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