VOL. XXXXII. >Trousers j / See dicplay of Trousers this week. ( ) Are you hard to fit? S i Are you hard to please in patterns? C ) Do you wear a stout, slim or regular? J Do you want a nice peg top trouser? f > Do you want to save money? ( • Do you want the best Trouser at the lowest price? y Do you want the trouser that is made right in / N every way— style, pattern, fit, sewing, cat, weai? and? \ at the right price? if so consider the above questions \ \ and find the right place. J \ There is ouly one right place to look for and that is C j Douthett & Graham. j S INCORPORATED. f i Rickety ] I w* IK Rockers. ] { Now that porch time is here, you'd better get m m the extra rocker that was so conspicuous by its F< absence last Summer. Sitting on the railing is >1 \ tiresome before summer is over. 4 '{ And be sure you get a rocker that is right. >1 A We've none of the weak-backed — knock-kneed kind < f —but for $2.50 we can send you one that's like the ► m Brooklyn Bridge —made to stand several times the i < weight likely to be put on it. Lots of kinds at lots > ► of prices, but they're all handsome, and they'll all n a wear. V % There's a lot of your furniture here. That Is < 4lt will he yours—when you see It. ' 1 COME IN AND COMPARE. < H BROWN & CO. 5 No. 136 North Main St., Butler. > I Must Move but Not to I I Quit Business. I ■ In order to save large storage on Pianos and small goods. ■ ■ Must leave where I am by June first. Hj ■ You get the benefit. H I Pianos that retail for S6OO go for S3OO. ■ I Others in proportion. n I Small Goods at You own Price,! I The Must Go. I ■ Sheet Music, anything you want ordered,! wiil get it at cost. I I Come and take advantage of this sale and save money. I I "Pianos from $25 to S3OO. I I , Organs at any old price. I I Cash—or credit —if good. B I NEWTON, I I "The Piano Man," ■ I 317 South Main St. Open Evenings, p VENDETTA BOY No. 35266. Is a beautiful bay stallion 16i hands high and weighs 1280 pounds. He ia ft model trotting bred carriage and coach horse, very attractive and high acting and has shown 2:20 speed at the trot. Send for tabulated pedigree and particulars. $15.00 to Insure BRILLIANT, No. 27865. Is a beautiful dark dapple grey Percheron Stallion, will weigh 1800 lbs. in flesh and has proven himself a fine and sure breeder. Terms:—slo.oo to Insure. Breeders should see these horses before breeding as they are two of the finet-t stallions of their respective breeds to be fonnd anywhere. ALONZO McCANDLESS, Franklin Twp., Euclid, R. F. D. 45| Advertise in the CITIZEN. THE BUTLER CITIZEN. I THE MODERN STORE.— — Fifty Cents On The Dollar. A Silk Sacrifice Sel dom Seen. Nearly 1000 Yards to Select From. Fashionable Millinery at Bargain Prices. SALE BEGINS WEDNESDAY, JUNE 7th. A MASTER STKOKK. By a clever deal we obtained through a large importing house nearly one thousand yards of elegant silks, worth from 75e to fl.oo per yard. This extraor dinary purchase comprises nice neat patterns in Blue, Brown, Black, etc. laneta>. Foulards, etc. Every Yard to GO At 48c. This is a grand opportunity to buy a silk -own at half price ;tnd to' have a selection that is seldom offered at any price. A large variety of patterns to select from, many suitable for childrens' and misses' dresses. j A MILLINEKY OFFER TO MATCH THE SILK SALE. j Get a new hat for your new silk dress. Special prices on all trimmed hats this Choice of any trimmed hat in stock that sold at to $10.00—54.98. Mark The Date When Sale Begins EISLER-MARDORF COHPANY, SOUTH MAIH STREET J QOl SKf 'l "I Samples sent on request. OPPOSITE HOTEL ARLINGTON. BUTI.ER. PA. s Footwear. @ M A Grand Display of Fine Footwear in Kj £4 All the Latest Spring Styles. rJ | A JRS'M We are showing many F# JXMM JML iretty styles in Ladies' Fine h 1 ,fwk "'hoes and Oxfords at pi ices k » [4 bargains in Misses' jp i Jm Children's Shoes. rA ii!® Large stock of Men's and , ; jSf Boys' Fine Shoes and Ox- M f ° rdS many Btyi2S ' n YA li /jfir Repairing promptly done. [| JOHN BICKEL \ M 128 S. Main St., BUTLER, PA. * ■toWl&r men IAJ | k>7 || Won't buy clothing for the purpose of Ij h < (j X!| 11 II spending money. They desire to get the I iTf 1 At // /'? best possible results of the money expended. I 1 / fi. / I T,Wf) IJj Those who buy custom clothing have a *- IP j' j j| : Jjjf right to demand a fit, to have their clothes /Mi* I X<r /yA I 11 correct in style and to demand of the / Jj!. O'W, | seller to guarantee everything. Come to jfjfty; ; *"i us and there will be n jibing lacking. I (fwf !'Hv ,V'' ' i 3 have just received a large stock of Spring : « Summer suitings iu the latest styles, ~ \ \ ife ll 5 shades and colors. \Bm / G. F. KECK, lyyt merchant TAILOR, \J_.4J 3 142 N. Main St., Butler, Pa The Butler Business College Xew buildings, new and splendid equipment, a strictly first-claes and up to date school that ACTUALLY PLACES ITS GRADUATES. A few of the hundreds of prominent concerns that employ them: The Butler County National Bank, Guaranty Safe Deposit & Trust Co., The Farmers' National Bank, Butler Savings & Trust Co., John Berg & Co., Standard Steel Car Co., Standard Plate Glass Co., B. R. & P. R. it. Co., B. & O. R. R. Co., Penn'a R R. Co . etc., of Butler. Pullman Palace Car Co., Westinghouse Electrical Mfg. Co., National Tube Co., Union Steel Co., Jones & Laughlin Steel Co., Germaina National Bank. Bopgs & Buhl, Pittsburg Dry Goods Co., etc., etc.. Pittsburg "A WORD TO THE WISE IS SUFFICIENT." Catalogue and circulars mailed on application. MAY ENTER ANY TIME. Fall term opens Sept. 4, 1905, A. F. REGAL, Principal, Butler, Pa. v fc ifi tj-f Do More Work, j| | Than any other Washer® 1 on IBar ' iel ' I * J. Q. &W. CAMPBELL, 1 BUTLER, PA. | •J? We take pleasure 111 announcing to tile public that we have | REMOVED * & OUR /HlfcblNEßy ESTABIaISH/HENT TO 3r 148 SOOTH MAIN STR66T. 3? ttf Located in the Heart of the Millinerv Centre, And are now open to the public with a lar-je showing of | Spring and Summer Millinery f s|i comprising all the latest effects for the Sprinsr s.-ason. Exolnsivf?styles •+• ;U in Ready-to-wear and Tailored Streets Hats An entire new stork of li" y nobby and OP-to . tliiiril.s I .ra: 1 :Ivors. « 3? and soliciting yonr fatnre patronage, we remain respectfimy, I Rockensteln's I j|j New Location, 148 S. Main St- Nest to Bichty's Bakery |f BUTLEB, PA., THyRSDAY, JUNE 8, ISOS. 1 The Witch of 1 i|| Cragenstone 1 !3ff By ANITA CLAY MUNOZ, El . it.jL Author of "In Love and Truth" Cwvihl. 1908. by Aalt. C<-v Mcnoz •TfffiiH tiniiti tf*?? tr? t ?? t? tyvvtyvvf ?▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼• CHAPTER VIII. WITH tlie slanting rays of the afternoon sun falling full upon her, Margaret May land rode up the mountain path that led to the Mayland farm, making with her erlmnou riding habit and yellow hair h brilliant speck of color Against the dark background of the green trees and foliage. Her horse stepped slowly, the relu falling loose on its neck, and Margaret, pale faced and dejected, rode along listlessly. A lark calling his mate sent strong, sweet notes across the forest; a busy squirrel, disturbed by the advent of horse and rider, ran chattering up the trunk of a tree, and the little spring brook bub bled across the mountain road and splashed and sparkled in the sunlight, but Margaret, lost in her sad reverie, ».xie on unheeding with bowed figure i nd drooping head. Elsbeth, who for an hour past had been peering anxiously out of a win dow that overlooked the roadway, spy ing her young charge at the gates, threw open the door at her approach with a great show of cheerful activity. "Enter, pretty, an' rest thyself." she cried as Margaret alighted from the horse and threw the reins to old Giles. Then, lifting her eyes in 'mute de spair to Elsbeth'a face, Margaret came toward the house. "Thy tea Is brewed, and the hot cakes that thou likest are covered, keeping warm for tlice on the hearth stone," Elsbeth announced. Margaret entered languidly, carry lag her jeweled riding whip, her heavy skirts trailing after her as she came. "I care not to eat," she said sadly. Thou, as if unable to conceal her dis appointment or to contain her suffer ing, she cried out brokenly: "Elsbeth, another day most gone and Godfrey hath not come. An' wander where I will I can get no word of him. Mine eyes are strained with looking down the road that leads from London, and my heart aches near to bursting with loneliness and apprehension. Three weeks last Sunday since I received his missive." Her riding whip fell to the floor with a thud as she sank into a chair, cover ing up her white face with her hands. "Elsbeth," sho said at last to the woman who stood before her in dumb sympathy, "hast ever thought that God frey, reckless in his haste to see me, did attempt to ride up the mountain In that fearful storm and—God's pity on me!—was lost?"' "Tut, tut, sweetheart!" Elsbetli's voices was gay and full of courage to re assure her. "Sir Godfrey's but detain ed in Lunnon. Thou must keep in mind what a great lord he Is and that mayhap his business there is of vast Importance. 'Tis often, I warrant thee, that a man's heart is In 0110 place and perforce his body in another. Ila' done grieving, Margaret, and eat a little sup to strengthen thee. He'll come anon." Her young mistress did not move or raise her head. "Every night since the storm broke," she lamented, "I have worn my finest gowns to welcome Godfrey—at first with happy heart full of bright hope, then, after succeeding days of bitter disappointni' with less hope and some nilsgiv. But tonight"—she drew a sharp breath and put her hand over her heart—"l go to dress sick with terror and broken hearted with despair. Elsbeth," she cried, throwing up her head with a little tragic ges ture, "I tell thee Godfrey is ill or dead, for so perfect is my knowledge of his unselfish love for me that I know, un less fever dtd render him delirious or death bad stilled his tongue, he would not leave me pining here alone, suffer ing this frightful apprehension!" Weeping silently, she prepared to go up the stairs. Elsbeth was at her side in a moment. "Tut, tut, my bonny maid! Let not such fearsome thought beset thee," she urged earnestly. "Take heart, Mar garet. I promise thee—thine old Els beth who loves thee doth promise thee—that ere the sun goeth down 011 another day thy lover 'll hold thee in his arms." Margaret smiled sadly. "An I could believe thine oft repeated promises, good Elsbeth, my heart would not now have lost its lightness." At the top of the staircase she paus ed. "Oh, Elsbeth, 'tis easy for thee to be brave when 'tis not thy Godfrey who dotli not come!" she said. "But could thou really know what 'tis to wait wearily night after night for the man who hast thine whole heart thou would pity me." "I ha' ever advised thee, Margaret," the elder woman said, putting her arm about the girl comfortingly, "not to fasten too much affection on any man, else he prove not worthy of it and th.v joy be turned to sorrow." Margaret raissti her eyes, filled with deep reproach, to Elsbetli's face. "Such true love as doth exist be tween Godfrey and me," she said so berly; "such faith, such trust, thou with thine evil suspicions and grim fore bodings could have 110 thought ou. What knoweth thou of men and lovers, Elsbeth, that thou art always prating of their imperfections? "Jwere not kind of thee to toase me with thy maudlin talk when"—the tears in her eyes overflowed on her cheeks—"l am so beset ou every side." "Beset! 'Margaret, tell me. Who trou bles thee?" "I have told thee of my cousin Joslah's importunities, Elsbeth," she answered. "Thou knowest that his cold, persistent wooing doth fret me, and lately his advances have been so open and determined that, 1' truth, I have fear of him." She drew a sharp, shuddering breath. "Elsbeth, the sight of my cousin Mrikes a chill to my heart. I know that he Is an upright man and godly, but he tells me s» plainly of his firm determination to win me at all haz ards; there is something so cruel in his eyes and so relentless in his bear ing, that he sets me all a-tremble. At right I have evil dreams of him, and my waking hours are filled with bad presentiments. Oh, Elsbeth" —she I urst out crying bitterly-"pray God to send me Godfrey!" "There, there! Take off this riding dress. (hat hangs so heavily about thee"—Elsbeth stroked the bowed head gently—"and don thine azure muslin that Sir Qotlfrey loved to nee thae wear, bust reuiewlwr, bwest. uua in Paris when I was brushing thy hair that thou told me that thy l0T«r said thou wert like a dainty flow- Mr In that frock—a blue forgetmenot? AtJ the next day he sent tliee a bunch of the sweet flower*/" "Ah. remind me not of those happy days!" she replied tearfully. "Ah. laekaday, that I ever left mine aunt in Pari*!" Elsbeth, assisting her to remove her habit, said, with gentle sympathy, " 'Tis no wonder thou art nerveless and pining, bonny, in this raw moun tain climate that, I trow, doth not agree with thee, an' the sober ways of thy neighbors do pall upon thee." "Although it doth appear to thee, Els beth, that I have lost my bravery and strength. I have still courage to bear the heaviest ills of life, such as separa tion. poor health, grim poverty, i" truth, starvation; but I admit that such agony as the knowledge of harm to Godfrey would be a grief such as would kilf me." "Fie, fie on such grim thoughts! Cheer thee. Margaret," urged her com panion. For a moment the girl struggled with herself, then forcing a smile through the tears said more cheerfully, "The blue frock. Elsbeth, and my lace ber tha. Who doth dare say that thou and I have lost hope of brave Godfrey?" An hour later, just as the waning sun light was hovering over the pine cov ered peaks of Cragenstoue now dis tinctly defined against the rose tinted horizon, the young mistress of the May land farm, wearing a blue evening gown made in the French fashion, with the bodice cut low, surmounted by a lace bertha, her fair neck and arms bare and ruffled skirts made full and sweeping, walked out of the house and standing before the door looked down the roadway pensively with an air of Indecision. The soft breeze stirred the leaves of the foliage and the monotonous call of the whippoorwill could be heard over the trees of the forest, but no other sounds, such as the galloping of horses' feet, fell on the ears of the waiting, lonely woman. "Mayhap, an thou'lt walk a little down the road behind the hill, thou'lt meet Sir Godfrey," Elsbeth called from the window. Margaret turned to her sadly. "Elsbeth, an Godfrey comes not to night I shall know that he is lying helpless, ill; hath met foul play—or— or is dead. Tomorrow an he is not here I'll rouse the village, send mes sengers scurrying In all directions, for, prithee," with a little sob, "if the truth Is what I suspect, I had better die of that at once than linger with this suf fering, this slow suspense that is kill ing me." • "What foolish megrims'. Nay, cheer thee, Margaret," Elsbeth cried iu pro test at the dark views of her mistress. "I do protest Sir Godfrey's not the man to be outdone by any villainy. And who hereabout would be his enemy? He'll come anon." "So thou hast said before," Margaret replied, turning away listlessly, "an' meanest well, for thou dost love me. While yet It is day I'll stroll through the woody forest path to the village. Some new arrival at the inn perchance hath brought some news. I'll go, good Elsbeth." At about this time Josiah Taunston, with his broad brimmed hat pulled well down over his closely cropped hair, wearing his church going suit of black cloth and finely knit gray woolen stockings, cauie through the forest to ward the Mayland farmhouse to make an evening call on Its fair mistress. Unusual pallor slione on his stern coun tenance, and his eyes, cold and steely, looked almost wicked, so full were they of an expression of determination. Sud denly the sound of a light footstep fell ou his ears and, raising his head, he discerned through the foliage a glim mer of blue that caused him to draw his breath hard and his heart to stand still. Not seeing the approaching form on account of a turn in the path, Margaret advanced, her head, crowned by the wealth of hair wound high above it, held proudly, holding her long skirts well off the ground to avoid the briers in her way, disclosing as she .walked the big buckles and red heels of her little black shoes. "I give thee good even', cousin." The voice was sudden and loud. Margaret gave a wild shriek. Ilcr heart and soul eager for the presence of her lover, every nerve strained with listening and waiting for him, expect ing hini at every angle of the road, she was startled almost beyond hope of composure at this sudden voice. With her hands over her heart, panting, she fell against a tree and rested there. "I wot I frightened Uiee," he said, watching her furtively out of his small gray eyes. "What meanest thou," she cried an grily when she had recovered slightly, "that thou coniest like a great panther stealing through the forest? Couldst not give a body warning?" " 'Tis my fashion ever to walk easily, Margaret Mayland," he observed, "but i' truth 1 had no wish to frigliteu thee. Rather would I do that which would Craw thee nearer to me so that thou would heed my counsel and listen to words that others far older and wiser than thou have given ear to and" — Margaret, seeing that her cousin was Inclined to be oratorical and having no desire to remain iu the forest listening to words of censure and reproach that werw distasteful to her, with a quick motion stood erect before him, inter rupting his harangue by saying iu a quick, peremptory manner, "I have an errand iu the village, Josiah, and would be on my way." He stood In her pathway immovable. "Margaret, hear me. I do but coun sel thee for thy good." "Why should I heed thy counsel, prithee, and give ear to thee? By what right do thou admonish me? Am I not mine own mistress?" she asked dis dainfully. "It is not part of my plan to anger thee, Margaret, else I would tell tliee many things with unvarnished plain ness for thy good and for the welfare of thy soul," he said in reply. "An' if e'er a maid needed the firm guidance of sn honorable, God fearing man. thou'lt she, cousin," he continued sternl> "For iu that wicked bedlam, the Frwnch city called Paris, thou didst learn many ways aud acquire habits that if aliojved to grow, uncorrected ' would lose thee thy soul for all eter nity." Margaret, coming a step nearer, met bis glance with open defiance. "Speak plainer," she commanded. ' What dost thou mean?" "One thing, thy -way of dressing. I ask thee in all reason, cousin, doth it become a modest, virtuous ran id to ex pose her breast and arms to the gaze of men? I do assert 'tis most unseem ly." Margaret's eyes flashed dangerously. ''But," he continued, seeing her dis pleasure and endeavoring to control his voice so that it would sound less harsh and discordant, "I kuow that these are errors of education learned from the godless in that devil's nest where thou in all Innocence wast sent by thy father, and that with the firm and lov ing guidance of a pious husband, com bined with constant prayer and repent ance on tliy part, thou wouldst over come these ways tending to do thee evil. Margaret, canst thou not see what is for thy good? Give me mine answer tonight:"' He came toward her with outstretch ed bands. '"Say, 'Josiah, 1 will wed with thee.'" Margaret, who had grown very white, drew away from him hastily, as if In horror of him, opened her mouth to shriek out her refusal, then suddenly with a strong effort composed herself and. giving her shoulders a little shrug, leaned back against the tree, regarding her companion with a half smile of con tempt and derision. "My good cousin," she commenced calmly, "since my return among my kinsfolk, where of a truth I exacted warm greetings and loving attentions, with the exception of sweet Hetty I have received naught but unpleasant correction, constant criticism, unkind fault finding and rude interference with my mode of dress and manner of living. I have borne it all with pa tience, possibly indifference, attributing it to thine ignorance and the narrow ness of thy living here. 'Tis true my ways are not thy ways. Forsooth, I would change them if they were, so in supportable are thine to me, for I have ever been taught by the good and lov ing aunt who raised me that kind words and civil were much to be preferred to harsh criticism and cruel prejudice, and that fair words and good manners were what distinguished a gentleman from the boor. Again I say and In conclusion," she announced, with an air of finality. "If thou liketli not my ways, 1 hold thine in abhorrence." Joslah's thin lips worked. "Mine answer, Margaret Mayland," he interposed harshly, unable longer to endure the suspense; "cease thy wom an's palaver and say me yea or nay." "Thine answer!" She laughed a light laugh of contempt. "Here It is. I say it plainly so that thou'lt. understand it and so forever cease thine importuni ties. Josiah Taunston, I will not marry thee. Rather would I throw my body over the crag of yonder precipice and let the carrion feed on it. Now let me go my way!" CHAPTER IX. A COLOR, ashen gray, spread over Taunstou's face, white foam came on his lips, and, re moving his hat, be mopped his forehead with his handkerchief. For the moment he was stunned with dis appointment and anger, so much so that he did not appear to hear Marga ret's second imperative command to give way to her, and stood looking at her dumbly. A woman to scorn him! Since Taunstou's majority in all the counsels of the village his voice bad ever been heard the loudest, carrying conviction with it. The people heeded him; he was a leader, and in his own family the women obeyed his sternest orders without question or even hesita tion. in consequence as he had com manded all about him for so many years he knew no other way of attain ing his desires) so he thought now to conquer this woman, the first to rise lu his path to block it, by his usual harsh methods of procedure. "Before I leave, this place tonight thou'lt unsay those words or I shall f ■ - "Stayl" he exclaimed. force thorn from thee!"-he said iu a choked voice, endeavoring to suppress his passion. Margaret laughed scornfully. "Force!" she exclaimed, lifting her skirts preparatory to moving away in the opposite direction. "Thou'st estab lished a poor rule to win a woman, good cousin." She stood before him, maddening in her fearlessness, her contempt of him K.nd her beauty. With his heart full of baffled hope and despair at seeing fail ure close at hand, to control his desire to spring upon her and by sheer phys ical strength compel her to promise t<>- marry him he dug his nails into his clinched hands until he almost forced the blood. Not understanding his strong and passionate nature or indifferent to his suffering, Margaret continued lightly: "Thou'st ever been so generous with thine advice to me, Josiah, that before I go I'll give thee, forsooth, some small touusel in return. Learn, then, that, while force may be successful lu driv ing men and animals, fair words, a gal lant bearing and loving attentions are shafts that soonest reach a woman's heart." She moved away. Josiah sprang toward her, laying a strong, detaining hand ou her arm. he exclaimed. "I would speak further. Host think I heed thy foolish counsel? 'Tis time thou knew, cousin, that God made woman to serve man, to recognize bis better judgment in thankfulness anil to bow her head In submission to his Mill. An thou hadst thy way, Margaret, the world would be ruled by distaffs, an' all would come to ruin." In the dull hopelessness that took possession of him at the sight of the detestation now openly expressed on her pale face his voice grew loss harsh and his manner slightly entreating as he said, "Mayhap my ways are not so soft and squeamish as those of the wicked worldly men, at heart black guards, that thou hath jjiet abroad, but thou would And me true, Mur garet, and just, and under my direc tion thon would soon see the vrriue of uiy ways and folio l * the good example I would ever seek to set for tbee." "I want none of thee nor thine ex amples!" Margaret cried angrily. "And thou must cease thy persecu tion*! Know now for once aud for all that I much mislike thee, that I loathe and bate thee, and that I hope our paths will never cross again!" "An' thou hast no gratitude, woman, for my service on thine estate, for its present value on account of mine endeavors?" "Thou hast had the yearly stipend that thou did agree was sufficient," she replied. "Now an' for the last time, let me pass." Seeing the expression of strength and resolution on her face and her manner so disdainful of him. .Toslah sickened as a realization of his absolute inabili ty to coutrol this woman came over him. Almost crazed with despair, he spoke furiously, hardly knowing what be said. "Hear me once more, an' then thou canst go the downward path thou hast chosen unmolested. The honest pur pose of an upright man is as a stench in thy nostrils because, wanton, thou lovest the wicked ways of thy French lover!" Iler blue eyes grew black, then fair ly blazed. "Take care!" she said. .Tosiah, unheeding, weut on sneering ly, all the pent up hatred and Jealousy in his heart coming out of his white lips in taunting phrases. "Thy French lover, whose sweet en ticing ways and gallant bearing thou doth so much admire—he that was to follow thee anon, to press his suit, wed thee an' live restfnllv on thine estate, spending thy £old for his pleas ure until he died why cometh he not? Whose arms intwine about him, keep ing him away?" "I warn thee to take care!" Margaret cried in deep anger. "Where is thy truant lover? Soft hearted fool! Dost think he e'er fared forth from Lunnon up these hills to see thee once his eyes fell on the beauty o' the maids of that gay city? It angers me to see thee, my cousin, standing there a deceived woman, defending to an honest man the name of a poltroon, a blackguard and a libertine!" With a quick motion she raised her hand and gave him a stinging slap across the face. He looked at her for an Instant, not comprehending what had happened, with open mouth and staring eyes. Then as a realization of what she had done swept over him blood so angry flew to his head that It maddened him. Springing toward her, he caught her in his arms in a close em brace. "Thou'lt kiss me where thou struck me," he cried with wild passion, "or else I'll kill thee!" She rocked and swayed in his em brace. "Josiah, I loathe thee! Let me go!" "Then," he said, with gloating In his voice, "if e'er thy gallant courtier lov er happen dotli give thee thought enough to ride this way I'll make my boasts on thee! So kiss me, wanton, if not for love then for thy life!" She felt his hot breath on her cheek, saw relentless determination in the j steely eyes above her, and, desperately trying to free an arm, felt herself in closed as in a vise of Iron. "Godfrey!" she called, now greatly frightened. "Aye, call him! He'll come anon when he doth grow a weary of the maids in I.unuon," he panted sneer ingly. Both young and strong, they strug gled desperately, Margaret trying to reach his face with her clutching lin gers, lmt he held down her hands and laughed at her tauntingly. "Godfrey, Godfrey!" Her voice rang out strong and clear through the forest. "Doth some one call?" Footsteps were heard running. Jo siali loosed his hold slightly, listening. " 'Tls I, Margaret Mayland!" A man burst through the thicket and, ,with a sharp exclamation, caught Taunstou by the shoulders, swung him round with the strength of a giant and with a well directed blow felled him to the ground, where he lay apparently lifeless. "Godfrey!" Margaret, white faced and fainting, was clasped In tbs embrace of liei lover, who, holding ber to bis heart looked at tbo prostrate figure with fierce glnnees of anger. "The scoundrel doth move:" La Fa bienne drew his sword. "I'll kill him where he lays!" "Say, dear Godfrey, have not murder ou thy soul," she said tremblingly, with soft compelling. " 'Tin my cousin, Josiali Taunston, who was but angered that 1 would not consent to wed with him." La Fabienne's l*ow grew dark. "God's pity! 'Twere not murder to finish that white livered hound! Rather 'twould be a deed of kindness to the world," he answered sternly, sheathing his sword with reluctance. "But to please tbee, sweet, an' because I would not add further to thine horrors, I shall not molest him further." lie kissed ber face and wound his arm about her in a manner affection ate and protecting. "Come with me, Margaret." She advanced a step or two, then paused, looking back hesitatingly. "Is he dead, Godfrey? I think but of his mother and poor Hetty." La Fablenna laughed scornfully. "Say, my love, fear not, but come with me. His kind dletb not so eas ily." As the last sound of their voices died ou the breeze Joslah Taunston, his face livid, with blood dropping from his nos trils, staggered to bis feet and, clinging to a tree for support, glanced with wild eyes of hatred In the direction the lov ers bad taken. ".So, ho, thou hast arrived!" he pant ed with quick drawn breath. "Fool, thou didst not die, but art here i' the tlesh to use thy persuasions with my cousin against me an' my rightful claims! Insistence an' firmness, had ye not come, would have 1' the long run won her, an' the farm lands would have been mine!" He stood erect, endeavoring to stanch j the flow of blood and muttering prom- j ises and throats to himself. "But with that woman dangler's arms about her, Joslah Taunston, thou hast no hope of Mnrguret Maylaud now! 80, ho, thou must use thy brain .with subtle skill to smooth this compli 1 cation out!" Turning to go, he paused, shaking his linger in the direction they had taken, a sinister, wicked expression spread ing over his drawn features. "Happen now if matters fall out not ; to thy liking, Mistress Mayland, thou'lt recall to mind too late that I offered thee the best a man could offer kindly and in a good spirit until thou didst anger me beyond control. Thou didst flout me an' left me stunned an' bleed ing—for all thy knowledge dead—to walk away with thy choice. 'Fair .words, a gallant bearing an' loving at- i tenUops,'" hu euesntf, Mu;u slioofc Lis No. 23. | finger menacingly. "Thou hut th»m now, an', forsooth, something more that ' thou wot not of—an enemy, a man I whose word will lie taken here on all I accounts an' who can bring thee into j much disfavor; oue who would have loved thee, but who now hates thee. Thou'lt live to regret this night, mis tress. and I to remember-It!" Then hi: laughed a harsh, grating, mirthless laugh, aud, turning suddenly, groped his way down the path that led to the village. [ro na CO.\TL\UID.] FAMOUS ENGLISH WELLS. tunc Whose Water* Are Cbuged With Manic or Mlracnlona Power. Though there arc hundreds of wells supposed to possess magical power scattered all over England, the general public is ignorant of their locality or the romantic stories connected with each one. There may be a possible ex ception in the well of St Keyne, in Cornwall, for Southey has made It fa mous in a witty little poem. The mag ic of its waters is such that the hus band or wife who drinks ilrst from it after leaving the altar will have the upper hand over the mate for their Joint lives. The bride of whom Southey tells us did not wait till after the mar riage ceremony to pay a visit to the well, but took the precaution.of taking a bottle with her to the church. Another well, in Monmouthshire, which has a peculiar fascination f«r the unmarried maidens Is known Is the "virtuous well." For generation! the maidens of that locality have ac credited it with marvelous powers In forecasting their futures. They have only to drop a pebble into its water and count the resultant bubbles, for each bubble represents a month of waiting for the day which will make them brides. In order to propitiate the genius which presides over the well It is necessary to decorate the bram bles which shade It with bits of white eloth. Then there are the so called holy wells which have many medicinal vir tues. Such a one is St. Winifred's, at Holywell, which is accredited with cures that are almost miraculous. The legend of Its origin is a very pretty one. It is said that twelve centuries ago St. Winifred, the winsome daugh ter of a Welsh chief, was wooed by Prince Caradoc, a prince of ill repute. She declined his persistent advances, and at last he killed her in a fit of rage. From the spot on which St. Winifred's Ufeblood fell there gushed forth a stream of crystal water which has worked miracles in her name for so many centuries. Fractlcally all the ills to which the flesh is heir can be cured by one or an other of these wells. St Ninan's, In Cornwall, is said to restore lunatics to sanity, but the patient must be im mersed in the water and held there un til tho breath has nearly left his body. This seems a heroic measure. But even this is not so severe as the treatment which must be endured If a madman Is to be cured at Llandegla well, In Wales, for after the victim Is neatly drowned he is trussed like a fowl "and laid under the communion table of the neighboring church for the night. THE CHRYSANTHEMUM. The first chrysanthemum show was held in Norwich, England, in 1829. The Philadelphia Horticultural socie ty held the first chrysanthemum show in the United States In 1883. The first chrysanthemums brought to Europe were taken from China by skip pers of the tea trading ships. After the chrysanthemum is potted leave it for a little time in the shade. Then give it all the sun that Is possible. The chrysanthemum was Introduced into England 200 years ago from Chi na. It was grown first in Holland aft er its emigration. The chrysanthemum is one of tie easiest of garden flowers to grow, but It needs careful tending after It is brought into the house in pots when the frost comes. The than*c of a Name. How family names change In the course of many years is illustrated by the conversion of "Botevile" Into "Tbyiine." An English deed bearing date in the closing days of the flfteenflf century shows three brothers then flourishing—John Botevile of Boterlle and Thomas and William Botevile. The trio are distinguished from all oth er Bo'teviles by the explanation "of the Inne," or family residence, the title to which had come to their Joint posses sion. John's grandson was known as Italph Botevile-of-the-Inne, from which the transition to Italph Thynne is easy His descendants have been Thynnes ever since. Why Leave® Tarn Brown. The green matter In the tissues of a leaf is composed of two colors, red and blue. When the sap ceases to flow In the autumn the natural growth of the tree is retarded, and oxidation of the tissues takes plaije. Under certain con ditions the green of the leaf changes to red. Under different aspects It takes on a yellow or brown hue. The differ ence In color is due to the difference In combinations of the original constitu ents of the green tissues and to the varying condition of climate, exposure aud soil. Maples and oaks have the brightest color. Rose CottlnKH. Country Life advises taking cuttiugs of roses in the fall and says: They should be about eight inches long and covered with sand al>out a foot deep through the winter. In the spring set in rows in good garden soil, upright. Trim to six inches in setting out. They, will lake root and can then be trans planted into nursery beds. This is for outdoor culture. The cuttings should be taken just before frost arrives and from nearly matured wood. Idleness. It is an undoubted truth that tiie less one has to do the less one finds time to ilo it in. One yawns, one procrasti nates, one can do it when one will, and I therefore one seldom docs it at all, I whereas those who have u great deal j of business must buckle to it, and then I they always Hud time enough to do It In. A Jn.llclnl lleproof. A Justice once reproved a would be suicide thus: "Young man, you have been found guilty of attempting to drown yourself In the river. Only cou ilder what your feelings would hnve iieen had you succeeded."—Green Bag. A Ilud Scrape. "You seemed pretty familiar IWith that lust chap," remarked the soap. "Not at all," replied the Turkish tow el. "I was merely trying to scrape an acquaintance."—Chicago News. Defer not charities till death. He that does so is rather liberal of an other man's substanye tfojyi of fcjs Ojrn. . r »sf>.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers