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>.