VOL* xxxvii Mrs. J. E. ZIMMERMAN. Jackets. Capes and Jacket Suits. All $5.00 and $6.00 jackets, $2.94. /VII $7.50 and 8.50 jackets, 3.95. All SIO.OO and 12.00 jackets, 4.98. All $12.50 ladies' jacket suits, 7.98. All $15.00 ladies' jacket suits. 9.50. All $20.00 ladies'jacket suits,l2.so One lot of ladies' jacket suits, 4.98. (Ine lot of ladies' jacket capes—regardless of cost. All Wool Blankets, Haps and Cotton Blankets. All wool plain red and gray blankets —-$1.90, real value 2.75. Ail wool plain white and gray blankets —$2.25, real value 3. All wool plain red, black and white, red and black $2.40, ieal value 3.50. AH better j rade blankets at $2 98, 3.75 and 5.00, former prices 4.50, 5.00 and 6.50. All bed haps— 7sc sl, 1 .50, 2, former pi ices 1. 00, 1.50, 2.00 ai d 2 50. Ail cotton b'ankets— 4sc, 65c, 90c, former prices 50c, 75c, sl. One lot $1 0. B corsets at 59c. Of! per !***■» on all Wool Underwear, including cent. nGuuCIIOn Men's. Women's and Children's. M rs. J. E. Zimmerman. Clean-up Sale Continued! $ 0 Balance of January Devoted to Bargain Selling. 0 0 Our stock is still too large for invoicing and must be further reduced. CLOAKS ALMOST GIVEN AWAY. Special Clean-up Prices on Silks, Dress Goods, Table Linens, Crashes, Underwear and Hosiery. ALL WINTER GOODS SACRIFICED. -S§ REMNANT SALE- Hundreds of Remnants of all kinds of Dry Goods and ail odd lots at bargain prices. L. STEIN Sc SON, 108 N. MAIN STREET, BUTLER, PA CTRIVING COR EFFECT! & i, vS£ Men don't buy clothing for the pur-vfv _ J / jjuf 1 M/£&)') Ij or spending money. They sto get the heat possible results for thefC A. • f, 0 7 .yik ! vfc money expended. Not cheap goods'®" /< "l / £m\ , goods as cheap as they can C-&/ Aplfiij fTlsold for and made up properly. v?Cyou want the correct thing at the cor-"J?C —— IA I price, call and examine \ \ \ j 3C large stock of Heavy Weights, FalirTj \ wfj,' l||j jf Winter Suitings and Overcoats \« I'ri latest Styles, Shades and \j .j ® H|| ,7 \ I I Fits and Workmanship J I Guaranteed / G F. K€CK, 142 NorthlMain Street, Butler, Pa || PAPES, JEWELERS. 51 Si i 4 72 £ I DIAMONDS, * 00 t WATCHES, J o l 3 I CLOCKS, 5 5 J JEWELRY, J p i SILVER NOVELTIES, ETC. J 3 . u_ # We repair all kinds of S ° \ Broken Watches, Clocks, Jewelry, etc £ [J3 co ? Give our repair department a trial. £ z We take old gold and silver the same as cash, j Z\ PAPE'S, j| 5! 122 S. Main St., Butler, Pa. J g Stop and Think Before You Act. Where are you going to buy your WALL PAPER? Our Mam math new line for 1900 is arriving daily. Never be fore have you seen its equal in designs, colorings, quality and price. We can please >ou. Call and see before you buy. Picture and Mirror Framing a Specialty. Paints, Oils. Varnishes, Room Mouldings, and Window Shades. Patterson Bros., 238 North Main Street, Butler. Pa Wick Building. Peoples' Phone 400 subscribe for the CITIZLY THE BUTLER CITIZEN. TliU In Your Opportunity. On receipt of ten cents, cash or stamps, a generous sample will b' 1 mailed of tho most popular Catarrh and Hay Fever Cure (Ely's Cream Bahu; sufficient to demon strate the great merits of the remedy. ELY BROTHERS, 50 Warren St , New fork City. Rev. John Reid, Jr.. of Great Falls, Mont., recommended Ely's Cream Balm to me. I cau emphasize his statement, '"lt is a posi tive cure for catarrh if used as directed." — Rev. Francis W. Poole, Pastor CentralPres. Chiiroh, Helena, Mont. Ely's Cream Balm is the acknowledged cure for catarrh and contains no mercury nor any injurious drug. Price, 00 cents. Bullp-r Savings Bank Sutler, Pat. Capital - #60,000.00 Surplus and Profits - - $185,000.00 .ICS. L PURVIS President J. HENRY T[{OUTWAN. ...Vice-President WM. CA MPRELL. Jr Caf l.icr ! B. 'lelier DIKE'TORR -losppli L. urvls, .1. llenr> T w.tman, W. !). Brandon. V. A. Stein. .1 S. f.riDhell. The Butler Savings Haul; is the Oldest Bunking Institution'.!! Butler County, i.eneral bunking business transacted. We solicit accounts of Ul producers, mer chants, farmers unci others. AU business entrusted to us will receive prompt attention. Interest paid on time deposits. r M K Butler County National Bank, Butler Penn, Capital paid in - - $1 x>,ono.on Surplus and Profits - 703.% Tos. Hart man, President; J. V. Ritts, Vice President; C. A. Bailey. Cashier; John G. McMarlin, Ass't Cashier. "/ general banking business transacted, [uteres' paid on time deposits. Money leaned on approved security. We invite you to open an account witli this bunk. • 1»1 HECTORS— Hon. Joseph Hartman. Hon. W. S. Wuldron, Dr. M. Hoover. H. Mc- Sweeney. E. K. A brums. C. H. Collins I. O Smith, Leslie 1". llazlett, M. Finegin. W. 11. Larkiri, Harry Heasley. Dr. W. C. McCandless, Ben Masseth. T V. Kittf New Drug Slore. MacCartney's Pharmacy New Room. Fresh Drugs. Everything new and fresh. Prescriptions carefully com pounded by a Registered Pharmacist. Try Our Soda R A. MacCartney H.O.HAYS. L.H.HAYS, PUT YOUR RIG UP AT fHafls Bros.'l Livery and Sale Stable. Best Accommodations in Town. West JeTerson street, Butler, Pa People's Phone 109, Bell's Phone 59" Pearson B. Nace's Livery Feed and Sale Stable Rear of Wick House, Butler, Penn'a. The best of horses and first class rigs al ways on hand arid for hire. ttest accommodations in town Jor perma nent hoarding 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 pon proper notification by PEARSON B. NACE. Telephone. No. 219. jsiT iHatj ■ / \/* > /\yv Sale $5.00 $4.00 and $3.00 HATS AT SI.OO Jno- S Wick. Successor to Kl>. COLBERT, 242 S. Main St., Butler, Pa Opposite P. O. 1 BUTLER, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY H, 1900 INHISSTEPS. j :• «m\nt taouia i pnn 1: 3e3ao 9or' > p s+jm :: g —— ; - By ClurlesM. Sheldon. | •; . . ("npuriuht'il awl i i/. ,'w.i hti thr • jjL -s.' ' '. .y; . . Advanci Publishing Co. of Vhictuf <•> ——l • • " v .. . . . • . MC4>CK..i'- - - - - CHATTER IX. Master, I will follow tlico whithcrtoever thoo ; goest. The Saturday matinee at the Audi torium iu Chicago was just over, and ! the nsnnl crowd was straggling to get to its carriage before any one else. 'I lie Auditorium attendant was shouting out the number of different carriages, and the carriage- doors were slamming as the horses were driven rapidly to the curb, held there impatient by the drivers, who had shivered long in the raw east wind, and tlun let go to plunge for a few minutes intu the river of vehicles that tossed under the ele vated railway anil finally went whirling off up the avenue. "Now, then. <i - >4!" shouted tho Au ditorium attendant. "Six hundred and twenty-four!" he repeated as there da.sh 'il up to the curb a splendid span of black horses attached to a carnage having the monogram "C. K. S." in gilt letters on the panel of the door. Two girls stepped out of the crowd toward tii" carriage. Tho older one had entered and tain 11 her . eat. and the at tendant wan : till ho! din," (ho door open for the younger, who stood hesitating on the curb. "Come, Felicia! What aro you wait ing for? I shall freeze to death!" called tho voice fro; 1 the carriage. The jiii ( ide of the carriage hast ily unpinned a bunch of English violets from her dr and lir.m! ! them to a siiiail lx>y who was Htanolng shivering on the edge of the sidewalk, almost under the horses' feet. He took them with a look of asior.'-hmcnt ; 1 a "Thank ye, lr;;ly!" : lid in Vant.'y buried ji very grimy face in the bunch of per fume. The gill stepped into the car riage. the door ; lint with the incisive bang peculiar to well made c-.rriagea of this sort, and in a few 1 :cments the coachman was speeding il: • horses rap idly up one of the boulevards. "You are always doing some queer thing or other. Felicia," said the older girl as the carriage whirled on 1 st the great residences already brilliantly lighted. "Am I? What have I done that is qneer now. Rose?" asked tl. » other, looking up suddenly and turning hr head toward her sister. "Oh, giving those violets to that boy! He looked : ■ if ho needed a good hot supper more than a bunch of xiolets. It's a wonder you didn't invite him homo with us. I shouldn't have been surprised if yon had. You are always doing such qneer things, Felicia." "Would it be queer to invite a boy like that to come to Ihe house and get a hot supper?" Felicia asked the ques tion softly and almost as if she were alone. "Queer isn't just the word, of course," replied Rose indifferently. "It would be what Mme. Blanc calls outre —decidedly. Therefore you will please not invite him or oth< rs like him to hot suppers because I suggested it. Oh, dear! I'm awfully tired." She yawned, and Felicia silently looked out of the window in the door. "The concert was stupid, and the violinist was simply a bore. I don't see how yon could sit so still through it all," Rose exclaimed, a little impa tiently. "I liked the musy>,'' answered Felicia quietly. "You like anything. I never saw a girl with so little critical taste." Felicia colored slightly, bnt would not answer. Rose yawned again and then hummed a fragment :>f a popular song. Then she exclaimed abruptly: "I'm sick of almost everything. I hope the 'Shadows of London' will be exciting tonight. " " 'The Shadows of Chicago!' " mur mured Felicia. " 'The Shadows of Chicago!" 'The Shadows of London,' the play, the great drama with its wonderful scenery, the sensation of New York for two months. You know \ve have a box with the De lanos tonight." Felicia turned her faco toward her sister. Her great brown eyes were very expressive and not altogether free from a sparkle of luminous heat. "And yet we never weep over tho real thing on the actual stage of life. What are the shadows of London on the stage to the shadows of London or Chi cago as they really exist? Why don't we get excited over tho facts as they are?" "Because the actual people are dirty and disagreeable and it's too much bother, I suppose," replied Rose care lessly. "Felicia, you never can reform the world. What's the use? We're not to blame for the poverty and misery There have always been rich and poor, and there always will be. We ought to bo thankful we're rich. " "Suppose Christ had gone on that principle," replied Felicia, with un usual persistence. "Do you remember Dr. Brace's sermon on that verse a few Sundays ago, 'For ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that, though he was rich, yet for our sakes he be came poor, that ye through his poverty might become rich?' " "I remember it well enough," said Rose, with some petulance. "And didn't Dr. Bruce go on to say that there was 110 blame attached to people who ha«l wealth if they are kind and give to the needs of the poor? And lam sure the doctor himself is pretty comfortably settled. lie never gives tip his luxuries just becanso some people in the city go hungry. What good would it do if he did? I tell yon, Felicia, there will al ways be poor and rich in spite of all we can do. Ever since Rachel has written about the oueer doings in Raymond you have upset the whole family. Peo ple can't live at that concert pitch all the time. Yon see if Rachel doesn't give it up soon. It's a great pity she doesn't come to Chicago and sing in the Auditorium concerts. I heard t >day fhe had received an offer. I'm going to write and urge her to come. I'm just dviiiK to hear her sing." Felicia looked out of the window and was silent. The carriage rolled 011 past two blocks of magnificent private resi dences and turned into a wide drive way under a covered passage, and the sisters hurried into the house. It was an elegant mansion of graystone, fur nished like a palace, every corner of it warm with the luxury of paintings, sculpture, art and refinement. The owner of it all, Mr. Charles R. titerling, stood in.tore an open urate nre smoking a cigar. He htfd made his 1::;. uey in grain speculation and rail road ventures ami was reputed to be worth something over two millions. His wife was a sister of Mrs. Window of Raymond. She had been iui invalid for 1 vera 1 years. The two girls, Rose and Felicia, were tl. only children. Rose was 21 years old. fair, vivacious, educated in a fashionable college, just entering society and already somewhat cynical and indifferent, a very hard young lady to please, her father said sometime.; playfully, sometimes sternly Felicia was 1 with a tropical beaut} somewhat like her cousin, Rachel Wins low, with warm, genert::impulses just waking into Christian !' ling, ca pable of :>ll sorls of expiessii a, a puzzl to lier father, a source of irritation to her mother and with a great, unsur veyed territory of thought and action in herself of which she was more than dimly conscious. There was that in Felicia that would easily endure any condition in life if only the liberty to act fully 011 her conscientious convic tions were granted her. "Here's a letter for you, Felicia," said Mr. Sterling, taking it out of his pocket. Felicia sat down and instantly opened the letter, saying as she did so, "It's from Rachel. "Well, what's the latest news from Raymond V" asked Mr. Sterling, taking his cigar out of his mouth and looking at Felicia, as he often did, with half shut eyes, as if he were studying her. "Rachel says Dr. Bruce has been studying in Raymond for two Sundays and has seemed very much interested in Mr. Maxwell's pledge in the First church." "What does Rachel say about her self?" .sked Rose, who was lying on a couch almost buried under half a dozen elegant cushions. "She is still singing at the Rectangle. Since the tent meetings closed she sings in an eld hall until the new buildings her friend Virginia Page is putting up are completed." "I must write Rachel to come to Chi cago and visit ns.- She ought not to throw away her voice in that railroad town upon all those people who don't appreciate her." Mr. Sterling lighted a new cigar, and Rose exclaimed: "Rachel is awfully queer, I think. She might set Chicago wild with her voice if she sang in the Auditorium, and there she goes on, throwing her voice away on people who don't know what they are hearing. " "Rachel won't come here unless she can <l<f it and keep her pledge at the same time," said Felicia after a pause. "What pledge?" Mr. Sterling asked the question and then added hastily: "Oh, I know! Yes; a very peculiar thing that. Powers used to be a friend of mine. We learned telegraphy in the same office; made a great sensation when he resigned and handed over that evidence to the interstate commerce commission, and he's back at his te legraphy again. There have been queer doings in Raymond during the past year. I wonder what Dr. Bruce thinks of it, on the whole. I must have a talk with him about it." '"He preaches tomorrow," said Feli cia. "Perhaps he will tell us something about it." There was silence for a minute. Then Felicia said abruptly, as if she had gone 011 with a spoken thought to some invisible hearer, "And what if he should propose the same pledge to the Nazareth Avenue church?" "Who V What are you talking about ?" asked her father, a little sharply. "About Dr. Bruce. I say what if he should iiropose to our church what Mr. Maxwell proposed to his and ask for volunteers who would pledge themselves to do everything after asking the ques tion, 'What would Jesus do?' " "There's 110 danger of it," said Rose, rising suddenly from the couch as the tea bell rang. "It's a very impracticable movement to my mind,'' said Mr. Sterling sharply. "I understand from Rachel's letter that the church in Raymond is going to make an attempt to extend the idea of the pledge to the other churches. If they succeed, they will certainly make great changes in the churches and ii> people's lives," said Felicia. "Oh, well, lrt's have some tea first," said Rose, walking into the dining room. Her father and Felicia followed, and the meal proceeded in silence. Mrs. Sterling had her meals served in her room. Mr. Sterling was preoccupied. He ate very little and excused himself early, and, although it was Saturday night, he remarked as he went out that he would be down town late on some special business. •A'Don't you think father looks very much disturbed lately?" asked Felicia a little while after he had gone out. '•()h, I don't know! I hadn't noticed anything unusual,'' replied Rose. After a silence she said: "Are you going to the play tonight, Felicia? Mrs. Delano will be here at half past 7. I think you ought to go. She will feel hurt if you refuse.'' "I'll go. I don't care about it. I can see shadows enough without going to the play." "That's a doleful remark for a girl 19 years old to make," replied Rose, "but then you're queer in your ideas anyhow, Ft licia. If you're going up to see mother, tell her I'll run in after the play if she is still awake." Felicia went up to see her mother and remain with her until the Delano carriage came. Mrs. Sterling was wor ried about her husband. She talked in cessantly and was irritated by every re mark Felicia made. She would mft list en to Felicia's attempts to read even a part of Rachel's letter, and when Fe licia offered to stay with her for the evening she refused the offer with a good deal of positive sharpness. So 1 licia started off to the play not very happy, but she was familiar with that feeling, only sometimes she was more unhappy than at other times. Her feeling expressed itself tonight by a withdrawal into herself. When the company was seated in the box and the curtain was up, Felicia was back of the others and remained for the even ing by herself. Mrs. Delano as chaperon for a half dozen young ladies under stood Felicia well enough to know that she was "queer," as Rose so often said, and she made no attempt to draw her out of the corner, and so Felicia really experienced that night by herself one of the feelings that added to the mo mentum that was increasing the coming on of her great crisis. The play was an English melodrama full of startling situations, realistic scenery and unexpected climaxes. There was one scene in the third act that im pressed even Rose Sterling. It was midnight on Blackfriars bridge. The Thames flowed dark and forbidding below St Paul's rose through the dim light, imposing, its dome seeming to float above the. l build iiK > surrounding it. Th-' li *e of a child c::i::.- upon the bridge an«s stood there for a moment, peerin r aixKit as if looking for some one. Sever:il persons r;' crossing the briilge. but in one of the recesses about midway of the river a woman stood, leaning out over the parapet with a strained agony of face and figure that told plainly of her in tentions Just as she was stealthily mounting the parapet to throw herself into the rivi r the child caught sight of her. ran forward, with a shrill cry more animal than human, and, seizing the woman's dress, dragged back upon it with all her little strength. Then there came suddenly upon the scene two other characters who had already figured in the play, a tall, handsome, athletic gen tleman dressed in the fashion, attended by a sliui figured lad. who was as re fined in dress and appearance as the lit tle girl clinging to her mother was mournfully hideous in her rags and re pulsive poverty. These two, the gentle man and the lad, prevented the at tempted suicide, and after a tableau on the bridge where the audience learned that the man and woman were brother and sister the scene was transferred to the interior of one of the slum tene ments in the east side of London. Here the scene painter and carpenter had done their utmost to produce an exact copy of a famous court and alley well known to the poor creatures who make up a part of the outcast London hu manity The rags, the crowding," the vileness, the broken furniture, the hor rible animal existence forced upon creatures made in (rod's image, were so skillfully shown in this scene that more than one elegant woman in the theater, seated, like Rose Sterling, in a sump tuous box, surrounded with silk hang ings and velvet covered railing, caught herself shrinking back a little, as if contamination were possible from the nearness of this piece of painted canvas. It was almost too realistic, and yet it had a horrible fascination for Felicia as she sat there alone, buried back in a cushioned seat absjrbed in thoughts that went far beyond the dialogue on the stage. From the tenement scene the play shifted to the interior of a nobleman's palace, and almost a sigh of relief went up all over the house at the sight of the accustomed luxury of the upper classes. The contrast was startling. It was brought about by a clever piece of stag ing that allowed only a few minutes to elapse between the slum and the palace scenes. The dialogue continued, the actors came and went in their various roles, but upon Felicia the play made but one distinct impression. In reality the scenes 011 the bridge and in the slum were only incidents in the story of the play, but Felicia found herself living those scenes over and over. She had never philosophized about the causes of human miser}'. She was not old enough. She had not the tempera ment that philosophizes. But she felt intensely, and tins was not the first time she had felt the contrast thrust into her feeling between the upper and the lower conditions of human life. It had been growing upon her until it had made her what Rose called "queer" and the other people in her circle of wealthy acquaintances called "very unusual." It was simply the human problem in its extremes of riches and poverty, its refinement and its vileness, which was, in spite of her unconscious attempts to struggle against tho facts, burning into her life the impression that would in the end transform her into either a woman of rare love and self sacrifice for the world or a miserable enigma to herself and all who knew her. "Come, Felicia! Aren't you going home?" said Rose. The play was over, the curtain down, and people were go ing noisily out, laughing and gossiping, as if "The Shadows of London" waJ simply good diversion, as it was put on the stage so effectively. Felicia rose and went out with the rest quietly and with the absorbed feel ing tkat had actually left her in her seat oblivious of the play's ending. She was never absentminded, but often thought herself into a condition that left her alone in the midst of a crowd. "Well, what did you think of it?' asked Rose when the sisters had reached home and were in the drawing room. Rose really had considerable respect for Felicia's judgment of a play. "I thought it was a pretty picture of real life." "I mean tho acting," said Rose, an noyed. "The bridge scene was well acted, especially the woman's part. I thought the man overdid the sentiment a little. " "Did you? I enjoyed that. And wasn't the scene between the two cous ins funny when they first learned that they were related? But the slum scene was horrible. I think they ought not to show such things in a play. They are too painful. " "They must be painful in real life, too," replied Felicia. "Yes, don't have to look at the real thing. It's bad enough at tho theater, where we pay for it. " Rose went into the drawing room *iut began to eat from a plate of fruit and cakes on the sideboard. "Are you going up to see mother?" asked Felicia after awhile. She had re mained in front of the drawing room fire. "No," replied Rose from the other room; "I won't trouble her tonight. If you go in, tell her I am too tired to bo agreeable." So Felicia turned into her mother's room. As she went up the great stair case and down tho upper hall the light was burning there, and the servant who always waited 011 Mrs. Sterling was beckoning Felicia to come in. "Tell Clara to go out," exclaimed Mrs. Sterling as Felicia came up to tho bed and kneeled by it. Felicia was surprised, but she did as her mother bade her and then inquired how she was feeling. "Felicia," said her mother, "can you pray?" The question was so unliko any her mother had ever asked before that Fe licia was startled, but she answered: "Why, yes, mother. What makes Von ask such a question?" "Felicia, lam frightened. Your fa ther—l have had such strange fears about him all day. Something is wrong with him. I want yon to pray." "Now? Here, mother?" "Yes. Pray, Felicia." Felicia reached out her hand and took her mother's. It was trembling. Mrs. Sterling had never shown innch tender ness for her younger daughter, and her strange demand now was the first real of any confidence in Felicia's character. The girl still kneeled, holding her mother's trembling hand, and prayed. It was donbtfnl if she had ever prayed aloud before. She must have said in her prayer the words that her mother needed, for when it was silent in the room the invalid was weeping scftly, and her nervous tension was over. Felicia staid some time. When she was assured that her mother would not need her any longer, she rose to go. "Good night, mother. Yon must let Clara call mo if you feel bad in the night." "I feel better now." Then as Felicia was moving away Mrs. Sterling said. "Won't you kiss me, Felicia V" Felicia went back and bent over her mother The ki>- was almost as to her as the prayer had b u. Wli. ii Felicia went «intof the r<>,>m. her cheeks were wet with tears. She had not cried since she was a little Sunday at tlie Sterling man sion was generally very quiet. The trirl " nsnally went to chnreh at 11 o'clock service. Mr. Sterling was n>it a mem ber, lint a heavy contributor, and ho generally went to church in the morn ins. This time he did not come down to breakfast and finally sent word by a servant that he did not feel well enough to go out. So Rose and Felicia drove up to the door of the Nazareth Avenue church and entered the family pew alone. When Dr. Bruce walked out of tho room at the rear of the platform and went up to the pulpit to open the Bible, as his custom was, those who knew him best did not detect anything un usual in his manner or his expression He proceeded with the service as usual. He was calm, and his voice was steady and firm. *His prayer was the first inti mation the people had of anything new or strange in the service. It is safe to say that the Nazareth Avenue church had not heard Dr. Bruce offer such a prayer during the 13 years he had been pastor there. How would a minister be likely to pray who had come out of a revolution in Christian feeling that had completely changed his definition of what was meant by following Jesns? No one in Nazareth Avenue church had any idea that the Rev. Calvin Bruce, D. D.. the dignified, cultured, refined doctor of divinity, had within a few days been crying like a little child, 011 his knees, asking for strength and cour age and Cliristlikeness to speak his Sun day message, and yet the prayer was an unconscious, involuntary disclosure of the soul's experience such as Nazareth Avenue people seldom heard and never before from that pulpit. In the hush that succeeded the prayer a distinct wave of spiritual power moved over the congregation. The most careless persons in the church felt it. Felicia, whose sensitive religious nature responded swiftly to every touch of emotion, quivered under the passing of that supernatural power, and when she lifted her head and looked up at the minister there was a look in her eyes that announced her intense, eager an ticipation of the scene that was to fol low. And she was not alone in her atti tude. There was something in the prayer and the result of it that stirred many and many a disciple in Nazareth Avenue church. All over the house men and women leaned forward, and when Dr. Bruce began to speak of his visit to Raymond in the operifhg sentences of his address, which this morning pre ceded his sermon, there was an answer ing response in the church that came back to him as he spoke and thrilled him with the hope of a spiritual bap tism such as he had never during all his ministry experienced. "I am just back from a visit to Ray mond," Dr. Bruce began, "and I want to tell you something of my impressions of the movement there." He paused, and his look went over his people with yearning for them and at the same time with a great uncer tainty at his heart. How many of his rich, fashionable, refined, luxury loving members would understand the nature of the appeal he was soon to make to them V He was altogether i» the dark as to that. Nevertheless he had been through his desert and had come out of it ready to suffer. He went on now aft er that brief pause and told the story of his stay : u Raymond. The people al ready knev something of that experi ment in tli First church. The whole country lie 1 watched the progress of the pledge . , it had become history in so many lives. Henry Maxwell had at last decided that the time had come to seek the fellowship of ether churches throughout the country. The new dis ciplesliip in Raymond had proved to be so valuable in its results that Henry Maxwell wished the church in general to share with the disciples in Ray mond. Already there had begun a vol unteer movement in many of tho churches throughout the country, act ing 011 their own desire to walk closer in the steps of Jesus. The Christian Endeavor societies had with enthusiasm In many churches taken the pledge to do as Jesus would do, and the result was already marked in a deeper spir itual life and a power in church influ ence that was like a new birth for the members. All this Dr. Bruce told his people simply and with a personal interest that evidently led the way to his announce ment, which now followed. Felicia had listened to every word with strained attention. She sat there by the side of Rose, in contrast like fire beside snow, although even Rose was as alert and excited as she could be. "Dear friends," he said, and for the first time since his prayer the emotion of the occasion was revealed in his voice and gesture, "I am going to ask that Nazareth Avenue church take the same pledge that Raymond church has taken. I know what this will mean to yon and nie. It will mean the complete change of very many habits. It will mean possibly social loss. It will mean very probably in many cases loss of money. It will mean suffering. It will mean what following Jesus meant in the first century, and then it meant suffering, loss, hardship, separation from every thing un-Christian. But what does following Jesns mean? The test of discipleship is the same now as then. Those of you who volunteer in the Nazareth Avenue church to do as .fesns would do simply promise to walk in his steps, as he gave us command ment. '' Again Rev. Calvin Brace, pastor of Nazareth Avenue church, paused, and now the result of his announcement was plainly visible in the stir that went over the congregation. He added in a quiet voice that all who volunteered to make the pledge to do as Jesus would do were asked to remain after the morning service. Instantly he proceeded with his ser mon. His text was from Matthew viii, 10. "Master, I will follow thee whither soever thou goest." It was a sermon that touched tho deep springs of conduct. It was a rev elation to tho people of the definition their pastor had been learning. It took them back to the first century of Chris tianity. Above all, it stirred them be low the conventional thought of years ns to the meaning and purpose of church membership It was such a sermon as a man can preach once in a lifetime and with enough iu it for people to live on all through a lifetime. The service closed in a hush that was slowly broken. People rose hero and there a few at a time. There was a re luctance in the movements of the peo ple that was very striking. Rose, however, walked straight out the pew, and as she reached the aisle she turned her head and beckoned to Felicia. By that time the congregation was rising all over the church. Felicia instantly answered her sis ter's look. "I'm going to stay," she said, and R< had heard her speak in tho same manner on other occasions and knew that Felicia's resolve could not bo changed. Nevertheless she went back into the new two or three stei>s and faced her. "Felicia." she whispered, and there was a flush of anger on her cheeks, "this is folly What can yon do? Yon will bring disgrace upon the family What will father say? Come." Felicia looked at her, but did not an swer at once. Her lij»s» were moving with a petition that came from a depth of feeling that measured a new life for her. She shook her head. "No: lam going to stay I shall take the pledge. lam ready to obey it Yen do not know why I am" doing this." Rose gave her one look and then turned and went out of the pew and down the aisle. She did not even stop to talk with her acquaintances. Mrs. Delano was going out of the church just as Rose stepped into the vestibule. "So yon are not going to join the doctor's volunteer company?" Mrs. De lano asked in a queer tone that made Rose redden. "No. Are you? It is simply asburd. I have always regarded the Raymond movement as fanatical. Yon know Cousin Rachel keeps us posted about it. " "Yes; I understand it is resulting in a great deal of hardship in many cases. For my part, I believe Dr. Bruce has simply provoked a disturbance here. It will result in splitting Nazareth Avenue church. Yon see if that isn't so. There are scores of people in the church who are so situated that they can't take such a pledge and keep it. I am one of them." added Mrs. Delano as she went out with Rose. When Rose reached home, her father was standing in his nsual attitnde be fore the open fireplace, smoking a cigar. "Where is Felicia?" he asked as Rose came in alone. "She staid to an after meeting," re plied Rose shortly. She threw off her Wraps and was going up stairs when Mr. Sterling called after her: "An after meeting? What do yon mean ?" "Dr. Brace asked the church to take the Raymond pledge." Mr. Sterling took his cigar ont of hi? mouth and twirled it nervously be tween his fingers. "I didn't expect that of Dr. Bruce. Did any of the members stay?" "I don't know. I didn't," replied Rose, and she went up stairs, leaving her father standing in the drawing room. After a few minutes he went to the window and stood there looking out at the people driving on the boulevard. His cigar had gone out, but he still fin gered it nervously. Then he turned from the window and walked up and down the room. A servant stepped across the hall and announced dinner, and he told her to wait for Felicia. Rose came down stairs and went into the library, and still Mr. Sterling paced the drawing room restlessly. He had finally wearied of the walking apparently and, throwing himself into a chair, was brooding over something deeply when Felicia came in. He rose and faced her. Felicia was evidently very much moved by the meeting from which she had just come. At the same time she did not wish to talk too much about it. Just as she en tered the drawing room Rose came in from the library. "How many staid?" she asked. Rose was curioT*. At the same she was skep tical of the whole movement in Ray mond. "About a hundred," replied Felicia gravely. Mr. Sterling looked surprised. Felicia was going out of tho room. He called to her. "Do you really mean to keep the pledge?" he asked. Felicia colored. Over her face and neck the warm blood flowed as she an swered, "You would not ask such a question, father, if you had been pres ent at the meeting." She lingered a moment in the room, then asked to ba excused from dinner for awhile and went up to see her mother. No one ever knew what that inter view between Felicia and her mother was. It is certain that she must have told her mother something of the spir itual power that had awed every person present in the company of disciples from Nazareth Avenue church who faced Dr. Bruce in that meeting after the morn ing service. It is also certain that Fe licia had never known such an experi ence and never would have thought of sharing it with her mother if it had not been for the prayer the evening before. Another fact is also known of Felicia's experience at this time. When she finally joined her father and Rose at the table, she seemed unable to tell them much about the meeting. There was a reluctance to speak of it, as one might hesitate to attempt a description of a wonderful sunset to a person who never talked about anything but the weather. When that Sunday in the Sterling mansion was drawing to a close and the soft, warm lights through out the dwelling were glowing through the great windows, in a corner of her room where the light was obscure Fe licia kneeled, and when she raised her face and turned it toward the light it was the face of a woman who had al ready defined for herself the greatest issues of earthly life. That same evening, after the Sunday evening service, the Rev. Calvin Bruce, D. D., of Nazareth Avenue church, was talking over the events of the day with his wife. They were of one heart and mind in the matter and faced their new future with all the faith and courage of new disciples. Neither was deceived as to the probable results of the pledge to themselves or to the church. They had been talking but a little while when the bell rang, and Dr. Bruce, going to the door, exclaimed as he opened it: "It is you, Edward! Come in!" There came into the hall a command ing figure. The bishop was of extraor diary height and breadth of shoulder, but of such good proportions that there was no thought of ungainly or even of unusual size. The impression the bishop made on strangers was first that of great health and then of great affection. He came into the parlor and greeted Mrs. Bruce, who after a few moments was called out of the room, leaving the two men together. The bishop sat in a deep easy chair before the open fire. There was just enough dampness in the early spring of the year to make an open fire pleasant. "Calvin, you have taken a very seri ous step today,'' he finally said, lifting his large dark eyes to his old college classmate's face. "I heard of it this afternoon. I could not resist the desire to see yon about it tonight. " "I'm glad you came." Dr. Bruce sat near the bishop and laid a haud on his shoulder. "You understand what this means, Edward?" "I think I do—yes; 1 am sure." Tho bishop sj>oke very slowly and thought fully. He sat with his hands clasped to gether. Over his face, marked with lines of consecration and service and the love of men, a shadow crept, a shadow not caused by tho firelight. Again he lifted his eyes toward his old friend. "Calvin, wo have always understood each other. Ever sine© our paths led us in different ways in church life we have walked together in Christian fellow- | ship." "It is true." replied Dr. rtrnr<» j an emotion lie made no attempt fo Con* ceal or subdue. "Thank Goa for it. 1 prize your fellowship moro than any man's. I have always known whr.t it meant, though it lias always been n.ore than 1 deserve." The bishop looked affectionately at his friend, but the shadow stm resf-?d on his face After a pause ne spoke again "The new disciplesliip means a crisis for you in y. tr work. If yon keep this pledge to do all things as Jesus would do, as 1 know yon will, it requires no prophet to predict some remarkable changes in your parish." The bishop looked wistfully at Bruce and then con tinued "In fact, Ido not see how a perfect upheaval of Christianity as we now know it can lie prevented if the ministry and churches generally take the Raymond pledge and live it out." He paused as if he were waiting for his friend to say something, to a6k some question, but Bruce did not know of the fire that was burning in the bishop's heart over the very question that Max well and himself had fought out "Now. in my church, for instance," continued the bishop, "it would be rather a difficult matter, I fear, to find very many people who would take a pledge like that and live np to it Mar tyrdom is a lost art with us. Our Chris tianity loves its ease and comfort too well to take up anything so rough and heavy as a cross, and yet what does fol lowing Jesus mean? What is it to walk in his stei>s?" The bishop was (soliloquizing now, and it is doubtful if he thought for the moment of his friend's presence. For the lirst time thure flashed into Brnce's mind a suspicion of the truth. What if the bishop should throw the weight %f his great influence on the side of the Raymond movement! He had the fol lowing of the most aristocratic, wealthy, fashionable people not only in Chicago, but in several large cities. What if the bishop should join this new discipleship I The thought was about to be followed by the word. Dr. Bruce had reached ont his hand and. with the familiarity of lifelong friendship, had placed it on the bishop's shoulder and was about to ask him a very important question when they were both startled by the violent ringing of the bell. Mrs. Bruce had gone to the door and was talking with some one in the hall. There was a loud exclamation, and then, as the bishop rose and Dr. Bruce was stepping toward the curtain that hung before the entrance to the parlor, Mrs. Bruce pushed it aside. Her face was white, and she was trembling. "Oh. Calvin! Such terrible news! Mr. Sterling—oh, I cannot tell it! What a fearful blow to those two girls!" "What is it?" Dr. Bruce advanced with the bishop into the hall and con fronted the messenger, a servant from the Sterlings. The man was without his hat and had evidently run over with the news, as the doctor lived nearest of any friends of the family. "Mr. Sterling shot himself, sir, a few minutes ago! He killed himself in his bedroom! Mrs. Sterling''— "I will go right over. Edward"—Dr. Bruce turned to the bishop—"will you go with me? The Sterlings are old friends of yours." The bishop was very pale, but calm, as always. He looked his friend in the face and answered: "Aye, Calvin. I will go with you, not only to this house of death, but also the whole wayof hu imra sin and sorrow, please God." And even in that moment of horror at the unexpected news Calvin Bruce understood what tho bishop had prom ised to do. [TO BE CONTHTOBB.I GOT HIS CLEAN CLOTHES. Be Had No Money, but Had Nerve and mi Easy C'h in mm nil. That th>re are more ways than one to accomplish a thing If a man only has the necessary nerve is illustrated by the experience of a young man. The young man tells the story himself, BO there is no betrayal of confidence In printing It. It seems that he had a big bundle of collars and cuffs and shirts at a Chi nese laundry a night or two ago, some articles in which he needed very much. The night was the furthest In the week from his pay day, and he was "broke." Still he had to have clean linen iu order to keep an important en gagement. "I didn't know what to do," he said In relating the incident "I felt sure that the Chinaman wouldn't extend credit to me, for It Is a well known thing that Chinese laundrymen never 'trust.' At last I hit upon a scheme. Going to my room, I bundled up all the soiled linen I possessed. Hurry ing around to the laundryman's, I pro duced the bundle. " 'Sixty-five cents!' he exclaimed blandly, holding out his hand for the coin. "I picked up the clean linen and, de positing the bundle of soiled on his counter, started for the door as if my life depended on my being half a mile away within five minutes. " That's all right!' I shouted back In reply. 'Just mark It on that bundle, and I'll pay you for both together!' "Then 1 was gone, but not before I caught a glimpse of the laundryman hastily unwrapping the bundle I had left, as If ho was anxious to see wheth er or not the contents were worth the G5 cents I had 'hung him up' for. He was evidently satisfied, for he didn't yell for the police or make any com motion, as I was afraid he might do, and I had all kinds of freshly launder ed collars and cuffs and shirts to wear that night. And all on account of a bit of nerve."—Philadelphia Inquirer. Creature* of Circumstance. Once upon a time there was a Boy whose Neighbors were all very sordid. Those Neighbors would not suffer the Boy to destroy their property, no mat ter what the occasion. So the Boy grew up without ever having achieved any Halloween pranks to speak of. "Alas!" cried the Boy, when he had become an obscure and unimportant Man. "We are what circumstances make us!" This fable teaches us to be kind to children.—Detroit Journal. Matle n failure of the Job. "Why did she marry him?" "Because she thought he needed re forming." "And why did she leave him?" "Because lie still needed It." As usual, she had learned that as a reform measure marriage is not always a glittering success.—Chicago Tost. For the Sake of Hi* Hobby. "What makes you work so hard day and night?" "I want to get rich," juiswered the Industrious man. "I want to save up enough money to enable me to put in all my time advocating an equal dis tribution of. wealth." Washington Star. A Lnnd Hint. "Mr. Secretary, what is that crowd down there singing?" " 'Rally Round the Bar'l, Boys.' " "Is that a new song?" "No. It's a loud hint." Cleveland Plain Dealer. Mo O
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers