VOL* xxxv | HE IS A WISE fIAN j j| —WHO SECURES HIS CLOTHING FROM— J J. S. YOUNG, | 'J THE MERCHANT TAILOR, € s J The fWMIs, stylo, fit anil genera! make d jj up or his suits | 5 TELL their own STORY. , - —ri .STRIVING FOR EFFECT. Ij \\P\ $ 111 I m&w-® ! 5 Men won't buy clothing for the purpose I I \ I V V\jJ \ -/best oossible results for the money expend- V /{ 4 I' 0 - cheap goods but goods as cheap as « \ s\ ! V* 'Atbey can be sold an' l made up propel ly If h \l j—xSi vou want the correct thing at the correct rl rlf r*»/ _ ipP" O6 ca " on lls - we " ave rednced our spring I !' * ly fcand summer goods down to make room for I I/ \\ J t,ur heavy weight goods. J m $ y #>o %&•#< n, || l \ Fits Guaranteed. 11 i 1 J > 0 GUT | , Merchant Tailor. • K, 142 N. Main St.. Butler Pape s r °s, JEWEMSRS. We Will save You Money On Watches Clocks, > ; Silverware, 1847 Rodger Bros. I S Plateware and Sterling Silver^ Our Repair Department takes i:. all kinds <>f W tubes, Clock and Jewelry, etc 122 S. Main St. Old gold and silver taken the same as cash. REGISTER'S NOTICES. The Register hereby gives notice that, the following accounts of executors, udmlnls trators and guardians have been filed in this office according to law, and will bo pre sented to Court for confirmation and allow ance on Saturday, the 10th day of Deeember. 1888. at 0 A. sr . of said day: 1. Final account of Adam Kamerer, guard ian of Julia L Kamerer, minor child of John I) Kamerer, deceased, late of Concord twp. as stated by Julia L Kamerer, executrix of Adam Kamerer. deceased. 2. Final account of Phillip Daubenspeck, guardian of Martha L Wailey, minor child or Martha L Wailey, deceased, late of Parker twp. 3. Final distrubutlon accouct of W. A. For quer, administrator C T A of Mary Jane Beep, deceased, late of Falrvlew borough. 4. Final account OJ Mary E Sullivan, ad ministratrix of Col. John M Sullivan, deceas ed. late of Butler borough. 5. Final account of J J Smith and John Kline, executors of Jacob Kline, deceased,, late of Adams twp. 6. Final account of Peter Landgraff, guar- I daln of George Schoene, minor child of Jos. I 0 Schoene. late of Donegal twp. 7. Final account of Mary A Rhodes, admin- | lstratrlx of Henry L Rhodes, deceased,late of | Sllpperyrock twp 8. Final account of Christina Fredrick and Theadore- J Fredrick, administrators of ] Adam J Frederick,deceased.late of Jefferson ; twp. 9. Final account of John A. Irvln. adminis trator of Geo W I rvln, deceased, late of For- ' ward twp. 10. Final account of Rev W J Grimes, exec utor of Nancy Richards, deceased, late of Connouenesslng twp. 11. Partial account of Thomas L Duff and 8. 11. Duff, executors of Samuel Duff, deceas ed. late of Wlnfleldtwp. 12. Final acount of A. P. Tannehill, admin istrator of William Tannehill, deceased, late of Slippery Rock township. 13. Final account of James McLaughlin, administrator of Hugh McLaughlin, deceas ed. late of Mercer township. 14. Final account of R P. Scott, trustee of the real estate of Thomas K. Cannon, de ceased. late of Parker township. 15. Final account of Edgar CSr>wan, admin istrator of Elmlra A. Cowan, deceased, late of Adams township. 18. Final account of Louisa Kummer, ad ministratrix of Adam Kummer, decreased, late of Butler borough. 17. Final account of W. D. Brandon, exec utor of Marv A. Cowan, deceased, late of Middlesex township. 18. Final account of Charles Dlvener. guar- L dlan of Mary O'Donnell, minor child of Den nis O'Donnell, deceased, late of Donegal township. [ 19. Final account of Ottle E. Flick, admin istratrix of W. J. Flick, deceased, late of Butler county. TO. Final account of W. J. Uinstead, ad ministrator of Richard L'mstead. deceased, late of Middlesex township. 21. Final account of A. F. Werner, guar dian, of Joseph 11. Neelv. Minor child of Jacob Neely, deceased, lato of Lancaster township. 22. Partial account of W. W. Lindsey. surviving executor of William Lindsey, . deceased, late of Cnerry township. 23. Final account of George E. Hay. exec utor of James M. Hay, deceased, late of Penn twp. 24. First and Partial account of S. O. Kamerer and Adam Kamerer. executors of John 1). Kamerer. deceased, late of Concord r' township, as tiled by S. O. Kamerer, surviv ing executor, and Julia A. Kamerer, Ex'r of Adam Kamerer now deceased. 25. Final account of John Kunimer. guar dian of Chrlstuna Kummer, minor child .if Adam Kummer. deceased, late of Butler borough. 26. Final account of Thomas A. Parks. ! administrator of Claririda A Parks, deceas- ; ed. late cf Middlesex twp. 27. Final account of W. H. C'ubbins. admin istrator of C. W. Thompson, deceased, late of Allegheny twp. 2*. Final account of W. A. Fleming, exec- 1 utor of Catherine E. Jelllnon, deceased, late | of l'etrolla boro. 29. First, final and distribution account of 1 Alex. Mitchell, trustee In partition of the I estate of Chrlrtian Otto, deceased, late of i Butler boro. j 30. Final account of Lavlna Anderson and Joseph Sutton, administrators of J. L. An- I derson. deceased, late of Venango township. I 31. Final account of M. C. Searing, execu- 1 • tor of B. F. Searing, decease*!, late of Worth j 32. Final account of Jacob Kaltenbaugh. executor of Mores Kuby. de<-ea»ed. late of \ Conno<iueuesslng twi'. 33. F'lrst partial account of Owen Brady, 1 I administrator of Owen Brady, Sr.. deceased, I late of Donegal twp. 34. Final account of John K. Gllghrlst. ] | guardian of Blanche S. Shannon, minor child ; • bv adoption of James W. and M. J. Buchan- J an. deceased, late of Marlon township, as 1 filed by John McDowell, administrator of John K. Ulighrist. now deceased. 35. Final account of Sidney O. Flick, ad ministrator of Sarah McGlnnls, deceased, late of Buffalo township. 3tJ. final account of J. M. Black, guardian of Bertha Kohlmeyer. minor child of 8 W K .'ii-n-ver. deceased. laUs of Allegheny township. j., roial account of lohn M. Heed, guar dlan of Pauline Klray, minor child of John I Klray. deceased. * W.J.ADAMS. Register. Laughing Babies Are those WHO take Hoxxie's C. C. C for coughs, colds and croup. No opium . to stupefy, no ipecac to nauseate. 50 i cent*. - THE BUTLER CITIZEN. WIDOW'S APPRAISEMENTS The following widow's appraisements of personal property and real estate set apart for the benefit of the widows of decedents have been filed in the ofli e of the Clerk of Orphans' Court of Butler Co.. viz: Widow of J. Knauff. personal p'ty. SWO 0(1 •• W. K. Nixon '• * :«» 00 " "Jon. W. Irwin " " 269 SO " H. I). Ziegler " " 300 00 '• " 11. S. Frederick " " 300 00 ** " \V. V. teaman " " .'3OO 00 •« J. M. Crooks 44 " m 00 " * 4 Earnest Wlmer " ** '<oo 00 44 W. S. Thompson 44 ** '<oo 00 44 (). Hrady, Sr. 44 4 * 300 00 44 44 T. McDcvltt, real estate 300 00 All persons interested In the above ap ijraslem?i»ts will take notVe that they will f>e presented for eonllrmatlon to the Orphans Court of Hutler county. Pa.. on Saturday, tin 10th day of l)ec\, A. !>., 18BH, •xnd if no ex ceptions be Hied they will be confirmed ab solutely. ISAAC MEALS. Clerk O. C. ROAD AND BRIDGE REPORTS. Notice Is hereby given that the following road anil bridges have been confirmed nisi by the Court and will bo presented on the first Saturday of Dec., Court. ls»s, being the 10th day of said month, and if no exceptions ar ■ filed they will be confirmed absolutely. 11. D. No. 1. September Sessions, 1898, In re, petitition of Citizens of Wintield township, for a county bridge over Rough Run on the Saxon Station and Denny's .Mill road. Court appointed Ceo. C. Pillow, J. S «'hristley and Kedlck McCandless as viewers. Aug. 4, 18U8. Report of viewers filed In favor of proposed bridge. September 10, IWH, Approved, notice to be given according to the rules of Court and to be laid before the Grand Jury at next term. BY THE COURT. R. D. No. 2, September Sessions, lsOs, In re. petition of citizens of Clearfield township for a county bridge over Hunter Creek on Klt tanlng Pike. Court appointed Frank Shearer Homer Martin and N. M. Slater viewers. Sept. sth, 189H, Report of viewers filed in favor of , proposed bridge. September 10, I*9*, approv ed, notice to be iclven according to rules of Court and to be laid before the Grand Jury at next term. BY THE COURT, R. D. No. 3. September Sessions, 1808. In re. petition of citizens of Venango township for vacation of a public road. Court appointed Levi Porter, Win. Orr and J. J. McGarvey viewers. August 22, IrtU*. Report of viewers filed In favor of vacation September 10, 1s- WB. A pproved, notice to be given according to rules of Court. BY THE COURT. R. D. No. 4, September Sessions. 189 M. In re. petition of citizens of Butler township for a public road to lead from the Powder Mill Road to a point on the- road leading from the Three Degree Road to the Meridian road near McCalmont Station. Court appointed Geo. C. Pillow, Robt. McCluug ana W. C. Fleming viewers. September 5,18118. Report of viewers filed In favor of proposed road. September 10, 1898, approved, ana fix width of road at 33 ft. notice to be given according to rules of Court. BY THE COURT, R. I>. No. 5, September Sessions. l*«us. In re. petition of citizens of Jetfer»on township for vacation, change and supply of a pubiie M>ad. Court appointed I. V Meals, Robert Smith and John A. Watson viewers. Septem bers, ISW, Report of viewers filed in favor of petitioners. September 10, 181**, approved and fix width of road at ft. Notice to be given according to rules of CouJt. BY THE COURT . ; Certified from the record this 7th day of November. Isys. ISAAC MEALS. Clerk Q. S. Court Practical Horse Shoer J WILL ROBINSON. Koiuierlv Horse Shoe at the Wick li-oufe has opened buM O'-ss in a shop in th» rear of the Arlington Hotel, where j he will do Horse-Shoe: ng in the most approved style. I TRACK AND ROAD HORSES | A SPECIALTY. ! ACTIVE SOLICITORS WANTED EVERY- I "where for "The story of the Philippines" by Murat Halstead. commissioned bj the Government as Official Historian to the W tr Department. The book was written In army | camps at San Francisco, on tin- Pacific with General Merrltt, In the hospitals at Hono- I lulu. In Hong Kong,ln the American trenches . at Manila, In the insurgeut camps with ' Agulnaldo. on the deck of the Olynipln with Dewey, and In the roar of battle at the fall of Manila. Bonanza for agents. Brimful of original pictures taken by government pho tographers on the spot. Large book. Low prices. Big profits. Freight paid. Credit given. Drop all trashy unofficial war books. ( Outßt fis-.-. Address, K. T. Barl>er. Hec'y I star Insurauce Bldg., Chicago, Biliousness Is caus'-d by torpid Ivor, which prevents diges tion and permits to i to ferment aii<l putiify in the stomach. Thei. follow dizziness, headache. Hood's tnsomina. nervoosm ss. and. ■ ■ ■ It not relieved, bilious fever _ I I a or blooil ir>i- Hood's 111 Pills stimulate t:i-- stomach. • * m rouse i liver, cur i v -<\i<lache, dizziness, con stipation. «'V J-. • • its. Sold by afl <!ruppists. The i!y Fills. •>» Mi ' with ilood'r .SarsapariJla This X» Your Opportunity. On receipt of ten cents, cash or stamps, a generous sample will be mailed of the most popular Catarrh and Hay lever Cure (Ely's Cream Balm sufficient to demon strate the gr( . l merits of the remedy. ELY BROTHERS, 56 Warren St, New York City. Rev. John Reid, Jr., of Great Falls, Mont., recommended Ely's Cream Balm to me. I can emphasize his statement, ''lt is a posi tive cure for catarrh if used as directed." Rer. Francis W. Poole. Pastor Central Pres. Church, Helena, Mont. Ely's Cream Balm is the acknowledged cure for catarrh and contains no mercury nor any injurious diug. Price, 50 cents* THE INDEPENDENT, New York. CHANGE OF FORM. REDUCTION IN PRICE. Semi-Centennial Year. THE INDEPENDENT emphasizes its Fiftieth Year by changing its foim to that of a Magazine, and by reducing its annual subscription price from $3 00 to f-..oo; single copies from ten to five cents. It will maintain its reputa.ton as the Leading Weekly Newspaper of the World. THE INDEPENDENT in its new form will print 3,640 pages of reading n'attci per year at a cost to subscribers of $2.00, while the prominent magazines, which sell for $4.00 a year print only about 2,000 pages. The subscriber to THE INDEPENDENT gets 82 per cent, more of equally gnod reading matter at one-half the cost! Only $2.00 per Year, or at ,'hat rate for any part of a year. Send postal card for free specimen copy. THE INDEPENDENT. 130 Fulton St., N. Y Butler Savings Bank 1 ">o tie r. Pa. Capi al - #60.0> 10.1*3 Surplus and Profits - - $i50,()00 L PI KVl* .... trrtud • HENRY IKOIT MAN Vic** I're-hi- ■ * VI . \M P *ELL lr m t.l oui* B - r OIKK'TOR." -I'weph L urvis I He r Iro'U "iiii VV it Hniulon w A Klein .1 "v The Butler Savings Bank is the Oldest Banking Institution, n Butler County. General hanking business tnnsai.M We solicit accounts of uil producers. mer chants, farmers anil others. All b.isintys entrusted to UJ> *lll receive prompt attention. Interest p«<d i»n time rieongltH. T H E Biitler Coonty Natiooai Bank, Butler Penn, Capital p'i in - - ft j0.000.0r. Surplus and Profits - f 114,647.87 los. Hartman, President; J. V. Ritt-., Vice President; 0. A. Bailey. Cashier; John McMarlin, Ass't Cashier. / genera! banking husine transacted. Interest paid on time deposits. Money loaned on approved security. We Invite you to open an account with this bank. 1)1 KKOT >l£S—Hon. Joseph Hartman, Hon. VV S. Waldron. I>r. .v M Hoover. H. M«> E. E. Abrams, C. I*. Collins I. (i. Smith, Leslie IV Hazlett, M. Kloegin. W. W. 11. Larkln. John Humphrey, Dr. W. C. NlcCandless, Ken Masseth. Levi M. Wise J. V. Kltt* Pearson B. Nace's Livery Feed and Sale Stable Rear of Wick House, Butler, Penn'a. The best of horses aud first class rigs al ways on band and for hire. Best accommodations in town for perma nent boarding and transient trade. Speci al care guaranteed. Stable Room For 65 Horses. A good class of horses, both drivers and draft horses always on hand and for sale under a full guarantee; and horses bought upon proper notification by PEARSON B. NACE, Telephone. No. 21». fill MFAI (OUR OLD PROCESS) UIL. ifILHL Now very cheap Feed for Horses, Cows, Sheep. Hogs, Fowls etc. Health, strength and productive power to animals. Are you feeding it? Cheapest feed in the market UNSFFD (111 AND WHITE LEAD LIiIOCC-U UIL Makes paint last for years on house, barn or fence. Mixed paints are doubt ful ijuality: some good and som** ve-v bad Write for our circular. Foi pure Linseed oil or meal, and white lead. a*k for "Thompson's." or address manufacturer. THOMPSON AO., 15 W Diamond street Allegheny. Pa. MODEL Farm for Sale I want to sell lay fart.i of 235 acres in Oakland twp. adjoining Royds town, six miles north of Butler. There is no better land for all kinds of crops in Butler county. *ly wheat and grass, this year, cannot be beat. C>nie and see them. Two good orchards, some youny timl>er and an a' uudance of the best of Spring water. The buildings onsist of a good, six rooui, frame house; one large, new, modern b> rn, and a large old one; al-o all the necessarv outbuild ings, tnclu''in>, kitchen. I want to quit farming because 1 am alone, and will sell at a bargain on easy terms. A part of the farm is ui der *id with three anil four f cet vein.-, of coal, with one bank oj>enec'; anil tile new railroad is surveyed within 100 rodi. of the house. ■l'or terms address or call upon, Peter Whitmire, SONORA. P. 0 < D. L. CLEELAND, * < Jeweler and Optician, } \ Butler, Pa. OSI CHAPTER X. LOVE AUD POWKR. When the morning came, I began to doubt whether my wakefulness had not been part of ray dream, and I had not dreamed the whole of my sup posed adventures. There was no sign of a lady's presence left in the room. How could there have been? By throwing the plaid which covered me aside, my hand was caught by a sin gle thread of something so fine that I could not see It till the light grew strong. I wound It round and round my finger, and doubted no longer. At breakfast there was no Lad) Alice—nor at dinner. I grew uneasy but what could I do? I soon learned that she was ill; and a weary fo-t night passed before 1 saw her again Mrs. Wilson told me that she had caught cold, and was confined to hei room. So I was ill at ease, not fron; love alone, but from anxiety as well Every night I crept up through th< deserted bouse to the stair where sh« had vanished, and there sat in tht darkness, or groped and peered about for some sign. But I saw no light even, and did not know where hei room was. It might be far beyond this extremity of my knowledge; fot 1 discovered no indication of the prox imity of the inhabited portion of thq house. Mrs. Wilson said there waa rothing serious the matter; but this did not satisfy me. for I imagined something mysterious in the way in which she spoke. As the days went on, and she did not appear, my soul began to droop within me; my intellect seemed al>out to desert me altogether. In vain I tried to read. Nothing could fix my attention. I read and re-read the same page; but although I understood every word as I read, I found, when I came to a pause, that there lingered in my mind no palest notion of the idea. II was Just what one experiences in at tempting to read when half asleep. But although my thoughts were thus beyond my control, my duties were not altogether irksone to me. I re membered that they kept me neat her; and although I could not learn, I found that I could teach a little. I continued my work in the library, although it did not advance with the same steadiness as before. That same day, I remember well, Mrs. Wilson told me that Lady Alice was much better. But as days passed, and still she did not make her ap pearance, my anxiety only changed its object, and I feared that it waa from aversion to me that she did not join the family. But her name was never mentioned in my hearing by any of the other members of it; and her absence appeared to be to them a matter of no moment or interest. One night, as I sat in my room, 1 found, as usual, that it was impos sible to read; and throwing the book aside, relapsed into that sphere of thought which now filled my soul, and had for its center the Lady Alice. I recalled her form as sue lay on the couch, and brooded over the remem brance till a longing to see her, al most unbearable, arose within me. "Would to Heaven," I said to my. self, "that will were power!" In this concurrence of idleness, dis traction, and vehement desire, I found an at once, without any forgone reso lution, that I was concentrating and intensifying within me, until it rose almost to a command, the operative volition that Lady Alice should coma to me. In a moment more I trembled at the sense of a new I>ower which sprung into conscious being within me. I had had no prevision of its ex istence, wnen I gave way to such ex travagant and apparently helpless wishes. I now actually awaited the fulfilment of my desire; but in a con dition ill-fltted to receive It, for tho effort had already exhausted me to such a degree that every nerve was in a conscious tremor. Nor had I long to wait. I heard no sound of approach; tho closet-door folded back, and in glided open-eyed, but sightless, pale as death, and clad in white, ghostly-pure and saint-like, the Lady Alice. I shuddered from head to foot at what 1 had done. She was more terrible to me in that moment than any pale eyed ghost could have been. For had I not exercised a kind of necromantic art, and roused without waking the slumbering dead? She passed me, walking round the table at which I was seated, went to. the couch, laid herself down with a maidenly care, turned a little on one side, with her face toward me, and gradually closed her eyes. In something deeper than sleep she lay, and yet not in death. I rose, and once more knelt beside her, but dared not touch her. In what far realms of life might the lovely soul be straying! What mysterious modes of being might now be the homely surroundings of her second life! Thoughts unutterable rose in me. culminated, and sunk, like the stars of heaven, as I gazed on the present symbol of an absent life—a life that I loved by means of the sym bol; a symbol that I loved because of the life. How long she lay thus, how long I gazed upon her thus, I do not know. Gradually, but without my being able to distinguish the gradations, her countenance altered to that of one who sleeps. But the change did not end there. A color, faint as the blush In the center of a white rose, tinged her lips and deepened; then her cheek began to share in the hue, then her brow and her neck. The color was that of the cloud which, the furthest from the sunset, yet acknowledges the rosy atmosphere. I watched, as it were, the dawn of a 60ul on the hori zon of the visible. The first approach es of its far-off flight were manifest; and as I watched, I saw it come nearer and nearer, till Its great, silent, speed ing pinions were folded, and It looked forth, a calm, beautiful, infinite wo man, from the face and form sleeping before me. I knew that she was awake, some moments before she opened her eyes. When at last those depths of darkness disclosed themselves, slowly uplifting their whlto cloudy portals, the same consternation she bad formerly mani fested, accompanltd by yet greater aDger, followed. "Yet again! An I your slave, be cause I am woakf" She rose in the majesty of wrath, and moved toward the door. "Lady Alice, i h*Te not touched you I am to blame, but not as you think (Jould I help loaging to see you And if the longing passed, ere I wai aware, into a will that you shouli come, and you obeyed It, forgive me. I hid my face in my hands, over come by conflicting emotions. A kinf of stupor came over me. When lifted my head, she was standing bj the closet-door. "I have waited," Bhe said, "to mak< BUTLER, PA., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 17, IH<B a request of you." "Do not utter It. Lady Alice. know what It Is. 1 give you my wore —my solemn promise, if you like—tha I will never do it again." Shi thanked me, with a smile and van Ished. Much to my surprise, she appearet at dinner the next day. No notice wat tanen of her. except by the younger oi my pupils, who called out: * -nalio. Alice'. Are you down?" She smiled and nodded, but ilid no speak. Everything went on as usual 'there was no change in her behavior except in one point. I ventured th« experiment of paying ner some ordi nary enough attention. She thankee me, without a trace of the scornful ex pression 1 all but expected to see up on her beautiful face. But when ! addressed «.er about the wea her, oi something equally interesting. sh< made no reply; and Lady Hilton gavt me a stare, as much as to say Don't you know it is of no use to tall to her?" Alice saw the look, and coloring to the eyes, rose, and left the room. When che had go e. Lady Hilton said to me: "Don't speak to her. Mr. Campbell ir distresses her. She is very peculiar yon know." She could not uide the seoru and dislike with which she spoK( and 1 could not help saying to myself, "What a different thing scorn looks on yout face. Lady Hilton!" for it made het positively and hatefully ugly for the moment—to my eyes, at .cast. After this, Alice sat down with us at all our meals, and seemed tolerably well. But, in some indescribable way, she was quite a different person from the Lady Alice who had twice awaked in my presence. To use a parase com mon in describing one of weak intel lect—she never seemed to be all there There was something automatical in her movements; and a sort of frozen indifference was the prevailing expres sion of her countenance. When slio smiled, a sweet light shone in hei eyes, and she looked for the moment Like the Lady Alice of my nightly dreams. But, altogether, the Lady Alice of the night, and the Lady Alice of the day, were two distinct persons; I believed that the former was the real one. What nights I had now. watching and striving lest unawares I should fail into the exercise of my new pow er! I allowed myself to think of her as much as I pleased during the day time, or at least as much as I dared; for when occupied with my pupils. I dreaded lest any abstraction should even hint that I had a thought to con ceal. I knew that I could not hurt her then; for that only in the night did she enter that state of existence in which my will could exercise au thority over her. But at night, at night, when I knew she lay there, and might be lying here; when but a thought would bring her. and that thought was fluttering its wings, ready to spring awake out of the dreams of my heart—then the struggle was fear ful. And what added force to the temptation was, that to call her to me ii\ the night seemed like calling the real immortal Alice forth from the tomb in which she wandered about all day. It was as painful to me to see her such in the day, as It was en trancing to remember her such as I nad seen her in the night. What mat ter if her true self came lorth in au ger against me? What was I? It was enough for my life, I said, to look on her, such as she really was. "Bring her yet once, and tell her all —tell her how madly, hopelessly you love her. She will forgive you at least," said a voice within me. But 1 heard it as the voice oi the tempter, and kept down Che thought which, might have grown to the will. CHAPTKB XI. A NEW PLPIL. One day, exactly three weeks after her last visit to my room, as I was sitting with my three pupils in the school room, Lady Alice entered, and began to look on the book shelves as if she wanted some volume. After a few moments she turned, and, ap proaching the table, said to me, in au abrupt, yet hesitating way: "Mr. Campbell, T cannot spell. How am I to learn?" I thought for a moment and replied: "Copy a passage every day. Lady Al ice, from some favorite book. Then if you will allow me, I shall be most happy to point out any mistakes you may have made." "Thaim you, flr. Campbell, I will; but I am afraid you will despise me when you find how badly I spell." "There is no fear of that," I replied. "It Is a mere peculiarity. So long as one can think well, spelling is alto gether secondary." "Thank you, I will try," she said, and left the room. Next day she brought me an old bal lad, written tolerably, but in a school girl's hand. She had copied the an tique spelling letter for letter. "This is quite correct," I said; "but to copy such as this will not teach you properly; for It Is very old, and con sequently old fashioned." "Is it old? Don't we spell like that now? You see Ido not know anything about It. You most set me a task, then." Thfi I undertook with more pleas ure than I dared to show. Every day she brought me the appointed exercise, written with a steadily improving hand. To my suip/ise 1 never fourd a single error in tne spelling. Of course, when advancing 8 step in the process, I made her write from my dictation, she did make blunders, but not so many as I had expected; and she seldom repeated one after correc tion. This new association gave me many opportunities of dc-iug more foi her than merely teaching her to speii We talked about what she copied, and I had to explain. 1 also told her about the writers. Soon she expressed a de sire to know something about figures. We commenced arithmetic. I propos ed geometry along with It and found the latter especially fitted to her pow ers. One by one we included several other necessary branches, and ere long 1 had four around the school room ta ble, equally my pupils. Whether the attempts previously made to instruct her had been Insufficient or misdirect ed, or whether her intellectual powers hud commenced a fresh growth, I could not tell, but 1 leaned to the lat ter conclusion, especially after I be gan to observe t"iat her peculiar re marks hSTI become modified iu form though without losing any of their originality. The uneartliliness of her beauty likewise disappeared, a slight color displacing the almost marble whiteness of her cheek. Long before Lady Alice had made this progress, my iilghtly struggles be gan to diminish in violence. They had now entirely ceased. The temptation had left me. I felt certain that foi weeks she had never walked In liet sleep. She was beyond my power and I was glad of it. I was ,of course, most careful of mj behavior during nil this period. 1 strove to pay l.aily Alice no more a. tentlon than I paid to th» re»v of uiy pupils; and I cannot #elp thinking that 1 succeeded. But now and then. ID the midst of some instruction I was giving Lady Alice, 1 caught the eye of Lady Lucy, a sharp, common mind ed girl, fixed upon one or the other of us with an Inquisitive, vulgar ex presslon which 1 did not like. This made me more careful still. I watch ed my tones, to keep them even, and free from any expression of the feel ing of which my heart was full. Sometimes, however, 1 could not help revealing the gratification 1 felt when she made some marvelous remark marvelous I mean, in relation to her other attainments; such a remark as a child will sometimes make, showing that he has already mastered, through his earnest simplicity, some question that has for ages perplexed the wise and the prudent. On one of these oc easions I found the cat eyes of Lady Lucy glittering on me. I turned away; not, 1 fe : ar, without showing some displeasure. Whether It was from Lady Lucy's evil report, or that the change in Lady Alice's habits and appearance had attracted the attention of Lady Hilton, 1 cannot tell; but one morning she appeared at the door of the study | and called her. Alice rose and went, with a slight gesture of impa tience. In a few minutes she returned looking angry and determined, and re sumed uer seat. But whatever it was that had passed between them, it had destroyed that Quiet flow of the feel ings which was necessary to the working of her thoughts. In vain she tried: she could do nothing correctly. At last she burst Into tears and left the room. I was almo9t beside my i self with distress and apprehension She did not return that day. Next morning she entered at the usual hour, looking composed, but | paler than of late, and showing signs of recent weeping. When we were all seated, and had Just commenced oni work. I happened to look up. and caught her eyes Intently fixed upon me. They dropped Instantly, but wi'ho'i 1 any appearance of confusion She went on with her arithmetic, and succeeded tolerably. Hut this respite was to be of short duration. Lad> Hilton again entered and called her. She rose angrily, and my quick car caught the half-uttered words, "That woman will make an Idiot cf un again." She did not return; and ne> er from that hour resumed her place in the school room. The time passed heavily. At dinner she looked proud and constraiued. and spoke only in monosyllables. For two days 1 scarcely saw her But the third day. as I was busy in the library, she entered. "Can I help you, Mr. Campbell." she said. 1 glanced involuntarily towards tin door. "Lady Hilton is not at home," she replied to my look, while a curl of indignation contended with a sweet tremor of shame for the possession of her lip. "Let me help you." "You will help me best if you will sing that ballad I heard you singing just before you came In. I nerer heard you sing before." "Didn't vou? I don't think I ever did sing before." "Sing It again, will you please?" "It is only two verses. My old Scotch nurse used to sing It when I was a little girl—oh, so long ago! 1 didn't know I could 6lng It." She begaD without more ado, stand ing in the middle of the room, with her back toward tfce door: "Annie was dowie, an' Willie was wae; What can be the matter wi' tlccan a twae7 For Annie* was bonnle't the flrst o" the day. And Willie was Strang an' honest an' gay- "Oh. the tane had a daddy was poor an' was proud: An the tlther a rnlnnle that cared fo' the gowd. They lo'ed ane anittaer, an' aald their say- But the daddy at minnie hae pairtli the twac." Just as she finished the song. I saw the sharp eyes of Lady Lucy peeping in at the door. "Lady Lucy is watching at the door, Lady Alice," 1 said. "I don't care." she answered; but turned with a flush on her face, and stepped noiselessly to the door. "There is no one then?," she said, returning. "There was. though," I answered. "They want to drive me mad," she cried, and hurried from the room. The next day but one, she came again with the same request. But she had not been a minute in the li brary before Lady Hilton came to thi door and called her in angry tones. "Presently." replied Alice, and re malned where she was. "Do go. Lady Alice," I said. "Thej will send me away if you refuse." She blushed scarlet, and went with out another word. She came no more to the library. CHAPTER XII. (o>> K9HION. Day followed day. the one the child of the other. Alice's old paleness and unearthly look began to reappear; and. strange to tell, my midnight temptation revived. After a time shy ceased to dine with us again, and fo: days I never saw her. It was the old story of suffering with me. only moru intense than before. The day was dreary, and the night stormy. "Call her." said my heart; but my con science resisted. I was lying on the floor of my room one midnight, with my face to the ground, when suddenly I heard a low. sweet, strango voice singing some where. The moment I became aware that I heard It, I felt as if I had beeu listening to it unconsciously for some minutes past. I lay still, either charmed to stillness, or fearful of breaking the spell. As I lay, I was lapped in the folds of a waking dream. I was in bed In a castle, on the sea shore; the wind come from the sea in chill eerie soughs, and the waves fell with a tlireatful tone upon the beach muttering many maledictions as they rushed up, and whispering cruel portents as they drew back, hissing and gurgling, through the mil lion narrow ways of the pebbly ram parts; and I knew that a maiden in white was standing in the cold wind, by the angry sea singing. I had a kind of dreamy belief in my dream: but. overpowered by the spell of the music, 1 lay and listened. Keener and stronger, under the impulses of my will, grew the power of my hear ing. At last I could distinguish the words. The ballad was "Annie of Lochroyan;" and Lndy Alice was sing ing it. The words 1 heard were these: ' Oh. gin I had a bonny ship, And men to sail wi* me. It's I wad gang to my true lore, Sin' he winna come to me. "Lane stood she at her true lore's door, And lang tirled at the pin: At length up gat his fause mother, Says. 'Wha's that wad be in?' • «•••• "I.ove Gregory started frae his sleep. And to his mother did say: 'I dreamed a dream this night, mither. That makes my heart right wae. " 'I dreamed that Annie of Loehroyan. The flower of a' her kin. Was standing mournin' at my door. But nane wad let her in.' " 1 sprung to my feet, and opened the hidden door. There she stood, white, asleep, with closed eyes, singing like a bird, only with a heartful of sad meaning in every tone. I stepped aside, without speaking, and she passed me into the room. I closed the door, and followed her. She lay al ready upon the couch, still and rest ful—already covered with my plaid I sat down beside her. waiting: and gazed upon her in wonderment. That she was possessed of very superior in tellectual powers, whatever might be the cause of their having lain dormant so long. 1 had already fully convinced myself: but I was not prepared to find art as well as Intellect. I had already heard her sing the little song of two verses, which she had learned from her nurse. But here «vas a song, of her own making as to the music, so true and so potent, that, before I knew anything of the words, it had surrounded me with a dream of the place in which the scene of the ballad was laid. It did not then occur to me that, perhaps, our Idiosyncrasies wen such as not to require, even the music of the ballad for the production of rapport between our minds, the brain of the one generating in the brain of the other, the vision present to itself. I sat and thought: Some obstrueton in the gateways, outward, prevented her, in her waking hours, from utter ing herself at all. This obstruction, damming back upon their sources the outgoings of life, threw her into this abnormal sleep. In It the impulse to utterance, still unsatisfied, so within her unable, yet compliaur form, that she could not rest, but rose and walked. And now, a fresh surge from the sea of her unknown being, unre pressed by the hitherto of the'objeets of sense, had burst the gates and bars, swept the obstructions from Its chan nel. and poured from her In melodious song. The first green lobes, at least of these thoughts, appeared above the soil it my mind, while I sat and gazed on the sleeping girl. And now I had once more the delight of watching a spirit dawn, a soul rise. In that lovely form. The light flushing of Its pallid sky was, as before, the first sign. I dreaded the flash of lovely flame, and the out burst of regnant ,iuger. ere I should have time to say -hat I was not to blame. But when, at length, the full dnwn, the slow sr iriae came, it was with all the gentl- ness of a cloudy .summer morn. Kwer did a more ce lestial rosy red harg about the skirts of the level sun, 1 ban deepened and glowed upon her fj.ee, when, opening her eyes, she saw rie beside her. She covered her face w th her hands; and instead of the words of indignant re proach which I ha I dreaded to hear, she mui mured behind the snowy screen, "I am glad you have broken your promise." My heart gave a bound and was still. I grew faint vith delight. "No," I said: "I have not broken my prom ise. Lady Alice; I li ive struggled near ly to madness to k ;ep it—and I have kept it" "I have come theti of myself. Worse and worse! But it is their fault!" Tears now found their way througli the repressing tinpers. I could not endure to see her weep. I kneeled be side her, and whl« she still covered her face with her l ands, I said—l do not know what I said. They were wild. and. doubtless. foolish words i i themselves, but thry must have been wise and true in th'iir meaning. When I ceased, I knew that I had ceased only by the great silence around me. I was still holding h-»r hands. Slowly she withdrew them. It was as when the sun breaks forta on a cloudy day. The winter was over and gone; the time of the singing of birds had come. She smiled on me through her tears and heart met heart In the light of that smile. She rose to go and I begged for no delay. I only stood with clasped hands, gazing at her. She turned at the door, and said: "I dare say 1 shall come again; I am afraid I cannot help it; oulv mind you do not wake me." Before I could reply I was alone: and I felt that I must not follow her. CHAPTER XIII. QUESTIONING. I laid myself on the couch she had left, but not to sleep. A new pulse of life, stronger than I could bear, was throbbing within me. I dreaded a fever, lest I should talk in it, and drop the clew to my secret treasure. But the light of the morning stilled me, and a bath in ice-cold water made me strong again. Yet I felt all that day as if I were dying a delicious death and going to a yet more exquisite life. As far as I might, however, I repress ed all indications of my delight; and endeavored, for the sake both of duty and prudence, to be as attentive to my pupils and their studies as it was possible for man to be. This helped to keep me in my right mind. But, more than all my efforts at exposure, the pain which, as far as my experience goes, invariably accompanied, and sometimes even usurps, the place of the pleasure which gave it birth, was efficacious in keeping me sane. Night came, but brought no Lady Alice. It was a week before 1 saw her again. Her heart had been stilled, and she was able to sleep aright. But seven nights after, she did come. I waited her awaking, possesseu with one painful thought, which I longed to impart to her. She awoke with a smile, covered her face for a moment, but only for u moment, and then sa: up. 1 stood before her, and the first words I spoke were.— "Lady Alice, ought I not to go?" "No," she replied at once. "I can claim some compensation from them for the wrong they have been doing me. Do you know In what relation I stand to Lord and Lady Hilton? They are but my step-mother and her hus band." "I know that." "Well, I have a fortune of my own, about which 1 never thought or cared —till—till—within the last few weeks. lA>nl Hilton is my guardian. Whether they made me the stupid creature I was, I do not know; but I believe they have represented me as far worse than I was. to keep people from making my acquaintance. They prevented me go ing on with my lessons, because I was getting to understand things and grow like other people, nnd that would not suit their purposes It would be false dcllcac)' In |«u to leave o« to t&tlQ, when you ran make up to mo for their ; injustice. Their behavior to me takes ! away auy right they had over me. and ' frees you from your obligation, be j cause I am yours. Am I not?" j Once more she covered her face with her hands. I could answer only , by withdrawing one of them, which I was now emboldened to hold in my I own. I was very willingly persuaded to what was so much in my own desire. But whether the reasoning was quite just or not, I am not yet sure. Per haps it might be so for her. and yet not for me. I do not know; I am a poor casuist. She resumed, laying her other hand upon mine: "It would be to tell the soul which you have called forth, to go back into its dark moaning cavern, and never more come out to the light of day." llow could I resist this. A long pause ensued. "It is strange," she said, at length, "to feel, when I lie down at night, that I may awake in your presence, without knowing how. It Is strange, too. that, although I should be utterly ashamed to come wittingly, I feel no confusion when I find myself here. When I feel myself coming awake, I lie for a little while with m.v eyes closed, wondering and hoping, and afraid to open them, lest I should And myself only In my own chamber: shrinking n little, too—just a little— from the first glance into your face." "But when you awake, do you know nothing of what has taken place In your sleep?" "Nothing whatever." Have you no vague sensations, no haunting shadows, no dim, ghostly moods, seeming to belong to that con dition, left?" "None whatever." Sue rose, said "Good-night," and left me. CUAFTER XIV. JEALOUSY. Again 6even days passed before she revisited me. Inded, her visits had always .°n interval of seven days, or a multiple of seven between. Since the last, a maddening jealousy had seized me. For, returning front those unknown regions into which her soul had wandered away, and where she had stayed for hours, did she not sometimes awake with a smile? How could I be sure that she did not lead two distinct existences?—that she had not some loving s;>irit, or man, who, like her, had for a time left the body beliind—who was Jill in all to her in that region, and whom she forgot when she forsook !t, as she forgot me when she entered il? It was a thought I could not brook. Bu,t I put aside its persistence as well as I could till she should come igaln. For this I waited. I could rot now endure the thought of compel'ing the attendance of her .unconscious form; of making her body, like a lhlng cage, transport to my presence the unresisting soul. I shrunk from It, as a true man would shrink from kissing the lips of a sleep ing woman whom he loved, not know ing that she lovejl him in return. It may well be said that to follow such a doubt was to inquire too curi ously: but once tho thm»ghi had bo gun, and grown, and been born, how was I to slay the monster and be free of its hated presence? Was its truth not a possibility? Yet how could even she help me, for she knew nothing of the matter? How could she vouch for the unknown? What news can the serene face of the moon, ever the same to us, give of the hidden half of herself turned eter toward what seemed to us but the blind abysmal darkness, which yet has its own light and Its own life? All I could hope for was to see her, to tell her, to be com forted at least by her smile. My saving angel glided blind into my room, lay down upon her bier and awaited the resurrection. I sat and awaited mine, panting to untwine from my heart the cold death worm that twisted around it, yet picturing to myself the glow- of love on the averted face of the beautiful spirit—averted from me, and bending on a radiant companion all the light withdrawn from the lovely form beside me. That light began to return. "She is com ing, she Is coming!" I said within me. "Back from its glowing south travels the sun of my spring, the glory of my summer." Floatirg slowly up from the infinite depths of Eer being, came the unconscious woman: up—up from the realms of stillness lying deeper than the plummet of self knowledge can sound; up from the formless, up Into the known, up into the material, up to the windows that look forth on the embodied mysteries around. Her eyelids rose. One look of love all but slew my fear. When I told her my grief, she answered with a smile of pity, yet half of disdain at the thought. "If ever I find It so, I will kill my self there, thaj. I may go to my Hades with you. But if I am dreaming of another, tow is It that I always rise In my vision and come to you? You will go crazy if you fancy such foolish things." she added, with a smile of reproof. The spectral thought vanished and I was free. "Shall I tell you," she resumed, cov ering her face with ner hands, "why I behaved so proudly to you, from the very first day you entered the house? It was because, when I passed you on the lawn, before you entered the house. I felt a strange, undefinable at traction toward you, which continued, although I could not account for If and would not yield to it. I was heartily annoyed at it. Hut you see It was of no use —here I am. That was whai made me so fierce, too. when I first found myself in your room." It was Indeed long before she came to my room again. [TO HE COSXIXCED.] The Attentive Llitemr, The eminent exhorter came down roni the pulpit at the close of the ■ervice. Many people pressed for vard to shake him by the hand, lie iccepted their congratulations with a -miling face, but his eyes were on a •ertain auditor who lingered in the tisle. The great preacher pressed hrotigh the throng about him und ex. ended his hand to the waiting man. "I want to thank you," he said in lis deep musical tones, "for the close ttention you gave my remarks, lour ipturned face was inspiration to me. am sure you never changed your arnest attitude during my sermon." "No," said the man, "I nave a stifl teck." A Wonderful Woiuin. Blikins—"My wife useu 10 be rather 'oolish. but she's oue of the most calm ind sensible women in this town low. Why, say, do you know what die did yesterday?" Orcutt—"No; what?" Bllklns—"Saw a telegraph boy com ng across the street toward our house tnd uever fainted or hollered that ■he knew "something had happened .o uiaxuuju!" No. 43 THE WOMEN'S CONVENTION. One Eliltrljr Gentleman Thought He ffm Their RMIUIII for Holding It. The women of the strong minds were al»out to hold a convention, and is a preliminary thereto a committee was moving around among the down :own business men collecting funds to assist in the ceremonies. The com mittee had been to a lot of places and had met with very fair success, not withstanding there wasn't a good looking woman in the entire combin ation, which shows how much men think of woman for herself alone than for her beauty, which Is so evanish ing. However, at one place it was differ jnt. and the women were treated In i manner to make them feel as if they .vould almost rather not be men at all than to be the kind of men this par ticular man was. It happened in the office of an el lerly gentleman, who has no patience whatever with the uian-lady kind of woman, and he was sitting In his private 01. .. v. '■ :i th~ delegation ar •iv< <1 iu the outer room. »>ne of the members very brietlv stated the ob ject of their visit to the clerk at the 3esk. "And may I inquire." said the clerk politely, for lie « a kindly man and wouldn't anything in the world to In ; i ••uyUouy's feelings, 'why are yew to hold a conven tion?" Just as like as not the man had a wife at home and he wanted to tell her aboot It, but before the commit tee had an opportunity to reply the Elderly gentleman's rasping voice was heard rising high over the partition Separating the two offices. "I'll tell you why," came the words, "it's because they haven't got any .* oabies to hold. Tell 'em so, with my sompliments, and say tnat we give nothing to the cause of perverted pet ticoatism." A Con rernat tonal Subterfuge. "No, sir," said the man with a heavy nustache and a slouch nat. "I don't iver associate with a man who iwears; that is, if I can help It." "But I thought you were an old ■anchman," said the young man to vhom he was talking. "So I am. But I ain't one of the ilnd vou read about. I'm too busy alsin' cattle to spend my time think n' up curious and amusin' things to iay." "But I thought there was always a ,-reat deal of profanity on a ranch." "Not necessarily. You'll only find It vhen some special people is talkin'. Vn\ as I said, 1 never hang around vhere it's goin' on." "Well, there is no doubt about the >ropriety of discouraging it. Pro anity is unquestionably very demoral zing." "Yes. An' the meanness of it is vhat hurts my feelin's. It doesn't five the other feller a fair shake In he conversation. The one that uses t always wants to do all the talkin*. in' there's no use in tryln' to buck tgainst him. If he happens to run nit Af lie docon*l give Ton —a •hance. ne goes ahead and swears a 'ew while he thinks up some more and ben starts in where he left off With mt lettin' you say a word." The Governor'! Prayer. "Well." said the Governor of Uanlla, "if this Is a Pacltn squadron, heaven preserve us from their quarrelsome one." HELPING ABOUT THE HOUSE Bare Is One Man Who Bad About tht Right Ideas. The helpfulness of a good man, when it comes to assistance in domes tic affairs, is apt to be very much like that of Mr. Barker,, whose ex ploit Is narrated below:— His wife had asked him to hang a picture she had purchased for the parlor, and he had said that he would do it "in a Jiffy." "You just get me the cord and a picture hook," he said to his wife, "and tell the servant girl to run down cellar and bring up the stepladder and carry it into the parlor; and Where's those two little screw tblng a-ma-jigs that go Into the back of the frame at the sides to pnt the cord through? Look them up ror me; and I'll need the gimlet to bore a little bole for the screws. Somebody get the gimlet or maybe I can drive them In with the hammer. Johnny, you run down cellar and get the hammer. "I don't know but a chair will be bettor than the stepladder for me to stand on. Somebody go out Into the kitchen and get me a chair. 1 don't want to stand on one of the parlor chairs. "Got that cord? Jnst measure off about the right length and fasten It In those little tilings at the side. "There, now, there's your picture, all hung up In good shape, and no fuss about it. The difference between us men and you women is that when we have anything to do we go right ahead and do It, and make no talk about It."—Youth's Companion. A <»nntl Definition. To confuse a witness is generally an easy task and lawyers know no easier way than to make a witness explain the meaning of his words, knowing that very few people can do so with out getting excited. Occasionally, a victim resents nagging and auswers In a spirited and unexpected mauuer. A lawyer was cross examining a young girl of rather haughty teni|>er. She had testified that sue had seen the defendant "shy" a book at the plaintiff, and the lawyer had seized »n the word. "Shj shy a book ? What do you mean by that? Will you explain to :be <ourt what the word "shy' means?" The girl leaned i-ver tne desk be neath the witness box. picked uu a aw btinii and threw It af the lawyer's head, iviio dodged Just in time. "1 ibltik the court now understands the meaning of the word "shy.'" said tlie Judge, gravely, and the girl was allowed to finish hi r testimony with out further interruption.—Tit-Bits. Int«-rpre'e<t Too Literally. AI a church sociable given In East port by the young people, a young couple who enjoyed each other's company tuuch, were seated at a sum II table, enjoying the refresh ments Near rliom was a vacant cbair and ns tin- minister of the church was pnaxiuK. the young man asked him to Join them at the table, ibe pastor WUM taken somewhat by surprise at the reyuest, but reached for his good book" and began reading the marriage ceremony In a loud voice. It was several minutes before the affair was satisfactorily explalned. es p«-«-lnlly to the young lady, but the (parting? did not take place at that tliii» aud the yoi - man will be more cainluua In CU.» iulure in lUB CO ■ >n>arta» .
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