VOL- xxxvi CLEARANCE SALE. Our new spring stock is arriving daily and we still have on hands many winter goods which must be closed out ana closed out quickly. So to make a long story short the goods are youis at lass than one half their real value. In addition to our sale of winter shoes we will place on sale 1000 pairs Men's, Boys'and Youths' Sample Shots made of fine Russett Calf and Yici Kid in the latest styles which will be sold at a great reduction. READj IREAD: READ Men's fine Ruessett Calf shoes © fi.25 Men's fine Russett Vici Kid shoes C<t, 1.45 Boys' fine Russett Calf shoes &, 1.00 Ladies' fine Dong. Hand welt shoes ('• 2. 15 Ladies' fine Dongola Flexible sole shoes (g> 1.00 Men's solid working shoes 9° Boys' solid working shoes ("> 50 Ladies' waterproof Kaugaroo Calf shoes <» 90 Children's fine Dongola shoes, sizes 6 to 10 (u 50 Infants' soft sole shoes (» 20 And many other bargains. Just Recived a Big Shipment of SOROSIS Shoes. The New Shoes for Women. These are all new spring goons, on the latest style lasts, in fine Tans, Dongola and Patent Leather, in Leather or Vesting tops. Very Swell are Sorosis. Daintily hod Are They Who Wear Them. REPAIRING ® PROMPTLY ® DONE JOHN BICKEL. 128 SOUTH MAIN STREET BUTLER, PA. HUSELTON'S SHOES 3gfr| We're ready with some special lines —the comfort-giving sort that will afford you the needed protection. We'll sell them, too, with a slice of the original prices cut off; a big saving is what you may expect. Every shoe from our regular stock and fully guaranteed. The Best Shoes in Butler. SCHOOL I Vor the Boys HEAVY | For ; he SHOES ) Girls. SHOES] Gr ° W people. FINE | For any FELTS A / For Men , SHOES/ them! or OVERS \ ™Ly S . ShowS'lT 1 Shoe Values, That are: bound to be the pride of the whole county. A cordial in vitation is extended t ) all to visit our store. You will be mide wel come whe her you buy or not. Glad to show what we have. Some little shoe venders think all they have to do is to get all the worthless trash tlu;y can, no matter what, so they can fix a low price, then blow their little tin horn and the people will hurry to them by the hundreds They will find that a little later it will take a trumpet equal to Gabriel's to make the people hearken unto their lamentations. The people don't want to buy two pairs at once— one to go home with, another pair to come back with. B. C. HUSELTON'S, Stutter's Leading Shoe House. Opposite Hotel Lowry. :; < | Won't buy clothing for the purpose of spending money. They i I . . desire to get the best possible results for the money expended. / I . ' ' Not cheap goods but goods as cheat) as can lie sold and made up | i ► properly. Call and examine my large stock of < > < > SPRING SUITINGS. < ► 1 > Right up to date, the latest styles, shades and colors that could < > , . be bought. Call and examine them. .' . , ( Fits and Workmanship Guaranteed. {', !: G. F. K6CK, I * 142 North Main Street, Butler, Pa. V HE IS A WISE HAN \ # —WHO SECURES HIS CLOTH INO FROM— # \ J. S. YOUNG, t ? THE MERCHANT TAILOR, 4 j Tin- kwxlh, style, lit ami general make # 2 up of his suits A t TELL their own STORY J Knowledge | Concentrated I ,£>3 ... boiled down, pressed to- < j | gether is what you get in j dSaEp A the New Werner Edition ') Jgr/tt / of the ENCYCLOPEDIA < ; W J//i\\/«'i BRITANNICA. The facts j contained therein are reii- 1 i 'Ulta able, the statements author- ; > W ' tat ' ve * The index which j i lS accompanies each set of ; < books enables you to find ; !; —\ the information you want | ; — 1 quickly, and you can rely ; ! upon it, for even the courts do not question its state- ' j ments. You can secure the entire set, complete in ; thirty superb octavo volumes, of the Encyclopedia Britannica *; for One Dollar Cash / and the balance in small monthly payments. < ) FOR SALE BY i J. H. DOUGLASS, BUTLER P A Subscribe for the CITIZEN. Sute Library jul/M | THE BUTLER CITIZEN. Heat/ache Is often a warning that the liver is torpid or inactive. Wore serious troubles may follow. For a prompt, efficient cure of Headache and all liver troubles, take ; Hood's Pills : While they rouse the liver, restore full, regular action of the bowels, they do not gripe or pain, do not i irritate or inflame the internal organs, ' but have a positive tonic effect. 25c. at all druseists or by mail of 5 • j c. I. Hood <fc Co., Lowell, Mass. Pianos. W- R NEWTON, Representing The Chickering-Chase Bros. Co. Manufacturers of Grand and Upright Pianos AND Farrand & Votey Organ Co.. Manufactures of Organs. Can save you money in the purchase of a FIRST CLASS Instrument. Call and examine them at the ware room, 317 South Main St., Butler, Pa. TERMS: Cash or easy payments to J suit purchaser. YOUR SUIT May seem dear at the stari, and prove remarkably cheap befo.e you've worn it out. It's the long time satisfaction you get from it that decides the superiority of our make. It does pay to buy good clothes. Our fall display is of the kind you would expect to find only in the targ cities. ALAND, MAKER OF MEN'S LOTHES Li-' r~. oJV(% fo Call fo 14m '' I® i[® H- -J- He Understood After tlicy hit him. It don't re quire any bricks to make you understand that it is money in your pocket in dealing with us. This comes from the fact that we sell only reliable goods at a low price, buying direct from the manufactures, saving the middle profit to you. Many bargains to offer now. Ed. Colbert, Fomerly Colbert & Dale, 242 S. Main St., Butler, I'a. Braun's Pharmacy, Cor. 6th St. and Duquesne Way. Pittsburg, Pa,, L, D. Telephone 2542. Wholesale and Retail. Importer andjobberof Drugs, Chemicals, Perfumes, Soaps, Brushes, Etc. The only house west of New York carrying a full line 01 Meyers' Grease, Paints and theatrical goods. Physicians' Prescriptions Compounded Day or Night by "Registered Pharmacists" only. . Wholesale and retail dealer in Lubricating and Illuminating Oils, Capital Cylinder, Dynamo, Water White and Standard Gas Engine Oils, Gasolein, Ben zine, Paraffine Wax and Petrolatum. Address all mail orders to W. F. Braun. COCOA I PURE ! HEALTHFUL !! a THE CITY. She stands, with her stony beaches Just touched by old Ocean's arm. For Islands fair are sentinels there To guard her coasts from harm. She stretches the tcrch of freedom Toward the Old World from the New, And her towers rise to as cloudless skies As are mirrored in Ocean's blue. She feels the pulse of the nation. She knows the great of the land. For they love the strife of the throbbing life In the hollow of her hand. The weary and broken-hearted Plead In her arms to rest; The wretched hide in her mantle wide. And the suffering in her breast. Though forests be grand and silent— Though fields be wide and sweet— Her children learn for her voice to yearn. And the tramp of her restless feet. She stands, with her stony beaches Embraced by old Ocean's arm. Through the noise and light—through the smoldering night, In a tide of unending charm. —Elizabeth Dyke Lewis, in N. T. Independ ent. ♦ THE STRANGE STORY OP A BOX 1 By Constance C. Hulkett j I WAS sitting by my library fire one evening, smoking. when my man servant informed me that a large box had arrived. 1 suddenly remembered that it was mj birthday, and that I had casually mentioned the fact to my friend Brindle. Now Brindle was much addicted to the playing of practical jokes (this to me was a flaw in an otherwise delight ful character), and perhaps ou this occasion I might be the victim, so I told the man to help me carry it into the li brary and then he might go. The box, which was a long and rather narrow one, was, I noticed, per forated in every direction. It was fas tened with a padlock, in which I found the key. I opened it and started back in umiu. liiout, for inside-it lay one of the most beautiful women it has ever been my 10l to see, and she was either asleep or dead. She v.as dressed in a long, trailing robe of violet velvet—what a woman would, I think describe as a "teagown the train of it made a sort of cushion for her head, and over it strayed long strands of golden hair. I fetched a mirror and held it to her lips; a faint cloud spread over it at once. She was not dead then, but sleeping. Yet —who sent her here? And why in such a plight? I had no women folk to apply to in my dilemma; besides, one's women folk are apt to look askance at "strangers" of their own sex, especially if these are very beautiful. I decided hurriedly to call my man Burns, a very excellent servant, who had been with me for years. And he ap peared with such celerity that a sus picion crossed my mind—but, no! sure ly he was above spying through key holes! I pointed to the girl, and asked him helplessly what I should do. "Do, sir? Why, send for the nearest doctor, and for a detective from Scot land Yard." "Of course!" I cried. "Why didn't I think of that mvtuUf? Tula«o»Kmul uo both errands —I will stay here ir. ca*o she awakes." He went off at once, ne hnd hardly been gone ten minutes when the door bell rang. I opened it myself and ad mitted a tall, thin man, who announced that a policeman had asked him to call at my house, and that his name was Dr. Smith, of M street. "A policeman—you meant my serv ant." "No, I don't. I mean a policeman," he said testily. "Where is the patient? I am a busy man, sir, and can't afford to waste time." Itather bewildered, I led the way to the library —and in a few words told him my story, and showed him the white figure lying so still and beautiful in those regal velvet robes. He crossed tlie room to look closer. "Good heavens!" he said. "It Is Mile. Sophie Setolagin, a Russian, lady and a patient of my own. What can this mean?" lie proceeded to investigate what would be the cause of her strange trance-like sleep. "She has been drugged," he said. "I once studied In Russia, and there they use a curiously smelling herb, for such purposes, diflieult to detect unless one is used to dealing with it." "All that is very interesting—to you," I said impatiently. "But: what oin Ito do?" "I win send you a nurse at once," he said. "Have you a spare room* GoodJ The nurse is a sensible woman, and will put the lady to bed and ask no ques tions except of a professional descrip tion. "Now, you must excuse me; I ouj watching a very interesting case. I will call aguin in the morning; mean while I can do nothing. No drug known acts on a patient under the influence of the oriei 1 mentioned; she will wake naturally In about 12 hours' time." And with that the doctor hurried away. The next person to arrive was the do tectivu (ids name was Holmes), to whom I repeated my story. He listened attentively, looked at Mile. Seslagln, but made no remark wortii relating, and presently went away, after giving me strict injunctions to allow no onii access to my strange guest but the nurse and the doctor. I prom ised to attend to his warning and showed him out myself to find ou the doorstep a comfortable, motherly-look ing nurse, who produced I)r. Smith's card, and into whose capable hands I put the management of affairs general ly with a sigh of relief, which sigh I repeated as the door of the "spare room" was shut between me and the still sleeping stranger. Only the long, coffin-like box was still in my study. Suddenly I caught sight of a piece o/ paper which had been pinned to the lid inside. On it was roughly sketched a ship, some waves, and a woman apparently drowning. What this could mean 1 could not guess. I was still puzzling over it when the door bell rang again. This tiuie a man stood there—he had evidently just stepped out of a close carriage which waited near the curb, and he wore an ulster with a high ool lar which almost concealed his face. "I have come," he said, "to retrieve a large box which was left here by mis take." "Then you have come to tlie wrong man, I said, boldly. "That box and its contents are in my care." As I spolie, to my surprise two po licemen sprang out of the shadow of a neighboring archway, and seized the man before he had time to turn round. "We were given a hint to keep an eye on this house, sir—by Mr. Holmes," one of them informed me shortly, before they marched off to tin nearest "hta tion" with their prisoner. I retreated indoors and waited do- BUTLER, THURSDAY, MARCH IG, 1809 velopments. Evidently I was in for a night of it, I thought grimly. And, indeed, I had only taken half a dozen pulls at my pipe when a four -wheeler drove up. Inside were Mr Holmes, the detective; two policemen, and my servant, Burns, with handcuffs on. "What does this mean?" I asked. The detective came into the house and shut the door—the cab drove off —and I mechanically followed him into the library. There he turned and faced-me. "It means," he said, "shortly, this: That your man servant is a member of a dangerous secret society of anarch ists. Mile. Seslagin (who is very rich) had bribed one of the younger mem bers to sell her some papers which con tained a clear and concise account of how to set about placing bombs in Westminster Abbey before the coming royal marriage—in order to blow up the whole royal party. "Once or twice lately Mile. Sesiagin's house has been broken into, not for pur poses of theft, but to find the missing papers, which she had copied and sent to the police, but kept the originals to put the anarchists off the scentandhelp the authorities to catch them all to gether. "Besides, she wanted to pretend she had not given information. She knew anarchists and their ways, and feared their vengeance. She little knew their skill. They contrived this very even ing to enter her house, drug her wine and (whiie all her servants wereat sup per) they put her into this box which they had got ready and carried her off. "The orders were to deliver the box at No. 1 Mortimer street. "By a curious coincidence there hap pens to be two Mortimtr streets, and the box was brought to the wrong or.e. SHE WAS EITHER ASLEEP OR DEAD. "The plan was (bad she been taken to the anarchist who lives in the other) to cross-examine her on the subject of these papers, and then she was to be taken out to sea and drowned. Dead men—and women—tell no tales." I handed him the paper I had found "Y'esi—that is the formal order for her death. I know their cipher well." "Aid—Burns?" I asked. "llow was it if be was 'in it' that he offered—nay, wcart —to fetch the doctor and you?" "He did neither. I sent a policeman for the doctor, and came of my own ac cord. Mile. Seslagin's house has been watched for the last week, for (unless she was in danger of her life) I made up my mind to wait and catch the whole *; -Xo, I .Mortimer street to-nichL line driver & njittaKO nas put me out rather in my calculations, for Burns had time to warn the others before 1 managed to'nab'him. However, I hope for better luck another time. Mean while, you have indirectly saved that poor lady's life." As he finished speaking I was busy writing. I handed him a check. "Thank you, sir; though really I am so plea.se~d at to-night's work I almost feel like refusing this." "Nomsense! I may need yon again. Good night." After that I was at last allowed to go to bed in peace. I was a bachelor of long years'stand ing, and quite unaccustomed to such doings and goings on. St ill—though I can't say that the events of that night were exactly pleas ant ones, I always In after years re membered it with something like grati tude, for that long, coffin-like box, which I thought held a practical joke, was the means of making the acquaint ance of the lady who afterward be-came my wife.—N. Y. Weekly. Snfp. Mickey the Mouse —Dere won't be no questions asked when I returns (lis watch fer de reward. Swipes—Why won't dere? Mickey—lt wuz a deaf and dumb man I pinched it from.—N V'. Journal. 1M TTIXG "IS FOOT IST IT. "Stupid affair, this, eh?" "Um." "Let's leave." "Can't. I'm giving the party, you know."—N. Y. Times. The Wii> of tlie World. A man will work to pile up wealth Through years of toiling f?rlm, And quick as he has got the dust. The world throws mud on hlitt. —Brooklyn Life. Two Opinion*. "Conversation is only the art of talk ing back." "Xot much; conversation is the art of getting somebody to listen to you." Chicago Record. They Oiitcht To. Larkin —I wonder why so many girls elope with coachmen? Gazzam —Under the impression thai they will make go nl grooms, I suppose. —llarlem Life. II IN Miss Sue—Come quick, doctor, broth er is hardly able to breathe. Dr. Kurenon —I'll soon stop that. N. Y. World. Iliiin't Care. "Young man, you'll spend yourdajs in the poorhou.se yet." "O, well, I sleep all day, anyhow."-- Indianapolis Journal. Itennon Knouuli. "Why did they operate on him for appendicitis?" "They wanted to find out what wn the matter with him," —I'uek. WHITE LILAC. She sent me a bottle of perfume to-day, 'Tis there on the dresser; "A bauble of vanity," "worthless," you say? \h, well, we'll not quarrel, for how could ! you know What dreams i: has brought from the sweet long- ago! She sent It. God bless her! i "The dead lor.? ago." I had foolishly said. 'Twas but an Illusion; K waft of this fragrance has widened the ! dead. And fanned lr.to flames "smoldered passions that slept j Till through my numbed pulses fierce cur rents have swept In wildest confusion. 'Tis strange that an odor, the breath of a flower, A ghost of lost gladness, 3hould carry me back to the white-lilac bower, > ~id pelt me with blossoms, and fill me I with bliss, ; And n lte my lips burn with the touch of a kiss— This surely Is madness 1 'Tis only a bottle of perfume, I know. That stands on my dresser; ! Then why all these dreams from the dear 1 long ago— This living In fancy ar.J folly again? | 'Tis only a bottle of perfume, but then She sent it, God bless her. ; S—Adell G. Welch. In Midland Monthly. Efie Mistake Occurred j Edmund Lyons IT WAS certainly a charming locality in which Dr. Suigmire's "Select Academy for Young Gentlemen" was situated, about a hundred miles from New York. The ground sloped gently from the house to the river, and in the I near background were high hills and lakes and valleys. The pupils' parents j who came from a distance were gen i erally very much attracted by the beauty of the scenery. There was another academy within a mile of us, but this, as the doorplate informed those who cared toknovv, was a "Young I-idies' Preparatory Semi nary." I don't believe any of the boys of Dr. Stagmire's school, with the single exception of myself, knew any of the inmates of Miss Dunning'# establish ment. My aequaintane-e with the good natured servant, Fanny Barnes, was tlue to our meeting at the post office in the village, where we were taking and receiving letters for the respective schools. One cloudy day in September my fa ther came to visit me at Dr. Stagmire's. He was called by business to California, and was to be away for three months. He asked for a half holiday, which was gladly granted, for Dr. Stagmire was seldom averse to allowing this little in dulgence to himself and his pupils. When he was going away my father placed a coin in my hand. "Dick, my boy," he said, "there is a ten-dollar gold piece. Don't be ex travagant with It, for I am not rich, but don't be stingy." I was not stingy. The jery next aft ernoon, Dr. Stagmire kindly consent ing, and even accompanying the proces sion, I went, followed by all my school mates, two abreast, to the only refresh ment saloon In the village, where we were furnished, ad libitum, with sand wiches and ice cream, while the non invited village boys scuffled with each other for the best places outside the .1 inerow 10 waxor I was a proud boy, indeed, when Dr. Stagmire condescended to eattwosand wiehes and a plate of cream at my expense, and yet a prouder one when, with my respected principal beside me, I again headed the long line of boys and inarched to the counter, where, some what ostentatiously, I fear, I threw down my coin. Then the fact was de veloped that the ten-dollar gold piece was a bad one. The procession on it* way back to the school was perhaps a little disor ganized. I, as heretofore, was In ad vance, with Dr. Stagmire l>«slde me, while my schoolmates followed, boil ing- over with very indifferently-sup pressed contempt. The good doctor had willingly paid my bill, and as we walked home he as» sured me that he had no doubt there was a mistake somewhere, which, :sooner or later, would be explained. The boys, I was sorry to find, took a difTt-reiit view of the .situation, and Tom Carroll, who was said to have the power of standing longer on one foot than any other of the pupils, remarked: "If Blanchard's father gave him a bat} ten-dollar piece, then Mr. Manchard must be a very queer kind of a man. That is all I have to say." Tom did himself an injustice. That was not quite all lie had to say. The next day he said more. It was, in effect, that if young I'lanchand Ivad not re ceived the coin from his father, but had, simply, triedto pass off a spurious piece obtained elsewhere ith this paltry tale, lie was a very queer kind of a boy. I suppose there are many boys who would have resented these remarks of Tom Carroll. I did not do so. I was not quarrelsome, and I liked Tom. I was sure that some mistake existed that would be explained eventually. And, besides, Tom was half a foot taller tlijin I, and my chances of satisfying him by physical force that lie was wrong would have been of a very slender kind. So the days passed by, and I wcutmoplng ly about alone, and had no sympa thizers. Yes, one. At first it v\ as not thought quite safe to let me have charge of the letters, but the "post office duty" was not a favorite one, and I was soon al lowed to do it, when my turn came, as before; and again I met Fanny Barnes and told her about my trouble. "I don't believe it," she said em phatically. "I never saw your father, but I am sure he cannot be a robber, lie never gave you the coin." My father was certainly not a "rob ber." But that he had jflven me the coin, am! advised ine to be neither ex travagant nor stingy with it, did not admit of a doubt. 1 said so. "Then," said Fanny, after iCmoment's intense thought, "he did not know that it was a bad one." Now, surely, there would have been no suggestion more reasonable than this, but I had offered it so often and so vainly to the boys that X felt no de sire to advance it again. Then my kindly adviser made a second proposal: "Why don't you write to your father and tell liim of it?" But I had determined to write neither to my father in California, nor to my mother in New York, relative to the bad coin. I thought that to do so would be an insult. "Then I am sure I don't know what you can do," said the young woman, comprehensively. "You can't go to your father, and he is not coming to you. Those horrid boys will go on tormenting yon, of course; but.you can only wait." It was drawing very near to the Christmas vacation when my father re turned from California. He came again to the school and walked unexpectedly into the playground, w here the boys were all gathered in. a group engaged in bomc game. "How are you, Dick, my boy?" "How are you, father?" Then, without another word, but feel ing- as if all the blood in my body had suddenly flown to my face, I drew from my vest pocket the wretched coin that I had carried about with me since the keeper of the refreshment saloon had handed it back to me. "Father, it is a bad one," I said. "A bad one!" he repeated, looking-at it~ "Why. of course it is! Easy to see that. Where in the world did you get it from?" "You gave it to me." "1 gave it to you!" he exclaimed, in astonishment. ''Oh, nonsense. I never — But stay a moment!" lie gave a long, low whistle "Powers of grace! is it possible?" For a moment his face bore a fixed expression, and then, breaking into a hearty laugh, he turned to the boys, who had been eagerly listening, and, 1 thir.k, as he spoke to them as well as to me. that he surmised something of the situation. "The day that I came down here to see Dick," he said, "a man to whom I had lent $lO gave ine this coin in pay ment. I put it into my pocket without examining it, and while I was In the W& I WITH DR. STAY MIRE BESIDE ME. tr:,iii 1 remernb :vj that 1 had with ma another coin of the same denomination that I had reserved for Dick. I looked at them both, intending to select the brightest for him, uud then I saw that this was a bad one. I put it away, pro posing to return it to my not too scru pulous debtor the next day. llow I came to make the mistake of giving Dick the bad one I declare I do not know; but what 1 do know is that I handed the good one to that fellow in New York, with some remark about not being a dealer in counterfeit money, I got nothing in exchange, for he said the coin he had given me was all he had." Of course Dr. Stagmire was willing to grant us a half holiday, and once more, without fear and without re proach, I regaled the boys in the re freshment saloon. Faithful Fanny Barnes, when el*e heard of it, said, with a satisfied smile: "I am not a bit surprised. I was sure of it when i first heard about the bad piece."—Golden Days. Kt'innrknlile OlßlrToynnej-. When people are determined to And evidence to convince them of a thing they are bound to believe, there is never any lack of it. A certain man who ac cepted as true tin- pretensions of a enfirnnah Who claimed to be able to tell the Lfstocv diLtnirUy Ijjitl fniujw of anj person from Ins handwriting, said one day to a friend: "Why, look at the things he is able to tell you from a mere glimpse at your handwriting! The first thing he said to me was: 'I see you never took a prize in orthogra phy while you were at school,' and it was true." "Did be give you any idea how he knew that?" "lie said he could tell it merely from the way in which I had made tfie curves of the letters g (ind h in the word 'handwrighting'J"— Youth's Companion. Suillclent Reward. John Howe, the famous Puritan di vine, became Cromwell's chaplain in 1057. ITc was much respected by men of all parties, and in the ticklish limes of the Commonwealth hi* help and pro tection were often asked for, and never in vain. Yet lie was never known to ask a favor for himself. In "The Life and Work of John Howe" this incident is given: One day Cromwell took no tice of this self-denial, saying to him: "You have begged favors for everyone but yourself, Mr. Howe. When will your own turn come?" To which Howe returned this answer: "My lord pro tector, my turn is always come when I can serve another."—Youth's Com panion. Rosily ReeoKnlseuble. Stranger (at thie door) —I am trying to llnd a lady whose married name I have forgotten, but I know slue lives in this neighborhood. She is a w oman easily described, and perhaps you know her—a singularly beautiful creature,, with pink and white complexion, &ea- Bhell earfc, lovely eyes, and hair such us a gixldi -s might envy. Servant —Really, sir, I don't know Voice (from head of stairs) —June, tell the gentleiuaji I'll be down in a minute. —Illustrated American. Beat of Proof. "And you say you gave me no en couragement?" "That is what I said." "No encouragement? Why, even your father thought it all settled.' "My father? What proof have you < ' vour extraordinary statement? "Proof? The best of proof. He bor rows money from me!" —Cleveland Plain Dealer. The \i-w Way. AH men were doomed to turn their bread By toll from day to day, But here and there is some one now Who has a better way. Ho shrewdly looks about him and Proceeds to form a trust. And then, while others earn his bread. He tosses them the crust. —Chicago Dally News. Till: IJKOKK.V EWiACKMEST. ' e wjtt Wk+Wli'-i sfpkpl r ff>rfjf iff Cora So the engagement between Miss Trilby and George Winkles is off'.' Klla Yes, she was too sensitive. A woman ran a baby carriage over her foot, and when she told C.i orge about it tie asked her if it upset the baby car riage.—N. Y. Times. i j The Boss of Myall Blocks By Morley Roberts ON TBINEIXG it over, I am Inclined to believe that, of all men I ever knew in New South Wales—or, for the matter of that, in Australia —the worst was Mat Gregory, the manager of the Myall Blocks station. Just as all the humorous yarns are attributed to Jacky Dow, late of Toganmain, so all the brutalities and insults are given to Gregory—that is to say, the honors are even between him and Tyson, who is really not so bad a sort as the sundown ing fraternity are apt. to make out. For certainly Mat Gregory, or "Sav age Ginger," as some called him, from his red hair and redder beard, was a hard man, if he was a good manager. And as Simpson, who owned Myall Blocks, made at least $30,000 out of that station alone in a good year, it was not without justice that he was esteemed a good man from the employers' and capitalists' point of view. Hut he knew sheep, horses and cattle a little better than he knew men, and consequently he had a bad name among those who worked for him. lie could drive a man to death just as anyone can ride a horse to death, but he wanted the knack of getting men to lay themselves out for his service. There was no one loved him or even liked him, and priae in the station itself was a nonexistent quality. I knew this because I worked for hJra myself, and when I was boundary-rid ing, on an outstation on the line of fence between us and the nest station east, 1 found it a little annoying to be pitied by the other boundary rider whenever we met. "How's Old Ginger?" he used to ask, "and are you pickled by now?" Cut, fortunately, I saw very little of him, and he left before pened this way, according TO what I was told: Mat Gregory went up to the Northern Blocks, and stayed there savaging the superintendent for about three and making everyone wish he were dead. For, of course, nothing was right, lie was the kind of boss who will, go Into matters with a storekeeper, and, finding half an ounce of tea short, dock the responsible man. And if it was half on ounce over he would slate him for robbing the hands. And yet he wai a regular daylight robber himself. However, at the end erf three days he went oiY south again, and before he had ridden ten miles he came up with a lit tle rough old chnp, riding a beast of a broken-down crock not warth a panni kin of flour. Ilisclothes had never been good, but now they were ragged and sunburned, and his very hat was full of holes. But Mut ranged tip alongside Inm and said "Good day" very civilly for him. lie was, maybe, pleased with the jar he had given the North Block lot. Anyhow, he slung the traveler "Good day," and made as If lie. would chum in with him for the It - h of one of the big paddocks. "Day to you," said the traveler, who was u strong, wiry old boy, with griz zled eyebrows that hung over his eyes. "Are you traveling down to Myall Blocks station?" queried Matt. "I am so," answered the old man, coldly, "ami farther, too —very likely." "It's a very fine station, this?" said "Not so bad," acstu'ic» «■»-«.- ■ - "Do you know how many sheep run on it?" "Two hundred thousand and two hun dred and five, by the last county said Mat, feeling quite good and proud of the job. "What? No more?" asked the old man. "And how many more do you want?" asked Mat, quite surprised and not a lit tle snake-headed. "Ain't that enough (or a rusty old sundowner that never o* ned more of a sheep than a lump of mutton —and inebbe stolen at that?" said Mat. "Be civil," said the old man. "How many sheep do you own, or are you a boundary rider?" And Mat's horse gave a mighty jump, for Mat dug the spurs into him in his rage. And before Ginger co\ild pull him up he was a hundred yards away. Hut Ginger turned him and came gal loping back. "You rusty old whaler!" he roared. "So I'm to be civil to you, am I? A boundary rider, indeed 1 I'm the man ager of this run. I'm Matthew Greg ory, that's known from Adelaide to Syd ney, and from —" "You might be rich by the way you brag about yourself," said the old boy, with a sneer. "So you only maa ager?" "And what are you?" asked Mat foaming with rage. "You might be oljJ Jim Gleeson, I should think. Only you ain't." For Jim Gleeson was the richest man between Wllcannia and the Began, and a deal further than that. And Mat galloped off in a fury. He found a wire broken near the second fence from the home station, and, rid ing in, discharged the boundary rider who was responsible. Just about sundown the old chap with whom he had had the quarrel came riding past. So Mat weut out and shouted over to the storekeeper: "Don't give that old ruffian any flour. And, Jack,"—this was to a roustabout cutting firewood—"you go up to the cook double quick and tell him not to give the scrapings of a frying pan to him." Hut the old chap stopped Jack os he was going up to the men's hut on his er rand. "Nice boss, that of yours!" he ex claimed. "Ain't he just?" said Jack. "Do yon like him?" "Do we?" asked Jack, angrily. But be did wlint ho ><*« told, nil the AIM] then, to get even with Ginger, he look the beat part of a leg of mutton and half a lwitful of tea and went out, jvith it. He dodged routed the back of Qie stables ami came- on. tlieold boy rid ing along easy. "I tsay!" said Jack, and the other pulled up. "What is it? What *s the mat tor?" "I got this stuff from the cook," saio Jack. "And three miles down the road, on the left, beyond the little clump down the fence, there's good water and a. good bite of grase," "You're a fine young fellow, you art-," said the old inan. "It's a pity you are not a manager. Would you like a better job?" "Rather; but good jobs are scarce." "Xot so scarce as good men," nodxicd the traveler. "JVill you be here in a fortnight? I'm coming back, maybe, and 1 might hear of something." "I shall be here," .said the boy; "tliat is, if I don't get shot out." "You stay," grunted the old man. And he ambled off slowly and awk wardly. Two days afterward the junior part ner of Davies, Davies it Curwln, of Mel bourn e\ whose* name «;i» Grey, went into his senior partner's room with a long tvlegram. No. 11 "This is a queer start," he said. J "Wliatr "A telegram from Mr. Olecsoott," Grey, "aud a rum one at that." "Read It." "* "J And Grey read It out! "Hunt up Simpson, of North* and see If the station Is in the markofi If it is, close without delay and sena the agreement to sell, etc., up to mo M once. If net for sale, offer him asrl thing at all in reason. Don't stop £ 10,000 above the market price. Ajil find out if there is any agreement be tween him and his manager.—James Gleeson. Hay." And Grey went off. lie did not com® buck till four. But he was triumphant, for he had struck Simpson at the rip© time, and North Myall belonged to Jim Gleeson. "You can get me a two-horse buggy to go irp to North Myall in the morn ing," said a ragged old man, sitting Itj. the bnr of the Colonial at Bay. "Axuf let it be a good turnout," he chuckled, amiably. On the fourth day, after a long drive through the gray plains dottea very sparsely with dwarf box and bourree, he came to the south gate of North Myall. lie went through a long plain of a paddock, ten miles square, and he mei a 11*111 on horseback at the next gate. "Which way are you traveling?" atked the cheerful old man. "South," answered the man. "I'vo just got my discharge from M!yall Blocks." want a job?" asked the man in the buggy. "If you do, I'll hire you. n And five miles further'he met Jack, "I DISCHARGE YOU!" the.boy who had given him a meal, com ing along. The old chap pulled up. "I thought I told you to wait a week or two before you left." "I couldn't do it," said Jaok, grin ning. "That bully of a Gregory— "Never mind Gregory,' said hla friend; "sling your blankets }n behind and iump up and drive me. thire yon right n9w." And Jpck climbed in. And so they came up to Myall. Al most the first man they Greg ory, who had come ifl. with his black ahorse foaming, lie saw tie b6ondarjf •fider first. "What are J ou doing here?" Ji| shoptea. "Yob got your money. O® with you!" "You go to blazes!" said the man. And before Gregory caught his breath Jie saw Jack, aijd then his eyes lighted on the face of the ragged, sardonic old chap who had told him to be civil. "You—," said Gregory; but before h$ 3acfef-#ifo "#filsftEfl lift drove them at a gallop right down tg the house. And Gleeson got out to find Gregory running after ium. liut Glee son, was on the steps first. "I own this station, Mr. Gregory," he said. "I bought it la6t Wednesday, Make up your accounts and get yodr horse. I discharge you." "You're mad," shouted Ginger, who had suddenly turned pallid. Ate you?" "I'm Jim Gleeson, that's who J said the old man. "And for on<;6 rm 1 very glad to be a millionaire. There i not much pleasure in It, but if get any other pleasure from it thai this, it's worth it. tut Tip the horses, Jack, and cotpe here again to look through Mr- Gregory's accounts. J can't read." For he knew how to «v --flge a ma® himsel/, when h e wafited to, And turning to the boundary rldef, ht said: ''Just see that things go on as usual, my mrfn. Tlie new manager will pe to-morrow. And the next one shall be Juck, if he's any goofl." sut that last sentence to himself. —From "Strong Men and True." a C<V* le<jtion of Short Stories by Moriey Rob erta. Truly Wonderful Woman. "My wife is the most ingenious wom an who ever lived," said Kipper. VI believe you," returned Nipper, po litely. "But you don't know why you believe me," intimated Kipper. "To'tell the truth, I don't," replied, Nipper, looking bored. . "Well,l'll tell you. We've been mar ried 12 yars, and lived in the sume house ell the time, and this morning she found a new place in which to hide my ellppers." —Tltnßits. Economy. "What are you going to do about th® salary that is due you?" asked thelead •ing lady. "Nothing," answered Mr. Storming ton Barnes. "Aren't you at leas>t going to stand up and give him a talking to?" "No, madam. lam determined not to ossist hftn any further in gettingsomer thing for nothing. I expect people to »pay U> hear me declaim."—Washington Star. I'ropor Jtc-aen tment. "No, Miss Petherbridge," said the young man, folding his arms and look ing sternly at her. "l'ou can't be a 'feLster to me.' If I'm not good e-nough to get into"your family you can't get into mine!" Saying which, and picking xip his hat and gloves, he walked away with his head held stiffly erect. —Chicago Trib une. Kiitlooh, Perhaps. "I wish I had gone to the war. It must be great to be a hero to the girls." "I don't think I would like it. The Idea of competing with matinee actors and skating ring 'processors' is rather distasteful to me." —Cincinnati En quire r. Sure In lie I)U«i>i>olnted. "It's a boy." "My wife will be disappointed, doc tor." "I mean it's a. girL" "Well, she'll be disappointed just the Fame; she always wants the o4her thing."—Town Topic*. Makes Two Many lllmaelf. "Do you endeavor to profit by the mistakes of others?" u&ked the curious one. "I haven't time," replied the modest one. "I have to crowd things pretty hard to profit by all the I make jny telf,'fifei.SlKP.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers