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.