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 — <jfe 1 QQ
Lace, Buckle or Congicss, heavy soles and good uppers at
Men's Fine Calf Dress Shoes— ()()
Round toe, tipped at..
Ladies' Fine Dongola Three Point Slippers 3t)C
We invite you to call and see our stock of SOROSIS SHOES
and Oxfords,the latest styles for summer wear. They are very hand
some You will like them.
All sizes—2.J to 8.
All widths—AAA to E.
JOHN BICKEL,
128 SOUTH MAIN STREET, - - BUTLER, PA
Spring STYLES g, I fluf f
Men don't buy clothing for the pur-'WC _■*> 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 8 05 A.M 7 03 44
Chicago K\pre-» 3 40 r.M 5 0.1 am
Allegheny Accomnu>«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 <iuick anxiety.
"I? N'o. 1 ain never miserable and
never happy. I wish 1 were. Hut 1
should have run away from the place
ou the fourth day and hired myself to
the first llocr woman whose farm I
cauie to. to make lire under her soap
pot. If I had to live as the rest of the
drove did. Can you form an Idea,
Waldo, of what it must l>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.