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» .