Butler citizen. (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, April 12, 1900, Image 1

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    VOL.- xxxvii
Have you seen the pretty styles
in fine footwear at Bickel s.
Our spring stock is all in and
is extreml) large.
Grandest display of fine foot
wear ever shown.
in all the new and pretty styles
for spring. Many styles to select
from. Misses' and Children s
shoes and Oxfords in fine Dongola,
Tan and Patent Leather.
See our line of Men's and Boy's
fine shoes in Patent Leather, Vici
Kid and the different shades of
Also a complete stock of Gents'
fine Oxfords in the different
leathers —all sizes and widths
The styles are the latest and
the prices are the lowest.
Sample Counters Filled With Interesting Bargains
Spring Footwear
The Very Finest Shoes Ever Shown in Butler for Men,
Women and Children.
Every New Idea
That has merit in it as to style, ;
comfort and service in footwear;
develops in this store.
Women's Shoes
made especially to our order;
dainty in appearance, of sub
stantia' service and full of style
as to shape of heel and toe, $2,
$2.50, $3.00 and $3.50 in Tan,
kid and Russia calf, black kid
skin and patent leather.
Our Girls Shoes
in ta:i and black, iace or but- j
ton kid shoes, sizes 11 J to 2, at>
75c, sl, $125 and $1.50; i
to 1 1, at 50c, 75, $1 and $1.25; i
6 t<> 8 at 40c, 50c, 75c and sl.
Shoes for Boys,
Including patent leather, vici
kid. tan and Russia calf, sizes
2.j to at 90c. $ 1.00, $1.25,
$1.50 and $2.00.
We are sole agents for the famous "Queen duality" Shoes
for Women, of this city,
itutler'b Leading Hhoe House. Opposite Hotel Lwry.
Spring STYLES § lypr
Men don't buy clothing for the pur-i? * I u,/ I ' (JT
iaCpose or spending money. They
2to get the best possible results lor A. • A. \?|
expended. Not cheap goolsTSC /< H 1 .4X--' Br ij|
goods as cheap as they can JjV ' jjwf' (t
2*sold for nd made up properly. I*3) F\ 1' J] j]
want the correct thing at the cor-'j?; —IA XfrMf -, '||
price, call and examine our;,a;. ■ —' \ \|J j| i
*?; large stack of SPRISC'WEIGHTS —J \ v Vw i il
\ t t j !/ ; V
Fits and WorkmanshiD I J J'J m
Guaranteed. kl'
G F. K6CK,
42 North Main Street, Butler, Pa
Out of Style, Out of the World!
° ur B arments have :i st y ,e that is
--*j f\ l| easily distinguished from the ordin
( ary. They arc the result of careful
study and practical application of the
ideas gathered by frequent visits to
jt the fashion centres, and by personal
,t- PwpVcontact with the leading tailors and
uj'4 | 'fcn ' £&' j fashion authorities of the county
; tp.~ ' .5 • & ( They are made in our own work
sltop by the highest paid journey
-11l men tailors in Butler, yet it is pos
sible to (and we do) give our patrons these first class clothes at the
price you would pay for the other sort. We believe we have given
good reasons why our tailoring is the best and cheapest and would
be grateful for the opportunity to show you our handsome spring
stock and give you prices to prove them.
1 ✓"->! maker of
/-VI CJ I MEN'S Clothes
Ci< v ~
3 ' s not ({"ess work. Wo lire noi
, satisfied simply to sell a truss thai
'/j K ?®« (fZZ'xr —7>v I I approximate-, tlm sl/.«- of the CUM
W jj tomer. for we want, the truss w<
s J t
■ littlo Intelligent bending of tlit
■ truss bund Is needed. Wo do It
V&sf If and we promptly order uperla
Ladies' fine Dongola shoes
$1.50 values at SI.OO
Men's fine Calf shoes, leather
lined, $1 50 values at SI.OO.
Men's fine Tan shoes, spring
styles, $2.00 values at $1.25.
Boys' fine Bqx Calf, extension
sole shoes, $1.50 values at SI.OO.
Men's Heavy Sole, lace work
ing shoes, $1.35 values at 90c.
Girl's fine Dress shoes, patent
tipped, SI.OO values at 50c.
Men's High-cut, heavy sole,
box t e shoes, $2 va!i'e> at $1.25.
Ladies' fine Slippers, satin,
velvet and leather, all sizes, SI.OO
values at 35c.
Ladies' fine Jersey over-gaiters,
50c values at 15c.
Women's Fine Shoes,
Lace or button at 85c, $ 1 1- 2 5
and $1.50 —up to the minute
in style. »
Business Shoes.
Stylish footwear for business
men; tan box and Russia calf,
fine vici kids, velour calf, pat
ent calf that have ease and
comfort as well as wear in them
at $2, $2.50, $3 and $3.50.
Men's Patent Leather.
Full dress affairs at $2.50,
$3.50. $4 and ss, that vou must
have to be well dressed; shoes
j that go into the very best soci
ety and feel at home there.
Men's Working Shoes
in oil grain and heavy veal,
two sole and tap bellus tongue,
at sl, $1.25 and $1.50; Hox
toe at $1 50, $2 and $2.50; ir.
fine satins for dress at SI.OO,
$1.25 and $1.50.
Thoiman.l* aro Tryinc It.
In order to proTe the great merit of
Eiv's Cream Balm, th<» most effective cure
lor Catarrh atid Col l ' in K?a<L we have pre
pi-. 1 a generous trial size for It) cents.
Gu it of your druggist or send 10 cents to
ELY BROS., 56 Warren St., N. V. City.
I suffered from catarrh of the wor-t Kind
ever since a bov. ami 1 never h"t 1 for
cure, but Ely's Cream Balm seen r. do
even that. Many acquaintanc. s ha-- 'i- d
it with excellent results. —Oscar Ustrum.
43 SVarren Ave., Chicago, 111.
Elv's Cream Balm is the acknowledged
cure "for catarrh and contains no cocaine,
mercury nor any injurious drug. Pr: e.
60 cents. At druggists or l>y mail.
new trunk line between Pittsburg.
Butler, Bradford, Rochester and
On and after Jan. 1, 1»0<>, passenger
trains will leave Butler, P. A: W. Sta
tion as follows, Eastern Standard Time
10:12 a.m. Vestibuled Limited, daily,
for Dayton, Punxsutawney. Du
Bois. Ridgway, Bradford, Buffalo
and Rochester.
5:2-> p.m. Accommodation, week days
only, Craigsville, Dayton. Punxsu
tawney, Dnßios, Falls Creek,
Curwenfnrille. Clearfield and inter
mediate stations
6:45 a.m. Week days only: mixed train
for Craigsville, Dayton, Punxsu
tawney and intermediate points.
This train leaves Punxsutawney at
1:00 p.m. arriving at Butler at ">:45
p.m . stopping at all intermediate
Thousand mile tickets good for pas
sage between all stations on the B. K.
& PR'y and N. Y. C. R. R. (Penn'a.
division) at 2 cents per mile.
For tickets, time tables and fnrthei
information call 011 or address.
W. R. Tt'RNER, Agt.
Butler, Pa., or
Edward C. Lapey.
Gen'l Pass. Agent,
Rochester, N. Y.
P., Bessemer & L E.
Trains depart: No 14, at 9:15 A. M;
No. 2, at 4 50 P. M. Butler tiuie.
Trains arrive :No. 1, 9:50 A. M; No.
11, 2:55 P. M. Butler time.
No. 14 rnns through to Erie and con
nects with W. N. Y. & P. at Huston
Junction for Franklin and Oil City,
and with Erie Railroad at Shenan
JJO for all points east. No. 2 runs
through to Greenville and connects with
W N. Y. & P. for Franklin and Oil
City, and at Shenango with Erie R. R.
for points east and west.
W. R. TuKtfER, Ticket Agent.
Railway. Schedule of Pas-
F»:nger Trains in eflect Nov. 19,
| Depart. Arrive.
Allegheny Accommodation. ..... 62> A.* 907 A.M
Allegheny Express ® " •' JJ |J
Vew < a.<stle Accommodation K o.> 4 J »'7
\kron Mail 8 <* *•» 7 '« P ."
Allegheny Fast Kxpren* 58 44 12 18
Ulegheny Kxpre** 3«» p.* 1 f' l'» l
hicago Express 3 40 pm 12 18 am*
Mlegheir*' Mail 6 50 44
Ulegheny and New Castle Accom 560 " <Cm
hicagi Limited 560 " 907 A.m
Xiine and Bradford Mail 9:50 A.M 2 r «» P.M
Marion Accommodation 4 55 i*.m 9 1" A.M
Mevelaud and Chicago Express...! 0 25 am
Ulegheny Expreas 8 05 A.M 9 3oa.M
tllegheuy Accommodation 660 i\M 03 p.M
Sew Oa-tle Accommodation 8 05 A.M 7 03
hicago Express 340 P.M r » (tt am
Mle/theny Accommodation 7 03 pm
Train arrfvitg at 5.03 p.m. leave* R. A <>. .lejN.t
l*itt at 3.25 p.m and I'. <fc MAllegheny at 3.3. >
On Satuidays a train, known a* the theatre train,
Mill leave Butler at 6.50 p. m., arriving at Allegheny
tt 7.20; returning leave Allegheny at 11.-W p. m.
Pullman (deeping rant i Kxpres* between
Pittnburg and Uhh ago.
For through ticket* to all points In the west, north
went or southwest and information regarding route*,
time of trains, etc. apply .t<>
W. li. TURNER, Ticket Agent,
It. 11. REYNOLDS, Snp% N. D., Butler, Pa.
liutler, Pa. C. W. BASSETT,
f». P. A., Allegber«*, Pa
Sup't. W AL. Dir.. Allegheuj Pa.
Hchkmlk is ErrncT Nov. 20, 1899
A. M A.M. A.M P. M. P. M.
BUTLKR Leave 6 25 m 05 |o 60 2 :i6 5 06
Saxonhurg Arrive ft 64 8 30 11 1"» 3 00 5 28
Butler Junction.. " 7 27 8 53 11 4»» 3 2 * ■> u\
liutler Junction.. .Leave 7 31 8 63 11 52 3 2» .» 53
Natrona Arrive 7 4u 9 01 12 01 •' 34 ft o*2
Tar en turn 7 41 9 07 12 Um' 3 42 ft 07
Springdale 7 62 9 Ift 12 19 J •>- ....
Clareino.it 19 3o l 2 38' 4 Oft ....
Sharpsburg 8 II !> 3ft 12 4* 1 12 ♦» 32
Allegheny 1 & 24 948 102 1- » ft l i
A M. A.M P. M P. M P. M.
SUNDAY TRAINS. —Leavn Butler for Allegheny
City and priucij>al intermediate station* at 7:30 a ui,
ina 6:0o p. m.
A. M.i A. M. A. M P. M. P M
Allegheny fity. ..leave 700 86610 45 3 1»» 0 10
Sharpabtirg 7 12 9 "07 10 57'
Ciaremout .... II 0-1 .... ....
Sj-imgdale | .... 11 18 •••• r » •»'
Taretttum 7 37 !» M 11 JK 4'. ♦. 40
Natrona 741 »38 11 il :t 6o »i r »l
Butler Junction..arrive 7 4«. 94711 43 •'»- 700 j
Butler Junction—leave 7 48. 'J 47 12 1* I o<". 7 'Mi ;
Saxonl'iirg 8 15; 10 09 12 41 1 .'»• 724 j
BI'TLEIt. arrive M 40-10 32 1 10 5 05 7 50 j
A. M.'A. M. P. M jP. P. M
SUNDAY TRAINS.—Leave Allegheny < ity for But
ler and print ifial intermediate stations at 7.15 a m. and
9-30 p. ru.
Weeks Davn. Sundays
A. M. A M P. M. A M. P M
lli'Ti.Kit Iv 0 25 10 50 2 36 ' 7 'V> 6
Butter jit::::.:. <» r 7n n ™
Butler J'ct lv 74M II 43| 368 821 805
Freein.rt ar 7 51 11 4» 4 02 , 8 25 807
KinkiiuiuotM J't " 765 11 60 407 82 > m 11 (
li«*echhiirg " H 07112 02' I l!» 8 IL 823 ,
Paultou (A|xillo).... w 82012 22 140 86sk 42
Balt*t urg " 8 61112 49 508 9 2-3 909
Bluiroville „ 9 2-1 1 2«» 641 962 940 j
Blainville Int. .. 44 930 1 560 10 00 j
Altoona " II :•• • 546 860 546 . .. I
liariixburg *' 3 10j 10 00 I "O 10 00 :
Philadelphia. u ft 2.i 425 426 4 2 » |
P. M.jA. M.i A. M. A. H. P. M.
Through traiuo for the leave Pitt*l>urg (Unl«»n |
Station), aa follows: —
Atlantic Kxprem, daily 2:60a.m !
Pennsylvania Limited 44 7:15 **
I>ay Express. u 7:30 M
>1 tin Linn K*.pn hh, 44 BHS) 44
llarrisburg Mail, 44 12 16 P M
Pit ila lei ph in Exprew, 1:50 44
Mail and Exprens daily. For New York only.
Through hutlet sleeper; no coacted 7:<Si
Eanler n Expr<iM, ' .... 71" •'
K.ft Um, 4 MO**
Pittfiburg Limited, daily, with through coaches
to New York, arid sleeping earn t«» New York,
Baltimore and Wiutliington only. No extra
tare on this train 10:00 u
Fhilad'a Mail, Suu«la% i «>n»y 8:40 A.M
For Atlantic Uity (via Delaware River Brelfce, all
rail route), 8:0o A.M, and M : :u» P.M, daily.
For detailed information, address Thos. K. Watt, PaM. 1
Agt. Western District, Corner Fifth Avenue and Smith*
field Street, Pittsburg, Pa.
»«un ral Maiuiaer. tien' l "unr, Anetic
Practical Horse Shoers
Formerly Ilorse Shoer at the
Wick 1 louse lias opened busi
ness in a shop iti the rear of
the Arlington Hotel, where
lie will, do" Horse-Shoeing in
the most approved style.
| West Winfield Hotel,
§W.G. LUSK, Prop'r .
l'irst Class Table anil Lodgings,
(ias and Spring Water all through
Good Stabling.
" ®• » 8 : » ■■■ I S * **" •" '**** ' - *.
IPISTW? .5 „ I
'■it -e ({) OLIVE Ig
V r iLlr --J I A SCI£RELN"ER. v. ."
8 SMM FIII ~ 1
* .»»; . . il' ; •»?; . »*?. • *'/ •_ -J \
•% • s*• % ? . ,• • • ;«• * i 9 **• ** • * «
nE SETS 1113 TRAP.
"Mar I come In? I hope I ilo not
disturb you, my dear friend." said Bo
naparte late one evening, putting his
nose in at the cabin door, where the
German and his son sat finishing their
It was two months since he had been
installed as schoolmaster in Taut' San
nie's household, and he had grown
mighty aud more mighty day by day.
He visited the cabin no more, sat close
to Taut' Sannie drinking coffee all the
evening and walked about loftily with
his hands under the coattails of the
German's black cloth aud failed to see
even a nigger who wished him a defer
ential good morning. It was therefore
with no small surprise that the German
perceived Bonaparte's red nose at his
"Walk iu. walk in," he said joyfully.
"Boy, boy. see if there is coffee left.
Well. none. Make a lire. We have
done supper, but"—
"My dear friend," said Bonaparte,
taking off iiis hat, "I came not to sup.
not for mere creature comforts, but for
an hour of brotherly intercourse with a
kindred spirit. The press of business
aud the weight of thought, but they
alone, may sometimes prevent ine from
sharing the secrets of my bosom with
him for whom I have so great a sym
pathy. Vou perhaps wonder when I
shall return the two pounds"-
"Oh. no. no! Make a tire, make a tire,
boy. We will have a pot of hot coffee
pre. cully." said the German, rubbing
his i a lids and looking about, not know
ing ho best to show It is pleasure at
the unexpected visit.
For three weeks the German's diffi
dent "Good evening" had met with a
stately bow. the chin <>f Bonaparte
lifting itself higher daily, and his shad
ow had not darkened the cabin door
way since he came to borrow the two
pounds. The German Walked to the
head of the bed aud took down a blue
bag that hung there. Blue bags were
a specialty "of the Germans lie kept
above 50 stowed away in different cor
ners of his room, some tilled with curi
ous stones, some with seeds that had
been in his possession 15 years, some
with rusty nails, buckles and bits of
old harness, in all a wonderful assort
ment, but highly prized.
"We have something here not so
bad." said the Herman, smiling know
ingly. ,fs he dived Ills band iuio the bag
and took out a handful of almonds and
raisins. "I liny these for my chickens.
They Increase in size, but they still
think the old man must have some
thing nice for them. And the old man
—well, a bis boy may have a sweet
tooth sometimes, may he not? Ha.
ha!" said I lie German, chuckling at Ills
own Joke, as he heaped the plate with
almonds. "Here is a stone, two stones,
to crack them, no late patent improve
ment—well. Adam'n nutcracker. Ha,
ha! But I think we shall do We will
not leave theui uncraeked. We will
consume a few without fashionable im
Here the (ierinan sat down or. one
Aide of the table, Bonaparte on the
other, each one with a couple of Hat
stones before him and the plate be
tween them.
"Do not be afraid." said the German,
"do not be afraid. 1 do not forget the
boy at the Are. 1 crack for him. The
bag is full. Why. this is strange," he
said suddenly, cracking open a large
nut. "three kernels! I have not observ
ed that before. This must be retain
ed. This is valuable." He wrapped
the nut gravely in paper and put it
carefully in his waistcoat pocket. "Val
uable, very valuable," lie said, shaking
his head.
"Ah. my friend," said Bonaparte,
"what Joy it is to be once more in yoar
The German's eye glistened, and
I'.' naparte seized his hand and squeez
ed it warmly. They then proceeded
to crack and eat. After awhile Bona
parte said, stuffing a handful of raisins
into his mouth:
"I was so deeply grieved, my dear
friend, that you and Tant' Sannie had
some slight unpleasantness this even
"Oh, nrt. no!" said the German. "It
Is all right now. A few sheep missing,
but I make It good myself. I give my
12 sheep and work in the other eight."
"It Is rather hard that you should
have to make good the lost sheep," said
Bonaparte. "It is no fault of yours."
"Well," said the German, "this Is
the ease: Last evening I count the
sheep at the kraal. Twenty are miss
ing. 1 ask the herd. Ho tells me they
are with tlie other flock; lie tells me
so distinctly. How can I think he lies?
This afternoon 1 count the other (lock.
The sheep are not there. I come back
here. The herd is gone; the slieop are
gone. But I cannot—no, I will not—
believe he stole them," said the Ger
man, growing suddenly excited. "Some
one else, but not he. I know that boy.
1 knew him three years. He ie a good
boy. I have seen him deeply affect
ed on account of his soul. And she
would send the police after him! I say
I would rather make the loss good my
self. I will not have It. He has fled
In fear. 1 know his heart. It was,"
said the German, with a little gentle
hesitation, "under my words that he
first felt his need of a Saviour."
Bonaparte cracked some more al
monds, then said, yawning, and more
ns though lie asked for the sake of
having something to converse about
than from any Interest he felt In the
subject: *
"And what has become of the herd's
The German was alight again In a
"Yes; his wife. She has a child 0
days old. and Tant' Sannie would turn
her out Into the fields this night. That,"
said the German, rising, "that Is what
1 call cruelty, diabolical cruelty. My
soul abhors that deed. The man that
could do such a thing 1 could run him
through with a knife!" said the Gor
man, his gray eyes flashing and his
bushy black beard adding to the mur
derous fury 'if tils aspect. Then, sud
denly subsiding, he said: "But all Is
now well. Tant' Sannie gives her word
that the maid shall remain for some
days. I go to Oom Muller's tomorrow
to learn If the sheep may not be there.
If they are not. then I return. They
are gone; that Is all. I make It good. '
"Tant' Sannie Is a singular woman,"
said Bonaparte, taking the tobacco bag
the German passed to him.
"Singular: Yes," said the German;
"but her heart is on her right side. 1
have lived long years with her, and I
may say I have for her an affection
which she returns. 1 may say,' added
the German, with warmth—"l may say
that there is not one soul 011 this farm :
for whom 1 have not an affection.
"Ah. my friend." said Bonaparte, j
"when the grace of God is in our
hearts, is it not so with us all? Do we
not love the very worm we tread upon j
and as we tread upon it? Do we know
distinctions of race or of sex or of col
or? No!
••tove so amazing, so divint,
It fills my soul, my life, my *11." I
After a time he sank Into a less fer
vent mood and remarked:
"The colored female who waits upon
Taut' Sanuie appears to be of a vir
tuous disposition, an individual v. ho
"Virtuous!" said the German. "1
have confidence In her. There is that
In her which is pure, that which is no
ble The rich and high that walk this
earth with lofty eyelids might ex
change with her."
The German here got up to bring a
coal for Bonaparte's pipe, and they
sat together talking for awhile. At
length Bonaparte knocked the ashes
out of his pipe.
"It Is time that I took my departure,
dear friend." he said, "but before 1
do so shall we not close th's evening
of sweet communion and brotherly in
tercourse by a few words of prayer?
Oh. how good and how pleasant a
thing it is for brethren to dwell togeth- |
er iu unity! It is like the dew upon
the mountains of Hermou, for there
the Lord bestowed a blessing, even life
for evermore."
"Stay aud driuk some coffee," said
the German.
"No. thank you. my friend. I have
business that must be done tonight,"
said Bonaparte. "Your dear soil ap
pears to have goue to sleep. He is go
ing to take the wagon to the mill to
morrow. What a little man he Is!"
"A tine boy."
But, though the boy nodded before
the fire, he was uot asleep, and they
all knelt down to pray.
When they rose from their knees,
Bonaparte extended his hand to AAaldo
and patted him on the head.
"Good night, my lad," he said. "As
you go to the mill tomorrow we shall
not see you for some days. Good
night. Goodby. The Lord bless and
guide you. and* may he bring you back
lo us iu safety to find us all as you
have left 11s!" He laid some emphasis
on the last words. "And you. my dear
friend." he added, turning with re
doubled warmth to the German, "long,
long shall I look back to this evening
as a time of refreshment from the
presence of the Lord, as an hour of
blessed intercouse with a brother In
Jesus. May such often return! The
Lord bless you." lie added, with yet
deeper fervor, "richly, richly!"
Then he opened the door and vanish
ed out Into the darkness.
"lie. ho. he!" laughed Bonaparte as
ho stumbled over the stones. "If there
isn't the rarest lot of fools on this farm
that ever God Almighty stuek legs to!
He, he, he! When the worms como
out, then the blackbirds feed. Ha, ha,
ha!" Then he drew himself up. Even
when alone lie liked to pose with a cer
tain dignity. It was second nature to
He looked in nt the kitchen door.
The Hottentot maid who acted as in
terpreter between Taut' Saunie and
himself was gone, and Taut' Sannie
herself was in bed.
"Never mind, Kou, my boy," he said
as he walked tound to his own room.
"Tomorrow will do. He, he, he!"
At l o'clock the next afternoon the
German rode across the plain, return
ing from his search for the lost sheep.
He rode slowly, for he had beeu in the
saddle since sunrise and was some
what weary, and the heat of the after
noon made his horse sleepy as it picked
its way slowly along the sandy road.
Every now and then a great red spider
would start out of the "karroo" on one
side of the path and run across to the
other, but nothing else broke the still
monotony. Presently, behind one of
the highest of the milk bushes that
dotted the roadside, the German caught
sight of a Kaffir woman, seated there
evidently for such shadow as the milk
bush might afford from the sloping
rays of the sun. The German turned
the horse's head out of the raid. It
was not his way to pass a living crea
ture without a word of greeting. Com
ing nearer, he found it was no other
than the wife of the absconding Kaffir
herd. She had a baby tied on her back
by a dirty strip of red blanket. An
other strip hardly larger was twisted
round her waist, for the rest of her
black body was naked. She was a
sullen, ill looking woman, with lips
hideously protruding.
The German questioned her as to
how she came there. She muttered in
broken Dutch that six? had been turned
away. Had she done evil? She shook
her head sullenly. Had she had food
given her? She grunted a negative
and fanned the flies from her baby.
Telling the woman to remain where
she was, he turned his horse's bead to
the road and rode off nt a furious pace.
"Hard hearted! Cruel! O my God!
Is this the way? Is this charity? Yes,
yes, yes!" ejaculated the old man as ho
rode on, but presently his anger be
gan to evaporate, his horse's pace
slackened, and by the time lie had
reached his own door lie was nodding
and smiling.
Dismounting quickly, he went to the
great chest where his provisions were
kept. Here he got out a little meal, a
few mealies, a few roaster cakes.
These he tied up in throe blue handker
chiefs, and, putting them Into a sail
cloth bag, he strung them over his
shoulders. Then lie looked circum
spectly out at the door. It was very
bad to bo discovered iu the act of giv
ing It made him red up to the roots
of Ids old grizzled hair. No one was
about, however, so lie rode off again.
Before the milk bush sat the Katilr
woman still, like Hagar, lie thought,
thrust out by lier mistress in the wil-
I derncss to die. Telling her to loosen
; the handkerchief from her head, he
I poured into it the contents of ills bag.
The woman tied it up in sullen sileuce.
"You must try to get to the next
farm," said the Herman.
The woman shook hoc head. She
would sleep In the field.
The German reflected. Kaffir women
were accustomed to sloop in the open
I air, but then tin- child M:m small, and
after so hot a day the night might lie
chill v. That she would creep back to
the huts at the homestead when the
darknes" favored her the German's
sagacity did u> t make evident to him. :
lie took off the old brown salt aud
pepper • :■: and 1M I! it out to her. The |
wot»nu iv>-eiveil it in s lenee and laid it j
her knee. "With that they will !
sleep warmly, not so bad. Ha, ha, ha!
sal<i-tl;e German. And he rode home,
nodding his bead iu a manner that
would have made any other man dizzy. j
"I wish he would not come back to
night." said Em. her face wet with j
"It will be just the same if lie conies !
back tomorrow," said Lyndall.
The two girls sat on the step of the !
cabin waiting for the German's re- :
turn. Lyndall shaded her eyes with
her hand from the sunset light.
"There he comes," she said, "whis- ,
tling 'Aeh Jerusalem du schone!* so I
loud I can hear him here."
"Perhaps he has found the sheep."
"Found them!" said Lyndall. "He
would whistle just so if he knew he
had to die tonight."
"You look at the sunset, eh, chick
ens?" the German said as he came up
at a smart canter. "Ah. yes. that is
beautiful!" he added as he dismount- j
ed. pausing for a moment with his
hand on the saddle to look at the even
ing sky. where the sun shot up long
flaming streaks, between which and
the eye thin yellow clouds floated. "El,
you weep?" said the German as the
girls ran up to him.
Before they had time to reply the
voice of Taut' Sannie was heard.
"You child of the child of the child
of a Kaffir's dog. come here!"
The German looked up. He thought
tin- Dutchwoman, come out to cool her
self in the yard, called to some misbe
having servant. The old man looked
round to see who it might be.
"Yon old vagabond of a praying Ger
man, are you deaf?"
Taut' Sannie stood before the steps
if the kitchen. Upon them sat the
lean Hottentot. Upon the highest
stood Bonaparte Itleukius, both hands
folded under the tails of his coat and
his eyes fixed 011 the suuset sky.
The German dropped the saddle on
the ground.
"Bish, bish, bish! What may this
be?" he said and walked toward the
house. "Very strange!"
The girls followed him, Em still
weeping. Lyndall with her face rather
white and her eyes wide open.
"And I have the heart of a devil, did
you say? You could run me through
with a knife, could you?" cried the
Dutchwoman. "1 could not drive the
Kaffir maid away because I was afraid
nf yoi as I? Oh. you miserable rag!
I loved you, did I? i would have liked
to marry you, would I, would I, would
It" cried the Boer woman. "You cat's
tail, you dog's paw! Be near my house
tomorrow morning when the sun
rises," she gasped, "my Kaffirs will
drag you through the sand. They
would do it gladly, any of them, for a
bit of tobacco, for all your prayings
with them."
"I am bewildered, I am bewildered,"
said the German, standing before her
Bud raising ids hand to his forehead.
"I—l do not understand."
"Ask him, ask him!" cried Taut' San
nie, pointing to Bonaparte. "He knows.
You thought he could not make me
understand, but he did, he did, you old
fool! 1 know enough English for that.
You be here," shouted the Dutchwo
man. "when the morning star rises,
and 1 will let my Kaliirs take you out
and drag you till there is not one bone
left in your old body that is not bro
ken as line as bwbootie meat, yoti old
beggar! All your rags are not worth
that they should be thrown out on to
the ash heap," cried the Boer woman,
"but 1 will have them for my sheep!
Not one rotten hoof of your ok 1 mare
do you take with you. I will have her
-ail. all for my sheep that you havo
lost, you godless Hiing!"
The Boer won.au wiped the moisture
from her mouth with the palm of her
The German turned to Bonaparte,
who still stood on the step absorbed in
the beauty of the sunset.
"Do uot address me, do not approach
me, lost man," said Bonaparte, not
moving his eye nor lowering his chin.
"There is a crime from which all na
ture revolts; there is a crime whose
name is loathsome to the human ear.
That crime is yours; that crime is in
gratitude. This woman has been your
benefactress. On her farm you have
lived, after her sheep you have looked,
into her house you have been allowed
to enter and hold Divine service, an
honor of which you were never worthy,
and how have you rewarded her?
Basely, basely, basely!"
"But it is all false, lies and false
hoods. i must, I will speak," said the
German, suddenly looking round, be
wildered. "I)o 1 dream? Are you
mad? What may It be'/"
"Go, dog!" cried the Dutchwoman.
"1 would have been a rich woman tills
day if it had not been for your lazi
ness, praying with the Kaffirs behind
the kraal walls. Go, you Kaffir dog!"
"But what then is the matter? What
inny have happened since I left'/" said
the German, turning to the Hottentot
woman who sat upon the step.
She was his friend; she would tell
him kindly the truth. The woman an
swered by a loud, ringing laugh.
"Give It him, old missis! Give it
It was so nice to see the white man
who had boon master hunted down.
The colored woman laughed nud threw
a dozen mealie grains Into her mouth
to chew.
All auger and excitement faded from
the old man's face, lie turned slowly
away and walked down the little path
to his cabin, with ills shoulders bent.
It was all dark before him. He stum
bled over the threshold of his own well
kuown door.
Em, sobbing bitterly, would have
followed him, but the Boor woman pre
vented her by a flood of speech which
convulsed the Hottentot, so low were
Its Images.
"Come, Em," said Lyndall, lifting
her small, proud head, "let us go in.
We will not stay to hear such lan
She looked into the Boer woman's
eyes. Tant' Sannie understood the
meaning of the look if not the words.
She waddled after them and caught
Em by the arm. She had struck Lyn
dall once years before and had never
done it again, so she took Em.
"So you will defy me, too, will you,
you Englishman's ugliness!" she cried
as with one hand fdie forced the child
down and held her head tightly against
her knee. With the other she beat her
first upon one cheek and then upon the
For one Instant Lyndall looked on.
Then she laid her small lingers on the
Boer woman's arm. With (lie exertion
of half Ikt strength Tant' Saunie might
have flung the girl back upon the
stones. It was not the power of the
slight fingers, tlghfly though they
clinched her broad wrist, so tightly
that at bedtime the marks were still
there, but the Boer woman looked info
the clear eyes and at the quivering
whip' lip rind with »i half surprised
curse re la vd her hold. The girl drew
Kin's arm through her own.
"Move!" she said to Itoimparte. who
Htood In th<* ihxir. -iri<l he. Bonaparte
the Invlnelhh in the hour of' his tri
umph, moved to glverier place. _
The Hottentot ceased to laugh, and
an uncomfortable silence fell on all the
three iu the doorway.
Once In their room, Km sat down on
the floor and wailed bitterly. Lyndall
lay ou the bed. with her arm drawn |
across her eyes, very white and still.
"Hoo, hoo!" cried Em. "And they
won't let him take the gray mare, and
Waldo has gone to the mill. Hoo, hoo! ,
And perhaps they won t let us go and j
|:iv goodby to him. Hoo, hoo, hoo!"
"I wish you would be quiet," said
Lyndall without moving. "Does It :
give you such felicity to let Bonaparte j
know he is hurting you? We will ask
no one. It will be supper time soon, j
Listen, and when you hear the chink of
the knives and forks we will go out j
and see him."
Em suppressed her sobs and listened •
intently, kneeling at the door. Sud- j
denlj some one came to the window
and put the shutter up.
"Who was that?" said Lyndall, start
ing. ,
"The girl, I suppose," said Em. "How i
early she is this evening*'
But Lyndall sprang from the bed and
seized tlie handle of the door, shaking
it fiercely The door was locked on
the outside. She ground her teeth.
"What is the matter?" asked Em.
The room was iu perfect darkness
"Nothing," said Lyndall quietly, "on
ly they have locked us in."
She turned and went back to bed
again. But ere long Em heard a sound
of movement. Lyndall had climbed
up into the window and with her fin
gers felt the woodwork that surround
ed the panes. Slipping down, the girl
loosened the Iron knob from the foot
of the bedstead, and, climbing up
■ gain, she broke with It every pane of
glass in the window, beginning at the
top and ending at the bottom.
"What are you doing?" asked Em,
who heard the falling fragments.
Her companion made her no reply,
but leaned on every little crossbar,
which cracked and gave way beneath
her. Then she pressed with all her
strength against the shutter. She had
thought the wooden buttons would
give way. but by the clinking sound
she knew that the iron bar had been
put across. She was quite quiet for a
time. Clambering down, she took from
the table a small one bladcd penknife,
with which she began to peek at the
hard wood of the shutter.
"What are you doing now?" asked
Em, who had ceased crying in her won
der and had drawn near.
"Trying to make a hole," was the
short reply.
"Do you think you will be able to?"
"No, but I am trying."
Iu an agony of suspense Em waited.
For ten minutes Lyndall pecked. The
hole was three-eighths of an Inch deep.
Then the blade sprang into ten pieces.
"What has happened now?" asked
Em, blubbering afresh.
"Nothing," said Lyndall. "Bring ine
my nightgown, a piece of paper and
the matches."
Wondering, Em fumbled about till
she found them.
"What are you going to do with
them?" she whispered.
"Burn down the window."
"But won't the whole house take fire
and burn down too?"
"But will it not be very wicked?"
"Yes, very, and I do not care."
She arranged the nightgown careful
ly In the corner of the window, with
the chips of the frame at>out it. There
was only one match In the box. She
drew it carefully along the wall. For
a moment it burned up blue and show
ed the tiny face with its glistening
eyes. She held it carefully to the pa
per. For an Instant It burned up
brightly, then flickered and went out.
She blew the spark, but It died also.
Then she threw tbe paper on to the
ground, trod on it and went to her bed
and began to undress.
Em rushed to the door, knocking
against it wildly.
"Oh, Tant' Sannie, Tant' Sannie! Oh,
let us out!" she cried. "Oh, Lyndall,
what are we to do?"
Lyndall wiped a drop of blood off
the lip she had bitten.
"I atn going to sleep," she said. "If
you like to sit there and howl till the
morning, do. I'erhaps you will Hud
that it helps. I never heard that howl
lug helped any one."
Long after, when Em herself had
gone to bed and was almost asleep,
Lyndall came and stood at her bed
"Here," she said, slipping a little pot
of powder into her hand, "nub some
on your face. Does It not burn where
she struck you?"
Then she crept back to her own bed.
Long, long after, when Em was really
asleep, she lay still awake and folded
her hands on her little breast and mut
tered :
"When that day comes and 1 am
strong, I will hate everything that has
power and help everything that Is
weak." And she bit her lip again.
The German looked out at the cabin
door for the last time that night. Then
he paced the room slowly and sighed.
Then he drew out a pen and paper and
sat down to write, rubbing his old
gray eyes with his knuckles before he
Mv Chickens—You did not come to say goodby
to the old man. Might you? Ah, well, there Is
a land where they part no more, where saints im
mortal reign.
1 sit here alone, and I think of you. Will you
forget the old man? When you wake tomorrow,
he will be far away. Tb» old horse Is 3azv, but
he has his stick to help him. That is three legs,
lie comes hack one day with gold and diamonds.
Will you welcome hint? Well, we shall see. 1
go to meet Waldo, lie comes back with the
wagon. Then he follows me. Poor boyl God
knows. There Is a land where all things are
made right, but that land Is not here.
My little children, serve the Saviour. Give your
hearts to him whilo you are yet young. Life is
Nothing Is mine; otherwise I would say, Lyu
dall, take my books, Em my stones. Now I say
nothing. The things are mine. It is not right
eous. Ood knows. Hut I am Bilent. Let It be.
Hut I teel It. I mint say I feel it.
Do not cry too much for the old man. He goes
out to seek his fortune and comes back with It in
a bag. It may be. ....
1 love my children. Do they think of me?
ain old Otto, who goes out to seek his fortune.
O. F.
Having concluded this quaint pro
duction, he put it where the children
would find it the next morning and
proceeded to prepare his bundle. He
never thought of entering a protest
against the loss of his goods. Like a
child lie submitted and wept. He had
been there 11 years, and it was hard to
go away, lie spread open on the bed
It blue handkerchief and on It put one
i by one the things he thought most
necessary and Important—a little bag
of curious seeds which lie meant to
plant some day, an old German hymn
book, throe misshapen stones that he
greatly valued, a Bible, a shirt and two
handkerchiefs. Then there was room
for nothing more. He tied up the bun
dle tightly and put It on a cha'r by
hia bedside.
"That Is not much. They cannot say
I take much," he said, looking at it
He put his knotted stlek beside it,
his blue tobacco bag and his short pipe,
aiid then Inspected his coats. He had
two loft, a moth eaten overcoat and a
blnek alpaea out at the elbows. He
decided for the overcoat. It was warm
certainly, but then he could carry it
over ills arm and only put It on when
Jhe met some one aloug the road. It
' was more respectable tliau the black
alpaca. n«- nung tne grean-oat over
lb'' buck of the chair and stuffed a liaril
bit of roaster cake under the knot <>f
the bundle, and then his preparations
were completed. The tierman stotnl
contemplating them with much satia
faction. He had almost forgotten his
sorrow at leaving in his pleasure at
prepariug. Suddenly lie An
exr ression of iuteuse pain passed, over
his fare. He drew back his left arm
quickly and then pressed his right baud
upon his breast.
"Ah. the sudden pang again!" he
His face was white, but It quickly re
gained its color. Then the old man
busied himself In putting everything
"I will leave It neat. They shall not
say I did not leave it neat," IK said.
Even the little bags of seeds on the
mantelpiece he put In rows and dusted.
Then he undressed and got into bed.
Under his pillow was a little story
book. He drew It forth. To the old
German a story was no story. Its
events were as real and as Important
to himself as the matters of his own
life. He could not go away without
knowing whether that wicked earl re
lented and whether the baron married
Euiilina. So he adjusted his spectacles
ami began to read. Occasionally, as
his feelings became too strongly mov
ed. he ejaculated: "Ah, I thought so!
That was a rogue. X saw it before. I
knew it from the beginning." More
than half an hour had passed when he
looked up to the silver watch at the
top of his bed.
I "The march is long tomorrow. This
will not do." he said, taking off his
spectacles and putting them carefully
into the book to mark the place. "This
will be good reading as I walk aloug
tomorrow," he added as he stuffed the
book into the pocket of the greatcoat,
"very good reading." He nodded his
head and lay down. He thought a lit
tle of His own troubles, a good deal of
the two little girls he was leaving, of
the earl, of Emiliua, of the baron, but
he was soon asleep, sleeping as peace
fully as a little child upon whose inno
cent soul sorrow and care cannot rest.
It was very quiet in the room. The
coals in the fireplace threw a dull red
light across the floor upon the. red
lions on the quilt. Eleven o'clock
came, and the room was very still. One
o'clock came. The glimmer had died
out. though the ashes were still warm,
and the room was very dark. The gray
mouse which had its hole under the
tool box came out and sat on the sacks
in the corner. Then, growing bolder,
the room was so dark, It climbed the
chair at the bedside, nibbled at the
roaster cake, took one bite quickly nt
the candle and then sat on its haunch
es listening. It heard the even breath
ing of the old man and the steps of the
hungry Kallir dog going his last round
In search of a bone or a skin that had
been forgotten, and It heard the white
lien call out as the wildcat ran away
with one of her brood, and It heard the
chicken cry. Then the gray mouse
went back to its hole under the tool
box, and the room was quiet. And 2
o'clock came. By that time the uight
was grown dull and cloudy. The wild
cat had gone to Its home on the "kop
je." The Kaffir dog had found a bone
and lay gnawing it.
An intense quiet reigned everywhere.
Only In her room the Boer woman toss
ed her great arms in her sleep, for she
dreamed that a dark shadow with out
stretched wings fled slowly over her
house, and she moaned and shivered.
And the night was very still.
But, quiet as all places were, there
was a quite peculiar quiet In the Ger
man's room. Though you strained
your ear most carefully, you caught
no sound of breathing.
He was not gone, for the old coat
still liung on the chair, the coat that
was to be put on when he met any
one, and the bundle and stick were
ready for tomorrow's long march. The
old German himself lay there, his wavy
black hair just touched with gray
thrown back upon the pillow. The old
face was lying there alone In the dark,
smiling like a little child's—oh, so
peacefully! There is a stranger whose
coming, they say, Is worse than all the
Ills of life, from whose presence we
flee away trembling, but he comes
very tenderly sometimes, and it seem
ed almost as though death had known
and loved the old man, so gently It
touched him. And how could it deal
hardly with him— the loving, simple,
childlike old man?
So it smoothed out the wrinkles that
were in the old forehead and flsed the
passing smile and sealed the eyes that
they might not weep again, and then
the short sleep of time was melted into
the long. long sleep of eternity.
"How lias he grown so young in this
one night?" they said when they found
him in the morning.
Yes, dear old man, to such as you
time brings 110 age. You die with the -
purity and Innocence of your child
hood upon you, though you die In your
gray hairs.
| [TO BE coimNirra.l
!*o ( liaate to Fad®.
"Such conduct," said the teacher to a
rebellious pupil, "will eventually bring
your father's gray hairs with sorrow to
the grave."
"Don't you believe It," replied the In
corrigible youth. "The governor wears
a wig."
The man who will do anything for
his friends or anything to his enemies
frequently becomes known outside of
his own township.
A man who tries to win success In a
hurry. Intending to be worthy of It at
leisure, generally forgets the latter
part of the contract.
A man always feels foolish when he
first takes off bis hat to the girl he has
known from childhood.
Men who let the gas burn Just a lit
tle, In order to save matches, have
been known to succeed as financiers.
We may think people who always
agree with us are mushy, but some
how we keep on liking them.— Chicago
A FoolUb
Mamma- My dear, where have you
been all this time?
Daughter— Sitting up with a sick
M ALLIUM — NODSCDM. I believe you \ o
been In the parlor all the time with
that Mr. Softleigb.
daughter—Weil, ma, he's lovesick.—
itapl«- SnKiir -*The SCoderß
PrMruri mill I'rudurt,
Though tons of maple sugar are
made, for the most part in New York
iin.i Vermont, there are probably many
people living on farms throughout the
I nttt'il States who have no more clear
Idea of how maple sugar is made than
they have of the production of electric
ity, says a writer in Farm and Fire
side, from whose description of the
process the following items and illus
trations are reproduced:
The sugar maple is so called on ac
count of the sugar contained in the
sap. The person with no experience
rau hardly tell the difference between
it and water, as it is clear and spar
kliug and has but a faint taste of sug
ar. There is just about enougfc sugar
to make it a little sickisli.
In the fall the greater part of the sap
goes from the trunk and branches into
the roots, where, buried deep in the
ground; it will not be chilled. In the
spring, beginning in the latter part of
February or first of March, according
as the season is forward or backward,
the sap begins to ascend the body of
the tree, the greater part in the outer
layers o' the tree. Securing this sap
as it ascends and boiling It down con
stitutes the work of maple sugar mak
The first tiling is to get the sap. In
the early days before the bit and brace
an oblique notch was cut into the tree
near the ground, and from this wound
the sap would of course flow. Then un
der the lower corner of this wound a
curved hole wide from one 6ide of the
tree to the other, but narrow up and
down, was made with a "gouge," and
into this was driven a short wooden
spout of the same shape, which caught
the sap as it dropped from the cut, and
thus carried it to short wooden troughs
made by digging out basswood blocks.
After the bit and brace came into use
a hole was bored into the tree, and a
round spout made from a piece of su
mac from which the pith had been
burned out was driven into the hole to
convoy the sap to the trough.
Nest the wooden bucket came Into
use. By driving a nail into the tree un
der the spout the bucket could be hung
anywhere on the tree.
In the days of boiling in kettles color
was the last thing aimed at In mak
ing maple sugar, which was a dull
black when finished. Sweetness was
the main consideration, and there was
no incentive to keep out the dirt and
cinders, for black sugar was Just as
sweet, and sugar lighter than chocolate
was looked upon ITS having been adul
The next improvement was the largo
pan placed upon an arch made of stone
or brick. About the same time tin
buckets came Into use. A little later
the metallic spout was invented. This
Is now of such shape that It fills but a
small portion of the hole bored In the
tree, but is held so firmly that the buck
et Is supported by It. It allows sap to
flow from the outer layers of the tree
where there is the greatest amount of
nap, and that which makes the whitest
A few sugar makers have their plant
so arranged that the sap, or sirup, does
not touch wood after the sap leaves
the tree. At the present time color is
nil Important factor In the value of
maple sugar, and as wood tends to
color It wooden utensils of all kinds
have been discarded as far as possible.
The maple sugar now made Is of a
light straw color. Any darker than
AVF.HAOE noiLi.va ri.ACB or TODAT.
thnt will not command the highest
price, and If lighter adulteration with
refined sugar is suspected.
The sap Is gathered in a tank holding
about three barrels placed on a low
sled with wide runners. Roads are
made through the sugar bush so the
gathering tank can be driven near all
the trees.
The onion thrip has been very trou
blesome for several years in soinc sec
tions. It eats the foliage, giving a
white appearance to the leaves and
stopping growth. Sprayiug with whale
oil soap, one pound to eight gallons of
water, lias proved effective In destroy
ing It if applied early and often
"A Philadelphia paper offers a prize
for the best answer to the question,
•What Is the best way to avoid unhap
py marriages'/'"
"That's very easy. All you have to
do is to take Mr. Punch's advice to
those about to marry." Cleveland
Plain Dealer.
A Critical Moment.
She—You hesitated when I asked you
If I were the ouly girl you had ever
He—Yes; 1 couldn't tell from your
expression whether you wanted me to
say "No" or "Yes."-Indlunapolls Jour
A 1.1 11 it«r111 w Homicide.
"Who Is that young fellow over there
—the one running?"
"That's the C«ount de Castellane. He
Is rushing around the corner to kill a
French editor—by cablegram."—Cleve
land Plain Dealer.
Evil Effects.
"Didn't you send any of your chick
ens to the poultry show?"
"No. I've noticed that when a hen
acquires a taste for society she gets
too stuck up to lay eggs."—Chicago