VOL. XXXXII.
r4# MEN
rk m it Won't bny clothing for the purpose of
41) /t/h1 II ' spending money. They deeire to get the
\fl Hi// I beet possible results of the money expended.
™ Imif \ W \lf Those who bnv cnstom clothing have a
IE 7 I- to ''emend a fit. to have their clothes
Ami.' V A II correct iD sty 1a and to of tre
/ sli*' seller *o tnaran'ee everything. Come to
~ *■' 'j have just received a large stock of Spring
'J\ ' and Summer snitiogs in the latest styles,
\ IMI t shades and colors.
\fflp| j G. F. KECK,
«•" "Wo i "VMERCHANT TAIfeOR,
M J» my 142 N.Mali. St., s»tNr, Pa
THE MODERN STORE.
Extraordinary Display of
WHITE GOODS.
Prices That Will Captivate The Fair Sex.
Just opened this week the largest line of white goods ever shown in
this store. We have all the newest weaves and patterns suitable for
shirt waists and suits, children's dresses, etc. Some exquisite patterns in
dimities, Swisses, fancy P. K's and very handsome things in mercerized
effects at special prices as follows
From 7c to 12 1-2 c per yard.
From 15c to 50c per yard.
Bec our special lines at 25c per yard.
Hundreds of new patterns in ginghams, percales, galatea cloths,
seersuckers, madras, etc. The new mercerized dress linens in white and
colors for shirt waist suits will be very popular.
COMB BEFORE THE RUSH BEGINS.
EISLER-MARDORF COHPANY,
SOUTH MAI* STRICT j f\f\4
ISSIZt&E?' I"I Samples sent on request.
OPPOSITE HOTEL ARLINGTON. BUTLER. PA.
/We Wish to Announce^
) That we have now In stock and ready for your inspection /
\ the finest line of spring clothing ever shown in Butler. \
/ When we tell you that the I. HAMBURGER & SONS r
J Suits, Overcoats, Top Coats and Rain Coats are here ?
) nothing more need be said. ?
\ Our crack line of boys' and children's spring suits ✓
V and top coats are on display. For quality, taste and style, f
/ the Skolney make of boys' knee-pant suits and top coats ?
j are worthy of a place with I. Hamburger's clothing for v
I men. J
> Fine lot of hats for spring wear just in. C
5 We still continue our discount sale on heavy goods /
/ for the beneft of those who have not had the opportunity )
)of attending this sale in the past. Remember, only a S
L few days more. t
/ Watch for window display of spring clothing and hats, r .
| Bouthett & Graham, j
J INCORPORATED (
WHY ABE YOU SITTIHG UP ALL NIGHT FULING COAL
WHEN YOU CAN GET AN
EVANS GAS OROASOLINE ENGINE
WITH REVERSIBLE CLUTCH PULLEY,
■I * mm. ■ CwLMI n IT WILL PULL RODS
ii\iijynL n M ,tw|ll pulltlb,n(j
it will
I WELLS WITH
, B UP THE OAS IT TAKES TO
PIRE A
mm/
WRITE FOR CATALOGUE.
THE EVANS MFG. CO , LTD,
BDTLEB, PA.
; I Jfr $
H J. Q. & W. CAMPBELL, I
II AGENTS FOR BUTLER. H
fi Cypher's Incubators and Brooders also Poultry a;
• t Supplies and International Stock Food. iti
jjiMj CALL FOR CATALOGUE. ,«$
BUTLEK, PA. T
L , ■ _ - - . _. . ——
H Fall and Winter Millinery. '»
I) ::
j Arrival of a large line of Street Hats, Tailor-made
tand ready-to-wear Hats. All the new ideas and
designs in Millinery Novelties. Trimmed and Un-
6 trimmed Hats for Ladies, Misses and Children. All
i the new things in Wings, Pom pons; Feathers, £ £
1 1 Ostrich Goods, etc, etc. j £
]? Rockensteln's |
j* MillirLery Emporiumjs
K 888 B<inlh Main Street, - .... Butler, Pr. yf
iaioiaioiiiigiaiaiipipiiiaiiiigiiiiiimiiiiiiinigriiiiimiiil
THE BUTLER CITIZEN.
sr™
|| WICK'S
jSpring Hats;
i; for men j
i; are here. j
? The best ever j
j shown in >
| Butler. |
jSee our windowj
jjno.S.Wick,j
W HATTER AND FURNISHER, #
# Peoples Phone, 615. #
i BUTLER, PA. }
Beef. and
Iron Wine
This preparation is famous as a sys
tem builder and general tonic Onr
preparation differs from all others of
the same name. be< anse we use pre
digested beef, the best sherry wine, and
the iron is in sach 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 yon weak, worn ont, ran down
and nervous? Is your blood thin and
impure? Are yon pale and haggard,
lips white? Do yon become exhausted
from every little effort, your sleep rest
less, your appetite poor? If you have
any of these symptoms u»e onr 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 7
? IF NOT SATISFIED
S We have a line of remedies put C
r np under onr own label such as /
J a Cold Cnre, Blood Purifier, t
S Dyspepsia Tablet, Headache Cnre, J
€ etc., which we sell upon a guar- V
J antee or money refunded. J
N Just now the sale on our C
> Cough Syrup <
f leads that of all other cough C
N syrups combined. »
C TRY IT FOR YOURSELF. £
< 25c, 50c 7
5 Redick & Grobman <
) 109 North Main St., >
\ Butler, Pa. i
/■wwwwnaa^A
THE
IDEAL [FF^!
is said to be un- ||| Ljl|
attainable. But ||| $$
selves that we
have came.prettyjj|||p^ }>.
PHOTOGRAPHS
in our sample Sxjj&M
albums include
some portraits
which will bear L' |
and look at them
at your leisure. \/M i
nice it would be fejljjL j j|
to be in such al|i|lyM Mr
handsomecollec- m j ''ljH
ZUVEFL'S STUDIO,
215 S. Main St., Butler.
WM. WALKER. L'HAS. A. MCELVAIN.
WALKER & McELVAIN,
iW)7 Butler Connty National Bank Bldg.
HEAL ESTATB.
INtfUItANOE.
OIL PROPERTIES.
LOANS.
BOTH PHONES
PROFESSIONAL CARDS.
PHYSICIANS,
T C. BOYLE, M. D.
i'J • EYK, EAU, N'OSK AM', THROAT,
SPECIALIST.
121 East Cunningham Strut.
Office Hoars 11 t > 12 a. m.. 3 ts> 5 nutl
i 7 to 9 p. in.
BOTH TELKPHOWRS.
UK. JULIA fc: FOSTER,
; I ' CSTKIIPATH.
Consultation and examination free.
Office hoars—9 to 12 A M . 2 to
M., daily except Snnday Evening
appointment.
Office—Stein Block, Rooms 9-10, But
ler. Pa. People's Phone 478.
CLARA E. MORROW. I). 0..
GRADUATE BOSTON COI.LEGK OF
OSTEOPATHY.
Women's disease* a specialty. Con
sultatian and examination free.
Office Hours, 9to 12 111., 2 to 3 p. m
People's Phone 573.
1/6 S. Main street, Uutier. Pa
GM. ZIMMERMAN
• PHYSrCIAN AND SURGnON
At 327 N. Main St.
J R. HAZLETT. ■(. D„
Lit ro6 West iJiamond,
Dr. Graham's former of^ce.
Special attention to Kye. No«r
and Throit People's Phone 274.
OAMUELM. BIPPUS,
U PHYSICIAN AND SURG.'O.N
200 West C"nningharrj St.
DENTISTS.
DR. FORD 11. HAYES,
DENTIST
Graduate of Dental Department,
University of Pennsylvania
Office—2ls S. Main Street, Butler, Pa
DR. S. A. JOHNSTON.
SCRGEON DENTIST.
Formerly of But ler,
Has located opposite Lowry House,
Main St., Butler, Pa. The finest work
a (specialty. Expert painless extractor
of te» th by bis 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.
DR J. WILBERT McKEE,
SURGEON DENTIST.
Office over Leighuer's Jewelry store,
Butler, Pa
Peoples Telephone 505.
A specialty made of gold fillings, gold
crown and bridge work.
\\' J HINDMAN,
] 1 . DENTIST.
12 'i South Main street, (ov Metzer's
shoe store.)
DR. H. A. MCCANDLKSS,
DENTIST.
Office in Butler County National Bank
Building, 2nd floor.
f\R. K D. KCTTRABA,
1/ Successor to Dr. Johnsion.
DENTIST
Office at No 114 L. Jefferson St., over
0 W. Miller's grocery
ATTORNEYS.
RP. SCOTT,
• ATTORNF.V-AT-LAW,
Office in Butler Connty Natioral
Bank building.
AT. SCOTT,
» ATTORNEY AT LAW.
Office at No. 8. West Diamond Ht. But
ler, Pa.
COULTER & BAK.hR,
V ATTORNEYS ',*w.
Office in Butler Connty National
Bank building.
TOHN W. COULTER,
fJ ATTORNBY-AT-LAW.
Office on Diamond, Butler, Pa.
Special attention given to collection
and business matters.
T D MCJUNKIN,
TF • ATTORNEV-AT-LAW.
Office in Reiber building, cornel Main
nn-1 E. Cunningham Sts, Entrance on
Main street
1 B. BREDIN,
TJ • ATTORNEY AT LAW.
Office on Main St. near Court Hons*
11 H. GOUCHER,
•1» ATTORNEY AT LAW.
Office In Wise bail dim;.
EH. NKGLEY
• ATTORNEY AT LAW.
Office In the Negley Building, West
Diamond.
WC. FINDLEY,
• ATTORNEY-AT-LAYV, AND
PENSION ATTORNEY.
Office on South aide of Diamond,
Bntler, Pa.
MISCELLANEOUS.
F. L. McQUISTION,
V. Civil. ENGINKKR AND SURVKYOR
Office near Court House.
LP. WALKER,
• NOTARY PCBI,IC,
BUTLKR,
Office with Berirmer, next door to P. O
BF. HILLIARD,
• GENERAL SURVEYING.
Mines and Land. County Surveyor.
R. F D. 49, West Snnbury, Pa.
L. 9. McJCJNKIN. IRA McJCN'KIN'
OEO. A. MITCHELL.
b S /WcJUNKIN & CO.,
Insurance 8c Real Estate
117 E Jefferson St.
SOTfcER,.- - - - VA
CATARRH
Y°RK\
ELY'S CREAM BALM
This Remedy Is n Specific,
Bure to Clvo Satisfaction.
GIVES RELIEF AT ONCE.
It cleanses, soothes, heals, and protects the
diseased membrane. It cures Catarrh and
drives away a Cold in the Head quickly.
Restores the Senses of Taste and Smell.
JCasy to nso. (Contains no injurious drugs.
Applied into the nostrils and absorbed.
Large Siz<\ f>o r r rits at Druggists or by
mail; Trial Size, 10 cents by mail.
ELY BROTHERS, &6 Warren St., New York.
BUTLER, PA., THURSDAY, MARCH 16, 1906.
Rich Man, ,
Poor Man!
ay KLITII GORDON
CopyrifiKi. 1904, by K.
Before they reached tLe til st 1 til go
overlooking Sausalito u mist like float
ing globules of crushed pe::rl rolled
noiselessly through tlie fissures of the
bills and blotted out the village, the
bay and the towers aud chimneys of
San Francisco —in other words, the
world. In the damp air the girl's hair
curled more distractingly than ever.
Never had he seen it when it framed
the low forehead in so bewildering
an arabesque of rings and curves and
waves.
"You look rather swell yourself," she
laughed in response to his eloquent
glance of approval. "Knickers aud a
Norfolk cap and the Jacket aren't half
bad on you. Taken In connection with
your cleft chin." she went on. throw
ing her head back aud screwing up her
eyes critically, "they make you a very
preseutable youth iudeed."
"We won't talk about that," was the
terse reply. "This walk to Point Boui
ta has an object."
She opened her eyes wide.
"Certainly," she assented politely.
"Point Bonita, for instance. If It has
any other object," she went on sternly,
"if you're going back to that old sub
ject, I won't go a step farther."
By this time they were moving in the
midst of a cloud.
It was his turn to be innocent
"You mean —oh." with a fine imita
tion of Impatience, "doesn't a girl ever
forget it if a fellow h;ts once happened
to fancy himself in love with her and
said so?"
The pink of the girl's cheeks—it had
the soft, furred look that is responsi
ble for the slang adjective "peachy"—
deepened suddenly, unaccountably. Out
of the tall of his eye the youth observed
this Interesting fact with cruel glee,
reflectlug with a pang that he should
have chosen diplomacy as a vocation
instead of engineering.
"You should forgive and forget the
sins of my youth," he resumed. "You
know you Insisted that you would al
ways be the best of friends, and that's
what I need now!"
"You change quickly enough, I must
say!" she remarked with some heat.
"It Isn't six months since"—
"Since what?" he challenged. But she
turned away and did not reply, while
the walls of mist lazily closed in nearer
and nearer.
"What do you want to tell me?" she
questioned at last in an oddly subdued
manner. He did not answer imme
diately, but swung on ahead of her In
the narrow path as if he were making
a way for her through the mist. So he
had got over his love for her. She felt
n shuddering sense of desolation. Still,
she argued, she could scarcely have
supposed he would go on caring, es
pecially since she had explained to him
with judicial carefulness that she must
marry a man witli money on account
of her mother and the younger girls.
Strangely enough, though she had
pictured herself as married to another,
there had always been a somber, in
teresting figure hovering In the back
ground of that picture, one to whom
she meant to be so kind, so gentle, so
all sweet, that his regret should become
like a beautiful, sad song—to be wept
over aud enjoyed. Aud now the brute
was asking her to "forgive and forget"
that he had ever told her that he loved
her!
They had reached the summit of a
hill, and he proposed that they sit down
upon a convenient bowlder to rest be
fore attempting the next one. Ap
parently her silence was unnoticed.
"V'oll see, fate's been telling off my
buttons lately," he began In a business
like tone, "and the decree is that It has
got to be money!"
"What do you mean?"
"Rich woman, poor woman, beggar
woman, squaw," he elucidated, touch
ing the buttons on his jacket, "and the
lot falls to rich woman every time. It
seems u beastly thing to think of—
marrying for money. 1 would be a cad
enough to do It, but the tiling is that
there's a girl—a mighty line girl—and
I really—l—hang It, I like her! But
how am I to tell whether It's the real
thing or whether Jjer money has some
thing to do with it? You see, there are
reasons why I should have money right
away, long before I can hope to gain
It by my own efforts. The governor is
breaking down, and his affairs are in
bad shape, and there are the two kids
and mother to provide for."
The girl's heart was sinking as the
mercury does in a failing temperature.
All the joy of living seemed to be ooz
ing away through her finger tips, leav
ing her cold and Inert. lie turned to
ward her curiously.
"Of course you don't think I'd con
sider such a thing if I were not forced
to it by duty!" lie went on fervently.
"And I came f.i you because I thought
you'd understand, because circum
stances are forcing you into the same
thing. They say you're going to mar
ry Bradshaw. You'll be a rich wom
an and a happy one, I hope; but, wheth
er you are or not, you will have done
vour duty by the family. That will be
four consolation, and that's why I
come to you in my difficulty. What do
you think—can I decently ask the girl
to marry me? Remember, I like her,
but I'm not sure I love her!"
The fog, which had seemed about to
crush them softly a few moments be
fore, was now falling back, but they
were still in a remote world. With the
very sight of habitations cut off from
their view It was hard to believe In the
reality of purple and fine linen, horses
and carriages and gold. Suddenly the
scales fell from the girl's eyes, though
she realized with a pang that It was
too She had put the only thing
that mattered out of her life as
thoughtlessly and carelesifly as she
would toss a pebble from her path.
She had not even realized what she
was doing. Down below, where the
Bradshaw fortune cast Its glamour,
everything had looked different. She
had thought that with money all things
else must fall Into place. But here,
cut off from the world, the Bradshaw
wealth seemed less than nothing and
love the only thing. .
Farther and farther the fog receded,
showing thin In spots, but still con
cealing the valley beneath them. But
she was very sure now. Even when
the world assumed its old proportions
it would be the same. She had had
her lesson. The peachblow tint was
gone from her cheeks, and her eyes
were grave and unglrllsh as she spoke.
"I'm not going to marry Grant Brad
shaw," she said steadily, "nor any
other man whom I don't love. So you
see I can't help you after nil; I don't
think I could evpr i4*ully have meant
to do such a thing"—
Her voice broke, and the eyes that
had been looking into his with a plead
ing stronger than unv words suddenly
filled with tears.
"I'm such a silly," she explained
rather unevenly, "but 1 hate to be ac
cused of such a thing. Aud 1 think
you ought to be ashamed. Jack! You're :
a man and you can make money for
yourself at:d"—
But he seemed to be paying no at
tention to her words. With deep ab
sorption he was naming the buttons
of her coat as if he were consulting an j
oracle.
"Rich man, poor man, beggar man, 1
chief," he chanted. "Doctor, lawyer,
merchant, thief. Rich man, poor man!"
he stopped, looking anxiously for an
other button, but there was none there.
"You see!" she gibed triumphantly.
"Perhaps you've made a mistake in
your own case too." Aud, with a de
mure face, she counted the buttons.
"Poor woman!" she announced, and
then something in his glance brought
the bloom back to her face and her
head went down upon his shoulder.
The thin places in the fog gave way.
leaving two jagged spaces that framed
a beautiful picture. Dowu below the
sun was shining on the blue waters
of the bay, on the trees and hedges,
among which nestled the houses of the
town. The girl caught her breath. She
felt as if it were a benediction, a revela
tion of the peace of the years to come.
"But what about our families?" she
asked In a troubled voice when the
mist had blotted out the pictures once
more. He laughed joyously.
"See that?" be said, holding out a
brawny right arm.
Fact anil Fiction.
When the celebrated John Tlmbs of
anecdote fame was subeditor of a Lon
don newspaper he one day commission
ed one of the staff to accompany the
hop pickers in Kent and to write for
the Journal an absolutely veracious ac
count of his experiences.
The faithful scribe to whom the task
was intrusted performed his Job with
scrupulous care, and, attired as a hop
picker, he spent a whole week among
his temporary comrades.
In due course he returned to the ed
itorial office and produced his copy.
Timbs read a portion of It and then
burst into a great rage.
"This won't do at all. Mr. Smith,"
he exclaimed furiously. "Surely you
must know this is far too coarse for
insertion in our paper."
"I was afraid that might be the
case," calmly replied the reporter. "Do
you think this Is better?" Saying this,
he handed Timbs another manuscript.
Timbs perused it and was delighted.
"The very thing; charming!" he ex
claimed.
"Ah, I thought you would like that!"
said Smith. "That Is what I wrote
before I set out."—London Standard.
"Barnlnflc the Water."
Some readers will remember the spir
ited account given by Scott in "Guy
Mannering" of the form of salmon fish
ing that used to be known as "burning
the water." It was u favorite amuse
ment in England, Scotland and Wales.
The practice U no longer legal aud can
be indulged In only at the risk of pen
alties, with the disgrace which at
taches to things denounced as -un
sportsmanlike. Torches were used, and
tlie salmon were spenre<l by the thrust
of a weapon having barbed prongs,
called a leister. Scott again may be
quoted for his description of the spear
ing of salmon from horseback in the
Solway. The Tweed, which was the
river of his lifelong affections, was
one of the worst sufferers from "burn
ing the water" in the days when it
was permitted, aud it was computed
lhat thousands of salmon were annual
ly taken by this form of capture. Tlie
water may be "burned" even now here
and there, and in Wales a few years
ago there was a short lived revival of
the practice.
Mllo nf Creton.
Of the wonderful athletes of nil ages
Milo of Creton Is perhaps the most
known. He once ran a mile with an
ox on his shoulders, then with a blow
of his fist killed the beast and ate it
in one day. The strongest man could
not take from Mllo a pomegranate
which lie held between his two lingers.
He could break by contracting his veins
and muscles a tyrd tied around his
forearm. One day, being in a house
with some pupils of Pythagoras, the
ccllin/; threatened to fall in, but Milo
supported the column on which it rest
ed, thus glvlnx his friends time to es
cape. His death is well known. He
tried to tear asunder the trunk of a
tree, but his hands got pinched In the
wood, and, being unable to disengage
them, he perished, devoured by wild
beasts.
ilnlf or Two-ttilrd*.
The bishop of Kensington at a prize
distribution recently told of a case in
which a boy got the better of the ex
aminer. "Suppose," asked the exam
iner, "I offered you half an orange and
two-thirds of an orange, which piece
would you take?" "Please, sir, the
half!" shouted the lad. "Stupid boy!"
exclaimed the examiner. "I shall put
a black mark against you for that."
Subsequently a deputation of scholars
waited on the examiner to convince him
that he was wrong. "Why am I
wrong?" he inquired. "Because Tom
my does not like oranges at all," was
the conclusive answer.—St. James' Ga
zette.
lVrnipapem,
It has been calculated that taking
the population of the whole world,
there Is one newspaper to every 82,(500
persons. The United States supports
12,500 newspapers, of which 1,000 are
dallies, these being rouud figures. Oor
muny has ft,500 Journals, of which 800
are dally. England takes second place
In the European record with 3,000
newspapers, of which 809 are dally.
France has nearly the same number.
Gxcanv Ma ill- F./mj'.
"Why do sa many actors Insist OD
playing Shakespeare?"
"I suspect," answered Mr. Storining
ton Barnes, "that It's because they
can take all the credit if they succeed
and blame the public's luck of literary
tnsle If they fall."—Washington Star.
Not lp to llliu.
"Yes," said the fireman, "there wero
two men In the building playing chess,
and one of them Is in the ruins yet.
We couldn't get him out."
"Why, how was that?"
"He Insisted that it wasn't his
move."
Stnrtliiß n lion,
Orayce—They tell me she's not n bit
pretty. What docs *he look like, any
how? Gladys Well, my dear, she re
sembles you as much as anybody I
know.—Louisville Courier-Journal.
Cnlirenkakle.
"Now, yo* lookey heali, yo' George,
(Joan' yo' fall down an' break dem
nigs."
"I couldn't break uui nohow. Ixry Is
Plymouth Hock aigs, dey Is."
It Is possible to repeal a law, but not .
a banana.—Philadelphia Record.
In an Opera j
Box
j!
By Lilian C. Paschal
|, Copuitfiht. 1904. bu Lilian C. Pischil j
The great hotel facing the park was
an obelisk of light flecks. Motor ears
came and went noisily under the wide
porte cochero.
Back of the large hostelry and across
a narrow alley a white girlish face
banked with pillows looked out wist
fully from the one narrow window of
a third lloor back at these evidences of
life and gayety, listening to the or
chestra.
Suddenly the music burst into a wild
tropical air from "Carmen." a very revel
of life and youth and lusty, red blood
ed joy. The Invalid buried her tired
eyes in the soft pillows, and her thin
shoulders shook. Shaken by the tem
pest of sobs, a crutch that had been
leaning Hgalnst the bedside rattled to
the floor.
"Oh, I can bear their old ragtime
things without a shiver," she cried,
"but the opera airs—they break my
heart! And now I shall never sing
them again—l know I shan't!"
The incoherent cry went straight
through the open window like a wing
ed arrow, across the alleyway In the
grand hotel, and lodged deep In the sick
heart of a listener there. Its note of
suffering and aching longing needed no
Interpreter. That is a universal lan
guage understood alike in palace and
tenement.
John Wixton had been staring mood
ily out of the darkened shadows of his
unlighted room into the still darker
shadows of a future that looked
gloomy indeed to his usually careless,
sunny eyes. He had been hard hit —
there was no doubt of that—and the
girl's refusal of him had cut deep. He
had been so sure of her—too sure, per
haps—but he had thought he could not
be mistaken In that warm light In her
eyes that had set his heart on fire all
these weeks.
"The light that lies in woman's eyes
and lies and lies and lies!" he
sneered miserably, sitting there In the
dark. "Curse the whole sex, anyway,
and their deceitful wiles!" And his
clinched hands thnmped the window
sill fiercely. He had mooned over her
like a maundering idiot, he told himself
hotly, and now she was engaged, so
her mother had told him the last time
he called, to Billy Lunders and his mil
lions—principally the latter, be thought
Lord! There was that beastly cban
sonnette from "Carmen" again—could he
never escape the thing?—the song that
breathed so horribly of her in every
seductive note. She had worn a red
rose in her hair, too, that night he first
met her with the Van Lorns. lie could
smell that rose now.
Tonight "Carmen" was on the bill
again. He recalled dully that he had
the same box for this performance, In
tending to take her and show her he
remembered that first night BO long
ago. She had said men always forgot
the dates a woman remembered. He
had meant to tell ber of his loving lit
tle surprise that evening. Was It only a
week ago? How could he ever bear to
hear an opera again? Curse It. He
wotlld get out of this sickening old New
York and go west—to Chicago—any
where.
"These opera airs—they break my
heart!" broke In the sobbing cry from
the window across the alley. John
raised bis head to listen. "Same here,
kid," he muttered heavily. "It's that
lame girl—poor little beggar! She does
have a devil of a time of it, lying there
all day with hot water bags and things
around her. It's a shame!"
"I want to l>e back there on the
stage again," went on the voice, "sing
ing with the rest of the chorus. I
was a village maiden in 'Carmen,' you
know, Mrs. Beebe." To the conscious
pride in this already well known fact
there came an indistinct murmur of
consolation from the dark Interior of
the little room.
"And maybe some day I might have
been a Sembrich or a Melba. my own
self—the master snid so—and now my
back's hurt, and I'll never sing again.
I know it! If I could only go Just
once and henr It all again I think
maybe I could bear It better, but to
be penned In here all the time like a
rat with the snappers of a trap caught
over his back—it's too" The rest was
lost In the infolding pillow.
The man in the darkened window
across the way suddenly stood up,
turned on the light and squared his
shoulders like a soldier ready for
marching. "I'll do It!" lie said grimly.
"I'll not run away like a coward. I'll
face this thing out. I've got to go
through it some time, and I might as
well begin now. I'll go right to that
same box and Unlit it out. And, what's
more, I'm going to take that child
along. She'll probably look a fright,
and people will stare, but bang the
people!"
He took his hat and overcoat and
hurried from the room. At the office
he stopped to give an order for an auto
cab.
Twenty minutes inter he was bowling
toward Broadway with his strange lit
tle compnulon, still breathless over the
wondrous angel In evening clothes
whose determination had carried all
opposition before him. Even the fat
landlady had boon subdued Into defer
ence and helped to dress her quickly so
as not to keep the young gentleman
waiting.
Wlxton glanced down at her thin lit
tle face, sharpened by suffering; at her
two crutches and her simple white
frock. To his surprise, she appeared
tastefully gowned.
She told hlni quite simply, with a lit
tle pathetic quaver In her voice, about
her ambition to be u great singer; how
Ihe had fallen through n trapdoor left
curelessly open by the stage hands one
night after the opera was over and had
been In the charity ward of a hospital,
where tboy had not seemed able to
cure lier; how she could walk only a
little way without hurting.
When they reached the opera house
the first net was nearly over.
Wlxton gathered up her slight form
and strode up the wide stairway as If
his burden were a baby. At the door of
the box he halted. It was slightly
ajar. "Sold the other seats?" he ques
tioned of the usher.
"Only one to a lady," answered that
worthy ami volunteered further tho
whispered Information that she was a
queer one—"came with a party In the
fourth box farther down and came out
111 and went away. After a bit she
came back with a ticket for a seat In
this one."
When Wlxton ushered his charge Into
the box he found, to his surprise, that
the place was unllgbted. Tho curtain
had Just climed on the first act, and the
solitarj' occupant was shrinking into
the farthest corner as though seeking
to avoid observation.
John reached out to pre** the electric
button and turned in the blaze of light
to confront the woman who had re
fused hliu the week Itefore. His lips
• tightened, aud his face went white.
'•Eunice! You here?"
The woman turned a lo.vi, k ..ie face
up to him entreatlngly without speak
ing. This unlooked for contretemps
bad destroyed ber poise, woman of the
world though she was. and left her as
excited and embarrassed as a school
girl. There were traces of tears about
| the dark eyes, hollow from sleepless
ness. Her soft white throat worked in
the stress of emotion, and her bosom
rose and fell pantlngly.
| At last she found her voice. It was
low and tremulous, and at the thrilling
sweetness of it the man's heavy heart
pounded like a mad thing behind bis
Immaculate shirt front.
"Jack," she whispered, "If you don't
forgive mc and love me I shall die. I
never dreamed till mamma made me
send yon away how dreadfully I cared,
and I never was engaged to Billy Laun
ders at all. I couldn't be—not if the
whole family rose up to slay me."
The orchestra began the overture to
the next act. The wild, gypsy motif of
the immortal opera rose and bathed
them In its melting torrents of love
made into music. The little cripple was
leaning over the edge of the box wait
ing breathlessly for the curtain to rise
on the familiar scene she loved.
"Jack, darling—hear it! That music
has been killing me till you came! Do
you remember that night we"—
John reached out an audacious thumb
and pressed the button on the wall. As
the box was enveloped in darkness he
crushed her close in his arms, unable to
say one word.
On their way home In the carriage,
when Eunice had been told the little
cripple's story, she laughed tenderly In
her new found joy, so nearly lost, and,
with one Jeweled hand In John's and
the other caressing the young girl's
pale cheek, said with a confidence that
the future proved not unfounded:
"I shall take care of her, her voice,
her future and her back. I know a
great doctor who can straighten out
this little one's tangles, even as she
has been the means of unsnarling the
dreadful knot in my web of fate."
Barry Snlllvan and the Amatear.
The famous tragedian, Barry Sulli
van, took his art so seriously that it
was very seldom Indeed that he perpe
trated a joke on the stage, althougn
when away from the theater he was
one of the most humorous of men. On
one occasion, however, Sullivan could
not resist the temptation of giving an
apt retort to an amateur who, as Bat
cliff to bis Bichard 111., had quite
overlooked the necessity of committing
his words to memory.
"During the early part of the trag
edy," says Mr. Bobert M. Slllard In his
"Life of Barry Sullivan," "this too
confident amateur strutted agreeably
and elicited applause from his friends
In the front In the tent scene he
screwed up his energies, and when
Sullivan, as Richard, started (. .ai his
knees at the conclusion of his com
ments on his dream, exclaiming,
'Who's there?' Batcliff in his excite
ment stammered out the answer:
"' "Tls I, my lord The early village
cock'—and then abruptly stopped, hav
ing apparently forgotten the next line—
L e., 'Hath twice done salutation to the
morn.'
"Sullivan surveyed the stultified as
pect of bis officer for a few seconds
with a sardonic grin, as if enjoying bis
agony, and nt length growled out in
an audible tone:
" 'Why don't you crow, then?""
Knrtarlns s Cheerful Spirit.
Lucky was the patient in Cedarvllle
who could secure the services of Aunty
Bond as his nurse, but be must make
up his mind that while all his wants
would receive due attention and he
would have a fair amount of coddling
there were some things in which be
could not count on having his own way.
"Now, you Just take that look off
your face, won't you?" she half coaxed,
half commanded a man who was re
covering from pneumonia. "You aren't
half as sick as you were a month ago.
Let your thoughts dwell on that, and
let 'em dwell on this: There's lots o*
folks outdoors a-falling from the tops
o' buildings and a-getting run Into and
rer by automobiles and contraptions
Of all sorts, besides those that are
yielding to temptation o' various kinds
and being sent to jail and then to states
prison. And while all these dreadful
things are going on outside, what is
happening to you? You are getting
well at home, in peace and plenty, and,
what's more, in as handsome a walnut
bedstead as there Is In all Cedarvllle.
"You let your mind dwell on these
things a minute, and then you turn
over and go to Bleep."
TWENTY YEARS' SLEEP.
Rip Van Winkle's Or.se Mny Hare
Been More Pact Tlinn Fletton.
Even superficial students of folklore
know that the tale of Ulp Van Winkle,
supposing that Irving really heard it in
the old Dutch settlements along tho
Hudson, Is by no means peculiar to
that district, but is found in some form
or other all over the world. In other
words, the idea that It Is possible for a
human being to survive in a state of
unconsciousness for a very long time
would seem to be either a universal
fancy or to be founded on some actual
experience.
Dr. Lancereaux in the Paris Bulletin
of tho Academy of Medlclno reports
such an experience, the case of a wo
man who actually did, so far as intelli
gent consciousness was concerned,
sleep almost exactly twenty years.
The patient, of a neurotic and hyster
ical family, had always been delicate
and nervous. On May 31, 1883, she
was severely frightened and fell Into
violent hysteria, which after twenty
four hours passed Into unconscious
ness. In this condition, interrupted ev
ery month or six weeks by sudden con
vulsive attacks, she lay until May 23,
1003, kept alive entirely by Injections
of nourishment.
On May 23 she was seized with hys
teria similar to that at the beginning
of her sleep, and the next day there
was another convulsion. On May 25
she began definitely to recover con
sciousness and by the next day was
able to speak intelligently of events
before her sleep and could also remem
ber from day to day since her waking.
Of happenings during her sleep, sucb
os the drawing of some of her teeth,
she knew nothing. On the evening of
May 28 she died peacefully.
Tho particular case is of Interest
chiefly to the medical profession, but
the genernl fact of survival In uncon
sciousness for a vary long time shows
how such talea as those of the Sleeping
Beauty, the Seven Sleepers of Epheaus
and Ulp Van Winkle, to mention only
the most familiar examples, could hovo
originated from actual experience and
observation. Very likely such cases oc
curred more than once.
"Truth Is stranger than Action," runs
the old saying. It Is undoubtedly more
correct to say that fiction is merely en
larged. reduced, distorted nnd other
wise decorated fact and that without
a fact within general knowledge from
which to start Action could not exist.
It Is entirely safe to conjecture that at
some prehistoric period, sleeping not
No, 11,
out of doors, of course, bat under shef
ter, and for many weeks and probably
months, if not years, there was a Rlfc
Van Winkle.—Chicago Inter Ocean.
The BUI Was Sot In the Senate.
One of Senator Frye's scintillation#
as presiding officer, when the Philip
pine bill was near its passage In ths
senate, should not be lost to the world.
Such measures, till perfected, are con
sidered in committee of the whole, not
In the senate, as the term goes. The
distinction is of little popular sig
nificance, but of great parliamentary,
Importance.
Senator Bacon, wishing to make *
certain motion, was Informed that thai
bill was not in the senate, but in com
mittee of the whole.
"Oh, I thought we were in the sen
ate," replied Mr. Bacon.
"We are in the senate," Mr. Frye re
sponded, "but the bill is not"—Wash
ington Post.
Henry VIII. and Padding*.
31uff King lial, otherwise Henry.
VIII. of England, was exceedingly fond
of puddings. At one time he gave a
certain Mistress Cornwallis a house in
Aldgute for herself and her heirs for
ever "in reward of fine puddings." la
King Henry VIII.'s private accounts
occur again and again entries of his
rewards to different housewives fo«
bringing him puddings. A typical in
stance runs thus: "Item. The sams
day paid to the wife that made ths
king podlngs at Hampton corte, vis.
vlljd." This would be about f 1.75, bu#
Its value was much greater when ths
entry was made. This love for "fins
puddings" explains much in the fa
miliar rotund figure of King Hal.
A Matter of Gender.
The English language Is supposed to
be very simple In the matter of gen
ders, but foreigners who triumphantly
handle questions of gender of Inani
mate things In their own language*
often have their difficulties with ths
English. A Frenchman recently cam®
to grief over his English. "I fear I
cockroach too much upon your tlmo,
madame," he remarked politely to his
hostess. "En-croach, monsieur," she
smilingly corrected him. He threw up
his hands In despair. "Ah, your Eng
lish genders!" he sighed.
OLD JAPANESE ARMORERS.
•trans* Legends of the Temper and
Keenness of Their SYrorila.
The era "of the sword In Japan has
given place to the rifle, but long before
this period the exquisite art of the ori
ental armorer was lost. We are told of
a blade composed of 4,194,304 layer*
of steel and polished so that the finest
European polishing pastes only serve to
scratch It. Few people have any Idea
of the art used in fashioning these
weapons. They doubtless appreciate
the beauty of the sheath, handle aud
guards, but to them a sword Is a piece
of steel made to cut, and that is all.
When the Japanese armorer forged a
sword he did it as if it were a sacred
thing, and indeed it was in his eyes.
He forged the metal tenderly, with spe
cial tools for each operation. He tem
pered It with processes as secret as the
confidences of the gods. He had his
methods of securing in the metal most
mnmlom «>IOT effects trad Of pTOOUC
ing markings from an imitation of
which the most expert armorers of Eu
rope would recoil in despair. Strange
legends are told of these old Japanese
armorers. Masa-Mune, a gentle smith
of the fourteenth century, could let fall
a hair of the hard shelled adzukl bean
across the edge of one of his swords,
and it would be split in two, or, like
Begin, he would stand the weapon up
right in a little stream of water and
let the current carry along a little scrap
of paper, which, as it touched the edge
of tho blade, would float away in
halves.
Of a different character was the
fierce old Mura-Masa, who forged
swords to the cry of "Tenka tulra!"
(War to men!) and quenched each one
in the warm blood of a fresh human
victim. This so inspired the steel with
endless thirst that it would cleave iron
like bronze and bronze like a melon in
the search of human life. If left too
long in its scabbard it possessed its
wearer with a fierce desire to kill, and
If drawn only for display it would hash
the fingers of the one who wielded it,
be he ever so careful. So terrible wai
the slaughter of these seinlhuman
blades that their use was prohibited by
one of the Tokugawa slioguns, aud
thereafter they were forced to iungulsh
in the sword racks. Minor smiths were
content to pile up copper coins and
display an edge unruffled after cleav
ing the stack or to cut through a half
inch copper bar, but the great master*
smiled at such Jests. The same blade
which in their case could split a hair
or divide a Bilk scarf which a gentle
breeze wafted against it could slice the
iron or bronze like cheese.
The Horse and the Donkey.
The ancestors of the horse were ac
customed to roam over the plains,
where every tuft of grass or bush
might conceal an enemy waiting to
spring upon them. Under these cir
cumstances they must often have saved
their lives by starting quickly back or
Jumping to one side when they came
without warning upon some strange
object. This is a habit which has not
left the animal even after long years
of domestication.
On the other hand, the donkey Is de
scended from animals which lived
among the hills, where there were prec
ipices and dangerous declivities, and
from these conditions resulted his
slowness and sure footedness. His an
testors were not so liable to sudden at
tacks from wild leasts and snakes.
Besides, sudden and wild starts would
have been positively dangerous to them.
Consequently they learned to avoid the
very trick which has been so useful to
the horse. The habit of eutlng'thlstlee,
which is peculiar aloue to the donkey,
la also descended from these ancestors.
In tho dry, barren localities which they
iuhnblted there was often little food;
hence they learned to eat hard, dry
and even prickly plants when there
wus nothing else.
Compromises*
Charles—She Is suing her late em
ployer's estate for $.">0,000. Henry—On
what ground? Charles—On the ground
that on four different occasions ho
said to her, "We are having fine weath
er," with the accent on tho "we."—
Brooklyn Life.
A Brond Hint.
The Barber (lathering customer and
gazing out of window)—l tell you, sir,
the man who Bhavcs himself keeps tho
brend and butter out of some poor bar
ber's mouth. The Customer (fiercely) -
And Incidentally the lather out of his
own!— Puck.
A Bis Uorce,
Mrs. Newrich (back from the honey
moon in Switzerland)—Do you remem
ber, dear, that lovely gorge up In the
mountains? Mr. Newrich—l do. It
was the squarest meal I ever ate.
Self respect is the cornerstone of all
virtue.—Sir John Herschel.