VOL. XXX.
Mfg. Jennie E£. Zimmerman.
Courtesy
Is extended to all who come to ns. No trouble to PLOW poods, OVEN if you
do not want to buy. ft ie an easj to get out of our store as into it We
think, however, yoa will find it to your advantage not to go away empty
handed.
We Sell Reliable Goods.
It is worth a good deal to you, isn't it, to know you are getting the
best there is of all goods handled in a first-class dry goods house for tie
least money; worth a good deal to know you are getting the correct style in
dreßS goods, millinery, wraps, Ac.
See What We Have for You.
New style Chalies, 5c per yard; beet brown muslin in the city. 5c per
yard; beet and only fast colored black hose iu the city for be per pair, good
prints at sc; best standard prints at 7c; Lancaster Ginghams*, 6c, Dress
Ginghams, 8c to 25c; fine bleached Damask, 63 iacbea wide, worth 75c, for
60c; ull linen towling at 5c per yard. New Wash Gooks; Oudiae Stripes in
• ■lac* with col> red figure, 12£ c, worth 15c; new Crepaline, 15c, Irish and
Grecian Lawnn. 12£ c; colored figure Dimity, something entirely new, 12ic;
l'sautilul line of French Sateens, in black and colon?; Ladies Jersey \ ests
>' 9e; Children'* ribbed vests at sc; Men's fine balbriggan underwear,soc to
£2 a rait; fine black eilk-finished Henriettas, 46 in., for 75c, worth sl. Such
; gh qualities and low prices are certcinly not attempted or equalled by any
< - her house . One glance into our large show window will convince you
« lead iu Milliuery. both in style and qualiy. Ask onr price. We will
you that in this department, as in all others, our prices are the low
est.
MRS. JENNIE E. ZIMMERMAN.
Successor to Ritter & Ralston.
Are Yon One Of The Lucky Ones Who Will
Attend The Grand Clearance Sale At
1 '
For the next two weeks. Remember it
is not our fault if you come too late,it will
commence Jan. 25 and continue till Feb. 4.
Carpets, Cloaks, Underwear, Hosiery,
Gloves, Corsets, Dry Goods, Flannels,
Ginghams, CaJicoes, etc.
See our big bargain counter 011 left
hand side entering store.
YOURS RESPECTFULLY,
A. Troutmari & Son,
i
Leading Dry Goods and Carpet
(
House, Butler, Pa. i
i
Jewelry, Clocks,
Silverware,
Purchasers can save from 25 to 50 per
cent by purchasing their watches, clocks
and spectacles of
J. R. GRIEB, The Jeweler,
No. 125 N. Main St., Duffy Block.
Sign of Electric Bell and Clock.
All are Respectfully Invited
"Remember our Repairing Department — 20 years Experience."—
, RINGS,
Diamonds {SSSffESk
'STUDS,
(GENTS GOLD,
TX7 { LADIES GOLD,
W atcnes \ GENTS SILVER
LADIES CHATLAIN,
Tn W fll J Gold Pin8 ' Kar " rin ? s >
| Rings, Chains, Bracelets, Etc,
{Tea sets, castors, butter dishes
and everything that can be
found in a first class store.
im IRK. 1147
E. GRIEB,
THE JEWELER
No. 139, North Main St., BT7TLEB, PA.,
P ENN'A
White-Sand Oil Co.
[A. STEELSMITH, Manager,' Butler, Pa.]
Dealers in Illuminating, Lubricating, Cylinder and Dynamo
Oils—all free from Lima Oil.
This Oil is made and handled by Independent Producers not con
nected with the Standard Oil Co., as reported.
All orders will be promptly filled. Warehouse in rear of Nicho
as & Hewitt's planing mill, near West Penn depot, Butler, Pa.
Refinery at Coraopolis, Pa., near P. & L. E. R. R.
This oil can be secured at McCrea's Feed Store on E. Jefferson St
THE BUTLER CITIZEN.
BTHE KIND |
f THAT CURES!
1 \ 1
11 1 I
mm JEKOMI: BALL, A»
Bi Waterferd, S. Y. g
F§ TORTURING M
I" Headache for 10 Years V%
■ b a
H Dana's Sarsaparilla
~ "I WAS CURED!" |
B M*. BALL WAS Tirr r: : : r T ■ RRM IF.ISR.B
35 DANA'S IN Coh«»I>. Li v: • =5
■THE KEfI'LT. IN
DAN A SAKS XV \KILLA < o.:
■ CiKNTLI Mr.:.: I hav»r : a .1- r L'.
Hoailache the lawt t«*n j»... . L
Sfa.:
Sam I decided to try on • Ti- ■ »•*."
■1 greatly relieved me, o».-« by •• t.-n- I t:.;. ."JP
Stwoniorc bottles I WAS MJKEU. I —3=
jMj
« DANA'S
■ SARSAJL'AIHLL \ |
guaiiufe and r?lI:»Wc m* viiel'i".
S Wrterforl, BALL. ||
' 3 The truth of Mr. Ball'* •taiement i» •■ r t.-d : >===
Sb? M. MCDERMOTT. jgm
mm Cohoo*, N. ¥. Pharmacist. ■■
S= Dana Sarsaparilla Co., Belfast, Maine. |P
feed. For prices add t rms. Ad
drefcs,
J. W. MILLER,
131 M<rcer S: , Puller' Pa.
A $25 Gold Watch
KRKK. F
With every dollars wor'fa of jroods
purchased, ycu tiro given uesa oa
the length of time it will ake tiio
watch to run nowo, and the oue
the nearcbt will get the
wateb. In ca-e of a tie the one hav
ing bought thf most will get it.
The watch will he :-rarted June
13ih at nine ••'c\u<:'£ A. M , and no
gUfSfiiDg will be taken after that
time.
Wo <">n also ?ave \ou-money «n
every article in one stocks of Cloth
ing, Ilate, an i Gents Furnishiuga.
THE RACKET STORE,
120 S. M:iin St.. : : Butler. Pa.
SPRING
STYLES
READY.
YOU WILL CERTAINLY
HAVE A SUIT MADE TO
ATTEND THE WORLD'S
'FAIR. YOU CAN AF
FORD IT, WHEN YOU
SEE THE SPLEN
DID ASSORT
MENT OF
MATERIAL,
AND THE MOD
ERATE PRICE AT
WHICH WE MAKE
YOU A SUIT THAT IS
■CORRECT TO THE LATEST
DECREE OF FASLI ION.
-I?
Aland's,
Tailoring Establishment.
C. & D.
ALWAYS
Take into consideration that m .nov
saved is as good as money earned.
The best way to Have money ia to
buy good goods at the right price.
The only reason that our trade is
increasing constantly is the fact that
we handle only goods of firet quality
and Bell them at very low prices.
Wo have taken il care to
provide everything new in Hats and
Furnishing Goods for this season,
and as we have control of uiai.
especially good articles in both liner
we can do you good if you come to
us.
We conGdontly say that iu justice
to thems.-lves all purchasers should
inspect our goods.
Visit us,
COLBERT & DALE,
242 S. Main street,
Butler, Pa.
I. P. JfcJllXKlfi,
Insurance and Krnl Estate As't
17 EAST JEFFERSON ST.
BUTLER, - PA.
]. % l ifli U
itiwi' '■ 'witi
"AKI: VOU SATISFIED WITH THE TREATMENT OF THIS SLAVE YOU HAVE GIVEN ME?"
\ v /-**•
"WHO ARE YOR, AND WLIIIXCE COME YOU?" SHE ASKED.
Night lay —a balmy, perfumed sum
mer's night—upon the broad plains,
the castled heights, the blooming vine
yards of the Danube. On a high rock
springing abruptly up from the water
the castle of Thurzo was perched. At
its foot nestled the straw-roofed huts
of a little village. Slumber brooded
over all above in the high vaulted
chambers of the castle; below in the
low clay huts of the village. Only the
young and lively wife of the lord of the
cattle still kept her vigil.
The attendants, indeed, believed
their mistress to have been asleerv«om~
hours back: but unknown t > all she
had arisen from her couc.. -nil now sat
alo- on a small balcony that Lung,
per ed like a marten's nest, high up
in one of the buttresses of the castle.
As the lady sat there drinking in the
beauty all around her, the strains of a
violin, exquisitely played in the valley
below, fell upon lier ear. It was a
wonderfully sweet and subtle melody
that now broke the stillness of the
night, and fell like balm upon the
heart of the listener. She sat there
listening eagerly, intently, until the
last note died slowly away.
The next night, however, while
seated as before on lier balcony and the
music again falling on her ear, the
countess summoned her maids and or
dered messengers to be sent in search
of the unseen musician. A jiage re
turned presently bringing a gypsy with
him. The gypsy wore a blouse of scar
let linen, his feet were bare, and no
covering was upon his long, black elf
locks that hung divided about his
brown, lean face; in one thin, tawny
hand he held a battered old fiddle. In
obedience to the countess' commands,
he began playing one of those wild mel
odies that form such a fitting accompa
niment to the strange, beautiful
dances of his race. In reply to the
countess' questioning, he said that his
name was Asboth; that for the present
he and his wife were living in one of
the huts in the village below. Soon,
however, they would go back to their
tribe, and resume their wandering life.
The countess, who was anxious to
keep him near her, proposed to him to
enter her service. The gypsy con
sented, but with the proviso that when
the desire should come upon him to
resume his free, wild life again he
should be at liberty to do so.
Some weeks after this, by a strango
freak of destiny, the countess and the
fypsy woman gave birth on the same
va and at the same hour to boys.
To the wife of the gypsy the young
count was given to nurse, and in her
care and to the music of Asboth's vio
lins the two children grew up. From
the very first, the sou of the count man
ifested as much love for and skill at the
instrument as the tiddler's son himself.
Stephan, count of Thurzo, loved indeed
the violin better even than horse or
hound or faleou, better than tilting at
the lists or riding in the tourney, bet
ter, far better, than all study of books
or rusty parchments. Both children
wore apt and willing pupils of Asboth;
and Count Thurzo, observing this, gave
each of the lad* on histwclfth birthday
a fine and valuable violin.
Time passed on, and the children were
now tall, handsome youths. The love
they bore each other was as deep and
fervent as that of twin brothers. In
appearance, however, the, were quite
unlike. For Gezas, the gypsy, was as
brown :: a hazlenut, but Stephan, the
count, red sii.d white as a flower.
When from time to time Asbotli left
hi.s home to go wandering 1 , fiddling
through tile land, the two boys never
failed to accompany him on these pil
grimages. Although Stephan's parents
tried to keep him home at their side,
they were powerless to do so. En
treaties, threats, punishments even,
could not keep him from his beloved
gypsy playmate and comrade. One
day, however, when the lads were tall
stripling's of 18 or I'.'. Asbotli fell heav
ily to the ground, his preeious fiddle
dropping: from his brown, nerveless fin
gers. His young companions hastened
to raise him up, but it was already too
late, he was dead. He had died, how
ever, as he had wished to die, on the
high-road, the blue sky above him, the
green turf beneath, lie was buried in
the shade of the linden-tree where he
fell, with his precious fiddle lying on
his breast. The lads returned to the
castle directly after, bringing' the news
of their companion's fate with them.
For some weeks after, they remained
quietly at home; then again the
longing for their wandering, trouba
dour life attacked them, and this time
fctronger than ever before.
They had been oil the road some days
when one hot. sultrv afteruoo" *»><«•
iiirTLER, PA.,FRIDAY, J UNE 9, IS9B.
found themselves just outside the gates
of the town of Prcsburg. They were
weary and footsore, and laid themselves
down beneath a wide-spreading elm
tree to rest. Lying there half asleep,
they were suddenly aroused by the
sound of a hunting-horn in their imme
diate vicinity. Directly after, a stag
purs -d 1 ••.- dogs and hunters burst
fron. . thicket not far away from them.
A huntress rode at the head of the
tro'M>. a young and beautiful woman.
When the stag had been brought to
bay, it was she who, dismounting, came
forward to give him the de^th-^ii^ike.
WUUU la >I R TTrsmr- •>' I ■"* > ' |T > «T»*-
11* a was about to ride- av/ay agviin,
Svephan seized his violin and played, a
soft, yearning melody. The lady, turn
ing lier horse, came up to where he lay
beneath the tree, and. drawing rein,
remained listening in silence till the
last straiu had died away. Slu> gazed
long and attentively at the count, then
asked imperiously:
"Who are you? Whence come you?"
"We are strolling musicians,"
answered Stephan, modestly, yet with
out a trace of servility in mind or tone.
"We are called, in the country round
about, 'the two fiddlers.' "
The lady nodded her head thought
fully.
"I have heard of you before. You,
however, are no gypsy, no strolling
fiddler. How is it that you lead the
life of one?"'
"The love of music, of change, of the
sight of fair smiling faces, causes me
to journey, fiddling, about the land,"
he returned, looking at her with eyes
■ns proud and unflinching as her own.
And if she was struck by his handsome
face und nobility of form and stateli
ness of bearing, he in his turn was no
less fascinated by her wonderful beauty.
His eyes rested admiringly on her slight,
supple figure, which her elose-fittiug
habit of dark green velvet set off to
the greatest advantage; on her dainty
little head with its long, dark ringlets,
on which a little cap of velvet with
heron's feathers was jauntily perched;
on her dark blue eyes that smiled down
at him as he stood there before her.
"Would you not like to enter my ser
vice?" she asked, after a few moments'
thoughtful consideration of the two.
"Too great an honor for us, gracious
lady," interposed Gezas, suddenly. He
too had examined the lady as atten
tively as his companion, but unlike him
he distrusted and disliked her from the
first glance.
"Hut we will gladly pass a few days
beneath your roof, if you will allow us,
gracious lady," Stephan hastened to
add, eagerly.
"Very well," she returned; "follow
my train into the #ity; you will not be
able to keep up with us, but any child
you meet in the street will direct you to
the palace of the Princess Irma Graf
sallcowicli."
She nodded and galloped off, followed
by her suite.
Stephan was already acquainted with
her, at least by reputation. She was a
widow, much courted and sought after,
but who hail as yet shown no desire to
put her head beneath the yoke of
wedlock a second time.
The court at Presburg rivalled in
splendor that of the emperor's at
Vienna, and in its patronage of poets,
artists, and sculptors that of the Medici
at Florence.
She took also a lively interest in
politics, and was supposed to favor the
Imperial party, though at the same
time managing to keep on friendly terms
with Kakoczy and the paslia-governors
of the provinces in Hungary under the
dominion of the sultan. Neither party,
however, could boast of having attached
her to its side, and she was therefore
courted and distrusted by both.
When the princess had returned to
her palace and had dined, she remem
bered suddenly the two wandering
minstrels she had encountered in the
morning.
She sent for them and had them
ushered into her boudoir. The princess
received them lying on a splendid Turk
ish divan, alone and unattended.
Stephan entered the apartment, fol
lowed at a distance by Gezas. He
bowed low before lier and silently
awaited her commands.
"You are no gypsy," she began
abruptly, after eying him for some
moments in silence. "No strolling,
wandering minstrel, at least by birth.
Were you stolen when a child from
your home by the gypsies, and have
you Jived among them ever since?"
"No. highness," was the brief answer.
"Who and what are you?" she de
manded with impatience.
"Pardon me, highness, if I for the
present keep that a secret"
What is your name—or is that too a
"Stephan, highness."'
"Play for me. Stephan—but nothing
you have heard or learned. Let your
soul, your heart, speak to mine in
music."
Stephan obeyed. When lie had fin
ished playing the princess remained
silent for a while, then suddenly ex
claimed. "Your music could teach one
' how to love."
"Is love, then, a lesson tc oe learned?'
| ke returned quickly.
"You are no wandering fiddler," she
j replied in her turn. "Let the mask
drop now. It is time. Who are you?"
i "Stephan, Count Tliurzo." he an
swered, flinging himself at her feet and
pressing his lips to her hand.
She smileddown at him and did not
withdraw her hand.
Stephan remained at the palace; in a
short time he was the declared and ac-
cepted lover of the princess. Hut he
was not happy. His fiancee refused to
fcwt any time for the marriage. When
he urged a speedy union, she laughed
at liiin for his impatience or grew rest
less at his importunity. Often she was
cold and haughty to him. as though he
were really a base-born fiddler, living
on her bounty, instead of a great and
powerful magnate. Then Stephan,
growing weary of the treatment he re
ceived at his fickle mistress' hands
would wander off again with Gezas
throughout the country. Several times
he returned to his own castle, vowing
never again to return to I'resburg. lint
the wily princess understood well how
to lure him back again, to keep him se
curely in her toils and at her feet.
One day. however. Stephan. sitting
with Gezas on the banks of the Danube
opposite a little island where the prin
cess had built herself a summer pavil
ion, was addressed by his companion:
Why are you sad to-day, count?'
Stephan gave no answer but sighed
deeply.
"You are tormented by the treat
ment of the princess toward you.
Think of her no longer, my lord. She
is false—in every way. Incapable of
truth or faithfulness. She is in no way
worthy of a love like j-ours."
"You use strange words—you a
gypsy —in speaking of a great and
noble lady."
"True words, nevertheless, my lord.
And 1 can prove their truth. This
princess you love is both false and
cruel, as I can show you this very
night if you choose to have me do so."
"What is it you know about her —
speak."
"I know that this princess hesitates
to bestow her hand upon you, although
she loves you —that is, as much as such
l woman can love—because she is am
bitious and hopes to wed the illegiti
mate son of the emperor. She dreams,
too, with France and Turkey's aid, to
one day sit upon the throne as viceroy
»f Hungary."
"Can this be true?"'
"That it is so you can discover to
aight, yourself. On that island yon
ler the princess will within an hour
aave an interview with Eakoczy. If
rou choose, we can row across to the
sland, and, concealing ourselves in
the grotto near the pavilion, be wit
nesses of what will take place at this
interview."
"What shall I decide?" exclaimed
Stephan, despairingly—"trust her im
plicitly, as 1 love her devotedly, or lis
ten to you, who do not like her and
have always distrusted her?"
"Kelieve and trust in neither of us,
but to your own eyes and ears, and
that too at once. Within an hour you
can see and hear what sort of a woman
it is whom you love and wish to murry.
Aml this vei'y night—only trust to my
guidance."
"That I will do gladly," answered
Stephan.
"Then follow me," returned the
gypsy, and going down to the river he
unmoored a boat lying there, and, the
two stepping into it, Gezas took the
oars und rowed across to the island on
which stood the pavilion.
On reaching the opposite bank, the
gypsy concealed the boat among a
clump of weeds and rushes and the
two crept softly and stealthily through
the thick shrubbery surrounding the
garden until they reached the grotto,
where they concealed themselves be
hind a thick veil of ivy hanging before
the mouth of the grotto. They were
quite secure from all eyes, however
sharp. They had not lain very long in
silence when voices broke the stillness
of the night. Peering through the ivy,
Stephan could see by the light of the
moon a tall, stately man wrapped in a
dark mantle, upon whose arm the prin
cess leaned familiarly. They came
straight up to the grotto and seated
themselves on a bench near it The
moonlight, shining full on the face of
the cavalier, enabled Stephan to recog
nize him as Kakoczy, prince of Sieben
burgen. Every word of the conversa
tion between the princess and her com
panion was now audible to him. From
its tenor he was not long left
in doubt in regard to the rela
tion between the two. They were
betrothed; their wedding would follow
as soon as Rakoczy's ambitious plans
both as regarded the emperor and the
sultan should have been successful.
They parted as lovers part, and it was
with great reluctance that liakoczy
bade adieu to his fiancee. She, on her
part, seemed but little inclined to lin
ger. Their ambitious schemes dis
cussed, their plans of aggrandizement
and conquest laid out, she was quite
willing to have her lover go on his way.
It was plain, even to Stephan's jealous
eyes, that ambition was leading her to
make this marriage—her heart was
not in it
Hut he was furious at her perfidy,
furious at seeing his hopes shattered —
at knowing that this fair, false woman
had played with his honor and his af
fections. He determined to fly from
her presence. He would make her no
reproaches, he would go this very
night—and without a word. That
night Irma heard beneath her chamber
windows the music of Stephan's violin.
She smiled as she listened, little know
ing that it was a farewell her lover was
bidding her —an eternal farewell.
When she became aware, however,
that Stephan was gone, and forever,
she sought to win him back again. She
sent messenger after messenger after
him to bid him return to her. As mes
sages proved unavailing, she had re
course to writing. Letter after letter
followed Stephan after his return
home. Hut all her endeavors were
fruitless. Stephan refused to listen to
her messages; ho left her letters un
answered. Then her love, rejected,
disdained, turned to hatred, bitter,
burning, furious hatred. All her
thoughts were now of revenge-re
venge 011 the lover who had deserted
her, who scorned her so bitterly. He
gave her no reasons for his desertion of
her
In the meantime Stephan remained
quietly at home with his parents, lie
gave up, for some time afterward, his
troubadour-like wanderings about the
country with his foster-brother Gezas.
Only when he received authentic in
formation of the princess' marriage to
her former suitor Siebcnburgen and de
parture for the bridegroom's castle in
Hungary did he resume his wanderings.
One day, however, when in the neigh
borhood of a forest ou the edge of the
pasha of Ofen's domain, the two musi
cians beeaine suddenly aware that they
were being followed by a man oil horse
back This horseman appeared, how
ever, rather to be a spy upon their
movements than to have any intention
of attacking and robbing them. They
hastened their footsteps, as the neigh
borhood was unknown to them, aud
titeir clu|e proxjioity to Tufkkh ttrri
torr not reassuring 1 .
They soon, however, vueooded in leav
ing the forest behind them. About a
mile farther on. they eaiue upon a
ezarda (inn 1 and entered it The horse
man had some time be fore ridden away.
During the niffht. however, when Stc
phan and Gezas hail retired to rest,
there came a loud knocking at the door
of the czarda. On the innkeeper's open
ing it. a band of armed and masked
men pushed violently pa*t him into the
house and entered the chamber where
the foster-brothers were lying, and, bid
ding them arise and dress as quickly as
possible, bound them and carried them
oft. On they went through the dark
ness until they came to a blight emi
nence where a group of mounted men
were drawn up. By the flickering' red
of the torches the prisoners could
see that these last were Turks. To
them they were handed over by their
captors. The leader of the troop, after
looking closely at the prisoners for
some moments in silence, exclaimed:
"The gypsy Ido not want. Let him
be off." And Gezas, who would have
lingered near his master, was driven
away by blows of the horsemen's long
whips. Stephan. however, was bound
securely to a horse and the troops gal
loped off After some hours' journey
be was brought into the presence oi
the pasha of Ofen. The latter measured
him with haughty looks of exultation,
und exclaimed in exultaut tones: "You
are now my slave: aud in my service be
sure you will be taught, and thoroughly,
the virtues of obedience and humility."
Aud now be'-r.iu for Stephan a tiineoi
unmitigated and unameliorated misery.
He was given the hardest tasks, loaded
with chains and every indignity. He
was attached-to the personal suite of
the pasha, but this was done, not as a
favor, but to give his captor an oppor
tunity of pursuing him continually
with a tyrannv and severity that knew
no abatement *
The pasha seemed really to revel in
inflicting torments and humiliations
upon his victim. Stephan's belief, that
this inhuman treatment of him was
due to the hatred feltby a fanatic Turk
toward oue whom he knew to be a
Christian, was soon to be dispelled by
an incident that took place some weeks
afterhisimprisoument One day he was
taken by two soldiers into a field ad
joining the pasha's place: there he was
harnessed to a plough and driven in the
furrows. When he stumbled or reeled
from fatigue and weakness, he was
driven forward by heavy blows from
long whips of bullock's hide. While
this scene was being enacted, the pasha,
accompanied by a woman wrapped from
head to foot in a thick veil, came into
the field, and from a small hill in the
middle of it stood watching the spec
tacle in silence.
At last Stephan fell face forward to
the ground, and lay there moaning,
unable to rise in spite of the blows that
were rained down by the drivers on his
prostrate, quivering body. At that
moment the woman, stepping up to
where he lay, and spurning him with a
tiny foot incased in a gilded slipper,
threw back her veil, revealing to the
tortured man's haggard eyes the faoo of
his former mistress, Princess Irma.
"Ah, you recognize me, then, Connt
Thurzo," she exclaimed, laughing
scornfully. Stephan making her no re
ply, she went on furiously, "I am she
whom you swore to love faithfully, and
then basely deserted."
"That is a falsehood," he returned
hotly.
"Do not attempt to deny it," she re
turned violently. "Y'ou forsook me.
And I—l have revenged myself well on
you—for your treachery. It was I that
delivered you Into the pasha's hands,
that made you his slave—and your slav
ery will be a perpetual one. Of that I
have taken care. The ransom your
parents have already offered the pasha
has been scornfully refused by him.
No ransom—not even that of a king—
could free you from his bonds. You
will die a slave, a tortured, miserable
wretch, who will desire death, and long
for him as for a deliverer."
Stephan gave no answer. With the
patience of a Christian and the courage
of a hero he submitted silently to the
inevitable.
That very evening, however, at sup
per, while waiting at table on the
pasha and the princess, he was again
subjected to gross indignity. "Down
on your face, slave," thundered the
paslia in stentorian tones, and, motion
ing with his hand to three black slaves
standing near, Stephan was flung by
them face downward on the floor before
the pasha. He placed his foot on the
neck of the prostrate figure and turn
ing to the princess seated at his side in
quired:
"Are you satisfied now, princess, with
my treatment of the slave you have
sent me?"
"Quite satisfied," she answered, cast
ing a look of gratified hate and malice
at Steplian, lying in the dust befora
her.
While Stephan was the victim of a
slighted woman's vengeance, Gezas
sought assiduously for a way to liber
ate his master. He managed at last tc
effect an entrance into the pasha's pal
ace in the disguise of a peddler.
In this garb he penetrated into the
harem and discovered, among the in
mates there, a young girl whose heart
had been touched by the sufferings and
indignities that the captive nobleman
was subjected to by the tyranny of the
pasha.
One night, therefore, Stephan, lying
sleepless in his cell, heard the sound ol
a violin played softly beneath his win
dow. He recognized the air as one that
he and Gezas had often played together.
Directly after, a stone, around which
a slip of paper was wrapped, was flung
in at the window. On the paper was
written: "To-morrow night—midnight
—in the east arbor in the small garden."
A few more notes, played softly, fol
lowed—then all was silent as before.
The next night at midnight Stephan
stole unperccived into the garden and
concealed himself in the arbor. To his
great surprise, after waiting some min
utes, there appeared, not Gezas, whom
he expected, but a slight, veiled female
figure.
He mistrusted treachery at first, but
was reassured when, on the figure
throwing back the veil, the beautiful
face of one of the ladies of the harem
was revealed. It was that of a young
girl who only a short time before had
been brought as a slave to the pasha.
These two, captives though they were,
had yet managed to exchange glances
glances that spoke pity on her side and
profound admiration on his. Falling at
the feet of the lovely Zobeide, StepliaE
covered her small hands with kisses.
"Only a word is necessary," she
whispered, "do you really love me?"
"With all my heart—from my inmost
soul."
"I will help you to escape," she re
turned: "but if you would regain youi
liberty, you must trust and obey me
implicitly."
"That I will do cheerfully," he an
swered, smilingly.
The lady seemed about'to speak again
when a low note from Gezas' fiddle
warned them to separate immediately.
A whole week of suspense was now
passed by Stephan. During that time
he heard nothing of either Zobeide oi
Gezas.
One morning, however, when Stephan
had almost given up hope of ever effect
ing his escape, as he was waiting in the
ante-chamber of the pasha while the
latter was holding an audieree. Gezas,
in his guise of a pedler, came quickly
into the room and slipped a scrap of
paper silently into his hand. On it
were scribbled a few words \v liich in
formed him that on that very evening
after sundown the ladies of the harem
would be taken to th« baths on tjt.
Margaret's island, %ii Island ia ths
Danube a short distance away from the
pa!*ce of the pasha. They would be
takaii out to the island in a paliey
rowed by slaves and guarded by two
eunuchs. Stephan was to slip into the
g-arden. and. as there would be no moon
that night, he could swim to the island
and under cover of the darkness hide
himself among the tall reeds that grew
on the banks. When, that evening,
the bark had sailed away to the island,
the count stole into the garden, and,
climbing the wall surrounding it,
dropped into the river and swam to the
opposite bank. The bark had already
landed, and as he lay there hidden among
the reeds he could hear the voices and
soft laughter of the ladies proceeding
from the bath-houses near by.
Suddenly from a little red-roofed
kiosk a silvery veil was wared once,
twice, thrice. Directly after, a boat
put off from the opposite bank and ■
rowed swiftly and silently toward the .
spot where Stephan lay concealed. Aa ;
it crime closer, the watcher could detect,
even in the obscure half-light, the well
known form of Gezas. A low whistle
from the count enabled the rower to
push his lioat in where he lay. Re waa
helped into it by his faithful friend,
and. after a few moments of anxious
waiting, light footsteps wore heard
running down the bank and Zobeide
appeared, peering anxiously around for
the boat Stephan jumped quickly ont
again, and, lifting up the lady in hia
arms, waded out again to the boat,
where, after placing her in it, he fol
lowed. A few rapid strokes of Gezas'
strong arms sent them flying down the
stream
In less than a half-hour they were
outside of Turkish jurisdiction and in
the dominion of Hungary. All danger
was now over.
One can well imagine the joy and
rapture with which Stephan's parents
received their long-lost son again, and
the latter's gratitude toward the fair
Zobeide and faithful foster-brother.
Hardly, however, was their son at
home again than the hearts of both his
parents thirsted for revenge on the
cruel and haughty Turk who had im
prisoned and ill-treated him.
Heralds were sent by Stephan's father
to the pasha of Ofen challenging him
to mortal combat with his whilom cap
tive. Others were sent to the consort
of Princess Irma with a similar mes
sage. No notice was taken of the chal
lenge. One night, however, not long
after, the pasha, at the instigation of
Gezas, who had corrupted a gypsy slave
of the Turk's, was seized by his own
- body-slaves, bound hand and foot, and
thrown on board a vessel at anchor in
the Danube. It was the intention of
Gezas. who commanded this vessel, to
carry his prisoner to Stephan, to be
dealt with as the latter might deem fit.
But an alarm having been given by
other inmates of the palace, galleys
were sent in pursuit of the vessel to
rescue the pasha. When the captors
of the Turk saw that their pursuers
were gaining on them, they set upon
the pasha and slew him as he lav there
bound upon the deck. Than jumping
into the river they endeavored to escape
by swimming. They were fired on by
those in pursuit, and many killed.
Gezas, however, got off safely and made
his way back to the castle. Shortly i
afterward, the I'rincess Irina's castle
was attacked by Steplian and a troop
of his retainers, the lady taken prisoner
and confined in one of the towers at
Thurzo Castle. Here she languished a
year, when she was set free, it being
the occasion of Stephan's
Zobeide. The fair infidel remained at
the castle in the care and under the
guardianship of Stephan's parents.
During that time she was instructed
in the tenets of the Chris tain religion
by the chaplain of the castle.
She was baptized and married on the
same day.
In the great picture gallery of the
ancient castle of Thurzo, two portrait*
hanging on the wall never fail to at
tract attention and admiration. One is
the portrait of a handsome, blond man
wearing the dress of a magnate oi
Hungary; at his side hang's a short,
curved, jewelled sabre, while in one;
hand he grasus a violin.
The other portrait represents a beau- j
tiful, dark-eyed, dark-haired young
woman dressed in Turkish costume j
From her white shoulders droops a long
caftan of silver brocade; her darli
tresses are surmounted by a turban oi
filmy silver gauze.
All Improvl«e«l Lakn.
A strange phenomenon is now being
observed with special interest by the
inhabitants of Sprottau and its neigh
borhood. In the southwestern portion
of this district there exists a tradition
to the effect that, near the village of
Koberbrunn, a large lake comes into
existence every thirty-flve years, and
then gradually disappears. The
younger generation have hitherto
treated the reports of their elders as
pure fiction, but recent facts have been
too strong for them. The area of the
lake, now covered with a dense fii
plantation, covers over a depression in
the ground to the extent of 400 (Ger
man) acres. This surface, at ordinary
times perfectly dry, is now half sub
merged. The water is rising rapidly in
this basin, the trees are doomed to de
struction, and what was a short time
ago the camping ground of stags and
roes, is now a vast sheet of water. In
olden times the lake was called the
Faudensee.
In a Nutshell.
She—What is the difference between
the old game of football and the new
game?
He —Formerly they kicked the ball,
now they kick each other.
Too Sudden.
Dicky—What makes you look so sad
Jacky? Did she refuse to name the
day?
Jacky— That's just the trouble She
named next Thursday.—Truth.
Iteanon in All Thing*.
Bingo (at breakfast) —Seems to m«
those waffles come up very slow.
Mrs Bingo—My dear, the cook hasn't
had her breakfast yet—Judge
Where It Went.
Mrs. Kerstyle— l gave you more mate
rial to make this dress than I ever used
in a garment before, and the skirt ia
hardly full enough to fit a. churn. How
does this happen?
Dressmaker (shrugging her shoul
ders)—Madame inseested on having ze
sleeves in zo height of ze fashong.—
Chicago Tribune.
A Discovery.
"I got a very clever counterfeit dol
lar the other day."
"Get it in change?"
"No; Wadslelgh loaned it to noe "
"Wadsleigh? How did you discover
it was counterfeit?"
"Bit it to see if I was a wake. "-'■ Ch
icago Record.
City Steam.
Teacher —Do you know what staam
is?
Little Girl—Yes'm; it's something
that cracks awful and never gota warm.
"Humph! Where did you get that
idea?"
"Our flat Is heated by lit."—Good
News. __
Capital Definition.
"Say, pa," asked a little) iHghlapd
Park youngster of hia parent, "What is
a phenomenon?"
"A phenomenon, my son,< Is a wonaan
who doesn't make a m(t Idas her
dirty, slobber-mouthed baby.' I —<D*s
Moines t
ISTO. 28
USE FOR SCRAP TIN.
A Good Way of Making Wire Fence* VUU
ble to Live Stock.
One great objection urged against the
nse of both barbed and plain wire for
fencing is the liability of injury to
stock by running into it, simply be
cause the wires are so small as not to
be visible until the animal is entangled
in the fence. This objection is over
come by the free use of scrap tin, aa
shown in the engraving. It ia beat,
however, to take the scraps from the
shop and at your leisure cut them into
the desired form. Many of them will
be found of the triangular shape, with
one end slenderly pointed, all ready for
attaching to the wire by simply closely
wrapping the pointed end twice about
the wire. Square pieces may, be hung
from one corner, and closely pressed to
tV :■ wire with a pair of pinchers. Five
o. six pieces attached to the top wire,
—t • ■ ■-■ in
y —[ *: r '
WFRK FEXCE WITH TIN SCRAPS.
between ea-.-h post, will prove more
useful where horses and cattle are pas
tured than if the same number were dis
tributed over all the wires. On barbed
wire the tin scraps will remain where
placed, while on plain wire the action
of the wind is liable to work them to
ward the post; hence, on the latter,
wrap them as closely as possible, using
pliers freely. The scraps may be cut to
uniform size, or sorted over and those
of nearly the same size placed in each
section. Thus they will present a neat
er appearance than if applied regard
less of uniformity. Where scrap tin is
not obtainable, old tin fruit cans, palls
or pans may be used.—American Agri
culturist.
AGRICULTURAL EXHIBIT.
Thirty-Five Foreign Nations Represented
at the Chicago Fair.
In expositions of the past the agri
cultural department has been neglect
ed, but in the present world's fair there
will not only be a fine exhibit by each
of the states of the union in this de
partment but thirty-five foreign na
tions will take part. As a comparative
study there is probably no department
which will receive greater attention.
American methods will be shown near
those of France, Chili, Liberia and Cey
lon. The United States experimental
station will be adjacent to that of
France, in both of which will be shown
the methods of analysing, testing and
advancing agricultural methods and
products.
The following list of foreign nations
that have had space assigned them,
with the number of square feet each oc
cupies, will give some idea of the scope
and magnitude of the foreign exhibits
in this department;
Great Britain 14,17# Japan 8,0(8
Germany 11.87S Denmark 1,664
Franoe 7,600 Sweden 1.T16
Canada. 7,790 Alesriaand French
Argentine Repub- colonies of Africa 4,600
lfc 5,811 Cape Good Hope . f,IRB
Uruguay 883 Australia ....8.587
Paraguay 1,6® Austria 4,481
Honduras 870. Coy lon 1,881
Siam 702' Spain and the
Chill 1,Z07j Philippine Isl-
Braril 7,853 ands L4tt
Venezuela l,7l2iCuba 1.444
Mextau WifMjtahflirts.nl... » »-
French Colonies.. 1,806 ; Liberia W.
Colombia l,«BiiCuracoa 88.
Ecuador 1,634 Peru .'.... IM
POST-HOLE CROWBAR.
Why This Tool Should Be Foand on Every
Farm.
The crowbar is a tool that should be
found upon every farm. For making
holes for post driving, and for raising
up the sides or ends of heavy articles,
it is quite indispensable. The drive
wheel shaft of an old mowing machine
POST-HOLE OBOWBAJI.
will make a very serviceable bar. Four
and-a-half feet long is a convenient
length. The lower end should be point
ed with steel and hardened, and for
general work a chisel point is prefei 1 -
able to a sharp round point. For mak
ing post holes, or use in staking a vine
yard or setting hop poles, a bar should
be used with an enlargement near the
lower end, as shown in the engraving.
One with a three-inch swell will be
found best, as a four-inch post is readily
driven into the cavity formed by the
bar. The longer the taper the easier it
operates. The distance from the great
est circumference to the point should
not exceed eight inches. —American Ag
riculturist.
FACTS FOR FARMERS.
WHEN you make underdrains be sure
also to make a map locating perfectly
so that they can be found for repairing
without too much digging.
A MICHIGAN farmer paid 5'245 for 145
acres of swamp land which he planted
to peppermint, and this year his income
was nearly $14,000.
IT pays to have sharp tools, even if
.you have to stop on your busiest day to
sharpen them. But a wise farmer puts
his tools in order on rainy days.
BE careful in breeding the stock. A
single mistake made in the selection of
an animal for breeding purpose* may
cause years of labor to correct.
A GOOD housewife in Virginia last
year provided her purse with #77.30 be
fore the holidays with a part of the
season's efforts with four hens. They
hatched and raised eighty turkeys,
which she sold at eight cents per
pound live weight.
EXPERIMENTAL plats show that enor
mous yields can be secured by the use
of large amounts of fertilizers and giv
ing extra care. It is true that no field
has yet given the comparative yields
that have been secured from small
plats, but as long as increased yielda
can be obtained on plats of limited area
the fact stands forth that the same *•-
suits are possible on larger areas.
Needs Cieaniosr.
Brown--1 see that your watch, Rob
inson. is about an hour ahead of sun
time.
Robinson—Yes; I don't know what's
got into the sun lately.—Texas Sitt
ings '
A Shrewd Tailor.
Gentleman — If you will get my coat
done by Saturday I shall be forever in
debted to you.
Tailor—Oh, if that's your game, it
won't be done.—Texas Sittings.
A l'leaxani Embarrassment.
"They say Parkerberry Is financially
embarrassed."
"Yes, he Is. He has more money
than he knows what to do with."—
Puck.
Probably Not That.
Perdita—Weggie and Gawgie are
great chums, aren't they?
Penelope—Y'es; tvro souls with but a
single thought—and hardly that.»-
Truth
After the Elopement.
Bride—Here is a telegram from papa.
Groom —What does he say?
Bride (reads)—"Do not return and
all will be forgiven."—Truth.
Forcibly Persuaded.
"Why did you leave the stage, Prom
tor?"
"I was being continually egged on U
do so."—Detroit Tribune.