VOL. XXXXiI. >/ r TMrs. J. E. ZIMMERMAN? i►— " X < > ANNOUNCES THEIR V i 25th Semi-Annual Sacrifice Sales ; ; Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday,' ; ; JULY sth. 6th, 7th and Bth. ! i < > We do not feel we need say much as an Inlroduction' . < to this our 25th Sacrifice Sale of clean, new merchand . < The FACT that it will be our 25th sale is conclusive evi < Jence *at we use the word sacrifice TRimFULLY- , < HONESTLY. That this has been an unfavorable spring < > season for merchants generally, is another well known < > fact This means—heavy stocks all over the store—and < ►as our fixed rule is no left-overs—means deeper cuts < > heavier sacrifice prices than ever before offered. Need f < k we S ay more? Come to this sacrifice sale July 5, o, /, o. • ] : Tailor-Made Suits ,o ( , Silk Jacket Suits O < > \ Covert Jackets jl' < > _ n , ) Rain Coats , J Sacrifice Prices on separate sunt a 7 . j Millinery i » ! I Dress Goods and Silks < > Wash Goods, White Goods < > 1 f \ Laces, Embroideries, &c '< > < > The Greatest Bargains in Underwear we have ever offered—extrasizes in , I | ribbed vest for large women. Bc. value 15c. Extra size vest. 10c. value 20c. < > Mrs. J. E. Zimmerman.]: 5 Butler, Pa. O G©©©©©©©©©©©©§©©©©©©©©©©©®® § SEE HERE! § O If you are thinking of purchasing a new Buggy, Surrey, O S Spring Wagon, Farm Wagon or a set of Harness, why V not see our splendid line and get our prices before send- v © ing away for it to some one who is only interested in get- W W ting your money. They may tell you an alluring story; W O but they don't care whether the goods please or not. W © They are not where you can drop in and "call them U 8 down" as we are. We must please our customers, for W our own protection. Come and see us and get some of V © the bargains we are now offering. We are crowed for © room as we unloaded a full car of Buggies last week and W 0 have another this week. See the point? g fMartincourt & Thom g ~ .. . 0 "" U l, 11 fc 128 E. Jefferson St., Butler, Pa. 0 © Headquarters for Krarfter Wagons. 0 |T| Sleep on a i Cool Bed. L ' L ]/ Ev vV Nothing looks so f cool as a metal bed, enameled or f brass—nothing f MmMMI 80 ► Now ig the time to put aside the old wooden affair ► ind install one of these artistic metal beds that allow < 3f free air ventilation and have no crevices where ► iust and dirt can lodge. i The woven wire spring mattresses are the next ► thing to sleeping on air. The metai beds are just < :he thing for the hot summer nights—and the mortal ► oe of sleeplessness. < White Enameled Beds from 93.50 to 915. < ! Brass Beds, from $35.00 to $50.00. ; While you're looking at the beds see the other |J Furniture we have for the Bedroom —artistic Chef- J foniers, with or without mirror—pretty Tables — n light Rockers —everything to make the sleeping t chamber a really restful and attractive room. M BROWN &• CO. \ No. 136 North Main St., Butler. m jlYousers. j J See display of Trousers this week. ( ) Are you hard to fit? ( 1 , Are you hard to please in patterns? / r Do you wear a stout, slim or regular? ) f Bo you want a nice peg top trouser? ) 1 Do you want to save money? / / Do you want the best Trouser at the lowest price?) i Do you want the trouser that is made right in) S every way—style, pattern, fit, sewing, cat, wear? and f V at the right price? if so consider the above questions > \ and find the right place. \ \ There is only one right place to look for and that is ( v '■ i Douthett & Graham. \ ) INCORPORATED. / ~ \HE BUTLER CITIZEN: THE MODERN STORE- Fourth of July Wants. The largest and Most Varied Assortment. We have all the new things to complete yoar 4th of Jnlv or Outfit. If yon are in doubt abont what you want, come to this store and we can help yon ont. ladies' Summer Novelties and Wear. New stock collars, ruchings, belts, fancy ribbons, beads, novelties in jewelry, fancy combs, bags, etc. .... . ~ 4 . - rt Another new lot Ladies' white lawn shirt waists just in at sl,worth fl.ou. Summer Underwear, Fancy Hosiery, etc., extensive assortment Handsome Parasols all at manufacturers prices,or i less than retail All trimmed or nntrimmed hats at just one-half original prices liats now 50c. sl.9h hats now 99c $2.48 hats now sl-24. f4 93 hats now fr.2.49. Trimmings, frames, braids, flowers all at half price. A lot ot braids sold at 10c to 25c per vard to be closed out at 3c per yard. Hot Weather wear for Men. Latest novelties in Men's Weai. Shirts, Washable Neckwear. Light Weight Underwear, Fancy Half Hose. etc. EISLEK-MARDORF COfIPANY, SOUTH MAIH STREET J QQI "s°xomc?i^ s f"I Samples sent on request. OPPOSITE HOTEL ARLINGTON. BUTLER. PA jj Bickel's Footwear. H 1 A Grand Dteplay of Fine Footwear in W 4 All the Latest Spring Styles. rJ J dHHjm We are showing many M " j&Smw Im P re «y styles in Ladies' Fine ft ; ►j tuUHJ/afl Shoes and Oxforda at prices ffi 4 JK&I sure to interest you. pi < Big bargains in Misses' p] if anc * ren ' s oeß, * Large slock of Men's and * MIL v Boys' Fine Shoes and Ox- PJ < WwWfflv fords in many Btyles \ Hi W Repairing promptly done. [; JOHN BICKEL! r 128 S Main St., BUTLER, PA. kl r 1 TVITETN 1 • iyl jl Won't buy clothing for the purpose of jf: r \!l j IS spending money. They desire to get the 1.,' i t ' x IS best possible results of the money expended. ]V j if V \ 11 Those who buy custom clothing have a I- j'j 1 / {■;' right to demand a fit, to have their clothes •if : : y ii correct in style and to demand of the /1.,. i seller to guarantee everything. Come to jC /■. CY „• • us and there will be nDthing lacking. I £ 'ja/ . .. ,; j have iust rpceiyed a Jarge slock of Spring }•* s • ,j > . and Summer suitings in the latest styies, I ' V;■ jj J shades and colors. Klrfi 6. F. KECK, i iJj py y / 142 N. Main St., Butler, Pa jlj 4 Wll tp H " 1 Tlian any other WastierS Men the market. & I J. (i. &W. CAMPBELL, jg BUTLER, PA. |I The Best Ever Offered. From the Cloth Maker to the Wearer Men's Suits at a Saving of $5. and even more. Lot 3393 Black Dressy Suit (Thibet Cloth) Sale Price $7.50 worth 14.00 Lot 3391 Fancy Worsted (very neat) Sale Price $7.50 worth 12.00 Lot 3380 Black Clay for dress wear (all wool worsted) Sale Price $7.00 worth 12.00 Lot 3435 Fancy Scotch mixed (all wool) Sale Price $6.00 worth 10.00 Lot 3363 Scotch Tweed (all wool) Sale Price $5.50 worth 9.00 Lot 3444 Black Cheviot (all wool) Sale Price $5.00 worth $8.50 Bring this advertisment with you and come to this store, and we will convince you of saving at least $5 on every suit. PHILIP SCHAUL, SUCCESSOR TO SCHAUL & NAST 137 South Main Street, * - - - - Butler, Pa. Subscribe for the CITIZEN *. ' BUTLER, TA., THURSDAY, JUNE 20, 1905 j|' 'TH©''' \VitcH ofl I Cragenstone | M By ANITA CLAY MUNOZ, ||t ' Author of "In Love ind Truth" It| Copurlgbt, 190S, bu Anlt» CU;; Manoz I I 1 <■'f f 1 fff ff f CHAPTER XV. SOON the storm was spent, and the sun, weary of hiding its hot face, burst forth through the drifting clouds that even now were dark and moved away with low, thunderous growls, Margaret, who, with Sir Godfrey, had remained in the sitting room of her bouse during the awful outburst of the elements, now rose from her seat and, crossing to the window, threw open the lattice, saying with * little ehiver: "Heaven be thanked! 'Tis over, with no barm done. That last peal of thunder had a murderous sound that filled my soul with apprehension. God keep all travelers and dumb animals safe!" sh» added seriously, {.a Fabienue came to her side. "If my bird is afraid of storms," he observed smilingly, "she should not have made her nest on the topmost peak of a mountain, so high that when the clouds grow angry and fall low she is perforce in the midst of the com motion." "Godfrey" Margaret turned her sweet, serious face to his—"thou know eth that thy bird rests not lightly in her mountain nest. Although she is free to fly hither and thither as she listeth, there is an unpleasant con straint in all the air about ber. Oh, bonny Taris," she exclaimed, throwing out her hand with a swift, dramatic gesture, "right willingly would I ex change the freedom of my village nest for captivity in a cage were it hung In thy bright streets!" I.a Fabienne smiled tenderly at her earnestness as he encircled Uer \yith ljis arrq. "Soon, sweet love, by my faith, thou wilt exchange!" he said. "Already a sage, not of gilt bars, but a huge pile If stone and mortar, with doors and windows, is in readiness f<yr thb«. From it thou art ever free to come and go, the only bars that will ever seek to stay thee being these two arms that now intwine so lovingly about thee," "And, prithee, happily will J stay close to tiieir strong protection. Oh, }ny dear iove," she cried, with soft eagerness, "dost know how much thou art to me? Who else In all this cold world have I? I love thee, Godfrey!" For answer he clasped her closer to his heart. Soon steps were heard ana, looking from the window, they saw Hetty taunston, a white sunbonnet in her hand, running up the path. With a cry of pleasure, Margaret advanced tq meet her and, taking her hand, led her Into the room. '•'Hetty! Stranger! Welcome!" she fried gayly. "Methought thou hadat forsaken thy cousin." Hetty made a shy courtesy to La Fabienne, who bowed in his most state ly fashion, and said in a low, breathless voice. "Mother hast grown strangely stern of late, dear Margaret, and for bids me to visit thee, for what reason I know not." The smilq on Margaret's face faded, thou didst coine now with her consent ?" she asked. "Nay, sweet cousin. In the cool of the morning mother rode down the mountain to Brother Haggott's, there to spend the night, so"—with a Jlttle toss of her head and a light laugh—"me thought not to lose the chance to get a glimpse of thee unknowust to her." "I' truth, sweet"—Margaret stroked her soft hair fondly—"an thy disobe dience is discovered 'twill put thy peo ple against thee sorely," Hetty sighed, "I wot not why my mother is so hard with me. Happen I put a small flower in my hair she is greatly angered. Dost think such ornament sinful, Mar garet?" she asked wistfully. Her cousin smiled, and La Fabienne broke Into a hearty laugh of amus^ jpent, • Poor little Mistress Hetty!" he ex claimed. "Didst never have other pleasure than singiug psalms in the church?" "Nay, unless 'tis walking home from prayers o' nights," she replied iuno centlj", •t'lieu, as he laughed again, this time more loudly, Hetty became conscious, blushed and hung her head. The sight of her pretty confusion touched Sir Godfrey. "Here, Margaret, string thy lute," he cried, ''and Mistress Hetty and I will tread a measure," Margaret, smiling, touched the cords gently, and La Fabienne, bowing low, offered his hand to Hetty, who when she understood his meaning shrank back in alarm, with white face and parted lips. "Nay, nay, sir," she stammered. "{ must refuse thee. In our belief dano "I must refuse thee." ing is a sin that sends the soul to eter nal punishment, for so our preacher hath ever taught us, and my brother Josiah would cast me out of the house an he heard I Indulged In such prac tices." Sir Godfrey, inclining his bead cour teously, walked away, and Margaret threw down her lute, interposing hastily to cover netty's embarrass ment. "What ails thee, man, that thou would ask a Puritan maid to dance? Thou must excuse him, Hetty, as he knows not the pious customs of our mountain people. Come, dear Godfrey, read to us from thy new volume of Will Shakespeare. 'Twill delight sweet Hetty, who hath great love for poetry, and as for me," she added, with a smile, "thou knowest the sound of thy voice is ever music In mine ears." In reading and pleasant converse the afternoon passed so rapidly t&ftt it wns after mllfc&g time ytitfu Esity bethought herself of the lateness of the hour. Hurriedly saying her farewells, she ran down the roadway to the fence, sprang over the stile and went hastily In the direction of the pasture, where the cows, unaccustomed to such irregularity, had assembled at the gates, bellowing low plaintive calls for release. Breathless and panting, Hetty let down the bars and, picking up a stick, proceeded to urge the cattle to a greater rate of speed than was usually necessary. If her mother had return ed unexpectedly she was lost! Fright ened at the thought, she gave the last cow in the line a sharp prod with the stick, who, not accustomed to such rough treatment, looked back at her reproachfully, then galloped awkward ly ahead of the others. The cows once lu the barn, It *ras a matter of a few moments to collect the pails and stool for milking. Other evenings Hetty sat down to this occupation cheerfully, usually sing ing lightly to the accompaniment of the soft sound of the milk streaming into the pail, but tonight the task was distasteful to her. She took her seat with a Jerk and exclaimed irritably when the cow, in order to brush a fly from its back, whisked its tail acrostt her faee. "Keep still, thou old beldam cow! Dost think I want mine eyes aeratc-bed out o' my head?" Although under tbe skillful manipu lations of her hands the pails filled rap idly, Hetty's thoughts were not upon her occupation, but were over the meadows at the Mnyland farmhouse, with La Fabienne and Margaret The poetical and romantic vein that ran deep in this girl's nature had been touched by the afternoon's entertain ment. The handsome drvsti uf Sir God frey aud his gallant bearing, combined with the exquisite beauty of Margaret in hfr soft flowing gown of white linen, caused Hetty's little heart to ache with rympathetlc yearning, '•Was over seen siKh t\ bonny pair o' Jovers?" she thought. "Such trust, such evidence of love in every action! Ah, ackaday. woe is me!" She sighed hopelessly. "Xo lover more gallant than n Purl tan farmer, and instead Qf a lute a milk bucket!" At last, her task finished, she carried the heavy palls to the dairy. "Methought Sir Godfrey regarded me with a pleasant gaze," she said to her self as she rested on a churn near the door. Then as a sudden thought seemed to strike her she raised hor fac» quickly, her eyes beaming with brightness. "An I had had the ro<??~ ' hair aud had worn my new lace tucker, mayhap he would ha' admired me more," she said. "As 'tis, perchance, he might speak o' me to a comrade high In favor at the French court who would fall In love with his description and come bravely here to woo me." The thought was so pleasant to the Imaginative, romantic soul of little Hetty that, forgetting to pour tbe milk into the pans and set them away for the cream to rise, she sat on the edge of the churn, her resting against the wall, lost ill her rosy hued day dreams. With her hand in her imagina ry lover's, who wore a suit of lifebt blue velvet trimmed with silver braid ing, she was just making a low cour tesy before the king of France when her Illusions were roughly dispelled by the loud, hearty voice of Simon Kemp ster, who having seeu his adored Het ty enter tho dairy, followed lu her wake to have a chat with her. From the excessive heat and the exercise of carrying a sack of potatoes a long dis tance Simou's face was red and per spiring; his rough suit of homespun, unbuttoned at the throat, soiled and shabby, hung loosely ou his sturdy fig ure, and his broad farming hat made of reeds was torn aud broken at the edges. He laid down the sack and en tered. Startled froin Her brilliant dreams by Simon's appearance, Hetty's thoughts fled from the court of the king of France and fastened them selves upon matters of the present, the most Important of which were the full milk pails. Springing off the churn and returning Simon's pleased grin with an absent smile of greeting, she proceeded to fill the row of pewter pans with the white foaming milk. Fanning himself with his broken hat, Simon watched her from his place at the door with admiring eyes. It oc curred to him that Hetty had never be fore looked so pretty. The red color in her cheeks had heightened; her eyes were brighter; she held her little head higher, and lit his estimation went about her homely task lu the same manner as would have a queen. Look ing at her white throat, he thought of the silver heart lying on her fair bosom that he had given her and that she had received with so much pleasure a sweet secret safe between him and Hetty—and Ills honest heart gave a great throb. Stepping to her side, he asked her for a mug of milk. Hetty's pleasant after noon and her consequent happy day dreams had left her In sort of an up lifted state. She wished good fortune to all and gave Simon the refreshment he demanded, with a smile of happi ness. "Poor Simon," she thought as she carried the first full pan to the but tery. "What a kind friend he hath ever been to mo. There's many a lone ly hour I would ha' spent without him. When my lord doth come and I ride away I shall not forget Simon. Hap pen anon I may have influence to have him made lackey at the court." Returning for another pan, with her heart and mind full of her good inten tions, Hetty bestowed a more than or dinary sweet glance of esteem and kindly feeling upon her visitor, whose heart, always full of love for her, ached now to bursting with fancied encour agement. Only when wearing his new churchgolng black suit, he thought, had she ever given him kinder glances; so, regardless of his untidy appearance, he clasped the astonished Hetty in his firms, and. thoughts that for months had been filling his mind now took the form of words and sprang from his lips in sentences expressing his passionate love for her. "Art gone daft, Simon? Ha' done, I tell thee!" she cried in angry surprise, struggling to free herself from his strong embrace. "Hetty, say the word," he entreated, j "Promise to be my wife. Plight thy 1 troth yitli me.'* "Coward," she cried, "to hold a maid against her will! Dost think I want a cowboy for a husband?" He loosed his hold and drew back as if Ktnng. with staring eyes and a face from which all color had gone. "Thou dost not love me, Hetty?" be asked solemnly. "An' all our sweet friendship is to go for naught?" "Love thee?" Hetty gave her head a toss. "Whoe'er put thoughts of my loving thee into thine Idle brain? Nay, silly. Look not so downcast," she cried, "an' take my best assurance that our friendship hath not been in vain, for so dear I hold thee in my heart that but e'en now before thou spokest thy foolish utterances I was making plans for thine advancement." Unable to understand and much be wildered, Simon watched Hetty as she airily lifted her skirts and, holding her head very high, walked up and down the dairy In imitation of a grand lady. "For thou knowesti Simon," she con tinued, with a patronizing nod, "me thinks to marry a French courtier who will come anon on a white steed to woo me and take me back with bim to Par is, there to set me up in a grand palace, with countless serving men and wom en to do my bidding." "Hetty; what nonsense is this?" Si mon cried In desperation. "What man Is this thou lovestV" " 'Tis no man that I e'er seen as yet." Hetty continued her pacing up and down. "But know this, Simon Kempster, that I'll ha' none of thee. Dost think I would bother with thy little scraggly farm when I can be mistress of a grand estate? However," she conclud ed condescendingly, her foolish little mind sHgbtiy troubled by the broken hearted expression in her companion's eyes, "think not that I will forget thee, Simon. Why, who knoweth but I may make theo overseer of one of my farms in the provinces. Think on that—thy bright future—with joyful anticipation, good Simon." He came and stood before her with white, drawn face, depicting desperate earnestness. "Then thou hast meant nothing by any fair words thou might have spo ken?" "Fie, Simon," she gigKled nervously, more affected than she knew by his seriousness, "out upon thy cross looks! Thy solemn countenance would give a body the megrims! Who said we could not be friends?" Kempster turned his back upon her and walked away. At the door he paused, "By all this talk then thou doth mean that thou canst not love me—that thou'lt never be my wife?" "Thy wife! A common farmer's wife?" Iletty laughed a low. rippling laugh of amusement. "Nay, good Simon, thou must seek thy mate among thine own farm loving kind. As for me, I will wait the arrival of my gallant courtier." "Hetty, hast forgotten the love verses?" Jli» voice was entreating. *'Tbe verses! Ha, ha!" She laughed again, this time more merrily. "To speak o' your silly rhymes as verses, forsooth! Why, body o' me, good Simon, thou shouldst buy a book of good Will Shakespeare's verses, an' then thon'dst know what poetry is, an' ne'er -nore speak again. I warrant thee, o uiy nonsensical rhyming." Something must have snapped in Simon's heart, it went down with such a bound. Blindly he turned and groped Uls way out of the house, not #t?eing the sack of potatoes resting on the ground, tripped aud almost fell over the house dog lying asleep in the shade and strode on with head down cast over the wet roadway, into the dull shadows of the approaching twi light. CHAPTER XVI ADAM, the goldsmith, waited late that afternoon for Christo l pher's return. Impatient at his delay and angry at the sight of the unfinished chores, he paced up and down the room restless ly, pausing at frequent Intervals to look out of the doorway with nervous anxiety toward the forest footpath. " 'Tis passing strange," he muttered. "The lad's ne'er done the like before. If he'd a thought of fear I'd say the atoriu delayed him, but such things as thunder showers 'ud ne'er bother Christopher. Nay," shaking his bead, "the lad's willful and careth not that tho chores are undone." Just then a shadow fell across the threshold. Adam came forward ex pectantly. "Ah, bless me, Mistress Taunston!" he exclaimed in surprise. "Methought 'twas Christopher. Happen didst see that good for naught as thou didst COiiie through the forest?" "I saw him not, good Adam," the dame replied, "but I walked rapidly, as I am in haste to reach the house of Sister Hemming, that my sou brought me word an hour since had been vis ited by the Lord with an affliction of numbness, so I bethought me that my prayers and services might be of use at the bedside. Did thy lad stray away?" " 'Twas after the hour of noon that I sent him to the Mayland farm with a trinket that I mended for the young mistress," he replied. 'T truth I would not ha' been in such good haste to send it had not thy good sou Josiah warned me of possible evil contained lu the papist symbol of the goiden cross." The woman threw out ber hand in a manner that suggested hopeless resig nation at the rashness of the old man's act and, addressing bim harshly with tragic earnestness, said: "Thou didst send thy lad with that emblem of the black art, Adam Browdle. Forsooth," with an ominous shake of her head, " 'twas no wonder then that the storm rose betimes, turning peaceful elements Into devil's turmoil to bring honest folk to their knees calling on God to save them! Ah, sorrowful day!" she sighed drearily, then, raising her voice In re buke, said, "'Twas thy duty, man, to ha' burned the wicked trinket instead o' sending an Innocent lad with it to bring destruction to him!" Adam, pale with apprehension, cow ered back against the door. The words of his visitor were sc positive and her manner carried such conviction with it that the old man was already aghast at the possible consequences of his fool ish act. "I must be on my way, good neigh bor." Mistress Taunston lifted her skirts preparatory to leaving. "But happen thy lad returneth not by night fall I would counsel thee to rouse the village, call the men out for a search, and if aught of harm hath befallen Christopher as a result of touching that cross," she continued sternly, with a threatening emphasis, "I wot measures must be taken at once to force the wearer of it to destroy it." "Aye, aye!" the trembling old man concurred eagerly. "Such evil gini cracks worn for the sake o' wicked vanity should be destroyed. Mayhap, alas, enough harm hath !>een done a'read.v! Ah, woe is me! 'Tis bad time we ha' fallen on!" "Truth hast thou spoken. God keep thee, Adam." "And thee, goofl dame." Tbo woman passed on. srrim and se vere. and the shadow receded slowly from the threshold. That night a party of men carrying j torches searched the forest vainly for I the missing lad. calling his name loud ly, then listening with straining ears for a response. But none came to their strong and eager cries, tbe accustomed stillness of midnight on the mountain j being broken only by sounds of hurry ing feet shrieks of birds, roused frorr. j their nests by the unusual disturbance and glare of lights, a. they flew through J the trees with noisy clapping of wings, and the j>eculiar wailing sound of tbe j wildcat as with gleaming eyes and showing its teeth savagely It slunk among the underbrush. But it was not until morn that they found him. At the peaceful hour of dawn, when the sun was sending its first warm rays of light across the horizon line, tinting the sky with rosy pink that presaged the coming of an other glorious day of life and activity, Taunston shouted to the others that he had found him. and his companions, running to the edge of the precipice, saw the bruised and swollen body of poor Christopher, held securely by a protruding root of a gnarled oak tree that had caught under his Jacket, toss ing up and down on the rushing, tum bling waters of the stream below, his glazed eyes \flde open and staring, looking vacantly into the shocked and sorrowing faces above him. [ro BH CONTIXtTED.] ? POOLE'S FAMOUS FEAT.' » In Splitting: Paper He Went One Bet ter Than an English Expert. Lucius Toole, a brother of William Poole, the librarian whose name is per petuated In "Poole's Index," was known throughout the country for his rare skill in restoring and repairing old documents and reprints. He lived for thirty years in a house at the south end, Boston, with three congenial spirits, one a collector of Dickensana, the second of Napoleouana and the third a collector of first editions. Poole was a collector, too, of books, letters and programmes relating to tbe stage. He had a remarkable faculty for matching old paper and could put a corner or a patch on a letter or a playbill so neatly that it could be no ticed only under a magnifying glass. Mr. Poole's famous feat of splitting a magazine page into four leaves or lay ers was brought about by an English lnlayer, who showed Mr. Poole a page split in three leaves with the printing on it unmarred. The American said that he could do all that the Englishman had done, and more, and after some experiments produced a page of the Century Magazine spilt in four leaves. This was taken to London by a book collector, who had gone abroad to add to his library, and after the page had been the rounds of the clubs there it was sent to Paris and caused the Frenchmen to wonder.—PorUand Ad vertiser, THE SUN AND MOON. Qoatnt Folklore Storlea Concerain* Theae Luminaries. » The most touching of all folklore sto ries ma, tie found in Charles F. Lum mis' "Pueblo Folklore." It is one of the many myths of tbe moon and beau tifully conceived. The sun is the All father, the moon the Allmotber, and both shine with etjual light in the heav ens. But the Trues, the superior divin ities, find that man, the animals, the flowers, weary of a constant day. They ngree to put out the Allfather's, or sun's, eyes. The Allmotber, the moon, offers herself as a sacrifice. "Blind me," she says, "and leave my hus band's eyes." The Trues say, 'lt is good, woman." They accept the sacrifice and take away one of the Allmother's eyes; hence tbe moon is less brilliant than the sun. The man fiuds rest at night, and the flowers sleep. In Mrs. Leiber Cohen's translation of Sacher Masoch's "Jewish Tales" there is a variant of the sun and moon story derived from Uie Talmud. Briefly told, the sun and moon are equally lumi nous. It is the moon who wants to be more brilliant than the sun. Deity is angered at her demands. Her light is lessened. "The moon grew pale. Then God pitied her and gave her .the stars for companions." THE OCEAN DERELICT. It Ik the Most Patent of All Dangrers That Threaten Seafarers. Of all the spectacles of the seas none is so tragic as the derelict, the errant of the trackless deep. Weird beyond description Is the picture presented by some broken and battered hulk as she swings into view against the sky line, with the turgid green seas sweeping over ber moss grown decks and a splintered fragment of mast pointing upward, as if in protest against her undoing. It is a sight also to arouse fear. For the derelict is the most potent of all the dangers that threaten the sea farer. Silent, stealthy, Invisible, it is the terror of the mariner. It is the arch hypocrite of the deep. Against it skill of seamanship, vigilance in watch ing, avail not Lights and whistles, beams and buoys proclaim the proxim ity of laud; the throbbing of engines, the noises of shipboard life tell of an approaching vessel; icebergs and floes betray themselves by their ghostly ra diance and surrounding frigidity of air, but the derelict gives no warning, makes no signal. The first sign of its existence is the crash, the sickening tremble and quaver of the ship sudden ,ly wounded to death.—P. T. McGrath in McClure's, THE BUDDHIST" HADES. Eight "Easy Stages" of the Most Aw fnl Kinds of Torture. The place of torment to which all wicked Buddhists are to be assigned on the day of final reckoning is a ter rible place of punishment. This Buddhistic hell is divided into eight "easy stages." In the first the poor victim is compelled to walk for un told ages in his bare feet over hills thickly set with redhot needles, points upward. In the second stage the skin Is all carefully filed or rasped from the body and irritating mixtures ap plied. In the third stage the nails, hair and eyes are plucked out and the denuded body sawed and planed into all sorts of fantastic shapes. The fourth stage is that of "sorrowful lam entations." In the fifth the left side of the body and the denuded head are carefully roasted, Yema, the Buddhis tic Satan, superintending the work. In the sixth stage the arms are torn from the body and thrown into an immense vat among the eyes, nails and hair pre viously removed. Then in plain hear ing of the sore footed, blind, maimed, roasted and bleeding victim the whole horrid mass is pounded Into a Jelly. In the seventh stage the other side of the victim and his feet are roasted brown, and then comes the eighth and last stage, in which the candidate Is thrown into the bottomless pit of per dition. No. 26. FOOD PRESERVATIVES. "= A Comparison Between Salleylle Acid nod Svfar or Salt. All of the most common food pre servatives are constituents of the food we cat. Nature herself has put them Into our food. We have been consum ing them since time began. Our sav age ancestors consumed them for mil lenniums before us. Two grains of salicylic acid will pre serve a ponnd of food for a reasonable length of time. A grain is the amount most commonly used. In order to preserve the same amount of food with equal safety one pound of sugar would lie required. In fifteen pounds of well preserved food there would be thirty, grains of salicylic acid. It is a very common thing for physicians to admin ister to their patients thirty grains at a dose and keep up the for many days with benefit to the pa-" " tient. Fifteen pounds of food preserv ed to an equal extent by sugar would require fifteen pounds of sugar. How long does the reader suppose that any person could retain good health if they undertook to eat fifteen pounds of sugar at a single sitting and keep tak ing such doses for weeks at a time? As n grain of salicylic acid will pre serve more food with equal certainty than an ounce of salt and as fifteen grains of salicylic acid would equal in preserving power over a pound of salt; who would hesitate in choosing the : alternative doses of thirty grains of salicyclic acid or of two pounds of table salt? One pound of salt is a fa tal dose.— Dr. R. G. Eccles in Public Opinion. SPIDER SILK. The War the Thread la Taken Front the Imprisoned Insect. The American consul at Tamatave, Madagascar, sends an interesting re port on the manufacture of silk from spiders' web. The first difficulty in securing the thread direct from the Madagascar spider ("halabe," big spider, the na tives call her) was met with in devis ing a suitable holder to secure the liv ing spider winding off the web. This was originally performed by con fining the spiders in empty match. boxes with their abdomens protruding, thus making so many living reels. The extraction of the does not ap parently inconvenience the insects, al though care has to be taken not to In jure them. From that stage has been evolved a frame of twenty-four small guillotines, in each of which a spider is secured in such a manner that on one side protrudes the abdomen, while on the other the head, thorax and legs are free. The precaution of keeping the legs out of the way is necessary, because the spiders, when their secre tion is spun off In this fashion, are liable to break off the web with their legs. The spider submits without resist ance to the widing off of its thread* After the laying period or formation o< the web it can be reeled off five or six times in the course of a month, after which the spider dies, having yielded about 4,000 yards. Native girls do the work. Jftrrow Eionpei. An Edinburgh minister rolled a thou sand feet down the steeps of Ben Nevis and lived to tell the tale. Ad miral Sir Novell Salmon was clean shot through at Lucknow and returned as dead, but came up smiling soon afterward. Similar was Lord Wolse ley's experience in the Crimea; but, though pretty well riddled with Bhot and shell and deprived 6f the sight of an eye, he was able soon after to en- Joy a laugh over his own obituary. Not long ago there was a girl up on trial in a Louden police court who had twice attempted to commit suicide, but two trains had passed over her and left her unscathed. A COSTUY BREAKFAST. Whrn V.gga Were Worth Their Weight In Gold la San Franelaeo. Hens' eggs were worth their weight In gold, writes Thomas E. Farish In one of his stories of the very early, days in san Francisco. A couple of young men who had recently landed from Tennessee dropped Into Aldrlch's for breakfast one morning. Not being aware of the rarity and consequent prices of eggs in California and having five dollars still left with which to pay, for breakfast for two, they calmly or dered their usual breakfast of eggs and toast. When the bill was presented the young gentleme» saw, to their con sternation, that tho amount was 110. They had only §5. What was to be done? After a consultation together it waa decided that one of them should remain while the other went out to look for Colonel Gift, an old time friend whom they knew to be In the city. The colo nel was soon found, who, after hearing the story of his young friend and ask ing who was with him, inquired what they had had for breakfast "Eggs," was tho reply. "Eggs! Eggs!" exclaimed the colo nel. "Did you not know, you blankety blank fool, that hens lay gold in Cali fornia?" "I did not, but I do," said our young friend. "Well," continued the colonel kindly, handing over a fifty dollar gold 6lug, "take this and remem ber after this that you are not in Ten nessee, where eggs are given away." THE GAME OF GOLF. A Pastime of Kind, With • Record of Over Fonr Hundred Year*, A game with a history of more than 400 years must necessarily have some interesting records. Golf has been greatly liked by kings. In the time of James I. it was generally practiced by all classes. The unfortunate Charles I. was devoted to golf. While on a visit in Scotland in 1641, as he was deeply engaged in a game news was brought him of the breaking out of a rebellion in Ireland, and the royal golfer threw down his club and retired in great agi tation to Holyrood House. When he was Imprisoned at Newcastle his keeper kindly permitted him to take recreation on the golfing links with his train. It Is said that Mary, queen of Scots, was seen playing golf in the field beside Seaton a few days after the murder of her husband. In 1837 a magnificent gold medal was present- to St Andrew's by William IV., to be played for annually. One of the earlier kings forbade the importation of golf balls from Holland because it took away "ua small quantitie of gold and silver out of the kingdome of Scotland," and at one time "golfe aw}" - futeball and other unprofitable games" were forbidden In England because archery, so necessary in the defense of the nation, was being neglected in their favor.—Pearson's Weekly. Saner. E 11th—I told Mr. Converse the othejfc night that I resembled him in one re spect. Clare— What was that? Edith— _ That I always enjoyed hearing him " I
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers