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."