VOL. XXXXII. Great January Clearance Muslin and Linen Sale Now in Fall Progress and Continues all Week Till Saturday Evening, January 21st. THE MODERN STORE. NEW BARGAINS AODED DAILY Twenty percent, off on all Table Linens, Towels, Towellings, Bed Spreads. 1-4 off on Luce Curtains, Portieres. Table and Conch Covers 1-4 off on all Walking Skirts, Shirt Waists and Flannelette Night Gowns. 1-8 off on all Fnra. SI.OO Flannelette Dressing Sacques reduced to 44c. SI.OO Fleece-lined Wrappers, now 75c each. Bargains in Dress Goodf, Underwear and Hosiery. Lot of 85c and SI.OO Silks at 50c yard. Special bargains in Muslins, Sheetings, Pillow Cases, Flannelettes, Blankets and Comforters MILLINERY AT YOUR OWN PRICE COME EVERY DAY WITHOUT FAIL. EISLER-MARDORF COH PANY, SOOTH KAH STREET j g\f\4 'I "1 Send in Your Mail Orders. OPPOSITE HOTEL ARLINGTON BUTLER. PA. ~ BICKEL'S GREAT BARGAIN SALE. Ait immense stock of seasonable footwear to be closed ont in order to reduce our extremely large stock. Big Reductions in All Lines. Lidies' far trimmed felt slippers price, $1.25, rednced to W Ladies' warm lined shoes, price $1.50. reduced to 1 Ladies' warm lined shoes, price $1.25, reduced to «<> One lot Ladies' $8 50 fine hand-turn and hand-welt shoes reduced to A -ft One lot Ladies' $3.00 fine patent leather shoes, button or lace, reduced to.. - <K» One lot Ladies' $2 50 fine Dongola shoes reduced to 1 One lot Ladies' $1.50 fine Dongola shoes reduced to J JHJ One lot Child's Canvas Boots, price $1.50, reduced to 1 IM) One lot Children's fine shoes, sizes 4 to 8. reduced to |' j One lot Infants' fine shoes, sizes 0 to 4, reduced to - lw Men's fine shoes, box-calf, vici-kid and patent leather, regular price $8.50 and $4.00. reduced to a 50 Men's working shoes, regular price $1.50, reduced to 1 GO One lot Boys' fine satin calf shoes, regular price $1 50, reduced to. WO One lot Little Gents' fine satin calf shoes, regular price $1 00, reduced to, 70 Ladies' Lambs-wool insoles, regular price 25c, reduced to j*» Misses' and Children's lambs-wool insoles, regular price 20c, reduced t0.,. 1" All Felt Boots and Overs, Warm Lined Shoes and all Warm Lined and Felt Slippers, also balanoe of our stock of Leggins and Overgailers to be included in this GREAT BARGAIN SALE. Repairing Promptly Done. JOHN BICKEL, !28 S. Main St., BUTLER. PA. jj. Bargain Sale B i Furniture and Carpets ► Could you use an All-Wool Super Extra Ingrain Carpet < During January, regular price A - ASSr* * at any store 75c — /VI i/vC* < Saving of 10c per yard. Made up. | A Davenport Sofa Bed, regular a \ price SSO, for A Davenport, worth $35.00, ' A Five Piece Parlor Suit, regu- \ lar price $75, for > A Quartered Oak Polished Bed O GZ < Room Suit, worth $125.00 4/VO All Extension Tables will be sold for less than i regular cash price. No old stock in this store—and we have many elegant pieces you can buy now at a great sav- ' i ing to you. - y Come in and see the whole line. You are welcome to look it all over. i COME IN AND COMPARE. J BROWN &• CO. j No. 136 North Main St., Butler. p!j KECK g Merchant Tailor, jn] Fall and Winter Suitings C JUST ARRIVED. ( ] w 142 North Main St. ! KECK i • T I | Fall and Winter Millinery. I t f j Arrival of a large line of Street Hats, Tailor-made 2; ax and ready-to-wear Hats. All the new ideas and M ££ designs in Millinery Novelties. Trimmed and Un- 3; ; ; trimmed Hats for Ladies, Misses and Children. All 31 i • the' new things in Wings, Pom-pons; Feathers, 31 ; j Ostrich Goods, etc,'etc. 4: jj Rockenstein's | MilHrjery Emporium,! THE BUTLER CITIZEN. -%VA%VJ | DOLLAR | | Hat Sale j i Commences Satorday, Jan. 14th, m A and lasts two weeks. We are 4 i not going to take np space tell- X \ ing about these hats. J ost come J J in and see them. J # J | $1 50 to $3 | f Soft and Stiff Hats at i j SI OO \ i \ A 3IG CUT | \ in odd lots underwear, soft and ? r stiff shirts and neckwear. J bno. S.Wick, | € HATTEU AND FURNISHER, J # P?ople8 Phone, Q)5. # t BUTLER, PA. $ B. & B. muslinwear sale This Annual event has so far been the moat successful Muslinwear Sale we ever held. 61 styles Night Gowns, 50c to sl.so—others up to $22.50. 85 styles Petticoats, 50c to $5.00 —others up to $40.00. 82 styles Drawers, 25c to sl.so—others up to $10.5 Q. 20 styles Chemise, 25c to $l.O0 —others up to $8.50. 100 styles Corset Covers, 15c to $1.50 —others up to $8.50. Goods made of Cambric, Muslin and Nainsook, Boggs & Buhl ALLEGHENY. PA. c International r ? Stock Food, j / 3 feeds for one cent, S ) In 25c, 50c, 11,00 and fl.lO * v Packages ) \ Poultry Food. ? ✓ A 25c package contains 100 V \ feeds for 12 fowls F v In 25c, 50c, sl. fc).so Packages. / J And aU other International \ j Stock Food 0q : 8 remedies C C Sold by 7 5 Redick & Grohman < / 109 North Main St., > S Botler, Pa. i i^A^ywvvwyyA L. 9. McJUNiUN. JHA McJUNKIN GEO. A. MITCHELL. h. S. McJUNKIN & CO., Insurance & Real Estate 117 E- Jefferson St., SUTLEH, - - - - PA M. A, BERKIMER, Funeral Director. 245 S. MAIN ST., BUTLER, PA BUTLER, PA., THURSDAY, JANUARY 19, 1905. CATARRH r w/ Y°SK \ ELY'S CREAM BALM This Remedy is a Specific, Sure to Give Satisfaction. CIVES RELIEF AT ONCE. It cleanses, soothes, heals, ami protects the diseased membrane. It cures Catarrh and drives awnv a Cold iu the Head qaieklv. Restores the Senses cf Taste and SmelL Easy to nse. Contains no injurious drugs. Applied into the nostrils and absorbed. Large Siz-?, 50 cents at druggists or by mail; Trial Size, 10 emits by mail. ELY BROTHERS . V.'arrtn St., Now York. PROFESSIONAL CARDS. PHYSICIANS, JC. BOYLE, >l. D. • EYE, EAR, N'OSE and THROAT, SPECIALIST. 121 East Cunningham Street. Office Honrs 11 to 12 a in., 3 to 5 and 1 to 9 p. m. BOTH TELEPHONES. DR. JULIA E. FOSTER. OSTEOPATH Consultation and examination free. Office hours—9 to 12 A. M.. 2to M., daily except Sunday Evening appointment. Office—Stein Block, Rooms 9-10, But ler, Pa. People's Phone 478. liR U. J. NEEL\, I' Rooms 6 and 7, Hugbes Build'ng, South Main St. Chronic diseases of genito urinary organs and rectum treated by the m os approved methods. CLARA. E. MORROW. D 0., GRADUATE BOSTON COLLEGE OF OSTEOPATH v. Women's diseases a specialty. Con sultatian and examination free. Office Hours, 9 to 12 m., 2 to 3 p. m People's Phone 573. 1/6 S. Main street, Butler, Pa G.M. ZIMMERMAN • PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON At 327 N. Main St. R. HAZLETT, W. D., < 106 West Diamond, Dr. Graham's former office. Special attention to Eye, N'ose and Throat Peoole s Phcne 274. OAMUELM. BIPPUS, U PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON »oo West O" aniqgham St. DENTISTS. DR. FORD H. HAYES. PENTIST. Graduate of Dental Department, University of Pennsylvania. Office—3Js S. Main Street, Butler, Pa. DR. S. A. JOHNSTON, SURGEON DENTIST. Formerly of Butler, Has located opposite Lowry House, Main St., Butler, Pa. The finest work a specialty. Expert painless extractor of teeth by his new method, no medi cine used or jabbing a needle into the gums; also gas and ether used. Com munications by mail receive prompt at tention. OR J. WILBERT McKEE."" SURGEON DENTIST. Office over Leighner's Jewelry store, Butler, Pa Peoples Telephone 505. A specialty made of gold fillings, gold crown and bridge work. W J HttfDMAN, ' i t DENTIST. 12South Main street, (ov Metzer's shoe store.) f\R. H. A McCANDLHSS, 1 ' DENTIST. Office in Butler County National Bank Building, 2nd floor. DR. M. D. KOTTRABA, Successor to Dr. Johnson. DENTIST Office at No 114 E. Jeflersqu St., over G. W. Miller's grocery ATTORNEYS. RP. SCOTT, • ATTORNEY-AT-LAW, Office in Butler Couuty Natioral Bank building. AT. SCOTT, • ATTORNEY AT LAW. Office at No. 8. West Diamond St. But ler, Pa. COULTER & BAKER, ATTORNEYS AT LAW. Office in Butler County National Bank building. JOHN W. COULTER, ATTOANBY-AT-LAW. Office on Diamond, Butler, Pa. Special ittention given to collections and business matters. - JD McJUNKIN, • ATTOSNBY-AT-LAW. Office in Reiber building, cornei Main and E. Cunningham Sta. Entrance or Main street. JB. BKEDIN, • ATTORNEY AT LAW. Office on Main St. near Court Housf HH. GOU2HER, • ATTORNEY AT LA*". Office in Wi<?e EH. NEGLEY, • ATTORNEY AT LAW. Office In the Negley B'lilding, West Diamond WC. FINDLEI, • ATTORNEY-AT-LAW, AN'D PENSION ATTORNEY. Office on South side of remand, Butler, Pft. MISCELLANEOUS. n F. L. McQUISTION, V. CIVIL ENGINEER AND SURVEYOR Office near Court House I P. WALKER, Li> NOTARY PUBLIC, BUTI.BR, Office Berkm er - oexi door to P O BF. HILLIARD, • GENERAL SURVEYING. Mines and Land. County Surveyot. R. F D. 49, West Sunbnry. Pa. M. c. WAGNER ARTIST PHOTOGRAPHER 138 South Main tit §The Simple Life By CHARLES WAGNER Transited From tke French by Mary Louise Sendee Copyright. 1001. by McClure. Phillip, L, Co. CHAPTER VIII. THE MERCENARY SriRIT AXD SIMPLICITY. WE have in passing touched upon a certain widespread preju dice which attributes to mon ey a magic power. Having come so near enchanted ground, we will not retire in awe, but plant a (irm foot here, persuaded of many truths that should be spoken. They are not new, but how they are forgot ten! I see no possible way of doing with out money. The only thing that theo ries or legislators who accuse it of all our Ills have hitherto achieved has been to change its name or form. But they have never been able to dispense with a symbol representative of the commercial value of things. One might as well wish to do away with written language as to do away with money. Nevertheless this question of a circulating medium is very troublp- Eome. It forms one of the chief ele ments of complication In our life. The economic difficulties amid which we still flounder, social conventionalities find the entire organization of modern life have carried gold to a rank so pminent that It is not astonishing to flnd the imagination of man attribut ing to it a sort of royalty. And It Is on this side that we shall attack the problem. The term money has for appendage that of merchandise. If there were no merchandise there would be no money, but as long as there Is merchandise there will be money, little matter un der what form. The source of all the abuses which center around money lies in a lack of discrimination. People have confused under the term and idea of merchandise things which have no relation with one another. They have attempted to give a venal value to things which neither could have it nor ought to. The idea of purchase and sale has invaded ground where It may justly be considered an enemy and a \isurper. It is reasonable that wheat, potatoes, wine, fabrics, should be bought and sold, and it is perfectly natural that a man's labor procure him rights to life and that there be put into his hands something whose value represents them, but here already the analogy ceases to be complete. A man's labor is not merchandise in the same sense as a sack of flour or a ton of coal. Into this labor enter elements which cannot be valued In money. In short, there are things which can in nowise be bought—sleep, for instance, knowl edge of the future, talent. He who of fers them for sale must be considered a fool or an Impostor, and yet there are gentlemen who coin mone3' by such traffic. They sell what does not be long to them, and their dupes pay ficti tious vatues in veritable coin. So, too, there are dealers in pleasure, dealers in love, dealers in miracles, dealers in patriotism, and the title of merchant, so honorable when It represents a man selling that which Is In truth a com modity of trade, becomes the worst of stigmas when there is question of the heart, of religion, of country. Almost itII Uion ait; agreed that to barter with one's sentiments, his hon or, his cloth, his pen, or his note, is in famous. Unfortunately this idea, which suffers no contradiction as a theory and.which thus stated seems rather a commonplace than a high moral truth, fefis infinite troublo to make its way in practice. Traffic has Invaded the world. The money changers are established even In the sanctuary, and by sanctu ary I do not meaq religious things alone, but whatever mankind holds sa cred and inviolable. It is not gold that complicates, corrupts and debases life; It is our mercenary spirit. The mercenary spirit resolves every thing into a single question, How much is that going tQ bring me? and gums up everything iu a dingle axiom. With money you cau procure anything. Following these two principles of con duct, a society may descend to a de gree of infamy impossible to describe or to Imagine. How much is it going to bring me? Ibis question, so legitimate while it (oncerae thoso precautious which each ought to take to assure his subsist ence by bis labor, becomes pernicious as soon as It passes Us limits and dominates the whole life. This is so true that it vitiates even the toll which Bains our dally bread. I furnish paid labor; nothing could be better. But If to inspire me in this labor I have only the desire to get the pay nothing could be worse. A man whose only motive for action is his wages does a bad piece of work. What interests him Is not the doing, it's the gold, If be can retrench In pains without lessening his gains, be assured that he will do It. Plowman, mason, factory laborer, he who loves not his work puts into it neither Interest nor dignity—la, In abort, a bad workman. It Is not well to confide one's life to a doctor who is wholly engrossed In his fees, for the spring of his action Is the desire to garnish his purse with the contents of yours. If it is for his Interest that j-ou should suffer longer, he is capable of fostering your malady instead of fortifying your strength. The lnstruct of of children who cares for his work only so far as it brings hljn profit Is a sad teacher, for bis pay N Indifferent pnd his teaching uiorc Indifferent still. Qt what value is the mercenary Jour nalist? The day you write for the dol lar, your prose is not worth the dol lar you write for. The more elevated In kind Is the object of human labor, the more the mercenary spirit, if It be present, makes this labor void and corrupts it. There are a thousand reasons to say that all toll merits Its wag*, that ev pry mat| who devotes his energies to providing for his life should have his place In the sun and that he who does nothing useful—does not gain his live lihood, In short—is only a parasite. But there is no greater social error than to make gain the sole motive of action. The best we put into our work —be that work done by strength of muscle, warmth of ur ucncen tration gf pibid.-la precisely that for Which no one can pay us. Nothing bet ter proves that man is not n machine than this fact: Two men at work with the same forces and the same move ments produce totally different results. Where lies the cause of this phenom enon? In ilie divergence of their in tentions. One has the mercenary spir it, the other lias singleness of pur pose. Both receive their pay, but the labor of the one is barren; the other has put bis soul into his work. The work of the first Is like a grain of sand, out of which nothing comes through all eternity; the other's work Is like the living seed thrown into the ground. It germinates and brings fortli harvests. This is the secret which ex plains why so many people have failed while employing the very processes by which others succeed. Automatons do not reproduce their kind, and merce nary labor yields no fruit. Unquestionably we must bow before economic facts and recognize the diffi culties of living. From day to day it becomes more imperative to combine well one's forces in order to succeed In feeding, clothing, housing and bring ing up a family. He who does not rightly take account of these crying necessities, who makes no calculation, no provision for the future, is but a visionary or an Incompetent and runs the risk of sooner or later asking alms from those at whose parsimony he has sneered. And yet what would become of us if these cares absorbed us en tirely—lf. mere accountants, we should wish to measure our effort by the mon ey it brings, do nothing that does not end In a receipt, and consider as things worthless I *or pains lost whatever can pot be drawn up in figures on the pages of a ledger? Did our mothers look for pay in loving us and caring for us? What would become of filial piety if we asked it for loving and caring for our aged parents? What does it cost you to speak the truth? Misunderstandings, sometimes sufferings and persecutions. To de fend your country? Weariness, wounds and often death. To do good? An noyance, Ingratitude, even resentment. Self sacrifice enters into all the essen tial actions of humanity. I defy the closest calculators to maintain their position in the world without ever appealing to aught but their calcula tions. True, those who know how to make thelr' v pile" are rate<* as men of Ability, Put look a little closer. How much of it do they owe to the uuself lshncss of the simple hearted? Would they have succeeded had they met only shrewd men of their own sort, having for device, "Xo money, no serviced" Let us be outspoken, tt is duo to cer tain people who, do not eount too rigor ously that the world gets on. The most beautiful acts of service and the hardest tasks have generally little re muneration or none. Fortunately there are always men ready for unselfish deeds, and even for those paid only In suffering, though they cost gold, peace *nd even life. The part these men play Is often painful and discouraging. Who of us has not heard recitals of experiences wherein the narrator re gretted some past kindness he had done, some trouble be had taken, to have nothing but vexation In return? These confidences generally end thus; "It was folly to do the thing!" Some times it is right so to judge, for it la always a mistake to cast pearls before swine. But how many lives there are wtiose sole acts of real beauty are these very ones of which the doers repent because of men's ingratitude! Our wish for humanity Is that the number of these foolish deeds may go on Increasing. » And now I arrive at the credo of the mercenary spirit. It Is characterized by brevity. For the mercenary' man the law and the prophets are contain ed In this one axiom; "With money you can get anything." From a surface view of our social life nothing seems more evident. ''Thd sinews of war." "tVe shiniog mark," "the key that op»?na all doors," "king money" —if one gathered up all the sayings about the glory and power of gold he could make a litany longer than that which is <'lianted in honor of tho Virgin, You piust be Without n penny, if only for p day or two. and try to live In this world of ours, to have any idea of the needs of him whose purse is empty. I invite those who love contrasts and unforeseen situations to attempt to live without money three days (t'.Vl far from their friends aud acquaintances— in short, far from the society iu which they are somebody. They will gain more experience in forty-eight hours than in a year otherwise. Alas for some people! They have this experi ence thrust upon them, and when veri table ruin descends around their heads it is useless to remain in their own country, among the companions of their youth, their former colleagues, even those indebted to them. People affect to know them no longer, With what bitterness do they comment on the pr£cs of money! With gold one may have what he will; without it, im possible to have anything. They be come pariahs, lepers, whom every one shuns. Flies swarm round, cadavers, men round gold. Tflke away the gold, nobody Is therw. Oh, It has caused tears to flow, this creed of gain—bitter tears, tears of blood, even from those very eyes which once adored the gcjd en calf! And, with U all, this creed is quite false. I shall not advance to the attack with hackneyed tales of the rich man astray in a desert who can not get even a drop of water for his gold, or the decrepit millionaire who would give half he has to buy from a stalwart fellow without n cent his twenty years nnd his lusty health; no more shall I attempt to prove «u«s cannot buy So many peo ple who hctve money and so many more who have not would smile at this truth as the hardest ridden of saws. But I shall appeal to the common experience of each of you, to make you put your finger on the clvmsy lie hidden beneath an axiom that all the world goes about repeating. Fill your purse to the best of your means and let us set out foi> one of the watering places u# which there are sa many—l mean some little town for merly unknowu and full of simple folk, respectful and hospitable, among whom it was good to be, and cost little. Fame with her hundred trumpets has an nounced theiu to the world and shown them how they can profit from their situation, their climate, their person ality. You start out on the faith of Dame Rumor, flattering yourself that with your money you t\re going to find a quiet place to rest and, far from the world of civilization and convention, weave a bit of poetry into the warp of your days. The beginning Is good. Nature's set ting and some patriarchal costumes, slow to disappear, delight you. But as time passes the impression Is spoil ed. The reverse side of things begins to show. This which you thought was as true antique as family heirlooms Is naught but trickery to mystify the credulous. Everything is labeled; all is for sale, from the earth to the In habitants. These primitives have be come the most consummate of sharp ers. Given your money, they have re solved the problem of getting it with the least expense to themselves. On all sides are nets and traps, like spider webs, and the fly that this gentry lies snugly in wait for Is you. This is what twenty or thirty years of venali ty has done for a population once sim ple and honest, whose contact was grateful indeed to men worn by city life. Homemade bread has disappear ed, butter comes from the dealer, they know to an art how to skim milk and adulterate wine; they have all the vices of dwellers In ciUes without their vir tues. As you lea re you count your money. So much Is wanting that you make complaint. You are wrong. One never pays too dear for the conviction that there are things which money will not buy. You have need In your house of an Intelligent and competent servant. At tempt to find this rarn avis. According to the principle that with money one may get anything, you ought, as the position you offer is inferior, ordHary, good or exceptional, to find servants unskilled, average, excellent, superior. But all those who present themselves for tne vacant post are listed in the last category and are fortified with certificates to support their preten sions. It is true that nine times out of ten when put to the test these experts are found totally wanting. Then why did they engage themselves with you? They ought in truth to reply as does the cook in the comedy, who is dearly paid and proves to know nothing: Why did you hire out as a cordon bleu? It was to get bigger commissions. That Is the great affair. You will always find people who like to get big wages. More rarely you find capabil ity. And if you are looking for pro bity the difficulty increases. Mercena ries may be had for the asking; faith fulness ia another thing. Far be It from »»e to deny the existence of faithful servants, at once intelligent and up right. But you will encounter as many, if not more, among the ill paid AS among those most highly salaried. And it little matters where you find them, you may be sure that they are not faithful in their own Interest; thoy are faithful because they hove some what of that simplicity which renders us capable of self abnegation. We also hear on all sides the adage that money is the sinews of war. There Is no question but that war costs much money, and we know something about It Does this mean that In order to defend herself against her enemies and to honor her flag a country need only be rich? In olden time the Greeks took It upon themselves to teach the Persians the contrary, and this lesson Will never cease to be repeated in his tory. With money ships, cannon, Uorat» may be bought, but not so military genius, administrative wisdom, disci pline, enthusiasm. Put millions into the hands of your recruiters and charge them to bring you a great lead er and an army. You will find a hun dred captains Instead of one, and a thousand soldiers. But put them un der fire; you will have enough of your Ulroilngs! At least one might imagine that with money alone it Is possible to lighten misery. Ah, that, too, Is an Il lusion from which we must turn away. Money, be the sum great or tuuall, is a seed which germinates into abuses. Unless there (to with it intelligence, kindness, much knowledge of men, it will do nothing but harm, and we run great risk of corrupting both those who receive cur bounty aud those charged with Its distribution. Money will uot answer for every thing; It la a power, but It is not all powerful. Nothing complicates life, demoralizes man, perverts the normal course of society, like the development of venality. Wherever It reigns every body is dupod by everybody else; one can uo longer put trust In persons or things, no longer obtain anything of value. We would not be detractors of money, but this general law must be applied to it: Everytblna In Its own place. When gold, which should be a servant, becomes a tyrannical power, affronting morality, dignity and lib erty; when some exert themselves to obtain It at any price, offering for sale what is not merchandise, and others, possessing wealth, fancy that they can purchase what no one may buy, It Is time to rise against this gross and criminal superstition and cry aloud to the Imposture, "Thy money perish with thee.'" The most precious things that man possesses he has almost always received gratuitously. Lot him learn so to give them. [TO BE CONTINUED. 1 OUR TREASUr.c IN KEATS. Hia Poetry of Throe Dtmc usiona- Height. Urvuilth and Solidity. Xi\ vending Keats one" is auuck with Ihe wealth of his equipment, the soi;J of his art, his soaring imagi nation, his rare sense of beauty, his range of emotional respoust'. his rich resources of language, und, not the least uoWwovthy, his capability of growth iu taste. To consider what a poet thus endowed might have given to the world bad he lived to the age of Shakespeare or Milton excites the mind almost to puin, so little short of Hlii'acl* was his actual achievement. Wo believe there is no evidence that he wrote a line of verse after hia twen ty-liftb year, and he probably wrote little after his twenty-fourth, and yet what a glorious body of life and inspi ration he has left! It is poetry of three dimensions—height, breadth and solid ity. And yet, withal, it has arrowlike intensity—a quality of which he him self said, "The excellence of every art 1$ ita Intensity, capable of making all disagreeables evaporate from their be ing in close relationship with truth and beauty." His transcriptions of the classic into modern speech in "Hyperion" and "La mia," the wonderful music and color of "The Eve of St Agnes," the deft and eerie handling of ballad themes In "La Belle Damo sans Merci" and "Isa bella; or. The Pot of Basil," the over sowing dreaminess of midsummer In the "Ode to a Nightingale." the depth and lyric directness of such lines as "In a Drear Nlghted December," and a whole anthology of noble sonnets in terpreting life and nature—these are but a moiety of the overflowing stream of his passionate Imaginings, for in him the intellectual and the emotional were kindly mixed. In the face of such a record of good work the faults Of his earlier manner are not worth consideration.—Century. Klae Above Your Trouble*. No matter what cares, anxieties or sorrows may vex or sadden you, do not prove yourself a weakling by going down before them, but show yourself noble In rising above tliem and mold ing them to life's purpose. Bather bear an insult than give one; rather dry a tear than cause one to be shed. How tnany celebrities we would have if j men would be as atix.ous to make their , own fame as they are to unmake the j fauie of others^ t : 111111111111111 j STINSON'S | I! DIPLOMACY | I Bj Curran 1 Richaid Greenlay • Coprii«hi. 1904. br Cm RjrWJ Cmiry T Tlie real boss of the campaign com mittee leaned across the table aud wagged a heavy forefinger under Brackett's nose. •I've cinched the finest wire that was ever pulled, and when them wire get done pullin' Bill Garret's chances are dead and rained on or my name's not Jim Stinson. I've interviewed Miss Elizabeth Heath, and she's ours." The emphatic finger stopped as Bracken sprang to his feet "You—you interviewed Miss Heath in my favor?" "Yes. Why not? She's a power, she Is, with them fellows' wives down in the Tenth ward, en she's a lady right, you bet." Brackett dropped limply into the chair behind him, while Stinson poured out the history of his call upon Miss Heath, the president of the Hypatia, in a mixture of slang plentifully sprin kled with "sez I" and "see she." Stin son took much glory to himself that he should have thought of this clever stroke just at the critical point of the campaign. Miss Heath's influence in certain quarters was unbounded. Down in the Tenth ward, where the tall ten ements gloom above the river, the iittle children of the poor watched for her coming, and the tire*} mothers told her all their trials and troubles, all their simple ambitions and little Joys, find ing a ready sympathy. Stinson had beard of Miss Heath through that channel, and it was to those poor, tired mothers that he looked for a control ling voice in the vote that would go up from the Tenth ward. Stinson had also counted on the lever wielded by Miss Heath as president of the Hypa tia, the woman's club that led not only in the city, but in the state feder ation. The federation's Interests once aroused and its influence brought to bear would mean a powerful leavening at work for his man from one end of the state to the other. All this and more be poured into the unheeding ear of Brackett, whose mind was engrossed with the one thought, the intolerable shame that this man should have ap pealed to Elizabeth Heath in his name. Beyond all considerations of the gov ernor's office, of his political future, his mind reeled with the intensity of this one thought. Stinson's last words as he stood In the doorway recalled him: "I told her tHat you would call In a few days and discuss the matter fur ther. She seemed right willing to take a hand after she had chewed the rag a bit, and I saw as how a call from you would sorter clinch it. Women folks has to be made up to. I reckon you know all about that? Well, so long, Mr. Governor," and Stinson was gone. John Brackett turned off the light and sat still in the glow of the fire. The warm rays danced over his fast silvering head, bringing out the lines of the tired, old-young face and ac centuating In grotesque shadow the droop of his shoulders. "Her name on the lips of this coarse man! Out of the silence of the years to hear it for the first time In this man ner!" He had been away so long In the lower part of the state that he had quite lost sight of the changes that Qiust have come to her as well as to himself. So she was a social leader now, a club woman. He remembered the pleasant family circle as he bad known it and wondered if it yet re mained unbroken. Out of the coals sprang the picture of the girl, Eliza beth Heath, as he had last seen her, that night when he had told her good by forever. He could almost hear him self speaking the slow, fateful, reluct ant words, In which he had told her that the bond between them must be broken for reasons over which he had no control—a half confidence that, In the light of present knowledge, he knew to have been far more cruel, more cowardly, than a silence that would have left her the poor solace of believing him utterly unworthy. He had scarcely thought of her when returning to the old town. He had made the n]pve for political reasons, and one hotel Is much like another to a man who had forgotten.the meaning of home. Like one groping through the dark, picking up the tangled thread of a dropped web, John Brack ett threaded back through the maze 9 of fifteen years— fifteen! • *••••• Brackett's tread grew less resolute, and his feet seemed to drag Just a lit tle as he turned into the well remem bered square and saw the white col umns of the Heath home among tbe trees. Old Peter opened tbe door. A little grayer about the fringe of wool, a little more stooped, but the same old Peter, shuffling down the hall ahead of him. The house was painfully familiar. There in the corner was the little set tee among the palms where they had sat that rainy day. He remembered the shadows that shifted over the pale blue gown that she had worn and felt again the touch of tbe soft hand in his —the hands that were like no other hands in all tbe world. Old Peter's shuffling steps had died away and the house was stilled. Then he heard lier step upon the stair and flown the hall, and Elizabeth stood be fore him, unchanged, except for the graver lines about the firm, sweet tnouth and a deeper light in the dark eyes. Brackett grasped her hand with an almost painful force. "You have been quite a long while claiming your old friends in Warn 6eld, Mr. Brackett." It was a merely banal greeting, but the commonplace served to place Brac kett on the right footing. "Most certainly, and yet I feel that I should apologize for this Intrusion, had I not come to make apology for a greater one that was made in my name." "You aliude to Mr. Stinson's call?" she laughed lightly. "Mr. Stinson does me the honor to consider me a force in the political situation. I assure you I appreciate the compliment, as the president of the Hypatia. But as Elizabeth Heath, I must beg to decline It" Brackett made a slight movement toward her. "I beg you to consider the man and his total Ignorance as to the enormity of what he was doing. It was a distinct shock to me to hear your name upon his lips, and" — "I understand." she replied quickly. "Believe me, I did not connect you with it in the least. In fact, when he meutioned that you would call to dis cuss the matter I was very certain that you were entirely innocent of all knowledge of his errand her*." Brackett flushed darkly. "I trust you will treat this incident aa if It had never happened, and of No. 9 course there need be no question of your support in a political sense." Here they both laughed uneasily. "So much so," she responded, "that I will use every effort to further the cause of Governor Brackett" Brackett sprang to his feet, his dark face aglow. "Elizabeth!" Miss Heath held up a warning hand. "Mr. Brackett, fifteen years have come and gone since any man has held the right to call me by that name. We were speaking of politics." Brackett submitted mutely as she led the talk around to other questions of tbe day lightly and easily, giving him time to find himself In the talk of old friends and places. "And the general, how la he and your mother?" She looked at him wonderlngly. "Is it possible that with all of Mr. Stin son's information be did not tell you that I am living here alone with only Aunt Jane? Father and mother died within one month of each other ten years ago." Brackett turned abruptly and walked to the window. He understood many things now, all tbe loneliness and the beautiful truth of this woman, who had lived her life so bravely. The sun light in the square waft blinding. Per haps that was why his eyes were wet as he walked swiftly down the long room and drew her hands into his. "Elizabeth, there was fate In Stin son's call, the fate, that has watched us both through all these years. There were ghoßts that knocked and waked my starved heart last night ghosts that would not be silenced. I was a coward then, a coward not brave enough to humble my pride and tell you of the burden that lay between us, and when death removed that burden It was too late, I thought but I am here now to plead my case afresh, here at your mercy. We are older now, and there is little youth left us, and for God's sake don't let pride stand be tween us and that little. Will the pres ident of the Hypatia work for me ns my promised wife? Will she, Eliza beth?" Old Peter shuffled down the hall un noticed and stood in the doorway a brief second, then he ambled away, mopping bis eyes. "I thought that was Massa Johu Brackett. I's certain now for suah!" A Mild Retake. Figaro tells a story of Eugene Spul ler, who was minister of public instruc tion under the presidency of Casimir- Perier, which brings out his kindness of heart. When the doorkeeper brought him his letters one morning Spuller said to him: "Were you not supposed to be on duty at 11:30 last night?" "Yes, sir." "And you were not there?" "That is correct," replied the door keeper, fairly trembling as he saw his dismissal at hand. "But I have a sick mother, your excellency. I wished to risit her." "That is quite proper," rejoined M. Spuller, "and I hope that your mother will soon recover. But if she should continue to be ill, which heaven for fend, I would like to ask you one fa vor"— Here the doorkeeper stared with wide open mouth. "If you go to visit your mother once more," added the minister calmly and quietly, "please have the kindness not to lock me In my office again. I had to spend the night at this desk because I could not get out" Ahoat Certain Words. There is often a hint of somethlns approaching to an ancient kind of slang in various dignified words in the Eng lish language. So respectable a term as "perspicuity," for instance, means that a thing can be "seen through" easily. The word "apocalypse" means "lifting off the cover," or, in other words, the revelation of whatever good or bad things may be concealed in a chest of secrets like Pandora's box pos sibly, or maybe only in the lunch basket of some old Greek workingman. "Impediment" coming from a Latin word meaning to catch or hold the feet, vividly expresses the nature of anything that entangles or hinders one in the performance of any action. Still, to speak of an impediment In one's speech is in a certain way to get one's foot in one's mouth. "Conspiracy" comes from a Latin word meaning to breathe together. The picture it gives of a group of plotters with their heads thrust up in a com pact bunch Is vivid enough to render enjoyable the sarcasm of the old Bo man who invented the term.—Chicago News. The Camel aa a Soldier. The camel is a good soldier, says a London writer. It may be stupidity, and it may be bravery, but a camel is as steady under fire as a tower. The Persians mounted small cannon on the backs of their camels and called them Bambwalls, or "little wasps." This fashion was adopted in India, and aft er the battle of Sobraon 2,000 of these artillery camels were captured. In the Indian mutiny the British had a cam el corps of 150 beasts, and on tbe back of each camel sat a Scotch highlander In bis kilt. In 1845 Sir Charles Napier had a camel corps In Sindh, and in one day he marched seventy-five miles, defeated a brigand chief and marched home again. In 1878 the British used camels against the Afghans, and tho government paid for 60,000 camels that died In those campaigns. Many of these were driven to death by their owners iu order that they might claim the government bounty. Honiter Beda. Though the beds of the royal per sonages of England were elaborately carved and hung with rich curtains even so late as the Tudor period, It is recorded that King Henry VIII.'s bed contained only Btraw beneath all its finery. A curious order exists as to precautions to be taken against the possibility of intended mischief to tho royal person in Jhe making of the bed, for the usher was to search the straw through with a dagger, "that there be none untruth therein, and to tumble over on the down bed for tbe better search thereof." The bed of Henry VIII. was nearly eleven feet square, and of even more generous dimensions is the great bed to which Shakespeare refers in a well known passage in "Twelfth Night," which was twelve feet square. This "great bed of Ware" has been a marvel for centuries. He Sent Another. A few years ago a well known law yer remitted in settlement of an ac count to the publisher of a paper a two dollar bill, which was returned with the brief statement: "This note is counterfeit; please send another." Two mouths passed before heuring from the lawyer again, when he apolo gized for the delay, saying: "I have been unable until now to find another counterfeit two dollar bill, but hope the one now inclosed will suit, professing at the same time my inability to discover what the objec tion was to the other, which I thought m food a counterfeit as I ever saw."
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers