLAR IN THE MARKET. ijfeLL BRE£|*Jl WSOON web? iiMSSS QUICKLY MARRIED 8 APOLIO is one of the best known city luxuries and each time a cake is used an hour is saved. On floors, tables and painted work it acts lik* a charm. For scouring pots, pans and motals it has no equal. If your ■tore-keeper does not keep it you should insist upon his doing so, as it always gives satisfaction and its immense sale all over the United States makes it an almost necessary article to any well supplied store. Every thing shines after its use, and even the children delight in using it in their attempts to help around the house. THE DEATHLESS HEART. fbe flames ran riot o'er roof and wall And wrapped the house In a lurid pall. rhrcush the glare and smoke, through the dla and heat, ill eyes upturned in the crowded street JVere fllled with pity and yearning fear Por the children thought to bo dying there 1 fust at that moment of speechless dread it an upper window the curly head >f a girl of twelve in the red light shone, Her arms In the tenderest fashion thrown Sound her weeping brother of five years old. And her dark locks blent with his locks of gold! The people urged her to leap in vain While the sparks came down like a fiery rain. And the b>iy was dropped 'mid the widening glow To the haven of outstretched arms below: rhe. girl rushed back through the eddying smoke And never a word to the watchers spoke, But swiftly to the n indow came. A babe iu her arms, and her dress aflame! She wrapped the baby in blankets tight And leaped at once with her burden light To the eager hands that were opened wide Fronting the crest of the crimson tide! The Infant, happy and safe at last. Was nulte unharmed by the peril past. But the sister who saved her, though breathing still, Was beyond the reach of all mortal skill! The lire had fed on her cheeks so fair. Nor left the ghost of a dimple there. No trace remained of her eyes so bright— Those marvelous wells of truth and light— And her hnlr, where the sunbeams loved to stray. Like sudden darkness had passed away! The doctor told her, in gentlest tone, She must go through the Valley of Death alone. For his healing art and his wish were vain To bring her back to the world again "Ob' thank you, doctor, but don't mind me, I know you, sir, though I cannot see. "Pre saved our Robbie and baby, too— Twae almost more than I hoped to do— •'But now Tm tired and feel some pain. And I hear a voice like tho far-off rain, "Or Is It—because I know He's near— Oh! tell me, sir, is It Christ I hear? "Our Saviour will take me to His kind breast 'Where the weary cease'—you know the rest." With the words unfinished, but smiling said. The girl sank back on the pillow—dead! When her body was wrapped lin Its winding sheet Twiu found that the terrible smoke and heat Bad raged and reveled In every part. But had left unscathed the stainless heart. The watchers whispered below their breath: "What a wonderful token of life in death!" And a poet, standing In silence near. Spoke out in a tremulous voice, yet clear: "The flame In reverence dared not touch The loyal heart that had done so much. "For more than all triumphs of earthly art Is one grand deed of a deathless heart." —William H. Hayne, in Youth'* Companion. AN EXCITING BOAT RIDE. Thrilling Experience on Shadow Lake with a Raving Maniac. "Good morning, sir—a lovely day." I started rather guiltily from the stoop ing position in which the voice of my unknown colloquist had accosted me. Iu truth and iu fact I was engaged in examining the padlock moorings of a graceful little boat, whose keel lay on the shore, and meditating to myself how very agreeable a row across the crystal lake would be through the silence of the purple August daybreak. "Good morning!" I responded, turn ing to meet the inquiring gaze of a tall, gentlemanly-looking personago, ap parently about thirty-five years of age, who stood leaning against a little gate. He was dark and handsome, with pierc ing eyes, forehead slightly bald, and a jet-black mustache, twisted jauntily away from a small, nervous mouth; and his dress was tasteful and faultless in the last degree. He had taken off his light straw hat to greet me, and now stood apparently awaiting some more definite explanation on my part. "I beg your pardon, sir," I stam mered, rather confused; "I—l hope I am not trespassing on private grounds?" "Why, sir, you are undeniably on private grounds," returned the stranger, smiling, "but I think we won't call it by any such harsh name as trespassing. You are staying in the neighborhood?" "I am staying at the Lake house for the summer," I explained; "and I sup pose my morning walk has led me fur ther than 1 at first intended?" "You are about six miles from the house, sir," returned my companion, courteously. "And judging from your occupation when I came down to the gate, you would not object to crossing back by water?" I laughed and acknowledged the fact. "To tell the truth, sir, I was just thinking how cool and pleasant a short row would be. In fact, if the boat had not been fastened I should most assuredly have braved all conse quences and boldly adventured the ex periment." "I think we can overcome that objec tion," said the stranger, quietly turning to an old ruined tree, whose gnarled trunk overhung the transparent tide, and drawing a key from its hollow depths. "Suppose we get up an appe tite for breakfast together? I am not an inexperienced oarsman myself, and I suppose you understand the art of propelling on the water?" "Just give me aa opportunity, and see if I don't indicate my education in aquatic matters," 1 said, in high good humor, springing into the fairy-like lit tle shell, followed by my new ac quaintance. "Really, sir, this Is an un expected treat I scarcely know how to thank you sufficiently for your oourtesy." "Then do not attempt it," said the gentleman, inclining hia head with a dignified, high-bred politeness which Impressed me more and more in his favor. "I assure yoa the gratification Is entirely mutual. Pull to the right a little; we shall get entangled in yonder floating sheet of water lilies, if we are not careful. Upon my word this is a most perfect morning for the water.'' It was, indeed. Across the diamond glitter of the lake the golden splendor# of an August sunrise were just begin ning to be reflected, and in the dis tance a range of dim, misty mountain peaks leaned against the horizon like far-off sentinels, almost losing their outline In the blue radiance of the cloudless heavens. "I wish I were an artist!" broke al most involuntarily from my lips. My companion smiled. "Need a man be an artist to enjoy the beauties of such a scene as this?" he asked. "A little more toward yonder point, if you please, sir. Now we are out in the channel, and you can pull as hanl or as easy as you choose. The boat will almost move of herself, in fact." He threw down his oars and leaned back in the stern, adjusting his straw hat so as to shield his eyes from the too vivid glare of the morning sunshine. "One scarcely thinks of civilization in such a secluded spot as this," he mur mured, lazily. "I suppose there isn't a living soul within a mile of JUS, always excepting birds and fishes." "I suppose not," I assented. "But, nevertheless, the forms and ceremonies of society cannot entirely be cast aside. May I know whom I have had the pleasure of helping to an hour's pleasure?" I drew my card from my waistcoat pocket, and handed it across, with a smile. "Vernon Cheveley, eh? A very pret tv name. sir. I Cflflgr(rtulal« myself oo BUTLER, PA., FRIDAY, MAY l.*>. IHJH. making your acquaintance. \\ ill you allow me to reciprocate your frank ness?" He bowed low as he presented me with a crumpled bit of brown paper that he extracted from .an old cigar case, t'pon it was inscribed, in staring letters of red ink, the one word: "Albert." "Albert—who?" I involuntarily ques tioned. "Albert, sir!" returned my com panion, starting to a sitting posture, and regarding me with stern dignity. "Prince Albert, sir! Albert of England, Scotland and Wales!" I stared at him, ugha-st. \\ as the man mad, or dreaming? "To your knees, sir!" he said, with a sharp, sudden imperiousness. "Have you no reverence for royalty?" I obeyed his quick sign almost be-fore I knew what I was doing. He smiled complacently, at the same time draw ing a gaudy tinsel star from his pocket, and gravely affixing it to the left breast of his coat. "Yes, my friend," he went on, im pressively, "you are BOW in the pres ence of the " Prinoe Consort of (Jreat Britain! Men have amused themselves by disseminating the idle tale that I was dead: that's all they know about It. lam not dead; and. what is more, I never shall die. lam privileged with the gift of everlasting existence. As long as I wear this jeweled star death can never come near me!" I felt the cold perspiration oozing from every pore in my body; I could almost feel myself grow pale as I be came fully convinced that I was out upon the solitary lake alone with a madman! I had heard, when first I came to this mountain retreat, that there was a large asylum somewhere in the vicinity, but I bad never given the affair a second thought. Now I was reaping the constquences of my own folly and recklessness. His dark, piercing eyes roved rest lessly from object to object. Suddenly they rested on my appalled counten ance. "You don't believe what I am say ing?" The remembrance of what I had often read and heard about the ex pediency —nay, the positive necessity— that existed for indulging monomaniacs to the top of their bent, in whatever whim might possess their minds, oc curred to me, and I hastened to reply: "Of course I believe it! Why shouldn't I?" "Ah, why shouldn't you, indeed? But people are so skeptical nowadays. Now, when Victor Emmanuel was staying at my house and Pope Pius came down by way of the Mediterra nean —take care! where are you go ing?" I had thought to take advantage of the new path into which his troubled mind had wandered to divert our course a little more shoreward; but his cunning, roving eyfr was upon me in an instant. "It —it is getting very hot here," I stammered "I thought, perhaps, we should find it cooler on shore." "Ah-h-h!" he hissed, putting his face so close to mine as to glare up into my eyes, under the very shadow of my wide-brimmed hat; "you're a traitor and a hypocrite, like all the rest of 'em! But I'm prepared for you. See?" And with a burst of laughter, so dis sonant that the very tide seemed to tremble and quiver, he flashed a long, sharp knife in the air, describing a circle of gleaming light round his head. My blood seemed turned to ice in my veins as it dazzled across my vision. "Put up the knife, your royal high ness," I said, counterfeiting an off-hand ease that Iby no means felt. "Where's the use of it between friends? Let's talk about the queen." I was the more anxious to secure his attention as I saw moving figures on the shore, scarcely half a mile away from us, the flutter of a white handker chief, and then a total disappearance of the figures. Help was at hand I was quite sure, if I could only maneuver so as to reach it. "No, not about the queen," said the poor maniac; "that grieves and afflicts me." He closed his knife aa he spoke. "But, do you know," he continued, "I am haunted?" "Haunted?" I said. "Yes—haunted by a horrible, ugly old woman —a witch, or negress, a fe male fiend. Now do you know," he said, moving close up to me, and speak ing in a low, mysterious voice, "she won't let mo alone?" "No?" "She won't. Sometimes she climbs np among the stars at night, and sits there winking through my bedroom window all nightlong. Sometimes she comes jumping down from the clouds among the raindrops, and sometimes— there she is now, with three pair of fins and a face like a fish's!" He uttered an eldritch screech, as he looked down into the clear, shining deeps. "Let's escape from her," I exclaimed, vigorously seizing my oars. "She can't follow us on dry land, that's certain. Pull away." "No, she can't. We might hide among the wood, only, if she should turn into a squirrel and jump up and down among the trees —she does sometimes." "Well, then, we'll borrow a gun and dispose of her," I said, still pulling des perately toward the shore, while the perspiration, cold and clammy a3 mid night dews, streamed down my temples. "What are you in such a deuce of a hurry for?" demanded my companion, rather morosely. "Hold on a little, can't you?" I checked my exertion. Evidently he was in no humor to be trifled with. "No hurry at all," I said, as calmly as possible; "only, you see, the old witch is following you up pretty closely, and —" "We are too near the shore," he in terrupted, abruptly. We were within a few rods of the clustering bushes that I knew con tained help. Oh, heaven, could I but reach their friendly shelter. How like a mass of lead my heart • sank in my bosom as I saw him catch up the oars and strike out once more in the con trary direction. But as he turned his head away I caught up the sheathed knife and flung it hurling upon the shore. "What's that?" he demanded, turn ing quickly round. "It's your witch," I said, as uncon cernedly as I could. "Don't you think we ought to go ashore and see what has become of her?" His eyes roved restlessly along the green bank. "I don't know; what do you think?" "Why, she is your enemy. No doubt it was she who spread the report of your death. You ought to address her in a conciliatory manner; and if you could once bring her to terms, what would prevent you from assuming your proper station once more in England." "That's very true. Here, head her in toward the land. I wonder I never thought of that before." Poor fever-brained lunatic! Even in the consciousness of my own mortal peril my heart ached for the crazy flights of his sick fancy. We were close to the friendly land; the long, silver-green tresses of the wil lows almost touched my throbbing forehead, when my strange companion started to his feet, with a yell that aroused all the echoes floating over the peaceful lake: "Traitor —spy I double-dyed villain! you have been deceiving me. Your hirelings lurk among yonder bushes. But it is in vain!—the royalty of Eng land shall never fall a prey to base arti fices like these He sprang toward me like an infuri ated tiger. At the same time the shore seemed to become alive with hurrying figures, and with a last impulse I caught up the rope that lay coiled in the bottom of the boat with one end af fixed to an iron hook, and threw it des perately shoreward. I could see a tall form plunging waist deep into the water to grasp at it; and then the cling ing arms of my terrible companion were wreathed around me, and I knew no more. "Are you better, sir?"* "Better? Yes—no—l can't tell. Where am I?" "Here, at a little inn, snug in bed; bnt you've had a stormy time of it. What on earth possessed you to go in a boat with that poor gentleman?" "Mad, isn't he?" I asked, with all the frightful occurrences crowding back upon my mind, as one may remember the hideous fantasies of a troubled dream. "Mad as a March hare, sir; thinks he's Prince Albert. They say he's the worst case in the asylum, sir—escaped last night, and has been wandering about the shores all the morning." "Is he safe at last?" "Yes, sir; they had the deuce of a time getting hold of him. though. He threw you overboard as if you had been a willow twig and then swam like a fish himself. Dick Dayton—that's his keep er, sir—says he's got the strength of twentv Samsons in those long arms of his." So ended that long.frightful morning among the peaceful solitudes of Shadow lake; but I carry an everlasting memorial of it in the shape of a single lock of hair that gleams, white as sil ver, among the chestnut luxuriance that curls over my temples. While I live, and while that lock retains its ghastly whiteness, I shall never remem ber my peril and deliverance without a shudder. —X. Y. World. .Modified View*. Mr. Nocaste (hotly)—lt's a shame, an outrage, a menace to American in stitutions, for one man to have a mil lion dollars. Think of the harm he can do with it. Think of the power he wields. Mr. Fortymillion —That's so. I guess I'll have to change my will. Having no relatives, I had concluded to divide my wealth among my friends and acquan tances, and as I left you a million — Mr. Nocaste —Cm—er—a good deal depends on the man, you know. —N. Y. Weekly. Tim Way of the I'aragrapher. She—Why so silent and preoccupied, Mr. Gaggs? He —The theme that agitates my brain, Misa Thurston, refuses to crys talize. If I can make the correct turn In a play upon your name, there is ■eventy-five cents in it for me. How would something about hungering and Thurston for your society do?— West Shore.* At Her Feet. Maiden Lady—l think I will visit a chiropodist while I am Ita the city. Friend —Have you corns? "No." "Bunions?" "No." "Why, then, visit a chiropodist?" "1 want to have it to say that 1 had a man at my feet once in my life."—Light. Advantages of the Pant. First Student (at classical school) —I say, George, what a wonderful race those old Greeks were. Think of their triumphs in art, are hi* acture, philoso phy, literature — Second—Huh! Nothing remarkable about that. They didn't have to spend the best years of their lives learning Greek. —Good News. Ihe Shad Season. Waiter —I expect you to pay in ad vance. Guest —What do you mean, sir! Waiter —No offense, sir, whatever; but the last gentleman who ate shad here got a bone in his throat and died without paving, and the boss took it out of my wages. —Texas Siftings. An t'nkind Remark. Mrs. Peter by—Jones' wife ran away last night. Mr. Peterby—Did she, really? Mrs. Peterby—Suppose I ran away from you, what would your friends say? Mr. Peterby—Humph! I guess they would ask me to set up the wine.— Texas Siftings. A Knowing Youag Woman. He (ardently)—l love you. She (complacently)—l know it. He —I cannot live without you. She—l know it. He —I want you to be my wife. She —I know it. He—Well? She —I "no" it.—Life. He Cotohed Him. Col. Bluff —Yon might as well ac knowledge that you stole the chickens, uncle. I found a piece of the brown coat you wore that night in the hen shed. Uncle Ebon (triumphantly) —Now, I coteh you, colonel. I didn't w'ar a brown coat dat night.—Puck. BREAKING A DOG. .r Smith —Well, Huns, why in the world have you got that bulloon tied to your dog's tail? Hans —He vos got a bad habit ofe keebin' he's tail mit he's Jrgs between. Tint I preak him ofe dat bad habit, ain'd it?— Puck. One View of It. "Is the tattooed man a great man, papa?" asked Willie. "Not necessarily," replied his father. "Why?" "I supposed he must be to have sa man 3' decorations conferred on him." — Munsey's Weekly. It Wouldn't Hurt It. Great Man (angrily)—So you want my autograph, eh? I'm getting pretty tired of this thing, and have got to put a check to it. Borem —Oh, well, sir, I'd just as lief have your name on a check. —West Shore. Getting Back on Him. Mr. Golden Rool—lf King Umberto provokes this country too far, Uncle Sam can take a terrible revenge. "In what way?" Mr. Golden Rool —By sending all hia subjects back to Italy.—Puck. llow He Proposed. Mr. Slowboy—Miss Passe, what do you think Is the best name for a girl? Miss Passe (looking deep into his eyes) —That of the only man she ever loved. —-Light. Gloves and Gloves. Spartacus—Do you ever put on the gloves? Adolphus—Oh, yes. Every time a girl will let me.—Munsey's Weekly. Glad of It. Englishman (with pride)—S!r, I am an Englishman. American (with feeling) Thanlf jfomiqi-rflypfcf'f Bmm.. - _ . A READ OF DEATH. rho Third in tho Thrill'-nj Soriea of "Possibla Cases." A l'hjftlHsii , « Ileinarkable Story 1I«>« an Iron King Came Near Losing Ills Ilea ■ I:i— The Mystery of a K.»re Itullan Mirror. fOOPVTUGIIT. 1.-4*1.1 This is a story that Dr. Clarke I'or* stor told i;ifterdinner: I had had :i busy morning some twenty patients, one ou the heels ->f another —anil now that the last had departed, anil noon was long past, I began to think hungrily <>f my luncheon. Itut just as I got up to leave my consulting room my servant entered and handed me a visiting card upon v.hich was en.-ravi-d the name "Mr. Alexander Carathwaite." "There can l-e but one Alexander Carathwaite," thought I, "and he is Alexander Carath waite, the famous iron king and million aire." "Show him in," I said to my servant. The p.. ison who presently him st lf opposite me struck me as a singu larly healthy-looking invalid; tall, ro bust. with a clear, ruddy skin and a bright gray eye. However, "What is the trouble?" 1 asked. "Well," he answered, "it's a queer case; but to put it briefly, I'm afraid the trouble's here," anil he tapped his forehead. "Let me hear your symptoms." "It's a long story," said he, "and I must begin it at the beginning." Therewith he plunged his hand into an interior pocket of his coat and brought forth a small tissue-paper par cel. "This," he explained, as he un wound the paper, "is rather a valuable antique. It came as a present to my wife the other day from the earl of Salchester, whom we entertained when he was in America a year oi> so ago. As "THIS, MY DEAK, IS you see, it's a mirror. The glass is be lieved to be a specimen of mediaeval Venetian work, and the frame is un questionably a magnificent bit of cinquecento." The whole affair was no bigger than a lady's hand. The glass unusually thick, and fluted round the edge, was veined and spotted and bleared over with a fine mist, like the eye of an aged man. The frame was indeed mag nificent. Oval in shape, and apparent ly of pure gold,—so soft, at any rate, that you could have indented it with your finger-nail—it was sculptured with no fewer than five exquisite nude fe male figures, disporting themselves in fantastic but graceful attitudes amid a profusion of delicately chiselled fruits and leaves. Three of these figures re clined upon tiny golden couches, in each of which was set a lustrous ruby; the other two rode upon conventionalised lions, and each lion held a pearl be tween his teeth. At the base a pair of dolphins twisted their tails together, and formed the handle. Upon a scroll at the handle end were incised the date, 1561, and the Initials, E. D. "It is a beautiful piece of work," said I, laying it aside, "and I envy you the possession of it. But what has it got to do with your visit here?" "Everything," he returned. "It's this way." lie paused for a moment; then he went on: "Last night, after din ner, I picked that little mirror up, and I aaid jokingly to my wife: 'This, my dear is a magical glass. If I hold it over my waistcoat, thus, and you look in, you will see straight through into my heart, and behold the face of the woman I love." So Mrs. Carathwaitc laughed and looked, and of course she saw her own face. Then to carry on the farce, I said: 'Now let me see whether it will show me the fac» of the man you love.' And, always laughing, I held it over ber breast, and looked in." "Yes?" I prompted, as he paused again. "Well, doctor, instead of my own face, what I saw reflected in that glass was a grinning death's head—a skull. I saw it just as plainly as I see you now. I looked at it steadily without moving, for, I should think, three minutes. It never varied. A human skull in abso lute detail—eyes, nose, teeth, even the very seams between the bones perfect ly "distinct. I'm not a superstitious man, b*it I confess the sight gave me the gooseflesh. If I were superstitious, I don't know what I might think. I'm not a drinking man, cither, or else I should believe it was a touch of de lirium tremens. As it is, I'm at an utter '.oss to accouut for it in any way except on the theory that it's the beginning ol some mental disease." He sjx>ke ner- Tously and looked at me anxiously when he had done. He was plainly in a "white funk." "Humph! You say you saw it stead ily for two or three minutes?" I in quired. "Yes." "Then did it disappear?" "It did not disappear till I moved. As soon as I moved the death's head disappeared and I saw the reflection of my own face." "Have you ever had any similar ex perience before? Ever fancied you saw an object just before you that had in reality no existence?" "Never in my life." "Is your digestive apv»xutus in good shape?" "In such perfect shape that I'm never aonsclous of possessing such a thing." "And your general health?" "Superb." "Let me feel your pulse." His pulse was firm, regular and proper in time. "Show me your tongue." His tongue was pink and clean. "Open your eyes wide and look towards the light." His eyes were steady in their gaze, the pu pils contracted readily and the lid dropped spontaneously upon my ap proaching my finger. "Did you tell your wife what you had seen?" I asked. "No; I didn't want to alarm her. She noticed that I stared at the thing In rather a startled manner; but I laughed it off." I was silent for awhile, toying with the mirror and wondering what the case might mean. "Well, what do you make it out to be?" he inquired. "Oh!" I replied, "I can't say as yet. I haven't sufficient data. The trouble may be in your optic nerve; it may be in your liver, and it may be elsewhere still. I should have to put you through a lengthy examination. And just at this moment I am too tired and too hungry to begin one. If you will give me time to eat some luncheon I'll be in better trim." "Oh! certainly, certainly. Only can't you tell me at once whether you think I am going to lose my reason?" "I hardly think you are going to lose your reason," I replied. "And now if you will excuse me for a little. I'll go downstairs and take a bite. IV maps you would like a chop and a glass of wine yourself?" "Oh! no, thank you; no. thank you. 1 shan't IK- able to eat with any appe tite until this fear is «»fT my mind." While 1 swallowed my hasty luncheon 1 thought the matter over. It puzzled me a good deal, but suddenly, as I was folding up my napkin, an idea struck me which, I hoped, might clear the whole matter up. Rejoining Mr. I aratliwaite in my of fice, I said to him: "I have come to the conclusion that this is a ease for a specialist. If you like, I will go to a specialist with you." "I am quite at your orders," he re sponded. "Do you think it's the brain or the eye?" "I hope it's neither; but the specialist will tell us." We entered my carriage, and were driven down town to a famous curiosity shop in Seventeenth stre#t, just west of Union square, the proprietor of which, Mr. Maverick, is esteemed, us every body knows, one of the most learned authorities in antique curios in America. "Here we are," said I, getting out of the carriage. "Will you come?'' "But what are you going in here for?' questioned Carathwaite. "To consult our specialist," said I. My patient looked mystified, but he followed me into the shop. I presented my card, and asked to see Mr. Maverick. In another minute we were closeted with him in his private office. "Will you hand Mr. Maverick your mirror'.'" I demanded of Carathwaite. Maverick took the mirror, and looked it over. lie studied the frame through a magnifying glass. "This is a bit o! work from the hand of Ktienne Del anlne," he announced presently, "one of the most skillful goldsmiths of the sixteenth century. I don't know where you got hold of it, but I may tell you that it is infinitely valuable. 1 have never seen a liner specimen of Delaulne's handicraft, nor one in a better state ol preservation." "And the glass?" 1 queried. "We are especially interested in the glass." "The glass," said Maverick, "is prob ably Venetian. "I must examine it a little." He went to the window, and began to scrutinize the glass, twisting it about, and peering at it from various angles. "Ah, yes, I thought sol" he exclaimed all at once. "Come here, gentlemen," he called to us. He held the glass off at a certain oblique angle, and inquired: "Now, "I SAW RKFI.ECTKD A GRINNING DKATII'S UK AD, A SKILL." when I hold it like that, what do you see ?" Carathwaite simply uttered a long low "Ali-h-hl" "Why, I see a human skull," 1 said "A most perfect image of a human skull. I would swear it was the genu ine reflection of a real one. now it gets there 1 can't for my life imagine." "Ah, that was the art of the Venetian glass- workers," said Maverick. He crossed the room and took down from a bookcase a volume entitled "Manual Arts of Medieval Italy." He ran over a few pages, found his place, and read aloud; "Venetian looking glasses of the sixteenth century were often ornamented with grotesque de signs— serpents, skeletons, skulls, some times crucifixes —produced in the coat ing of quicksilver in such a way as to be risible only at one angle of vision, and then to give the effect of a reflection of some exterior object." "Well, doctor," said Carathwaite, smiling rather sheepishly, when we had regained the street, "you have ef fected r. speedy cure What's your fee?" "I can hardly ask yon a fee, since your trouble was all in the mirror,' I eaid. "I will take it out in telling the story" The gratitude of millionaires is very like that of kings. I have never seen nor heard from Mr. Alexander C aritth waite a grain. When he needs medical attendance or advice he calls upon that notorious humbug- Blank. SIDNEY LCSKA (HARRY HARI.A.ND) LOST COURAGE. & -• ' ffftf "BesL, you h«-ve topt me in suspense long enough. For at least six months I have adored you. I can never stand by and see you in another's embrace necer.' I" "Now, Jack, you know we are too young to talk of anything but nonsense, and besides — m " \v- • * -* ,( »£s>2s "Jack! don't! ! —a£t! I ! silly! 11 I J-a-c-k!" —Judge. N O. INFERIOR SEEDS. f Tfti»y Vrr s uwu • Ciood Crop Xeod Not ■!• Expected. ScctU that are good may fail to grow, k> that good see«ls aa J those that pro- Inee good plants arc not coextensive ierms. Many good seeds fail to.p»o iuce }.'•■">,t plants because there are aianv causes for failure in the produc lion of a plant outside of the seed. For this riii—>n the tests known as fjermi aation trials made in test boxes are lot in .re than su r rgestive guides as to lh.' vitality of the seeds inspected. One of the reasons for a failure of seeds to gTow is tliat they were gath ered before they were fully matured. If one looks at a handful of any seed, whether clover, bean or squash, he will find that so :e seeds arc either small, or light, r both, indicating that they did uot ina;iuv. It is tiatural that a percentage of seeds should be imma ture. as tiio : • 1 vessels do not have all their seeds ol the same age, and at a time wlu-n the greater part are ripe some will still be green. Many seeds are abortive, or for some reason have failed t.> develop. They are not green, but consist mostly of the dry husk or shell. Such imperfect seeds are the most easily removed of all by means of the fanning mill, and there is but little excuse for such being in any abundance iu the market seed. A thir\l reason for poor seed is age. Some kinds bear the passage of years before they beg-in to deteriorate much better than others. The "second summer" with some sorts is quite gen erally fatal, while with other kinds the ( second year must come before they will begin to unfold into seedlings. As a rule old seeds are not popular, and there is good foundation for the gen eral belief that the younger the seed is j the better, after it has passed its first , winter. ! There are many other reasons why seeds are p jor. Among the leading is poor parentage, and poor parentage may mean many thing:"- A parent plant may be poor from coming from a poor seed or it may be due to too great moisture, or heat, or lack of food sup ply. Any onor because they are lacking in those qualities that go to make up a profitable plant. It Is a poor seed tliut will under the most favorable conditions only produee an inferior plant, whether in blossom, foliage, seed or fruit. The seed is poor in possibilities.—American Agricultur ist. BUCKWHEAT AND BEES. The .Upam-ie Has U.en Found Superior to All Other Varieties Ever since I have been engaged in bee-keeping I have been hearing of the good reputation of buckwheat as & honey plant. The good qualities of the common afid silver-hulled have been discussed, and now we have a new can didate for public favor in the Japanese buckwheat. This is the fourth season that it has been before the public. It has been weighed in the balance and found superior to all other known vari eties. The grain is large in siw.P"dgirc3 a very much larger yield of grain. The JAPANESE BUCKWHEAT. quality of the flour is equal to that of the well-known varieties, and ahead of them in quantity. 1 regard the sowing of buckwheat as a sate investment, although in many localities it only yields honey occasionally. Years ago I v.as accustomed to drive by a farm where there was a lovv place near the road, where yearly g*ew the rankest of weeds. The farm changed tenant% and the new one put this piece of ground into and it changed the; appearance of the wjiole farm. The following year I this piece of ground remarkably r1««r of weeds. Low pi;.cos in corn fields are occasion ally drowned out by heavy Ktvs in June, and produce both a®fl calies for their owner. Jnpffnesft VncW wheat is advertised by seedsmen ft* on® dollar per bushel. Prairie Farmer. NOTES ON CORN GROWING. Do NOT put strawy stable or barn yard manure on light soils for corn. The manure will increase droughty conditions to such an extent that it will do more harm than good unless the season is unusually wet. IF your team crowds together in the cultivator, trampling the corn, tie the outside ring of each bit to the end of a stick four feet long, using a string of such length that the stick will hang just under the jaws. This wGk draw the horses apart. IF the ground and air are dry, com press the soil above the corn; but if the ground is wet and drying slowly, do not compress it. If compression is un avoidable, as it is when the two-horse planter is used, loosen the ground with the smoothing harrow. THF. frequency of cultivation should not be measured by days, but by con dition of soil and atmosphere. Cultiva tion should be ofteh enough to keep weeds below the surface, to prevent the formation of a crust on the sur face, and»to keep broken near the sur face the continuity of the crevices be tween the soil particles. —American Agriculturist. A Tale of the Sea. Mrs. niflier—Jack and Amy's meet ing and falling in love, she told me, was very romantic. Miss Murray— Yes. Ihey were sick on the Etruria together. Munsey I Weekly. The Tryst I)Uco«r«d. Primus — I saw Dudley's wife consult ing a lawyer alone to-day. hat s up? Secundus —She is estranged from Dud lev. She has just heard that he prom ised to meet his first wife in heaven.— Life. She Could. Crushed Opponent— ls there anyone in the world who can beat you at sn ! argument? Successful Opponent—Just come home with me and meet my wife. — Munsey'i Weekly. lie Is l>ead. Mrs. Scriblets— l see that the Aristo tle manuscript has been published? Mr. Scriblets — I fear that the P®/" ment for it will be too late to do Mr. Aristotle any good. —Puck. An Implied Refusal. Harrv—Did she positively refuse youl Jack '(dejectedly )-Not exactly. When I asked her if she ever thought of mar rying, she .-.aid she had never yet had « man ask her about it.— Epoch. For the Collection. "The government ought to coin hall cents." growled Mr. Myse*. ••Would you go to church then?" I asked his wife.—Jury.