VOL. XXXXII. THE MODERN STORE- First With New Spring Goods. Special Low Prices on New Spring Arrivals. Every Lady Reader Will be Interested. Ladies' Dip Hip Corset, with supporters attached, made by the Kabo Co.. all sizea. worth 75c, 50c . I Ladies' New Mannish Cape Walking (iloves. a reeular $1.35 glove, $1 pr. New Veilings for March blustery winds. 25c to 50c yd New Turnovers and Stock Collars, 5c 10c, 18c, 25c, 50c- New China Silk Shirt Waists good quality silk, nice'y trimmed, a regular $4.00 waist S3 1 New Hand Bags special value at 50c and 11 00. A Flyer For the Men. New Negligee Shirts at 50c and SI.OO. They are the right kind too. EISLER-MARDORF COfIPANY, SOUTHluramirr \ QQI JSESrc?2«' s ' I Send in Your Mail Orders. OPrOSITE HOTEL ARLINGTON. BUTLER. PA. jwe*""wish to Announce | S That we have now in stock and ready for your inspection / C the finest line of spring clothing ever shown in Butler. 1 J When we tell you that the I. HAMBURGER & SONS' ✓ J Suits, Overcoats, Top Coats and Rain Coats are here 1 j nothing more need be said. c N Our crack line of boys' and children's spring suits / C and top coats are on display. For quality, taste and style, r / the Skolney make of boys' knee-pant suits and top coats » ) are worthy of a place with I. Hamburger s clothing for ) J Fine lot of hats for spring wear just in. C S We still continue our discount sale on heavy goods / / for the beneft of those who have not had the opportunity J /of attending this sale in the past. Remember, only a \ < few days more. \ / Watch for window display of spring clothing and hat?, f \ Douthett & Graham, j i J INCORPORATED ( K ' |{ KECK; I? Merchant Tailor. Spring Suitings n JUST ARRIVED. ( KE C K WHY ABE YOU SITTING UP ALL NIGHT FIRING COAL WHEN YOU CAN GET AN EVANS OAS OR GASOLINE ENGINE WITH REVERSIBLE CLUTCH PULLEY. t |JIT WILL PULL RODS. MSmJ 111 Ski IT WILL PULL TUBING IT WILL || wells with 11 uF THE qas FIRE A MM STARTINO ENOINE ON THE WRITE FOR CATALOGUE. THE EVANS MFG. CO , LTD., BUTLEB, FA, I I * $ • ••• il J. Q. & W. CAMPBELL, | AGENTS FOR BUTLER. j| • j Cypher's Incubators and brooders also Poultry 31 i 4 Supplies and International Stock Food. & CALL FOR CATALOGUE. ! j 'BIJT L.EB, p It Fail and Winter "Millinery**! j i Arrival of a large line of Street Hats, Tailor-made & | j and ready-to-wear Hats. All the new ideas and *£ i l designs in Millinery Novelties. Trimmed and Un- 3; •; j trimmed Hats for Ladies, Misses and Children. All 21 | i the new things in Wings, Pom pons; Feathers, 31 Q§trich Qoods, etc, etc. X jj Rockensteln's I || Mil littery Emporium,! S 828 Soath Main Street, Bntler P»; lit THE BUTLER CITIZEN. iif I WICK'S sSpring Hatsl | for men j | are here. j ? The best ever j £ shown in j | Butler. | jSee our windowj ;Jno. S.Wick. | # HATTER AND FURNISHER, r # Peoples Phone, 615. f j BUTLER, PA. t Beef, and Iron This preparation is famous as a sys tem bnilder and general tonic Onr preparation differs from all others of the same name. be< anse we nse pre dicted Ueel". the be«)t sherry wiue, and the iron is in snch form that it is quick ly taken into the system. It is pleasant to take and prompt in action, making rich, red blood. Do You Require a Tonic? Are you weak, worn out, run down and nervous? Is your blood thin and impure? Are you pale and "haggard, lips white? Do you become exhausted from every little effort, your sleep rest less, your appetite poor? If yon have any of these symptoms use our Beef, Iron and Wine. If the result is not satisfactory we will gladly return your money. Price. 50 cents a pint NURSES DIRECTORY. THE Crystal Pharmacy R. M. LOGAN, Ph. G., BOTH PHONES. 106 N. Main St., Butler, Pa. £YOUR MONEY BACK} ? IF NOT SATISFIED I S We have a line of remedies put c C np under our own label such as / i a Cold Cure, Blood Purifier, i S Dyspepsia Tablet, Headache Cure, J \ etc., which we sell upon a guar- V # antee or money refunded. f N Just now the sale on our £ | Cough Syrup M lea4s that qf all orh&r cough C S gyrups combined. ' \ TRY IT FOR YOURSELF. < 25c, 50c- / >Redick & Grohman | ) 109 Korth Main St., > s Butler, Pa. THE ideal is said to be un- U|# attainable. But i mflLff we flatter our- || |M have came pretty PHOTOGRAPHS in our sample albums include some portraits J-y- JWH which will bear L* ' and look at them nice it would be mi 111 |i j to be in such a a}|lUpi|| Hp handsomecollec-ip W|| 'JjHT ZUVEfI'S STUBie, 216 S. Main St., Butler. WM. WALKER, (.'HAS. A. MCELVAJN. WALKER & McELVAIN, 807 Butler County National Bank Bldg. REAL ESTATE. INSURANCE. OIL PROPERTIES. LOANS. BOTH PHONES CLEANSING CATARRH 4ND HEATING CURE FOR CATARRH Ely's Cream Balm Eaey and pleasant to tisi*. Contains no in- Jurlom drug. It is qnickly absorbed. Given Kelief at once. \ V 1 AU.IYS Inflammation. ** WFCJ* * Heal* ai.d Protects the Membrane. Restores the Senses of Taste and Smell. Large Size, 80 cents »t Druggists or by mail; Trial Size, 10 cents by mail. ELY BfOTilEKi, 66 Warren Street, New York. "PROFESSIONAL CARDS. PHYSICIANS, T C. BOYLE, M. D. F) , EYE, EAR, NOSE and THROAT, SPECIALIST. 121 East Cunningham Street. Office Hours, 11 to 12 a. m., 3 to 5 and 7 to 9 p. m. BOTH TELEPHONES. DR. JULIA E. FOSTER, OSTEOPATH. Consultation and examination free. Office hours —9 to 12 A M.. 2 to M., daily except Snud«y Evening appointment. Office —Stein Block, Rooms 9-10, But ler. Pa. People's Phone 478. CLARA E. MORROW, D. 0., GRADUATE BOSTON COLLEGE OF OSTEOPATHY. Women's diseases a specialty. Con sultatiau aud examination free. Office Hours, 9to 12 m., 2 to 3 p. ni People's Phone 573. 116 S. Main street, Bv.f'-r, Fa GM. ZIMMERMAN • PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON At 327 N- Main St. T R. HAZLETTrD., Lit 106 West Diamond, Dr. Sraham's former off-ce. Special attention gve.- to Eye, v os> and Throat Peoole's Phone 274. OAMUBLM. BiPt-L-s; U PHYSICIAN AMR SURG VON 200 West C" nningharr. St. DENTISTS. DR. FORD H. HAYES. DENTIST Graduate of Dental Department, University of Pennsylvania. Office—2ls 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 nsed. Com inanimations jreceiva prppipt at tention. DR J. WILBERT MCK.EE, SURGEON DENTIST. Office over Leighner's Jewelry store, Butler, Pa Peoples Telephone 505. A specialty made of gold filliugs, gold crown anu bridge work. W J. HIND MAM, , DENTIST. « 1274 South Main street, (ov Metzer'e shoe store.) DR. H. A. MCCANDLESS, DENTIST. Office in Butler County National Bank Building, 2nd floor. DR. M. D. KOTTRABA, Successor to Dr. Johnston. DENTIST Office at No 114 E. Jeflerson St., over G W. Miller's grocery ATTORNEYS, RP. SCOTT, • ATTORNF.Y-AT-LAW, Office in Butler County National Bank building. AT. SCOTT, • ATTORNEY AT LAW. Office at No. 8. West Diamond St. But ler, Pa. COULTER & BAKHR, ATTORNEYS A'R UV. Oftpe iu butler County National Bank building. JOHN tt. COULTER, A TTORNEY-AT-LA W. Office on Diamond, Butler, Pa. Special ittention given to collections and business matters. JD. McJUNKIN, • A TTORNEY-AT-LAW. Office in Reiber building, cornei Main and E. Cunningham Sts, Entrance on Main street. JB. BREDIM, • ATTORNEY AT LAW. Office ou Main St. ti«r Court Houaf HH. GOUCHER, • ATTORNEY AT LAW. Office in Wise building. EH. NEGLftV • ATTORNEY AT LAW. Office In the Negiey Building, West Diamond WC. FINDLEY. t ATTORNEY-AT-LAW, AND PENSION ATTORNEY. Office on South side of Diamond, Butler, Pa. MISCELLANEOUS. p F. L. McQUISTION, V. Civil, ENGINEER AND SURVEYOR Office near Court Ilouae. T P. W4LKSR, ■ML NOTARY PUBLIC, BUTLER, Office with Berkmer, next door to P. O BF. HILLIARD, » GENERAL SURVEYING. Mines and Land. County Surveyor. R. F D. 49, West Sunbury, Ps. S. MoJfFNKIN; tltA McJUNKIN* GEO, A, MITCHELL. h. S. McJUNKIN & CO, Insurance &■ Real Estate 117 E Jefferson St.. SUTbER, - - - - PA H. I^ILFCSS. FIRE and LIFE INSURANCE and REAL ESTATE. OFFICE— Room 50S, Butler County National Bank building. BUTLER, PA., THURSDAY, MARCH 9, 1905. Mother For John Philip By H&rriet G. C&nHeld Coprivl i. 1904, by I G. Car.: r kj John I'hilip Brown sat up very straight at his end of tlie breakfast ta ble. Mrs. Rachel Noah, at the other end, could not see his little bare feet playing tag beneath the table. "Aunt Rachel looks just like my chicken hawk—anyways she would if he wore spit curls," he said to himself, with a little chuckle. "I bet"— But John Philip's bet was never recorded, for Su lan appeared just then, red and gig gling. Mrs. Noah stared at her reprovingly. ' I did not ring," she said sternly. "No'm, I know you didn't, but she— she's here, an' " " 'She?' Take your apron down from your mouth aud talk connectedly. Who is here?" "Columbia Columbia Farley. She says that's her name, ma'am, an' she's from the Orphans' home— a little mite of a thing, an' that funny!" Here Su san retired again behind I'er apron, "What does she want?" Mrs. Noah asked grimly. "Well, ma'am," Susan exploded, "she wants to stay!" "Stay?" her mistress repeatod blank ly. while John Philip, unreproved, squirmed with delight. Here was some thing doing at last. "Yes'rn," Susan went on, "She's had her eye on this house, she says, for a long time, but it wa'n't till thi3 morn in' that she decided S(lie'd live with you. She's a-settin' on her satchel out in the kitchen." Mrs. Noah fairly snorted with aston ishment and indignation. "Much oblig ed to her, I'm sure," she said sarcas tically, "aud may 1 ask what decided her in our favor?" "It was John Philip, ma'am," Susan said, choking with laughter. "She—she says she wants to be a mother to him." John Philip's face matched his hair in color now; even the freckles took on a livelier red. "Consarn he!" h§ said under his breat^. •/.Any more?" his aunt asked, with the air of one prepared for the worst. "Yes'm; she asked what your name was, an' when I said 'Mrs. Noah' shg was that ohe said she'd neard about you an' Mr. Noah at Sun day school, but she had no Idee you was livin' yet." "Anything more? My oatmeal is get ting cold. Don't stand there, giggling like an ldio{ " i'Bnti vvyuuered hew old you was, nia'am, an' when I said I didn't know she thought she could tell by lookin' at your teeth, like the hired man at the home done • when he bought a horse." A great wave of color rolled over Mrs. Noah's face and broke on the beach of "spit curls' 5 outlining her high forehead. "Bring her iq," she said, Closing her thin lips tightly over her "store" teeth. Susan disappeared and a moment lat er ushered "Columbia Farley" Into the august presence of her mistress. She was truly "a mite of a thing," with great dark eyes and a most engaging sndle. "How do you do, Mrs. Noah?" she said, holding out her hand in a quaint, old fashioned way. To John Philip's surprise, his aunt took the little hand In hers. "So you'd like to live here?" gbp said not unkindly. "Yes, awful well. Don't you need me?" she asked naively. "I think not," Mrs. Noah said, very gently for her, "aud, besides, I couldn't take you without tho consent of the n»3trou at the home." "Oh, she won't care!" the little girl exclaimed eagerly. "There's too many of us now and"— "Well," Mrs. Noah Interrupted, "you can stay to breakfast, and then I'll go With you to tbe home," The child had crept thus quickly into a warm corner of the grim lady's heart. She was eating her oatmeal when John Philip's father came down tq breakfast and asked so kindly. ' Whose little girl is tUiaV" 'hat Columbia's heart went out to him then and there. "1 don't know," she said simply in reply to his question. "They ain't found out yet at the home, but 1 know how old I am. I'm going on suven. I'm little, bnt —ghe nodded cheerily at John Philip— "till he got a really, truly one." "A really, truly what?" Mr. Brown asked smilingly. "Why, a mother, of cour»6. I learned how to be one from Mis' Jones. She has eight children. She lives near tbe home. You just help 'em be good, and they will, 'cause you love 'em so. It's awful nice to have a mother," she said wistfully. "I asked Tommy Jones if lie didn't thiuK st), and ho said, 'Sure thing!"" John Philip tried to scowl, but his forehead refused to pucker, and when bis father said, "Shall we let her you, son?" he laughed outright. "We— we—RiigUt give her a try," he stammer «*l. And so it happened that Columbia Farley entered the Brown family "on probation" and later was taken Into "full membership." It was on a Saturday morning, a month or more after Columbia had been received into full membership, that the children were playing together in" the garden. h I guess J')l wadln' this after- HOOfi," John Philip announced. "Aunt ttwbhel would just worry If I told her, and daddy won't be home for lunch, so I can't ask him." "I'm 'frald you'll be drown-ded, dear," the little mother said anxiously (John Philip did not object to "dearing" ill private), "an' I don't believe you'd hotter go," ■"pooh!" John Philip rejoined. "You iiin't my mother. I uln't had a mother fclnce I was born." \ "No," she sighed, "if you had a real ty truly oue I guess you'd have to njind. Your father uiiriit got rou one." Jolm Philip grinned. "He's too busy," h«* said, "but I kuow oue I'd like to get. Last summer we was down at Cove iaiet three weeks—daddy an' me—an' tliere was a jolly nice girl there, an' WO liked her awful well—cloddy, an' ui»- aij' we her pictui-e one day—snnp —l mean daddy did. lie's got it yeK Cojue UP to his room, and I'll hunt for'j It." Tlae children tied into the house aud up to Mr. Brown's sitting roqm. Be lling a tall vase John Philip found the Qbjejpt of Ida search. For a moment Co lumbia gazed at It with wondering eyes "Why, It's her!" she shouted, with mqie force than grammar. "It's my Milss Curtis! She lives near the home. 'Course she's awful nice!" She gazed and lovingly at the picture. "Say," stye said at last, "s'pose we get her ror yfour mother?" /Thrrgupyii followed a discussion of and means, and it was not until i after luncheon that the committee of two set forth in qu ant of a mother for : John Philip. It wns a very startled and amazed voting lady who listened > to tl.eir plea. It was Columbia who of- \ fered the most persuasive argument. i "lie hasn't anybody but his Aunt i Itachel and his father," s!ie said plead ingly. "an* he keeps your picture back of a vase, an' " "Who keeps my picture?" Miss Cur- ' tis interrupted, her sweet face Bush ing a rose red. "Why, Johu Philip'a father," Colam- ' bla explained. "I s'pose you didn't j know 'bout it then?" "No, I didn't know," she said. "I didn't know," she repeated to herself ( again and again. "Now you know, an' won't you j come, please?" It was John Philip who pleaded now. ills*, Curtis stoop- j ed and took his freckled little face be tween her slender white bauds. "I'll j think of it, dear," she promised, "but i It will be better not to mention your —your proposal to your father." John Philip did not agree with her, and that very evening he broke the news to his unsuspecting father. Co lumbia, with r»r« delicacy, had declin ed to be present. '•Daddy" John Philip said bluntly, "I asked her—Columbia an' me." Philip Brown looked up from his pa per. He was a fine specimen of man hood—strong of body and mind, cieau of heart and still ou "the sunny side" of forty. "Asked whom?" he said. "Asked what?" "Miss Curtis, you know. I—l asked her to be my mother." Philip Brown sat up very straight and stared nt his smn jl sou and heir. "Don't yqi; want her?" the little fel- Jow said, struggling manfully to keep back the tears. "I said I was sure you wanted her, same as I did." "What did she say?" 'l'tio question came from between white lips. "§he didn't know you had her pic ture till Columbia told her. She said she'd think about it, but I'd better not tell you I'd asked her to"— But John Philip was talking to the empty air. His father was out of the room before the last sentence was fin ished. He bas his hat and van "Gee," John Philip said to himself, "we've done it now, I guess—Colum bia an' me!" They had. The bridg pnd fwom said so on their day. John Philip's Salter had suggested that the orches tra play "Hail Columbia" while the knot was being tied, but, strange to say, the bride elect objected. P^UVI'KI^ t#ne day in the cloakroom of the sen ate, apropos of a discussion whether, from an intellectual standpoint, states men of the present fall below the standard set by those of the past, one of the members told the following story: "There \ived in Lee eounty, Ky., a sage by the name of Jesse Cole, Jesse entertained the notion that the present day type of lawyer was not to be compared with the Jurists of the old days. One day as he was entering the courthouse at Beattyville he notic ed a group of lawyers who were dis cussing the points of a cr benefit? One branch of knowledge concentrat ed upon amounts to more In the long run.—Philadelphia Bulletin. Sword Stnndu In Churches. Sword stands came Into use in Lon don churches when it became custom ary to carry the city sword before the lord mayor as be wont to church in state.. During service the sword was placed in tli<; stand or case provided for It, and in his own church the lord mayor generally had the stand piftwd conveniently near to QV Ui his family pew. Tliig vWMt'.un, which was quite before the end of the six teenth century, apparently began in the reign of Elizabeth. Tbv state vis its to the city clpuv-hes weft) discontin ued in \\i* mayoralty of Sir R. N. Fow ler, 1883.—London Standard. Profitable'lnvention*. No one class of inventions has been so profitable to both the manufacturer and the inventor a* musical instru ments and appliances for same. Nu merous Improvements to the piano have been a source of large fortunes, and various devices are at present be ing continuously applied. Radically uew instruments possessing real merit are the inventions needed in this line. The public is always ready to adopt almost anything new in both wind and stringed instruments.—lnventor. Would Even ThlnftM Up. l4 Oh{ Ouch! Stop that!" yelled Tom my. "Why, Tommy, aren't you ashamed?" exclaimed his mother, "I wouldn't cry like that if it were my hair that was eombed." "I'll bet you would if I wuz doin' the combin'," replied Tommy fiercely,— t'atholic Standard and Times, A Mentt TrleU. Adele- Harry is a brute! Estelle— What is the matter now? Adele—He bough. my engagement ring while he was on a trip to Chicago, and 1 will never be able to find out how much It cost—Philadelphia Bulletin. Doing Is the great thing, for if, reso lutely, people do what is right they come to like doing it—Ruskin. Couldn't Be Po*»lble, "Your symptoms," pronounced the physician, "Indicate hydrocephalus." "What's that?" "Water on the brain." "It can't be that, doctor," said Mr. Jagway, greatly relieved. "I haven t drunk a drop of it for six months."— Exchange. Treasures of Brookmere By MARTHA HcCULLOCH-WILLIAMS Gvrtwfat. 1904. far Mutfa* "Jessamine, come in at once!" Mrs. Brookmere called acidly from the west porch. As her granddaughter rose obediently, but with a little impatient sigh, her companion, Austin Wills, whistled softly, then said: "Jessamine! What a wax Madam Brookmere must be in! You're always Sunbeam and Fairy and Bright Eyes When she's In a good humor." "That Is to say when the Beveridge thing is around," Jessamine said, with a shrug. is in a wax—she always Is when you come—and she feels In her bones when you are coming." "H-m-m! I ought to be flattered, but I'm not the least bit," Austin answer ed, also rising and catching Jessa mine's hand. She looked aghast, but he kept sturdily at her side until they were facing Jessamine's dragon. Then he said, with his best flourish: "Oh, Madam Brookmere, I have brought this young person to tell you why she can't possibly come in. She Is to go rowing with me. We will be back by late tea time. The afternoon la too heavenly to be wasted on land." "Jessamine, go upstairs and fetch my embroidery. Be sure you don't for get my glasses," madam said, us though the young man had not spo ken. Jessamine made to obey, but Wills held her back. He lifted his hat to the elder lady, turned and walked off, saying over his shoulder: "Send the maid up, madam. It's bad luck to turn back. I can't allow Miss Jessamine to risk spoiling our cruise." "Oh, what will she do to me?" Jessa mine cried as they hurried away. Madam had been too paralyzed by Wills' audacity to say a word. Austin drew Jessamine's hand farther over his arm and smiled down at her, say ing: "I hope it will be 'Out of my house, ingrate!' Then, you see, yon will have to come to my house wheth er or no." "Mercy, you do take a lot on your self!" Jessamine said, pulling away her hand, her eyes dancing wickedly. "I begin to fear, Mr. Wills, that you have taken our little affair seriously"— "Isn't it to be taken seriously? Real ly you lift a weight off my conscience," Wills interrupted in her own tone: then, after a chuckle: "Jess, I must lecture you—point out the sinful folly of your course. Here you might be, by taking pains and showing yourself properly devout and submissive, Mrs. Beveridge —possibly Mrs. Bishop Beveridge—l jieally believe the gentlemau has it in iilm to go high ecclesiastically, he's so suave and silken, Just the sort to worm himself Into the minds of rich church men, not to mention their check books. Yet you are passing him up—passing up the chance of a lifetime—for the sake of"— "A very commonplace sinner," Jessa mine broke in. « Wills gave her a look of pained sur prise. "I was going to say 'for the sake of having your own willful way,'" he protest^. It was early afternoon, and the long, smoot|v- riv«r reach, flecked with sun mid shade, mirrored perfectly the sum mer world either side. Jessamine hung over the boat side, staring at her own image. Austin watched her with hap py eyes, but after a little he drew her upright, saying softly: "Vanity, thy name is Jessamine. I can't have an other case of Narcissus and his image upon my conscience." "Really! Have you a conscience?" Jessamine retorted. "Pirates even have conscelnces—about some things," Austin answered, ship ping his oars and letting the boat drift toward the other bank. "For example, It goes against their consciences to let treasure manifestly within reach go to some other fellow. That other pi rate, Beveridge, shan't have the treas ure of Brookmere." "What is the treasure of Brookmere?" Jessamine asked demurely. "How much is it worth? Aud how are you going to snve It from clerical clutches?" "Let me see. I believe the Brook mere rating Is about three millions," Austin aijgwered rollectlvely, but with a twinkle of the eye, "handy millions at that," he went on, "all in gilt edged securiLies. If you were more than a baby. Jess, you would see a lit tle beyond the end of your none. Bish op-to-be Beveridge did want you—in fact, he still wants you, being a man of taste, for all his sins." "Thanks!" Jessamine interrupted Wills shook his head at her. "He wanted you rather badly, but not so badly as he wanted the Brook mere mouoy. And that he means to have- in iptte of our teeth. Madam Is only sixty and young for her years"— "You can't mean be is trying to mar ry her?" Jessamine cried, aghast. Wills nodded. "That's his present laudable aim. Therefore he would like nothing better than to have us openly defy madam. Our elopemeut would be a trump card for him. Now, although we are not mercenary, neither are we destitute of common prudence. Three millions, or even one or two, might ome in handy a heap of times. More over, we owe madam a certain duty. We can only discharge It by meeting guile with guile. That means, in plain English, you have got to turn from your evil way of preferring my compa ny and smile instead upon the bishop to be"— "I don't understand. How will that help?" Jessamine asked in bewilder ment. "He is mighty near committed to madam. Wait until he is quite com liitled. then do your best to take him rway from her. You can do it, never fear. He's human, if he Is a preacher, aud no mere man yet born of woman Is able to stand against you"— "Thank you again," Jessamine said, tossing her head. "Oh, I want that clump of cardinal flower," leaning as she spoke toward the shelving shore. Wills shook his head. "Snakes!" he said laconically, speaking very loud; then. In a low aside: "Here's where we quarrel, Jess. Insist upon getting out. The bishop to be is coming down the path." "Oh, Mr. Beveridge," Jessamine call ed eagerly, "do come and pick some flowers for me. I want to pick them myself, but I find I am a prisoner," with a withering glance at Wilis. Beveridge ran down to the water's edge. "Won't you let me rescue you?" be cried, balding out his hand. "Jump! I promise you shall get nothing worse than a pair of wet feet by it." "She needn't have even them," Wills said boorishly. "If you'll agree to see her to the house I'll be glad enough to put her ashore. Not in the humor for walking myself and still less for botan izing." Hatf an hour later Mrs. Brookmere was surprised and, if truth must bo spoken, not wholly pleased to see Jes samine sauntering Lome, her hauds full of scarlet liloom, with the Rev. Bewly Beveridge at her elbow. Now the min ister bad been madam's own compan ion all through the earlier afternoon, and, though be had not Mid much— quite too little to make madam aware of her own state of mind—he had look ed unutterably things. She had found the looking pleasant—she was of the women made to be married, childless, although she had burled three hus bands, and still possessed of an alert and lively vanity. She liked to see her name at the head of lists of patron esses, especially missionary and rescue bands. Further, flattery was meat her soul loved to feed on. The Rev. Bewly had found that out at about the second minute and acted upon the knowledge. Indeed, his mind was pretty well made up to marry her before the interview ended. But then he bad not seen Jes samine in this mood. Jessamine upset bis calculations; she fairly swept him off his feet. Madam was sadly puzzled through out the next week. Wills haunted the bouse as much as ever, though Jessa mine openly flouted him, at the same time smiling shy propitiation at the bishop to be. He also was' in a maze. Jessamine's encouragement was too elusive to warrant giving over bis pur suit of madam, yet sufficiently unset tling to make him at times distrait. Wills glared at him and ostentatiously Ignored blm. It was that which gave him the strongest hope. Wills must be Jealous— madly jealous. If only Beveridge had never begun to court that old woman! She was in the be ginning eager to play fairy godmother. It was sickening to feel that he bad disturbed this pious purpose, making the lady feel that she was not too old to inspire grand passion number four. Presently he began to see light He would have It out with Jessamine—ask her plumply to be Mrs. Beveridge, and, if she said "yes," go to madam for her blessing, along with an apocryphal talo of a distant wooer ready to sue for her hand. He could make it appear he had been finding out her mind toward a fourth marriage. It would go hard with him, but that somewhere he would find a man to make good. In deed, providentially he already knew the man—a college president, poor and pious, entitled to write half the alpha bet after his name in honorary distinc tions, with children all safely married, and much in want of a good home. So he went straight to Jessamine, begging her to sing to him. The music room was at the very end of the house, thus well apart. There was small chance of Interruption. All the rest were busy with games or flirting or walking in the flower garden under a white moon. Jessamine went with him, walking high headed and Joyous. At the door of the parlors she waved him forward, running back herself upon some er rand he did not understand. What ever it was, she did It very quickly. He had hardly found the songs he wanted when she was beside him, smil ing at him In the most bewildering fashion. As she reached for the music her hand, apparently by chance, fell lightly upon his. He tried to hold it, but she snatched it away, turned from him and began to sing very softly. He watched her with burning eyes, his breath coming hard and fast. As she made to rise he put his arms about her and gathered her to his breast, say ing hoarsely: "Jessamine, darling,won't you make music for me always? Un less you do my life will be wasted." "You—you are not in earnest!" Jessa mine said, slipping from his arms and averting her face. "You, who are so great, so wise, so good, need another sort of wife—somebody who can help fou. I—l should be only a burden." "A blessed burden, one I shall re joice to carry," Beveridge said, trying to take her hand. She drew away from him, saying as though in despair: "You —you are playing with me. You really want grandmother"— "Grandmother! Oh, you Jealous darling! How dare you name any thing so preposterous?" Beveridge said, catching both her hands. "Grand mother is the most estimable of old ladies, but even if I knew she would take me I could not think of marrying her—not for all the money in the world." "H-m-m! You've been trying to do it for a very moderate part of the money," grandmother said, stepping through the French window upon Aus tin Wills' arm. After one look at her the Rev. Bewly Beveridge stepped out through the same window. He knew the treasures of Brookmere were whol ly lost to hlxa, no matter how they were reckoned. A SCHOOL FOR SPIDERS." /he Inaecta Taoght «o Wtart Their Weba Only on Bottles. "This is my spiders' school," said the young woman, and with a little stick she brushed a few webs from the wall. "Not much to look at, is it? Only a dozen rows of wine bottles, a great many spiders and a great many webs. I make nevertheless a little money out of the school. "Spiders' webs are In demand among surgeons and among the makers of cer tain astronomical Instruments, the sur geons using them to stop hemorrhages with and the instrument makers using them in certain very delicate instru ments—lnstruments wherein, strange to say, a human hair would not take their place, because a hair is neither fine enough nor durable enough to serve the required purpose. "Besides selling the webs I also sell the spiders. A corrupt class of wine dealers buy the spiders. These ineD put them among bottles of new wine. I train the spiders to weave on bottles only—l tear down webs woven any where else— and It Is amazing how quickly these well schooled pupils of mine will cover a case of port or claret with cobwebs, giving to the wine an appearance of great age. "Six spiders in a week will add two years to the aspect of a dozen bottles of wine; hence you will readily see how valuable the ugly little creatures are to wine merchants of a certain type."—Philadelphia Bulletin. Dntr, Then Plea»«re. Mr. Nasmyth, the inventor of the steam hammer, once said: "If I were to try to compress Into one sentence the whole of the experience of an active and successful life and offer It to young men as a rule and certain recipe for success in any station, it would be comprised in this: 'Duty first; pleasure second.' From what I have seen of young men and their after progress I am sutlsfled that what is generally termed 'bad fortune,' 'lll luck' and 'misfortune' Is In nine cases out of ten simply the result of inverting this simple maxim. My own experience convinces me that absence of success arises in the great majority of cases from want of self denial and want of common sense. The worst maxim of all maxims is, 'Pleasure first; work and dntv necourl' " While petty thieves are hanged, peo ple take off their hats to great ones.— Old German Proverb. No. 10. WAYS OF THE MOOSE CHARACTERISTICS OF THE NOBLEST OF ALL WILD ANIMALS. The Urseat of the Deer Family, LIT. la* or Extiaet-The Alaakan Ball Moose Have the Greatest Antlers. The Cow aad Her la*atnlr Calf. Now and then In wanderings through the mountain and forest one comes up on a gigantic blackish brown deer Which by reason of the great length of its yellowish gray legs stands higher than a tall horse. It is clothed in coarse, bristly hair, longest on the neck and shoulders, and It has a rather ugly •verhanging nose which distinguishes It at once from all other kinds of deer. From the throat of the male hangs a long hair covered appendage known as the "bell," and in the fall and winter he has also a pair of wldespreading antlers, very heavy and much flattened or "plamated." He stalks the forest through undergrowth and over fallen trunks like a king of giants, or, if alarmed, he speeds away at an amaz ingly swift swinging trot and with a crashing which resembles the -sound of felling trees. Such Is the moose, the largest of all deer, living or extinct The moose is chiefly an animal of the northern woods, the southern limit of its range being the head of Green riv er, Wyoming. It is also found in northern Maine, New Brunswick, southern Canada, Idaho, British Colum bia, Alberta, Athabasca, Yukon and Alaska. It Is Btrlctly a dweller of the forest seldom venturing to treeless plains. It lives for the most part by browsing on the leaves, twigs and bark . of trees, particularly young trees. In order to reach the tops of tall saplings the moose rears up against them, strad dling them with his long legs and lit erally riding them down. He is fond est of birch, hemlock, alder, aspen, wil low and maple. He also eats mosses and lichens. In May the "cow," as the female moose Is called, gives birth to a long legged, ungainly, tawny colored calf, to protect which the mother will fight any woodland creature to the death. She has no antlers, but she can use her great sharp hoofs with the skill of a prize tighter and has been known to pound to death a large black bear and fairly trample his body Into the ground. The calf stays with Its moth er for two or three years, or until he wanders off to seek a mate for him self. One day last summer I came sud denly upon a cow moose standing knee deep, in a shallow pond, while from beneath her neck her grotesque looking calf peered out at me with eyes wide open, as if with astonishment I hur ried home and returned with a camera, but when I reached the spot they were gone. Like all American deer, the "bull" moose sheds and renews his antlers every year. They become full grown, hard and sharp about the Ist of Octo ber, the beginning of the breeding sea son. At this "time of year the bulls are very savage and not only fight furious ly among themselves, but are apt to attack anything or anybody who comes in their way. The call of the bull is a long drawn bawl with several loud grunts at the end. If there is a cow within hearing she will answer with a low cry, and the bull will come forward to meet her. Hunters often take advantage of this fact and attract the bull by an imitation of the call of the cow, exe cuted on a cone shaped horn made of birch bark. Lying concealed on the bank of a lake or stream, they give out the call, and when the bull comes within range they shoot him. But as this trick is usually played at night and as the bull sometimes never gives any warning of his coming until he is almost on the spot the sport Is apt to be dangerous. The bull at such a time is in no mood to be trifled with, and unless the hunter is cool headed and a good shot the moose Is not only willing but very able to kill him and a dozen like him If they happen to be on the spot Probably the largest moose of which there Is reliable record was shot by Carl Runglus, the animal painter. In New Brunswick in 1901. This great beast stood seven feet high at the shoulders, and the length of its head and body together was nine feet seven inches. The Alaskan moose have the largest antlers, and one pair from an animal shot on the Kenai peninsula has a spread of seventy-eight and a half inches and has thirty-four points. With the dry skull to which they are attached these antlers weigh ninety three and a quarter pounds, a weight which nothing but an animal of gigan tic strength could carry at top speed over the roughest ground and through thickly wooded country. In the winter, when the sn,ow is deep, the moose, sometimes several families together, will gather in a certain sec tion of woodland and be breaking out paths for themselves over a space of perhaps several acres from what is known as a "yard," where, if not dis turbed, they may stay for weeks to gether. But the moose is able to travel well at all seasons, and even In deep snow his long legs enable him to move at a pace which astonishes any hunter who tries to run him down on snow shoes. A wild, free life Is the only one on a moose can live and thrive. In Captivity it is much less nervous than most deer and Is disposed to be gentle ond affectionate. But, as a rule, It will live but a short time, even though It gets the same food which It had in Its native woods. It may appear to relish its food, bnt it will grow to no great size and In a short time will probably die of Inflammation of the stomach. This is one of the noblest wild ani mals in the world, and It should be giv en adequate protection throughout its range.—Bangor Commercial. Yoiif Hunter's Hard Lack.. "Some years ago," said a hunter, "when I lived down on the eastern shore of Maryland, where I was born, I had passed a whole day gunning rab bits and had not killed one. On my way home through the woods I met a boy who had a live rabbit. Ashamed to go home empty handed, I gave the boy 25 cents for his rabbit. "I then said to myself, 'I will tie Mr. Rabbit to a bush and kill him, and the folks at home will say Ed shot n rabbit.' I took a shoestring and fas tened the rabbit to a bush and then stood off, took aim and fired. When the gun had stopped kicking I saw Mr. Rabbit flying through the woods. My bullet had cut the shoestring In twain and had set the little animal free."— Baltimore American. Amltigaooa EnglUh. "Have you ever tried to explain the various meanings of some of our Eng lish verbs to a foreigner?" asked a lady who employs many servants. "My German maid went to the drug store the other day for some headache medi cine and returned very much puzzled. " The man say, "Vlll you take It or shall I send It?" ' she reported. 'Eef he do not send It, how can I take it?" "