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