VOL* xxxv
{ Mrs. J. E. ZTMMERMAN.
' + -i•+.+ !» •;*
FOR AUGUST
i
I
We have dec'ded to allow July C!ea ance Sale prices
to remain oa LADIES READY-TO-W^«R SUITS, SHIRT
WAISTS, WF.APPIRS AND MUSLIN UN3SRW2AR during
this month; a!so o x all SU-aIHIS L I LINJLRY. We are de
termined to clear all "h'si Bcpsr!:r c of Sunaiei Goods
before the arrival oi' Fall and Wintrr Wear, if Price will
move them. We h?vc no': spared the knife—still further cuts
all through these Departments.
New fan J*! 6SS biuuiiS cUiu shks.
We have received our first shipment of new styles in
Dress Goods for *he season of 1C92-29, consisting of llegpnt
Black Creponz, Covert Cloth, Pov-lm and Gran t."; Clo hs; also
a beau'jiful seleei'on of Fancy Sil :s in the new Fall Designs
for the stylish silk waist every lady now has
in her wardrobe. For those who co-iem lite a late summer
trip, or are gett' g ready to go away to r choo", we have what
Sou need—a fail line of N„.W IUR COLLARLTTES. Ail
ew Fall and Winter Designs.
MRS J E. ZIMiIEMN.
i
< HE IS A WISE HAN \
H € —WHO SECURES HIS CLOTHING FROM -
I 1
$ J.S. YOUNG,
f THE MEItCHAXT TAILOR, #
# f
# # :
Tim goods, style, lit and general make a
\ up of liis suits 5
\ TELL their own STGF(Y. \
" - jf '' ■ I
! , / A \ $ Men won't buy clothing for tic purpose!
s «i l / 1 '& of spending money. 'i'he> desire to get the
I A J V J. besi iksfcible refills for the money expend*
•' N ;f /J U) ed. Not cheap goods hut goods as cheap as
* s'< j _(E I —~*l >(n they can he fold a .id made up propeily- If
I ! ' \ ' \l I— -J" y! >'<»u want the correct thing at tlie correct
\L/ "7 ftprice call on us, we nave teduced our spring
i / -- » ai d SLUIU: r goods down to make room for
| j \ 1 l ' ur ljei * v y Wt'gf't goods,
;£ . - • 'ii 'l* I Fits Guaranteed.
. • u » * i I ii 4
[ f 1 IX 1 Merchant Tailor,
r . IV©CKf 142 V. Main St., Butler
|
The New Cambridge,
*
Formerly New Cambiidge House.)
CAMBRIDGE SPRINGS, PA.,
Wircb, after the d : sastrous fir •of a icar aj;o, is now opened in
la'ger and bt iter shape for the accotrniodation of guests in search
of ueallh and pleasure, presents itself to its former butler patrons
as tlie most -Je.sir.ible hotel in which to locate when at Cambridge
Springs. Krer bus to and from all train* ?nd springs. Public
• rooms ore of large size and well lighted, including office, dining
room, bath rooms, billiard room a.id howling a ley. Chamber*
wi b private baths and toilets and everything tiiat tends to make a
home-like and comfortable resort, '-.r rate. apply to
HAGGERTY & WHITE, Proprietors. ** Cambridge Springs. Pa.
;
iPape sros,
JEWEIa€RS.
We Will Save You Money On
; Si!;e. Aare, 1347 Redder Bros. I
Plaieware and Sterling Silver^
< Goods. <
Our Repair Department takes ill all kinds of Watches, Clacks
and Jewelry, etc
122 S. Main St.
Old jjold and silver taken the same as cash.
House Cleaning
Time is h.te and the War against Hrgs, Moths <V , i on. V.V h ve pre} ired
* Ki!!er f f, r the ext rmrnation of these pe«ts, I.t IM t that if this be
1 m;V d with the pa-te before papering the result will be very s itn.f; tory. We are
aholic- idqimt'Ts fcr Moth Halls, Insect powder, Ilellilnre ft.".
REDICK & GROJIMA.N
100 NORTH MAIN ST. BUTLER.
Subscribe for the CITIZEN.
" THE BUTLER CITIZEN.
No Gripe
n you 'ike IT I'i fills. T! i cW-fasb
loned. sngur-eo;: - which tar you all to
pieces, p.rr. not In it with Hood's. L'asy to kike
! .<v T- •; *'" ■ ___ '
of noo.rs Pills, which AR-» „ H
opto iViie every r •SJK-'-T. '
! ■ re. V. I. Bood ft Co.. LoctS. MJIS.
*N»» „T,H- FFLHTOTTCTT BMCIFLMNVBLI
Ttioiißands itre TRYING ft.
In older to prove tlia great Tl:<»rft of
F. Y'l Cream JJahn, the N. '-T effective EURO
for Citarrh and Cold in He vl. wo have pre
pir.d A g<-:I;roas trial size for 10 cents
(i-.t it of your DNI-JGI-T or CCND 10 rents to
ELY liliOS., 5-5 V,-.I:-R.-a St., S. Y. City.
I snTered from caU-rh of the N-or t KIND
ever since N boy, aa.L ) ne. , r H • 1 <,R
| CURE, but Eiy', Cream I'aln.- SA<- •> • • <i"
j even that Many acquaintanc »B* • U- I
\ it vritU excl'ont results- — Ostruin.
4-> Warren A .E.. Chicago, 111.
ELV's Cream 15.1LM ifi the acknowledged
j cur - for catarrh and contains no cocaine,
mercury nor ANY INJURlOUS
&0 ceuti. At DNIRYISTS or by mail.
VICTORy
A 1 < ays crowns our efforts to
secure the handsomest RT:d
'most correct thing in 'Men's
Dress at all season's of the
year.
There's a fresh, bright
Fparkle of style aliout our
spring patterns, the hind
that has snap ami art iu it.
We cater to .the economical
man because our cloth'.s
give a doltar of service for
every dollar paid.
Let ns show you the kind of
a suit we make for
$25.
ALAND,
MAKER OF
MEN'S . LOTHEb
Greai Shoe Sale
J '
At C E. Uliller's.
Arc you in ths market for
good footwear cheap. This
is to be a great month at our
store. Summer shoes and
slippers must go and if you
are needing any call while
the selection is large.
Red Hot Prices.
Mfn'H Tan Hioos SMO. sl.4*. fl.iw
Ml'ii* Isuif !!.«. I.l*l. !"I
KAII'M Working HIIOCM I . 1.1 '• I
VVn s l« Hi<; I.*". 1..0
Ladl ■ I hi« fi IMf . I 1». I : •
L.i'tj«">* OX.'oml T i •. 7<. i;>
I Ladles' s«*rgc lip-,; :■»
li<»ys' I'liM* IJuff > *•,. , .. ' •, I I
Vouth'M rim* ISuflT Hhoi's .. UH
We Hold Noising sac!i.
Sell shoes is our watch word.
All summer shoes must go.
This will L»e a nion'li long to
be remembered by those wno
attend this sale.
Reprir'iig Dane Promptly.
C-EIiLLER.
D. L. CLEELAND, >
\ Jeweler and Optician, >
< 125 S. Main St., )
Butler, Pa. /
I
C. SELIGMAN & SON,
JTAIIORS.J
No. 4!o W. Jeffarson St.,
Butler, Pa.
A lii •• of lati-,t Kort-lKii
and UoiiK'iil-r >,,ilSiil?s
always in sliwk. , ... ,
I It. M>!• u. ! ork
to |{lfi' sal IsfiM'tlon.
; PRICES REASONABLE.
OIL PtiEAL ' ~
L'N .1 for If < : . Covrt ffn -S, I'owls
ETC. IH . .• '!l:nd I r ;«• I ower
to iiuin: I' >. AMI JI U 1 'A It? ("ivajjest
li I d in T!I<? r. :irk< I.
LINSEED CIL
y« ars on lion ■«?, I»:I» ii nr fin •;. \<l patnls
ari* dfjui . ::l «|:i: ' ;y: ML. i- n r w>me
vc v L I. \7;»:ofc;r tiurclri r.
t'lti rn 1.!.: d oil or n.' *l* ami while
lo -i. . for i or addreiM
m ni;" '"turer. TliU I l*r<)S &U., I."J W
Ulaoiund btrwt Allegheny. I'a.
r i
VOU CAiv MND
ft Y ' I'lTTSaffc'O 2t «•.•> A«* ' RL.MTIV. J . L FFL
y 'A..* Agwp ■ SLEatI'JSTGTOir BEOS.
-*» Ttrrrtv* »D»»RAT
ARE ALL OUR HEROES DEAD?
They did r.ot ft?nt a.» other soldiers.
When we fired a vo'.l<=y they advanced ln
stead o: going back. The more we tired the
nearer they came to us. We are not used
to tlgh'.rg with men who act so.—State
ment of u Spanish prisoner taken during
Wood's charge. Jur.e 24, ISSB.
Can they (foreigners) r.ot see that men
do not tight :.ki. this Cn our civil war) for a
mere shoptill? —James Russell I.owell.
Are all our heroes dead?
Is American courage fled?
Men told cs so
Three months ago.
Ere the word of "war" was said.
Are our city boys all dudes—
Sh >pkeepera. weaklings, prudes?
Men told us so
Three months ago.
Ar.d warned us 'gainst all fends.
Are they "holiday soldiers" all—
Just for dre»» parade ar.d bail—
With thsir g ::.s so bright
And their suits 90 "tight."
As they spring to the bugle-call?
Do th» sons of this Yankeescd
AU worship the dollar god?
We have- hoard for years
These foreigners' sneers
At the land of pork ar.d cod.
Ah! stand on this Cuban dune
On the twenty-fourth of June.
And see Wood's men
(And their actions then),
And you'll sing a different tune.
Hear the shriek of each Mauser ball!
See one out of ten men fall!
With never a chance
For a single glance
At the foe, with i'Ji cuckoo call.
See "Teddy" Boosevelt's "fops"
As they spring through the chaparral uops!
Mere "knights of the pen"—
Mere football men—
These lads whom th« lead ne'er stops.
See O'Xeill march down the line!
See Capron's saber »h!ne!
With never a halt
'Neath the leader; salt.
They spring toward the hidden line.
See the awe-struck Spaniards run!
H-»r the "pop" of each Yankee gun!
Mark the total rout;
Hear the victors shout
In the struggle so wel' begun.
Bee the trench, with Its forty dead.
With that "dude." Fish, at the head!
Ah! "dudes" like these
Shall have knights' degrees
In the roll by Washington led.
See Holaon's Immortal eight
As they enter hell's yawning gate
While the great guns' yells
Sound their funeral knells-
Till they rise, in spite of fate.
Ah. Lowell was right when hi said
Of our heroes then living and dead
, That men don't fight
Like that for the right
To deal in bacon and bread.
"Tis a lie, that we worship gold!
'Tis a lie, that our courage Is cold!
Let the carpers that sneered
Ar.d said that we feared
Forever thtir silence hold.
—J. Scott Clark. In Chicago Evening Post.
j COULD BE HAPPY YET)
I The Old Mountaineer HaJ Had a
f Troublesome Time. >
WHILE making a trip through the
mountains of eastern Kentucky
last summer I stopped ODe day under
the inviting shade of a thick-headed
beech to rest aad cool my horse.
Soon I heard a soft, measured tramp,
tramp iu the thick dust of the road,
and, looking up, beheld an old man
approaching my shade, his chin against
his breast.
He came up, said: "Howdy, stran
ger," took a seat close by my side aod
*u- lil.-.l tUrl,
He took out uls jaekknife and nerv
ously whittled his right shoe sole a
few seconds, then closed the knife
again, rammed it back in his pocket
and looked around at me with an ex
pression of desperate agony.
".Mister," he began, after a sighing
pause, "I'm in a heap o' trouble this
'ere day. Hit's the tip-top of a moun
t'in of trouble that's bin a-pilin' up
fer the last 15 years. I'm jist out
huntin' fer some one to help me let
loose of it a little. I'm a-gittin' white
all inised up in the black of my hair,
an' I can't stand up under things as
I could when there was more sap in
my timber. I want you to advise me
what to do —yon are a pirty peart
lookin' little bow-legged feller."
"Well, tell me your trouble, and I'll
put in a hand if I can help you any,"
I said, smiling.
"Wall, about 15 jears ago me an'
Tom Snodgrass, a near neighbor of
mine, went away off down ter Cin
cinnati to sell a lot of fox an' coon
skins.
"Wall, we wanted to have er little
time arter we sold our skins, an' so
we got to rnakin' hog-troughs outen
our stomachs by pourln' a lot of stump
water-lookin' stuff*in 'em called lego
beer. Not bein' use ter any thing wuss
than moonshine whisky we soon tfot
so ediotically drunk that we couldn't
tell our own names.
"Wall, when the sunlight o' sense
begin to rise on our inteliecks ag'in
I found every vent of my coon-skin
money was gone. I was busteel. So
I sez to Tom: 'Tom,' sez I, 'l'll have
ter borry a leetle speck o' your money
ter git deck passage biick on a boat
home.'
"Tom hesertated a leetle while, then
sed: 'Bill, I ain't no Wall street my
se'f, but, by gum! I'm a man, Bill—
a man clear through from rhync to
rliyne an' I'll be cuEsed cf I don't let
you have 50 cents. Lots o' fellers, ye
know, wouldn't do it, Bill. When a
man's down lots o* fellers tries to keep
his face in tlie clay, but it ain't Tom
Snodgrass—nary time. Here's the
stuff, by tfully!'
"I took the'money as a bat takes a
fly, an' Bed, sez I: Tom, this thing
don't stop here. You are puilin' me
outin a mighty tight place, an' I'll
remember the favor while there's oil
in my lamp. No difference what you
want outln me hereafter, all yo've got
to do is to holler fer it an' je git it.'
"Wall, about three months arter we
got back Tom comes to ine just as
the ran was sfjnattln' down behind a
hill an sez: 'Bill, that ar o' yourn
—SnriMa Jane—she's ahont the nicest
piece o* Temernlne furniture in tries*,
'ere hills, an' I've decieled I want to
add her to the attrackshuns o' my
brand-new log house.'
"'I can't do it. Torn,' I sed, 'the
fack is, the gal is about to hook up
an' make a team with John Stacey.
They are to trot off together next
week.'
"'I can't hep that. Bill,' he said,
lookin' nt me with an eye full of tears,
*1 got my heart sot on the gal an'
can't git it off. You must give her to
me at once. I don't want to throw up
nuthin' to you, Bill, but you know
what ye sed when I let ye have that
60 cents.'
" 'You shall have her,' I sed, docidcd
lv. '1 never go back on a feller that
pulled me outin hot water when the
skin was about to slip. Come over to
morrer an' j,'it her.'
"The ffal loved Stncey, an' so, when
1 tole h> r about the new arrangement,
she filled her apron full o' tears, an'
sent home Stace>'s picter an' hanker
cher. She married Tom, poor thing.
"My wife soon died, an' then my pal
—Tom's wife—mixing the grief of her
distasteful marriage with the death
of her mother, wilted away like a cut
vine, an' died herself two months later.
"I soon married again, gittin' one of
BUTLER PA., THURSDAY, ALTGITST 2.">. 3SOH
the pirtieat pals in the settlemint, be
sides the best sang difrger in the coun
ty. I was gittln'along fine—bavin'no
work to do arter gittin" such a stout,
HAI'I'ILY WATI'IILVO Ml WIFF. PI/JW.
vvillin' gal. l!ut Tom was still alive
and full o' memory, an' my paradise !
soon had a flaming sword at its gate.
He cum to me one day when I was i
settin' on the field fence happily !
watcbin' my wife plow. He looked at
her for a long time, an' his mouth |
begun to water. He sed: 'Bill, that's j
a piece o' furniature out thar that j
would look mighty well in my empty
house. Let me have her.'
" 'Can't do it, Tom,' I said. 'l'd be i
all broke up without her. I can't let '
you have the last wife I've got.'
" 'ls it possible. Bill,' he began, his j
lower jaw loose, an' his eyes spillin' 1
tears. 'Can it be that you've forget
my noble ack to you when ye stood \
lielple.-8 an' busted in Cincinnati? Oh, j
Bill! Bill! it can't be. it can't be, that i
you've forgot me lettin' you have that ;
50 cents!'
"That was a fetcher, an' he'knowed |
it would be. Wall, the upshot of it j
was that we went to the old gal an' i
laid the case in front of her. She !
kicked aguinst the proposition at fust,
but soon gentled off. The next day
Squire Manning divorced me an' her
an' married lier an' Tom.
"But the worst his come now, stran
ger. He come to me this morning an'
demanded my prize coon dog—a dog i
that cost me a barrel o' moonshine 1
whisky an' the revolver I shot Craig <
Toliver with. I don't know w hat to do j
I hate to go back on a man who trot
ted forward to my relief in time of
need, an' loaned me !>0 cents; but, mis
ter, arter all the sacerfices I've made.
I don't think he orter demand —I don't
see how he can have the heart to ax
me to give up the best coon dog that
ever yelped at the root of a tree! Tell
me what to do!"
"Well, it seems simple enough tome;
suppose yon pay him back the 50 cents
and get rid of him?"
A sf-mphic light overspread his brow
and flowed down and filled the hills
and hollows of his jagged old face.
"Wall, stranger, by "gosliins! Why
didn't I think o' that before! Gal
went, wife follercd; all on account of
not bavin' any thought or a friend to
advice, but I'll not mourn now, for
with him paid up an' coon dog left 1
can be happy yet!"—Lf iiisvilleCourler-
Journal.
Fnliln for Ilrld^n.
O. " Ac n'-l hiil \x r\ nrl^»* linui minr
brides will be patriotic enough, nghl
in the face of tradition and conven
tionality, to eschew the time-honored
orange blossoms. At any rate, there's
a tegend going the rounds to the effect
that this prized blossom is thoroughly
Spanish, an African king having in the
dim past presented a magnificent tree,
loaded with creamy, fragrant, waxen
blossoms, to the Spanish court. Out
siders begged in vain for branches of
this famous plant and used any num
ber of ruses to gain them. So carefully
were they guarded, however, that for
a long time not one got away. But at
last the fairdaughter of thecoiirt gar
dener sold one her father had given
her to a foreign ambassador, receiving
in return her "dot" and breaking off
another branch for herself. Kver
since that wedding day orange blos
soms have been considered a fitting |
ornament for a bride. Let us hope her
treachery didn't lose her father bis
head. — Philadelphia Record.
Nmiiemlr Flelitinw.
"It must have been a desperately
fought battle," said Mrs. Ooldsboj-ough.
as she laid down the paper.
"Tell me about it,"* replied Mr. Gold*-
brrough.
"The commanding general had sever
bicycles punctured under him."—N. Y
Journal.
Well Snl<l.
It was at a "recognition" meeting,
and everybody was saying nice tilings
nbout the new pastor. At least every
body had done so until the junior elder,
who was a bit of a greenhorn, got up
and said: "Well, dear friends, we are
plain folk, and we might have got
along with a less eloquent and a less
able man than Mr. Preacliwell, but, as
you all knjw, we were unable to find
such an one!"— Judy.
An !iie*enmilile Hr*i„,n*e.
Mr. Meekton thought he would dis
pel his wife's cold and haughty de
meanor by an effort to be facetious.
"Well," he said, "did you see any
mermaids while you were at the sea
shore ?"
"So," she answered, In her habitual
tone of superiority, "but I saw a num
ber of mere men." —Washington Star.
ImpoHiible.
It wa» a Cuban drama
And the actor's fac«i wan sail.
Quoth ho, "To play the villain
IH really too bad;
Hut Injury with Insult
IH mingled and I'll Quit.
If I play 'the BpanUh gunner/
How can I make a hit?"
—Washington Star.
AIBIOB i O DO IT.
\ '
"What yo' ffwine dt> wid dat mule,
chile?"
"Ise gwine sell hit to Uncle Sam."
"What h<; gwlne do wid it?"
"He gwine to send it to Cuby, to kick
dem Spanish forts to pieces."—J,'. Y.
Ledger.
A. Word to Lovers.
You may br«ath» her name in blissful
dreams,
Vou m«.y wrlto ht-r love-lorn sonnets,
But you won't know Just how dear she
Seuma
Till yop I,yy her jiata and bonnets.
"IT'S NOT MY WAY."
"It's r.ot mv way."
Hotv often ;s this heard.
"it's coi m.v way, to ;peak the kindly word,
1 feci inougn, but 'tis r.oi well to speak.
To tell my loving out It seems so weak."
i "It's r.ot my way."
j How often hearts have broken
Ilecau* the loving word has been un
spoken ;
Beeau-? the smile we lookfd for was a
frown.
The har.d lf>»t should uplift, but held us
down.
j "It's r.ot my way.
To speak the word that craving love re
quires.
To voice approval, foster vair. desires."
Hearts often faint ar.d fallout by the way,
Because to speak is not your way.
j "It's not my way."
Ah well, when Death shall come.
And touch the bee; -loved Hps and make
them dumb,
i Sad w ill It be for you, if grim resret
And stern remorse upon your heart strings
set
Their fingers firm;
i Because li Is their way. to torture ar.d to
I wring.
Then you'll remember every little thing,
The mile you did not give, the word un
spoken.
Which might have glided life ar.d kept a
j heart unbroken.
Aye. then you will remember;
• And in blood sweat and agony will say:
i "Would it had been my way
! To love, approve, and tell it out. JO meet
For it was you that made my life com-
I plete."
| —Hose See lye-Miller, in N. Y. Observer.
j j A LITTLE DIPLOMACY j
f By J. J. BELL. j,
* * AT OU mentioned that you were go
j[ :ng to call upon your cousin,"
1 observed Jim, as we walked along.
"Yes; you better join me," said I.
"No, thanks, old man. But Heaven
; knows 1 wish I could," he sighed rather
than spoke.
"What's the worry, Jim? You never
I were serious about Connie, were you?"
"Wasn't I?"
"H'm! Well, to my knowledge, it's
months since you were last ut the
house. But —"
"I say, Tom," he interrupted, "I wish
you would put ill a good word forme."
I "Eh?" said I, rather staggered.
"Look here; it's this way. Connie
: and I were chums for a long time, as
! you know, and I almost believe we
would have becorry; more than friends
if we hadn't had a quarrel. Oh! it was
nothing', really, but Connie wouldn't
make it up. And now when we meet
she won't speak to me."
"Dear, dear!" I murmured, with
sympathy. "Have you tried writing
to her?"
"Yes; once."
"Any reply?"
"My own letter," he said, shortly.
"I'm afraid, Jim, that your matter
for disagreement amounted to more
than you care to tell me."
"Well," said my friend, "the thing
was nothing to begin with, but some
how it got exaggerated."
"Come away; let's hear about it,"
(said I, pneouraffingly.
Jirn groaned. "It began about Violet
Hastings. I know I did behave like an
ass there once, and Connie found out,
and then I discovered a previous small
romance of Connie, and between the
two- oh, bandit! there's no use talk
"l'm afraid you are most to blame,
Jim. It was terribly foolish of you to
find out anything about Connie." We
hail halted at the corner of the ter
race.
"Of course, I've blamed myself ever
since," said Jim, humbly. "But will
you, Tom, for the sake of old friend
ship, do me a good turn? Find out if
she cares at all —If I may see her
again." Then he burst out almost
roughly; "You can saj - I love her. if
you lik<\"'
"Softly, Jim, softly. I think yon
mean what you say, but Connie's a dear
little prirl, and I don't want to make any
mistakes. I must consider."
Jim was beginning again to protest
his affection, but I held out my hand.
"Will you be round to see me to
night?" I asked him.
"Thanks, I'll be glad. But, T say, old
man—"
However, I did not wait to let him
continue. Jim's a good man; be and
I are like brothers. Connie's a good
little woman—in fact, I— But, never
mind. When I arrived at her abode I
found her alone in the drawing-room.
It is not an unusual occurrence, this
finding her alone, and it is, perhaps,
the only time when I am glad to be
lie r cousin. By the time I bad fin
ished my first cup of tea, I had made
up my course of action with regard
to Jim's affair; but it was a delicate
matter. In any case, I would offer no
advice to my cousin. Experience had
shown me that my five years'seniority
bad no value In her estimation.
"By the way, Connie," I began, hold
ing out my eggshell for more tea, "I
met a man to-day."
"How you surprise me!" she ob
served, flippantly.
"I met a mun," I went on, steadily,
"who, when I invited him to join me
In paying my respects to you, abso
lutely refused—absolutely refuse*!."
Connie regarded me pityiugly.
"No doubt, being a man, be had
work to do."
"No," said I. "He was a literary
man."
"Oh, indeed," she remarked, a trifle
suspiciously, as she handed nic my re
plenished cup. Then she remarked:
"You have been out of town lately?"
"Yes; and the first person I met
on my return to-day was this literary
man. Funny thing, bis refusing to
call with me; I even thought of of
fering to let him come in my sfead."
"If you bail dared," she exclaimed.
Recollecting herself, she added, cold
ly, "I dQii't know what you are talking
about."
"Well. I've been falklnif some non
sense, but now I'll give you the truth."
i sipped my tea and continued: "The
fact is, I have just left Jim Lawrence.
I had an idea that he was on bis way
to call here, but 1 think be understood
from my manner that be bad better
not."
"V'eiu weren't rude, Tom?" —anxious-
ly-
"lmpossible. Butl knew you couldn't
be bothered with him; be has become
such an idiot of late."
"You shouldn't speak so of a friend
of yours," said Connie, reproachfully.
"Ob, Jie is a thoroughly ffood sort,
tint ho has annoyed his friends dread
fully by throwing away his chances
with Violet Hastings. Why, what with
her money and her father's influence,
Jim would have been made for life.
Besides, V£is such n charming R1 rl."
"Mr. Lawrence," remarked Connie,
timidly, "used sometimes to strike me
as a man who scarcely knew his own
mind."
"Hitfht, quite rlffht! That's Just
Jim. Take again the instance of Vio
let. Jim has simply fallan in love with
some one else. It may last this time;
but I hope not."
"But, surely, Tom, you dont be
lieve in marrying for money?"
"My dear Connie, do not let uspes
romantic." She blushed slig'htly. I
felt encouraged t« go on. "Yes; I'm
doinp my level best to convince him
of his folly and send him on the way
he should go. He is coming to see
ine to-night, when I must speak to him
, seriously."
"Do you think it is wise to inter
i fere?" put in my cousin, hurriedly.
"Well, you sec, I've got an inkling
that the girl he c::res for won't look
at him. and it is exactly at such a time
that a man's heart may be turned back
to its o'eler flame."
"Still, Tom," with a shade of indig
nation. "it's none of your business."
"Oh. but it is. Connie. Jim and I
arc o!d pals, and I'm not poing to have
hiai moping nbout as he is at present."
"Do you thinls he really cares—cares
fur the —the girl who won't look at
him?" What a humble little voice foe
Ccnniel
"The thing is obvious enough, I'm
sorry to ? y. Indeed, my dear old
Jim is an unmitigated ass."
"He's not!"
"So!"
Directly upon this startling contra
diction my cousin began to pour tea
into a cup for nobody in particular.
A third of the bevaroge found its way
into the saucer. I stirred my tea,
which had grown co!d. and smiled sad
ly during the awkward pause. "I once
knew a girl," I resumed, "who fell in
love, and for a long time behaved
very fdbllshiy." No remark from Con
nie.
"I once knew a girl," I continued,
"who pot a chance of putting matters
right between her lorer and herself,
and —"
"Did she take it?" Inquired my
cousin, bending' to pick a microscopic
crumb from the floor.
"I haven't heard," I said, solemn
ly. looking out of the window.
Presently I rose and smoothed my
hat carefully. "You're looking a bit
"DO YOU THINK HE REALLY <""AKES?"
pale, Connie," I observed. "Not feel
ing quite up to the mark?" .
"Oh dear, no! I'm feeling splendid.
You know I never hael much color."
"Take care of yourself, then. Good
bye. Don't mind ringing; I know the
way downstairs."
"Good-bye, Tom," she said.
Her hand was quite cold, and her
inouth looked wistful. "Good-bye,*' I
said again, and turned to the door. I
was half way downstairs when she
called me back.
rencc you might tell him I iiave« book
of his to return to him—the first time
he calls."
She spoke so coolly that I quitted
her, feeling altogether puzzled. In the
liall I discovered I had left a glovo
in the drawing-room, and, annoyed
with myself, I ascended the stairs
once more. The door Iftid been care
fully closed and it opened to me with
out a sound. I spied my glove lying on
the chair where I had been sitting,
but something prcventeel me making
across the room to possess myself of
my property. Instead, I shut the door
very softly and hurried from the
house. I still have a memory of a
girl lying on a sofa with lier face
burieel in the cushions, with her shoul
ders moved with a great emotion. Of
course, I told Jim only enough to
make him a happy man.—Madame.
niimal 111 version.
"What do you think? Mrs. Dodger
wc»t to a picnic the day after her hus
band was burled."
"What of it? Picnics are not for
pleasure, goodness knows."—Chicago
Record.
In Order la Stive 111* Life.
Mrs. Iloyle —There are a few leave#
missing from my cook book.
Mrs. Doj'le—Your husband probably
took them.—N. V. Journal.
A Scheme with Two Enm.
Jink*—Wh'at's the idea of sending
your family away?
Winks —For their summer vacation.
"But jom're staying behind your
self?"
"Well, hang it all! I guess I want a
vacation as well as they do." —-N. Y.
W orliL
II IV» u Fatal AllacU.
"What's that book you're reading,
papa?"
"The 'Last Hays of Pompeii,' my
pet."
"What did he die of, .papa?"
"An eruption, dear."—Facts.
Her Anslefy.
Husband Do you realize that your
clothes have cost me over $2,000 during
the last year?
She —It was all done because I want
ed to look well before you, dear. —
Detroit Free Press.
Pnraiuulic.
"They say Jinks has live bicycles."
"I shouldn't wonder. He's been do
inx a pneumatic business for a long
time."
"Yes; he's been running it entirely
cn wind."—Chicago Post.
About (he Site of It.
Little Elmer—Pa, what Is an extcm
poraneousspeaker?
Prof, lli-oadhfail —One who can talk
fluently about nothing without any
previous preparation. Puck.
( <ml,l Hot He.
He —I thought of giving you a ring
with opals and diamonds. But per
haps you consider opals unlucky?
She (quickly)— Not with diamonds.
—N. Y. Journal.
He Agreed with Her.
She —There are periods in a man's
life when be shrjuld come to a full
stop.
He— Of course; what else are period*
for ?—Yonker* Statesman.
Hmarler Tlinn n Horse.
Hewitt—Vou can lead a horse to
drink, but you can't make him drink.
Jewett —You're no horse. —Town
Topics.
A \alnral Question.
fche—My little brother won't bother
us tonight.
He—l'm glad to hear it. Is he still
living?—N. Y. Truth.
Artlflelal Ileaiity.
Klla Where doe* Klla get her good
looks from her father or her mother?
i Htolla—From her futber.* He keeps a
drtur store, —X. Y. Journal.
FALCONRY IS THE FAD
Ths Famcus Old Sport Revived ia
the East
It I'ronilpsm to ISeeome a Urtaltr
I'ail Than Golf—lntense F.icltc
in en t of llcntlnjf with
Trulned Hawks.
What strange fascination mea oan
llnd in the old sport of falconry, that
cruel swoop of a tierce monarch wf the
air on the track of a bird who*e only,
safety lies in llight, is a mystery to these
whose knowledge of the pastime is lim
ited to what they have read about it in
' old bocks. Pj>i>rt*n:en who have taken,
i to this method of capturing game birds
, declare that this is the essence of ex
citing sport. They argue that the man
i who goes shooting with a modern
' breech-loader may kill more birds, but
j lie has only ilie satisfaction of knowing
i that he has trained himself to be ex
j pert in the killing process, while the
I falcoter has educated one of the wild
est and most unlikely creatures in ex
j istence to obey his will and kill as he
! directs. Besides, say the falconers,
what is the shooting of a bird on the
wing compared with the exciting spec
tacle of a falcon swooping with light
ning-like swiftness on a partridge that
is speeding for all its wings are worth
I to get away.
Whatever its opponents may say, cer
tain it is that the sport of falconry, the
noble old sport that has been sung
about by ancient poets and pictured on
numberless canvases by famous palnt
ers, is becoming a fashionable country
pastime, whose followers are as en
thusiastic over their favorite amuse
ment as ever was a golf crank or ywcht-
Ing fiend. It is essentially a cruel sport,
but no sport that has for its ultipmte
object the killing of n bird or animal
can be considered humane, and the
death of a quarry by the talons of a
hawk is probably as painless an end
as being killed by a rifle shot.
A party of falconers will start from
the country house at which the meet
takes place with half a dozen or »OTe
hawks, carried on the cadge, a wooden
frame, on which they are transported
to the field. The birds are hooded. The
hoods are of silver, and the tuft entitles
the owner to readily single out his bird
from others. When the moment far ac
tion comes the falcon is takeu from "the
cadge and carried on the gloved lxmd oi
the falconer, ready to be freed at any
instant for the flight after the sute.
When the covey is reached the nkecm
is relieved of its swivel, hood and Wash
and released. She will dart up in the
air and wait there until the quarry Ls
sighted, circling round and round the
spot where she has been released. When
it is seen that the falcon is ready, a rush
is made by the falconers and the dog 6
that accompany the party to the spot
where the covey of partridges has been
located.
l*p rise the frightened birds, and, see
ing their enemy, the falcon, waiting to
seize them above, while unknown dan
gers confront them below, the birds
wing their way forward, bent on escap
ing. It roust be a fast-flying partridge
that can outstrip the falcon in a race.
The old and crafty birds of the covey
know this well, and their tactics are to
head for the densest bushes and seek
out a young bird that has sense enough
only to fly blindly on in hope t>f its
wing saving it from the falcon'r foot.
It is usually a short race. With a ;v«qop
that the falconer who is an enthrnJait
watches and admires, as the angler does
the expert's cast of a line, or the yacht
ing man the swift sweep of a bout in a
nice, the hawk is down on the part
ridge, picking it up with her foot,
md carrying it off to a place of safety
w here It can gorge at ease on the prize.
Sometimes, as a reward for clever work,
the falcon is allowed to continue its
meal, but if other work is required of
It the dead bird is added to the luig of
the party and the hunt is resumed.
When the next covey is reached an
other bird is allowed to show his prow
ess. Rarely will a bird kill more than
one bird out of a covey, a point that the
falconers use in answering their crit
ics who assert that the sport is a cruel
one, for say the falconers: "We get ft
great deal more sport than the man who
shoots birds, with less killing thnn he.
considers necessary to a successful
day." But occasionally a bird will kill
two partridges from the same covey.
This was a feat accomplished by Black
Lady recently, when, after killing on®
bird, she was after another like a flash.
The second one she was eating when
the falconers come upon her. The first
was caught by the dugs, the blow at
Black Lady having broken one of
wings.
A good day's sport with trained birds
will result in the bagging of a dozen
partridges, cot much of a result from a
hunter's point of view, but still a bug
of eomfortablFjiroportJens.— Cincinnati
Enquirer.
Same Mlaallea.
In 1842, during the struggle bet ween
the British und the Boers over T®"
occupation of Natal by the former, the
British made an attack on the fcer
camp, which failed through misman
agement and resulted In comparatively
heavy loss. This was followed by a
Boer attack on the position called "The
i'oint," garrisoned by 23 men, in
the Boers were again successful.
now made an onslaught on the en
trenched camp on the Durban flat—tbe
original position, w_here the enemy's
colors had been hauled down, and turned
against the British the 18-pounder cap
tured at the point. Both sides weee
short of ammunition. The British
watched the shots from the captured
gun, picked them up and fired them
back again. The enemy were nof slow
to follow the example, so that the mis
siles served both sides several times. —
Cincinnati Knqulrer.
Ilia Identity.
Little Mrs. Newtoride—Aren't you
the poor man to whom I gave a large
piece of my cake last week?
Hard Knox No'm. I'm his ghost.—
l'uck.
In it Herlona Condition.
Bounder —I am afraid my liver i*
getting out of order.
Sounder —What makes you thiukso?
Rounder —I was worrying about my
debts this morning.—TownToploa.
Knew What She Wanted.
"Why not take this parrot, ma'asa?"
asked the dealer. "It talk*."
"1 want a parrot to talk to and a»t
to talk back," replied Miss Elcer.—
Town Topics.
Mlalook Hla Man.
Wallace—And did you make him aat
his words?
Hargreaves—No. He turned out U» be
one, of those fellows who would rrvher
fight than eat.—Cincinnati Enquirer.
Adhfilre tiema.
"Goodness! I don't see how Mrs.
Penn.vpurse can stick on so inanj dia
monds."
"Easy enough. They're paste."—
Brooklyn Life.
-- ~~ .
No. 33 »
BABY'S PICTURE.
TH» l*hot«*K raphor Mom m. Cnlq««
of Making Doling Mam
nina Ilnppr.
An enterprising photographer has
lately completed a system by which
his picture's of babies have become fa
mous. He lias discarded all the'fa
miliar cx;;edients of his profession to
> persuade very young children to sub
mit to the camera, and his scheme has
been completely successful. One part
of his gallery has been fitted up like a
nursery. \ronnd the room at con
venient poin's are situated cameras,
and these are in charge of his assist
ants, says Tit-flits.
The photographer devotes his at
tention ti (be baby. He tries all the
tcys in turn, getn on as intimate terms
as possible with the baby after such
short acquaintance, and gradually
lures the unsuspecting infant, into
I looking his best. VI hen pose and ex
pression arc satisfactory he gives a
! signal to one of his assistants at the
► cameras and the trick fs done. Moth
: ers bring their babies from all quar
ters to this tactful photographer. It
would be a difficult matter to find any,
child who would not, after ten min
utes' session with toys, exhibit some
expression that his parents would be
proud of. The artist catches that ex
pression, and as many other agreeablt
ones as passible.
The final delight comes to the moth
er when she receives the proofs, not
sent as proofs usually are, but mount*
cd on a large piece of cardboard, which
| makes it possible for her to compare
: them simultaneously. Thie wise man
i has left nothing undone which could
! strengthen his hold on the babies and
j their photographs.
THEY NEVER RISE.
Snch In flail to lie the Way with the
Dertd Victim* of Lake Sa
perlor.
Another very interesting and very
sad thing about Lake Superior ia that
it never gives up its dead, says the Min
neapolis Tribune. Whoever encoun
ters terrible disaster—happily infre
quent in the tourist season—and goea
down in the angry, beautiful blue wa
ters never comes up again. Prom those
earliest days when the daring French
voyagers in their trim birch-bark ca
noes skirted the picturesque shores of
this noble but relentless lake down to
this present moment those who have
met their deaths in mid-Superior still f
lie at the stone-paved bottom. It may
be that, so very cold is the water, some
of the bodies may have been preserved
through the centuries. Sometimes,
not far from the shore, the bodies of
people who have been
fishing smacks or from pleasure boats
overtaken by a cruel squall have been
recovered, but only after the most
heroic efforts with a drag-net or by
the diver. Once on a trip down the
lakes I met a clergyman who, as we
passed a point of land some miles be
fore entering the narrowing of the
lake at the 800, pointed out the place
where the ill-fated Algoma went down
on the reef some eight years ago, and
as he looked he said, slowly: "I was
at the funeral of one man who went
down with her, and the only reason
that his body is not at the bottom to
day with the other 38 that were Inst
TEACHES BIRDS TO SWG.
How Younjt Canaries Are Taafkt Pop*
alu Airs by Means of a
Mails Box.
An interesting and successful expe
riment with canary birds has been per
formed by a gentleman living in the
vicinity of Twenty-first and Viae
streets, reportsi the Philadelphia Rec
ord. This gentleman takes a dilet
tante Interest in the breeding of these
songbirds. As soon as the young birds
are hatched he takes them and pats
them apart ki a room where he has
placed a small music box that imitates
the tone of a canary and is constantly
playing the same piece. Here he keeps
them by themselves, allowing them to t
hear only (he tone of the music box, so
that the young birds, accustomed to
hear the same air played continually
by degrees become masters of it and
•lng it alone. All that is necessary to
start them when they are silent is to
whistle the airs, and the birds will im
mediately Join In. lie has already
taught quite h number of young birds
to sing and is now engaged in teach
ing three young ones the air "Coming
Through the Uye." Although they are
ouiy seven weeks old they sing the air
very clearly, and in two more months
they will have it quite perfect. The
gentleman does not teach the bird*
with a professional object, but as a
pleasure and a pastime, and takes
much pleasure in showing his wonder
ful pets to his friends.
An Eiod» of Hats.
The North China Herald says that a
curious phenomenon was witnessed re
cently at daybreak upon the opening
of the Cb'angrnen gate of Soochow.
Rome 4,000 or more rats of all sl*es
were syeti to file out of the gates, show
ing no fear of the country people who
were flocking to sell their market
produce in the city. There ia much ex
citement, amounting almost to a pan
!o, therefure. In Soochow, and a dire
late is prdpbesied to the city, it being
remembered that a similar exodus
happened In the 'sos, just prior to the
fall of the city into {he hands of the
Taipiug rebels.
>nmrN of Army Olßcers.
A correspondent of the London
Spectator call# attention to the fact
that out of a ;andom list of 81 offl
ters in. the American army and navy
there are three German names, one
Italian, one French and one Dutrh.
All the rcrt are unquestionably Brit
ish.
Its Status.
Little Elmer—l'apa, what is klepto
mania?
Prof. Broadhead —The most luora
tive form of insanity, my son. —Puck.
flpuke In Plain Enfllak,
A statemont mad© in good faith, buti
difficult to accept, was recently ofleredi
to his congregation by a country pee-i
tor. He had iJeen holding form oai
the advantages of plain speaking.
"Why, brethren," he said, bringing!
his haud dow-n upon the puiplt with
great vigor, "there's no need of altj
these long words and bigh-soundintf •
terms; w>t A bit. Look at St. Panll,
Look »t JH. l'aul, I say! Ills word*'
wtfte fall of the meat of knowledge
and help, and be didn't make use of
any flve-syli»ble talk. No, he always
spoke in plain, simple English, my
brethrear— I Tit-Bits.
How It Happens.
Neighbor —JFIow doe* it happen that,
your oldest daughter has consumption,
While your other daughter is the pic
ture of health? They appear to be
ot exiaotiy tbf name temperament.
Hoetme- My oldest dn lighter got her
winter fas b larva from Paris. The Oth
■ex TO* hers from Canada.—iN. X*