VOL XXXIX
|The Greatest Everij
S Men's and Ladies' Shoes that will help us )
/ to make new friends and hold our old ones.
f Don't take our word for it, see the shoes. v
Day, May 17th,>
/ Daubei"[speck Turnerj
) ONE PRICE CASH SHOE STORE, \
? Xext Door to Savings Bar\l"£., (
I BUTLER, PA. *
+xxx&xx xxx x xxxxxxv
I chances The Modern Store Bargains jR
(F LACE CURTAIN SPECIALS—LoveIy patterns and a choice variety in Not-
U tiDghau»9 aud Swiss Rnfflas. We have put prices on tbem to show you M
that this store has all the facilities to make low prices. Come in and see
jg them iu broad day-litiht. as we have aa excellent place to show them. •
We want yon to scrutinize the goods aud then note prices: 43c, 63c,
g? 75c. 98c, $1 19 *1 43, $1 69, #1 87, $3 25 and np Curtain Draperies and
JTj Swiss Nets. • One lot Hambnrg Embroideries in beautiful new
retcul.-r price 15c, now 9c. Swiss Embroideries, fonr and five in. wide; 0
S regular price 18c and 20c, now 121 c. White Aprons for 10c, worth double -X
(QL the price. You can't buy the goods for the money, let alone make them. M
Pillow Cases and Sheets. We cau save you money on these. Good
muslin, bleached pillow ewe*. <>6x42 in-.hes at Bc, 86x45 inches at '.'c. rj
u Madenp unbleached Sheets. 81x90 inches. 43c. and same siza bleached, a
m 49c. You must see them to appreciate tho prices. fji
S MILLINERY ATTRACTINQ ATTENTION.—"If your hat is from The Modern
•? Store, it's al! right " Expressions like these are significant straws. They
U f how that our millinery has distinctive features But the way our busi- Uk
Bess is pro* in? in this department clinches the argument. Our range of T)
pricts will allow you to make a choice, and we'll please yon with the «
* qnality. We are showing a special line of charmiDg bats at f4 98, s<> J8
Qk and fi! 48 P
g Co., 5
S SOUTH MAD! STRUT ) AA4 o j Si
m mns 0 //| Mail Orders Solicited g
« POSTOrFICE BOX ) (F
M OPPOSITE HOTEL ARLINGTON. BUTLER, PA. $
Zxxxx XXX XXX xxx xxxxxx*
rsassassssßssssssßaasa
Pf HUSELTON'S footwear fcl
f# The La I est Styles « A The early Summer
kl aud Nobbiest style of Men's Shoes J «
WA designs yet shown shown here now are kl
[f in this City. "birds." W1
W A All 11 A man feels like v
[M ready buying them anyway M
k l for whether he needs
y1 Ton. or not.
J No—Not Ur\ly Ladies! J
1 We have low Shoes for Patent Leather Bluchers {
« MEN, Patent Kid Bluchers >
A BOYS and Patent Calf Lace. (
m GIRLS as well. The slickest lot of j
By yjjr/S BABIES too! Shoes in forty States. A
i Take Your Choice! » OMI WiftfS'M
[J Patent Leather Oxfords >J
Li Patent Kid Bluchers WA
WA Vlci Kid Colonials Take Your Choice
Ll Velour Calf Sembrich Ties WA
rj Wax Calf Oxford Button LV
M Welt Soles or Turn Soles ™J %"««£• W
W A 75C t0 $3.00. but it is the only place
to buy the newest and smartest styles. WJ
W2 We get more style and more wear into our shoes at a given
f M price than any one else you know of.
Heavy Shoes for Farmers and Mechanics made to stand a lot of V A
Jt mauling and scraping, tut GOOD LOOKERS and plenty of toe
[ 1 Huselton's. [J
F { The most satisfactory
k Shoe Store in Butler. WA
m Ak Ak rfti li J
NEW WASH FABRICS. $
A great collection of dainty, attractive and stylish goods for
Waists and Snits. The styles ana coloring are prettier than ever and 0
the fabrics more varied.- Qi
Fine Ginghams 10c and 12ic, Best 86 inch Percale 12Jc, (R
Embroidered Chambray Madras 20c, Swiss Silk 20c, Mercerized Silk U
Zephyr 25c, Mercerized Pongee 25c, Fancy Lace Stripes 25c, Fine
Madras Stripes 80c, Ok
WHITE GOOGS~Many. styles in fine Mercerized White C
Goods and fine Madras for Waists. Dimities, India Linons and Sheer ip
white materials of all kinds are here in abundance.
Fine Mercerized Fabrics 25c, 30c, 40c and 50c. JV
Fine Madras 20c and 25c. O?
India Linons 6£C to 50c. A
LACE CURTAINS W
t/r By all odds the greatest assortment and best W
\ values we have ever shown Lace Curtains at 50c
'/■ ' to *lO 00 pair. Greatest assortment at sl, $2 and fcj.
JPjjt MUSLIN UNDERWEAR
Why bother with making when you can buy the
f j finished garment at the cost of materials. U
lKTi\ I Gowns 50c, 75c, $1 (X) and #1 50
{L Corset Covers 25c,=-50c, 75c and #1 00
\ Drawers 25c, 50c, 75c and |1 00 JO
Skirts 50c, 75c, $l v 00 aud up. g
We sell the New Idea 10c Paper Patterns. t/
Monthly fashion sheets free. i t j
L. Stein & Son,|
108 N MAIN STREET. BUTLER, PA. S
■
KECK
. 4 I /l Have a nattiness about them that Jjj
' /•! k fwA /1 |\ mark the wearer, it won't do to
I'/ (% K \JR-J !J CA wear the last year's output. You
/ r A-Ty v JQ won't get the latest things at the
, stock clothiers either. The up-tt>
, 3 [/ W r\ date tailor only can supply them,
IT YV 't rrji I if you want not only the latest ( ,
. | II V li If I things in cut and fit and work
\ If 111 11 I nunsbip, the finest in durability,
i I //If 1 where else can you get combina-
Y ) I HI (I V tions, you get them at
KECK
G. F. KECK, Merchant Tailor,
142 North Main Street All Work Guaranteed Butler,Pa
THE BUTLER CITIZEN.
Svcx,
BJL * short roads. \
j AXLE
I JL light loads.
IfiREASE
| for everything
that runs on wheels.
Sold Everywhere,
y Made by STANDARD OIL CO. I
Nasal
CATARRH
cleanses, soothea and heals SQ" m
the diseased membrane. jO^.,•*'*, !
It corescataiTh and drives Tk.
away a cold in the head
quickly.
Cream Balm is placed into the nostrils, spreads
over the membrane and is absorbed. Relief is im
mediate and a care follows. It is not drying—does
not prodnce sneezing. Large Size, 50 centa at Drug
gists or by mail; Trial Size, 10 cents.
| IJ I
Johnston's M
p Beef. Iron and Wine
M " the FA
V A Pest Tonic |s>'
kj and i
Bleed Purifier. >
Price, 50c pint. 4
V Prepared aud K
91 sold only at ®
\ Johnston's tfj
M Crystal
Pharmacy, H
R. M. LOGAN, Ph. G , .
® Manager, j» i
WA ICS N. Main St., Itutlnr, Pa k e
V 'S Hoth'Pho«es A
pi Everything in the
drug line. FA
Eyes Examined Free!
The above cut is the latest
electrical instrument which I use
in the testing and examination of
the eye, all errors of refraction ac
curately corrected.
Satisfaction guaranteed.
CARL. H. LEIGHNER,
Jeweler and Graduate Optician,
209 S. Main Street, BUTLER, PA.
Goehring & Keck
For No. 1 Building-Blocks,
Brick,
Lime,
Cement,
Plaster,
All kinds of Mill-Feed,
Seeds,
No. 1 Seed Oats,
Chilled Plows and
Fine Groceries
Go to
The Extension Feed Store,
Near the P. & W. Station,
Zelienople,
Goehring & Keck.
Eugene Morrison
GENERAL CONTRACTING
PAINTER and DECORATOR.
Special attention given to
FINE PAPER HANGING,
GRAINING and
HARDWOOD FINISHING.
Office and Shop,
Rear of Ralston's Store,
Residence No 119 Cliff St.
' People's Phone 451."
Q» ' i t H K
By HOWARD FIELDING g
•* * n f§
Copyright, 1901, by Charles W. Hooke.
Ov. J »i-c <•; ; jvC. iC >i O
CHAPTER XVII.
TUB RUNAWAY.
'C*. KEN DA sat down by
7;§i 'he bed, and she look
f(\ <";■»! Ed very beautiful, a clr
-1 ;">j eumstance upon which
£ ' a "«!■ Elsie did not fail to
ft T| comment with great
satisfaction.
W- ~> "You will be very
happy." she said: And then she heaved
a little s'i.-.h, presumably for hers«!f.
"My'd'-ar child," replied Brenda, "this
Is altogether too sudden and Incom
pr> hensible to suit a conventional per
m«.i like myself. This weird flirtation
of the madhouse which Dr. Kendall
and 1 seem to have begun in a manner
shamelessly public may he only the
temporary aberration of our minds and
have nothing to do with our hearts. I
hope it will strike In; I do most de
voutly. Then you and Clarence could
arrange your agreeable romance with
out remorse"—
"That is ended," said Elsie. "In fact,
it never began. Brenda. you opened
your heart to me; let me open mine to
you I want some one in the world,
some one whom I care for, to know
the whole truth."
"Are you sure you really wish to
trust me with this confidence?" asked
Brenda earnestly. "You do not really
know me. Your mother may soon be
with you."
"I would never tell my mother," said
Elsie sadly "She has had trouble
enough. As for trusting you. knowing
you—why. It seems to me that we have
been here together since the dawn of
recorded history and you were my
friend the first minute. I'm afraid you
may not care to be after you have
hoard the story, but I don't want to
hold you l>y false pretenses. So hear
me, Brenda."
"It will not excite you? It will not
make you ili again?"
"It would excite and worry nie If I
fhould stop now after I have made up
my mind." said Elsie. "Listen. You
shall know everything but a name. I
can't tell you that."
Brenda was silent. She was saying
to herself: "I am afraid. My heart is
trembling for this girl."
"It doesn't matter when. It doesn't
matter where," continued Elsie, "but
when and where fate pleased I met a
man who took a great liking to me. I
know little now. and 1 knew far less
then, though It wasn't so long ago.
He was an educated man, and I was
not an educated girl, but I wished that
V was. We met in a merry party, and
I expected him to talk frivolity. He
didn't. His conversation was very Im
proving. Oh. he took a deep interest
in ray mind.
"What idiots glrl9 are! Why, this
man read me like a book. He saw that
I was full of yellow covered ambitions
and ten cent aspirations. He had prob
ably seen a creat many girls equally
deservltiK of encouragement. I thought
he was splendid. I put my band in his
■nd prepared to ascend the hill of
learning.
"It was a supper after the theater,
and we rode to my house together in
a hansom afterward at 2 o'clock In the
morning, and the chaperon of our
supper party rode In another direction
in another hansom with another man.
My escort talked about the 'Rubaiyat'
of Omar Khayyam, and I then first
appreciated the beauties of that sub
lime composition. Afterward he spoke
of my work in a very earnest aud en
couraging way. He let me know that
ho had been quite a student of the
drama and that his criticism and ad
vice would be of tho greatest assist
ance. That, at least, was the infer
ence. Finally he bade me good night
on the doorsteps, with a gentle saefness
In his manner which let me know that
there was a romance in his life. That
made mo feel safe, for at that time I
surely did not want him to fall In love
with me, and I still retained the delu
sion of my earlier years that romances
In a person's life acted like vaccina
tion.
"The gentleman called upon me the
next afternoon, and he was very enter
taining as well as Instructive. He
brought me a large book. I forget
what it was about The next day he
took me out to dinner, and I remember
that he gave me some very shrewd and
helpful criticism about my work.
Then I didn't see him for two whole
days, and I began to miss him very
much. At that time I was lonely. My
girl friends In the profession were all
out of town, and some of the men In
the company who wished to be kind
to me were rough In their ways—not
at all like the cultured gentleman
whose acquaintance I had been so
fortunate as to make."
"But didn't you ask about him?" said
Breuda. "Didn't you flnd out how he
stood socially?"
Elsie laughed.
"How was I to find out any of those
things?" she said. "The world Is a big
place, In the midst of which Is society
as you know it, a little mutual Insur
ance company for the purpose of pro
tecting Its members, especially the
younger ones, against accidents. I only
knew that I liked this man and that he
seemed to be a true friend to me. What
other guide was I to have except my
own beautiful Ignorance?"
"I don't know," said Brenda aloud,
but to herself she was saying: "The
more wrong she has suffered the more
I want to help her. I won't let any
thing take her away from me."
"Presently I heard the story of the
romance In his life," continued Elsie.
"It appeared that the gentleman was
married—most unhappily. Where was
his wife? He had permitted her to ob
tain a divorce. This was pure generos
ity on his part. He would rather suf
fer an injustice than attack In the
courts the woman he had sworn to love
and cherish. He mentioned several
high society precedents for this con
duct. In fact, he convinced me that*
divorce was, upon the whole, a mark
of distinction In these days. It ap
peared that his was a sort of limited |
divorce which did not permit him to j
remarry, bflt after this aspect of It j
had been presented to me on soveral j
occasions he discovered that he could \
marry under certain conditions with
the full sanction of the law and heav
en.
"Well, Brenda, let'a be fair. I want
ed to marry the man. I persuaded my
self that I was in love with him. I j
wasn't. 1 can see that now. I wasn't
within a million miles of loving him, i
but 1 was ready to be loved, Breuda; i
that's the truth about It Mf heart
BUTLER. PA., THURSDAY, MAY 8, 1002
was full of tenderness, and I saw the
whole world rose tinted In the light of
the dawn of love. That's poetical. But
wait a minute. I am coming to-souie
thing very uuromuntic. I wrote this
story. Brenda wrote It all down for a
great heart thrilling novel—and then
had sense enough to burn it. But that
helps uie to tell It straight, and you'll
catch fine phrases uow and then, but
you won't laugh at me.
"Well, we were engaged, of course.
My fiance presented me with a dla
mond ring, and diamonds are my soul's
delight. After I got this one I used to
keep a little light burning In my room
at night fo that I might see It sparkle
If I happened to be wakeful. I sub
sequently learned that there was a
financial Irregularity involved In the
obtaining of the glittering gem, but I
did not learn that until after It had
passeil out of my possession."
"Where did fate find this precious
rascal?" whispered Brenda. "And why
did fate send him to you?"
"Why did fate send a good man after
ward?" said Elsie. "Why Dot before?
Well, 'the moving fiuger writes and.
having writ, moves on'— It was to be.
Finally the gentleman announced that
a marriage under the laws of the state
of Pennsylvania would meet the re
quirements of t lie situation. I was a
good deal startled by this definite sug
gestion. and I wrote to my mother on
the subject for the first time. The gen
tleman took the letter to post, and it
has not been delivered yet, thank beaT
en!
"Before It was time to get an answer
sudden business of great Importance
called my (lance to Philadelphia. How
opportune! Well, Brenda, I packed a
little hnnd bag and went. What must
you think of me?"
Brenda bent down gently and kissed
Elsie's hand and held It against her
face.
"1 don't know the story yet," she said,
"but you have portrayed a thorough
scoundrel. And you have also shown
me a trusting and true hearted girl who
went to be married with an Innocent
heart. Blessed heaven! Think of a
man for whom a young and pure girl
will go out Into the world like that, ns
if to walk in the fields! Should not ev
ery fiber of his soul be thrilled to loyal
ty for all Ills life?"
"The gentleman In question had no
soul," said Elsie. "I think he will be
spared all punishment hereafter, as the
brutes are. Let us proceed, Brenda,
dear. The remainder of the story Is
not long. We *ook the 11 o'clock train
and reached Philadelphia In time for
luncheon. Our marriage was to be
kept secret for awhile, and there seem
ed to be some slight objection to the
public dining room of the hotel where
our hansom set us down. However,
we lunched there quite hastily, for I
had no appetite. Then we re-entered
the hansom and went to look for a min
ister. We had remarkable difficulty in
finding one, considering that Philadel
phia Is a large city full of churches, but
We finally succeeded. Then It appeared
that we had neglected to comply with
certain formnlltles, but the clergyman
was able to rectify the matter, and so
we were married pitifully, as I see It
now, with stupid old servants and a
chance laborer who happened to be nt
work in the house as our witnesses.
"When we got back to the hotel, It
was 0 o'clock, and I was nearly fam
ished. We hurried right Into the din
ing room, and my husband ordered ft
great spread, with champagne, for our
miserable celebration, and now I will
tell you the unromantlc part In the
midst of that dinner, and while I fan
cied that I was eating with a splendid
appetite, I was suddenly seized with
the most awful xjain that ever devas
tated my poor little stomach. Yes,
Brenda, It was a regular, terrible
stomach ache —Just pain, without a bit
of nausea. I felt as if some one had
my stomach in his hand—a hand about
the size of Captain Neale's—and was
crushing it to pieces.
"My husband said he guessed it
would soon pass away, but It didn't,
and so he left ills dinner and fan out
to a drug store to get me something to
take. When he camo back, 1 took It,
and I didn't feel any worse, because
that wasn't possible, but I certainly
felt no better. In a few minutes I be
gan to realize that 1 was going out of
my wits. I talked insanely and saw
things that weren't there. The next
thing I knew we were riding up in an
elevator, and It seemed to go up for a
week. Then there was a woman lead
ing me along a hall and Into n room,
and she began to take off my clothes in
the bedroom of a little suit. I stared
at her and asked her who she was.
" 'l'm the assistant housekeeper,' she
said. 'I belong to the hotel.'
"As if she had been a piece of furni
ture. Then I asked where my hus
band was, and she said he had gone
out for n doctor. So she made me lie
down. Probably I seemed to be there
on that bed. but In reality—my own
reality—l was playing In that old barn
storming company and studying,
■tudylng, studying on long parts that
were always changing, but sometimes
I was a little girl again In a town way
out in Michigan, running through the
streets, with my long legs flying and
my heels touching the back of my
head, as my mother used to say. I
stole the neighbors' flowers In the
scented June evenings and staid out
under the little whispering stars till
my mother came, weeping with anx
iety, to bring me home. And, strange
ly enough, right In the midst of it all
there stood the doctor, a tail, gaunt
young man, asking me how I felt.
But where was my husband?
" 'He has not got back,' said the wo
man. 'I was afraid to wait any lon
ger, so I got tills gentleman, who is a
New York doctor stopping In the
hotel.'
"Then 1 felt something sharp prick
ing my arm and afterward the pain
was easier, and my mind suddenly be
came as clear as It Is now. I heard
-the doctor say that I would be all
right when I had had some sleep, and
then my husband appeared, looking in
between the curtains that hung by the
bedroom door. It seems that he had
not brought a doctor, but had left
word for one to come.
"My husband remained there, be
tween the curtains, perfectly rigid,
staring, pale as a ghost. He was look
ing at the doctor beside my bed, and
glancing up I saw that the doctor was
staring at him.
" 'You!' said the doctor, and he took
three strides out of the room, my hus
band backing away as the other ad
vanced.
"They whispered together; they
thought I could not hear. But, Brenda.
I would hare heard them If they had
been In New York.
" 'She says you were married this
afternoon,' said the doctor. 'How Is
thatr
" 'Who In the devil's name called you
In?' demanded my husband. 'Where
did you come from?'
" 'This Is state prison business.'
said the doctor, without minding the
Questions. 'You are living legally
separated from your wife, but you are
not divorced, and you never will be by
your own consent, for her father is
paying you to behave yourself.'
" 'There has been uo marriage here."
said my husband. 'Don't say any
ihing. This is a mere freak of mine.
I'll make it with you if you'll
keep quiet.'
" 'You lie,' said the doctor, and then,
'Am 1 too late to save her?'
"My husband answered' Yes.' Brenda,
how Is it possible for a being
to utter a falsehood like that? 1 was
no more to him than you are except
that I had promised ltefore (lod to be
his wife. And the doctor looked him
in the eyes a moment and then struck
him across the face with tlie back of
his open hand and went out of -the
room.
"My husband catne to the curtains
and looked in: then he approached the
bed. and I groaned as loud as I could.
At .La; he s« euicd to lose his wits. lie
ran around the room aimlessly and at
snatched his hat from the floor
and rushed out. I suppose be was go
ing for another doctor.
"When be was gone. 1 Invented an
errand and sent the woman away. Then
I got up and dressed. I don't know
how it was possible for me to do It,
but I seemed to be as light as a feath
er. 1 got out of the hotel easily enough
and took a cab to the railroad station.
I had not money enough for a sleeper,
to I rode in a day coach all the way to
New York, but my mind was in a
thousand places, and some of them
were beautiful, and I was hajipy there,
and again I was in terror and pain.
"When 1 left the train at Jersey City,
my head was bursting upon my shoul
ders and the air was fire. Honestly,
Brenda. when the ferryboat ran into
the slip on this side, 1 thought it was
the mouth of the infernal regious. It
looked like n great cave full of flames
and It seemed that I was being crushed
and thrust into it. Yet I must have
had some part of my senses, for I
found a cab and gave the driver my
address. And so 1 came home from
my wedding Journey, Brenda. I let
myself In with my key. and the people
in the house never knew that I had
been away that night. They found
me ill and got a doctor for me. and be
fore the day was over I was nearly
well. The doctor said 1 must have eat
en some sort of a thing—what do they
call it—l always think of tomatoes."
'Ttomaines." said Brenda. "Oh, you
poor child; you poor, wretched, lucky
little Elsie! I am so glad, so glad!"
"Would you believe," said Elsie,
"that that man tried to get my heart
back again, to plead his cause with me?
Well, he did, and, though I had peace
for quite a long time, of late I have
been much annoyed by him. You can
understand now why Clarence Alden's
love waC torture to me, why well,
why I bought the picture of Tantalus
to look at, Brenda. Oh, I love him, I
love him so much! The feast of the
heart that I can never have! He is
everything I want, Brenda."
"But why in the name of all martyr
dom should you hesitate to tell this sto
ry to him?" exclaimed Brenda. "What
bar can it be to your marriage?"
"One day," said Elsie slowly, "when
I was beginning to love Clarence so
that my henrt sang of him all the time,
I was walking on Broadway aud had
stopped to look iu at a Jeweler's win
dow. And 1 glanced up, and Clarence
was coming down the street with that
doctor!"
"The one who attended you in Phil
adelphia?"
"Yes," said Elsie. "They were laugh
ing and talking together, and I shrank
into a doorway and died of shame as
they passed. Suppose they had seen
me?"
"I think no harm would have come of
it," said Brenda.
"Suppose I married Clarence and we
should meet him then?"
"But my dear," exclaimed Brenda,
"take the wildest possible supposition.
Say that this doctor believed the worst
and told It to Clarence and lived to
finish the story, which unless he is
Samson reincarnated Is not possible. It
would make no difference. Unless Clar
ence can believe you absolutely against
every other voice in the world, you
don't want to marry him anyway."
"You don't know men," said Elsie,
shaking her head. "One little doubt,
and there Is misery for a lifetime. I
heard Clarence speak once of a woman
who had gone wrong. It frightened my
bones uutil tliey turned to dust in my
body."
"But, Elsie, you haven't done any
wrong," pleaded Brenda. "You were
cruelly deceived"—
"I no more than the others," replied
Elsie. "Every woman who goes wrong
Is deceived, or there would be no wrong.
The point Is, Brenda, that that is not
the way to g»t married. No really good
girl ever does such a thing. I should
have had my mother and my friends to
see me make my vow. Tlint Is the only
right way; your way, Breuda, the way
of your world. And, besides, I haven't
told you all. lam really his wife."
"WbA»~do you mean?"
"His wife from whom he was sepa
rated was nbroad at the time," said
Elsie. "She died two days before my
marriage. That's why 1 called him
my husband all the way through the
story."
Brenda was speechless for some sec
onds before the spectacle of this fatal
ity.
"I don't see that that makes It any
worse," she said at last "Better, I
should say. Such a marriage cau be
easily annulled. It does not even re
quire a divorce."
"It requires legal proceedings," said
Elsie. ,"It means publicity ami brand-
Ing It means that Clarence Alden's
wife will be marked as a woman with
a past with a romantic scandal attach
ed to her name. It would be bad
enough, Bn-mla, for him to marry ine
anyway, but an actress, with that
6tory fastened to her! Well, you know
what ai! the world would say. No; I
would rather die. I would rather he
should never know. I'd lit* to him,
Brenda. If necessary— I have lied to
him. as you at".' av.-.ire rather than he
should think me 11..- s.ut of girl who.
on a hasty :t--<j. ■;:i«»:>iwith a man
about whom r.l " kuo'.. s uoihing. would
run away to a *>:. . , . in.-ting to
luck to be married i. ■ ..."
Breuda kissed Elsie's hand again
very tenderly.
"I'll tell you what, my dear." said
she; "the fact is tin' you have brooded
ov» r r tils matter until y ,i are not quite
sane about It. I really mran what 1
say. Now. this Is my advice to you:
Tell M,\. len li:;s story Just a* soon
as you're ; :rong en-.'!gli to do it and"—
E'-sif grippe 1 her hand hard.
"1 h.". .e told you this in confidence,"
sh. said. "Give ine your solemn word
that you will never breathe one sylla
bi.* of it; that you will help nie in er
ery way to conceal It! Premise!"
"The word and honor of oae who
loves you. Elsie," Brenda answered.
"Whatever you wish 1 will do."
"You are so good to ine!" said Elsie,
letting her head sink back Into the pil
lows.
"There Is one thing more," said Bren
da. "Did he, your husband, strike this
blow?"
"Don't ask me that." cried Elsie. "I
can never tell you how I got this
wound. Think what a frightful bur
den that knowledge would be to you If
I should die."
CHAPTER XVITI.
BFEXDA OFFERS A BRIBE AND A CAUTION.
looked In rt St
Winifred's about 6
o'clock,as was his cus
torn before going to
it Y\| dinner. He bad al-
Al ways left word where
he should dine and
V- ■*) tint] never gone far
froiu the hospital.
' On this occasion he met Mr. Elmen
durf at the head of the stairs by which
one ascends from the street level with
in the structure. The most unobserv
ant rt ml preoccupied person could not
have fail-.'d to note that Elmendorf wns
possessed by tiu unusual excitement.
A Men's greeting was simply. "What's
the matter?" and tlie words were spo
ken In great anxiety.
"Nothing—nothing at all," replied El
mendoTT. "Miss Miller Is better than
"TTe'U begin with A."
ever. She onght to be dead after what
she's been through, but she isn't. She's
fine, I assure you."
"What has 6he been through?" de
manded Alden, and the detective be
came singula rl3'embarrassed. lie would
say nothing except that Elsie bad bad
a hard day.
"But I've struck a little clew in the
case." he continued, brightening. "It
looks to me like a sure thing. But don't
ask what It Is Just yet. All I want Is
the names of all the doctors you know
In New York."
"All the doctors 1 know!" echoed Al
den In surprise. "Isn't that rather a
large order? How am I going to re
member them all?"
"We shan't need absolutely all," said
the detective. "You can skip the old
ones and the fat ones anil tho short
ones. In fact, I want a tail, thin, gaunt
man. and If you could remember walk
ing down Broadway with him awhilo
ago, perhaps two months" —
Allien laugheil gently.
"I say, Brother Elmendorf," said he,
"you're rattled, aren't you?"
"Perhaps I am," the detective admit
ted. "This new clew absolutely stands
my case on Its bead. It seems to prove
squarely nnd fairly that everything I
hail figured on was not only wrong; It
was upside down. However, let us not
be hasty. Let us think about the doc
tors. I'll take a list of them."
And he produced pencil and paper
for that purpose.
"Now," said he, "we'll begin with
A."
"Tall, thin, young doctor, whose
name begins with 'A?*" said Alden.
"I dou't know any; but, passing to B,
there's Blair."
Elmendorf leaned back against the
wall and put the pencil and paper Into
his pockets.
"Do you mean to tell mo that you
knew Dr. A. G. Blair before this case
came up?" he asked In a sort of hope
less tone almost laughable.
"Why, certainly," replied Alden. "I'd
met him."
"You showed no sign of It over at
Mrs. Simmons'," said Elmendorf.
"Didn't I? Well, the Lord knows
what I did there. Blair certainly bow
ed to me."
"1 was watching you," said Elmen
dorf. "However, this simplifies mat
ters. You didn't know Blair well?"
"Not Intimately. I'd met him several
times, and," he added, with a smile,
"I may have walked down Broadway
with hit'; but I don't remember."
"It's only a small matter," said the
detective, with a resumption of his
usual demeanor. "I want to ask Blair
a question; that's all."
"I'll go over with you," said Alden.
"Walt till I have seen Kendall."
He walked toward the doctor's room
and at the first turn of the hall encoun
tered Brenda.
"You were going to see Dr. Kendall?"
she asked. "Please wait In bis room."
Sne hurried by him and reached the
spot where Alden aud the detective had
stood Just as the latter was upon the
stairs, f«r It had not suited Elmendorfa
purpose to wait for Alden.
"1 must speak with y#u privately at
once," she said. "Come."
There was a sort of bay window open
ing from one of the corridors, aud she
led Elmendorf there. They were par
tially shielded from observation and
could speak In guarded tones without
much risk of being overheard.
"Mr. Elmendorf," she sa«l, "how
could you do this thing? 1 have n seri
ous wish to know."
"1 can do anything," he answered,
the picture of shame and woe. "There's
absolutely no good In me. What made
you think there was?"
"Do you remember that you rose
when you saw that 1 was not seated,"
said she. "In Elsie's room that first ter
rible day? That's not much, but your
manner was fully that of a gentleman."
"I was trained In a gentleman's home
In Massachusetts." salil Elmendorf. "So
was the gentleman's dog, and we both
remained brutes."
"You arranged a place to listen," said
Brenda, "In that unused room next El
sie's. The nurse who helped you hus
confessed U> Dr. Kendall. It was she
anil not you who overheard the story
tolil this afternoon."
"She and not 1?" echoed Elmendorf
In a voice of the dead. "Do you think
1 ever listened there? Miss Maclaue,
there's some limit even to what I will
do. No. no; I took the chance; that's
all. This nurse, whom I seeui*> have
got Into a lot of trouble, ns 1 always
get everybody sooner or later—this
nurse listened when her duties would
let ber. 1 knew Miss Miller would
some day tell her story to you."
"Now that you have heard the story,
what shall you do?" asked Brenda.
"It seems evident," replied Elmen
dorf. "that Dr. Blair Is the physician
referred to In that story. He has
known her secret from the beginning.
| That was why she bad him bore, to
: plead with him. Well, I've no faith In
Blair. He's crooked, or I'm no Judge.
But he seems to have played a fairly
creditable part toward Elsie Miller."
"Dr. Blalrt" exclaimed Brenda.
"Think of his being called to dress her
i wound'. Think of his standing there
! In that room with Nesle and ourselves
and keeping his own counsel so quiet
ly.' 1 begin to have an admiration for
him."
"Well. I wouldn't go so far as that,"
said Elmendorf. "He has bad bis self
ish ends to serve. However, that is
neither here nor there now. I am
going to him and 1 shall make blm tell
me who that man is."
"Her husband?"
"Yes."
"Then what will you do?" she
added.
"Kind him," said Elmendorf, "and
see that he gets what he deserves.
This will sfford me many different
kinds of satisfaction. Miss Maclane.
1 shall have credit for It in the news
papers, and they're the only friends
I've got. My Job will be safe for an
other year at leaat; 1 shall beat Joe
Xcale. whom 1 bate devoutly, and,
lastly. 1 shall get square with the cow
ard who struck down that little girl.
1 have longed for him ever since I
first saw her. It's a poor thing to do
for her, bnt It's all 1 ever can do, I'm
afraid."
"It Is uo service to her," said Brenda;
"far from it You will reveal her
»ecret."
"Nothing can save that," he replied.
"It Is a mere dream to think It can be
flone."
"It is not a dream," rejoined Brenda
"It shall be kept a secret If possible.
She is wise to wish it though of
course she should tell Mr. Alden, and
that she will do as soon as her mind
gets back to Its proper balance after
Its long strain with his wretched story.
But she Is right In thinking that pub
lication of It will leave a stain upon
her and perhaps bring many sorrows
to herself and Mr. Alden. It will be
distorted and redistorted In the telling
until the poor girl's name can never
be clear of It And in any case I have
given my word. Mr. Elmendorf, will
money help?"
Elmendorf was silent
"I think you are not a man to take a
bribe," she began.
"Yes, I am," said Elmendorf de
cisively. "but not Just here. If the cir
cumstances were different why, 1
could be bought and sold like my as
sociates. But this Un't the time nor
the place."
"You would like to get out of this
life Into a better one," said Brenda
"1 suppose most of ns would," re
plied Elmendorf, "except that dying Is
illsagreeable."
Brenda laughed, as one sometimes
will at a funeral, from the effect of
contrast.
"1 didn't mean that" she said. "I
meant that you would like another
way of earning your bread. And 1
(blnk you might have very high ambi
tions In another career. My father
will put you In the way of profitable
business, but don't fancy 1 would
tempt you with an empty promise. 1
am rich In my own right by Inheritance
from my mother, and I will be glad to
help you. We will give this a color of
perfectly honorable dealing, and It
shall be so Indeed. Take $50,000 of
my money and select whatever busi
ness pleases you, and I will be a silent
partner, an equal partner, in the en
terprise."
"Fifty thousand dollars," said El
mendorf, with awe In his tones. "Why,
Miss Maclane. this Is what 1 have
prayed for. The Idea of a tenth of It
Is the explanation of my going on the
force. And to think that It should
come at last In a way that 1 can't touch
Itl 'Billy Elmendorfs luck,' as the boys
say."
At this moment Kendall, passing
through the corridor hastily, glanced
In toward the window.
"Brenda! Come!" he said. "The
nm-se you left there has sent for me."
ftrenda turned as white as paper.
"ft Is I who let her talk and excite
herself!" she said huskily. "I may
have killed her."
She turned and seised Elmendorfi
arm.
"One thing more," she said almost In
s whisper. "Remember my promise
and also remember this—that Elsie has
not said It was her husband who struck
the blow. Do not make an error now
for your own sake and for—for ail ol
us."
[TO BX coirrnruzß.]
A HUMAN FOREST.
How Indian Trlbeamen Succeed tm
Escaping the Poltee.
Some of the Indian tribes over which
we rule give us a great deal of trouble,
notably the Mahsuds. The Mahsuds,
however, are not by any means the
worst of the Indian robber tribes, the
unenviable distinction probably falling
to the Bhlls, who are the cleverest
scoundrels In the world, both in .heir
methods of acquiring other people's
property and In evading pursuit
They are very proud of their skill In
pilfering and openly boast of it One
of them once told a British officer that
he could steal the blanket from under
him and was promptly challenged to
show his ability. That night when the
officer was fast asleep the Bhll robber
cut a hole in his tent crept noiselessly
in and gently tickled the hands and
feet of the sleeping man. The officer
stirred uneasily and turned over. In
this way the Bhll was able to pull the
blanket out a little way. By repeating
his j>erformance he finally succeeded
In "coaxing" the blanket completely
from under the sleeper.
When engaged in his nefarious little
games, the Bhll wears hardly any
clothing, and his lithe body Is rubbed
with oil to facilitate escape from any
would be captors. When hotly pursued
by the British troops, the robbers make
use of a very clever device. They con
ceal their scant clothing under their
small round shields and scatter them
about to resemble stones or bowlders;
then, picking up a few twigs—if there
are any to be had—they assume all
sorts of grotesque attitudes, their al
most flcshless limbs silhouetted against
the diirk night sky closely resembling
the charred limbs of a tree. Absolute
ly motionless, they hold their positions
till the enemy has passed them.
In this way a British subaltern In
charge of a party sent to capture some
Bhils was considerably startled one
evening. The pursuit had completely
lost sight of the robbers, and finally
the party drew rein by a clump of
gnarled and bent tree trunks, tired and
hot from their hard exertlona The of
ficer in charge took off his hat and
placed It on the end of a broken limb,
when Instantly there was a wild scream
of laughter, and the tree trunks sud
denly came to life and vanlabed in the
darkness.—bund on Express.
No 19
AN ITEM IN SPRAYING.
Pure Parla Green and lla»l« Teat*
For Alallertaii.
While much has been written and
mid on the subject of spraying, ther*
are some details necessary to the suc
cess of the operation that may well
bear further exposition. The Illinois
station has treated of these small tech
nicalities in a recent bulletin, which
Includes some clear and practical talk
on paris (trwo, as follows:
Perhaps the simplest test to deter
mine whether a green has boen exten
sfo-sfaw
p.*/: ~ ».7
HIGH AND LOW GRADE PARIS OREKN AS
BEEF UNDER THE HICBOSCOPB.
slvely adulterated is the color test.
Pure paris green has a bright greed
color a shade or two lighter than em
erald. Any samples which have a dull
or a pale, washed out appearance
should at once be discarded without
further question. 9y placing a small
quantity In, say, a homeopathic vial
and tapping the latter gently on the
bottom or side adulterants can be made
to separate from the green and can
then be seen as white streaks or patch
es against the glass sides of the visl.
The pure green remains bright green
against the glass.
In connection with the color test Pro
fessor Woodworth of the California
station has devised the following sim
ple test, which can be made by any
one and which will show immediately
if the sample Is worthy of any further
consideration: Place upon a clean glass
plate a small quantity of green—what
one can easily pick up on the point of
a penknife. Tilt the plate at a slight
angle and gently tap the edge Just
enough to cause the green to flow
down, leaving a streak across the plate.
If the green is of good quality, the
streak will be a bright, light emerald
green; If adulterated, a whitish or a
sickly dull green. Any samples which
exhibit the latter are either adulter
ated or of low grade and as snch are
not worthy of further consideration.
Another very simple way to show the
presence of adulterants is the ammo
nia test. Pure paris green is wholly
soluble in ammonia, while some of its
common adulterants are not Therefore
if after dissolving a small quantity In
ammonia any residue remains undis
solved the sample has been adulter
ated and should be discarded. Unfortu
nately this test does not show the
presence of any free or uncomblned
arsenlous oxide, which, although it has
not been considered strictly an adul
terant on the ground of its poisoning
qualities, Is nevertheless objectionable
on account of Its injurious action on
the foliage.
One of the quickest and surest
means of determining the presence of
any adulterant or objectionable ingre
dient is the compound microscope.
Placed under an objective of medium
\J..i t^W
BOGUS PARIS GREEN AS SKXH U7CDJEB THB
HI CBOSCOPB,
power, say one-quarter inch, paris
green is seen to consist wholly of clean
green spheres, and in a pure sampl*
this is all that can be seen.
The upper figure of the first cut is the
reproduction of a photomicrograph of a
high grade sample. A low grade green
will have something of the appearance
shown in the lower figure. In addition
to the clean green balls a number of
crystals arc seen which are almost
wholly those of free arsenlous oxide
put in to make up the strength of a low
grade article. When the arsenic is
added in the process of manufacture or
results from careless manipulation. It
is more difficult to detect it. In that
case It is usually found sticking to the
green bnlls themselves, giving them an
irregular outline and causing them OD
the whole to aggregate Into masses.
lTml>rclla Ineonalatenclea.
"There's something remarkable about
this umbrella," said Jawlelgh, exhibit
ing the antique handle.
"I suppose," remarked his friend,
"you refer to the fact that while your
name is John Anderson Jawleigh the
monogram is P. L. T. ? Nothing pecul
iar about that at all, sir."—Baltimore
News.
Declining.
The Friend—ls the editor enjoying
good health?
The Poet (sadly)—No; from what I've
seen of him he has been declining for
the last five years.—Philadelphia Rec
ord.
Pretty Slow.
When a girl pins n flower on a man's
coat, she always tilts her chin up and
looks at It sideways, and the man who
doesn't tumble Is slow enough to get
run over by n liearse.
The specter of unpaid bills never
bauuts those who buy only what they
cau afford.
The greatest of all pleasure® is to
give pleasure to one we love.