VOL. XXXIII : There's No Excuse N i For Suffering Now _ m < All \ou have to do is pi ► corne and make a se- L < lection from our ex- wl ► tensive line of ; TAN SHOES AND OXFORDS. [4 \ We've More different styles L . and qualities of Summer i Footwear than has ever k been shown in Butler. i ! PRICES ARE AW A* OFF. < You can make a selection. 4 rj Shoes SI.OO to $5 00. Ox- ? Lfl fords 50 cents to $3.00. J WJ All marvelously cheap. ODFF HON, I M 114 South Main Street Butler, Pa. T. M. BURTON My aim the past year was to give you the best quality of goods for the low est cash price. And to say least, my trade has been beyond all expectation. So if you wish to know what has caused it COME IN and you will soon be convinced that I am headquarters for good goods at lowest prices. T. H. BURTON 120 South Main Street Butler, Pa. ♦NOTICED FIRM*- I have taken into partnership, Mr. Edward J. Grohman, and the drug business will be conducted in the future under the firm name of Redick & Grohman. Mr. Grohman is no stranger in this community. He has been connected with our house for the past seven years, and it gives me pleasure to testify that he understands his business thoroughly. He is a graduate of the Pittsburg College of Pharmacy, is also a Registered Pharmacist. I take this opportunity to return thanks to a generous public for the liberal patronage extended to me for so many jears, and I hope to have a cmitinuance of the same as we are now better prepared to serve our patrons than ever before. Respectfully, J. C. REDICK. . . JL 1 - - » Summer nillinery AT Popular Prices! Children's Trimmed Hats at 50c, 75c, SI.OO. $1.25, $1.50, $2.00 and $2.50. Ladies Trimmed Hats at $1.50, $2.00, $2,50, $3.00 3.50, #4.00 and $5.00. Complete line of Sailors from the 50 <*cnt quality to the best grade Javas. ORDERS PROMPTLY FILLED. M. F. & M MARKS, 113 to 117 South Main Street, Butler, Pa. DIAMONDS I"™*'"" «"*"»• on A I UKNTB' <!OLI>, I .Al>! lis' (iOU>. WW VNNO r UKNTS HILVEK, LADIHS CHAFLAIN. Jti T*7 EL R V lUold1 Uold p,n ' 1, Kar Which. ** *• * I Chains, HracelelH. KI-o. »S TT.V PT n Ul/ A l«*l T ea N* ll -'- Castors. Butter Dishes anil KverytDlni ■ **** WW XX. X* M~r f Dial < HI, be IOUIKI in st tlrst c!a.>w store. HODGFI BROS. 1874 } KN,VK - S ' F, ' RKS SP, % N H S IPLK HIATH P PPIPR THE *—*' MlvlCyD, JEWELER. No. 139 North Main St, Butler, PP. +UTBT STYLI * IfST *6OOO WORK * MR pBICfS* that have enabl£<l n,C ' l ° I,uil,i l * a tailoring trade We have the most skillful, i«instakin K cutter; employ none but the verv best workmen, h.ndle nothing but the very best sods, Ixrth foreign and and guarantee you perfect satisfaction in each and every particular, and for all' this cLarge you simply a fair living profit. lnls , J. S. YOUNG, Tailor, Hatter and Men's Furnisher, 101 SfSy- °r t THE BUTLER CITIZEN. Biliousness I Is caused by torpid liver, which prevents diges | Uon and pern.in focxl to ferment and putr:!> m | the stomach. Then follow dizzino-s. liea.larhe. Hood's insommu, nervousness, and. p■ ■ 1! not ■ II A or blood poisoning. Hood's 111 Pills stimulate the stomach, rouse l llrer. cur" headache, dizziness, coc stipati-jii. etc JS c-nts. Sold l.y all druggists. The "ii> fills to Like with llood s Sarsaparill<i. C. L) D. !UWer- | iWear I |F@fets 1 8 rvT OO 5^ protection ex, fC ' ..... (V 'x ~ . 2S ' gj & ["*. T-S-ASJRFIMAW ? c<; F«r l -.c-ct fitting ' rvl M o 4«ra4 ■: price? £*> oo oj AH ?:> Jfxros Hygiewlc gg -v gg UE> tr&r. <SS All gradf* of rndcrwer at \ cry low prices. Largest stock of hats an-1 furnishings for gentleman ni t'u< country. An inspection will pro-, e this to any ones satisfacture. Colbert & Dale. 242 Jv Wail: St.. Puller, er: 1,000,000 People WlJ)ouglasSlioesi PROCESS. %JFc -WWQRLD. $5.00| >- x p3.00 HOO! f j ?2.50 $3.50 « V,! $2.00 $2.50 $1.75 $2.25 : '>■ P:r E'.;s For Men *" ¥ -' Wear W. I— *»» or« an 1 NHVO from • 1.00 to 83.00 it |ntlr. All Mai 4 H'ldlHk. 1.." •'a .ill.-i J.;*b lit. .. .«»Jll,f» price of 'ifh'"* »»».». -. L.Tt i t-l prif.M f W. ■*. #».<• mm* . USSTii - . 22 FOR SALE C. E MILLER, Sutler, Pa. All shoes sold by us are fully warranted no maUfcr what you p ty for -them, if you buy our shoes 1. SI.OO or $4.00 we see that you get full value for your money, no other house in Butler take-.-, a good care of their customeis a: we do, that is why our store i becoming so popular and we arc making new friends every day HI! Oil! ItUil Our only fault, if yon can c.ili it a lault, is trying to show a bet ter line of shoes at lower price: than our neighbors, and if we tr to judge from our increasing sales our efforts are meeting with suc cess. ta Prices Jell He Storv V Ladies' fine serge slippers.... 25c " " gaiters 45c opera toe slippers.... 50c kid shoes, button or lace $ 1.00 Ladies fine tan oxfords 75c " fine tan shoes. .$1.25 to $5 Mens working shoes 90c Mens buff congress or bals. . $ 1.00 Boys fine buff bals SI.OO New Bicycle Shoes, New Tennis Shoes, New Tan Shoes, New Canvass Shoes, AT Butler's Progressive Shoe House. 2i5 South Main St., BUTLER PA C. E. MILLER, REP/;RINQ PROMPTLY Do\li. S3 The Place to GAS COOK ING AND HEATINGSTOVKS, GAS BURNERS AND FIX TURES, HOSE, BATH TUBS, ENAMEL AND IMPROVH) WELSH GAS BURNER, W.RO'BRISM ON 107 East Jefferson St. jiUTLKR. PA..THURSDAY. JUNE 18, 189 G. _V ' " 0V WItiUIHIVI T. fIICHOUS. y n ,8< "- fcy J B Llf f' nte,t ton-pwy- XII. Hiram Jones, "rump, farm laborer, busybody, detcct:ve, or whatever he might be. furnished for a ni'.atli my principal cause for anxiety. Lamar's Indifference to the man's doings was more than 1 oould explain tn my own satisfaction; for, if the owner of the house on the knoll had reason to feaa uny great peril, how was it that he could hear so calmly tidings which in dicated at least that he was under sur veillance? It was as if a wily old fox,- after a long run from the hunter, should sit contentedly watching ft stray hound circling übout him. imstead of retreating post-haste out of danger. There was certainly the argument that I amar slioul 1 know very well the jmr tictilar point from which he was men aced, and the character of the agent* likely to be employed against him: but I couid not find it oonvinciug. Greatly as I disliked him, his apathy fretted me. Kveil enemies, when fate makes them fKirtj.er-. can <*■ ricl aHy be counted upon to coojierate to win the game. Now, here was I, quite ready to do my best to beat our mys terious opponents, yet hanii»er<d, or at least discouraged, by the indiffer ence of the player whose stakes were hazarded upon the result. The situ ra tion seemed to be entirely false. If Jones was a spy, I in turn diligent ly played the spy him. No time w a<- lost in confirming his identity with that of the man who had a roused Car ]/enter's suspicions, a result easily ac complished by bringing the horse-deal er on a pretemded errand to Kodnev"*- town oud having Jones at work near the house as he drove by. After this preliminary, I devoted many hours to watching Mrs. Weston's retainer, with out getting much reward for my pains. The man went about his various tasks in the most matter-of-fact fashion, ap parently concerned in nothing beyond them. I had expected that as noon as he learned of my dally visits to the house 011 the, knoll he would attempt to question me alxiut its occupant; but not once did he display interest in my hermit patient. 111 th«' only new giound given for my suspicions was furnished by a habit he developed of solitary strolls about the neighborhood when evening put an end to his work on the farm. A little if his groffnea; had worn off, and, barring this liking for lonely rambles, there was nothing .to distinguish him from the otheT la borej-s of the vicinity. Lamar listened patiently to the reports of my observn lions, which appeared to increase hifi belief that there was no cause foe- im mediate alarm, though he still neglect ed to give the reasons for his convic tion. It may be that, undisturbed an he was In his own mind, he was satis fied to have me maintain vigilance. •After all, It was not to I>e denied that standing guard wo*; partof the business for which he paid me. T)..« ♦lif ~»/*▼»♦ v, iviw f« plonsar.t one. except for Jones and the worries he created. Mrs. Loring was doing sur prisingly well. Nobody could have ex - ! pected her to regard herself ay any thing but a confirmed invalid, buf with increasing frequency she was enjoying intervals of oblivion to the fact that she supposed herself to be a sufferer. Fhe took her harmless doses with clock work regularity, and there was not one of the. directions given hex which was not carried out with scientific accuracy. Simple food, good air, undisturbed sleep, and trifles enough to keep her Interested were doing for her wliat they will do for most of the. race. Two or three additions hail been made to her code of directions, with not altogether unselfish motives on the part of her medical adviser. For one tiling, she now kept a diary, in which she wrote her observations of her symptoms. Os tensibly, this v<ias to secure, for sci entific purposes, a record of tlu- prog ress of a most notable case; actually, ;it was to savo her doctor from a daily flood of talk. Then, too, she had been persuaded that it wars not wise to have l«er niece constantly with her, the the ory followed being that Miss Gray had been so long liej- nurse that their con tinual association could not but remind her of her impaired health. This bit of sophistry was far more, convincing to the ekler woman than to the young er, who, though she acquiesced in the arrangement, left mo no doubt tliat she regarded the argument as falla cious. Inasmuch, however, as through it I secured a great, deal more of her society, I was content, my object thus accomplished. Moreover, to this day it seems clear to me that in forcing Mrs. Loring to throw off somewhat of her acquired feeling of helplessness, and to learn that she was not entirely dependent 011 her companion's minis trations, I did her a great service. So far as tho girl was concerned, there could be no question of the benefit she received from the lessening of her hours of attendance upon her aunt. No calling, as we all know, is more no ble, more self-sacrificing, than that of the nurse; in none is there greater need of reasonable relaxation from the de mands upon body, mind aud spirit; and never is devotion more sadly misapplied than In those cases In whieh the tribute to supposed duty and real affection is paid needlessly or In obedience to an other's over-indulged caprice. The light of common sense should be strong enough to show the flaw of usclessness in many a picture of uncomplaining martyrdom. As events proved, the country life was much to Mrs. Boring's taste, in spite of her years of travel und her long sojourns in great cities. She struck up friendships with Mrs. Clark, Mrs. Weston and the other housewives of the neighborhood, and, through them, with the residents of liodney town villnge, among whom she gained considerable popularity. She became a regular attendant at the village church, anil soon was received into the circle of its sewing society. At these things I marveled anil rejoiced, know ing- very well that heir new friends could do more to promote her recovery than all the drugs in the pharmaco peia. Seven days in a week, gossip was better for her than tonics. It was almost inevitable, in the cir cumstances, that I should be honored often with Dorothy Gray's company. Irfing drives together over the winding country road*, walks to the show spots of the vicinity, and rambles when the moon was doing her ls-st to make man kind believe that nothing lu the world was worth considering but sentiment., such pleasing diversions filled many an hour. Sometimes I paused to con sider how completely the trirl vvasdom iiiuiuiK inv tJiaugnu-s i.ven when a glimpse of Hiram Jones going stolidly about his businetss reminded me of the uncertainty of my position, I found myself speculating more about what she mitrht think, if the worst came to pass, than about the extent of tfce. mis fortune over Lamar's head, and possi bly over mine as well. On shipyard wo had been very good friends, she and: 1. We were very good friends now, but with a difference. What a dull ride I had if she declined to aeeorn l>any me! how the evening dragged if she "kept out of sight! what u wretched sul*titute for her presence, was even the best pipe in my growing collec tion! How was it that when we were together, even if our talk languished, the iime never passed heavily? How had it con> about that I uo longer de bated the question of her lieauty, 110 longer compared her with r :s girl or that? Such ouestions I asked myself now and then, puzzling my brain with e idcavors to answer them in any other way than the one in which they could be. answered. The simple truth of the matter was, of course, that 1 had fallen in love; but for difficulty of compre hension commend me. above all things, to u so-called simple truth. Anybody, if he will take the trouble, can follow out a long and logical deduction, but to very few men is it given to perceive at once the meaning at the thing which, once understood, we cull self-evident. From the vantage-point of later yearn I have figured out, to my own satisfac tion nt least, that I passed from the comparatively placid state of friend ship about two weeks after Dorothy Gray's arrival in liodneytown. The realization of the change came nearly u fortnight later, not through any tri umph of reason, but through au acci dent in which my part was that of •> mere spectator, and which required less time in action than it does in telling. Beturning one morning from the house on the knoll, 1 sought the young lady, as I usually sought her at that hour. Dr. Banks had imked me to look out for two or three of his more distant patients—he had sprained his right arm badly and was keeping a« quiet as possible—and that day I had planned a long drive, which it was probable she. would enjoy. She was not in the house, Mrs. Clark said, and I was gazing about rather disconsolately, when I caught sight of u parasol showing above the wal's of a lane leading to an orchard, in the shado of which Miss Gray soine ■ time's passed a morning. Setting out in pursuit, I gained upon her so rapidly that when I turned into'the lane she ■ was not more than a hundred yards ! in the lead. To my surprise, she halted, | then turned with a cry, and, picking up 1 her skirts, began to scud toward nic, in full flight, as I saw an instant later, from an old and evil-tempered boar, usually safely penned behind Mrs. Clark's barn, but evidently very much at liberty at that particular- moment. | The brute was close to her. His tusk? j lovkwl un luug oliai-p as knives; as | he galloped on, they came nearer and ■ nearer to his prey. I gave a shout and ! sprung forward,buthad she been forced I to depend upon my aid her danger j would have been great indeed, for long before I could have reached her the boar would have overtaken her. He was right at her heels, when, armed k flilvf I (fate a fhoat and fprang forward. with a stout club, Jones sprang over the wall and struck viciously at the brute. The blow fell ftdrly upon the animal's SDOut, and ended abruptly kis pursuit of the maiden, who, however, sped on until she ran almost into my arms. I got her hands in mine and took some time to assure her that she was safe, before con ing down mere detail that the farm-hand had been her rescuer. She turned* to thank the man, but by this time he was sonic distance up the lane, driving the cowed und grunting boar back to his prison. "I envy that fellow," said I. "I'd give suiy tiling to have had that chance he improved." "Would you?" said she, with a nerv ous little smile. "It was u dangerous privilege. Ugh!" and she shuddered at the recollection. "What a terribla animal that was! I never was so fright ened in all my life." "Let us go back to the house," 1 sug gested. "You will hardly enjoy a vis it to the orchard after such an adven ture." "No, indeed," she said. "Aft r this I sha'L 1M- more careful. 1 have learned something from this experience." "And so have I," was my thought, for In that moment of lu-r peril the veil of doubts and questions and theory's ar. ! speculations had been torn from my eyes, and I had learned tlu simple tru'li which explained them all, yet which they had served to hide from me. XIIL "Sakea alive! what's keepin that Hiram?" There could l»o uo mistaking that voice, which |<eiictrat«-d my oflice, though the speak'-r was out of sight. It was not a voice of smooth tones ami delicate inflections, yet it was attrn.- th e in 11 homely, everyday sort of way, therein resembling its owner. Now ami then it grew sharp, when 1 ircum stances were particularly trying, but it never suggested nagging. At this particular moment then; wns in it a note of anxiety, which roused me from a pleasant after-dinner half dozo to t.lirow up a window and send a glance toward the gate, where Mrs. Weston stood, shading her eyes with her hand, the better to ]wer down the loud. "What's the trouble?" I sang out to hor. "That Hiram ouphter bc-n ' back hours apo," said she. "What caa ' he be a doin* of, anyhow ?" '"Wltere did you send him?" "Down to the beuch with the U-UJII. after n load of gravt-1." "Perhaps he's been It's ' iKfwlble, if he didnt kcephlseyes ojK'n. Just where did you bid hin f r o?*' "I told hira the place waa the : South Cove, but he might fiud some i good 'nough at a pinch near Jol nson's. I Whichever place he went, be oughteiJbe ( back. I want to see him pnrtie'lar t'is ' afteirnoon." "So do I. If he turns up in the next half-hour, please let me know of it." "Yes, Indeed, doctor, I'll be to," she answered; nnd after a parting sur vey of the neighborhood, she reentered I the bouse. It was the. afternoon fol- I lowing the day on which Jones had ' rorne to the aid of Miss Gray in such | timely fashion, but neither she nor I • had yet succeeded in getting an oppoi - ! tunity to thank fc'm for his assistance. ■ Both of us were anxious to prove our I gratitude, and Dorothy, as I knew, had j decided to give him a token of it in the shape of a trinket, a quaintly carved I watch charm, which she had picked up I in one of her trips abroad. All things considered, it was rather a curious 1 choice sbe hud luwle, although th j thing was sufficiently pretty to appeal ! to the untrained instincts of the l>oor I she had every reason to suppose him to | lie. So far as I was concerned, the ; question wis more puzzling, but I 1 had determined to olTer him money. ' Whether he would accept it was doubt i ful. but, ut any rate, the proffer might ! be made, with the alternative idea of ! picking out some present lifter on which would meet his approval in case ! he declined the cash. The half-hour passed with no tid ings of the missing man. After an other fruitless survey of the road, Mrs. Weston, dolefully shuking her head, vanished again, after once more In forming me that his prolonged absence was wholly inexplicable. Presently one of her sons brought my horse and carriage to the door, anil, somewhat reluctantly, I f >rsook the cool quiet of the office to Vx - .11 the drive to the house of one of the patients whom I was attending during Mr. Banks' convales cence from his injury. Miss Gray was reading in the shade of the poroh of the house over the way, and, in hopes of persuading her to join me, I crossed the road and went up to lier. "lteally, I should be delighted, but I've promised my aunt to see her safe ly off," said she, in response to my In vitation. "You know she is to take tea in the village, and her hostess is to sent for her I don't know at just what hour." "Oh, then there's no hope for me," said I, grumpily. "However, I shall be back in an hour or two. I'm expect ing Dr. Banks to call for my rejiort of the case, and he may appear before my return. If he does, will you kindly ask him to wait for me? Then, too, If Jones condescends to drive up with his load of gravel, and you happen to speak to him, please be so good as to tell him that I should like to see him." "If you care to w ait a little," she an ew ered, "we may interview him to gether. The team is In sight now." Looking along the track toward the house of the knoll, 1 saw Mrs. Weston's horses jogging homeward at u trot, which indicated that the wagon they drew could not be loaded very heavily. "Where's the driver?" Miss Gray asked. "Do you see him?" "No, I don't," raid I. "Quiet as the t« .1.111 V>, it uiu&t have (rot away from hira." One of the boys ran up to the ap proaching horses and stopped them. We could see him pick up the reins from the ground, examine the wagon, and climb to the seat. By the time he drove up to us Mrs. Weston, Mrs. Clark, and one or two others had joined the group, and Mrs. Loring, who looked down from the window of her room. "Dorothy! Dorothy!" she called out, "toll roe, tell me, has anything hap pened? anything terrible? Where, oh, where is the man? Is he dead? Is he killed ? Oh, Dorothy, I'm sure he must, be!" "Don't be alarmed, Mrs. Loring," said I, saving her niece the trouble of ex plaining that nobody knew more alx»ut tins matter than she did. "Tho horses have probably started for home while Jones' eye was off them. No doubt he'll lie along in an hour or so." She tried to ask more questions, but no one took the time to answer them. All of us were busily inspecting the wagon and its steeds. The convey ance was loaded to perhaps a quarter of its capacity. One of the movable side boards was gone, but that was the limit of damage. "It's all plain enough," said I. "The horses became homesick and trotted off, very possibly while Jones, not sat isfied with the gravel he hnd found, was prospecting for better. ITe'll be here in time for supper, with a splendid appetite from his tramp." "I guess that's about it," said Mrs. Weston, with a sigh of relief. "But it's queer, I must say. Might as well count It a day wasted." "Which Is a sin—ln New England," I whispered to Miss Gray. "Coino, now, can't you change your mind?" She smiled and shook her head. Climbing into the buggy, I drove off, wishing her aunt's teas u.nd social ob servances in Tophet,and trying to resign myself to a dull afternoon. Tho bay appeared to l>e unusually slothful, but I let him choose his own pace, and away we dawdled toward our destination. The sufferer proved to be convalescing satisfactorily, but the doctor's visit was au event of importance, and half an hour passed before 1 could get away from the ► tele room. Then came a slow progress back to the Weston residence. As I drove up to it. Miss Gray emerged from my office, caught sight of me. and called to some one within. A moment later Dr. Banks followed her, nnd hur ried out to the road. "For God's sake, Morris, come in as quick as you can," he cried. "There's been a terrible piece of business." I'.eassircd as to Dorothy Gray V safety by the sight of her, and therefore ready to deal courageously with tli ■ misfor tune of ."nybody elae, In: .ng to tho ground lud followed Banl. i into the of fice. There on a lounge lay Jones, his face ashen pale, hfs eyes closed, and great beads of sweat on his forehead; his breathing was heavy anil sterto rous, and broken by low moans. His right l>oot and the leg of his trousers had been cut away, revealing the limb crushed from the knee down into a terrible wreck of bone ajid muscle, with a judged fragment of the tibia j>ro trudlng from the skin. Banks' eyea caught mine for an in stant; both of us read tlie meaning of the look we exchanged. "No alternative," sold he. "The sooner the better," I added. Tlu; senior glanced at his disabled arm. "This puts me out of it," snid he, "except us I may manage to administer the anaesthetic. Have vou ever con ducted such an operation I" "Never. I saw plenty of tlu; sort in my student days, but since then—well, I've never j ire tended to bo a surgeon, 'you understand." "Nor, U> tell the truth, have I, in fact, I've always»hatej to tee the knife used. But there's no question here." "Let us send to F. . .nclville for Fow ler. I've heard he's a clever o|>erutor." "Ho is: the idea had already sug gested itseU to uw. But it w.Il aiean , four or live hours —perhajw more. And whom shall we send? I'm too crippled to be of auy use. and you ought to stay | hi. "Aiy ho. - ready," said I. "Now for a ines:.eiigv .. "Why not let me go?' 1 s..- . <1 Doro thy Gray. She had been standing behind us so quietly that we had forgotten heT ! presence. "1 know the road," she went i on, "and I think I cau manage the horse ! without trouble." "The very person," cried Banks, be fore I could utter an objection. "Miss Gray under.-rands the circumstances better than any of us. If we send n boy he'll muddle the story so that Fowler won't bo able to make head or I tail of It." "But—" I IK gan. "Now, Dr. Morris, please don't ob ject," she broke in. "There is not the ghost of a reason why I should not go. I realize what Dr. Fowler is to do, the operation he will have to perform. I'm not a bit afrald'of the horse. Besides, as Dr. Banks taj s, there must be no delay; every moment 1s precious, j Please let me start at once." "1 don't, like the idea," 1 pro tested, j but rather feebly in the face of her en , treaty. It hail ccme, bv this time, to be ii«4id to deny her anything. "After his timely assistance to me," she. went on, "it is aply fair that I should be allowed to reciprocate, to do soma little thing to prove my grati tude." "Very well, go, then," said I,shortly; but in the heart of me there was 11 vague feeling of relief that she should so soon repay her f I.ligations to the man from whom I certainly had no good to expect: it was better for them to be quits as speedily as possible. "She will round out a useful day by bringing Fowler here," said Dr. Banks, as we stood watching her hurry off her hat and gloves. "Did you know that it was she who found him?" "No," I answered. "How did it hup pen?" "Her aunt, it seems, must have been a good deal worried about the man's failure to return with his team, and to ease l>er mind Ml .s Gray promised to keep a lookout for him. At last. Mrs. Loring had to start for the village, but meantime Miss Gray had caught some of her aunt's fears, and, as soon as she was free, off she started on a hunt of her own. She followed the wagon tracks almost to the house of that lone some patient of yours, Morris. Then the trail tinned to the southward, al most skirting the edge of the bog. It was a queer route to pick out for haul ing a heavy load, und soon she had cause to believe that Jones had found the road rough, for in one place, she saw a heap of gravel which undoubtedly had been dumped out of the wagon in some way. The ground thereabouts is very low- —a sort of hollow, in fact —nnd in the depression she found herself out of sight of this house. In the other di rection she could get a glimpse of your patient's dwell'; -. but nobody seemed to l>e stirring auout the place. Not many yards beyond The gravel she dis covered Jones, lying unconscious on the ground, with the ruts showing where the wheels of the wagon had passed over his leg. He came to a bit, after she reached him, and she was able to make out that he hiul slipped under the wheels, and had In-en so badly hurt that he was unable to move, and was forced to lie there anil watch his horses wander away from him, and finally, striking the path in this direction, turn into it and trot off homeward. "Miss Gray tried to get assistance from your patient's; but. though she beat with all her might upon the door, "no answer came from the house. Then. In despair, she came here. Luckily, I happened along just then. We got out a spring-wagon and brought Jones In — Miss Gray accompanying us and help ing like the true woman she is, hardly faltering once, though you can im agine the job it was to lift him off the ground and into the wagon. Well, he's been in your office for the last half hour, and what little can be done, for him has been done. It's a fearful injury he has. I never saw such a mass of fractured bones and torn flesh. Ampu tation is the only hope to save his life." "What do you consider his chance Is?" I asked. The old doctor shook his head doubt fully. "He's young, and ought to have a fine constitution," he said, "but it will lie a close thing for him, a very close thing, I'm afraid." Dorothy came running up to us. I assisted her into the buggy. . "Don't use the whip; he'll go well enough without It," I counseled her. "Remember, he's hard-mouthed, and jL ''' "TOD are trusting KI me," she eald. that if you get him waked up too thoroughly you'll have trouble holding him." "I shall remember," she said, with a smile, and then she added, in a voice so 10-w that Banks could not he:ir her words: "I am very, very grateful to you. You are trusting in me, and you shall not be disappointed." pro BB CONTIXUKP.J No Halt In tho Air. M. E. Chulx, wishing to find out whether in calm weather the air of the seashore contains an appreciable quan tity of sea salt,made several experiments in Jersey, in August, 1895. In each ex periment he caused, by means of an aspirator, 1,000 liters (So cubic feet) of air to pass through .1 solution of silver nitrate In every case there was not the least cloudiness of tin- solution, prov ing that the air contained no salt. This j is not at all surprising, for it is well known that the air contains salt only < when the wind carries off Milt spray held , mechanically in susjH-nsion, and derived , from the wave crests; the salt of sea f water connot evaporate into the at mosphere. The evident conclusion is f that, to obtain the beneficial action of sea air, we must go where the air is sufficiently agitated by the wind tocon tinually hold the sea water In suspen- ! slon. Such localities arc infinitely more beneficial aud active.—ltevue Helen- j tifltiue. CASTLES. There'.-" s building boom In Nowhere land- TVs the one that comev. each y«ar. When the spring Is new And th« skies grow blue And the »iul'i wind wh!-p»r» <~he<r W Ith Fancy a* architect we've planned (Hi* charges are small but falr> Improvements great For eech vast estate And our castle's In the alx It's only a minute we ne<-d tone* The minarets and towers In beauty rise 'Neath our very eye* And those treasures all art- ours. Yuur likes ma> be fickle and strange and free. Kor easily you repair 1 The wreck that falls j When the old charm pall* ■ In your castles In the- air. When the golden rivers of twilight str.rt ! And the scarlet son sinks low. It's a Journey slight To that land of light Where the maybe blossoms biow, | And It's only me trland with the honest heart | Who has followed through 111 and fair Who can be your guest Aj you dr r aui ami rest in your oastlu In the ulr. —Washington Star TRANSPLANTED. It w as the biggest ball of the season, and the assembly room of the fashion able w uterlng place w as looking its gay est and brightest, thanks to lavish dec oration and the kaleidosooplc effect pro duced by the throngs of brilliantly dressed dancers as they whirled round in ail the infinite variety and pictur esque Incongruity of fancy costume. And yet, despite all the life and color, there was something fictitious and un real in the brilliant gayety of the pic turesque scene; just as there wus ail undertone of passionate pain in the sweet music of the vulse which rung through the room, an undertone which seemed strangely out of harmony with the superficial enjoy ment of the crowd. Or was It only the look in a girl's face that w as out of keeping, aDd seemed at once to give the lie to all the hollow pre tense of pleasure around her? To one unobserved spectator this idea sudden ly occurred with the force of a convic tion. It was a beautiful face, beautiful alike in regularity of feature and exquisite delicacy of coloring. But the smile on the sweet mouth was forced and full of unnatural guyet.y, while the great gray j eyes had a haunting look of weariness which gave them an indescribable pathos. The girl was tall and slight, and the white dress she wore, graceful though it was, seemed almost 'oo rich aud elaborate for her slender figure. She was young —scarcely one-and-twen ty and looked even younger than her years; and the man who was watching her drew yet further back into the shadow of the heavily curtained door way as a flood of memories rushed over him —memories held in check till now by an iron will, but released In a mo ment by the sight of the beautiful, sad face that was all the world to him, though for four long years it had passed out of his life. How he had missed her! Surely he had never fully realized it till now. A chance remark arrested bis atten tion. Two men near were talking to gether, commenting audibly enough on the scene before them. "How charming Maud Carruthers is looking to-night! That girl grows prettier every time I see her!" "Is it true that she's engaged to young Melbourne?" "Want« confirmation, 1 should say. lie's hard hit, and her jieopie approve of him naturally; he's well connected and fabulously wealthy; but as to the fair Muud herself—if she is engaged to him she might look a little more cheerful over it." "Yes, I shouldn't feel flattered in his place," the younger man assented. "She's not a bit like the other girls one meets about; don't know why, but she seems out of it some how." "Well, her story is rather an odd one. you know." "But I don't know more. Where docs the oddneßs come in? Her people ara conventional enough." "Yes; but she never sow them till she was 16 or 17; for her mother mar ried beneath her, and was cut in con sequence. The marriage turned out badly, 1 believe, and Mrs. Carruthers died in Australia, where the child was brought up by the people with whom she staying at the time; rather a rough and ready bringing up, I fancy." "Then how does she. come to IMS hero, and forgiven?" "Oh, it all came out somehow; Car ruthers died, and then inquiries were imule as to the child's whereabouts, and she was transplanted over here; rather a change from her experience* in the bush." "An agreeable one, I should think." "H'ln, that dejiends on how you look ot It! Now, from her jsiiiit of view we may be a little tnmc uud common place. 1 don't know unything übout it mind you, but it's Just possible she inuy prefer primitive nature to our enervating and overdone nineteenth century civilization. To my mind the girl looks bored." "Then if she marries Melbourne—" "it will merely be to escape from ! the present jswition. Since her grand father's death a year ago, she has found It more wearisome than ever, or I'm much mistaken. She.was really fond of poor old Draycourt, but for the rest of theni—'Pon my soul, I'm sorry for the girl!" The music ceased, and the speaker* moved away and the long procession of dancers began to pace out into the cooler air of the long, flower-decked corridor. Hut the mun near them still kept his place in the deep shadow of the our talns, and watched, with eager eyes, to sec that tall, white-robed figure through the doorway. liut he watched in vain. He had lost sight of her just before the dunce end ed, iuul she had no doubt left the ball room by some other door. From the station he had chosen he could com mand the whole room, and he soon saw that Maud Carruthers wos no longer there. Aud to-night he held every moment wasted in which she was out cf sight .For the last time —it wan for the last /time —and already the precious mo ments were slipping rapidly nway! He must find her again, even though in order to do so lie must risk discovery uud recognition. Little risk that she would recognize him after four years, and in such wide Jy different surroundings! His dress, too, with Its heavy clonk and bronf! somber hat, would surely be a sufficient disguise if she should stifl chance to retain slight recoiled ion Of her old friend and would-be brbtlier; the man under whose roof ull her happy child hood had been (Missed. And even if she did know him, what then? lie was surely enable of keeping his secret still, as he had kept It in the old days. She was little likely to guess it now in all tie pride of her trium phant youth and beauty; now when so many younger, richer men were at her feet. Oh, he knew hi* place! And he smiled grimly to him self. Hud not ber self ootuvluoent rcla TS"o. 25 • ions been cureful to point it out to him -nnwt con -iderately, no doubt'—four y.ars ;tgo? Certain!v, there was little liki'lihooi] of his forgetting now. No, there could be uo real risk in the ing should they chance to meet. No possible risk for her, sfKl for himself— he would gladly give the ten best ysara rf his life just to hear her voice again; Just to meet her gray eye* once mora with t.he old frank smile in them that he knew so welL No possible risk—no; he had I wen a fool and coward ever to think of it; and his resolution to keep out of her way—the resolution that he hod thought so wis*' wid so good —w an entirely foolish and unnecessary. She need never know the reason of Ills brief \isit "home." Why should not he have business in England as well as another man; and how- should shs suo j>ei't the mad desire to see her face to face once more that had brought him from the other side of the world? Thus thinking—lf. indeed, the rapid j-t.rc.mi of recollections, suggestions and reassuring convictions that rushed through his mind could rightly be dig nified with the name of thought h« strode boldly out into thf rcidor; a noticeable figure enough fr..u. his ci-m --mantling stature. and ginud '• r.idth of shoulder. Many ev< c folio'. - I him aa He passed between the b<uik> >t llo«< rs with which the wide corrldr; was lined on eithir side, and muny were the pec ulations as to who he was. and why ne was at the ball; since he spoke to no one, and nobody seamed to know him. But h«- jiassed on, ui.conscious alike oi admiring eyes and fruitless specula tion. Meantime Maud hod suffered her partner to lead her to a wide window seat at the farther end of the oorridor from that where her old friend wa» seeking her. The girl's face looked strangely pale now that the flus& dancing brought to it had died away; and there w»s an expression of something very like despair in her wide gray eyes as she listened to her com panion's eager word*. "You know you promised me my answer to-night, Mnud, and we mayn't have such u chance again. Xo one has found out this corner yet; but it won't escape the observation of the crowd long. I've waited patiently,and haven't bothered you a bit, and now —at last—* time's up. You won't ask me to wait any longer?" A look of sudden dis may clouded the boyish brightness of hiß face as he spokfe, but only for a mo ment, "No, I won't wsk you to wait any longer;" the girl's words came slowly, and with an evident effort; "but—why do you want me to say yes, when you know that I don't care for you? No, hear me out," as he would have inter rupted her. "I like, you, but I don't care for you in that way, and I never shall." "Cut you will, Maud; you must when you see how awfully fond I—" "No, I never shall, I know. If you insist on marrying me, you shall at least do it with your eyes open, Mr, Melbourne." "Oh, don't s(ienk to me like that I" "Ilut 1 feel to you like that, and I must speak as I feel. Feel!" with swift self-scorn. "What have I to do with feeling at all? If I marry you it will be to escape from my present life; to get away from mynelf—from the ever lasting, purposeless round of dance« and dinners. I have told you this be fore." "Yes, and I have told you that I love you." "And yet jou don't hesitate?" "For myself, no." lie wns silent a moment, a look of moist unusual inde cision on his face. "But you put things qlfferently to-night," he said, at length, "You say you know yon shall never care for me. I don't see how you can know that unless —" "Unless —?" she faced him bravely, though a sudden flush Bhowed she al ready grasped his meaning. "You care for some one el*;," lie said, very deliberately. "Do you, Maud?" Did she? For a moment lie thought she was go ing to break into indignant denials, they all at once her face softened and changed, and the light of a wonderful joy Hashed into it an she sprang to her feet, exclaiming: "Deuzil! At la»t[" Young Melbourne turned in uui-nt, Who was this stately-looking man that Maud should go to meet him with outstretched hands of welcome and brilliant, rapturous smile? No mutter who he was, the boy felt that his question wns answered, lio took his dismissal quietly, and left them without a word; nor did anyone see Uim again that night. And Deuzil? ; At the sight of Maud's eager and sweet, we.ll-renicmbcred smile, he forgot ail bis stern resolutions and carefully-cultivated convictions. He hud never even dreamed of the possi bility of such a meeting as this, and the glad recognition that rang in her voice fairly swept hiiu off his feet, strong, self-contained man though he was. For she loved him; he saw it In her eyes, heard it in h'ir voice, knew it at last—astonishing, well-nigh impossible fact though it WHS; and this being so, nothing could come between them; no proud, disdainful relations could ]>art them any more, and when Deuzil Clas ton returned to Australia after liie brief visit was over, his wife accom panied him, and great was the wrath and Indignation among the Draycoui is, who had tried so hard to make her in ivll respects one with themselves, only to fail so signally at the last! But Maud wan happy, and onoe book again among Dcnzll's people, arid ull the congenial associations of the pttsN she soon regained the bright serenity and sunny sweetneßs of nature which she had well-nigh lost In that alien land, to which unkind fate, end Denrd'e stern sense of duty, had for a time transplanted her.—Household Wordrt. Kculf Next Time. There s«'ms to be an occasional slight misunderstanding as to the nature of the aurora. Certain people have, in deed, regarded it as a fixed appearances as regular in it* course as the sun aud moon. When a beautiful display took plooe, not long since, a oertaio lady wan asked next morning If ehe had seen it. "No," said she in an aggrieved tone. "Did you? M "Oh, yea, we watched it for u long time." "And I saw you that vary afternoon, and you didn't U-ll me there was golnf. to be ono." Of a more cheerful and contented nature was another lady who was in l'arls during n fine appearance of tM "northern lights." "Did you see the aurora last nlghtf*- asked a friend. "No; I didn't know there was one." "Oh, yes; it wa* perfectly beautifuV You ought to have been out watching ife as we wore." "Well, I'm sorry," quoth she, "bull never mind. I'll see ft to-night!"-* Youth's Companion. —The Arabian and African BedooUU% when suffering the jinnjrs of hung«r and, having nothing wherovith to satisfy the craving of appetite, draw their belts tightly to compress the stomach, and thus sutfer less inconvenience.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers