VOL.* xxxvii
Grand Clearance Sale
Of Summer Footwear
At BICKEL'S.
*
We have commenced a grand clearance sale of all summer foot
wear. We have too many tan shoes and Oxfords and will not carry a
pair over. Every pair must be closed out during this sale and will
go during this sale at away down prices. So look out for some
great shoe bargains at Bickel's.
Men's $5.00 Tan Shoes at $2.50
Men's $4 00 Tan Shoes at $2.25
Men's $3.50 Oxford Shoes at $2.25
Men's $2.50 Oxford Shoes at $1.50
Ladies' Fine Russctt Shoes .at $2.00
Lidie-»' Fine p.ussett Shoes at $1.26
Misses' Fine Russett Shoes at 90c
Misses' Fine Strap Sandal Slippers at 50c
Men's Fine Vici Kid Shoes, Patent Leather Trimed at $1.25
Men's Fine Tan Coin Toe Shoes at $1.20
Men's Fine Slippers at 75c
Boy's Fine Slippers at 35c
Ladies' Fine Slippers at 40c
Boy's Fine Tan Shoes at SI.OO
Children's Fine Shoes at 50c
It will pay you to visit this great sale
and secure some of the bargains being offered.
JOHN BICKEL,
128 SOUTH MAIN STREET, - - BUTLER, PA
| jThe+Centennial +Souvenir H
50c 50c H
/ S As a pictoral record of Butler and Butler Co., con- / \
) ' tains 94 pages of the highest Style of the printers and / /
* C photo-engravers art —bird-eye views of some of Butler J f
V / county's most famous oi! towns and historical spots. 1 J
f ) Borough Government, Board of Trade, City Government, v
/ J Members of The Bar Association, etc , etc. Over 400 / C
f S of the finest kind of half tone pictures. / t
C / For Sale by all Newsdealers or by the Publishers on x (
oor » Troutman BTg, Butler, Pa.
Out of Style. Out of the World!
ff&rj.ftp n —^ ur K arrnents have a style that is
pjHPyy ' r -:" ! JT\ 'I easily distinguished from the ordin-
Q ary. They are the result of careful
study and practical application[ofthe
ideas gathered by frequent visits to
'{ the fashion centres, and by personal
contact with the leading tailors and
Hi| % fashion authorities of the county.
Wli!' 1 They are made in our own work
, i ih shop by the highest paid journey-
V I) - - men tailors in Butler, yet it is pos-
Jlo (and we do) give our patrons these first-class clothes at the
I you would pay for the other sort. We believe we have given
II reasons why our tailoring is the best and cheapest and would
lateful for the opportunity to show you our handsome spring
■ < and give you prices to prove them.
I llanrl MAKEROF
I "\ICII MEN'S Clothes,
Spring STYLES §
/y» T* M* »j» *l* T* T* »T* iir 1 I / / / \ I
* Men don't buy clothinjr for the pur[ ** j 111 w 1« f Zap- \
.i&tpose or spctidiug money. They desire Ir v-rwWMr J^
get the l>est possible results for thefT!
expended. Not cheap goo<ls"M" / J j
goods as cheap as they can beiif, till iixls ivil
Unsold for and made up properly. If GC
want the correct thing at the cor-Tfc .— |lA ''l !
price, call and examine our,W. I \ 4 ■ (I i
3,1 a ge st)clc of SPRING WEIGHTS—3, \ V k SPf 1 7
& LATEST STYLES, SHADES AND# 1 I \T C
ill f
Fits and Workmanship ("I J /
Guaranteed. rr '
G F. K6CK,
42 NorthlMain Street, Butler, Pa
A LUXURY SUCH AS THE
4-tffSulf' u v ROMANS INDULGED IN
fc-4*4- -{Jb|■ 11 - V'f* can be reveled in a modern bath
* tt"® \\ll * room, when fitted up with porce
-1 "H" ~ l a '*n tub, shower bath, tiled walls
—.ll- AM. aiu j d oors anc i exposed plumbing.
1 1 H vi>i« '*■ We will fit you up a bathroom
' as Lucullus never laved him-
Jjs* I ''*' self in, with all the modern im
- M provements and conveniences, at
' prices that cannot be competed
Geo. W!. Wl Hite-hIII,
318 South Main St., PLUMBER, Butler, Pa.
subscribe for the CITIZfcIN
THE BUTLER CITIZEN.
Hood's PSIls
Are prepared from Na
ture's mild laxatives, _ and
while gentle are reliable
and efficient. They
Rouse the Liver
Cure Sick Headache, Bil
iousness, Stomach,
and Constipation. Sold
everywhere, 25c. per box.
Prepared by C.l.Hood & Co. t LoweU,Mass.
Good Fit and Work Guaranteed
Karl Schluchter,
Practical Tailor and Cutter
125 W. Jefferson, Butler, Pa.
Busheling, Cleaning and
Repairing a Specialty.
SNYDER k THOMPSON
West Jefferson St, Butler, Pa.
LIVERY, BOARDING
AND SALE STABLE.
PLENTY OF ROOM,
GOOD CARE AND
FIRST CLASS EQUIPMENT.
BIRD SNYDER,
A. THOMPSON.
People's Phone 109,
Bell's Phone 59
Milk Cans |
f We make the strongest, iC
(heaviest and most service- JL
£able milk cans made. If
] ( 5 gal, Cans $lB per doz. X
. C Try Our Cans. X
IT I. J. KING, X
< 7532 Grant St., Pittsburg,Pa.
£>oooo<»oCX>oo<X
WE
HAVE
AN
OVERSTOCK
OF
RUBBER
COATS
WHICH
WE
WILL
SELL
BELOW
COST.
Jno. S Wick,
242 S. Main St., Butler, Pa
Opposite P. O.
NEW HOUSE NEW FURNITUBE,
&&&&
Central Hotel
&&&&
SIMEON NIXON, JR., 1 , f
J. BROWN NIXON, f MgrS "
BUTLER, PA
Opposite Court Hr.use.
Next Door to Park Theatre.
Sunday Dinners A Specialty.
Meals 25 cts. Rooms 50 cts.
Regular Rates sl.
Local and Long Distance Phones.
Hotel Waverly,
South McKean Street,
J. W HAWORTH, Prop'r.,
BUTLER, PA.
Steim Heat and Electric Light.
The most commodious office in the
city.
Stabling in Connection.
Now is The Time to Have
Your Clothing
CLEAN DYED.
If you want good and reliable
cleaning or dyeing done, there is
just one place in town where you
can get it, and that is at
The Butler Dye Works
216 Center avenue-
We do fine work in out
door Photographs. This is the
time of year to have a picture ol
your house. Give us a trial.
Agent for the Jatoentown Sliding
Blind Co.—New York.
R. FISHER <fc SON.
BUTLER, PA., THURSDAY, JUNE 21, 1000
fTKnwr ,5 „ |
■}% PB awl (U OLTVJI V•
*- SCILREHiER. v.T'
I mim f«S s |
A TALE OF LIFE IN THE rf
★ BOER REPUBLIC.
3r: it; »'• * tM" r>;»i •SV;Srrs»;*»*3<ta»J»»!
CHAPTER XXII.
t-YVTiAI-L'S STRAJTOEI*.
A fire Is burning In the unused hearth
of the cabin. The fuel blazes up and
lights the black rafters and warms the
faded red lions on the quilt and fills
the little room with a glow of warmth
and light made brighter by contrast,
for outside the night is chill and misty.
Before the open fireplace sits a stran
ger, his tall, slight figure reposing In
the broken armchair, his keen blue
eyes studying the lire from beneath
delicately penciled, drooping eyelids.
One white hand plays thoughtfully
with a heavy flaxen mustache, yet
once he starts, and for an Instant the
languid lids raise themselves. There
Is a keen. Intent look upon the face as
he listens for tomethlug. Then he
leans back In his chair, fills his glass
from the silver flask in his bag aud re
sumes his old posture.
Presently the door opens noiselessly.
>t Is Lyndall. followed by Doss. Quiet
ly as she enters he hears her and
turns.
"I thought you were not coming."
"1 waited till all !.: 1 gone to bed.
I could not come befi . e."
She removed the slur.. ! ; ' envelop
ed her. and the ktranger 11...c to offer
her his chair, but she took her t on
a low pile of sacks before the u. ..low.
"I hardly se<' why 1 should be out
lawed after this fashion." he said, re
seatiiig iiiuis* If and drawing his chair
a little nearer to hi r. "These are hard
ly the (j'.jj iei* one expects to tlud aft
er traveling a Luniired miles in answer
to uu invitatiou."
"1 said, •('on.e if /on wish.'"
"And I tti.l wihh You give me a
ctilil r«-i-e|.: i..i
"1 fi.i.M iK.t take you to llie house.
Qtleptio:.- would be asked which 1
could not answer without prevarica
tion."
"Yw r ■ • tiscicuoe Is growing to have
a eel tain virgin tenderness." he said in
a low. melodious voice.
"I have no conscience. 1 spoke oue
deliberate lie tills evening, i said the
man who had come looked rough. We
had hert not have him lu the house.
Therefore I brought him here. It was
a deliberate lie. and I hate lies. I tell
them If 1 must, but they hurt me."
"Well, you ilo not toll lies to yoursrlil
at all events. You are candid so far."
She Interrupted him.
"You got my short letter?"
"Yes; that is why 1 come. You sent
a very foolish reply. You must take It
back. Who is this fellow you talk of
marrying?"
"A young farmer."
"Lives here?"
"Yes; he has gone to town to get
things for our wedding."
"What kind of a fellow Is he?"
"A fool."
"And you would rather marry him
than me?"
"Yes, because you are not ono."
"That Is a novel reason for refus
ing to marry a man," he snid, lean
ing his elbow on the table and watch
ing her keenly.
"It Is a wise one," she said shortly.
"If I marry him, I shall shake him off
my hand when it suits me. If I re
mained with him for 12 months, he
would never have dared to kiss my
hand. As far as I wish he should come
he comes ami no further. Would yon
ask me what you might and what you
might not do"?"
Iler companion raised his mustache
with a udressing movement from his
Hp aud smiled. It was not a question
that stood in need of any answer.
"Why do you wish to enter on this
semblance of marriage?"
"Because there Is only oue point on
which 1 have a conscience. I liave told
you so."
"Then why not marry me?"
"Because If once you have me you
would hold me fast. 1 shall never be
free again." She drew a long, low
breath.
"What have you done with the rlng
-1 gave you?" lie said.
"Sometimes 1 wear it. Then I take
It off and wish to throw It Into the fire.
The next day I put it on again, and
sometimes I kiss It."
"So you do love me a little?"
"If you were not something more to
me than any other man in the world,
do you think"— She paused. "I love you
when 1 you, but when you are
away me I hate you."
"Then 1 fear I must be singularly in
visible at the present moment," he
said. "Possibly if you were to look
less fixedly Into the fire you might per
ceive me."
He moved Ids chair slightly so as to
come between her ami the firelight.
She raised her eyes to his face.
"If you do love me," he asked her,
"why will you not marry me?"
"Because If I had been married to
yon for a year I should have come to
my senses and seen that your hands
ami your voice are like the hands and
the voice of any other man. I cannot
quite see that now. Rut it Is all mad
ness. You call Into activity one part of
my nature. There Is a higher part that
you know nothing of, that you never
touch. If I married you, afterward it
would arise and assert Itself, and 1
should hate you always, as I do now
sometimes."
"I like you when you grow meta
physical and analytical," he said, lean
ing ids face upon his band. "Go a lit
tle further In your analysis. Say, "1
love you with the right ventricle of my
heart, but not the left, and with the
left auricle of my heart, but uot the
right, and, this being the case, my af
fection for you Is not of a duly elevat
ed, intellectual and spiritual nature.' I
like you when you get philosophical."
She looked quietly at him. He was
trying to turn her own weapons against
her.
"You are acting foolishly, Lyndall,"
he said. ddenly changing his manner
and speaking earnestly, "most foolish
ly. You are acting like a little child. 1
am surprised at you. It Is nil very well
to have Ideals and theories, hut you
know as well as any one can that they
must not bo carried Into the practical
world. I love you. 1 do not pretend
that It li> la any high, superhuman
sense, i do uot say that I should like
you as well If you were ugly and de
formed, or that 1 should continue to
prize you whatever your treatment of
luo might be, or to love you though you
Were a spirit without any body at all.
That is sentimentality for beardless
boys. Every one not a mere child (and
yon are not a child, except In years)
knows what love between a man and a
woman means. I love you with that
'<>ve. I should not have bellev<*' »♦
Bible that I could have brought myself
twice to ask of any woman to be my
wife, more especially one without
wealtli. without position and who" —
"Yes; go on. Do not grow sorry for
me. Say what you were going to—
'who has put herself Into my power
and who has lost the right of meeting
me on equal terms." Say what you
think. At least we two may speak
the truth to one another."
Then she added, after a pause:
"I believe you do love me. as much as
you possibly could love anything, and
I lielieve that when you ask me to
marry you you are performing the
most generous act you ever have per
formed In the course of your life or
ever will. but. at the same time. If I
had required your generosity, It would
not have been shown me. If, when 1
got your letter a mouth ago, hinting at
your willingness to marry uie. I hail at
ouee written. Imploring you to come,
you would have read the letter. Toor
little devil." you would have said aud
tore It up. The uext week you would
have saili-d for Europe and have seut
me a cheek for £l5O, which I would
have thrown In the lire, and I would
have heard uo more of you." The
stranger smiled. "But because 1 de
clined your proposal, and wrote that lu
three weeks 1 should be married to au
other, then what you call love woke
up. Your man's love Is a child's love
for butterflies. You follow till you
have the thing and break It If you
have broken oue wing and the thing
flies still, then you love It more than
ever and follow till you break both.
Then you are satisfied when It lies
still on the ground."
"You are profoundly wise in the
ways of the world. You have seen far
into life," be said.
He might as well have sneered at the
fnelight.
"I have seen enough to tell me that
you love me because you cannot bear
to be resisted and want to master me.
You liked me at first because I treated
you and all men with Indifference. You
resolved to have me because 1 seemed
unattainable. That Is all your love
means."
He felt a strong inclination to stoop
down and kiss the little lips that defied
him, but he restrained himself. He
said quietly. "And you loved me"—
"Because you are strong. You are
the first man I ever was afraid of.
And"—a dreamy look came into her
face—"because I like to experience, 1
like to try. You don't understand
that."
He smiled.
"Well, since you will not marry me,
may 1 Inquire what your Intentions
are, the plan you wrote of? You asked
me to come and hear it, and I have
come."
"I said, 'Come If you wish.' If you
agree to It. well; If not. 1 marry on
Monday."
"Well."
She was still looking beyond him at
the fire.
"I cannot marry you," she said slow
ly, "because 1 cannot be tied; but. If
you wish, you may take me away
with you and take care of me. Then
when wc do not love any more we can
say goodby. I will not go down coun
try," she added. "I will not go to Eu
rope. Y'ou must take me to the Trans
vaal. That Is out of the world. People
we meet there we need not see again
In our future lives."
"Oh, my darling," he said, bendlug
tenderly and holding his band out to
her, "why will you not give yourself
entirely to tne? One day you will de
sert rae and go to another."
She shook her head without looking
at him.
"No; life Is too long. Hut I will go
with you."
"When T'
"Tomorrow. I have told them that
before daylight I go to the next farm.
I will write from the town and tell
them the facts. I do not want them
to trouble me. I want to shake myself
free of these old surroundings; 1 want
them to lose sight of me. You can
understand that it is necessary for
me."
He seemed lost in consideration.
Then he said:
"It is better to liave you on those
conditions than not at all. If you will
have it, let It be so."
He sat looklug at her. On her face
was the weary look that rested there
so often now when she sat alone. Two
months had uot passed since they part
ed, but the time had set Its mark on
her. He looked at her carefully, from
the brown, smooth forehead to the lit
tle, crossed feet on the floor. A worn
look had grown over the little face, and
It made Its charm for him stronger,
for pain and time, which trace deep
lines and write a story on a human
face, have a strangely different effect
on one face and another. The face
that is only fair, even very fair, they
ninr and flaw, but to the face whose
beauty Is the harmony between that
which speaks from within aud the
form through which It speaks power Is
added by all that causes the outer man
to bear more deeply the impress of the
Inner. The pretty woman fades with
the roses on her cheeks and the girl
hood that lasts an hour. The beautiful
woman finds her fullness of bloom
only when a past has written Itself on
her, and her power Is then most Irre
sistible when It seems going.
From under their half closed lids the
keen eyes looked down at her. Her
shoulders were bent. For a moment
the little figure had forgotten Its queeu
ly bearing aiul drooped wearily. The
wide dark eyes watched the fire very
softly.
It certainly was not In her power to
rtslst liim nor any strength In her that
made his own at that moment grow
soft as he looked at iier.
He touched one little hand that rest
ed on her knee.
"Poor little thing I" he said. "You
are only a child."
She did not draw her hand away
from his and looked up at him.
"You are very tired?"
"Yes."
She looked Into his eyes as a little
child might whom a long day's play
had saddened.
lie lifted her gently up and sat her
on his knee.
"I'oor little thing!" he said.
She turned her face to his shoulder
and burled It against his neck. He
wound his strong arm about her and
held her close to him. When she had
snt for a long while, he drew with his
hand the face down and hHd It against
his arm. He kissed it and then put it
buck In Its old resting place.
"Don't yon u;..ii to taiK to met
"No." ' I
"liave you IWgotteu the uight in th« ,
r venue?"
lie could feel that she shook her
head.
"Do you want to be quiet now 7"
"Yes."
They sat quite still, excepting that
only sometimes he raised her fingers
softly to his mouth.
Doss, who had been asleep In the ,
corner, waking suddenly, planted him
self before them, his wiry legs moving
nervously, his yellow eyes filled with
anxiety He was not at all sure fhat
she was uot being retained In her pres
ent position against her will and was
not a little relieved when she sat up
aud held out her hat i for the shawl.
"I must go," she said.
The stranger wrapped the shawl very
cnrefully about her.
"Keep It close around your face, Lyn
dall. It Is very damp outside. Shall 1
walk with you to the house?"
"No. Lie down and rest. 1 will come
and wake you at 3 o'clock."
She lifted her face that he might kiss
it, and when he had kissed It once she
still held It that he might kiss it again.
Then he let her out. He had seated
himself at the fireplace when she ro
opened the door.
"Have you forgotten anything?"
"No."
She gave one long, lingering look at
the old ro<>tu.» When she was gone and
the door shut, the stranger filled bis
glass aud sat at the table sipping It
thoughtfully.
The night outside was misty and
damp. The faint moonlight, trying to
force Its way through the thick air,
made darkly visible the outlines of the
buildings. The stones and walls were
moist, and now and then a drop, slowly
collecting, fell from the eaves to the
ground. Doss, not liking the change
from the cabin's warmth, ran quickly
to the kitchen doorstep, but his mis
tress walked slowly past him aud took
her way up the winding footpath that
ran beside the stone wall of the camps.
When she came to the end of the last
camp, she threaded her way among the
stones aud bushes till she reached the
German's grave. Why she had cotne
there she hardly knew. She stood
looking down. Suddenly she bent aud
put one hand on the face of a wet
stone.
"1 shall never come to you again."
she said.
Then she knelt on the ground and
leaned her face upon the stones.
"Dear old man, good old man, I am
so tired!" she said, for we will come to
the dead to tell secrets we would never
have told to the living. "I am so tired!
There Is light, there is warmth!" she
walled. "Why am 1 alone, so hard, so
cold? 1 am so weary of myself! It Is
eating my soul to its core—self, self,
self! I cannot bear this life! I can
not breathe, I cannot live! Will noth
ing free me from myself?" She pressed
her cheek against the wooden post. "1
want to love! I want something great
aud pure to lift me to Itself! Dear old
man, I cannot bear it any more! 1 am
so cold, so hard, so hard! Will no one
help me?"
The water gathered slowly on her
shawl and fell on to the wet stones,
but she lay there crying bitterly, for so
the living soul will cry to the dead and
the creature to Its God, aud of all this
crying there comes nothing. The lift
ing up of the bauds brings uo salva
tion. Redemption is from within, and
neither from God nor man. It Is
wrought out by the soul Itself with suf
fering and through time.
Doss, on the kitchen doorstep, shiv
ered and wondered where his mistress
staid so long, aud once, sitting sadly
there in the damp, he had dropped
asleep and dreamed that old Otto gave
him a piece of bread and patted him
on the head, and when he woke his
teeth chattered, and he moved to an
other stone to see if It was drier. At
last he heard his mistress' step, and
they went into the house together.
She lighted n candle aud walked to the
Boer woman's bedroom. On a nail un
der the lady In pink hung the key of
the wardrobe. She took it down and
opened the great press. From a little
drawer she took £SO, all she had In the
world, relocked the door and turned to
hang up the key. Then she paused,
hesitated. The marks of tears were
still on her face, but she smiled.
"Fifty pounds for a lover! A noble
reward!" she said and opened the
wardrobe and returned the notes to
the drawer, where Em might find
them.
Once In her own room, she arranged
the few articles she Intended to take
tomorrow, burned her old letters and
then went back to the front room to
look at the time. There were two
hours yet before she must call him.
She sat down at the dressing table to
wait and leaned her elbows on It and
buried her face In her hands. The
glass reflected the little brown head
with its even parting and the tiny
hands on which it rested. "One day 1
will love something utterly, and then I
will be better," she said once. Pres
ently she looked up. The large dark
eyes from the glass looked back at her.
She looked deep Into them.
"We are all alone, you and I," she
whispered. "No one helps us; no one
understands us. Hut we will help our
selves." The eyes looked back at her.
There was a world of assurance in
their still depths. So they had looked
at her ever since she could remember,
when it was but a small child's face
above a blue pinafore. "We shall nev
er be quite alone, you and I," she said.
"We shall always be together, as we
were when we were little."
The beautiful eyes looked into the
depths of her soul.
"We are not afraid. We will help
ourselves!" she said. She stretched
out her hand and pressed it over them
on the glass. "Dear eyes! We will
never be quite alono till they part us—
till then!"
CHAPTER XXIII.
GREGORY ROSE UAH AN IDEA.
Gregory Hose was In the loft putting
It neat Outside the rain poured. A
six months' drought had broken, and
the thirsty plain was drenched with
water. What It could not swallow
ran off In mad rivulets to the great
"sloot" that now foamed like an angry
river across the flat. Even the little
furrow between the farmhouse and the
kraals was now a stream, knee deep,
which almost bore away the Kaffir
women who crossed it. It had rained
for 24 hours, and still the rain poured
on. The fowls had collected—a melan
choly crowd—ln and about the wagon
house, and the solitary gander, who
alone had survived tlie six months'
want of water, walked hither and
thither, printing his webbed footmarks
on the mud, to have them washed out
the next Instant by the pelting rain,
which at 11 o'clock still beat on the
walls and roofs with unabated ardor.
Gregory as he worked In the loft
took no notice of It beyond stuiling
a sack into the broken pane to keep It
out, and. In spite of the pelt and patter,
Em's clear voice might lie beard
through the open trapdoor from tl.e
dining room, where she sat at work,
singing the "Blue Water"
"An«l likf n»e away,
AimJ take mo away.
An-! take tne «w*y
To th« Blue Water"
that quaint childish sou ft of the pooph'
that has a world of sweetiu-ss nnd sad,
vague yearning when sung over and
over dreamily by a woman's voice as
she sits alone at her work. But Greg
ory beard neither that nor yet the loud
laughter of the Katiir nialds that every
now and again broke through from the
kitchen, where they Joked and worked.
Of late Gregory had grown strangely
Impervious to the sounds and sights
about him. Ills lease had run out, but
Em had said: "Do not renew It. I need
one to help me. Just stay on." And she
had added: "You must not remain In
your own little house. Live with me.
You can look after my ostriches better
HO."
And Gregory did not thank her.
What difference did It make to him.
paying rent or not, living there or not?
It was all one. But yet he came. Etu
wished that be would still sometimes
talk of the streugth and master right
of man. but Gregory was as one smit
ten on the cheek bone. She might do
what she pleased, he would find no
fault, had uo word to say. lie had for
gotten that It Is man's right to rule. On
that rainy morning he had lighted his
pipe at the kitchen Are and when
breakfast was over stood in the front
door watching the water rush down
the road till the pipe died out In his
mouth. Em saw she must do some
thing for him and found him a large
calico duster. He bad sometimes talked
of putting the loft neat, and today she
could find nothing else for him to do.
So she had the ladder put to the trap
door that he need not go out In the
wet, and Gregory with the broom and
duster mounted to the loft. Once at
work, he worked hard. lie dusted
down the very rafters and cleaned the
broken candle molds and beut forks
that had stuck In the thatch for 20
years. lie placed the black bottles
neatly In rows on an old box In the cor
ner and plied the skins on one another
and sorted the rubbish In all the lwxes,
and at 11 o'clock his work was almost
done.
lie seated himself on the packing
ease which hail once held Waldo's
books and proceeded to examine the
contents of another which he had not
yet looked at. It was carelessly nailed
down. He loosened one plank and be
gan to lift out various articles of fe
male attire old fashioned caps,
aprons, dresses with long pointed bod
ies such as he remembered to have
seen his mother wear when he was a
little child. He shook them out care
fully to see there were no moths and
then sat down to fold them up again
one by one. They had belonged to
Em's mother, and the box as packed at
her death had stood untouched and
forgotten these long years. She must
have been a tall woman, that mother
of Em's, for when he stood up to shake
out a dress the neck was on a level
with bis. and the skirt touched the
ground. Gregory laid a nightcap out
on his knee anil began rolling up the
strings, but presently his Angers mov
ed slower nnd slower, then his chin
rested on Ills breast, and finally the Im
ploring blue eyes were fixed on the
frill abstractedly. When Em's voice
called to him from the foot of the lad
der, he started and threw the nightcap
behind him.
She was oulv come to tell him that
his cup of soup was ready, and when
he could hear that she was gone he
picked up the nightcap again and a
great brown sun "kapje," just such a
"kapje" and such a dress as one of
those he remembered to have seen a
Sister of Mercy wear. Gregory's mind
was very full of thought lie took
down a frngment of aa old looking
glass from behind a beam and put the
"kapje" on. His beard looked some
what grotesque under It. He put up
his hand to hide It That was better.
The blue eyes looked out with mild
gentleness that became eyes looking
out from under a "kapje." Next he
took the brown dress and, looking
round furtively, slipped It over his
head. He had just got his arms In the
sleeves aud was trying to hook up the
back when an Increase In the patter of
the rain at the window made htm drag
It off hastily. When he perceived there
was no one coming, he tumbled the
things back into the box and, covering
It carefully, went down the ladder.
Em was still at her work, trying to
adjust a new needle In the machine.
Gregory drank his soup and then sat
before her, an awful and mysterious
look In his eyes.
V 1 am going to town tomorrow." he
•aid.
"I'm almost afraid you won't lie able
to go," said Em, who was intent on her
needle. "I don't think it Is going to
leave off today."
" am going," said Gregory.
Em looked up.
"But the 'sloots* are as full as rivers.
You cannot go. We can wait for the
post," she said.
"I am not going for the post" said
Gregory Impressively.
Em looked for explanation. Nono
came.
"When will you be back?"
"I am not coming back."
"Are you going to your friends?"
Gregory waited, then caught her by
the wrist
"Look here, Em," he said between
his teeth. "I can't stand It any more.
I am going to her."
Since that day when he had come
home ami found Lyndall gone he had
never talked of h<?r, but Em knew who
It was who needed to be spoken of by
no name.
She said when he had released her
hand:
"But you do not know where she Is?"
"Yes, I do. She was In Bloemfontein
when 1 heard last. I will go there, and
I will find out where she went then,
and then, and then! I will have her!"
Em turned the wheel quickly, aud
the ill adjusted needle sprang into 20
fragments.
"Gregory," she said, "she does not
want us. She told us so clearly In the
letter she wrote." A flush rose on her
face as she spoke. "It will only be
pain to. you, Gregory. Will she like to
have you near her?"'
There was an answer he might have
made, but It was his secret, and he did
not choose to share It He said only:
"I am going."
"Will you be gone long. Gregory?"
"I do not kuow. Perhaps 1 shall
never come back. Do what you please
with my thln„.<. I cannot stay here."
tie rose from his seat.
"People say forget, forget!" he cried,
pacing the rootu. "They are mad!
They nre fools! I>o they say so to men
wlio are <lylng <>( thirst forget forget?
Why Is It only to us they say so? It
Is a lie to say that time makes It easy!
It is afterward, afterward, that It eats
In at your heart! All these mouths,
he cried bitterly, "1 have lived here
quietly, day after day, as If I cared
for what I ate and what I drank anil
what I did! I care for nothing! I can
not bear It! I will not! Forget, for
get!" ejaculated Gregory. "You can
forget all the world, but yon caunot
forget yourself. When one tiling Is
more to you than yourself, how are you
to forget It?
"1 read," he said—"yes, and then 1
come to a word she used, anil It Is all
back with me again! 1 go to count luy
sheep. a till I see her face before tne.
ami 1 staud ami lot tl»e sheep ruu by.
I look nt you. nuJ In jour smile. *
something at the corner of your lips.
I see her. How cau I Curvet her w hen,
whenever I turn, she Is there and not
there? I cannot, I will not, live where
I do not see her!
"1 know what you thluk." he said,
turning upon Em. "\ou think 1 am
mad; you think I am going to see
whether she will not like me! I am
not so foolish. I should have known
at tirst she never could suffer me. Who
am 1. what am I, that she should look
at me? if any one says It Is not. It
Is a lie! 1 am uot going to speak to
her," he added, "only to see her, only
to stand sometimes In a place where
she has stood before."
£TO BE CO.VTINTEDk]
GROWING TOMATOES.
Mrld Culture on a Ijirsr Scale Vow
Canneries. Etc.
Everybody Is familiar with tomatoes
is a garden crop In a small way, but
If 1 d culture for the use of canneries
uul wholesale consumers Is a matter
lot so generally undersUsxl. Conveni
ng this The Rural New Yorker advises
'.has:
Pates of planting vary with the lati
tude as a mat tor of course. In the
funning districts alnuit New York to
jiato seeds are planted for tills pur
pose alnrnt April I In frames without
bottom heat. They are sown In drills
ibout seven Inches apart. The soil has
previously been made light and rich,
ind the seeds are covered half an Inch
leep and well packed with the pres
sure of a board on which the planter
walks while planting the next row.
The soil Is then well watered, the sash
?s put on and kept rather close until
the seedlings come up. after which
lbundant ventilation is given in clear
weather. An average of 1,000 plants,
requiring about one ounce of seed. Is
lommouly grown under each ordinary
sash, six feet' by three. The plants
should l>e kept well weeded and the
space between the rows often stirred
with n narrow hoe. Good plants can
often be raised In seed IMHIS in the
open ground without the use of sashes,
but the danger of loss by late frosts is
too great to put much reliance on this
method.
Good corn or potato land, especially
if light and well drained, will usually
produce satisfactory tomatoes In an
average season. The Held is plowed
and harrowed In the usual manner
about the middle of May and furrowed
out in checks throe feet apart each
way. Fertilization is effected by put
ting a shovelful of composted manure
or a handful of a complete chemical
fertilizer in each check and incorporat
ing it well with the soil. The plants
are set out from May 25 to the middle
of June, choosing dull weather when
possible. The plants are taken to the
fields standing In buckets of water
and dropped by t>oys in the checks.
They are flrmly set by men following
closely after.
If the plants are tall and drawn, they
are layered to some extent—that is,
they are laid nearly flat and the roots
and stem covered with earth to within
three or four inches of the top. Addi
tional roots are thrown out from the
burled stem, and the plant Is less likely
to suffer from dry weather. A better
stand of can be expected
from transplanted plants, and by pud
dling the roots In thin, rich mud Just
before planting, but at the low prices
ruling for the past few years the
plants are generally transferred direct
ly from the frames to the field with as
little handling as possible. A larger
proportion of plants will live under or
dinary conditions wh-re chemicals are
used to fertilize the checks or hills than
in the ens..' of stable manure or com
posts, as there Is less tendency to dry
out at the roots l>efore the plants be
come established, though the yield, es
pecially late in the season, is rather in
favor of animal manures.
Cultivation begins within a week
after the plants are set and is contin
ued after each rain or at Intervals of
ten days in dry weather until the
growth of the vines interferes. One or
two dressings with a hand hoe are
generally needed to take out the weeds
In the hills, and at the last working the
hills are ridged up somewhat in order
to keep the tomatoes from too close
contact with the soil. The practice of
pinching out the top of the growing
plants to Induce an early formation of
laterals Is not generally followed now,
as it has not been found to ndd greatly
to the yield. The tomatoes begin to
ripen in August, and from that time
until frost they are picked two or three
times a week and hauled directly to the
canneries or market. The contract price
for several years has been varied from
|5 to $8 per ton, according to locality.
Six dollars Is considered a fair price In
northern New Jersey and usually
yields a small margin of profit over ex
penses In the hands of an experienced
grower.
liriv Standard Hay Stacker.
The cut shows a standard hay stack
er Invented by a Colorado man which
is very simple in construction, strong
and durable and has no castings. It Is
a combination of bnse frame, swinging
derrick and stationary standard. The
standard is the most novel feature
about this machine. It serves to short
en the draft and elevate the draw rope
to the arc of a circle, the derrick l>elng
STANDARD HAY STACKER.
pivoted in the center of gravity, there
by minimizing the power required to
elevate. The draft is the same at all
points until the hay Is delivered. One
liorse docs the elevating. It is claimed
that the new Invention will do an equal
amount of work in less than one-fourth
the time required by the old style der
ricks. Its eapaclty is estimated at
from 75 to 100 tons a day.
The California russet, tile potato
commanding the highest price In the
Philadelphia market the past winter,
lias Its name from Its peculiar color of
deep russet brown. The tubers are ob
long, have few and shallow eyes, mak
ing them a favorite In the kitchen. The
report from stnte growers is of pro
ductiveness and freedom from rot, says
The Ledger.
Preliminary Instruction.
McJlgger—Has Prudentz bought hit
automobile yet?
Thingumbob—No; ho hasn't finlshei
his course of Instruction with Profess
or Philip Flopp yet.
McJlgger—Oh, he's teaching him how
to run one, eh?
Thingumbob—No, indeed. He teach
es ocrobatlcs.—l'lilladuJpliia Press.
No. 23
PRM\Q*Sg?N
THE SOY BEAN.
ta Volar to Stock, Mourn and BkCof 4
llott to riant anil Harvest.
Souie of the following reasons on aQ
t'lint of which the Kansas station ree»
(mmends the soy bean to fanners of
bat state will apply In some other sec
ions and may Interest those who are
■oitsidt>rlng the question, "Will It pay
o raise soy beans?"
The soy l>ean stands drought as well
us Kaffir corn or
ouched by the chinch bugs, the grain
THE bOY BEAN.
Is a richer feed than linseed meal, and
the plant enriches the soil on which It
Is grown. It will cost the Kansas
farmer from 40 to 53 cents per bushel
to raise the soy bean, sl3 to $lB per
| ton. Pound for pound soy beans are
! worth a little more than oil meal, and
' feeders are paying $24 to S3O a ton for
ill meal.
A bountiful supply of protein w
greatly Increase the milk yield.
beans are rich In protein. Three to
four pounds of soy beans per day add
»d to the usual dairy ration of hay,
fodder, sorghum and corn will Increase
the winter milk yield of the average
Kansas cow from 25 4o 100 per cent.
Fed to young pigs, soy beans will
make them grow more rapidly 'and
have better health. Fed to fattening
bogs, soy beans will Induce them to eat
more, make more gain for each bushel
sf feed eaten and shorten the fattening •
period.
Soy beans fed to young stock will
push their growth and "keep the calf
fat," which Is so necessary to econom
ical feeding. Fed to fattening ani
mals, soy l>eaus, will produce the same
results as linseed meal at less cost.
Kansas sheep men should raise soy
beans and secure the results obtained
from linseed meal with a home grown
feed at reduced cost.
Soy beans quickly and cheaply In
crease the yield of other crops.
The soy beau should not be planted
until the ground becomes warm and
the danger of severe frost Is over.
While the plants may not die if the
Jf
BOY 11EAX KNIFE OX CULTIVATOR BEAN*
seed is put in earlier, they do uot
thrive. The beaus should be planted In
rows 30 to 42 inches apart, with the
tingle beans dropped one to two Inches
apart In the rows. One-half bushel of
seed per acre Is required. We prefer
surface planting and cultivate the
same as corn. Level culture Is neces
sary to harvesting a full crop.
The crop should be harvested when
the pods turn brown and before the
beaus are fully ripe. If left until the
beans become thoroughly ripe, thi'pods
will oi>en and the beans will be scat
tered on the ground.
The only satisfactory way we have
found for harvesting the crop Is to cut
the plants off just below the surface of
the ground and rake them Into wind
rows with a horse rake. Where not
»ver ten acres are grown this cutting
tan be done by removing the shovels
from a two horse cultivator and bolt
lug to tin; inner shank of each beam a
horizontal knife about 18 inches long,
the knife set out from the cultivator
and sloping back from point of attach
ment to point so as not to clog. Any
blacksmith cau make these knives.
Mlzliik of Sivret and Field Corn.
I have been growing sweet corn for
20 years, and when I have planted
Bweet corn within the range of field
corn I have had them more or lesß
mixed. I grew field corn for market,
and when the sweet corn came In range
with It I would have a small strip
of sweet corn, but It would conform to
the size of the field corn. I am satis
fied that they would mix the first year.
—Charles Rlack, New Jersey.
«•( W«Mt mt It Too.
"Poor man! 1 svipposc you've been i
soldier and had to have your legs am
putatodV"
"Oh, no, lady. I'm a seafarln mat
an wunst 'ad a nargyment wlv a
shark."—Ally Sloper.
Ilia E re» Open.
"Have you considered what matri
mony means?" asked old I>ar la Mark.
"Oh, yes," replied young Spendy.
That's why I want to marry your
daughter."—Philadelphia North Ameri
can.
m ~ "•