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
Btl<l _words, and he said at the end:
food by, my boy! Good courage
passed } luck!"" Since then 1 have
rmjip ,f>d 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<J
toings we sometimes seem to he;n the
Tustling wings of ministering angels.
The good htdott itself under so many
different forms that one has often as
much pains to discover It as to unearth
the best concealed crimes. A Itus
■lan doctor who bad passed ten year#
of his life Jn Siberia. condet\n**l f«*r
political reasons to fqfvet} latwr. used
to find great, pleasure In telling of the
generoaUj, courage and humanity he
had observed, not only among a large
number of the condemned, but also
among the convict guards. For
moment one is tempted \>\ 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.