VOL. XXXXII. THE MODERN STORE- Blir Spring Muslin Underwear Sale begins Wednesday, February Ist and con tinue* until Saturday evening, February 11th. An Immense assortment of the Famous Queen Undermnsllns; made of the best materials, trimmed and finished In the most desirable fashion, at Special Low Prices for this sale. A 4- ' CORSET COVERS. /\l_ *) CHILDREN'S DRAWERS. A U. 4g\ _ ( LADIES' CORSET COVERS. At I Uf* LADIES' DRAWERS, /ml. 1 ( CHILDREN'S SKIRTS. a j f LADIES' CORSET COVERS. At 29C " ™ORT E SKiRTS. A I CHILDREN'S GOWNS. a . _ _ ( LADIES 7 GmVN> Af* 39C CORSET COVERS. 1 » v w ( DRAWERS. . " ( LADIES' GOWNS. 49C i CORSET COVERS A " ( " DRAWERS. At 59c. «9c. Wc. «se. $1.19 and SI.4H Beautifully Trimmed Gowns, Skirts, Corset Covers and Drawers, etc , worth 33 per cent more than our special prices. EISLER-MARDORF con PAN Y, SOUTH KAH STWEET j AAJ JSr'mcS" 0 ' I"■ Send in Your Mail Orders. OPPOSITE HOTEL ARLINGTON BUTLER. PA. 1 Reduced Prices H J Carpets and Furniture. H J Why Not Get Some of the sargains T4 4 We are Offering Now. f2 2 Any 75c all-wogl carpet, made at 65. Li ► 10 per cent discount on cash price pf ?py Lfl vj 9x12 Rug in stock. yj F Any Couch in stock at 10, 2Q and 25 per W k cent off regular cash price. < vj Any Parlor Suit or Parlor Piece at greatly > # reduced prices, J \ Any Extension Table in stock for less than < F regular cash price. > W Any thing this store has in stock for less { i than lowest cash price to make room for * J gprjng gpod§. J > We will pay the freight any place on earth. < < >. ; COME IN AND COMPARE, | j BROWN &• CO. | No. 136 North Main St., Butler. GREAT'BARGAIN SALE. An immense stock of seasonable footwear to be cjoseg. out in ojr<|er to reduce our extremely large stocfe;. Big Reductions in All Lines. Ladies' fat trimmed felt slippers price, $1.30, reduced to $ 75 Liadiea' warm lined shoes, price tl 50. reduced to 1 OO Ladies' wartb lined shoes, price $1.33, reduced to One lot Ladies' $8 SO fine hand-turn and hand-welt shoes reduced to 2 25 One lot Ladies' SB.OO fine patent leather shoe?, button or lace, reduced to.. 200 One lot Ladies' $3 50 fine Dongola shoes reduced to 1 One lot Ladies'sl.9o fine Dongola shoes reduced to 1 OO One lot Child's Canvas Boots, price $1.50, reduced to 1 OO One lot Children's fine shoes, sizes 4 to 8, reduced to -45 One lot Infanta' fine shoes, sizes 0 to 4, reduced to H> Men's fine shoes, box-calf, vici-kid and patent leather, regular price $3.50 and $4.00, reduced to 2 50 Men's working shoes, regular price $1.50, reduced to 1 OO One lot Boys' fine satin calf shoes, regular price $1 50, reduced to One lot Little Gents' fine satin caif shoes, regular price $1 00, reduced to. 70 Ladies' Lambs-wool insoles, regular price 35c, reduced to 15 Misses' and Children's lambs-wool insoles, regular price 30c, reduced t0... lO All Felt Boots and Overs, Warm Lined Shoes and all Warm Lined and Felt Slippers, also balance of our stock of Leggins and Overgaiters to be included in this GREAT BARGAIN SALE. Repairing Promptly Done. JOHN BICKEL, 128 S. Main St., BUTLER. PA. KECK g Merchant Tailor. ]H] Fall and Winter Suitings n JUST ARRIVED. w 142 North Main St. vy KECK Li : _JLI I Fall and Winter Millinery. | i } »?« Arrival of a large line of Street Hats, Tailor-made 5; and ready-to-wear Hats. All the new ideas and 31 II designs in Millinery Novelties. Trimmed and Un- 31 j ♦ trimmed Hats for Ladies, Misses and Children. All 3; 1; the new things in Wings, Pom-pons; Feathers, 31 i Ostrich Goods, etc.Jetc. 4: || Rockensteln's I ® Mi 11 i Fviii jaori u rrj, % M * Bo ° ,hM * lt,3tr ~ 1 , • ■ • • ■ Bntler, P ,_ ® ifj ill ill n; ill ii: ii; ii: m j, q„i,| THE BUTLER CITIZEN. j DOfebAß I I Hat Sale I j Commences Saturday, .Tan. 14ih. # J and lasts two weeks. We are a i not going take np space tell- X J ing abont those hate. ,Tnst couit) i J in and see them. J # J | $1 50 to $3 j J Soft and Stiff Hats at J | SIOO | | A SIG CUT | f in odd lota underwear, soft and \ V stiff shirts and neckwear. J ijJno.S.Wickj !i j HATTER AND FURNISHER, J |l Peoples Phone. 015. # jl BUTLER, PA. $ ? r ( Stock Food. S / 3 feeds for one cent. j .) In 25c, 50c, SI.OO and 50 . m Pftdttgvß ' J S International { \ Poultry Food. / f A «55c package contains IfK) \ , feeds for 13 f v |n 35c 30c? sl. fj.§o Papkagea, 7 / And ail other International \ j Stock Food Co's remedies f \ Sold by 7 fßedick & Grohmaiu ? IQ9 Hortfi lan St, 7 \ Bntler, Pa. i Do You Buy Medicines? Certainly You Do. Then you want the best for the least money. That is our motto. Come and see us when in need of anything in the Drug Line and we are sure you will call again. We carry a full line of Drugs, Chemicals, Toilet Articles, etc. Purvis' Pharmacy 8. G. PURVIS, PH. G Both Phones. 218 8 Maicßt. Butler Pa. Vinol The Great Tonic and] Flesh Builder. The best remedy for throat and lung trouble. We have the exclusive agency for this remedy. Ask for a calendar. THE Crystal Pharmacy R. M. LOGAN, Ph. G., BOTH PHONES. 106 N. Main St., Butler, Pa. L. S. McJCNKTN. IKA McJUNKIN" GEO. A. MITCHELL, b. S. /WcJUNKIN & CO., Insurance & Reql Estqte 117 E* Jeoeraon St. SUTbER, PA HI A B^RKIMER. r* iruneral Director. 2*5 S. MAIN ST-, SUTLER, PA BUTLER, PA., THURSDAY, JANUARY 20, 1905. Nasal CATARRH cleaiues, eoothes and hesia m the diseased membrane. It cures catarrh and drives M. V away a cold in the head m qnickly. •■■■■■■■■ Cream Balm is placed into the nostrils, spreads over the membrane and is absorbed. Belief is im mediate and a cure follows. It is not drying—does not produce sneezing. Large Size, 60 cents at Drug gists or by mail; Trial Size, 70 cents. ELY BROTHERS. 60 Warren Street. New York PROFESSIONAL CARUS. PHYSICIANS, T C. BOYLE, M. D. »J • EYK, EAR, NOSH and THROAT, SPECIALIST. 121 East Cunningham Street. Office Honrs. 11 to 12 a. in.. U to 5 and 7 to 9 p. rii. BOTH TELEPHONES. DR. JL'LIA E FOSTER, OSTEOPATH Consultation and examination free. Office hours—'J to 12 A M., 2to M., daily except Sunday. Evening appointment. Office—Stein Block. Rooms 9-10, But ler, Pa. People's Phone 478. DR. H. J. NEEL\, Rooms 6 and 7, Hughes Build'ng, South Main St. Chronic diseases of genito urinary organs and rectum treated by the mos approved methods. CLARA E. MORROW, D 0., GRADUATE BOSVON COLLEGE OF OSTEOPATHY. Women's diseases a specialty. Con sultatian and examination free. Office Hours, gto ia m., 2 to 3 p m People's Phone 573. 1/6 S. Main street, P.utle;, Pa GM. ZIMMERMAN • PHYSICIAN AND SCRT.KO.N At 327 N. Main St. LR HAZLETT, M. D., iofc Wfesl Diamond, Dr. Graham's former of^ce. Special attention give*, to Eye, v ose and Throat Peoole's Phone 274. UAMUELM. BIPPUS, KJ PHYSICIAN AND aqo West O auii»gb«i:r. St. DENTISTS. DR. FORD H. HAYES. DENTIST Graduate of Dental department, University of Pennsylvania Office—2ls 8. Maiu Street, Butler, Pa DR. S. A. JOHNSTON SURGEON DENTIST. Formerly of Butler, Has located opposite Lowry House, Main St., Butler,' The finest work a specialty, fexpert 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. [)5 J. WIXBWTWK~EE, I' SURGEON DENTIST. Office over Leighner's Jewelry store, Butler, Pa Peoples Teir one 505. A specialty made • f go),] fillings, gold crown anil bridge wt>rk. VkT J. HINDMAK 12; I South street, (ov Mctier'a shoo store.) P)R. H. A. MINDLESS, . R, J DENTI9T. Office in Butler t,_> un ty National Bank Building, 2nd floor. T\R. y. p. ~ U Success to Dr Johnston. DENTISj Office at No 114 *l. eflerson St., over G. W. Miller's grocery ATTORNI^s, RP. SCOTT, , ATTORNEV-AT LA W Office in Butler Oou*y National Bank building. ' AT. SCOTT, ~ • ATTORNEY AT Office at No. 8. West Diam<^Fy t ler. Pa. COULTER & BAKER, ATTORNEYS AT '.** Office in Butler County National Bank bnilding. JOHN W. COULTER, A TTORNEY-AT-1 W Office on Diamond, Butler, Pa Special attention given to and business matters. I D McJUNKIN, FJ I ATTORNEY-AT-LA\ Office in Reiber building, corne,, • and E. Cunningham Sts, Entrap Main street. JB. BKEDIN, • ATTORNEY AT LAW. ' Office on Main St. near Court Il< HH. GOU2HER, • ATTORNEY AT Office In Wise building. EH. NEGLRY, • ATTORNEY AT LAW. Office in the Weglcy Building. Wesj Diamond WC. FINDLEY, • ATTORNEY-AT"LA\y, ANU PENSION ATTORNEY. Office on Houth side of Diamond Bntler, Pa. MISCELLANEOUS. !"< F, L. MCQUISTION, V. Civil, ENGINHKR AND SuRVF"or." Office near Court Hous*- - T P. *-*> NOTARY PUBLIC, BUTLER, Office with Berkmer, next door Jo P O BP. BILLIARD, General Subvev^Nß. Mines and Land (Jonnty Surveyor. It. F D. 49, Wost Sanbury, Pa. M C. *RTTST PHOTOGRAPHER 138 Sootb Maiji ELtr M4V j. v. BTUABT MAY & STUART Livery, Pe^' aß( isaie Stables Best Accommodation" in town For Transient Cu.stom. Phones: People's 125; Bell .*><». Rear of Bickel s Mian St. Butler, Pa Advertise ID The Citizen. The Simple Life 0 J By CHARLES WAGNER Translated From Ike French by Mary Louise Hende* fT~T: Copyright. 1901. by McClure. Phillips fc. Co. CHAPTER IX. NOTORIETY AND THE INGLORIOUS GOOD. ; ONE of the chief puerilities of our time Is the love of adver tisement. To emerge from obscurity, to l>e in the public eye, to make oneself talked of—some people are so consumed with this desire that we are justified in declaring theui attacked with an itch for publicity. In their eyes obscurity Is the height of ig- j noniiuy, so they do their best to keep their names in every mouth. In their , obscure position they look upon them selves as lost, like shipwrecked sailors whom n night of tempest has cast on some lonely rock and who have re course to cries, volleys, fire, all the sig nals Imaginable, to let It be known that they are there. Not content with set ting off crackers and innocent rockets, many, to make themselves heard at any cost, have gone to the length of perfidy and even crime. The incendi ary Erostratus has made numerous dis ciples. How many men of today have become notorious for having destroyed something of mark, pulled down—or tried to pull down—some man's high reputation; signaled their passage. In short, by a scandal, a meanness or an atrocity! This rage for notoriety does not surge through cracked brains alone or only In the world of adventurers, charla tans and pretenders generally. It has spread abroad In all tho domains of life, spiritual and material. Politics,' literature, even science, and, most odi ous of all. philanthropy and religion are infected. Trumpets announce a good deed done, and souls must be saved with din and cJanior, Pursuing Its of destruction, the rage for noise has entered places ordinarily si lent, troubled spirits naturally serene and vitiated in large measure all actlv- • ity for good. The abuse of showing 1 everything, or, rather, putting every- j thing on exhibition, (he growing Inca- j uuclty to appreciate that which chooses j to remain hidden and the habit of esti- i mating the value of things by the rack- j et they make have come to corrupt the judgment of the most earnest men, and one sometimes wonders if society will not end by transforming Itself Into a great fair, with each one beating his drum In front of his tent. Gladly do we quit the dust and din of like exhibitions to go and breathe peacefully in some faroff nook of tho woods, nil surpriso tlia| thw brook Is so the forest so still, the solitude »o enchanting. Thank Ood there are yet those unlnvaded corners! How ever formidable the uproar, however deafening the babel of merry andrews, !t cannot carry beyond a certain limit. It grows faint and dies away. The realm of silence !s vaster thai) the realm of noise. Harbin jy yqr consola tion West u moment on the threshold of this Infinite world of inglorious good, of quiet activities. Instantly we are under the charm we feel in stretches of untrodden snow. In hiding wood flowers, in disappearing path yiiiy# vhaf teem to lead to without bouro. The wxxiid \4 tou uiude that the engines of labor, the most active agencies, are everywhere concealed. Nature affects a Rort of coquetry In masking her op erations. It costs you pains to spy her out, ingenuity to surprise her, if you would see anything but results and penetrate the secrets of her laborato ries. Likewise in human society the forces which move for pood remain In visible, and even lu our Individual lives; what Is best In us Is Incom municable, buried In the depths of us. And the more vital are these sensibil ities and intuitions, confounding them selves with the very source of our be ing, the less ostentatious they are. They think themselves profaned by ex posure to the light of dny. There Is a secret and Inexpressible Joy In possessing at the heart of one's being, an Interior world known only to Ood, whence, nevertheless, come Im pulses, enthusiasms, the daily renewal of courage and the most powerful mo tives for activity among our fellow met). When this intimate life loses In intensity, when man neglects it for what is superficial, he forfeits in worth all that lie gains In appearance. By n, sad fatality it happens that way we often become In proportion as yvts -->•« And we remain admired, in w*~' ..ed that what is vuii* *' is unknown there, niose know it who posses* It, ..a if they speak of it in so doing they destroy its charm. There are passionate lovers of nature whom she fascinates most In b.vplaces, in the cool of forests, in the clefts of canyons, everywhere that the careless lover Is not admitted to her contempla tion. Forgetting time and the life of the world they puss days In these in violate stillnesses, watching a bird build its nest or brood over its young or some little groundling at Its gra cious play. So to seek the good within I himself one must go where he no lon ger finds constraint or pose or "gallery" ->f any sort, but the simple fact of a lilfe made up of wishing to be what It 'is good for it to be, without troubling about anything else. I May we be permitted to record here I ome observations made from life? As ' o names are given tliey cannot be j>nsldered indiscreet, jti my country of Alsace, on the soll ' -y route whose interminable ribbon °.etches on and on under the forests J. the Vosges, there Is a stouebreaker , om 1 have seen at his work for 'J 1 ty years. The first time I came 'j him I was a young student sct mo tPUt with swelling heart for the ■ |fcity. The sight of this man did " ii v'"'- f,,r lie wns humming n song "\VBli*"" ke ' lls Htoues - e exchanged Btld repassed along that same diverse r! or circumstances the most dent ha-; lt. nful nnd JoJ ' fnl Thc " tu ' er of .tones* 1 "'' 1 llis '"""'M " has taken plains what he was. He against s.'» W "T » ,pecnMtlw ™ _ . » ■ ons storms, a rush .. protects hls^ )af un( | j,j s f e j t h»it Is drawn j owll to H h|eld his face. Hut the - ores t | H always send ing back the ec» o j ( | S valiant ham mer. How many j , (U j | j pn tempests have broken over his i >n , bl|( . k how muph adverse fate hasten on llls hon(1 on his house, on hi.-fomitrv! He con tinues to break his > 1)!1(?s 0()lnlnK and going I find roadside, smiling in spite of . ( | S „g e an ,j j,j S wrinkles, benevolent, speaking—above all In dark days—those simple words of brave men, which have so much ef fect when they are scanned to the breaking of stones. It would be quite impossible to ex press the emotion the sight of this sim ple man gives me, and certainly he has no suspicion of It. I know of noth ing more reassuring and at the same time more searching for the vanity which ferments In our hearts than this coming face to face with an obscure worker who does his task as the oak jfrowg and as the good God makes his ■on to rise, without asking who is looking on. I have known, too, a number of old teachers, men and women who have passed their whole life at the same oc cupation, making the rudiments of hu man knowledge and ft few principles of conduct penetrate heads sometimes harder than the rocks. They have done It with their whole soul throughout the length of a hard life In which the at tention of men had little place. When they lie In their unknown graves no one remembers them but n few bumble people like themselves, but their rec ompense is In their love. No one Is greater than these unk«own. How many hidden virtues may one not discover—if he know bow to search —among people of a class he often rid icules without perceiving that In so do ing he is guilty of cruelty, ingratitude and stupidity! I mean old maids. Peo ple amuse themselves with remarking the surprising dress and ways of some of them—things of no consequence, for that matter. Tbey persist also In re minding us that others, very selfish, take Interest In nothing but their own comfort and that of some cat or canary upon which their powers of affection center, and certainly these are not Q«t. done in egoism by the most hardened celibates of tlip stronger sex. But what we «ft©n«st forget Is the amount of self sacrifice hidden modestly away in so many of these truly admirable lives. Is it nothing to be without home and its love, without future, without per sonal ambition? to take upon oneself that cross of solitary life so hard to bear, especially when there Is added the solitude of the heart? to forget oneself and have no other Interests than the care of the old, of orphans, the poor, the infirm—those whom the brutal mechanise <\f iif« casts out among its w-asteV Seen from without these apparently tame and luaterless lives rouse pity rather than envy. ThOSO who approach gently sometimes divine sad secrets, great trials under gone, heavy burdens beneath which too fragile shoulders bend; but this only the side of shadow. We should to know und value Udq richness of heart, this pure good ties*, this power to love, to console, to hope, this Joyful giving up of self, this persistence in sweetness and forgive ness feven toward the unworthy. Poor old molds! How many wrecked have you rescued, how \i\auy wounded have yotj heal«l, how many wanderers fkiivu you gently led artgbt, how many Uaked have you clothed, how many orphans have you taken in, and how many strangers who would have been ulone in the world but for you— yt>u who yourself are often remembered of no one. mistake. Some one Ipnows you; It Is that great mysterloun Pity which keeps watch over our lives and suffers In our misfortunes. For gotten like you. often blasphemed, it has confided to you some of its lieav enllest messages, and that perhaps Is hy above your gentle comings un\ v».w>ah'i, "Where will not the. febte »• Art, In trn.fK „ir~- at ""..arm,.!,.,, c pood men, officially so rec _„nized, quoted among their associ ates-I had almost said guaranteed by the government or the church who can l>e reproached with nothing but dry and hard hearts, while we are as tonished to encounter in certain fallen human beings the most genuine ten derness and, as it were, a thirst for self devotion. I should like to speak next, apropos of the inglorious good, of a class that today It Is thought quite fitting to treat with the utmost one sldedness. I mean the rich. Some people think the last word is said when they have stig matized that Infamy, capital. For them, all who possess great fortunes are monsters gorged with the blood of the miserable. Others, not so declama tory, persist, however, in confounding riches with egoism and insensibility. Justice should be visited on these er rors, be they Involuntary or calculated. No doubt there are rich men who con cern themselves with nobody else, and others who do good only with osten tation. Indeed, we know It too well. But does their inhumanity or hypocrisy take away the value of the good that others do and that they often hide with a modesty so perfect? I knew a man to whom every mis fortune had come which can strike us In our affections. He had lost a be loved wife, had seen all his children burled one after another. But he had a great fortune, the result of his own labor. Living In the utmost simplic ity, almost without personal wants, he spent his time lu searching for oppor tunities to do good and profiting by them. How many people he surprised In flagrant poverty, what means he combined for relieving distress and lighting up dark lives, with what kindly thoughtfulness he took his friends unawares, no one can Imagine. He liked to do good to others and en- Joy their surprise when they did not know whence the relief came. It pleased him to repair the Injustices of fortune, to bring tears of happiness In families pursued by mischance. He was continually plotting, contriving, machinating In the (lark, with a child ish fear of being caught with his hand In the bag. The greater part of these fine deeds were not known till after his death; the whole of them we shall never know. He was a socialist of the right sort, for there are two kinds of them. Those who aspire to appropriate to them selves a part of the goods of others are numerous and commonplace. To belong to their < -it suffices to have a big appetite. >se who are hun gering to divide t:teir own goods with men who have none are rare and pre cious. for to enter this choice company there is need of a brave and noble heart free from selfishness and sensi tive to both the happiness and unhappl ness of its fellows. Fortunately the race of these socialists Is not extinct, and I feel an unalloyed satisfaction in offer ing them a tribute they never claim. I must be pardoned for dwelling up on this. It does one good to offset the bitterness of so many Infamies, so many calumnies, so much charlatan ism, by resting the eyes upon some thing more beautiful, breathing the perfume of these stray corners where simple goodness flowers. A lady, a foreigner, doubtless little used to Parisian life, Just now told me with what horror the things she sees here Inspire her—these vile posters, these "yellow" Journals, these women with bleached hair, this crowd rushing to the races, to dance halls, to roulette tables, to corruption—the whole flood of superficial and mundane life. She did not speak the word Babylon, but doubtless it was out of pity for one of the inhabitants of this city of per dition. "Alas, yes, madam: these things are sad, but you have not seen all." "Heaven preserve me from that!" "On the contrary, I wish you could pee everything, for. If the dark side !s very ugly, there Is so much to ntone for It. And, believe me, madam, you have simply to change your quar ter or observe It at another hour. For Instance, take the Paris of early morn ing. It will offer much to correct your Impressions of the Paris of tho night. Go see, among so many other working people, the street sweepers, who come out at the hour when the Revelers and malefactors go In. Ob serve beneath these rags those cary atid bodies, those austere faces! Uow serious they are at their work of sweeping away the refuse of the night's revelry! One might liken them to the prophets at Ahasuerus' gates. There are women among them, many old people. When the air is cold they stop to blow their fingers aud then go at It again. So It In every day. And they, too, are Inhabitants of Paris. i \ "Go next to the faubourgs, to the Factories, especially the smaller ones, where the children or the employers labor with the men. Watch the army of workers marching to their tasks. How ready and willing these young girls seem as they come gayly down from their distant quarters to the shops and stores and offices of the city! Then visit the homes from whleV they come. See the womatt of tho people at her work. Her husband's wages are mcul«»t. their dwelling Is tauiped, the children are many, fhe tit her ts often harsh. Make a collec -1 lion of the biographies of lowly peo- He, budgets of modest family life; loook ut them attentively and long. "After that go see the students. Throe who have scandalized you In the streets are numerous, but thosv who labor hurd are leglcvft, only they stay at home smd aro uot talked about. If knew the toil and dig of the Latin quarter! You find the papers fall of the rumpus made by a certain set of youths who call themselves studeuta. The papers say enough of t'uv*e who break windows, but Why do they muke no mention of those who spend their nlgbta tolling over problems? Because it wouldn't Interest the public. Yes, when now and then one of them, a medical student perhaps, dies a victim, to professional duty the matte? to* B two lines in the dallleft, A drunken brawl gets half « eohmin, with every detflij elaborated. Nothing Is lacking l\ut the portraits of the heroes, and not always that. "I should never end were I to try to point out to you all that you must go to see if you would see all. You would needs make the tour of society at large, rich poor, wise aud ig norant. eertalaly you would not Judgtj severely then. Paris Is a world, »nd here, as In the world In general, the good hides away while tho evil flaunts Itself. Observing the surface, you sometime* «»k how there can possibly btk »•> much riffraff. When, on the ytdntrnry, you look Into the dep.ta* yot» are astonished that In this troublous, obscure and sometimes frightful life there can be so much virtue." But why linger over these things? Am I not blowing trumpets for those who hold trutupet blowing in horror? «*>| understand me so. My aim is Ihht; To make men think about un ostentatious goodness—above uU. to make them love It and practice It. The man who find# Ids satisfaction In things which glitter and hold his eyes Is lost, first, because he will thus see evil before all else, then because he gets accustomed to the sight of only such good as seeks for notice, and there fore easily succumb* to the temptation to live himself for appearances. Not only must one be resigned to obscurity; he must love It If he does not wish to slip insensibly Into the ranks gf Ugu rants, who preserve their parts only while under tho eyes of the spectators and put oft In the wings the restraints Imposed on the stage. Here we are lu the presence of one of the essential elements of the moral life. And this which we say Is true not only for those who are called hum ble and whose lot It Is to pass unre marked; it Is Just as true, aud more so, for the chief actors. If you would not be a brilliant Inutility, a man of gold lace and plumes, but empty Inside, you must play the star role In the sim pie spirit of the most obscure of your collaborators. lie who Is uothlng worth except on hours of parade Is worth less than nothing. Have we the perilous i honor of being always lu view, of marching in the front ranks? Let us take so much the greater care of the sanctuary of silent good, within us; let us give to the structure whose facade Is seen of our fellow men a wide foun dation of simplicity, of humble fidel ity, and then, out of sympathy, out of gratitude, let us stay near our broth [ era who are unknown to fame. We owo everything to them, do we not? 1 call to witness every oue who has found lu life this encouraglug experi ence—that stones hidden in the soli hold up the whole edifice. All those who arrive at having a public and recog nlzed value owe It to some humble spiritual ancestors, to some forgotten Inspirers. A small number of the good, among them simple women, peasants, vanquished heroes, parents as modest as they are revered, personify for us beautiful and noble living; their exam ple inspires us and gives us strength. The remembrance of them Is forever inseparable from that conscience be fore which we arraign ourselves, lu our hours of trial we think of them, courageous and serene, and our bur dens lighten. In clouds they compass us about, these witnesses Invisible and beloved who keep u* from stumbling and our feet from falling lu the battle and day by day do they prove to ut> U>at the treasure of humanity Is Its hidden goodness. CHAPTER X. THE WORLD AJTD THX LIT* OF THE HOME. IN the time of the second empire, in one of our pleasantest subprefec tures of the provinces, a little way from some baths frequented by the emperor, there was a mayor, a very worthy man and intelligent, too, whose head was suddenly turned by the thought that his sovereign might one day descend upon his home. Up to this time he had lived In the bouse of his fathers, a son respectful of tue slight est family traditions. 3ut when once the all absorbing idea of receiving the emperor had taken possession of his brain he became another man. In this new light what had before seemed suf ficient for his needs, even enjoyable, all this simplicity that his ancestors had loved, appeared poor, ugly, ridicu lous. Out of the question to ask an em peror to climb this wooden staircase, sit in these old armchairs, walk over such superannuated carpets. So the mayor called architect and masons; pickaxes attacked walls and demolish ed partitions, and a drawing room was made out of all proportion to the rest of the house in size and splendor. He and his family retired Into close quar ters. where people and furniture in commoded each other generally. Then, having emptied his purse and upset his household by this stroke of genius, he awaited the royal guest. Alas, he soon saw the end of the empire arrive, but the emperor never. The folly of this poor man is not so rare. As mad as he are all those who lacriuce their home life to the de mands of the world. And the danger In such n sacrifice is most menacing in times of unrest. Our contemporaries are constantly exposed to It and con stantly succumbing. How many fami ly treasures have they literally thrown away to satisfy worldly ambitions and conventions, but the happiness upon which they thought to come through these Impious Immolations always eludes them. To give up the ancestral hearth to let the family traditions fall- Into des uetude, to abandon the simple domes tic customs, for whatever return Is to make a fool's bargain, and such is the place In society of family life that If this be Impoverished the trouble Is felt throughout the whole social organism. To enjoy a normal development this organism has need of well tried indi viduals, each having his own value, hlB own hall mark. Otherwise society be comes a flock, and sometimes a flock without a shqpherd. But whence does the individual draw his originality, this unique something which, Joined to the distinctive qualities of others, con stitutes the wealth and strength of a community? He can draw It only from his own family. Destroy the as semblage of memories and practices whence emanates for each home an atmosphere in miniature, and you dry up the sources of character, sap the strength of public spirit. It concerns the country that each home be a world, profound, respected, communicating to its members an in effaceable moral Imprint But before pursuing the subject farther let us rid ourselves of a misunderstanding. Fam ily feeling, like all beautiful things, has Its caricature, which Is family egoism. Some families are like barred and bolt ed citadels, their members organized for the exploitation of tho whole world. Everything that does not directly con cern them Is Indifferent to them. They live like colonists—l had almost said Intruders—in the society around them. Their particularism is pushed to such an excess that they make enemies of the whole human race. In their small way they resemble those powerful so cieties formed from time to time through the ages which possess them selves of universal rule and for which no one outside their own community counts. This la the spirit that has sometimes made the family seem a re treat of egoism which It was neces sary to destroy fcr the public safety. But as patriotism and Jingoism are as far apart as the east from the west so are faintly feeling and clannlshness. Here we are talking of right family feeling, and nothing else in the world can take its place, for in It He In germ all those fine and simple virtues which assure the strength and duration of social Institutions. And the very base of family feeling Is respect for the past, for the best possessions of a family are Its common memories. An intangible, Indivisible and Inalienable capital, these souvenirs constitute a sacred fund that each member of a family ought to consider more pre cious than anything else he possesses. They exist in a dual form, In Idea and in fact. They show themselves In lan guage, ynblts of thought sentiments, even Instincts, and one sees them ma terialized in portraits, furniture, build ings, dress, songs. To profane eyes they are nothing; to the eyes of those who know bow to appreciate the things of the family they are relics with which one should not part at any price. But what generally happens In our day? Worldiiness wars upon the seu tlment of family, and I know of no strife more impassioned. By great means and small, by all sorts of new customs, requirements and preten sions, the spirit of the world breaks into the domestic sanctuary. What are this stranger's rights, its titles? Upon what does it rest Its peremptory claims? This is what people too often neglect to Inquire. They make a mis take. We treat the invader as very poor and simple people do a pompous visitor. For this incommoding guest of a day they pillage their garden, bully their children and servants and neglect their work. Such conduct Is not only wrong; it is Impolitic. One should have the courage to remain what he is in the face of all comers. The worldly spirit is full of Imperti nences. Here is a home which has formed characters of mark and is form ing them yet. The people, the furnish ings, the customs are all in harmony. By marriage or through relations of business or pleasure the worldly spirit enters. It finds everything out of date, awkward, too simple, lacking the modern touch. At first It restricts it self to criticism and light raillery. But this Is the dangerous moment. Look out for yourself—here is the enemy! If you so much as listen to his reason ings, tomorrow you will sacrifice a piece of furniture, the next day a good old tradition, nnd so one by one the family heirlooms dear to the heart will go to the bric-a-brac dealer—and filial pletv with them. In the midst of your new habits and |i the changed atmosphere your friends of other days, your old relatives, will be expatriated. Your next step will be to lay them aside In their turn. The worldly spirit leaves the old out of conslderiitlon. At last, established In an absolutely transformed setting, even you will view yourself with amaze ment. Nothing will be familiar, but surely It will be correct—at least the world will be satisfied. Ah. that is where you are mistaken! After hav ing made you cast out pure treasure as so much Junk It will find that your bor- I rowed livery fits you ill and will hasten ' to make you sensible of tbe ridiculous- No. 4. ness of the situation. Much better have bad from the beginning the eour- Rge of your convictions and have de fended your Lome. Many young people when they marry listen to this voice of the world. Their parents have given them the example t>f a modest life, but the new genera tion thinks it affirms Its rights to ex istence and liberty by repudiating ways in Its eyes too patrlirehal. So these young folks make rfforts to sot them selves up lavishly in the latest fashion and rid themselves of useless property at dirt cheap prices. Instead of filling their bouses with objects which say, "Remember!" they garnish them with quite new furnishings that as yet have no meaning. Walt. I am wrong; these things are often symbols, as It were, of a facile and superficial existence. In their midst one breathes a certain heady vapor of tuundanlty. They re call the life outside, the turmoil, the rush. And were one sometimes dis posed to forget this life they would call back his wandering thought and •ay, "Remember!** In another sense, do not forget your appointment at the club, the play, the races. The home then becomes a sort of halfway house where one comes to rest a little be tween two prolonged absences. It isn't a good place to stay. As it has no soul, it does not speak to yours. Time to eat and sleep, and then off again! Otherwise you become as dull as a hermit We are all acquainted with people who have a rage for being abroad, who ' think the world wonld no longer, go round If they didn't figure on all sides of It To stay at home is penal. There they cease to be In view. A horror of home life possesses them to such a degree that they would rather pay to be bored outside than be amused gratu itously within. In this way society slowly gravitates toward life in herds, which must not be confounded with public life. The life in herds is somewhat like that of swarms of flies in the sun. Nothing so much resembles the worldly life of a man as the worldly life of another man. And this universal banality de stroys the very essence of public spir it One need not Journey far to dis cover the ravages made in modern so ciety by the spirit of worldiiness, and if we have so little foundation, so lit tle equilibrium, calm good sense and Initiative, one of the chief reasons lies In the undermining of the home life. The masses have timed their pace by that of people of fashion. They, too, have become worldly. Nothing can be more so than to quit one's own hearth for the life of saloons. The squalor and misery of the homes are not enough to explain the current which carries each man away from his own. "Why does the peasant desert for the inn the house that his father and grandfather found so comfortable? It has remain ed the same. There is the same fire in the same chimney. Whence comes it that It lights only an incomplete circle when in olden times young and old sat shoulder to shoulder? Something has changed in the minds of men. Yieldihg to dangerous impulses, they have bro ken with simplicity. The fathers have quitted their poet of honor, the wives grow dull beside the solitary hearth, and the children quarrel while waiting their turn to go abroad, each after his own fancy. We must learn again to live the home life, to value our domestic tradi tions. A pious care has preserved cer tain monuments of the past. So an tique dress, provincial dialects, old folk songs, have found appreciative hands to gather them up before they should disappear from the earth. What a good deed, to guard these crumbs of a great past, these vestiges of the souls of our ancestors! Let ua do the same for our family traditions, save and guard as much as possible of the patriarchal, whatever Its form. But not every ojje has traditions to keep; all the more reason for redou bling the effort to constitute and foster a family life. And to do this there is need neither of numbers nor a rich establishment To create a home you must have the spirit of home. Just as the smallest village may have its his tory, its moral stamp, so the smallest home may have its soul. Oh, the spir it of places, the atmosphere which sur rounds us In human dwellings! What a world of mystery! Here, even on the threshold, the cold begins to penetrate; you are ill at ease; something intangi ble repulses you. There no sooner does the door shut you in than friendliness and good humor envelop you. It is said that walls have ears. They have also voices, a mute eloquence. Every thing that a dwelling contains is bath ed In an ether of personality. And I find proof of its quality even in the apartments of bachelors and solitary women. What an abyss between one room and another room! Here all Is dead, Indifferent commonplace; the de vice of the owner is written all over It even In his fashion of arranging his photographs and books. AH Is the same to me. There one breathes In ani mation, a contagious Joy in life. The visitor hears repeated In countless fashions: "Whoever you are, guest of an hour, I wish you well. JPeace be with you." Words can do little Justice to the subject of home, tell little about tho effect of a favorite flower In the win dow or the charm of an old armchair %'here the grandfather used to sit offering his wrinkled hands to the kisses of chubby children. Poor mod erns, always moving or remodeling! We who from transforming our cities, our houses, our customs and creeds have no longer where to lay our beads, let us not add to the pathos and empti ness of our changeful existence by abandoning the life of the home. Let us light again the flame put out on our hearths, make sanctuaries for our selves, warm nests where the children may grow Into men, where love may find privacy, old age repose, prayer an altar and the fatherland a cult. [TO BE CONTINUED.} Little Bill's Lack. It is not probable that superstition will ever receive its deathblow, but now and then it gets Jogged a bit Two lockneys met not long ago, says Good Words, In a London thoroughfare. "I've Just 'eard that your little Bill got run over," said one. " 'Ow did it 'appen?" " 'E was picking up a 'orseshoe for luck," replied little Bill's father. All Down. Mrs. Newlywed—Doctor, that bottle of medicine you left for baby is all gone. Doctor —Impossible! I told you to give hlin a tenspoonful once an hour. Mrs. Newlywed—Yes, but John end I and mother and the nurse have each to take a teaspoonful, too. In or der to Induce baby to take It.—Puck. Maltlns Hlraaelf Safe First. "What are you plunging back In tlie water for, Pat? You Just swam ashore." "Shure, Ol had to save meself first. Now Ol'm goln' back to fetch Moike." —Modern Society. If you will try to climb to the top of the ladder, be careful not to tumbl* [ off or make yourself rldlcoloui.