VOL. XXX.
Mrs. Jennie E- Zimmerman.
Courtesy
Is extended to all who come to us. No trouble to show gtode, even if you
do oot want to buy. It is as easy to get out of our st'ire as into it We
tbink, however, you will find it to your advantage not to go away empty
banded.
Ve Sell Reliable Goods.
It ia 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-?!ass dry goods house for the
least money; worth a good deal to know you are getting the correct style in
dress goods, millinery, wraps, Sic.
See What We Have for You.
New style Cbalies, 5c per yard; beßt brown muslin in the city. 5c per
yard; bail and only fast colored black hose in the city for 5c per pair, good
prints at sc; best standard prints at 7c; Lancaster Ginghams, 6c, Dress
QinffMma, 8c to 25c; fine bleached Damask, 63 inches wide, worth 75c, for
;">oc; ali lineu t.-wling at 5c per yard. New Wash Gooks; Ondine Stripes in
'•lacs with colored figure, 12£ c, worth 15c; new Crepaline, 15c, Irish and
Grecitm Lawo, colored figure Dimity, something entirely new, 12ic;
Heauiiful line of French Sateens, in black and colors; Ladies Jersey Vests
MI 9c; Children's ribbed vests at sc; Men's fine balbriggan underwear,soc to
Si a ►ait; fine black silk-finished Henriettas, 46 in., for 75c, worth sl. Such
i-'gh qualities and low prices are certainly not attempted or equalled by any
»-rher b< uee . One glance into our large show window will convince you
«•* lewd in Millinery, both in style and qualiy. Ask our price. We will
convince you that in this department, as in all otherß, our prices are the low
est.
MRS. JENNIE E. ZIMMERMAN.
Successor to Ritter & Ralston.
Are You 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, Calicoes, etc.
I See our big bargain counter on left
hand side entering store.
YOURS RESPECTFULLY,
A. Troutman & Son,
f Leading Dry Goods and Carpet
House, Butler, Pa.
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., Dufly Block.
Sign of Electric Bell and Clock.
All are Respectfully Invited
—"Remember our Repairing Department —20 years Experience."—
1 , RINGS,
Diamonds
' STUDS, •
(GENTS GOLD,
- W «tr.Vl PC \ LADIES <* OLD «
w atcnes ) gents SILVER
LADIES CHATLAJN,
s >
tl oWclI y j Rings, Chains, Bracelets, Etc,
{ Tea sets, castors, butter dishes
1 Silverware
RODGER BROS. 1847 {SSThJE"*- BpOOM ~
E. GRIEB,
THE JEWELER
No. 139, North Main St., BTJTLER, PA.,
FETSIS'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
ected 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.
MRS. MILI.Y FERGUSON,
Troy. N. T.
I The frdlorrhm t, to DAXA'S
I power ' ft;- OLD ( IfItOXIC Co2l
'• PLAIXTS. trnssnit is It',./, (iroom
! of the well-knoxrn u (f BOOM'S PJfAB
-1 All CIV* 1-0 Congress tit., Troy, X. v.:
GENTLEMEN :—I have been troubled with
MVEK R«ni>Ul\T. »O\STI»VV
TIOK anil UTSPEPSI4 for :i longtime.
| I employed the test Doctor In the csty;
) they tol<{ me
Old Chronic Complaints
mrehardlorue. Tlicir meiliriiic ili.l
me no good. I atoppeil taking it and
i bought a bottle of DANA'S SAR>AI ARIL,
i LA Before I had taken half of U I felt
, better. I have taken three Lottie ■of
DANA'S
SARSAPARILLA!
and am better than for years. IT HAS
DOM: *«.\HI:KS KOK ME. I <nn
rat anythiiic I want and it does not
distress me ui the least.
Yours trulv,
Troy, N. Y. MRS. MILLY FERGUSON.
DANA SARSAPARILLA GO., BELFAST, ME.
feed. For prices a:id t rma. Ad
dreffl,
J. W. MILLER,
131 Mercer S> , But!' r' I'a.
A $25 Gold Watch
J FREE.
With every dollars worth of goods
purchased, you are giveu uess on
the length of time it will ako the
watch to run down, and the one
gnessing the nearest will get the
WHtcb. In cage of a tie tho one Lav
ing bought the ovist will get it
The watch will be started June
13tb at niue o'clock A. M , and no
guessing will be Ukeu after that
time.
We eun also ;-upg you money < u
every article in our stocks of Oluth
ing, Hats, end Gents Furnishiags.
THE RACKET STORE,
120 S. Mrt' !i St. : : Hutler. 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
DEC RE E O F FAS HIO N.
Aland^
Tailoring Establishment.
C. & D.
ALWAYS
Take into consideration that money
saved is as good ns money earned.
The best way to save money is to
buy pood goods at the right price.
The only reason that our trade is
increasing constantly is the fact that
we handle only goods of fir.-t quality
and sell them at very low prices.
We have taken unusual care • •
provide everything new in Hats u-
Furnishing Goods for this set •
and as we hav*» control of
especially good article,- in both lint,
we can do you good if vou conic to
us.
We confidently say that in justice
to themselves nil purchasers should
inspect our goods.
Visit us.
COLBERT & DALE,
242 S Main street,
Butler, Pa.
L, & McJUNKI X
Insurance and Real Estate Ag't
17 EAST JEFFERSON ST.
BUTLER, - PA.
kkiday, .ITXK H>. is:;..
r " ■; " 1 •
4k. . J p I ,
..A :
J :
SHOWN TO HIS CELL.
THE Trr.iTivo ON xnr WALL.
The caßtle of tha Prince of Tolfi was
built ou the summit of the towering'
and precipitous rock of Scylla, and
commanded a magnificent view of
Sicily in all its grandeur. Here during
the wars of the middle ages, when the
fertile plains of Italy were devastated
by hostile factions, those prisoners were
confined, for whose r:>uhom a costly
price was demanded. Here, too, in a
dungeon, excavated deep in the solid
rock, the miserable victim was im
mured, whom revenge i _>rsued—the
dark, fierce, and unpitying revenge of
an Italian heart.
Vivenzio—the noble and the gener
ous, tho fearless in battle, and the
pride.of Naples in her sunny hours of
pea. -the young, the brave, ihe proua
VivenSio, fell beneath this subtle and
remorseless spirit. Ho was tlie prisoner
of Tolfi, and he languished in that
rock-encircled dungeon, which stood
alone, and whose portals never opened
twice upon a living captive.
It had tne semb.ance of a vast cage,
for the roof and floor and sides were of
iron, solidly wrought, and spaciously
constructed. High above there ran a
range of seven grated windows,
guarded with massy bars of the same
metal, which admitted light and air.
Save these, and the tall folding-doors
beneath them which occupied the cen
ter, no chink or chasm or projection
broke the smooth black surface of the
walls. An iron bedstead, littered with
straw, stood in one corner; and beside
it, a vessel with water, and a coarse
dish filled with coarser food.
Even the intrepid soul of Vivenzio
shrunk with dismay as he entered this
abode, and heard the ponderous door
triple locked by the silent ruffians who
conducted him to it. Their silence
seemed prophetic of his fate, of the liv
ing grave that had been prepared for
him. His menaces and his entreaties,
his indignant appeals for justice, and
his questioning of their intentions were
alike in vain. They listened, but spoke
not. Fit ministers of a crime that
should have no tongue!
How dismal was the sound of their
retiring steps! And, as their faint
echoes died along the winding passages,
a f -rful presage grew within him,
that never more the face or voice or
tread of man would greet his senses.
He had seen human beings for the last
time! And he had looked his last upon
the bright sky, and upon the smiling
earth, and upon a beautiful world he
loved and whose minion he had been!
Here he was to end his life —a life he
had just begun to revel in! And by
what means? Hy secret poison or by
murderous assault? No —for then it
had been needless to bring him hither.
Famine perhaps—a thousand deaths in
one! It was terrible to think of it; but
it was yet more terrible to picture long,
long years of captivity, in a solitude so
appalling, a loneliness so dreary,
that thought, for want of fellowship,
would lose itself in madness or stagnato
into idiocy.
He could not hope to escape, unless
he had the power of rendering asunder,
with his bare hands, the solid iron
walls of his prison. He could not hope
for liberty from the relenting mercies
of his enemy. His instant death, under
any form of refined cruelty, was not
the object of Tolfi. for he might have
inflioted it. and lie lnid not. It was too
evident, therefore, he was reserved for
some premeditated scheme of subtle
▼enges- :nd what vengeance could
t' ; fiendish malice either the
slow.u .: ;of famine, or the still slower
one of ■> tary incarceration, till the
last ling " ' spark of life expired or
till re:-;on -1. -ind nothing should re
main to perish but the brute functions
of the V > ; y?
It was evening when Vivenzio en
tered UU dungeon, and the approach
ing shades of night wrapped it in total
darkness, as he paced up and down, re
volving in his mind these horrible fore
bodings. No tolling bell from the
castle, or from any neighboring church
or convent, struck upon his ear to tell
how the hours passed. Frequently he
would stop and listen for some sound
that might betoken the vicinity of
man; but the solitude of the desert, the
silence of the tomb, are not so still and
deep as the oppressive desolation by
which he was encompassed. His heart
sank within him, and he threw himself
dejectedly down upon his couch of straw.
Here sleep gradually obliterated the
consciousness of misery, and bland
dreams wafted his delighted spirit to
scenes which were once glowing reali
ties for him. in whose ravishing illu
sions he soon lost the remembrance
that he was Tolfi's prisoner.
When he awoke, it was daylight; but
how long he had slept he knew not It
niigljt be early morning, or it might be
■vltrjr tor he could measure time
uy no otner note 01 its progress man
light and darkness. He had been so
happy in his sleep, amid friends who
loved him, and the sweeter endear
ments of those who loved him as friends
could not, that, in the first moments of
waking, his startled mind seemed to
admit the knowledge of his situation
as if it bad burst upon it for the first
tim -. fresh in all its appalling horrors.
Hi /.ed round with an air of doubt
ant: amazement, and took up a handful
of the straw upon which he lay, as
tl-'iiirh hj would ask himself what it
meant Hut memory, too faithful to
her office, soon unveiled the melancholy
past, while reason, shuddering at the
task, flashed before his eyes the tre
mendous future. The contrast over
powered him. He remained for some
♦ 4rr-« Hfr* n trnth. t bricrhl
visions that had vanished; and recoil
ing from the pro&ent, which e1 un te
him as a poisoned garment.
When he grew more calm, he sur
veyed his gloomy dungeon. Alas' the
stronger light of day only served tc
confirm what the gloomy indistinct
ness of the preceding- evening had par
tially disclosed, the utter impossibility
of escape. As, however, his eyes wan
dered round and round, and from place
to place, he noticed two circumstances
which excited his surprise and curi
osity. The one, he thought, might be
fancy; but the other was positive. His
pitcher of water, and the dish which
contained his food, had been removed
from his side while ho slept, and now
stood near the door. Were lia even in
clined to doubt this, by supposing he
had mistaken the spot where he saw
them over night, he could not, for the
pitcher now in his dung-eon was
neither of the same form nor color
as the other, while the food was
changed for some other of better
quality. He had been visited, there
fore, during the night Hut how had
the person obtained entrance? Could
he have slept so sotilidly that the un
locking and opening of those ponderous
portals were effected without waking
him? He would have said this was not
possible, but that in doing so, he must
admit a greater difficulty, an entrance
by other means, of which he was con
vinced there existed none. It was not
intended, then, that he should be left
to perish from hunger. But the secret
and mysterious mode of supplying him
with food seemed to indicate he was to
have no opportunity of communicating
with a human being.
The other circumstance which had at
tracted his notice was the disappear
ance, as he believed, of one of the seven
grated windows that ran along the top
of his prison. He felt confident that he
had observed and counted them; for he
was rather surprised at their number,
and there was something peculiar in
their form, as well as in the manner of
their arrangement, at unequal distances.
It was much easier, however, to suppose
he was mistaken than that a portion of
the solid iron, which formed the walls,
could have escaped from its position,
and he dismissed the thought from his
mind.
Vivenzio partook of the food that
was before him, without apprehension.
It might be poisoned; b\it if it w ere, he
knew he could not escape death, should
such be the design of Tolfl, and the
quickest death would be the speediest
release.
The day passed wearily and gloomily;
though not without a faint hope that,
by keeping watch at night, he might
observe when the person came again to
bring him food, which he supposed he
would do in the same way as before.
The mere thought of being approached
by a living creature, and the oppor
tunity it might present of learning the
doom prepared, or preparing, for him,
imparted some comfort. Besides, if he
came alone, might he not in a furious
onset overpower him? Or he might be
accessible to pity, or the influence of
such munificentrewards as he could be
stow if once more at liberty and master
of himself. Say he were armed. The
worst that could befall, if nor bribe, nor
prayers, nor force prevailed, was a
frienclly blow, which, though dealt in
a damned cause, might work a desired
end. There was no chance so desperate
but it looked lovely in Vivenzio's eyes,
compared with the idea of being totally
abandoned.
The nightcame.and Vivenzio watched.
Morning came, and Vivenzio was con
founded! He must have slumbered
without knowing it £lcep must have
stolen over him when exhausted by
fatigue, and in that interval of feverish
repose he had been bnffied; for there
stood his replenished pitcher of water,
und there his day's meal! Nor was this
aIL Casting his looks toward the win
dows of his dungeon, he counted but
FIVE! Here was no deception; and he
was now convinced there had been none
the -ay before. Hut what did ail this
portend? Into what strangle and mys
terious den had he been cast? Ilegazed
tiil his eyes ached: he conld discover
nothing to explain the mystery. That
it was -so, he knew. Why it was so. he
racked his imagination in vain to con
jecture. He examined the doors. A
simple circumstance convinced liim
they had not been opened.
A wisp of straw, which he had care
lessly thrown against them 'he preced
ing' <lay, as he? paced to and fro. re
mained where he had cast it. though if
must have been displaced bv the slight
est motion of cither of the doors. This
was evidence that could not be disputed,
and it followed there must be some se
cret machinery in the walls by which a
person could enter. He inspected then;
closely. They appeared to him one solid
and compact mass of iron; or joined, il
joined they were, with such nice art
that no mark of division was percepti
ble Again and again he surveyed
them —and the floor —and the roof—
and that range of visionary windows,
as he was now almost tempted to con
sider them: he could discover nothing,
absolutely nothing', to relieve his doubts
or satisfy his curiosity. Sometimes he
fancied that altogether the dungeon
hod a more contracted appearance—
that it looked smaller: but this he
ascribed to fancy, and the impressioc
naturally produced upon his mind by
the undeniable disappearance of two oi
the windows.
With intense anxiety, Yivenziolooked
forward to the return of night: and as
it approached, he resolved that nc
treacherous sleep should again betray
lum. instead of seeking his bed ol
straw, he continued to walk up and
down his dungeon till daylight, strain
ing his eyes in every direction through
the darkness, to watch for any appear
ances that might explain these mys
teries. While thus engaged, and as
nearly as he could judge (by the time
that afterward elapsed before the
morning came in) about two o'clock,
there was a slight tremulous motion oi
the floors. He stooped. The motior
lasted nearly a minute; but it was sc
extremely gentle, that he almost
doubted whether it was real or only
imaginary. He listened. Not a sound
could be heard. Presently, however,
he felt a rush of cold air blow upor
him; and dashing tow ard the quartet
whence it seemed to proceed, he stum
bled over something which he judged
to be the water ewer. The rush o;
cold air was no longer perceptible: anc
as Yivenzio stretched out his hands, he
found himself close to the walls. He
remained motionless for a considerable
time; but nothing- occurred during- the
remainder of the night to excite his at
tention. thougli he watched with un
abated vigilance.
The first approaches of the morning
were visible through the grated win
dows, breaking, with faint divisions ol
light, the darkness that still pervaded
every other part, long before Vivenz'n
was enabled to distinguish any objec'
in his dungeon. Instinctively and fear
fully ha turned his eyes, hot and in
flamed with watching, toward them.
There were FOIR! He could sec only
four; but it might be some intervening
object prevented the fifth from becom
ing perceptible; and lie waited impa
tiently to ascertain if it were so. As
the light strengthened, however, and
penetrated every corner of the cell,
other objects of amazement struck his
sight. On the ground lay the broken
fragments of the pitcher he had used
the day before, and at a small distance
from them, nearer to the wall, stood
the one he had noticed the first night
It was tilled with water, and beside it
was his food. He was now certain that,
by some mechanical contrivance, an
opening was obtained through the iron
wall, and that tliroug-H tills opening
the current of air had found entrance.
but huw l ui liau 4*
almost waved at the time, he must have
heard it Again he examined that part
of the wall: but, both to sight and
touch, it appeared one even and uni
form surface, while, to repeated and
violent blows, there was no reverberat
ing sound indicative of hollowness.
This perplexing mystery had for a
time withdrawn his thoughts from the
windows; but now, directing his eyes
toward them, he saw that the fifth had
disappeared in the same manner as the
preceding two. without the least dis
tinguishable alteration of external ap
pearances*. Tho remaining four looked
as the seven had originally looked; that
is, occupying, at irregular distances,
the top of the wall on that side of the
dungeon. The tall folding-door, too,
still seemed to stand beneath, in the
center of these four, as it had at first
stood in the center of the seven. I!ut
he could no longer doubt, what, on the
preceding day, he fancied might be the
effect of visual deception. The dun
geon was smaller. The roof had low
ered —and the opposite ends had con
tracted the intermediate distance by a !
space equal, he thought, to that over
which the three windows had extended.
He was bewildered in vain imaginings
to account for these things. Some fright
ful purpose—some devilish torture of
mind or body—some unheard-of device
for producing exquisite misery, lurked
he was sure, in what had taken place.
Oppressed with this belief, and dis
tracted more by the dreadful uncer
tainty of whatever fate impended,
than he could be dismayed, he thought, I
by the knowledge of the worst, ho sat i
ruminating, hour after hour, yielding
his fears in succession to every hag
gard fancy. At last a horrible suspic- \
ion flashed suddenly across his mind, j
and he started up with a frantic air j
"Yes!" he exclaimed, looking wildly j
round his dungeon, and shuddering aa :
he spoke—"Yes! it must be so! I see it!
—I feel the maddening truth lika
scorching flnmes upon my brain! Eter
nal God! —support me! it must be so!
Yes, yes, that is to be my fate! Yon
roof will descend! —these walls will
hem me round —and slowly, slowly
crush me in their iron arms! Lord God!
look down upon me, and in mercy
strike me with instant death! O fiend—
O devil!—is this your revenge?"
He dashed himself upon the ground
in agony —tears burst from him, and
the sweat stood in large drops upon his
face—he sobbed aloud—he tore his hail
—he rolled about like one suffering in
tolerable anguish of body, and would
have bitten the iron floor beneath him;
he breathed fearful curses upon Tolfi,
and the next moment passionate pray
ers to Heaven for immediate death.
Then the violence of his grief became
exhausted, and he lay still, weeping
as a child would weep. The twilight
of departing day shed its gloom around
him ere he rose from that posture oi
utter and hopeless sorrow. He had
taken no food. Not one drop of watei
had cooled the fever of his parched lips.
Sleep had not visited his eyes for six
and-thirty hours. He was faint witß
hunger; weary with watching, and
with the excess of his emotions. He
tasted of his food; he drank with avid
ity of the water, and, reeling like 2
drunken man in his straw, cast himseli
upon it to brood again over the appal
ling image that had fastened itseli
upon his almost frenzied thoughts. !
11.
He slept But his slumbers were not !
tranquil. He resisted, as lons' as he j
could, their approach; and when, at
lust enfeebled nature yielded to their j
influence, ho found no oblivion from
his cares. Terrible dreams haunted j
him —ghastly visions harrowed up hia ,
imagination—he shouted and screamed. [
as if he already felt the dungeon's pon
derous roof descending on him —he
breathed hard aud thick, as though
writhing between its iron walls, j
Then would he spring ud —stare
wi.:iy asxmt him—treteh forth
his han Is. to be sure that he
I yet had space enough to live—and,
mutt Ting some incoherent words, sink
, down again to pass through the same
fierce vicissitudes of delirious sleep
The morning of the fourth day
dawned upon Yivenzio. But it was
i high noon before his rnicd shook off it?
stupor, or he awoke to a full conscious
of his situation And what a fixed
energy of despair sat upon his pale
features as he cast his eyes upward
, and gazed upon the THI:F.E windows
that now alone remained! The three.'
, —there were no more —and they seemed
to number his allotted days Slowly
and calmly he next surveyed the top
and sides, and comprehended all the
meaning of the diminished height of
the former, a-- well as of the gradual
approximation of the latter. The con- '
tracted dimensions of his mysterious
prison were now too gross and paipablt
to be the juggle of his heated imagina
tion. Mill lost in wonder at the means,
Yivenzio could put no cheat upon his
reason, as to the end. By what horri
ble ingenuity it was contrived, that
walis and roof and windows should
thus silently and imperceptibly, with- ,
out noise, and without motion almost,
fold, as it were, within each other, he i
knew not He only knew they did so: j
and he vainly strove to persuade him- j
self it was the intention of the con- \
triver to rack the miserable wretch,
; who might be immured there, with an
ticipation, merely, of a fate, from
which, in the very crisis of his agony,
he was to be reprieved.
Gla.i . would he have clung even to
this possibility, if his heart would have i
let him; but he felt a dreadful assurance
of its fallacy. And what matchless in
humanity it was to doom the sufferer
to such lingering torments —to lead him
day by day to so appalling a death,
unsupported by the consolations of re
ligion, unvisited by any human being,
| abandoned to himself, deserted of all,
and denied even the sad privilege of
knowing that his cruel destiny would
awaken pity! Alone he was to perish!—
alone he was to wait a slow-coming
torture, whose most exquisite pangs
would be inflicted by that very solitude
and that tardy coming!
"It is not death I fear,'" he exclaimed,
"but the death I must prepare for!
Methinks, too, I could meet even that
—all horrible and revolting as it is—if
it might overtake me now. But where
shall I find fortitude to tarry till it
comes? How can I outlive the three
long days and nights I have to live?
There 1.-5 no power within me to bid the
hideous spectre hence—none to make it
familiar to mv thoughts, or myself pa
tient of its errand. My thoughts,
rather, will flee from me, and 1 grow
mad in looking at it. Oh! for a deep
sleep to fall upon me! That so, in
death's likeness, I might embrace
death itself, and drink no more of the
cup that is presented to me than my
fainting spirit has already tasted!"
In the midst of these lamentations,
Yivenzio noticed that his accustomed
meal, with the pitcher of water, had
been conveyed, ns before, into his dun
geon. But this circumstance no longer
exciteel his surprise. His mind was
overwhelmed by others of a far greater
magnitude. It suggested, however, a
feeble hope of deliverance: and there is
no hope so feeble as not to yield some
support to a heart bending under
despair. He resolved to watch, during
the ensuing night, for the signs he had
before observed; and should he again
feel the gentle tremulous motion of the
floor, or the current of air, to seize that
moment for giving audible expression
to his misery. Some person must be
near him. and within reach of his
voice, at tho instant when his food was
supplied; some one, perhaps, suscepti
ble of pity. Or, if not, to told even
that his apprehensions were just, and
time, lilh fate was to be what he fore
boded, would be preferable to a sus
pense which hung upon the possibility
of his worst fears being visionary.
The niglit came: and as the hour ap
proached when Yivenzio imagined he
might expect the signs, he ste>od fixed
and silent as a statue. He feared to
breathe, almost, lest he might lose any
sound which would warn him of their
<x>ming. While thus listening, with
every faculty of mind and body strained
to an agony of attention, it occurred to
him he should be more sensible of the
motion, probably, if he stretched him
self along tho iron floor. He accord
ingly laid himself softly down, and had
not been long in that position when—
yes —he was certain of it—the floor
moved under him! He sprang up, and.
in a voice nearly suffocated with emo
tion, called aloud He paused—the
motion ceased —he felt no stream of
air—all was hushed—no voice answered
to his—he burst into tears, and as he
sank to the ground, in renewed
anguish, exclaimed; "O my God! my
God! You alone have power to save me
; now. or strengthen me for the trial you
permit."
Another morning dawned upon the
wretched captive, and the fatal index of
his doom met his eyes. Two
windows! —and TWO days—and all
would be over! Fresh food —fresh
water! The mysterious visit had been
paid, though he had implored it in vain.
But how awfully was his prayer
answered in what he now saw! The
roof of the dungeon was within a foot
of his head. The two ends were sc
near, that in six paces he trod the space
between them Yivenzio shuddered as
he gazed, aud as his steps traversed the
narrowed area. But hi* feelings no
j longer vented themselves in frantic
j waitings. With folded arms, and
; clenched teeth, with eyes that were
bloodshot from watching, and fixed
with a vacant glare upon the ground,
with a hard quick breathing, and a
hurried walk, he strode backward and
forward in silent •musing for several
hours. What mind shall conceive, what
tongue utter, or what pen describe the
dark and terrible character of his
thoughts? Like the fato that moulded
! them, they had no similitude in the
wide range of this world's agony foi
man. Suddenly he stopped, and his
eyes were riveted upon that part of the
wall which was over his bed. Wordi
are inscribed there! A human language,
traced by a human hand! He rushes
toward them; but his blood freezes aa
he reads:
"I, Ludovico Sforza, tempted by the
gold of the prince of Tolfi, spent three
years in contriving and executing this
accursed triumph of my art When
it was completed, the perfidious Tolfi,
more devil than man, who conducted
me hither one morning, to be witness,
as he jjjid, of its perfection, doomed me
to be the first victim of my own per
nicious skill; lest as he declared, I
should divulge the secret, or repeat the
effort of my ingenuity. May God par
don him, as I hope he will me, that
ministered to his unhallowed purpose. 1
Miserable wretch, whoe'er thou art
that readest these lines fall on thy
knees, and invoke, as I have elone. His 1
sustaining mercy who alone can nerve
thee to meet the vengeance of Tolfi— 1
armed with this tremendous engine,
which, in a few hours, must crush you,
as it will the needy wretch who made it"
A deep groan burst from Yivenzio.
He stood, like one transfixed, with di- 1
i lated eyes, expanded nostrils, and quiv
-1 ering lips, gazing at this fatal inscrip
tion. It was as if a voice from the '
sepulchre had sounded in his ears,
"Prepare!" Hope forsook him. There
was his sentence, recorded in those dis
mal words. Unknowing what it is he |
does, he fumbles in his garment for (
some weapon of self-destruction. He
clenches his throat in his convulsive ]
gripe, as though he would strangle (
j himself at once. He stares upon the ,
' walls, anil his warring soirit demands.
v ***** '
"Will they ; i t anticipate th.-;r office if
I dash my h«?ad against thoai.'' An
hysterical laugh choke* him a* lie ex
claims Why should I? Fie was but a
man who died tirkt in their fierce
embrace: and 1 shouid be less than man
not to b<* abie to do a* much!"
The evening sun was descending, and
Vivenzio beheld its gulden beams
Btreaminj through one of the windows.
\\ hat a thrill of joy shot through his
soul at tho sight! It was a precious
link, that united him. for the moment,
with the world beyond. There was
ecstasy in the thought. As he gazed,
long anil earnestly, it seemed as if the
windows had lowered sufficiently for
him to reach them. With one bound
he was beneath thrin —with one wild
spring he clung to the bars. Whether
it was so contrived, purposely to madden
with delight the wretch who looked, he
knew not: but, at the extremity
of a long vista cut through the
solid rocks. the ocean. the sky,
the setting sun, olive groves,
shady walks, and, in the farthest dis
tance, delicious glimpses of magnificent
Sicily, burst upon his sight How ex
. quisite was the cool breeze as it swept
across his cheek, loaded with fragrance!
1 He inhaled it as though it were the
breath of continued life. How he gazed,
' panted, and still clung to his hold!
sometimes hanging by one hand, some
times by the other, and then grasping
the bars with both, as loath to quit the
, smiling paradise outstretched before
him; till exhausted, and his hands
swollen :ind benumbed, he dropped
helpless liown, and lay stunned for a
; considerable time bv the fall.
When he recovered, tho glorious vision
had vanished. He was in darkness He
, doubted whether it was not a dream
1 that hail passed before his sleeping
fancy; but gradually his scattered
thoughts returned, and with them came
1 remembrance. Yes! he had looked once
again upon the gorgeous splendor of
■ nature! Once again his eyes had trem- .
bled l>eneath their veiled lids, at the
sun's radiance, and sought repose indhe
| soft verdure of the olive tree, or the
i geutle swell of undulating waves.
, Oh, that he were a mariner exposed
! upon those waves to the worst fury of
j storm and tempest; or a very wretell,
loathsome with disease, plague
stricken, and his body one leprous con
tagion from crown to sole, hunted
forth to gasp out the remnant of infec
tious life beneath those verdant trees,
fo he might shun the destiny upon
whose edge he tottered!
Vain thoughts like these would steal
over his mind from time to time, in
spite of himself; but they scarcely
moved it from that stupor into which
it had sunk, and which kept him, dur
ing the whole night, like one who had
been drugged with opium.
In this pitiable condition, the sixth
and last morning dawned upon Viven
zio, if dawn it might be called—the
dim, obscurt light which faintly strug
gled through tho osr. soi.itaby window
of his dungeon. He could hardly b«
said to notice the melancholy token.
And yet he did notice it; for as he
raised his eyes and saw the portentous
sign, there was a slight convulsive dis
tortion of his countenance. But what
did attract his notice, and at th« tigh
of which his agitation was exoessive,
was the change his iron bed had under
gone. It was a bed no longer. Itstood
before him. the visible semblance of a
funeral couch or bier! When he beheld
tliis, he started from the ground; and,
in raising himself, suddenly struck his
head against the roof, which was now
so low that he could no longer stand
upright "God's will be done!' was all
he said, as he crouched his body, and
placed his hand upon the bier; for such
it was. The iron bedstead had been so
contrived, by the mechanical art of
l.wlovico Sforza, that, as the advanc
ing walls came in contact with its head
and feet, a pre»ure was produced upon
concealed springs, which, when made
to play, set in motion a very simple
though ingeniously contrived machin
ery, that effected the transforma
tion.
Vivenzio seated himself on his bier.
Then he knelt and prayed fervently;
and sometimes tears would gush from
him. The air seemed thick, and he
breathed with difficulty; or it might be
that he fancied it was so, from the nar
row limits of his dungeon, which were
now so diminished that he could neither
stand up nor lie down at his full
length But his wasted spirits and op
pressed mind no longer struggled
within him. He was past hope, and
fear shook him no more Happy if
thus revenge had struck its fatal blow;
for he would have fallen beneath it al
most unconscious of a pang. But such
a lethargy of the soul, after suoh an
excitement of its passions, had entered
ir.totlie diabolical calculationsof Tolfl;
and the artificer of his designs had im
agined a counteracting device.
The tolling of an enormous bell struck
upon the ears of Vivenzio! He
started. It beat but once. The sound
was so close and stunning that it
seemed to shatter his very brain, while
it echoed through the rocky passages
like reverberating peals of thunder.
This was followed by a sudden crash
of the roof and walls, as if they were
about to fall upon and close around
him at once. Vivenzio screamed, and
instinctively spread forth his arms, as
though he had a giant's strength to
hold them back. They had moved
nearer to him, and were now motion
less. Vivenzio looked up, and saw the
roof almost touching his head, even as
he sat cowering beneath it; and he felt
that a farther contraction of but a few
inches only must commence the fright
ful operation. Roused as he had been,
he now gasped for breath. His body
Hhook violently—he was bent nearly
double. His hands rested upon either
wall, and his feet were drawn under
him to avoid the pressure in front
Thus he remained for an hour, when
that deafening bell beat again, and
again there came the crash of horrid
death. But the concussion was now so
great that it struck Vivenzio down. As
he lay gathered up in lessened bulk,
the bell beat loud and frequent—crash
succeeded crash —and on, and on, and
on came the mysterious engine of
death, till Vivenzio's smothered groans
were heard no more! He was horribly
crushed by the ponderous roof and
collapsing sides—and the flattened bier
was his Ibon Shbocd!
Takluc Two Chaacn.
Clara—Oh, 1 wouldn't for the world
kiss a man unless I were ongaged to
him.
Priscilla—Why, I saw you kisa Jack
Manley last night and Tom Wlnthrop
to-night.
Clara—Truly; but I'm engaged to
them. —Once a Week.
Docile.
Jess —I told you Ethel would wind
George around her finger after they
werr married.
Bess —What makes you think she
does?
Jess —She told me he had "such a
lovely disposition."—Truth.
Will the Widow Capture Him?
Miss Madison Square—l heard Mrs.
Fisher say she wouldn't mind marrying
that young man of yours.
Miss Sharpgirl—l'll never give her
the chance. The man a widow would
marry is pretty sure to make a good
husband. —Texas Sittings.
Bad for Her Health.
Mrs. Mcßride (as her husband comes
in at one a. m.) —Where have you been ■
so late? I'm sc tired waiting up for yon!
Mcßride—You should have gone to
bed two hours ago, my dear. Doctors
say women need two hours more sleep
than men. —Puck. ' |
I A HOTEL. INCIDENT.
The Traveler Who Was Mistaken for a
l ead Van.
' "The most singular thing that ever
happened to me at a hotel," said the
1 traveling member of the club, accord
ing to the Detroit Free l'ress, "was
this; I was stopjuug over night at a
large hotel in Chicago, and retiring
late I left word to be called in the
morning. 1 intended getting up in time
' for a late breakfast.
"T was awakened by a knocking at
the door of the room next to mine,
mysterious whisperings and orders
given in a suppressed voice. I lay
still, wondering what time it was, and
whether I should get up or not, when
there came a loud racket against my
door, and a .sound of the transom mov
ing-. I sat up—my bed being close by
the door—in time to see a small boy
backing in over the transom. Hanging
full length, ho held by his hands and
then dropped to the floor. As he gained
his feet he turned toward the bed, and,
seeing me sitting up and looking at
him. he gave a yell that made my blood
thrill.
" 'Open the door,' commanded a man's
\ oice on the outside.
" 'He's a-l-i-v-e,' yelled the boy,
sprawling on the floor in abject ter
ror.
"I thought everybody was crazy as I
heard the noise outside, and, unlock
ing my door, I asked what was the mat
ter. The hall was full of chamber
maids, bell boys and porters, all of
whom took to their heels as soon as
thev saw me, and ran as if possessed
with demons.
"The landlord and one of tho clerks
came up to explain matters, which they
did quite smilingly. It was a slight
j mistake, that was all; they bad mis
j taken my room for the one next door,
| where a man had killed himself the
previous night. They had looked in at
his transom, and seen that he was dead,
but when the boy came up with a step
ladder to climb in and unlock the door
they had helped him into my room by
mistake. That was all."
HE LIKED FISH.
Sam Wanted a Whale and Nothing
Short of It-
A party of young men who were on
a fishing excursion on the Ohio river
some years ago were joined by an ec
centric man, skilled as a fisherman,
known in that region as "Barefooted
Sam." He was a good cook, and made
himself useful in so many ways that
his presence, though uninvited, was
tolerated by the amateur sportsmen.
Oue morning two members of the
party returned to camp with their ap
petites well sharpened for breakfast,
and were greeted enthusiastically by a
third man, who said: "You just come
along and see the finest baked perch
you ever laid eyes on."
They hurried to the table, but saw
only a rick of bones, from which every
fiber of meat had been taken. Sam was
nowhere to be seen. When he returned
no comments were made upon the cir
cumstance; but in the afternoon, when
the company were lounging on the
bank, Sam drawled out:
"I'd like to have all the fish I could
eat, jest onst I aint had a mess sence
Pete Follet ketched that big catfish,
three years back."
"Sam," remarked one of the group
dryly, "I thought you had quite a fair
mess this morning. That perch weighed
about ten pounds, I've been informed.'
"Oh, yes," replied Sam, with no sign
of embarrassment on his placid cour.
tenance, "I ate that; but what I mean
is a reel, reg'lar mess!"
The company pondered on this re
markable statement in absolute silence
for some moments, until at last the man
who had caught the perch ejaculated:
"Well, I snum!" and nothing more w«i>
said.
COMPETITION AVOIDED.
Shop* in France tiot Allowed to Crowd
Kach Other.
In France two shops selling the same
thing are not allowed to exist within a
certain area. In provisions this absence
of competition materially increases the
price, but, says a woman who has
large experience in housekeeping in
France, your taxes are less, and you
have in return clean streets, good gas,
constant water supply and perfect
sewerage. In addition, by virtue of
state supervision, you never reoeive
short weight or inferior goods. There
is no quantity so small that the grocer
will not seU it And in doing thlsan<!
in delivering it he is as scrupulously
polite and careful as in buying larger
amounts. The butcher is the cook's
friend and will trim the meat and take
out the bones with loving care. Meat
is dear. Good beefsteak costs from
thirty-seven cents to fifty cents a
pound. Fish is very expensive, but
poultry is reasonable and good and
comparatively cheap. A good deal of
cooking In small households is done
with gas, and gas stoves are loaned by
the gas companies for this purpose.
Sugar, matches and all imported arti
cles are dear, owing to the high tariff.
The lowest price for servants is ten
dollars a month. Charwomen ask six
cents by the hour. Englishwomen say
that life on the continent is much
more agreeable for Americans than
for themselves, owing to the fact that
in each consular town the consul and
his family make a nucleus for a colony,
which soon gathers about them.
Glass Eyee Worn Secretly.
A New York optician, was relating
to a party of friends the other day some
of the peculiar features of his trade.
"You would be surprised," he said, "at
the large number of locomotive en
gineers and firemen who have glass
eyeg. Of course, an engineer could npt
hold a place on a railroad an hour if
the fact that he had a glass eye
was known to his superior officers.
Consequently men in that line of busi
ness exercise the utmost secrecy with
regard to their infirmity. When they
come into my store to buy a new
glass eye or have some flaw in their old
one attended to they beg the privilege
of transacting their business in my
private office, and they usually slip in
and out of the store when no other
customer is around."
He Wanted to Be Forgotten.
Dudely Canesucker Your noble
nncle will probably remember you
when making his will.
"Confound It! That's what I'm afraid
of. If he remembers me it's all up
with me," replied Teddy Vanderohump.
—Texas Siftings.
Making Time Fly.
She—ls your flabcee really going
away for three months? Dear me,
won't it be an eternity?
He—Tho time will pass quickly
enough. I just gave a ninety day note
for the ring.—Brooklyn Life.
Her Trouble Shared.
"Alas," sighed the heiress, "money
is the root of all evil."
"Miss Jingleton," he said, with great
feeling, "if you ever need one to share
your trouble I hope that you will not
hesitate to send for me."—Chicago
News. _____
A Great Present.
Uncle Neb—What are you going to
give your little sister for a birthday
present?
Oliver—l'm going to ask papa to get
her a football, and I'll show her how
to play.—Harper's Young People.
They Went After Him.
"You played Hamlet last night. Did
the audience call you out?"
"No, they were too impatient for
that They rushed behind the soenes
to find me, but I got away."—N. Y.
I Presi
NO. 29