VOLXXXI DON'T Want A Wheel? Just as good time now, as any, to think of buying, to compare pri ces and merits. We pin our best faith to the CLE\ ELAND and the PHOENIX. A wheel should be Running, Looking V x2/J p ui i y ■ x Guaranteed* Ladies Phoenix. We ti\em r\ow ar\d will have ir\ tl\e Spring. J. E. FORSYTH E. FO-W FOR NOVEMBER! In order to greet this winter opening month in a manner befit ting its importance to the Dry Goods trade, we propose to make some prices that will warm the very cockles of the popular heart. We are better enabled to do this because just now m the great textile markets of the world, concessions a?e the order of the day. Nobody is in better condition to take advantage of these than oui selves, and what we get — We Divide With Vou. 250—3C-iuch Twilled Blue Cloth.. Ye'JuiarVrice SO 350-45-u>cn All-Wool Blue Üb.th regular price, au 50c— 46-incb «• Blu« Serge „ &v 50c—48 inch " Novelty •----• << SI.OO 75c 54-inch " Noveltj Cloth ~ j o() 75.. —46-incb All-Silk Henriettas „ j'.,- $1 00—34-tr.oh Atl-*Vot»l Covert Cl«th... 50 t .—Fancy Trimminft#. Silkn, all colors (| 600 per pair. Silver Grey Blankets - „ *3 50— All- Wool Whi>e Blankets „ .' } 75c—La.iies'AH Wool Skirt Patters 75( . 50c —per suit, Men's Natural Wool SaiU ~ Ladies' Fleeced Lined Vests „ f { \' r 25q » " ' ' ----- - •••• *••• * tf re 50c " Nitural Wool Ribbed Vests... t '^ 4c —Good Uob'ntcbed Muflin ~ C, sc " " <1 7,. sc—Be »t American Blu« Prints ~ 7i 5c —Bert Domestic Ginghams - Space forbids our mentioning the low prices that prevail in our Millinery and Wrap departments. Our Wrap department is the lar gest and best lighted in Butler. We are sole agents for the celebrat ed Rothchild Wraps, the most perfect fitting Wraps ever shown 1 • Butler county. Mrs. Jennie E. Zimmerman SUCCESSOR TO RITTER RALSION GREAT SLAUGHTER ME OF OVERCOATS, - SUITS, Underwear, Shirts, Hats, Caps, Hosiery, Ties, Gloves, Mittens, Cardigan Jackets, S. viators, Traiks, Valise*, Telescopes, Watches, Chains, Charms, Rings, Pins, Suspenders, Handkerchiefs, Brushes, Purses, etc. This NO CLEARANCE SALE Of Summer Goods, but our regular stock of i'ALL AND WINTER GOODS. We sho.v you the lar gest stock in Butler to select from and everything goes. Don't miss this -#Grff2ncl + Opportunity. l^ We are the pioneers of LOW PRICES. We never were, never can and never will be UNDERSOLD. Bear this in mind, and don't make your purchases un til you see us. We feel satisfied we can do you good. D. A. HbZCR,' 121 N. Mairj. St., Duffy's Block, Butler, Pa. Good LooKs Count. When vou turn out for a drive you want your carriage to look as well as your neighbors. You'll have no fear on that score if you have a Fredonia Buggy. Fredonia Vehicles are the best on the market in every way. If you'll aamine th«m at your dealers you'll agree with this statement. Made by FREDONIA MFG- CO., Youngstown, Ohio. THE BUTLER CITIZEN. Sleepless NJghls Make you weak i -- .ry r.nf: forvorlc indispose I to ih* >' s-how thai your nerve stri n . i i it" 1 "* a "'l that 52\ nr nervous system u. buillinjj up. alic HOOd'S ' S ' arsrt * parilla true remedy i« \ Hood's --; i' ■ I' ft It purifip- il! ' I • OV strengthen Hun. create?an aj ■ »i»! refresh ing sleep. < ' I o » anions/ lloodj. Hood's F:. . towi -■ # .J ~7—?■' fSSEtlUliluim SKiSta; =' I !" MAN» r. . REMiUMS G.ViM FREE TO OP LSi?** COFFSB It is tmiiecrssary to bore vou with the advertisement of our largest stork, best facilities, biowst bu sinews ,etc. You know we have that. The important an nouncement is, We will Positively save you Moc.y on m Fail Clotfcts. Our stock tables are respki sclent with the newest patterns. See them. AL \XI), TAILOR. W • • ) -1- ® A business t!;a? keeps grow ing through a season or <ic presbion, as .'lO cuuatiy has experienced, is an evi dence that people realize they save money by trading nil;) us. We know, and always have knov t, da_- s of large profits a; past. Without question we are gi'.'ing m >re for the ir- than last yeat. Our stock r. ■ coer to seie< : from than kt: ' y<-; ; ,. '"ALL A'" \/ S..E US. Colbert & 17ase. 7k EA < •: • ! ix (Jitiiintiii' ami Geiit'-s l"'urui;siiiuo>> FOP FALL Suits «old by ot - 00 our pric- 5 4 ■'>■) Suits bold by •■•r fS.OO o«u prin ?r, (.10 Suit.« Id by o ! flOOo »< prits tio. Wbi ■.e Mtiiuo L' a- 50* oi 3b Giey M< rico U sa''5 a'' 1 3.>- We will h vi \■ (i *25 • i • ui o / grad-b .•! «■(•■. ■).!!/ Oull and e.Tairo . : • .d • uri<*-s wbelli \ u ; >. to llU' i ■ THE MCfi!' i ufuht 120 •! A N aI. SEASONAL '■ BARGAINS! j >ur |ni.i • ' h. r iiu. I S«. >.... v v- if • j».i: - c.vt i h »'i »-r ; i.4 . I: la- c VI! »« « i \ • IMe i tiikirer? Vi i;.c CiiliOrrUN 7.Y* >'• r«»t *:i i < #l. AM <• ». h .sniff . .v Ltntie* Fit- c« Lii V - .... ..2'» Ifi" oO- Mr, lU" \ > ...... Lad 10-#1 Alt wiM'i Y i.v 8»i. Ltttller* $1 25 Aij v i • . \ -f 5 ....... y : Ci»uiitluaU: i. •- 'v il.* ."••• t&lid Eqursiiiau i •*« h» p . FINE MILLINERY Oiiii brECIMiY M. F. & M MA.,K.ft, 113 to 117 ts. Mui: bt , - I* Great Discsv.r; t " ... „ A disfigurirg i;, . i- •. •»1 .. iT- i tb- kuil*- neiJ »'it Oar rfp olti I - ~ il put- .• . ... *> I l.iiu itte uu'.u i ui. e L"i . , vi>. No. 320 Lif btref... SITE Wjk '* :2i . , ,ti. ■4t' iM .; »r.' fr -V. . . 2 - * , ,¥ »- •i l r TLKR. PiV., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 20. 1894. V "• ' "" ZUx',rAa//. > ■ TOPYBIGHT 1894. BY THE AUTHOR AURIGHTS RESERVEO CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION. , CRAIG, in tk ~*W the territory of f J ; New Mexico, -^Mr x stands upon a hiffh mesa, or /—-) land, overlook g."j . Cv S in? the historic valley of the Rio Gran de. The view from "• * 5.." '\: the fort is '4-/ wildly pictur —-WA\ esque. Thelon;? yjfl I _ sdrAm. stretch of river, A,, s i C; grass - carpeted V valley do 11 ed h." with groves of * ) y ' Cottonwood \VV vA I trees, the low adobe houses of the Mexican ranch eros, the great black bowlders and monuments of lava rock across the stream, set in beds of mesquite bushes and cactus, far away to the eastward the bold towering 1 peaks of the San Andreas and Oscura ranges, to the southward the Fra Cristobel and to the westward the Magdalena and the San Mateo ranges of mountains, all con tribute to a picture so fascinating in its rugged grandeur and beauty that it would seem as mockery for the most gifted artist to presume to transfer its details to canvas. All of the buildings of this remote border garrison were built of adobes, or sun-dried bricks of Mexican manu facture, officers' quarters, barracks for the enlisted men, storehouses, stables, etc., being but one story in height. Around the post ran a line of earth works thrown up during the civil war when Indian and confederate foe alike coveted its possession. The buildings formed a hollow square around a level parade ground some twenty acres in extent, and in the center during the occupancy of the fort stood a tall flag staff from the top of which, every day in the year from sunrise to sunset gun, the stars and stripes floated proudly in the semi-tropical breezes. At the time of which I write the fort was garrisoned by four troops of cav alry, two companies of infantry and a battery of light artillery. The com manding officer. Col. Elmore Sanford, was a dignified, gruff old veteran who had grown gray in the service of his country, a strict disciplinarian who ex acted with unflinching severity the performance of every duty from of ficers and men alike with promptness and precision. Every infraction of mil itary rules met with swift punishment, whether the offender wore the gold laced uniform of the officer or the plain garb of the private soldier. He pos sessed a volcanic temper, at times, when angered, storming and swearing like a madman, then as quickly subsid ing into his usual state of icy dignity. Those most familiar with his moods inet these fitful outbursts of passion with no thought of resentment, for FORT CRAIG. they knew the old man never meant the half he said, and that beneath his forbidding exterior rested a soul that was really warm and generous. The light of the old commander's military home was his daughter Alice, his only- child, who came as a ray of sunshine into his life but a week be fore the death of his beloved wife. At the time our story opens Alice was a lovely, sunny-faced little fairy of eighteen, full of life and spirit, as beautifui in her blonde loveliness as the lily bursting from its bud. She was devotedly attached to her stern old father, who, in her society, laid aside his air of military dignity and al lowed the reflection of his really kind heart to play in gcn'al smiles over his soldierly face. lie idolized the lovely girl, the last priceless gift from his dy ing wife, and to contribute to her hap piness and enjoyment seemed to be the one leading aim of his life. The best instructors which money could secure had been brought from the far-away east to look after her instruction, and when she reached her eighteenth year her education in all necessary branches was complete, and she possessed as fine accomplishments as she could have se cured in any academy in the land. Born in a border military fort and reared in the garrisons of the far west, she became imbued with the spirit of adventure in cident to frontier life, and was never so happy as when dashing over the cac tus studded plain or wooded river bot tom on her strong-limbed pony or ex ploring' the gulches and canyons cleft in the breasts of the adjacent moun tains. The picture of this young border princess was indelibly stamped upon the hearts of several of the younger officers of the garrison, yet none of them were suitors for her hand. They knew how her father idolized her and held her as a precious jewel set in his crown of life for liiin alone, and each one felt that it would bo almost sacri lege to attempt to pluck the gem from its parent setting aud transfer it to an other. She had, seemingly, no espe cial favorite among the young men of the post. The same sweet smile which would set the heart of a young officer throbbing with delight would illumine her pretty features while bending over the cot of a sick soldier in the hospital, or while thanking the humblest pri vate who had lone her a favor. She treated all oli' e. and came to be looked u;> ;i as a ire;: .:r. which all might ad mire b: 1 1 noua need ever hope to pos ee-? > a devote ! child whose father so fill- 1 every nook of her pure heart that there was no room there for another. One lovely morning in the month of September, 180'3, while returning from a ;allop down the valley of the Eio Grar .. . MLis Sanford rode up a gulch onto the m ia about a mile below the fort. As .he came out upon the higher fTov.- .l she observed a young soldier : ittii - upon a rock near the trail busily t paired in sketching. She was her self a clever artist and passionately fond <'f drawing from nature, and her interest in tliq soldier was at once EroiUigti. bad •nvtfop by proach, so deeply interested was he in his work, and she reined in her pony a few yards distant from where he sat to study him. There was a pleased ex pression on ber face when she noted that he was a handsome young man with a frank, houest face, neat and tidy in dress, and wearing an air of In- AI.ICE, THE COLONEL'S DAUGHTER. telleetual refinement which seemed sadly out of place in one whose lot was cast am< >ng the rough soldiers of the ranks. It must l>e remembered that I write of the days just following the close of our great civil war, when the ranks of the regular army on the frontier were made up of rough, illiter ate men largely fished from the slums of the eastern cities, many of them having fled to the west and buried themselves in the army under assumed names to escape the consequences of crime. Alice Sanford had never dreamed the barracks of the private soldiers sheltered a man of artistic tastes, and the spectacle presented of a soldier wielding the pencil of the artist was to her a revelation. The soldier becoming aware of her presence glanced up from his work, and, noting that it was the daughter of the commanding officer who had ap proached him, quickly arose to his feet, removed his cap and silently waited for her to address him should she de sire to do so. "I am sorry I disturbed you," she said. "Will you permit me to look at the sketch you are making?" "It is as yet far from complete," ho quietly responded, "and I fear you may not be able to form an intelligent idea of what its appearance will be when the details are filled in. I began it but an hour ago." He handed her the picture, and she sat for some moments closely studying it, occasionally casting her eyes across the intervening desert to the Fra Cris tobel range. "You have chosen a beautiful study," she finally said. "In my eyes the Fra Cristobel is the most attractive of all the ranges which surround us." "I experience great pleasure in sketching it," he replied. ' 'This will be my third sketch of the range, and I seem to never tire of tracing its bold outlines and copying its rugged details of rock and pine." Returning the picture, with a simple "thank you," she rode home ward. She allowed her pony to walk slowly along the trail and did not even chide him for stopping occasionally to snatch a mouthful of grass as he loitered along, so busy were her thoughts with the humble private soldier whom she had just left. She had seen in the yet crude sketch the work of a master hand, and she wondered why it was that one so gifted should be wearing the uniform and performing the duties of a soldier. □ Ilis manner was that of the polished gentleman, his speech re fined and pleasing, and his general de meanor was widely different from that of any of the other soldiers with whom she had been brought in contact. What could a man of his attainments be do ing in the ranks of the army? The question flashed through her brain, but no reply followed in its wake. A frown swept over her face, but as quickly vanished at a rebuking thought. "O, uo, not crime," she mused. "Those clear eyes of his mirrored a clear soul. He must not be classed with those who lurk in the shadow of enlistment to escape the searching eye of justice. There is a romance strewn along his trail of life. There must be. Perhaps it was an affair of the heart. Yes, that must be the cor rect solution of the queer problem. Some cruel fair one in the far-away east, of which I have read but never seen, has crushed his happiness and he fled to the army ranlis hoping to meet death at the hands of an Indian foe man. How could a girl be so cruel to so handsome a man. and one so intelli gent and refined?" Thus she mused until she reached her home. Throwing the rein to the orderly in waiting she softly entered her father's sitting-room and awoke him from the half sleep into which he had fallen in his easy chair by a feath cry kiss on the cheek. "Well, Sunshine, did you enjoy youi ride?" he asked, drawing her to a sea*, on his knee and tui re forcibly return ing her kiss. "O, very much, papa. I rede clear down to the Tafoya ranch six miles be low, and on my way back I found a curiosity." "You are eternally picking up curios. What was it this time? A moss agate, a new species of cactus, a rare flower that you never happened to come onto before, or a magnificently large horned toad?" "O, no. papa, none of those. I could never place this one with my collection. It is not of the geological, floral nor reptile species, papa; but a living, mov ing, breathing—human being." "A Mexican freak, eh? And what was it like?" "No, nor was it a Mexican. You are a j horribly poor guesser, papa. It was a soldier, a privute soldier of the post. 1 came upon him while he was sketching the Fra Cristobel range, and when 1 asked if I might look at his sketch I really expected to see nothing but awk ward, ill-shaped work. You can im agine my surprise when I observed that he was an artist of no ordinary skill. Oh! there must be such a ro mance connected with his life. Have you ever discovered men of refined tastes in the ranks, papa, driven there by romantic causes?" "Yes, the romance of crime. The service and an assumed name have served as a barrier between many a criminal and the outraged laws. Who is this fellow?" "O. I am sure this man is not a crimi nal. papa. You would share that be lief with me were you to see him. I spoke but a few words with him, and did not ask his name. He wore the cavalry uniform." "Well, Sunshiof, it is not at all im probably that if bis past were'' laid before you, you would find it a dark one. You must not allow your romantic little brain to picture him a prince in disjfuise. Come, dinner is waiting, and I am as hungry as a troop er after a hard day's scout. Attention, squad! Right face! Forward, march!" Gayly trilling' the air of "The Girl I Left Behind Me" she led the way with military step to the dining-room, the old colonel marching after her with the precision of other days. CHAPTER n. The soldier artist resumed his seat as Alice rode away, and sat and watched her until a bend in the trail hid her from his eyes. He had often seen the young girl at a distance and had ad mired her graceful fljrure and light, springy step, but had never before had an opportunity to closely observe her face. As she sat on her pony bowed over his sketch he had studied her features, and he thought he had never seen so beautiful a girl. Her sunny disposition flashed softly from her laughing bine eyes, and the lingering echoes of her low. sweet voice re sounded in his ears in pleasing melody long after she had gone. There was a marked stir in the so cial circles of the garrison when an official communication from the war TTTE SOLDIER AiUTST UESI MKI) HIS SEAT. department to the commanding officer advised him that Mr. Alfred Talbott Vandever, a recent graduate from West Point, had been commissioned a second lieutenant and assigned to 15 troop. Sixth cavalry, then stationed at Fort Craig. Lieut. Vandever was coming under orders to report to Col. Sanford for duty. At a border military post the officers and their families live in a little world of their own. The social circle at one of these remote garrisons may best be described as a military family, the members of which are drawn into close relationship by isolation from the great busy world to the eastward Within the limits of this circle the strongest ties of friendship are formed, and the frequent social parties which serve as oases to break the monotony in the desert of garrison life seem more as family gatherings Ihun fashionable affairs. A brotherly and sisterly feel ing exists among the officers and ladies whose lot is cast so far away from the borders of civilization, and when by that- immovable decree, a military order, an officer is transferred to a dis tant post the departure of himself and family, if he be married, creates a break in the family circle which is as sincerely mourned as would be the de parture for a far distant point of a member of a home circle in private life. The remaining members of a military family suffer a sense of bereavement which can scarcely be conceived by those not familiar with garrison life, and the departure of a member is as sincerely mourned as if bound to those to whom he bids an indefinite farewell by ties of blood. A prospective addition to the milita ry family is always a matter of much comment. When the accession is to be that of an officer of more or less service In the field, his coming is looked forward to with great pleasure, for in almost, if not quite, every in stance he will be known to some of the officers at the post. In some of the labyrinthine movements of the great army machine they have been thrown together at different posts, then sepa rated by the official order and sent, unmurmuring, to meet the exigencies of the service at widely separated points. When it is announced at a post that Capt. and Mrs. Sinclair are to be stationed there, those who have never met the expected arrivals are enlightened as to their personal appearance, traits of character and so cial attainments by those who have been with them at other posts, and the officer and his lady are received with as warm recognition by those who have never before seen them as by their friends of old. Rut it is different when the an nouncement is made that a newly cre ated officer will soon knock for admis sion into the garrison family. He will come as a stranger to all. Those offi cers who themselves in turn stepped from the door of the academy at West l'oint into the field of active service as the expected newcomer is about to do, are well aware of the mild form of torture which awaits them. They know that Mr. Graduate will burst upon their vision clad in natty attire which the purifying breeze:, have not yet hail time to purge of the odor of the tailor shop. He will not have been in the garrison a day ere his trunks will have been emptied of their con tents, and the love trophies they con tain exhibited to the seemingly patient group who sit meekly listening to the pretty young raan as he boasts of his conquests in the rosy field of love. They will smile serenely as his velvety tongue purls on, and the time-dimmed canvas of their own memory bright ens and presents for their edification the day when they, too, came gliding into the service arena in the same state of innocent insanity. They will not tell him so in words, but will mentally say to him: "A sad case, a very sad case, my dear boy, but you will get over it. Just a little campaigning, a little of the hard ship incident to border military life will wear the academy glitter from you, and you will develop in time into a man of more sturdy mold whofle as pirations will crave something more substantial than the melody of a soft ly sung love ditty or the giggling smile of a simpering schoolgirl. Those withered bouquets bearing the distin guishing names of Kose and Blanche and Agnes and Katie and other fair uniform worshiper* now so precious to you. will soon find lodgment in the coal scuttle; those daintily perfumed notes will go upward in the smoke of the grate; the oft-kissed photos will lie neglected in your trunk in the store room, and the memory of the dear but terflies who cared little for you, but who loved to flutter around your grav uniform and hurl glances of defiance at ' pouting rivals, will be but as a hazy dream, which you will not in your ma turer sense carc for memory to produce in too strong coloring. You will not be so fastidious in dressing for the sad dle and the field as yon were in dress- ! ing for the ballroom, or to keep an ap pointment with the latest 'plump quail' who had fallen a victim to your military air and brass buttons. Enjoy your trophies while you may, my boy, for stern dxaty will s'>on bid you shake off the aspect of the beau and don the more earnest air of the soldier." Lieut. Vandever came, and was at once located in bachelor quarters and listed for duty. Cupt. aud Mrs. Colby, j ftS.ib? oldest in point of resi^BS? at the i>ost. announced a reception in honor of the uew oftleer, anil on the evening de ignatcd the parlor of the Colby quarters was well filled with officers and ladies. Lieut. Vandever was introduced to all. and was cordial 1V welcomed into the society of the garrison. He proved to be a quite handsome young gentleman, and had brought with him a smile which had no doubt played sad havoc with maid enly hearts at the alma mater on the historic Hudson, yet beneath the sur face there seemed to lurk an imperious, tyrannical, if not cruel nature, which the smiling face could not entirely con ceal. He was studiously polite in his demeanor toward the ladies and en deavored to be a '"hail fellow well met" among the gentlemen, but a sort of repellant glance which at times >hot from his eyes went far toward smoth ering the warmth with which both gentlemen and ladies would have glad ly welcomed him. Alice was at the party and was ex quisitely lovely in her dress of purest white. She was the especial idol of the ladies of the garrison, and there was more than one dissatisfied look on the more matronly faces when it was observed that Vandever seemed to bo greatly smitten with her charming presence and grace of manner. lie was devoted in his attentions to the fair girl. so much so. in fact, that his as siduity really annoyed her. and to es cape him she excused herself at the earliest moment consistent with polite ness and went to her home. The young officer evidently classed Alice in the same category with the frivolous young ladies without whose presence life at West Point would have to him been unendurable. His vanity told hhn that while the girl with mod est instinct treated him shyly at the first meeting she could not long resist his charms, and would soon listen to his protestations of alleged love as rapturously as a score of girls had done during his cadetsliip. Hence, at their every future meeting he aimed his every shaft of wit, eloquence, com pliment and flattery at the citadel of her young heart, and was really sur prised at her failure to open wide its gate and bid him enter as its conqueror. She treated him with marked polite ness at all times, yet in her heart wished that their meetings might be as the visits of angels in the olden adage. It was not long before it began to be whispered about that Lieut. Vandever was tyrannical and imperiously lordly in his treatment of the men who eame under his supervision when he served as officer of the guard, and had been at times insulting in his relations with the men of his own troop in the quar ters. No complaints were made, how ever, and the rumors were lightly treated until one day Sergt. Barrett, an old trooper who had grown gray in the service, went to headquarters and asked for an interview with the com manding officer. His request was promptly granted, for Col. Sanford was always accessible to the men under . him. The old sergeant entered the office, and removing liis cap and salut ing the commander stood like a statue awaiting permission to speak. •'What is it, sergeant?"' the colonel asked. "Sir, I have been a soldier for more than twenty years, and this is the first time I have ever made a complaint. I VANDEVER SEEMED TO BE GREATLY SMITTEN. would have gone to the captain of my troop, but he is absent from post on a hunt, and the officer of whom I would complain is temporarily in command of the troop. Ido not think, sir, there is a man in the service who feels more respect for his superior officers than I do, or who is more prompt at recogniz ing their rank than I when I meet them. Lieut. Vandever came into the quarters an hour ago just as I was leaving the room, and I saluted him as was my duty. A moment later I was standing on the porch just outside the door when he came out, and I assumed the position of a soldier and waited for him to pass. No officer who has been any length of time in the service would have desired or expected a repetition of my salute, but the lieutenant stepped up and shook his flst at me and rough ly said: " 'What do you mean, fellow? Do you know who I am? Why do you not salute me?' "I tried to explain to him, but he crossly told me to shut up, and said he would teach me the respect due an offi cer. He then placexl me under arrest. Sir, I served as a private soldier for six years and was never in the guardhouse as a prisoner, and during my fourteen years' service as a non-commissioned officer I have nt'vr until now been under arrest, and it hurts me, sir. He humbled me before some of the men of my troop, but I don't mind that so much us the disgrace he has fastened to me." "Is that all that passed between you, sergeant?" "That is all, sir. The lieutenant used some language that he would be ashamed to use toward a soldier of my service after ho has been in the army awhile, but I do not complain of that. I wish the disgrace of arrest wiped from my long record, sir, that is all." "If it will in any manner soothe your wounded feelings, sergeant, I will say to you that I have known you for a long time and have always regarded you as a model soldier. You can go to your quarters. I will look into the matter." The sergeant saluted and retired, and an orderly was dispatched to sum mon Lieut. Vandever to headquarters. The yoting officer had from his window seen the sergeant leave the office, and instinctively felt that his unwarranted action had been reported to the colo nel. He entered the commander's presence with a timid air, and seated himself in a chair pushed toward him. "Lieutenant, you have placed Sergt. Barrett of your troop under arrest." "Yes, sir, for showing me disrespect." "In what manner?" "He failed to salute me when I passed him, and retorted when I reprimanded him." "Had he act saluted you in a proper and respectful manner but a moment before?" "Yes, sir, but then I was entering the quarters. He did not recognize me when I came out any more than ho would have done one of his own com panions." "In what language did he retort when you reprimanded him?" "He endeavored to excuse hin..aelf for —his—his—his breach of military disci pline. Ilia words were respectful, sir, but the expression on his face was not." "A issk Uie Uk grace you had inflicted on him, or one of contempt?" "Contempt, sir. t'ninistakable con tempt." "Out of respect for your rank, Lieut. Vmdever. the sergeant should hare, tried to hide his feeling*. I wish to say to you. sir, that Scrgt- Harrett was a tried and true soldier wh«n yon were a puling infant in your mother's arms. I have known him for many years, and in all of his long and faith ful service this is the first blot ever cast on his record. He is a -man fitted by education and long service to fill a position above the one you now oc cupy. Sergt. liarrett is a soldier who is not at all lacking in respect for his superiors in rank. Were Ito meet him and receive and acknowledge his salute and on turning around he should sa lute me again. I would think he had been drinking, sir. and would pardon his excessive manifestation of respect on that ground. I believe I have noth ing more to say to you, sir. further than that your hasty order placing this man under arrest must be instantly re voked." Stung to the quick at this official re buke, the lieutenant sought his quar ters. An order was at once sent to the non-commissioned officer annulling the verbal order of arrest, and directing him to report to the first sergeant of his troop for duty. Lieut. Vandever and Miss Sanford frequently met, and it did not take the young officer long to learn that any at tention shown her outside the bounds of ordinary politeness and courtesy w mid be met with marked displeasure. He was really desperately in love with the beautiful girl, and did not despair of arousing in her heart a responsive emotion; but her attitude toward him told him all too plainly tnat he could never gain her favor through the me dium of light flattery and gallant at tention which had proved so effective in transitory love affairs at "The Point." He soon ceased to force his at tentions upon her, and tried to be con tent to wait and hope. He felt that his charm of manner was Irresistible—dos ens of girls had told him so in moon light wanderings—and he did not doubt that at some future day the fair girl would strike her colors and capitulate. (TO BE CONTINUED.) NIAGARA'S POWER. Zt Is Being: Harnessed for Manufacturing- Purpose*. Engineers have estimated that the total water power of Niagara falls is seven million horse power. This esti mate, to be sure, is in the main only a guess, but when the area drained into the lakes above Lake Ontario and pass ing through Niagara river be consid ered, the guess or estimate does not seem to be too large. The water sur face of the great lakes above Ontario is 84,000 square miles, and the watershed of these lakes Is 240,000 square miles— more than twice the area of Great Brit ain and Ireland. The total length of shore line is 5,000 miles, while tho vol ume of water is 6,000 cubic miles, of which Lake Superior contains almost one-half. The rate of outflow at Buf falo Is from 217,000 to 275,000 cubic feet per second, while the fall of the catar act is 165 feet. The volume of water in the lakes is such that it has been esr timated that even if no rain fell the flow of the river would be continued at its present rate for one hundred years — that is, if the lakes could be gradually drained. These are very large figures, 6ays Harper's Weekly, but in the main they are the results of exact measurements. The small water powers in the world are uneven, and are affected by floods and droughts, but this great power at Niagara is as constant as anything in this world can be, not even the ice in the severest and longest winter ever known appreciably changing it. The present plant is intended only to utilize 125,000 horse.power, and the turbines I now in place are only for a small part i of this. Other turbine wheels will be 1 put in place as the demand for the i power grows The general plan of the i company contemplates the ultimate use of 450.000 horse-power on the American .side ami a like amount in Canada. Such a power would turn all the wheels ' within a radius of 500 miles of the falls. At the present time a considera | ble part of the power developed is to be taken to Buffalo by electric transmis ! sion, and it is the confident expectation of the electricians now at work on the problem that the power can be taken as far east as Albany, 300 miles away, and delivered there cheaper than power can be generated by burning coal. If this be so, then all the country be tween Albany and the falls will be ad mirably adapted for manufacturing, while the Erie canal will afford cheap and tolerably quick transportation, for there seems to be little difficulty in the way of hauling these boats by electric al power. POOR MARKSMANSHIP. Firing 111 Doth Army and JCmvy Less Acs* curat© Than Formerly. The training of naval artillerists has, in recent years, been given a good deal of attention, and no end of powder and shot has been expended in target prac tice designed to serve a more telling purpose in actual warfare, should the occasion present itself. It would seem, therefore, says Cassier's Magazine, that the floating equipments of naval powers of to-day ought to give good accounts themselves in point of marksmanship if called into action, though it would be presumptuous to undertake to fore shadow possible results. If, on the other hand, past experience counts for anything, there would seem to have been a notable decline in accuracy in naval gunnery, growing with succes sive improvements in naval architec ture and naval armament. It was esti mated somo years ago, from data fur nished by target practice at sea, that a heavj* gun must be discharged fifty times to make one effective hit. The old smooth-bores were credited with killing a man by the discharge of the gun's weight in shot; in other words three tons of thirty-two-pounder shot were required for the purpose. Actual service test with modern high-power guns, however —guns weighing twelve tons—has, within 0 e past ten or twelve years, shown that it took about sixteen tons of projectiles to accomplish the same thing. It is interesting to note from what statistics arc available that the introduction of rifled muskets into the armies has had a somewhat similar result. The old-time muskets, it is said, killed a man by firing at him his own weight in lead bullets, but the modern rifle, in the hands of the aver age soldier, so it has been figured out, does not effect a fatality until it has discharged twice the man's weight in lead. Both here, as well as in naval shooting, therefore, there has been shown to be an important demand for greater skill and care. Whether this has been met in any measure, future hostilities only will tell. Sincere Au miration* Mr. Boozley (reading)—lt is grand sport. There is no pleasure like reel ing off ten or twenty inile6 on one's wheel. What a cycler (hie) that man must be! Why. it's (hie) all I expcc' to be able to do to (hie) reel home two blocks t'night!—Judge. Inductive Reason tn k Little Boy—lt's wickeder to move your arms than your legs on Sunday. Little (Jirl—Guess not. Little Boy—Yes, it Is. Mamma will let me take walks ou Sunday, but she won't let me ftf ro*tß9 in No 47 PLAN FOR GREENHOUSE. Fall Directions for Balldtng: and How to Arrange the Interior. The accompanying illustrated shows the plan for a greenfrfmse which is cheap acd «r>ves a different temperature in the various parts of the house, yet is heated with only one fire. It really consists of two small preen houses joined together as shown. The front part is ten feet wide and twenty-two feet long 1 , and the rear part is eight feet wide and twenty two feet long. I have used this green house for two winters and it works admirably. I grow palms and hot house plants in one section, and prim roses, cinernrias and cool greenhouse plants in the other, and all thrive sat isfactorily. To build the house I dug •in the ground two and a half feet, then set in oak posts eight feet long, sinkiug them three feet in the ground. This left the walls five feet high, ex cept the south wall, which is only four feet high. This wall being low lets in plenty of sunshine. The framework is oak scantling two by three inches, and the walls a.-e made of oak boards one inch thick. Then earth is banked up to the top of the wall, and sodded. The rafters on the south side are C "s X T " 1 . £:f ; £ D Ul GROITXD TI.A3 OF OKEESHOfSK. seven feet long; all the other rafter* | are four and one-haft feet long. The letter a indicates the position of the stove, which is an old-fashioned wood heating stove, for which I paid 91-50. The le.Ts are left off and it is set on brieks so as to place it low down, and over it is built the cutting bench, tlie bottom of the bench being two feet from the top of the stove. A large ; pot of water is bept on the stove to ! maintain due moisture in the air. A , larce p'.eee of sheet-iron is placed be tween the stove and the wall; another piece is arranged so as to be easily moved in and out between the top of the stove aud tho bottom of the cut ting bench. The dotted lines shojr where the flue passes from the stove. The flue is ma le of six-inch tile except one joint of stove pipe next the stove. This tile is supported by strong gal vanized wire fastened to the wall at one end, and to the rail on the flower bench at the other end. The joints of tile are luted together with wet clay, which makes it easy to take them down for cleaning out the soot, which mu«t be done about once a month in winter. The bench indicated by 6 and eis built high enough to allow two and one-half feet space under it, which gives room to get under to put wood in the'stove; b is a bed of heliotrope which is always in bloom, and e ia where tlie carnations are grown for winter blooming. The fire is allowed to burn its full force only in zero weather, when it must be looked after every four hours. In moderately cold weather it may be left all night. There is always a dif ference of ten to twelve degrees be tween the middle and the ends of the greenhouse. At d is the rose bench, where roses are grown for cut flowers, a Marcchal Kiel being in the end near est the fire. The bench is two feet high; t is the place for begoniaa and youiig palms; f , smilax, the bench low down; g. coleus, begonias, etc.; A, a large palm; i, a tall plant. All the benches, k,! and m, are used for planta for sale. The walks are two feet wide. The door is in the west end, and a storm door is built outside. I did all the work myself, and the green house cost me fifty dollars. With a few cold frames in addition it will, if well managed, turn out S3OO to S3OO worth of planta and cut flowers per year. Still, if the purse will admit, I ad vise to build it on the level ground and not dig. Use two thicknesses of boards and put tarred paper between them, as the building will then last much longer, will not be so damp in continued wet weather, and will then allow cold frames to be placed outside the east wall. My house has a good drain, which is indispensable for a house built below the level of the ground. —Orange Judd Farmer. Many Sorts on Una Tree. A writer in Gardening Illustrated suggests the utility of grafting a num ber of kinds of pears on a single tree for household use. Not many families can consume the produce of a large tree, ripening about the same time, whereas single limbs of various sorts, ripening in succession, would yieldj welcome supplies. He suggests (for English use) eight kinds — Jargonelle, William's lion Chretien (Bartlett), Beurre Superfin, Louise Bonne, Doy enne du Cornice, Marie Louise, Jo sephine de Malines and Beurre d'Es perancc, from which one may reason? ably hope tc get a limited supply of fruit from the end of August to the first of March. With some variations to suit one's soil, climate and taste, this plan might be (and has been) pur sued to advantage by the American amateur, and extended to embrace other fruits. Wo remember years ago visiting the garden of Charles Down ing in Newburgh, N. Y., where, in consequence of limited space and many varieties to test, he had grafted and regrafted his trees until they seemed to be bearing crops of label* as well as of fruit. — Country Gentle man. TURNED FAKIR. An Englishman Who Adopted the Ralicloa ot the Hindoos. A singular case of a European turn ing fakir, or Hindoo holy man--and that in the most European station in India—was lately brought to light, says the Pall Mall Gazette. At Bishop Cotton school, at Simla, there was once an English boy named Charles de Reus selte. He got into some boyish scrape, and, to avoid the consequences, ab sconded. Search proved abortive, and nothing more was heard of the fugi tive. It apjvars now that he had wan dered no farther away than Monnt Takkho, ju.il above. There he had taken refuge with the fakir of a native temple. He became Lrst the holy man's acolyte and eventually his successor. His identity with the runaway school boy WHS entirely lost, and the sanctity of his life made him an exceedingly in fluential personage. Meantime, Cnarlaa de Eeusselte had become entitled to a large fortune, und was being adver tised and sought for far and wide without success. One day a corre spondent of the Lucknow Gazette, who chanced to be at Simla, fell in with the fakir, und either discovered hi* secret or had it communicated to him. But the heir manifested no desire to claim his inheritance. On the contrary, he assured the correspondent that he should never revert to the religion of his fathers, nor ever return to jtion. Uew-asqu^ch^ywheyßiW'Wlfc >-*»
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers