VOL* xxxvii HUSELTON'S 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 serv ice in footwear develops in this store. Women's Shoes made especially to our o«der; dainty in appearance, of sub stantial 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, lace or but ton kid shoes, sizes 1 1 } 2 to 2, at 75c, sl, $1.25 and $1.50; 8A to 11, at 50c, 75, $1 and $1.25; 6 to 8 at 40c, ;oc, 75c and sl. Shoes for Boys, Including patent leather, vici kid, tan and Russia calf, sizes 2} 2 to SJ, at 90c, SI.OO, $1.25, $1.50 and $2.00. We are sole agents for the famous "Queen Quality" Shoes for Women, of this city, B. C. HUSELTON'S, Butler's Leading Shoe Douse. Opposite Hotel Lwry. BICKEL'S ♦SPRING AND SUMMER STYLES. The time of the year is here when you want a nice pair of dress shoes for summer wear. Our stock is extremly large, showing all the latest styles in fine shoes and oxfords in all leathers. We are offering some big values in footwear and it will pay you to see us before buying your summer shoes. A FEW OF OUR PRICES Men's Fine Tan Shoes— &1 9() Light shade, Lace or Congress at.. VfP • Boy's Fine Dress Shoes— 4k 1 ()() Box, Calf or Fine Vici Kid, light or heavy soles.. 1 ' Youth's Fine Calf or Vici Kid Shoes— Q( L. Hither Russett or Black at.. Ladies' Fine Dongola and Russett Shoes — 41; 1 _1 (I Lace or Congress, latest styles lasts at.. Misses' Fine Dongola and Russett Shoes— Q f Spring heels at.. Children's Fine Shoes — 3»5c Patent Tipped, sizes five to eight at.. Men's and Boy's Lawn Tennis Shoes— 4-Of And Slippers at.. Your Choice of Men's Working Shoes — J / UUjr I Jj or spending money. They ??Tto get the best possible results for theTT! » |Aj -,,y Ml | expended. Not cheap gootlsWC /< r\ 1'\ 2M.but goods as che ip as they can jU | Tfjsold for ;nd made up properly. IfQJ I |\\ I want the correct thing at the — \ ' rect price, call and examine ouogf. \ a*' i \ ! ] stock of SPRING WKIGIITS—3# \ V ('J 7 STYLES, SHADES AND#: J Fits and WorkmanshiD , \ i IH Guaranteed. £/< G f. Keen, 42 North Main Street, >: >: Butler, Pa Out of Style. Out of the World! ° ur " armcnts hav ' c a st y le that is "^ v !| " easily distinguished from the ordin — ary. They are the result of careful study and practical application'ofthe ideas gathered by frequent visits to ■ Jj the fashion centres, and by personal 0' contact with the leading tailors and iT"' U fashion authorities of the county. ; 'K' ® They are made in our own work lli 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 £ive you prices to prove them. MAKER OF jrAICII MEN'S Clothes When You Paint. If you the very best re expense you SHE R WIN-WILLIA M S' Covers Most, Look* IV-st, Wears Longest M P" Sold by REDICE & GROHMAN, 109 N. Main St., Butler, Pa. - THE BUTLER CITIZEN. Women's Fine Shoes, Lace or button at 85c, si,si.2s 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 you must have to be well dressed; shoes 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; Box toe at 50, $2 and $2.50; in fine satins for dress at SI.OO, $1.25 and $ 1.50. Constipation, Headache, Biliousness, Heartburn, Indigestion, Dizziness, Indicate that your liver is out of order. The best medicine to rouse the liver and cure all these ills, is found in Hood's 25 cents. Sold by all medicine dealers. Tlii* I* Your Opportunity. On receipt of ten cents, cash or stamps, a generous sample will be mailed of the most popular Catarrh and Hay Fever < ure (Ely's Cream Balm; sufficient to demon strate the great merits of the remedy. ELY BROTHERS, sti Warren St, J>ew lork City. Rev John Reid, Jr., of Great Falls, Mont., recommended Ely's Cream Balm to me. I can emphasize his statement, "It is a posi tive cure for catarrh if usad as directed. Rev. Francis W. Poole, Pastor Central Pres. Church, Helena, Mont. Ely's Cream Balm is the acknowledged cnre for catarrh antl contains no mercury nor any injurious drufi. Price, 50 cents. RAILROAD TIME TABLES. BUFFALO, ROCHESTER & PITTSBURG RY. The new trunk line between Pittsburg. Butler, Bradford, Rochester and Buflnlo. On and after Jan. 1, 1800, passenger trains will leave Butler, P. & 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. 5:22 p.m. Accommodation, week days only. Craigsville, Dayton. Pnnxsn tawney, Dußio9, Falls Creek. Cnrwensville. 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 Pnnxsutawney at 1:00 p.m. arriving at Butler at 5.45 p.m , stopping at all intermediate stations 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 furthei information call 011 or address, W. R. TURNER, 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. Bntler time. Trains arrive :No. 1, 9:50 A. M; No. 11, 2:55 P. M. Butler time. No. 14 runs 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 go 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. TURNER, Ticket Agent. PITTSBURG & WESTERN *■ Railway. Schedule of Pas finger Trains in effect Nov. 19* 1899. BUTLER TIME. I Depart. Arrive Allegheny Accommodation *» 25 A.M 9 07 A m Allegheny E\pre« 805 44 930 44 New < afcile Accommodation 8 0."» 44 9 <»7 " Akron Mail 8 (ft A.M 7 03 pm Allegheny HxpieM '•> 44 12 18 Allegheny Expieu 3 r.M 4 1 » |»m Chi« ago K\pi 3 40 j in 12 18 am Allegheny Mail 5 T-0 " 74- pm Allegheny and New Caatle Accom 5&) " 703 4 " Chicagc Limit' I • r » 44 907 A.M Kane and Btadford Mail 9:56 A.M 2 50 p.M Clariuii Accommodation 4 r >"» r.M 940 A .VI Cleveland and Chicago Exprosa... -5 am SIN DAY TRAINS. Allegheny Kxprens.. 8 05 A.M 9 3oa.M Al!« r licny Accoinni'Mlatiou 5 50 r.M 5 03 r.M Nev* Ac<;ommo«lation 7 03 pin Trail, arriving at 5.03 p.m. leavt n |{. A 0. depot Pittsburg at 3.25 p.m and P. A \*., Allegheny at 3.35 p. m. On Satuidays a train, known the theatre train, will leave BulW at 5.50 p. m., arriving at Allegheny at T.J'r, returning leave Allegheny at 11.30 p. in. Pullman bleeping cara on Chicago Express between Pittsburg and < hitago. For through ticketrt to all (M>iuta in the wfit, north west or southwest and iuformatiou regarding routes, time of trains, etc. apply to W. K. TURNER, Ticket Agent, R. D. REYNOLDS, Sup't, N. D., Butler, Pa. BUtler, Pa. C. W. BASSETT, G. P. A.. Allegheny, Pa II O DLNKLE, Sup't. W. AL. Div., Allegheny Pa. PENNSYLVANIA WESTERN PENNSYLVANIA DIVISION. ScucnuLß IN ErritoT Nov. 20,1899, SOUTH. , WEEK DAYS , A. M A.M. A. M P. M. P. M. BUTLER Leave C 25 8 05 10 60 2 3ft 5 Of# Saxoiihurg Arrive 54 H 30 11 15 '.I Oo 5 28 Butler Junction.. 44 j7 27 BWII4O :{ 2 r » 6 SJI Butler J auction... Leave' 7 31 8 63 11 52 325 5 63 Natrona Arriv.- 7 4o 9 01 12 01 3 34 C 02 Tarentum ; 7 44 907 12 OH' 3 4- fi 07 Springdale j 7 62 9 16 12 19 3 62 C'laremont f9 30,12 38 I (Hi .... Sharpsburg : K 11 93612 48 4 12 632 Allegheny 8 24 9 48 1 02 I 25 «i 43 A. M. A. M. P. M. P. M. P. M. SUNDAY TRAINS.—Leave Butler for Allegheny City and principal intermediate stations at 7:30 a.m., and 5:00 p. m. NORTH. WEEK DAYS A M. A. M. A. M. P. M. P. M Allegheny City. . ,le»*e 7 «> H sa 10 45 3 1" SID Sharpnburg... 7 12 9 07 10 57 Glareiunut .... .... 11 04 Springdale 11 18 6 37 Tarentum 7 37 9 34 11 28 3 4»i 1 40 Natrona 7 41 9 38 11 34 3 5o f, 61 Butler Junction...arrive 7 4M '♦ 4". II 43 ls> 7 00 Buth'i Junction... .leave 7 4* 9 47 12 18 I 0«. 7 Saxonliufg j 8 16,10 09 12 41 4 3.'», 7 24 BUTLEB arrive 8 40:10 32 1 10 5 05 | 7 60 A. M.JA. M. P. M.jP. M I». M SUNDAY TKAINS.—Leave Allegheny City for But ler and princiiml intermediate stations at 7:15 a m. and 9 30 p. m. FOR THE EAST. Weeks Days. Sundays A M A M P. M. A. M. P M Br ri.r.n lv 625 10 60! 235 730 600 Butler JYt ;»r 7 27111 40 3 '25 820 650 Butler J'ct lv 748 11 43 368 821 805 Freeport ar 7 61111 46 4 02 8 z r t 807 Kinkiminetas J't 44 76511 60 407 829 8 II Leechburg 44 807 12 tf2 4 19 841 823 PMlton (Apollo) " • MIIS 2j 4 10 868 - Saltsburg 44 861 12 19 508 «j 23 909 Blairsville 922 120 541 962 940 BWfsvllleliil " 980 188 SBO l'» 00 fltniwn *' 11 86 • 16 880 686 . Harrishurg 44 3 lOjlO 1 «*> 10 00 Pliila-h lphia " •< 88 1 - • 186 I 86 P. M. A. M.j A. M. A. M. P. M. Through traiiut for the east leave Pittsburg (Union Station ), as follow®; Atlantic Express, daily 2:50 A.M Pennsylvauia Limited 41 7:16 44 Day Express, 44 7:30 44 Main Lino Express, 41 8:00 u Harrisl'iirg Mail, " 12 46 r.M I'llilaiclphia Express, ' ... 4:50 44 Mail and Express daily. For New York only. Through buffet *l»*ei>*r; no coaches 7:00 44 Eastern Express, '* .7:10 44 Fart Line, 4 8 :«) 14 PittsburK Limited, daily, with through coai lies to New Y«»rk, and nleeping cars b» New York, Baltimore and Washington only. No extra lare on this train.—— 10:00 44 Philad'a Mail, Sun- on.y 8:40 A.M Fw Atlantic City (via Delaware River Bridge, all ruil route), 8:«S) A.M, and H;3O P.M, daily. Fm detailed information, address Thus. E. Watt, Pass. Ant. Western District, Corner Fifth Avenue and Smith* field Btreet, Pittsburg, Pa. J B. HUTCHISON, J. R. WOOD. 'General Manager. Geo' l "%ssr. Auetir Buff Plymouth Rock Eggs From Prize Winning Stock. Stock as Good as the Best. J. W. BARCROFT, »YORK CO- DELROY PA. BUTLER, PA., THURSDAY, MAY 24, 1900 • *4? • sHI • f.i • T; AV* • - '^l 8 -pOE STORY A „ | FE AM ()) OLIVE *£ FJG FELR SCHEEEFTEK. SP? 1 mm MM I A TALE OF LIFE IN THE V : ★ sl BOER REPUBLIC. V* X-''. • »; *ie ; ♦uf • %riXrt A* * ?A* ! * 7k** *»> * #Yr * ?>* ! ? !A* * cn.vPTEn xvi. GREGORY ROSE FINDS IIIS AFFINITY The new man, Gregory Rose, sat at the door of his dwelling, his arms fold ed, his legs crossed and a profound melancholy seeming to rest over his soul. Ilis house was a little square daub and wattle building, far out in the "karroo," two miles from the homestead. It was covered outside with a somber coating of brown mud, two little panes being let Into the walls for windows. Behind it were the "sheep kraals" and to the right a large dam. now principally containing baked mud. Far off the little "kopje" con cealed the homestead and was not it self an object conspicuous enough to relieve the dreary monotony of the landscape. Before the door sat Gregory Itose in his shirt sleeves, on a camp stool, aud ever and anon he sighed deeply. There was that In his countenance for which even his depressing circumstances fail ed to account. Again and again he look ed at the little "kopje," at the milk pail at his side and at the brown pony, who a short way off cropped the dry bushes—and sighed. Presently he rose and went Into his house. It was one tiny room, the whitewashed walls profusely covered with prints cut from The Illustrated London News, and in which there was a noticeable preponderance of female faces and figures. A stretcher filled one end < f the hut and a rack for a gun and a little hanging looking glass diversified the gable opposite, while in the center stood a chair and table. All was scrupulously neat and clean, for Gregory kept a little duster folded iu the corner of his table drawer, just as he had seen his mother do. and every morning before he went out he said his prayers and made his bed and dusted the table and the legs of the chairs, and even the pictures on the wall and the gun rack. Ou (bis Lot afternoon he took from teneath his pillow a watch hag made by his sister Jemima and took out the watch. Only half past 4: With a sup pressed groan he dropped it hack and sat down beside the table. Half past 4! Presently he roused himself. lie would write to his sister Jemima. lie always wrote to her when he was miserable. She was his safety valve. lie forgot her when he was- happy, but he used her when he was wretched. He took out ink and paper. There was a family crest and motto on the latter, for the Koses since coming to the colony had discovered that they were of distinguished lineage. Old Rose himself, an honest English farm er. knew nothing of his noble descent, but his wife-and daughter knew—espe cially ids daughter. There were Roses In England who kept a park and dated from the conquest. So the colonial Kose farm became Rose manor in re membrance of the anrcstral domain, and the claim of the Itoses to noble blood was established in their minds at least. • Gregory took up one of the white, crested sheets, but on deeper reflec tion he determined to take a, pink one, as more suitable to tike state of his feelings. lie began: Kopje Alone, Monday Afternoon. My Prar J. lti:' " Then he looked up into the little glass opposite. It was a youthful face reflected there, with curling brown beard and hair, but in the dark blue eyes there was a look of languid long ing that touched him. lie redipped his pen and wrote: When I look tip into the little tflass that han~s opposite mo, I wonder if that changed an J sad face — Here he sat still and reflected. It sounded almost as if lie might be con ceited or unmanly to be looking at his own face in the glass. No, that would not do. So he looked for another pink sheet and began again. Kopje Alone, Monday Afternoon. Dear Sister—lt is hardly six months since I left you to come to this spot, yet could you now see me I know what you would say. I know what mother would say, "Can that be our Gref —that thins with the strange look in his eyes?'* Yes, Jemima, it is your Greg, and the change has been coming over me ever since I came here, but it is greatest since yesterday. You know what sorrows I have passed through, Jemima; how unjustly I was always treated at school, the masters keeping me back and calling me a block head, though, as they themselves allowed, I had the best memory of any boy in the school anH could repeat whole books from beginning to end. You know how cruelly father always used ine, calling me a noodle and a milk sop just because he couldn't understand my fine nature. You know how he has made a farmer of me Instead of a minister, as I ought to have been. You know it all, Jemima, and how I have borne it ail, not as a woman, who whines for every touch, but as a man should—in silence. But there are things, there i# a thing, which the soul long! to pour forth into a kindred ecr. Dear sister, have you ever known what it is to keep wanting and wanting and wanting to kiss some one's mouth, and you may not; to touch mme one's hand, and you cannot? I am in love, Jemima. The old Dutch woman from whom I hire this place has a little stepdaughter, and her name be gins with E. She is Kriglinh. I do not know how her father came to marry a Boer woman. It makes me feel to strange to put down that letter that I can hardly go on writing—E. I've loved her ever since I came here. For weeks I have not been able to cat or drink. My very tobacco, when I smoke, has no taste, and I can remain for no more than five minutes in one place and some times feci as though I were really going mad. Every evening I go there to fetch my milk. Yesterday she gave me some coffee. The spoon fell ou the ground. She picked it up. When ■he gave it me, her finger touched mine. Je mima, I do not know if I fancied it—l shivered hot, and she shivered too! I thought: "It is all right. She will l>e mine. She loves me!" Just then, Jemima, in came a fellow, a great, coarse fellow, a German—a ridiculous fellow, with curls right down to his shoulders. It makes one sick to look at him. lie's only a servant of the Boor woman's and a low, vulgar, uneducated thing that's never been to boarding school in his life, lie had been to the next farm seeking sheep. When he cainc in, she said: "Good even ing, Waldo. Have some coffee," and she kissed ; him. All last night 1 heard nothing else but "Have I some coffee; have some coffee." If I went to sleep for a moment, I dreamed that her fing« r was pressing mine, but when I woke with a start 1 heard her say: "Good evening, Waldo. Have some coffee." Is this madness? I have not eaten a mouthful today. This even ing 1 go and propose to her. If she refuses me, I shall go and kill myself tomorrow. There is a dam of water close by. The sheep have drunk most of it up, but there is still enough, if 1 tie a ■tone to my neck. It is a choice between death and madness. I can endure no more. If this should be the lat*t letter you ever get from me, think of mo ten derly a.v! f»r • rne. Without her life would l»e a howling VtUwciness, a l'>ng tribulation. She is my affinity; the one love of my life, of my youth, of my manhood; my sunshine, my God given blossom. "They never loved who dreamed that they loved once And who wiith, 'I loved once.' Not angels, who-'.- deep eyes look down through realms of light t M TOOT bro 1 r, «>n what is, in probability, the la *t and distrac ted night of his life, Garooar NAZIANZEN ROSF.. i\ 8 Pel m hi r to t ike cart < f mj r• I ftoda. 1 left them In the wash hand stand Ins er. Don't let the children get hold <-i them. j\ v. s. I shall take this letter srith ma t«» the farm. If I turn down one corner, you may know I have been accepted; if not, you may know it is all UD with your heart bruken brother. C. X. It. Gregory having finished his letter read it over with much approval, put it in an envelope, addressed it and sat contemplating the ink pot, somewhat relieved In mind. The evening turned out chilly and very windy after the day's heat. From afar off, as Gregory neared the home stead ou the brown pony, he could distinguish a little figure in a little red cloak at the door of the cow kraal. Em leaned over the poles that barred the gate and watched the frothing tnilk run through the black fingers of the herdsman, while tbe unwilling cows stood with tethered heads by the milking poles. She had thrown the red cloak over her own head and held it under her chin with a little hand to keep from her ears the wind that play fully shook it aud tossed the little fringe of yellow hair Into lier eyes. "Is it not too cold for you to be standing here?" said Gregory, coming softly close to lier. "Oh, no; it is so nice. 1 always come to watch the milking. That red cow with the short horns is bringing up the calf of the white cow that died. She loves it so, just as if it were her owu. It is so nice to see her lick its little ears. Just look!" "The clouds are black. I think it is going to rain tonight," said Gregory. "Yes," answered Em, looking up as well as she could for the little yellow fringe. "But I'm sure you must be cold," said Gregory, ami he put his hand under the cloak and found there a small fist doubled up, soft and very warm. He held it fast iu his hand. "Oh, Em. I love you better than all the world besides! Tell me, do you love me a little?" "Yes, I do," said Em, hesitating and trying softly to free her hand. "Better than everything; better than all the world, darling?" he asked, bend ing down so low that the yellow hair was blown into his eyes. "I don't know," said Em gravely. "I do love you very much, but I love my cousin who is at school and JValdo very much. You see, I have known tiiem so long." "On, Em, do aot talk to me so cold ly!" Gregory cried, seizing the little arm that rested ou the gate aud press ing it till she was half afraid. The herdsman had moved away to the oth er end of the "kraal" now, aud the cows, busy with their calves, took no notice of the little human farce. "Em, if you talk so to me I will go mad. You must love me—love me better than all. You must give yourself to me. I have loved you since that first moment when I saw you walking by the stone wall with the jug iu your hands. You were made for me, created for me. 1 will love you till I die. Oh, Em, do not be so cold, so cruel, to me!" He held her arm so tiglltly that her fingers relaxed their hold, aud the cloak fluttered down on to the ground, aud the wind played more roughly than ever with the little yellow head. "I do love you very much," she said, "but 1 do not know if I waut to marry you. I love you better than Waldo, but I can't tell If I love you better than Lyndail. If you would let me wait for a week, 1 think perhaps I could tell you." Gregory picked up the cloak and wrapped it round her. "If you could but love me as I love you!" he said. "But no woman can love as a man can. I will wait till next Saturday. I will not once come near you till then. Goodby. Oh, Em," he said, turning again and twining his arms about her and kissing her sur prised little mouth, "if you are not my wife I cannot live! I have never loved another woman, and I never shall— never, never!" "You make me afraid," said Em. "Come, let us go, and I will fill your pail." "1 want no milk. Goodby. You will not see me again till Saturday." Late that night, when every one else had gone to bed, the yellow haired lit tle woman stood alone in the kitchen. She had come to fill the kettle for the next morning's coffee and now stood before the fire. The warm reflection lighted the grave old womanish little face that was so unusually thoughtful this evening. "Better than all the world; better than everything! He loves me better than everything!" She said the words aloud, as If they were more easy to believe If she sjioke them so. She had given out so much love in her little life and had got none of It back with Interest. Now one said, "I love you better than all the world!" One loved her better than she loved him. How suddenly rich she was! She kept clasp lug and unclasping her hands. So a beggar feels who falls asleep on the pavement wet and hungry and who wakes in a palace hall with servants and lights and a feast before him. Of course the beggar's Is only a dream, and he wakes from It, and this was real. Gregory had said to her, "I will love you as long as I live." She said the words over and over to herself like a song. "I will send for him tomorrow, and I will tell him how I love him back," she said. But Em needed not to send for him. Gregory discovered on reaching home that Jemima's letter was still in his pocket, and therefore, much as he disliked the appearance of vacillation and weakness, he was obliged to be at the farmhouse before sunrise to post it. "If 1 see her," Gregory said, "I shall only bow to her. She shall see that I am a man, one who keeps his word." As to Jemima's letter, he had turned down one corner of the page and then turned It back, leaving a deep crease. That would show that be was neither accepted nor rejected, but that matters were In an intermediate condition. It was a more poetical way than putting It in plain words. Gregory was barely in time with his letter, for Waldo was starting when he reached the homestead, and Em was on the doorstep to see him off. When he had given the letter and Wal do had gone, Gregory bowed stiffly and prepared to remount his own pony, but somewhat slowly. It was still early. None of the servants was about. Km came up close to him and put her little hand softly on his arm as he stood by his horse. "I do love you best of all," she said. She was not frightened now however much he kissed her. "I wish I was beautiful and nice," she added, looking up into his I'.VCS as lie held her against his breast. "My darling, to me you are more beautiful than a!l tire women in the world, dearer to me than everything it holds." If you were in . I would go after you to find you there. If you were dead, though my body moved, my soul would be under the ground with you. All life as I pass It with you in my arms will be perfect to inc. It will pass—pass like a ray of sun shine." Em thought how beautiful and grand his face was as she looked up into it. She raised her hand gently and put it on his forehead. "You arc so silent, so cold, my Em!" he cried. "Have you nothing to say to me?" A little shade of wonder filled her eyes. "I will do everything you tell me," she said. What else could she say? Her Idea of love was only service. "Then, my own precious one, prom ise never to kiss that fellow again. 1 cannot bear that you should love any one but me. You must not. I will not have it! If every relative I had in the world were to die tomorrow, I would be quite happy if I still only had you. My darling, my love, why are you so cold? Promise me not to love him any more. If you asked me to do any thing for you, I would do it, though It cost my life!" Em put her hand very' gravely round his neck. "I will never kiss him," she said, "and I will try not to love any one else. Isut I do not know if I will be able." "oh, my darling, I think of you all night, all day. I think of nothing else, love, nothing else," he said, folding his arms about her. Em was a little conscience stricken. Even that morning she had found time to remember that in six months her cousin would come back from school, and she had thought to remind Waldo of the lozenges for his cough, even when she saw Gregory coming. "I do not know how it is." she said humbly, nestling to him. "but I caunot love you so much as you lave me. Per haps it Is because I am only a woman, but I do love you as much as I can." Now the Kaffir maids were coming from the huts. lie kissed her again, eyes and mouth and hands, and left her. Taut' Sannie was well satisfied when told of the betrothment. She herself contemplated marriage within the year with one or other of her numerous "vrljers," and she suggested that the weddings might take place together. Em set to work busily to prepare her own household linen and wedding gar ments. Gregory was with her dally, almost hourly, and the six months which elapsed before Lyndall's return passed, as he felicitously phrased it, "like a summer night, when you are dreaming of some one you love." Late one evening Gregory sat by his little love, turning the handle of her machine as she drew her work through it, and they talked of the changes they, would make when the Boer woman was gone and the farm belonged to them alone. There should be a new room here and a kraal there. So they, chatted on. Suddenly Gregory dropped the handle and impressed a fervent kiss on the fat hand that guided the linen. "You are so beautiful, Em," said the lover. "It comes over me in a flood suddenly how I love you." Em smiled. "Tant' Sannie says when I ain her age no one will look at me, and It is true. My hands are as short and broad as a duck's foot, and my forehead is so low, and I haven't any nose. 1 can't be pretty." She laughed softly. It was so nice to think be should be so blind. "When my cousin comes tomorrow, you will 6ee a beautiful woman, Greg ory," she added presently. "She Is like a little queen; her shoulders are so up right, and her head looks as though it ought to have a little crown upon it. You must come to see her tomorrow as soon as she comes. lam sure you will love her.." "Of course I shall come to see her, since she is your cousin, but do you think I could ever think any woman as lovely as I think you?" He fixed his seething eyes upon her. "You could not help seeing that she is prettier," said Em, slipping her right hand into his, "but you will never be able to like any one so much as you like me." Afterward, when she wished her lov er good niglit, she stood upon the door step to call a greeting after him, and she waited, as she always did, till the brown pony's hoofs became inaudible behind the "kopje." Then she passed through the room where Tant' Sannie lay snoring, and through the little room that was drap ed in white, waiting for her cousin's return, on to her own room. She went to the chest of drawers to put away the work she had finished and sat down on the floor before the_ lowest drawer. In it were the things she was preparing for her marriage.. Piles of white linen and some aprons and quilts, and in the little box in the corner a spray of orange blossom which she had brought from a smouse. There, too, was a ring Gregory had given her and a veil his sister had sent, and "there was a little roll of fine, embroidered work which Trana had given her. It was too fine and good even for Gregory's wife—Just right for something very small and soft. She would keep It. And she touched it gently with her forefinger, smiling, and then she blushed and hid it far behind the other things. She knew so well all that was in that drawer, and yet she turned them all over as though she saw them for the first time audi packed thian all out and packed tbcin' all In without one fold or crlmple and then sat down and looked at them. Tomorrow evening when Lyudall came she wfould bring her here and show her all. Lyndall would so like to see it—the little wreath and the ring and the white veil! It would be so nice. Then Em. fell to seeing pictures. Lyn dall should live with them till shelher self got married some day. Everyday when Gregory cameihomc, tired (KIUI his work, he woul/rl look about and say: "Where is/uiy wife? Has 110 one seen my wife? /Wife, some coffee!" and she would give him some. Em's little face.grew yery grave at last, and she knelt (up anil extended her hands over the drawer of linen. "Oh, God!" she said, "I am so glad! I do notiknow whfit I have done that I should£be so glad. Thank you!" CHAPTER XVII. v I.TCNDALL. She was more'like a princess, yes, far more like a princess, tiiau the lady who still hung on the wall in Tant* Sannie's bedroom. So Em thought. She leaned back In the little armcliair; she wore a gray dressing gown, /and her long hair was combed out and huing to the ground. Em, sitting' be fore her, looked up with mingled "ire spert and admiration. Lo'ndall was tired after her long Journey and bad come to her room ear - ' Tf«»r ATpmmn over tlw fnnilrtj"•* jeets. Strauge to go away for four years and come back and find that the candle standing on the dressing table still cast the shadow of an old crone's head in the corner beyond the clothes horse. Strange that even a shadow should lest longer than man. She looked about among the old familiar objects. All was there, but the old self was gone. "What are you noticing?" asked Em. "Nothing and everything. I thought the windows were higher. If 1 were yon. when 1 get this place I should raise the walls. There is not room to breathe here; one suffocates." "Gregory is going to make many al terations." said Em. drawing nearer to the gray dressing gown respect fully. "IJo you like him, Lyndail? Is he not handsome?" "He must have been a fine baby," said Lyndail. lookiug at the white dimity curtain that hung above the window. Em was puzzled. "There are some men," said Lyndail, "whom you never can believe were babies at all, and others you never see without thinking how very nice they must have looked when they wore socks and pink sashes.'' Em remained silent. Then she said, with a little dignity: "When you know him, you will love him as I do. When 1 compare other people with him, they seem so weak and little. Our hearts are so cold; our loves are mixed up with so many other things. But he— no one Is worthy of his love. I am not. It is so great and pure." "You need not make yourself unhap py on that point—your poor return for his love, my dear," said Lyndail. "A man's love is a fire of olive wood. It leaps higher every moment; it roars, it blazes. It shoots out red flames; It threatens to wrap you round and de vour you—you who stand by like an icicle in the glow of its fierce warmth. You are self reproached at your own chilliness and want of reciprocity. The next day, when you go to warm your hands a little, you find a few ashes. 'Tis a long love and cool against a short love and hot. Men, at all events, have nothing to complain of." "You speak so because you do not know men," said Em, instantly as suming the Wlgulty of superior knowl edge so universally affected by affianc ed and married women In discussing man's nature with their uncontracted sisters. "You will know them, too, some day, and then you will think dif ferently," said Em, with the conde scending magnanimity which superior knowledge can always afford to show to Ignorance. Lyndall's little lip quivered in a man ner Indicative of intense amusement. She twirled a massive ring upon her forefinger—a ring more suitable for the hand of a man aud noticeable in design—a diamond cross let into gold, with the Initials "R. It." below It "Ah, Lyndail," Em said, "perhaps you are engaged yourself—that is why you smile! Yes, I am sure you are. Look at this ring!" Lyndail drew the hand quickly from her. "I am not In so great a hurry to put my neck beneath any man's foot, and I do not so greatly admire the crying of babies," she said as she closod her eyes half wearily and leaned back in the chair. "There are other women glad of such work." Em felt rebuked and ashamed. How could she take Lyndall and show her the white linen and the wreath and the embroidery? She was quiet for a little while and then began to talk about Trana and the old farm serv ants till she saw her companion was weary; then she rose and left her for the night. But after Em was gone Lyndall sat ou, watching the old crone's face In the corner, and with a weary look, as though the whole world's weight rested on these frail young shoulders. The nest morning Waldo, starting oft before breakfast with a bag of mealies slung over his shoulder to feed the os triches, heard a light step behind him. "Wait for me. I am coming with you," said Lyndall, adding as she came up to him: "If I had not gone to look for you yesterday, you would not have come to greet me till now. Do you not like me any longer, Waldo?" "Yes; but—you are changed." It was the old, clumsy, hesitating mode of speech. "You liked the pinafores better?" she said quickly. She wore a dress of a simple cotton fabric, but very fashion ably made, and on her bead was a broad white hat. To Waldo she seem ed superbly attired. She saw it. "My dress has changed a little," she said, "and I also, but not to you. Ilang the bag over your other shoulder that I may sec your face. You say so little that if one does not look at you you are an uucomprebended cipher. Waldo changed the bag, and they walked on side by side. "You have Improved," she said. "Do you know that I have sometimes wished to see you while I was away; not often, but still some times?" They were at the gate of the first camp now. Waldo threw over the bug of mealies, and they walked on over the dewy ground. "Have you learned much?" he asked her simply, remembering how she had once said, "When I come back again, I shall know everything that a human laying can." She laughed. "Are you thinking of my old boast? Yes; I have learned something, though hardly what I expected and not quite so much. In the first place, I have learned that one of my ancestors must have been a very great fool, for they say uotlilng comes out In a man but one of his forefathers possessed it be fore him. In the second place, I have discovered that of all cursed places un der the sun, where the hungriest soul can hardly pick up a few grains of knowledge, a girls' boarding school Is the worst. They are called finishing schools, and the name tells accurately what they are. They finish everything but imbecility and weakness, and that they cultivate. They are nicely adapt ed machines for experimenting on the question. 'lnto how little space can a human soul IM* crushed?* I have seen some souls so compressed that they would have fitted Into a small thimble and found room to move there—wide room. A woman who has been for ninny years at one of those places car ries the mark of rhe beast on her till she dies, though she may expand a lit tle afterward when she breathes in the free world." "Were you miserable?" he asked, looking ut her with e to be shut up with cackling old women who are without knowledge of life, without love of the beautiful, without strength, to have your soul cultured by them? It Is suffocation only to breathe the air they breathe, but I made them give me room. 1 told them 1 should leave, and they knew I came there on my own ac count. So they gave me a bedroom without the companionship of one of those things that wore hhving their brains slowly diluted and squeezed out of them. I did not learn music, be cause 1 had uo talent, and when the drove made cushions and hideous flow ers that the roses laugh at and a foot stool in six weeks that a machine would have made better in five min utes I went to my room. With the money saved from such work I bought books and newspapers, and at night 1 sat up. 1 read and epitomized what I read, and I found time to write some plays and find out how hard it is to make your thoughts look anything but imbecile fools when you paint them with ink on paper. In the holidays I learned a great deal more. 1 made ac quaintances, saw a few places and many people aud some different ways of living, which Is more than any books can show one. On the whole, I am not satisfied with my four years. 1 have not learned what I expected, but I have learned something else. What have you been doing?" "Nothing." "That Is not possible. I shall find out by and by." They still stepped on side by side over the dewy bushes. Then suddenly she turned on him. "Don't you wish you were a woman, Waldo?" "No," he answered readily. She laughed. "I thought not. Even you are too worldly wise for that. I never met a man who did. This is a pretty ring," she said, holdlug out her little hand that the morning sun might make the diamonds sparkle. "Worth £3O at least. I will give It to the first man who tells me he would like to be a wo man. There might be one on Robbin island [lunatics at the Cape are sent to Robbln island] who would win it perhaps, but I doubt It even there. It Is delightful to be a woman, but every man thanks the Lord devoutly that he isn't one." She drew her hat to one side to keep the sun out of her eyes as she walked. Waldo looked at her so Intently that he stumbled over the bushes. Yes, this was his little Lyndall who had worn the check pinafores. He saw It now, and he walked closer beside her. They reached the next camp. "Let us wait at this camp and watch the birds," she said as an ostrich hen came bounding toward them with vel vety wings outstretched, while far away over the bushes the head of the cock was visible as he sat brooding on the eggs. Lyndall folded her arms on tho gate bar, and Waldo threw his empty bag on the wall and leaned beside her. "I like these birds," she said: "they share each other's work and are com panions. Do you take an Interest In the position of women, Waldo?" "No." "I thought not. No one does unless they are in need of a subject upon which to show their wit. And as for you, from of old you can see nothing that Is not separated from you by a few millions of miles and strewed over with mystery. If women were the In habitants of Jupiter, of whom you had happened to hear something, you would pore over us and our condition nlglit and day, but because we are be fore your eyes you never look at us. You care nothing that this Is ragged and ugly," she said, putting her little finger on his sleeve, "but you strive mightily to make an Imaginary leaf on an old stick beautiful. I'm sorry you dou't care for the position of wo men. I should have liked us to be friends, and it is the only thing about which 1 think much or feel much, If, Indeed, I have any feeling about any thing," she added flippantly, readjust ing her dainty little arms. "When I was a baby, I fancy my parents left me out In the frost one night, and I got nip ped Internally. It feels so." "I have only a few old thoughts," he said, "and I think them over and over again, always beginning where I left off. I never get any further. lam weary of them." "Like an old hen that sits on its eggs month after month and they never come out?" she said quickly. "I am so pressed in upon by new things that, lest they should trip one another up. I have to keep forcing them back. My head swings sometimes. But this one thought stands, never goes—if I might but be one of those born In the future; then perhaps to be born a woman will not be to be born branded." Waldo looked at her. It was hard to say whether she were In earnest or mocking. "I know It Is foolish. Wisdom never kicks at the Iron walls It can't bring down," she said. "But we are cursed, Waldo, born cursed from the time our mothers -bring us Into the world till the shrouds are put on us. Do not look at me as I were talking non sense. Everything has two sides—the outside that Is ridiculous, and the in side that is solemn." "I am not laughing," said the boy sedately enough. "'But what curses you ?" He thought she would not reply to him, she waited so long. "It Is not what is done to us, but what is made of us," she said at last, "that wrongs us. No man can be real ly Injured but by what modifies him self. We all enter the world little plastic beings, with so much natural force perhaps, but for the rest—blank, and the world tells us what we are to be and shapes us by the ends it sets be fore us. To you It says-work, and to us It says —seem! To you It says. As you approximate to man's higliest Ideal of God, as your arm Is strong and your knowledge great, and the power to labor Is with you, so you shall gain all that human heart desires. To us It says: Strength shall not help you, nor knowledge, nor labor. You shall gain what men gain, but by other means. And so the world makes men aud wo men. "Look at this little cliln of mine, Waldo, with the dimple In It. It Is but a small part of my person, but though I had a knowledge of all things under the sun and tho wisdom to use It aud the deep, loving heart of an angel, it would not stand me through life like this little chin. I can win money with It, I can win love; 1 can win power with It, I can win fame. What would knowledge help me? The less a wom an has In her head the lighter she Is for climbing. I once heard an old man say that he never saw intellect help a woman so much ns a pretty ankle, and It was the truth. They begin to shape us to our cursed end," she said, with her lips drawn In to look as though they smiled, "when we are tiny things in shoes and socks. We sit with our little feet drawn up under us In the window and look out at the boys In their happy play. We want to go. Then a loving hand is laid on us. 'Llttlo one, you cannot go,* they say, •your little face will burn and your nice white dress be spoiled.' We feel It must lie for our good. It Is so loving ly said, but we cannot understand, and wo kneel still with ouc little cheek wistfully pressed against the pane. Afterward we go and thread blue N0.21 beads aud make a string for our neclt," aud we go ami stand before the glass. We see the complexion we were m.t to spoil and the white frock, and we lo.»!c Into our owu great eyes. Then tho curse begins to act on us. It flnir-iies Its work when we are grown wou.en, who no more look out wistfully lit a more healthy life —we are contented. We fit our sphere as a Chinese wom an's foot tits her shoe, exactly, as though (Sod had made I>oth —and yet he knows nothing of either. In some of us the shaping to our end has been quite completed. The parts we are not to usi- have l>een quite atrophied and have even dropped off. but in others, aud we are not less to be pitied, they have been weakened and left. We wear the bandages, but our limbs have not grown to them; we know that we are compressed, and chafe against them. "But what docs It help? A little bit terness, a little longing when we are young, a little futile searching for work, a little passionate striving for room for the exercise of our powers, aud then we go with the drove. A wo man must march with her regiment. In the end she mu * s trodden down or go with it, aud IT" she Is wise she goes. "I see In your great eyes what you are thinking," she said, glancing at him. "I always know what the per son I am talking to Is thinking of. How Is this woman who makes such a fuss worse off than I? I will show you by a very little example. We stand here at this gate this morning, both poor, both youug, both friendless. There Is not much to choose between us. Let us turn away just as we are, to make our way In life. This evening you will come to a farmer's house. The farmer, albeit you come alone and on foot, will give you a pipe of tobacco and a cup of coffee and a bed. If he has no dam to build and no child to teach, tomorrow you can go on your way with a friendly greeting of the hand. I. if 1 come to the same place tonight, will have the strange ques tions asked me, strange glances cast on me. The Boer wife will shake her head and give me food to eat with the Kaffirs and a right to sleep with the dogs. That would be the first step In our progress—a very little one, but ev ery step to the end would repeat It We were equals once when we lay, nt wborn babes, on our nurses' knees. We will be equals again when they tie up our Jaws for the last sleep." Waldo looked in wonder at the little, quivering face. It was a glimpse Into a world of passion and feeling wholly new to him. "Mark you," she said, "we have al ways this advantage over you—we can at any time step into ease and com petence, where you must labor pa tiently for It. A little weeping, a little wheedling, a little self degradation, a little careful use of our advantages, and then some man will say, 'Come, be my wife!' With good looks and youth, marriage is easy to attain. There are men enough, but a woman who has sold herself, even for a ring and new name, need hold her skirts aside for no creature in the street. They both earn their bread In one way. Marriage for love Is the beautlfulest external sym bol of the union of souls; marriage without It Is the uucleanliest traffic that defiles the world." She ran her little finger savagely along the top most bar, shaking off the dozen little dewdrops that still hung there. "And they tell us we have men's chivalrous attention!" she cried. "When we ask to be doctors, lawyers, lawmakers, anything but ill paid drudges, they say: No, but you have men's chivalrous at tention. Now think of that and be sat isfied! What would you do without It?" The bitter little silvery laugh, so sel dom heard, rang out across the bushes. She bit her little teeth together. "I was coming up In Cobb & Co.'s the other day. At a little wayside hotel we had to change the large coach for a small one. We were ten passengers eight men aud two women. As I sat In the house the gentlemen came and whispered to me: There Is not room for all in the new coach. Take your seat quickly.' We hurried out, and they gave me the best seat, and cover ed me with rugs, because It was driz zling. Then the last passenger came running up to the coach—an old wom an with a wonderful bonnet and a black shawl pinned with a yellow pin. " 'There Is no room,' they said. 'You must wait till next week's coach takes you up,' but she climbed on to the step, and held on at the window with both hands. " 'My son-in-law Is 111, and I must go and see hint,' she said. " 'My good woman,' said one, 'I am really exceedingly sorry that your son-in-law is 111, but there Is absolutely no room for you here.' - 'You had better get down,' said an other, 'or the wheel will catch you.' "I got up to give her my place. " 'Oh, no, no!' they cried. 'We will not allow that.' " 'I will rather kneel,' said one, and ho crouched down at my feet, so tho womau came In. "There were nine of us In that coach, and ouly one showed chivalrous atten tion, and that was a Woman to a woman. "I shall be old and ugly, too, one day, and I shall look for men's chivalrous help, but I shall not find It. "The bees are very attentive to the flowers till their honey Is done, and then they fly over them. I don't know If the flowers feel grateful to the bees. They are great fools If they do." "But some women," said Waldo, speaking as though the words forced themselves from him at that moment, "some women have power." | [TO ■■ COKTINUaU.] A Dnatsllnnr Beautlßer. "She looks almost handsome with the light behind her." "Yes. the light of her father's shining ducats." —Cleveland Plain Dealer. The Hen of Other Day*. The men we knew In other day* Are changed as changed can be (Except the tew who now are ranged 1 Beneath the graveyard tree). But tome will aay they have not changed In more respect* than we. «, The men ot other daya M M Of what they were to «. , And what they really did now seem! - To allow the dreamt untrue, i But then the dreami that turn out right Are alwaya very (ew. The cynic of the earlier day Who ran to wickedneae Ploda In a quiet married way And valui'i ainartneaa lea* Than In the time before ho tied Up to a woman'a dreaa. The chap who ve»y much detplaed Prudence in matrimony Live* in a houac he doean't rent; Ilia wife luppliet the money. But to hla taate In winea and thing* Ilia frienda give tcatimony. The men who uaed to haunt the club You now can find at home; The baahful are outrageoua fllrta Wherever they may roam, And thoae who never cared for clothes Now dandiel have become. I MORAL. The moral of thla tlmple tale I la aimple aa could be: The only way to run the world la by itrlct contrary; Let thoae who hate it take to drink And tlioee who don't to tea. —Ntw lork Sun.