VOL. XXXIII
COME AND SEE US
We are Located on South Main Street,
Opposite Hotel Butler,
r i
In the room formerly occupied by Hartzell & J
Kemper. We have received our spring stock j
of Tans in different shades, Patent Leathers, \
Kangaroos, etc. Our stock of Ladies h ine ;*•. V
Shoes and Oxfords is very large —all the latest 1 j£;
style lasts to be found among our stock. We
carry these goods in all sizes and widths, and
prices the lowest. Come and see us. We aV
have many bargains in store for you. i£:
The variety was never so great, j ' /
The styles were never so perfect, J / J
The quality never so good, f il /'
And the prices were never so low. |
11 I nr-T
A FEW OF OLJK PRICES
Ladies fine dongola pat tip ox
fords
Ladies fne serge congress gait
'Xkv '• ' Ladies grain shoes pat tij» heel
Ladies waterproof oil grain
y<i | ml Ladies fine calf slippers soc5 oc
Mens waterproof working shoes i>5 c
Mens fine dress shoes lace or
\ congress $ 1 00
v ** y Boys fine shoes.. . S7SC, sl,s i 25
Misses gocd wearing school
Childrens fine dongola pat tip
shoes
Full stock of Leather and Findings.
Shoemakers supplies of all kinds.
All kinds of dressing for Dongola.
Tan and Patent Leather shots at reduced pi ices.
Mail orders receive prompt attention.
JOHN BICKEL
323 South Main St.
"Tn-mTs,. Butler Pa.
FOOTWEAR!
| B. C. H USELTON >
Undeniably Shows the Largest Stock of Ladies >
} and Gents Fine Shoes of the Latest and v
S Most Stylish Patterns ever Displayed in V
\ HAVE You SEEN THE V
JWi 9 V J One of the most perfect shoes for C
J M \A/ women ever made. Dark wine \
V m shade of Russia Calf, the latest C
/ tint; black eyelets, silk stitched. ?
\ Ladies low 7
\ Wr\mQn'a 90 Tailor madc » 111 lacc ° r button - \
J TT Ollldll S &\J Russet or Dongola, Kid or Pat- \
) fWitnrv SlinAQ ent Leatllcr Ti I JS - Wc sdl thcse 7
C OliUtro beautiful and comfortable shoes at C
f our trade winning figures, $1.50, $2, '
\ WOMEN'S DONGOLA SHOES IN »]L j j
\ MEN'S AND BOYS' TANS J
S most fashionable shades, comfortable \
I lasts, pointed or derby toe, positively r
/ unequaled in Butler. Men's at $1.50, $2, $2.50, $3, $3 50, 1
J $4 and $5; Boys' at $1.35, $1 50 and $2; Youths' at $1.25, r
liul Men's and Boys' Fine Shoes, c
1 KSSf O Plain, Square, Needle or Opera Toe; \
J a " widths, Calf at $2, $2.50, $3 and C
V $3.50; Huff and A Calf at 90c, fl, 7
/ OR I ENT *'* 2s an<l Boys' At 85c, sl, \
( mflmfln |i.2sand I 1.50; Youths' at 75c, fi f
/ ani ' ?
) W Mens Solid Working Shoes ?
J Tile best you ever saw at 75c, fi, jt. 25 S
C and $1.50. See our SI.OO shoe with f
J l>ellus Credetnore, the best made /
• j for the money—others get f 1 .23 and S
C Misses 4 ildrens Spring-heel Shoes >
f All the New Styles in Tail and lilack, I,ace or Button, Pointed or Square C
1 Toe, at 75c, fl, $1.25 and $1.50, sizes 12-2; Cliilds at 40c, 50c, 75c <1 and f
£ $1.35, sizes BJ4-J t; Infants at !<*;, iSc, and 25c and 50c. \
f Come in and sec us and try our shoes. /
S B. C. HUSELTON, °PP Hotel Lowry. )
in Style^
Saving Money*
If you buy your Millinery at
M. F. & M MARKS,
Note these prices: Fancy Braid Hats at 25 cts, wortfi 50 cents-
Finer Braid Hats 50 cts, the kind you have been paying 7; c ts for
elsewhere. Newest shapes in Turbans, 50, 75cents and £1 bo
Persian Ribbon 20 cents per yard, Black Satin Ribbon No. 60 only
30 cents per yard.
THE BTTU'.K CITIZEN.
Take Care
Of your physical health. Build IIJ> your
system, tone your stomach and digestive
organs, increase your appetite, purify and
enrich your blood, by taking
Hood's
Sarsaparilla
The One True Blood Purifier, fl; 6 for ?5.
Mr,.«-v.rl'o Dillc ~c, harmoniously with
MOOO S rlllS Hood's Sarsaparilla !Sc
Professional Cards.
A. M. CHRISTLEY,
ATIOKNEY AT LAW.
OlTleeon North Diamond Stree'. opposite tlx [
Court House—Lower Floe.
ALEX RUSSELL.
Attorney-at-Lavv
Ollice with Newton Black, Esq
South Diamond, Butler, Pa.
A. T. BLACK.
Koom J—Armory Building.
ATTORNKV *r LAW
C. F. L. McQulstlon.
('] vIL RK<MNKKR PURVEYOR.
Ollice near Court House Bnth;r Pa.
NEWTON BLACK.
•tt'yatLaw otnw n So"". «t «i ".it ■
nutlur )'».
A. T. Sco rr.
ATTOUNBV-AT-i.aw.
)Tlee at No. 8. Kout< HI iiuor.iS.
.1 M. FAIMfcK,
.Attorney - at-Law.
nice- Betweon I'ustoltlce and Dlarroi rt, lluiler
fi
S. H. PIe'.HSOL.
ATTOBXUV AT LAW.
onii e at No. 104 Kast lilaoiond f.
COULTER & BAKER.
ATTORNEVB AT I.AW.
tilil'.e In room 8., Am oT\ ll'ilhtiiip. Jiutli •
J*n.
H. H. liOUCILER.
JtMHutj-at-law. 1 nee tn VilteUel! tut dlo.
Butler, Fa.
DR. CHAS. K B HUNT,
Physician and Surgeon.
Eye, ear, nose and throat a specialty
132 tiuri 134 S. M.in Street.,
Kaltton building
\V H. BROWN,
Homoeopathic Physician and
Surgeon.
Ofl'ee 236 S. Main St.. epp. I J . O.
Ke»i(lence 315 N. VleKean ft
J. J. DONALDSON, Dentist.
Butler, Penn'a.
ArtMcial Teeth Inserteo on the lati st im
proved plan. Gold Killing .1 srce'alty. O:"oe
Jvrr B«liaur» ClotMni: Stor*.
V. M ,vl c A LP ! N K
Dotitlst,
Main St.
Naeathcticfe wreri.
SAMUEL M. BIPPUS.
Physician and Surgeon,
soo west iiunniinsiiam St.
Dr. N. M. HOOVER,
IS? K. nfMoe Ijonrs, Hi »>» u M. at.
t > H P. M
DR. S. A. JOHNSTON.
DENTIST, - - HUTLER, PA
*,(? old Filling Painless Extraction ol Veet'i
ud Vrtlßcial leotli without Plateau spet laity
it.roJ.i Otldo or Vlt.tll/.rtd Air or iMca'.
iso-1.
Ortleo over Miller's Or>»::-v of Low: y
oine.
uricH •lotted .Ve 111 esdajsuiid "1 Ii irsd'. 18
DR. J. E FAULK
Dentist.
Office—ln Gilkey huildir.g opft sit. P, O.
L. BLACK,
PHYSICIAN ANI) SUIiUKON,
New Troutiaan Bulldlne, Butler. Pa.
Gv M. ZIMMERMAN.
PHTSIOIAtI
Office at N0."45. ,S. Vain street, r.vrr tit
t Barmiu > ,But ler. Pa,
c. % D.
|UPDER~ 1
IWCAR 1
CXi OJ
I Points 1
So Oo
oo Ck;
ex
o«o — CXJ
OO { fXJ
CV CS->
<Xj OJ
(x
oo CSi
AH m J&rvs HYGISNJFC
oo
o
All of t'ndcrwcr at very
low prices.
Largest stock of hats and
furnishings for gentleman ni the
country. An inspection will prove
| this to any ones satisfacture.
Colbert & Dale.
242 S. Main St., Butler, Penn'a
FOR SALE.
ii House In Donnlevllle on P. Jt W. K. K. u room
ew Irame house, lot looxl>u. Terms easy.
Address R, F. CRAWFORD. ,
1 Valencia, Pa.
ItIJTLEK. PA., THURSDAY. MA.Y 7, 189<».
OUR PROMOTED.
We from our basement windows
Look out with tears:
Th*-y In thi- royal r hainhers
Smile at our (ears
We In the K&therfr.f. shadows
Bow low In our srrlef:
They. In the fadeless Rlory.
Find sweet relief.
We plead with falterlnp accents:
"Help us to pray!"
They, with a harp of triumph.
Praiseth alway!
We cry with bitterest yearning
For His own rest;
They with uttered frladness
1 Lean on His brea=t!
f
W"e, in the now, not knowing,
Trust, though we die!
They, In the sure Hereafter.
Knoweth the why.
We sleep and dream of rapture
To wake heartsore;
They, in the real eternal,
Dreatneth no more!
We, by and by, the portals
Of Heaven shall win;
They, with a love unchanging.
Will bid us in.
| —Rev. Frances K. Townsley. in Union Sig
nal.
WAS NEVER PUBLISHED.
The rain fell relentlessly; the wind
j that swept in through the Golden Gate
1 was piercingly eolil, ami the poor
! wretch toiling painfully up the deep
1 asphalt pavement staggered as he
j walked and now and then stopped to
steady himself, pressing with his
trembling, hand against the buildings
that he passed. His soiled, ragged
clothes were soaking with the wet, and
his emaciated features were pale as
with the chill of death. When he had
reached the summit of Xob hill he
paused and wrapped his arm about itn
electric light post at the corner, lean
ing against it for the support his feeble
frame needed so pitifully. A quick,
firm step sounded on the pavement.
"For God's sake, give me money to
buy food!" said the wretch at the post.
The quick step <x>ased. "\\ hy don't
you say drink, and speak the truth'/"
said the man, running his gloved liana
down Into the pocket of his fur-Plied
overcoat. The glare of the electiic
light shone full upon his handsome,
florid face; the poor wretch caught his
breath sharply and made a step for
ward. The money which the man
tossed into his outstretched hand
gleamed a moment in his trembling
palm, and in another rattled noisily
upon the stones far out into the street.
'"I want no gold of yours," said the
wretch, with energy that shook his
Whole frame. "I want, 110 gold of yours,
Henry Mason."
The man started; his florid fac®
turned livid.
"Who dares to call me Henry Mason?
My name is Derwent. Thomas Der
went," the man said, hoarsely, staring
about him into the night.
"You are out of reach of help just
now, Ilenry Mason," said the wretch,
with a laugh. "I saw the policeman
from this beat running In an opium
soaked Chinese a few moments ago.
I believe my hour of reckoning has
Come at last,"
"Who are you?"
"You knew well enough 20 yeAis
ago," the wretch answered.
"Howard Scott! My God!" cried trie
man.
"Oh, I thought you would recall me,"
and the wretch laughed again.
"What do you want?" asked the man,
unbuttoning his coat. His voice was
unsteady and his hand trembling.
"Neither your money nor your life,
Henry Mason," said the wretch, bitter
ly. "They will do me no good now.
Listen! You live near here. I know
your house. Why on earth I never
spotted you before is a mystery. Hut
I think it was more your hard, cold
voice than your looks tliat betrayed
you." Scott pulled a pistol from li s
hip pocket. The man caught its gleam
in the light and started back.
"Don't move," Scott interposed, calm
ly. "you are not worth it, and my game
is not yet played. Lead on to your
house, and dare to budge one inch out
Of the way at your peril. I want a quiet,
warm place to do some writing. Per
haps you did not know that I adopted a
different profession after yoti ruined
me and helped yourself to my money.
I'm a special correspondent w hen I've
life enough to be anything at all. I
haven't made much of my life, as you
see, but I can write."
"If you want money tell me how
much," Derwent said, hoarsely.
"I told you I wanted no money of
yours," said Scott, moving a step nearer.
"I shall be paid enough for my night's
job to tide over the few weeks of life
that are left me. What I want is re
venge and the chance to set myself right
In the eyes of the world. You have
robbed me of my life; that I cannot get
back. You have stolen my money, as you
did that of many others, and have saddled
upon me a disgrace that should rest on
your own shoulders. It was you who
forged that draft, and not I, and you
know it, though I served my term in
the penitentiary for the crime. You
call yourself a gentleman now, Henry
Mason, and I am worse than a dog, but
my hour hns come. Lead on home."
The wretch had raised his voice al
most to a scream and now waved the
pistol in the air. The man walked on.
glancing over his shoulder furtively.
"I told you I should not kill you un
less you tried to escape," said Scott,
with a sneer. "If you speak to any
passerby, however, you are a dead man
on the word. Go on.
The rest of the way was made in
silence. Scott was close upon Derwent'!*
heels when he mounted the marble steps
of his stately mansion and turned the
latch key. Within all was quiet, the
wretch had counted on this; it was well
past midnight. The gentle radiance
Of the soft lights, the warm air of the
elegant house almost overpowered him,
but Derwent heard the click of the pis
tol in his trembling hand and pushed
open the library door.
"So this is your home, Henry Mason?"
said Scott, staring at him.
"Not so loud, man, for God's sake!"
cried Derwent.
"So this is your home?" Scott pro
ceeded, unheeding. "Not much like the
prison cell that was my home for ten
years, thanks to you, Ilenry Mason; not
very much like the ratholes that make
about the only home I know* now."
"Whut do you want, man?" began
Derwent, his hand finding his pocket
again.
"Pen and paper!" said Scott, fiercely,
rousing himself and sinking into a chair
at the writing table. "Now, do you sit
there across the room from me. Move
or speak at your own risk."
Scott took the pistol in his left hand
nnd began to write, yet keeping a close
eye upon Derwent ail the while. By
and by he read aloud:
"San Francisco, Cal., Jan. 12, 1896. T.
Henry Mason, alias Thomas J. Derwent,
do hereby certify that I forged the note
upon the Goldthwaite benk of New York
city 20 years ago, tor which crime Howard
Bcott stood accused. I declare said Scott
Innocent; I alone am guilty."
"Come, now, and sign your name,
Straight goods; I know your signa
ture, remember."
"I will give you "SIO,OOO, s!.'>,ooo, j*2o,-
000--" began Derwent, eagerly.
1. "Sign."
"Fifty thousand —"
"Sign," and the pistol clicked.
Derwent bent oyr the paper. "One
hundred thousahc—anything, every
thing—"
"Write Henry Mason, alias Thon.nfl
J. Derwent," said Scott.
The man wrote staggering back
from the table with a groan.
"Vow, that part of the business is
finished, ltesuine your scat, said Scott.
"I want to do some writing on my own
hook, and these are about as cozy quar
ters as I can find. \ou are pretty well
known at home, Henry Mason, if you
diil shunt that forgery off on me, and it
will add somewhat to the interest of
my telegrams to state that they were
written in your own handsomely-ap
pointed library. When I have finished
I shall use your telephone a moment.
The boys at the station know me pretty
well. A special correspondent comes
to know a great many people, you
know," lie said, with a short laugh,
"and I shall have no difficulty in getting
n man to take charge of you. Whatever
else they know about ine they know
I am no liar. After that my game is
played."
lie w rote on busily for an hour. At
last he picked up the loose sheets and
read aloud what he had written. He
had told the truth -vhen he »uid l.e
knew how to write. The story that h£
told of his own suffering for the crime
of another would ha-.e made him fa
mous, so full was it of dramatic power
and graphic detail. At the first merci
less headlines Derwent groaned aloud,
but Scott went on pitilessly, telling the
whole dark story of the man's crime.
Meanwhile he sat with his head bow ed
in his hands listening. He did not raise
his head even when Scott rang the tele
phone bell and ordered a man up frcin
the station. The house of cards which
it had taken him 20 years to build !iad
tumbled about his head and he SKt
bowed and broken among the ruins
The passing moment® seemed hours of
agony and despair. In the midst of it
all there was a frou of skirts in the
hall and the patter of slippered Cf-et
on the hardwood floor. The door
ojiened softly.
"Is it you, father, dear?" a sweet
voice asked, and Scott looked up to see
a young girl standing In the doorway,
the brass bolt still In her small white
hand. She was a beautiful, sweet-faced
young thing, and her dead gold hair
was flung loosely back over her w*r*ip
pered shoulders and a tender look of
sleep was in her blue eyes.
"I am so glad you have come, dear,"
she went on. rt l had gone to bed and
was asleep, but I heard the telephone
and fancied it must be you. I am so
glad to see you, you sweet old papa,
you." She had crossed the room and
was kneeling beside him, her white
arms about his neck.
Derwent fanefed he heard a click of
the pistol and looked up sharply*. Diit
Scott threw a newspaper over his left
haml and coughed softly behind his
palm.
"Oh, I beg your pardon, father," said
the girl, springing to her feet. "I
thought you were alone."
There was not even a glance at Scott
as she turned and left the room.
Derwent uttered a stifled cry as the
door closed. "Lucie!"
But Scott had sprung to his feet. "At
your peril," he said, jamming the pis
tol under Derwent's nose.
Your daughter, I suppose ?" he went
"Yes," Derwent murmured.
"How* old is she?"
"Eighteen years."
"Then she knows nothing of your
dirty past?"
"Nothing."
"And believes In you?"
"Yes," and the man groaned.
"Then, God help her," said Scott,
fervently.
The heavy tread of the policeman
was heard mounting the stone steps.
Scott hesitated a moment; then, whip
ping the pistol into his pocket, he
snatched the closely-written sheets
from the table and tore them into
shreds.
"So my game is ended," he said, with
a laugh, as he stuffed the torn bits into ;
the blazing grate. "Open the door and (
let the man in."
Derwent hesitated. "Cowardl" salf
Scott, between his teeth, but he opensd
the door himself.
The big policeman looked from one t<j
the other in amazement. "You, sir?*
he said, staring at Scott. They were
friends in a queer sort of way.
"Yes, Mike," Scott answered. "Gen
tlemen like that one yonder don't like '
to be troubled with wretches like me.
so I guess you'll have to run me in. A
berth in your comfortable quarters is
not objectionable on a night like this." j
"What is to be the charge?" asked j
Mike, turning to Derwent with no very j
good grace.
The man wye silent- He still sat
cowering in his chair, dazed and help
less.
"Oh, the gentleman will no doubt be
on hand to prefer charges in the morn
ing," interposed Scott, with a laugh
"Let's go, Mike."
"What a horrid wretch that was,'
said Lucie, coming from the back of th>?
hall and putting her arm through hei
father's when the door closed. "Mill-it
did he want of you, dear?"
"Money, of course, child," answered
her father, hoarsely.
"Well, I'm glad you telephoned for a
policeman to take him away if he was
troubling you."
A man was reported dead at police
station No. 10 the next morning. Thom
as Derwent went into the little, wwhite
washed, smoke-stained room and stood
a moment looking into the pinched face
of the dead man whose lips were closed
forever. Then, buttoning up his fur
lined overcoat, he went out again,
breathing freely.—Philadelphia Times.
Courtroom Impudence.
There are some men whom it is dan
gerous to deal with in any but the moet
sober fashion. Such a man must have
been old Tom LogtMi, an Oregon lawyer,
and an inveterate vvftg.
One day Logan was arguing a case
before Chief Justice Greene, of the su
preme court, of what was then the
territory of Washington. Opposed to
him was a backwoods lawyer named
Browne. Logan continually referred
to the counsel on the other side as if hiri
name were spelled "Browny," to the
evident annoyance of that gentleman.
At last the judge interfered, remark
ing:
"Mr. Logan, this gentleman's name is
spelled B-r-o-w-n-e, and is pronounced
Brown, not Browny. Now, my name is
spelled G-r-e-e-n-e. but you would not
pronounce it Greeny, would you?"
"That," replied Logan, gravely, but
with a merry twinkle In his eye, "de
pends entirely on how your honor de
cides this ease." —Northwest Magazine
—Here's a large mouth, indeed, thai
spits forth death, and mountains, rocks
and seas; talks as familiarly of lions, as
maidens of 13 do of puppy dogs. What
cannoneer begot this lusty blood? He
speaks plain cannon, fire, smoke and
bounce; he gives the bastinado with his
tongue.—Shakespeare.
—Hamilton, at the age of 16, wrote
political essays that were credited by
the general public to Jay.
ARBUTUS.
Where the wondlar.d shadows dim
Are atretchtnK far and wide,
Fnder leaves of rusty brown
The dainty Mayflowers hide.
Maples, in a rosy flush.
Are waking from their dreams.
Silver bright beyond the hill
The winding river gleams;
Rut sliyly hidden from the sight
Beneath the moss and leaves.
The loveliest blossom of the woods
Her fairy magle weaves.
Downy catkins touched with gold
Each willow tree uplifts.
Through the air like shining dust
The amber pollen drifts.
Lazily the yellow bees
Are humming In the sun,
Gayly down their pebbly paths
The little streamlets run.
But hidden from the careless eye.
As love alone can tell.
The daintiest blossom of the spring
Has wrought her magic spell.
Pinker than the pink wild rose
In summer's golden light;
Rosy as a sunset cloud
Before the fall of night;
As holy as the poet's thought.
For words too pure and high;
As fair as dreams of days to coxne.
As dear as days gone by;
As fragrant as a wandering breath
From hea\enly worlds above—
The loveliest blossom God has made
Is bieathlng out His love.
—Angelina W. Wray, in X. V. Independ
ent.
END OF THE RAINBOW.
UV ELIZABETH A. MOOKK.
Ever since Nelly could remember she
had know n that anyone who could reach
the end of a rainbow* before it fuded
would find there great treasures. Janet,
the nurse, had often told her so, and of
course Janet knew. The stories did not
always agree as to what these treasures
consisted of, but whatever else there
was or was not, the "pot of gold" was
always sure to be there. Whenever
Nelly had seen a rainbow, in her short
life of five summers, she had been
strongly tempted to hurry off and seek
these wonderful riches; but Janet had
always objected that the grass was too
wet, or it was too near tea time, or
given some other reason, so that the end
of the rainbow had never been reached.
But Janet had gone away now-, be
cause something had happened, Nelly
didn't know just what, that had made it
necessary to dispense with a great many
things they formerly had. First the
pony and carriage had gone; and then
Janet, who had lived with them ever
since Nelly could remember, had kissed
her a great many times and gone away
too. And only a little while before she
had heard pupa and mamma talking
about something which worried them
very much, and her papa said:
"I'm afraid we will have to sell the
place nnd move somewhere else. A few
thousands of dollars would set every
thing right, but I don't see where it's
to come from, and we musn't go into
debt."
Nelly had not waited to hear what
her mamma replied, but ran out in the
garden in great grief.
Sell the place, he had said, and move
somewhere else! Why, Nelly couldn't
bear even to think of such a thing. She
loved every part of her pretty home with
its roses climbing over the porch, and
the cool, shady corners where the ferns
and mosses grew. It was bad enough
to lose Janet and the pony and the other
things which she remembered they used
to have and now did not have; but this
was too much, and Nelly threw herself
on the grass by her own little flower
bed, where the big pink lady slippers
that she had herself planted were just
coming out, and wept. But not for very
long, for, though such a little maiden,
she saw- that tears would not solve this
awful problem of what to do, so she
dried her eyes on her apron and triad
to think. A few* thousands of dollars
would set everything right, her father
hail said, but Nelly had no more idea of
how much that was tliun her kitten Puff,
wildly scampering around the lawn
after his tail. There was Uncle Ben,
that is, her papa's Uncle Ben, who w as —-
oh, very rich. But then he was away
off and had not been to see them for a
long time, not since the apple blossoms
were all out, and that had been a very
long while ago.
Suddenly a bright Idea came to her.
There was the pot of gold at the end of
the rainbow, If she could but get it.
There had been only one or two rain-
IXJWS this summer, but when the next
came she would run all the way, to be
sure to get there in time. It was true
they almost always came after thunder
storms, and Nelly was dreadfully afraid
of thunder, but now* she looked up at the
bright, blue sky and sighed that there
was not even a cloud in sight. "Well,
it's awful hot," she said, hopefully,
"and thunderstorms always come when
it's hot, .so maybe one will come some
time soon," and, now that this difficult
question was settled, she ran off and had
soon forgotten all about her troubles in
romping with Puff.
After awhile the sky, which had
loolfed so hopelessly clear, did begin to
cloud over, and toward evening, for the
first time in her life, Nelly heard with
[♦ieasure, mingled with her childish
dread, the distant roll of thunder. It
came nearer and nearer, and before long
the storm, which had been gathering
all the while she was taking her after
noon nap, came upon them. She kept
close to her mother all the while the
lightning flashed and the thunder rolled
over the house; for she had to own that
she was a little afraid, even though she
had been so anxious for the storm to
come, and was very glad it was not a
very drjadful one, such as they had had
sometimes.
Presently the storm over, and
away low down in the west the sun came
out. To Nelly's delight a bright rain
bow appeared in the east and dropped
down just by the woods. Now was the
little girl's chance. She did not tell her
i.'other of her intentions, becatise she
wanted to surprise her and her father,
so she slipped off through the garden,
never heeding the rain which was still
softly falling. She climbed over the
fence at the end of the garden and ran
down the little hill outside, and through
the fields that lay between her home
and the woods where the rainbow
seemed to touch the earth. The grass
was very wet uud poor Nelly's dainty
blue dress was getting sadly draggled
and spotted. She tried to run between
the drops as Janet had said was the way
to do; but somehow she couldn't manage
it just right, and they came tumbling
down on her bare golden head and eager
baby face, as she hurried on, intent on
her loving errand.
Once she tumbled over a tree stump
nnd scratched her hand, but she <snly
said: "Oh, dear," and ran on toward
the beautiful bow, which somehow did
not seem to get any nearer, no matter
how* far she went. But the woods were
r.ear, and Nelly could not see the end
of the bow beyond, so it must be in the
woods, and of course the pot of gold
that was to secure her pretty home
must be there, too. This thought mode
her hurry on again eagvrly, as if the
treasure was already here.
She looked back just as she was en
tering the woods and saw her home
away off up the hill; and saw, too, that
the sun was almost down, and that the
rain had nearly stopjieil. Then she gath
ered up all her courage njid went boldly
into the woods. She pushed through the
low bushes ou the edge, ;ind came to a
little path, which she followed till sud
denly, n little way before her, she saw
the treasure she was seeking!
She didn't sec the rainbow leading
down to it, as she expected, but that,
she thought, must lw ln-cause it was so
dark in the woods; but anyhow this
must lie it. It seemed to be swung on
three crooked sticks stuck up in the
(•roui.ti <" r c ome dead leaves and
broken luai.L . •■»>»' did not giitter at
all, as she bad ti . . ' would. In
fact it looked more like an u. n . « j..it
than anything else, and had a lid 011 so
she could not see inside. But Nelly had
not the slightest doubt that this was the
treasure of which Janet had told her.
even though its outward appearance
did not come up to her expectations.
She went over and tried to unfasten
it, and had just succeeded and w as drag
ging it away, when a man appealed on
the scene; a big, rough-looking fellow
that it frightened poor Nelly even to
look at!
"Hey, there, w hat're you about?" this
man demanded, roughly.
"Oh, please, sir," cried Nelly, still
holding fast to her treasure, "I'se come
all the way from home after it. "cause
my papa needs some money awful bad.
and I knew Pd find it at the end of the
rainbow —and, oh dear, oh dear,' and
Nelly broke down and s»>l>l>ed in her dis
r.p|)ointment and fright.
"What's yosi talkin' about ?" asked the
man, not so roughly. "Stop your cryin'
nnd tell me what all this nonsense Is
about the rainbow. I'm not goin" to
hurt you."
Somewhat reassured, Nelly stopped
crying nnd looked up.
"Why, don't you know," she asked, in
surprise, "that there's always a pot of
gold at the end of the rainbow? 1 saw
it come down here in the woods and i
ran all the way to get it for my i>api>,
who wants some money dreadful bad."
"Does, eh? That's funny. Well, so
do I."
"Hut you won't now, 'cause you've got
all this. Oh, dear. I wish I'd got here
sooner, 'cause you're a big man and can
easy get another."
"Why. bless yer life." said the man, at
last comprehending Nelly's meaning,
"that ain't no pot of gold. I only wish i?
was. That there's my supper Iw as jus'
goin' to cook, only everything's so wet, I
dou't know how I'm goin' to do it. Het "
look for yerself, if you don't believe
me," he said, as Nelly appeared increde
lous, and he lifted the lid, displaying
to her horrified gaze some ordinary JK»
tatoes lying In their jackets ready to In
cooked.
Then all Nelly's courage disappeared
on the instant, and she cried in terror.
"Oh. I want to go home! I'se so afraid 1
Oh, dear, oh, dear!"
Just then they heard M sound outsidi
the woods of some one calling: "Nelly,
Nellv!"
"Oh, that's me. anil somebody's look
in' for me! Oh. I'se so glad! \es, 1 s.'
coinin'," anil Nelly darted away from
the deceitful stew ing pot and itsow ner,
and at the edge of the woods w a.s caught
in the arms of no other than dear, lon>r
lost I'ncle Ben.
Then once more safe and happy, kind
hearted little Nilly remembered the
lone man in the woods who had fright
ened her so, and w ho was so dreadfully
ignorant about rainbows, and nothing
would do but Uncle Ben should go back
and see him, with the result that a gen
erous piece of money found its way into
the pocket of the forlorn stranger.
"Now, Nell, you rogue, tell me why
you ran off like this and scared yor.r
mother so," said Uncle Ben, a.s he pulled
one of the wet golden curls that lay on
his shoulder. "Here I come to see you
and find the house in confusion and
everybody running around calling for
Nelly. And nobody knows anything
about the naughty girl, only Bridget
thought she saw her run down the hill,
and then poor old Uncle Ben, with his
rheumatism and neuralgia, has to go
out after his bad child, and finds her
talking to a tramp in the woods. Now
tell me what it all means, miss."
"Oh, Uncle Ben," said Nelly, "I didn't
tell mamma 'cause I wanted to s'prise
her and papa. I ran off to find the pot of
gold at the end of the rainbow, that
Janet told me about, "cause papa's got
to sell the house and move away if he
don't get some money. And, oh —I
didn't find it, after all."
Uncle Ben laughed.
"Poor Nell, and she didn't find it.
Well, don't try again, or you may meet
a trunup not quite so harmless as you:*
friend of the stewing pot. But what's
all this about moving. Nelly ? You know
I'm a stranger and haven't heard all the
news."
So Nelly gave her version of the
troubles that had overtaken the family,
and how she was going to set every
thing right by bringing home the treas
ure from the end of the rainbow, and
then how it all ended.
"But now you're here, Uncle Ben, and
you'll do just as well," Nelly concluded,
with perfect confidence in his ability
and willingness to furnish untold quan
tities of riches.
"Well, well," was all Uncle Ben saifl,
"I came just in time. We'll have to see
about things, you and I, Nell," and
Nelly knew that Uncle Ben's methods
of "seeing about things" were always
satisfactory*.
Uncle Ben was as good us his word,
and, though Nelly never knew how it
was managed, she knew it was through
him that their pretty home was not sold.
But the mystery of the rainbow and
its wonderful treasures has not yet
been quite solved to her satisfaction. —
Good Ifousekeeping.
A Koyal Critic's Blunder.
A strange story, illustrating the flan
gers of too frank artistic criticism on
the [Kirt of royalty, is told by the Copen
hagen journals. King Oscar of Sweden,
who is not in the best odor in the Nor
wegian capital just at present, recently
visited the annual art exhibition in
Christiania, accompanied by the crown
prince. The visitors were conducted
through the galleries by Mr. Holmboe.
a member of the committee and him
self a painter. On pausing lie fore a cer
tain canvas the crown prince remarked
that it was a "fearful" composition.
The king, after stooping to discovei the
artist's name, presently ejaculated wifli
a smile: "Why, the man must be mad!"
The picture was by Holmboe himself,
but neither of the royal visitors was
aware that it was he who was showing
them round. The artist felt much of
fended, and afterwards declared that he
intended to demand an upology. He
was prevailed on by the king's adju
tants, however, to say nothing, in or
der not to embarrass his royal critics.
The sequel is reported to have taken
place at a banquet given in connection
with the Norwegian Artists' associa
tion, held on the same evening, when
the president announced, amidst ap
plause, that instead of proposing King
Oscar's health as usual he would give
that of Mr. Holmboe.—Westminster Ga
zette.
Origin of Music.
The origin of music is lost in the
twilight of tradition. In Holy Scripture
Jubal is mentioned as the father of mu
sicians (see Gen. 4: 21), and the Greeks
and Romans both gave mythological ac
counts of its Invention. To come to
later times, musical notes are said to
have been invented by Guido Aretino, a
Benedictine monk of Arezzo, in Italy, in
A. D. 1023. —Chicago Inter Ocean.
PHOTOGRAPHING A WHALE.
A snap-shot Ht a Mnn«rrr m* il
Out of the nmrr.
Whether a certain ntialt that break
fasted, lined and supped every day in
the Santa Catalina ehannel, went oiit
one morning with the determination of
bring photographed, I really cannot
say; but the picture wax certain!}
taken.
Living In the neigltorhood the whale
was prolialih familiar with the steamer
that plowed daily through its dining
room; and if it was at all an observing
whale, it must have noticed on the
morning in question at: unusual commo
tion on the deck of the steamer, and
this is what it saw. The passengers
were crowding about the rail,and on "he
upper deck stood a man and ft little girl,
the former holding a sijuare black bos
Into which he looked earnestly. And If
the whale had come a little nearer this
is what he might have heard:
"Will he look pleasant?" asked the
little girl of her companion.
"1 hope so," he replied, glancing rap-
Idly from the camera to the whale that
was then swimming a few hundred feet
away.
The passengers had first observed it
a mile or more distant, when the little
girl said it was "dancing on its tail."
It had, really, leaped out of the water,
and for a few seconds exposed almost
its entire back most astonishing spec
tacle— and then had fallen back into the
sea with a thundering crash. Soon it
came to the surface again, ana shoot
ing ft cloud of vapor into the air that
slowly floated away, at Intervals dis
appeared and reappeared until finally
it came alongside the steamer, swim
ming along within a short distance. It
was then that the fortunate possessor
of the camera secured a good position
near the rail, and waited, as his little
companion had said, for the whale to
"look pleasant." Looking pleasant. In
this instance, meant for the whale to
show n large portion of its body above
the water. It was now swimming just
below the surface, its tinge bla< k form.
60 or 70 feet in length, distinctly visible,
propelled by the undulating movement
of the tail. Suddenly It rose, showing
just the portion around the blow holes,
and with a loud puff the hot breath
burst into the air, was condensed, and
in a little cloud drifted awav.
"Didn't he look pleasant?" asked the
little girl, earnestly.
"Not quite pleasant enough."said t.he
photographer, as he peered In the tiny
window of the camera that reflected
the sea In brilliant tints. "1 could catch
the sjMiut but I want to wait until he
throws his entire head out of water and
looks really pleasant I touch tht?
button."
It was an exciting moment, as never,
so far as known, had a living whale, in
the open ocean, posed before a camera,
or a photographer seen so huge an ani
mal obligingly swim alo-ig, allowing
its picture to lie taken.
"It's a tame whale, isn't itV'said tlie
little girl, as the whale gradually came
nearer.
"He certainly does not seem very
timid," replied her companion; and as
he spoke, ptifflcame the spouting lik"
the escape of steam, the vapor actually
drifting aboard the steamer Into the
faces of the passengers.
The whale wns now BO near lhat th<»
barnacles npon his back could be seen,
and one man was sure thnt he saw'its
e,ve. Suddenly It sank, and all that
could be seen in the little window was
the dancing waves and the white sails
of myriads of velellas that covered the
surface, scudding- along- before the fresh
tradewind. Then, without warning,
the creature ns suddenly rose again,
showing a large area of its bnck, send
ing at the same time a cloud of misty
vapor into the air as its top or dorsal fln
appeared. The photographer saw it in
the little window, and evidently think
ing that the whale looked as pleasant
as he in all probability would, touched
the button, ami so far as i.s known, took
the first photograph of a living whal?
in the open ocean.—Charles Frederick
Holder, in St. Nicholas.
DUMAS, FATHER AND SON
The Tetter Was Made Legitimate When
His Mother Wag Dying.
Dumas does not seem at any time to
have thought seriously of matrimony.
Perhaps,had the Rouennaise seamstress
been free to marry him, his relations
with her would have been legalized, and
the current of his life would have run
in a less zigzag channel. She was a per
son of rare constancy of purpose nnrt
dignity of character, living always by
her work, and carefully watching over
her son. When she and Dumas quar
reled, the filiation of the younger Alex
ander was "recognized" by the elder, a
legal formality which gave him pa
ternal rights and enabled the father ta
take him from his mother and plact
him >is a boarder in the College Chaptal.
But as the father's nnger was evanes
cent, his heart soft and righteous, the
maternal claims were not long denied.
The woman urging them sought nnd
obtained, to be near her child, the di
rection of the linen and the shirt-mend
ing department in the college, and not
only lived on her salary, but made pro
vision to help her son forward when h(
grew up, and for her own old age.
The son cherished her in her life and
revered her memory. As he marrjed P
Russian lady of high rank, his mothe.
would not live with him when he was
rich and renowned until she felt sh*
was dying. This was in 1868. The
prodigal father, who hardly deserved
the name of Dumas pere, was then
broken in health and falling into the
state of permanent somnolency which
took hold of him before his death. Ilis
daughter, Mme. Petel, with impulsive
generosity, a.sked him to make her half
brother legitimate by marrying his
mother in extremis, and this he did.--
Emily Crawford, in Century.
Making It Pleasant for Him.
"I w ants to git a white man arrested
fer incendiary trespass or somfin," said
the perturbed colored gentleman.
"What's up?" the policeman.
"Man hired me toe rake leaves out
his yard, an' when I was most froo he
say: 'Mose. Dat wouldn't bo no halid
wuk dt all ef you was doln' it jes fer
fun, would it?' an' I say: 'Dat'sso; wui<
fer fun ain't nebbah so tirin' as wuk
fer pay.' Den be say: 'All right; I des
not pay you an' dat will mek it easier
fer you. Always like to help pore
lubrln' man along.' Now, wouldn't
dat jar you?"—lndianapolis Journal.
Ruled Oat of Turkey.
Here is the latest story of the Turkish
custom house. A richlv-bound copy of
"Herodotus" was found in a trunk Of u
Greek traveler. "Who Is the author of
this book?" said the official. "Hero
dotus." "What subjects does he deal
with?" "Kings and international con
flicts." "Does he allude to eastern af
fairs?" "He treats of nothing else."
Whereupon the book was immediately
confiscated.—London News.
Solid rookery.
"I made these biscuit myself, Billl
ger." said Mrs. McSwat, with honest
pride.
"They look very nice, Lobelia," re
plied Mr. McSwat, picklngone of them
tip and making an effort to split It.
"And they are still hot. How long ago
did you -ah—east them?" Chicago
Tribune.
IST®. 19
SCHOOL AND CHURCH.
A •nt *4 yem old is a member
of tic : i hinnn class of the Maine Med
ical school.
* 'oiuiuis.sioiier llne llooth—
it i> not Evu was named after Long
telluw's heroine.
The mills and lactones established
in this country by the Salvation Army
give employment to 10,700 persons.
l.adv O'Hapan, widow of the late
lord chancellor of Ireland, has left the
Honian Catholic church and has adopted
the tenets of the Plymouth brethren.
During tiie absence, for three
months, of Hev. Mr. Cochrane, of the
I'nitarian church at liar llarlvor, Me.,
his wife will attend to all his ministerial
d ilties.
- -Cambridge university hits chosen as
subjects for the meinln-rs' prizes "The
Monroe Doctrine" for the Knglish essay
and for the ljitiu essay "A Defense or tm
Indictment of I.eander Jameson and His
Men."
—Dr. William Lyon Phelps, assistant
professor in English literature at \ale,
lias received nn offer to the head of th.l
department of English in the W. men's
college, Baltimore. It is ex|>ee'. • d that
he will decline, lie is regit;der one
of the most promising as.-..>t..iit | >ies
sors in the university, ami a stiimg ef
fort will be made to retain hiiu.
—A writer In London j>eriodteals some
40 years past states that nearly all the
English clergymen living between two
or three hundred years ogo wore the
mustache. In his list of those who
wore the Ward on the upper lip we find
the well-known names of John Donne,
George llerbert s# ltobert Derrick. Jer
emy Taylor, Thomas Fuller and Robert
South, the famous John linos, and the
celebrated John Bttnyan.
RUSSIAN NOBLES RUINED.
Despite Government Aid, Their Estate* Are
More und More ilea illy Mortgaged.
Mr. John Mitchell, British consul at
St. Petersburg, In the course of his tin
nua 1 report to lord Salisbury upon the
condition of the country, says: "Tfcn
years of strenuous support of a financial
character on the part of the govern
ment of the landlord class hns failed to
yield the desired results. The Nobility
Lend bonk has proved unequal to the
task of arresting the sure but gradual
decay of the class in question. Mort*
gagetl estates were repeatedly, by hun
dreds and even thousands, destined to
be dealt with by the auctioneer's ham
mer, but at the critical moment the
government has always intervened with
new acts of grace which postponed thfe
evil day.
"At the present time more than 100,-
000 estates, or 41 per cent, of the whole
area of the land owned by nobles, are
mortgaged to various government and
private laud credit institutions, and the
amount of money advanced on these es
tates has reached 1,269,000,000 rubles
( £ 126,500,000), of which sum 1,174,000,-
000 rubles (£ 117,200,000) still rcmaicfe
owing. In the course of the last
years (18S9-1594), the Indebtedness oi
landed estates to private land banks
increased over 84,000,000 rubles (£ 8,-
800,000), and these banks last year
reaped a profit of more thnn 7,500,000
rubles on these operation#.
"Of the enormous capital of the No
bility Land bank, exceeding £50,000,-
000, created by the government for the
I express purpose of making money ad
vances to landlords, but little has be£U
paid back, and but little improvement
has been made in the cultivation 01
estates. It is asserted by those well
acquainted with provincial life that the
millions advanced to the noble land
lord class have not been expended lit
the improvement of their estates, but
were spent on amusement, luxury, trav
els, payment of old debts and unprofit
able enterprises.
"One of the chief causes that threateu
the almost complete extinction of the
noble l&od-owning class is to be found
in absenteeism. The cultivation of land
unfortunately does not afford the nu
bility those attractions that are present
ed by life In towns and by careers in
various branches of the government
service, the latter being, moreover, ac
companied by the acquisition of rank
and social distinction."—N. Y. Herald.
Uooth's Message .Scratched ou Glia#.
On August 13, ISO 4, John Wilkes
Booth was playing a dramatic engage
ment in Meadville, To. Upon his arrival
in the city that day he registered at the
McHenry house, then kept by a Mr. It.
M. r. Taylor, and after the perform
ance in the evening retired alone to hla
room. When the servant entered hta
room the next morning, after Booth hart
left the hotel nnd city, an inscription
was discovered scratched In a large
hand on one of the window panes: "Abe
Lincoln dejmrted this life Aug. 13th,
1804, by the effects of poison." Little
attention was paid to the writing oti
the glass at the time; but as soon as
it was learned that Booth had killed tho
president the circumstances connected
with the window inscription were re
called, the glass was removed from its
sash, framed in a plain black wooden
frame, a piece of dark velvet being
placed at its baek to facilitate reading,
and the signature of Booth entered On
the register August 13 was cut from the
book and attached to the window glass.
The original pane is now in the posses
sion of the tvnr department, to which
it was presented by the daughter of the
owner of the hotel. Miss Mary McHenry,
some time after the assassination of the
president. All of the circumstances in
connection with the glass are certified
to by Miss McHenry and by other resi
dents of Meadville.—Victor Louis Ma
son, in Century.
A lighted Gun.
The shades of night are no longer a
protection to game from the powers of
the sportsman. An Knglish nimrod has
invented a luminous sight for use in a
bad light. A tiny incandescent lamp,
fed from a single storage battery con
cealed iu the gun stock, is mounted,
within a shield at the muzzle of the
gun, und a faint ray of light calculated
to indicate the position of its source is
exposed in the direction of the shooter's
eye, and this is sufficient to enable him
to obtain the required alignment with
the baek sight und with the target, be
it animate or inanimate. The special
application of the sight is for game
shooting at night anu for naval Serv
ice, such, for instance, as the illumina
tion of a machine gun used against tor
j>edo attacks during the night. Tor the
latter purpose it has been adopted in the
English navy.—X. Y. Journal.
A Draw.
An Irishman and a Yankee w ere ploy
ing the forfeit game of questions.
"How does the little ground squirrel
dig liis bole and show no dirt at the en
trance?" nsked the Irishman.
"Give it up," said the Yankee, at last.
"Sure, you see, he begins at the other
end of the hole," said Pat, triumphant
ly' • ,
"But how does beget there? queried
the Yankee.
"Ob, that's your question, answer It
yourself," said Put.—Harper's Bound
Table.
Accounted Fo»
"Kitty," he said tx> his wife, "you'ie
clever, but you can't touch my mother
at making lien ten biscuit."
"Of course not," she said; "the wom
an that brought you up had to have a
good fiat." —Chicago Record.