Hd's Bargains! in Summer Footwear.! hand a large stock of summer footwear which will Too many Tan Shoes and Oxfords, this sale and secure some of the bargains prices.#-- .. ..$2.25 . .. to >x calf shoes reduced to SI.OO Men's heavy sole lace working shoes. . . .SI.OO Men's three sole box toe shoes 1.40 .... Ladies' fii.e Dongola slippers 35 c -- Men's fi.ie satin calf shoes SI.OO ; , „ Sweeping Otters in Misses' and Children's Shoes. We are offering some big bargains in Misses' and Children's fine DONGOLA and RUSSETT shoes and slippers. We have made reductions in all lines and ask you to call and j examine our and we can save you money. JOHN BICKEL, 12S SOUTH STREET, - - BUTLER, PA! j < The+Centennial * Souvenir] 11 50c 50c j j 1 \ As a pictoral record of Butler and Butler Co., con- / V y \ tains 94 pages of the highest style of the printers and / / J C photo-engravers art —bird-eye views of some of Butler J r N / county's most famous oiJ towns and historical spots. S s r J Borough Government, Board of Trade, City Government, v } S m Members of The Bar Association, etc., etc. Over 400 i v Jbof the finest kind of half tone pictures. r / f ✓ For Sale by all Newsdealers or by the Publishers on\C A Floor, Troutman B'l'g, Butler, Pa. ( Out of Style. Out of the World! > I Bjsti Our garments have a style that is I J{\ 11 ® easily distinguished from the ordin- I m ary. They are the result of careful I study and'practical application ofthe [ ideas gathered by frequent visits to / the fashion centres, and by personal JL contact with the leading tailors and ■n | jfijy fashion authorities of the county, jf i m,They are made in our own work ™ [| 1[ '* shop by the highest paid journey- II men tailors in Butler, yet it is pos sible to (and we doj give our patrons these first-class clothes at the price you would pay for the other sort. We believe we have given good reasons why our tailoring is the best and cheapest and would be grateful for the opportunity to show you our handsome spring stock and give you prices to prove them. Alai-irl MAKER OF rAlCll MEN'S Clothes, Spring STYLES nr, § uff * Men don't buy clothing for the pur-"®" | j 1 W .Repose or spending money. They YfYto get the best possible results for the!?: ■jfcmoney expeuded. Not cheap goods'®" /J H 7 dERk g ,2&£, but goods as cheap as they can 3, sold for and made up properly. If fT, | f\\ 5 ■J?fyou want the correct tiling at the C'>r-">9c price, call and examine ouo|c. "" i \ %'f\ tfrffw i j j X large stick of SPRING WEIGHTS—£ | \ pijlMr ? , if STYLES, SHADES AND& | \\ "j 111 f- < Fits and WorkmanshiD |IJ ,1 ; ' Guaranteed. I—fj'. /' G F. KeCK, 42 North Main Street, ••• Butler, Pa LUXURY SUCH AS THE ROMANS INDULGED IN 'K 1 ill "**«s •4-4 • !v\ t B s * ++* can be reveled in a modern bath .. j_.|_ 1 \\ ■ I * room, when fitted up with porce , ■'- lain tub, shower bath, tiled walls -..•■'•if'-iand floors and exposed plumbing. • K 43 \'(f' We will fit you up a bathroom ' k * such as Lucullus never laved him self in, with all the modern im . provements and conveniences, at prices that cannot be competed . with. Geo. W. Whitehill, 318 South Main St., PLUMBER, Butler, Pa. Subscribe for the CITIZEN _ .THE BUTLER CITIZEN. Stat* Li« r * r y Constipation, Headache, Biliousness, Heartburn, Indigestion, Dizziness, Indicate that your liver Is out of order. The best medicine to rouse the !iver and cure all thfip ills. Is found In Hood's PHts, 25 cents. Sold by uil medicine dealers. Selling Goods Regardless of Cost. "\ißirmmencing June 29, I will continue to close out my entire line of SUMMER CLOTHING REGARDLESS OF COST. 750 Suits will be sacrificed for almi -t nothing, ar.d all other goods will also l>e j sold at extremely low prices. All this clothing is New, up to-date and welt mad -. People who hare visited my store 1 within the last 30 days will testify to t 1 is, and to the low prices at which it s 1 sold. Do not pay high prices for cloth ing at other places when you can buy \ better goods here for almost nothing. I have always sold better goods >t lower prices than can be bought at pny other place, and at this sale the prices j will be still lower. Go all over town J and examine other clothing, then come ; and examine mine, and you will soon ' e ; convinced that I can save you 25 per j cent, to 30 per cent. All the bargains that will be offered j can not be put down 011 paper. Come | and see for yourself T. H. BURTON, 118 South Main Street, Butler WILL YOU BE ONE. My customers arc my tx-st advertisements Every pair of glasses fitted by rue sell otßers Every day some one says Mr. So and Sc an 1 so well pleased with bis glasses 1 thought 1 would come to you. There is only one glass that will fit your eye properly. 1 f you come to me 1 will give it to you aud vou will IH> satisfied. No charge for examination, and satisfaetion guaranteed glasses please. CAKk «• k£IGHN6R, JEWELER AND OPTICIAN. Noßo9 S. Main Street Butler, Pa Good Fit and Work Guaranteed. Karl Schluchter, Practical Tailor and Cutter 125 \V. Jeflerson, Butler, Pa. Busheiing, Cleaning and Repairing a Specialty. SNYDER & THOMPSON West Je3erson St, Butler, Pa. LIVERY, BOARDING AND SALE STABLE. PLENTY OF ROOM, GOOD CARP: AND FIRST CLASS EQUIPMENT. BIRD SNYDER, JAMES A. THOMPSON. People's Phone 109, Bell's Phone 59 I Milk Cans | 3f Wc make the strongest,X Yheaviest and most service-If Vable milk cans made. Y X 5 gal. Cans $lB per doz. X X Try Our Cans. A X I. J. KING, 6 0532 Grant St., Pittsburg,Pa.O XXXSOOC<S<XJO<XX NEW HOUSE. NEW FURNITDRE, Central Hotel SIMEON' NIXON, JR.,I MFRRB J. BROWN NIXON, ( » BUTLER, PA Opposite Court House. Next I)iH>r to Park Theatre. Sunday Dinners A Specialty. Meals 25 cts. Rooms 50 ets. Regular Rates sl. Local and Long Distance l'hones. Hotel Waverly, South McKean Street, J. W HAWORTH, Prop'r., BUTLER, PA Steam Heat and Electric Light. The most commodious] office in the city. Stabling in Connection. Now is The Time to Have Your Clothing CLEANED OR 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- WsuWe do fine work in out door Photographs. This is the time of year to have a picture ol your house. Give us a trial.J Agent for the Jamestown Sliding Blind Co.—Now York. R. FISHER & SON L. S. McJUNKIN, Insurance and Real Eslate Agent. 117 E. JEFFERSON, i BUTLER, - PA BUTLER THURSDAY, -JULY 1 900 *'l. ty . ,i.. ,i_*. .ie.<e ."J • 4 • • ' >'J •'£ •ff ■ • ;>• •£' • *^»viUTiff X*: - -it • a»* V • gpESTWn A I m (fTE AINI /(/ OLTVB X" f~is wir 'T>J W\_ BCHJtETXTia. Z'*- I AFRICAN FARM s I v-; tix A TALE OF LIFE IN THE *i- * BOER REPUBLIC. it» _ lyt 2-w .-♦j'. : 'j* ■>* - griiu*&r; " j* : rSrr SI • % • ?.'• • XT- £»• a>• i'-' at •ti CHAPTER XXV. GREGORY'S WOSAXnOOn. Slowly over the tlat came a cart. On the bock seat sat Gregory. hte arms folded, lils hat drawn over his eyes. A Kaffir lx>y sat oil the front seat driving, and at lils feet sat Doss, who now and again lifted his nose and eyes above the level of the spin.*;. ml to look at the surrounding country ind then, with an exceedingly knowing wink of j his left eye. tnrncd t<> his companions, j thereby Intimating that he clearly per eclvod his wherealiouts. No one no- j tlced the eart coining. Waldo, who i was at work at his carpenter's table . In the wagon house, saw nothing till. ! chancing to look he perceived J Doss standing Ivforc "im. the I>j*s trend.h..,:, the little nose wrinkled and £ 'f short. suffocating barks glv- Ing utterance to Ills Joy at reunion Em. whose eyes had ached with look ing out across the plain, was now at work In a back room and knev.* nothing till, looking up. she saw Gregory, with his straw hat and blue eyes, standing In the • virsvay. He greeted her quiet ly. huug 1 l.« luit up la Its old place 1h»- hind t!.« ;!oor. and for any change In his manner or appearance he might have been gone only the day before to fetch letters from the town. Only his beard was gone, and his face was grown thinner, 110 took off his leather galtc.:i. said the afternoon was hot and the dusty and asked for some ! 'I hey talked of wool nail the cattle iiU'l the sheep. i:ad Mm gave Ului the pile of Utters that had come for him (luring the months of absence, but i.f the thin;- - that lay at their loans neither sail anything. Then he went out busk at the kraals. and at supper Hi. .jave him hut cakes r.ud coffee. Tl.cj taiki.. about the serv ants and tlu-i; ate their meal In quiet. She cuine mid sat on a footstool near him. 'T>o you wish to hear anything?" he asked. She whispered, "Yes. If it does not hurt you." Yet he lay quiet for a long time. The light throngh the open door show d him to her. where he lay, with his arm thrown across his eyes. At last he spoke. I'erhaps it was a relief to him to speak. To Bloeuifontelu, In the Free State, to which through an agent he had trac ed them, Gregory had gone. At the ho tel where Lyndall and her stranger had staid he put up. He was shown the very roeiu In which they had slept. The colored boy who had driven them to the next town told him In which house they had boarded, and Gregory went on. In that town he found they had left the cart and bought a spider and four grays, and Gregory's heart rejoiced. Now, indeed. It would bo easy to trace their course, and lie turn ed Lis steps northward. At oue desolate farm the Boer had a good deal to tell. The lady had said she liked a wagon that stood before the door. VTlthout asking the price the Englishman had offered £l.jo for the old thing and bought oxen worth £lO for £l(s. The Dutchman chuckled, for he had the "Salt-relm's" money in the box under his bed. Gregory laughed, too, In silence. He could not lose sight of them now, so slowly they would bn-to to move with that cumbrous ox wagon. v,.{ when that evening came and he reachoo •. "ttle wayside Inn no one could tell him anything j ( ray . clers. The master, a surly creature, half stupid with Boer brandy, sat on the bench before the door smoking. Greg ory sat beside him, questioning, but he smoked on. He remembered noth ing of such stwuigers. How should he know who had been there months and months before? He smoked on. Greg ory, very weary, tried to awako his memory; said that the lady he was seeking for was very beautiful, had a little mouth and tiny, very tiny feet. The man only smoked on as sullenly as at first. What were little, very little, mouths and feet to him? But his daughter leaned out in the window above. She was dirty and lazy and liked to 101 l there when travelers came to hear the men talk, but she had a soft heart. Presently a hand came out of the window, and a pair of velvet slip pers touched his shoulder, tiny sllp j pers with black flowers. He pulled them out of her hand. Only one wo man's feet had worn them; he kuew that "Left here last summer by a lady," said the girl; "might be the one you are looking for; never saw any feet so small." They might have come In a wagon and spider; she could not tell. But the gentleman was very handsome, tall, lovely figure, blue eyes, wore gloves always when he went out; an English officer, perhaps; no Afrikander, cer tainly. Gregory stopped her. The lady? Well, she was pretty, rather, the girl said; very cold, dull uir, silent. They stuid for, it might be, five days; slept In the wing over against the "stoep;" quarreled some times, she thought—the lady. She had seen everything when sho went In to wait. One day the gentleman touched her hair. She drew back from him as though his lingers poisoned her; went to the other end of the room if he came to sit near her; walked out alone; cold wife for such a handsome husband, the girl thought. She evidently pitied Idm, he was such a beautiful man. They went away early one morning, how or in which way the girl could not tell. Gregory Inquired of the servants, but nothing more was to be learned, so the next morning he saddled his horse and went on. At the farms he came to tlie gOijJ old "oorns" ahd "tantes" ask ed him to have coffee, and the little shoeless children peeped out at the stranger from behind ovens and gables, but no one had seen what he asked for. This way and that he rode to pick up the thread he had dropped, but the spider and the wagon, the liUle lady and the handsome gentleman, no one liad seen. In the towns he fared yet worse. Once indeed hope came to him. On the 1 "f a liotel at which he stafcl .la ni at In a certain little vil lage there walked a gentleman, grave and kindly looking. It was not hard to open conversation with him about the weather, and then — Had he ever seen such and such people, a gentle man and lady, a spider and wagon, ar rive at that place? The kindly gentle man shook his head. What was the lady like? lie Inquired Gregory painted hair like silken floss, small mouth, imderllp very full and pink; upper Hp pink, but very tNu and curled There were four white . sp->ts on the nail of her rtght hand ( forefinger, and h< r eyebrows were very j delicately curved. The gentleman look- I ed thoughtful, as try'ng to remember. ' • • Yes. and a rosebud tinge In tho ; cheeks. hands like lilies and j>erfectly i seraphic smile." ! "That Is she! That Is 6he!" cried i Gregi ry. Who else could it be? He asked where she had gone to. The gentle • " st thoughtfully stroked his I beard. lie would try to remember. ' Were not her ears Here such a vlo ' !■ -lit fit of coughing seized Lini that | h< ran away Into tho house An ill f* <1 ; I clerk and a dirty barman standing In ■ j the doorway laughed aloud. Gregory wondered if they conld (m> laughing at the gentleman's cough, and then he heard some one laughing In the room Into which the gentleman had gone. He must follow him and try to learn more, but he soon found that there was nothing more to be learned there. Poor Gregory! One day, coming to a little town. hl3 horses knocked up. he resolved to rest them there. Tho little hotel of the town was a bright and sunny place, like the Jovial face of the clean little woman who kept it and who trotted about talking always; talking to the customers In the taproom and to the maids in the kitchen and to the pass ersby when she could hall them from the windows; talking, as good natured women with large mouths and small noses always do. In season and out. There was a little front parlor In the hotel, kept for strangers who wanted to be alone. Gregory sat there to eat his breakfast, and the landlady dusted the room and talked of the great finds at the diamond fields and the badness of maidservants and the shameful con duct of the Dutch parson in that town to the English inhabitants. Gregory ate his breakfast and listened to noth ing. He had asked his one question, had had his answer. Now she might talk on. Presently a door In the corner open ed, and a woman came out—a Mozam blquer, with a red handkerchief twist ed round her head. She carried in her hand a tray with a slice of toast crum bled fine and a half filled cup of coffee and an egg broken open, but not eaten, ller ebony face grinned complacently as she shut the door soft!y and said, "Good morning." The landlady began to talk to her. "You are not going to leave her real ly, Ayah, are you?" she said. "The maids say so, but I'm sure you wouldn't do such a thing." The Mozambiquer grinned. "Husband says I must go home ." "But she hasn't goi any one else and won't have any one else. Come, now," said the landlady. "I've no time to be sitting always In a sickroom, not if I was paid anything for It" The Mozambiquer only showed her white teeth good naturedly for an swer and went out and the landlady followed her. Gregory, glad to be alone, watched the sunshine as It came over the fuchsias in the window and ran up and down on the paneled door in the cor ner. The Mozambiquer had closed it loosely behind her, and presently something touched It inside. It mov ed a little. Then It was still, then mov ed again. Then through the gap a small nose appeared and a yellow ear OTfs (.y,. Then the whole head obtruded, placing iwn on one side, wrinkled Its nose disap provingly at Gregory and withdrew. Through the half open door came a fair scent o,f vinegar, and the room was dark and still. Presently the landlady came back. "I>eft the door open," she said, bus tling to shut it, "but a darky will be a darky and never carries a head on his shoulders like other folks. Not ill, I hope, sir?" she said, looking at Greg ory when she had shut the bedroom door. "Who," asked Gregory, "le in that room 1" Glad to have a little innocent piece of gossip to relate and some one willing to hear It the landlady made the most of a little story as she cleared the ta ble. Six months before a lady had come alone to the hotel in a wagon, with only a colored leader and a driv er. Eight days after a little baby had been born. If Gregory stood up and looked out at the window, he would see a blue gum tree in the graveyard. Close by it was a little grave. The ba ' by was burled there, a tiny thing, only lived two hours, and the mother her -1 self almost went with it. After awhile ! she was better, but one day she got up ' out of bod, dressed herself without ! saying a word to any one and went ' out. It was a drizzly day. A little time after some one saw her sitting on the wet ground under the blue gum tree, with the rain dripping from her j hat and shawl. They went to fetch her, but she would not come until she \ chose. When she did, she had gone to bed and had not risen again from it; | never would, the doctor said. She was wry patient, poor thing! ' When you went In to ask her how she was, she said always "Better" or 1 "Nearly well" and lay still in the dark ' ened room and never troubled any one. The Mozambiquer took care of her, and she would not allow any one else to touch her; would not so much as al low any one else to see her foot uncov -1 ered. She was strange in many ways, 1 but she paid well, poor thing! And now the Mozambiquer was going, and ' fche would have to take up with some one else. Before dinner he had ridden out of the town to where on a rise a number a of transport wagons were "outspan ' ned." Tlie Dutchman driver of oue wondered at the stranger's eagerness ' to free himself of lils horses. Stolen perhaps, bnt It was worth his while to ' buy them at so low a price, so the t horses changed masters, and Gregory walked off with lils saddlebags slung t across lils arm. Once out of sight of the wagons, he struck out of tlie road and walked across the "veld," the dry, 1 flowering grasses waving everywhere e about him. Half way across the plain ho came to a deep gully which the rain j torrents had washed out 'but which . was now dry. Gregory sprang down r into its red bed. It was a safe place , and quiet. When lie had looked about .. him, he sat down under the shade of nil overhanging bank and fanned him self with lils hat, for the afternoon was hot, and lie had walked tast. At „ his feet the (lusty anls ran about, and U tho high red l*«k In-fore him was coT- I ered by a network of roots and fibers ' w..shed bare by the rains. Alk>\c hln ! head rose the clear blue Afilcan sky. At his side were the saddlebags full of women's clothing Gregory looked up half plaintively Into the blue sky. "Am 1, *m I Gregory Nazlanzen I Hose?" he said. It was nil ho Strang.*, h sitting there In that "sloot" In that up country I plain- strange ss the fantastic, chang ing shapes In a summer cloud. At last, tired out, he fell asleep, with his bead against the bank When he woke, the shadow had stretched across the "sloot," and the sun was on the edge of the plain. Now he must be up and doing. He drew from his breast pock | et a little sixpenny looking glass and i hung it on one of the roots that stuck i ■ out from the bank. Then he dressed i himself iu one of the old fashioned j i gowns and r great pinked out collar, j Then he took out a razor. Tuft by tuft the soft brown beard fell down Into the snnd, and the little ants took It to line their nests with. Then thl? glass showed a face surrounded by a frilled cap, jsvhlte B.i a woman's, with a little mouth, a very short upper Up and a i receding chin. Presently a rather tall woman's fig ure was making Its way across the "veld " As It passed a hollowed out nut heap It knelt down and stuffed !n tlie saddlebags with the man's cloth ' Ing. closing up the ant hill with bits of i grouuJ to look as natural as possible, j Like sinner hiding his deed of sin. tlie blder*fctarted once and looked round, bus yet thrre was no one near save a "nieerkat." who had lifted herself out of her hole and sat <*i her hiud legs watching. He did not like that even | she should see, and when he rose sho j dived away Into her hole. Then he j walked on leisurely, that the dusk might have reached the village streets j before he walked there. The first ; house was the smith's, and before the J open door two Idle urchins lolled. As he hurried up the street In the gather- j ing gloom he heard them laugh long j and loudly behind him. He glanced round fearlngly and would almost have fled but that the strange skirts clung about his legs. And. after all. It was only a spark that had alighted on the head of one and not the strange figure they laughed at. The door of the hotel stood wide open, and the light fell out Into tlie street He knocked, and the landlady came. She peered out to look for the cart that had brought tho traveler, but Gregory's heart was brave now he was so near the quiet room. He told her he had come with tlie transport wag ons that stood outside the town. Ho had walked in and wanted lotlg ' ings for the night. It was a deliberate lie, glibly told. He would have told 50, though the re cording angel had stood in the next room with his pen dipped In the Ink. What was it to him? He remembered that she lay there, saying always, "I am better." The landlady put Ids supper in the little parlor where he had sat In the morning. When it was on the table, she sat down in the rocking chair, as her fashion was, to knit and talk, that she might gather news for her custom ers in the taproom. In the white face under the queer, deep fringed cap she saw nothing of the morning's traveler. The newcomer was communicative. She was a nurse by profession, she said; had come to the Transvaal, hear ing that good nurses were needed there. She had not yet found work. The landlady did not perhaps know whether there would lie any for her In that town? The landlady put down her knitting and smote her fat hands together. If It wasn't the very finger of God's providence, as though you saw it hang ing out of the sky, she said. Here was a lady 111 and needing a new nurse that very day and not able to get one to her mind, aud now —well, If it wasn't enough to convert all the atheists and freethinkers in the Transvaal she didn't know! Then the landlady proceeded to de tail facts. "I'm sure you will suit her," she add ed. "You're Just the kind. She has newt"* - to pay vou with, has everything that inoib, _ , , lD(1 j got a letter with a check in It ttn . the other day from some one who says I'm to spend it for her and not to let her know. She is asleep now, but I'll take you in to look at her." Tlie landlady opened the door of the next room, and Gregory followed her. A table stood near the bed, and a lamp burning low stood on It. The bed was a great four poster with white cur tains, and the quilt was of rich crim son satin,' but Gregory stood Just In side the door, with his head bent low, and saw no farther. "Come nearer! I'll turn the lamp up a bit that you can have a look at her. A pretty thing, isn't It?" said the land lady. Near the foot of the bed was a dent in the crimson quilt, and out of it Doss' small head and bright eyes looked knowingly. "See how the lips move. She Is In pain," said the landlady. Then Greg ory looked up at what lay on the cush ion, a little white, white face, trans parent as an angel's, with a cloth bound round the forehead and with soft, short hair tossed about on tlie pillow. "We had to cut It off," said the wo man, touching it with her forefinger; "soft as silk, like a wax doll's." But Gregory's heart was bleeding. "Never get up again, the doctor says," said the landlady. Gregory uttered one word. In an In stant the beautiful eyes opened widely and looked round the room and into the dark corners. "Who Is here? Whom did I hear speak?" "Only this lady, ma'am, a nurse by profession. She is willing to stay and take care of you if you can come to terms with her." Lyndall raised herself on her el bow and cast one keen, scrutinizing glance over lilm. "Have I never seen you before?" she asked. "No." She fell back wearily. "I'erhaps you would like to arrange the terms between yourselves," said the landlady. "Here is a chair. I will be back presently." Gregory sat down, with bent bead , and quick breath. She did not speak and lay with half closed eres, seeming ( to have forgotten him. ' "Will you turn the lamp down a lit tle?" she said at last "I cannot bear the light" t Then his heart grew braver iu tlie , shadow, and he spoke. Nursing was to him, he said, his chosen life's work. He ' x wanted no money if— She stopped him. , "I take no service for which Ido not i pay," she said. "What I gave to my j last nurse I will give to you. If you do > not like it, you may go." t And Gregory muttered humbly he f would take it. Afterward she tried to turn herself. , He lifted her. Ah! A shrunken littlo , body! He conld feel Its weakness as j he touched it His hands were to liini glorified for what they had done. "Thank you! That is so nice! Other people hurt me l»**n they touch me,' she said. 'Thank you!" Theu after :t j little while she repeated humbly: "Thank you! They hurt tae so." Gregory sat down, trembling. Ills* little ewe luiub—could they hurt her? The doctor said of Gregory four days ifrer, "She is the most experienced nurse 1 ever came in contact with." Grcgorj. standing In the passage, j heard It and laughed Iu lils heart What need had lie of experience? Ex perience teaches us In a millennium « hat passion teaches us in an hour. \ Kaffir studies, all his life the discern j Ing of distant sounds, but he will uev er hear my step when my love hears I» coming to her window In the dark over j 'he short grass. Ia that quiet room Lyndall lay on the j bed with the dog at her feet and Greg j orv sat In his dark corner watching. She seldom slept, and through those . long, long days she would lie watching i the round streak of sunlight that cafifi3 j through the knot In the shutter or the ! : massive lion's paw on which the ward- j robe rested. What thoughts were In ! those eyes? Gregory wondered. He , dared not Hsk. Gregory thought she had uo palu. j She never groaned. Ouly sometimes, when the light was near her, he i thought he could see slight coutrac- | Hons about her lips and eyebrows, lie slept on the sofa outside her door. | One night he thought he heard a i ! sound, and. opeulug it softly, looked in. i She was crying out aloud, as if she and j . her palu were alone In the world. The j light fell on the red quilt and the little j hands that were clasped over the head, i The wide open eyes were looking up, I and the heavy drops fell slowly from i them. "I canuot bear any more, not any more," she said In a deep voice. "O | God, God! Have I not borne iu sl i lence? Have I not endured these long, i long months? But now, now, O God, I ! cannot!" Gregory kaelt In the doorway listen i ing. "I do not ask for wisdom, not human love, not work, not knowledge, not for all things I have longed for," she cried, "only a little freedom from palu, only one little hour without palu! Then I will suffer again." She sat up and bit the little baud Gregory loved. He crept away to the front door and stood looking out at the quiet star light. When he came back, she was lying In her usual posture, the quiet ey s looking at the lion's paw. He came close to the bed. "\ou have much pain tonight?" he csked her. - "No, uot much." ••Can I do auythlug for you?" "No, nothing." She still drew her Hps together aud motioned with her fingers toward the dog sleeping at her feet Gregory lift ed lilm and laid him at her side. She mude Gregory turn open the bosom of her nightdress that the ift>g might put his black muzzle between her breasts. She crossed her arms over him. Greg ory left them lying there together. The next day, when they asked her how she was, she answered, "Better." "Some one ought to tell her," said the landlady. "We can't let her soul go out into eternity not knowing, especial ly when I don't iliink it was all right about the child. You ought to go and tell her, doctor." P i the little doctor, on ami on,. went In at last. When iV. came opt of the room, he shook his flst In the landlady's face. "Next time you have any devil's work to do, do It yourself," he said and shook his fist in her face again and went away swearing. When Gregory went into tho bed room, he only found her moved, her tiody curled up aud drawn close to the wall. He dared not disturb her. At last after a long time she turned. "Bring me food," she said. "I want to eat—two eggs and toast and meat two large slices of toast, please." Wondering, Gregory brought a tray with all that she had asked for. "Sit me up aud put it close to me," she said. "I um going to eat it alf." She tried to draw the tilings near her with her fingers and rearrange the plates. She cut the toast into long - open both put a tiny morseT oV . r owfl mouth aud fed the dog with meat put Into his Jaws with her Au gers. •Ts It 12 o'clock yet?" she said. "I think I do not generally eat so early. Put It away, please, carefully—no, do not take it away, only on the table. When the clock strikes 12, I will eat It" She lay down, trembling. After a lit tle while she said: "Give me my clothes." He looked at her. "Yes; I am going to drees tomorrow. I should get up now, but It Is rather late. Put them on that chair. My col lars are In that little box, my boots be hind the door." Her eyes followed him intently as he collected the articles oue by one and placed them on the chair as she di rected. 'Tut It nearer," she said. "I canuot see it" And she lay watching the clothes, with lier hand under her cheek. "Now open tho shutter wide," she said. "I am going to read." The old, old tone was again in the sweet voice. lie obeyed her and open ed the shutter and raised her up among the pillows. "Now bring my books to me," she said, motioning eagerly with her fin gers, "the large book and the reviews and the plays. I want them all." He piled them round her on the bed. She drew them greedily closer, her J eyes very bright, but her face as white as a mountain lily. "Now the big one off the drawers. No; you need not help me to hold my book," she said. "I can hold it my self." Gregory went back to his corner, and for a little time the restless turning over of leaves was to be beard. "Will you open the window," she said, almost querulously, "and throw this book out? It Is so utterly foolish. I thought It was a valuable book, but the words are merely strung together. They make no sense. Yes—so!" she said, with approval, seeing him fling It out Into the street "I must have been very foolish when I thought that book good." Then she turned to read and leaned her little elbows resolutely on the great volume and knit lier brows. This was Shakespeare. It must mean some thing. "I wish you would take a handker chief and tie It tight round my head. It aches so." He had not been long in his seat when he saw drops full from beneath the hands that shaded the eyes on to the page. "I am not accustomed to so much i light. It makes my head swim a lit tle," she said "Go out aud close the shutter." When lie came back, she lay shrivel ed up among the pillows. II<; heard no sound of weeping, but the shoulders shook. lie darkened the room completely. Wlieu Gregory went to his sofa that night, she told lilm to wake her early. She w*uld l>e dressed before breakfast. le.'-s. when morning came. »he said It u9h n little cold and lay all day watching her clothes upon the chair. Still she >• nt for her oxen In the coun try. Tliey would start on Mou«.lay and (To down to the colony. In the afternoon she told him to open the window wide and draw the bed near It. It was a leaden afternoon. The dull ralncloudb rested close to the roofs of the houses, and the little street was silent and deserted. Now and then a gust of wind eddying round caught up the dried leaves, whirled theui hither and thither under the trees and drop ped them again Into the gutter. Then all was quiet. She lay looking out. Presently the bell of the church began • to toll, and up the village street came a long procession. They were carrying j an old man to his last resting place. , She followed them with her eyes till they turned in among the trees at the ! gate. "Who was that?" she asked. "An old man." he answered, "a very , old man. They sav lie was I*4. but 'lis name I do not kn< v." She mused awhile, looking out with I fixed eyes. "That is why the bell rang so cheer ! fully," 6he said. ' When the old die, it is well. They have had their time. It is when the young die that tho bells weep drops of blood." "But the old love life?" he said, for i it was sweet to hear her speak. ! She raised herself on her elbow. "They love life. They do not want to die." she answered. "But what of that? They have had their time. They knew tlint a man's life is threescore years and ten. They should have made ttieir plans accordingly. But the young." she said, "the young, cut down cruelly when they have not see*",, when they have not kuown, when th y have not found—it is for them that Uie bells weep blood. I heard in the ringing it was an old man. When the old die— Listen to the belli It is laughing: 'lt is it is right! lie has hail his time.' They cannot i-lur so for the young." She fell back exhausted. The hot ißht died from her eyes, and she lay looking out into the street. By and by stragglers from the funeral began to come back here and there among Then all was quiet, aud the night began to settle down upon the village street. After ward. wben the room was almost dark. So that they could not see each other's face, she said, "It will rain tonight," and moved restlessly on the pillows. "How terrible when tho rain falls down on you." lie wondered what she meant, and they sat on In the still darkening room. She moved again. "Will you presently take my cloak— the new gray cloak from behind the door and go out with it? You will find a little grave at the foot of the tall blue gum tree. The water drips off the long, pointed leaves. You must cover it up with that." [TO BE CONTI*X7*P.] ■to A Methodical Doctor. "The most methodical man In New Orleans is a physician of my acquaint ance," said a druggist. "In one ccrner of hlVfeedroom are three valises stand ing in a row. Above them on a rack are a traveling cap, an umbrella and a shoulder strap holding a mosquito net ting and a mackintosh. The doctor has a large country practice, and he keeps this equipment in readiness for sudden out of town calls. "One side of each valise contains a set of tools, and so on for a special class of surgical cases, all different, but the other sides are exactly alike. Their contents consist of a change of linen, a copy of 'Robinson Crusoe,' a bottle of Worcestershire sauce, a pipe and tobacco and a box of dominos. Thus fortified, the doctor says he can stand a siege of two days on any plan tation in the entire south. "When he gets a hurry up call he simply picks up the satchel that con tains the right Instruments and walks pff. He says that his system has saved an enormous amount of valuable time and several more or less valuable lives."—New Orleans Times-Democrat. REVENGE. A Pathetic ana story ProW Gay Paree. A girl in Parte had been jilted by her lover, though she had tried all she could to retain her place in his affec tions. After she had wept in solitude for several days she determined to have her revenge. The viscount was preparing to go to dine at his club and was waiting for the return of his valet, whom he had sent out for a sporting paper, when there was a loud ring, and he had to open the door himself. Before him stood a tall female figure, dressed in black, her face ghastly pale with suppressed emotion. The vis count started back. "Jeanne!" The young lady advanced a few steps into the passage, hissed out the word "Wretch!" and produced from behind her back a small Venetian vial, the gift of her former lover. Quick as lightning she lifted it in the air and dashed -its contents into the face of the gay deceiver. With a loud yell he dropped to the ground and shouted for help. The neighbors, the concierge anil tiie police hastened to the sx>ot. The unhappy man could not be per suaded to get up from the gro«nd, on which he rolled about in apparent ago ny, crying: "Vitriol! Vitriol! I am a dead man!" Meantime Jeanne stood there like a marble statue, gazing at her victim. "Are you the perpetrator of the deed?" gasped the commissary of po lice, out of breath with running up the stairs. Jeanne gave a silent nod. "You have thrown a corrosive fluid at his face?" Another nod. "I am dying—dying!" "What kind of a fluid was lt7' Jeanne hesitated to reply. A gleam of fierce satisfaction illumined her fea tures. Then came the answer, clear and steady, from her lips: "A very weak infusion of mustard." Jeanne was avenged. Paris had not laughed so much for a long time. The viscount made himself scarce.—London Telegraph. Drother Dickey's Philosophy. l>e road ter destruction is so broad dat even de bowlegged man kin fln' plenty er room. Say what yoh please 'bout de devil, he alius at his post en ready ter wait on customers. De nex' worl* is so clost ter us dat some folks feels oncomfortable in flan nel underwear. De worl' tu'n roun" once a day, but It never go back ter tin' what it forgot. De truth is a burnln lamp, but some folks puts it out by too much trlmmin er de wick.—Atlanta Constitution. Some men are never satisfied. Aftei having their limbs broken, lieadi smashed, etc., they go to law and irj to get further damages.— Chicago News, Make life a ministry of love, and 11 Will always be worth living. Mo. 27 SHE MADE A MISTAKE. [Cut Uot Her Money'* Worth, and Tliut Wu V hat She Wasted. Aunt Lucy lives on the North Side, says the Chicurfo Times-Herald, aud has been a widow for nearly 20 years, not exactly because she the state of widowhood better than any other, but fi'r reasons tliat uot b® dw^ll • upon t this time. There are two fo»6ll of amusement that Aunt Lucy Is ofip^ > .Il.< fond of—going to card parties " v i funerals. She belongs to three aft :i whist clubs, and now that the le she has known ever since 6he ; ncie Thurlow came here 43 years ; u.->. are getting along in years there Is ; an average of about one funeral a week j that she can attend upon the ground that she at least knew the corpse by sight, even If they never had a "speak ! lng acquaintance." A week ago last Thursday, when Aunt Lucy picked up her paper and glanced over the death notices, she ex j claimed In a voice that was choked ; with emotion: "My g"oodnessl Here's Henry John son dead! My, my, my! I wonder ; who'll be the next to go? I used to know his cousin Fannie Garwood so well! I suppose It will be no more than the proper thing for me to go to the funeral. And they live away over on ' the South Side too. It'll take all day to get there aud back. Still, there is a duty we owe to our friends that mnst lot be passed over lightly." So on the following day Aunt Lucy put on her mcst somber clothes and started early. The funeral sermon was fine, and Aunt Lucy sat behind a cor ner of the piano upon a register was almost red hot aud perspired and wept aud got a stitch in her side. The singing was lovely, the corpse looked as natural as life, and after it was all Aunt Lucy started home, dar chmi'lug to herself that It was on|| of the most enjoyable funerals she had ever attended. Her railroad fare amounted to nearly half a dollar, and she spent 20 cents for lunch before starting on the trip home, but she didn't regret it In the least She had received the worth of her money and more too. As luck would have It, Aunt Lucy met Mr. Johnson's cousin Fannie on Sunday morning at church. Mrs. Gar wood had come back on a visit from ■ Cincinnati, where she has lived during the past seven years, and naturally took the first opportunity to hear her dear old pastor preach again. "It's queer I didn't see you at the funeral," Aunt Lucy said, after the first gush of their greeting. "What funeral?'' "Why, your cousin Henry Johnson's Thursday afternoon." "1 don't understand what you mean. My cousin Henry Johnson died three years ago on the way to Japan and was burled at sea." For a moment Aunt Lucy looked In dignant, but upon reflection she said: "Well, it was a good funeral, and aa long as it happened as it did there's no use being put out, especially as IH never have a chance to go to the right one now, anyway." Perhaps. The Easter daffodils were the parlor floor .was petals. "Oh, mamma," exclaimed little Elsie, 1 "those flowers are Just the same color as our canarj bird, ain't they?" "Yes, dear." ' "Is that why they're molting 80 aw -1 fully?"— Philadelphia Press. . i In the Fashion. "Here's a new suit for you," said the deputy sheriff on the morning of the execution. "H'm!" grunted the condemned. "For once in my life I'll be dressed to kllL" t ■ —Philadelphia North American. -J A Heason For It. I Stranger—High steppers appear to very fashionable here? VI Horse Dealer—Yes. sir. No other I kind can get around New York, sir, fl without breaking their necks.—New 8 York Weekly. A Long Walt. "Why didn't Brlggs come to the znatV- 3 nee performance?' "He passed the afternoon In one these shoes-sold-whlle-you-walt r —"'-•■nlnp'l Plain Dealer. Got Left ItTilii "Jessie la outraged to be "The mtsehlef sßfe K>t T propose to that girl myself when I 5 time."—Chicago Reeord. "I understand it's all over "Yes. They're married."-^^^^^^H • phla North American. to the Place. Merchant—So you What kind of work can Applicant—l don't know, nntll assistant boxing school and"— Merchant (interrupting)— use right. Come^J^^^^H^^B those In miixlms^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H dance a group tel 1 they they after pause^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H was the this ger he bad Miss Mrs. have you 1 -1 jy® i i. it
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers