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
>-*»