THE BUTLER CITIZEN. VOL. XXXXII. THE MODERN STORE- Flannelettes. ; We have over 6000 yf-rds new Flannelettes suitable for j Petticoats. Kimonas, Chil Irens Dresses, Wrappers, etc.—all bought at . lowest figures and sold accordingly. 30 pes- good wide heavy Flannelettes at He yd. ; 50pea. Teazledown and Daisy Cloth, best goods of its kind -plain and (i fancy colors—loc yd. : 25 pea fancy fleeced back Armure Cloth. Pacific Fonlards, etc , smt , able for wrappers and dressing sacqnes, 10c yd. Moleskin— a heavy fleeced material—beautiful patterns—l-i yd. Velvetta—extra heavy velvet finished outing cloth— handsome pat terns—lßc yd. i New waistings in Cotton and Wool and New Plaid silks just in. : EISLER-MARDORF CO T PAN Y, E »OUTH KACT STKirr \ QA4 1 1"I Sam P les sent on request. OPPOSITE HOTEL^A^IJNGTON^^^^^BUTLER^^^^^g Handsome Carpets | . matter how Hne W expense needn't debar you from getting a cheerful, rA f fj attractive home. Look these figures over: F Mattings —Chinese or Japanese designs in mixed k| colors, per yard, 18c, 20c, 22c, 25c and 30c. FJ j. Carpets of Tapestry— Axminster — Brussels — kl Velvet —Ingrain and Rag from 25c up. rJ Rugs —9xl2 — in Art Ingrains—Grass —Tapestries [ : \ Axminsters and Body Brussles at $5.50, SB, $9.50, ri | $ 12, $ 17, $ 18, $22, $25 and up. kl I While looking at our carpet line—see the many TA | , bargains in furniture we are now offering. BROWN 8c CO. f] J No. 136 North Main St., Butler. M | Fall and Winter j \ 1905-1906. < \ We are ready for you with our Fall and Winter line? I of Men's, Boys' and Children's Suits, and such patterns\ c and style —you never saw their equal. We. are always\ i the early bird with up-to-date ideas. You buy early andj ) we are prepared to show you just when you are ready toC ; buy. n / Men's Suits, the richest patterns you ever saw for sls, / 0. \ SIB.OO, $20.00, $22.50 and $25.00, all hand-made, hand- < \ felled collars and hand-quilted breasts in coats; patterns \ VtO please the most fastidious —same to say of our Boys \ v and Children's Clothing. We sell the best qualities and / /styles, We sell at the lowest price. j / See window display, and buy early. S \ Douthett & Graham. \ J INCORPORATED. I Huselton's j I FALL WEAR. 1 I THE FALL STYLES SHOWN AT B B OUR STORE EMBRACE LOOKS B B FOR EVERT LIKING AND A fl B GRACEFUL, COMFORTABLE FIT fl fl FOR EVERY FOOT. fl I EXFERT FITTERS TO SEE THAT p 'f fl YOU ARE FITTED TO THE S fl SHOES FOR YOUR FEET. g| fl THE PRICES RANGE FROM $1 fl TO $4.00 AND EACH SHOWS A || fl WIDE CHOICE OF STYLES IN fl fl THE LEATHERS THAT WILL fl fl BE POPULAR THIS FALL AND |g fl WINTER. M ® IT WILL AFFORD US GREAT fl M PLEASURE TO HAVE YOU LOOK fl lg OVER OUR FALL STYLES. | I HUSELTON'S I I 102 N. Main Street. fl r Trp The CITIZ6N FOR JOS WORK When a Woman Needs Notions | She usunllv wants them at once. Oirr notion counter is filled with the little things that go with dress mak ing and repairing. Buttons, tapes, seam bindings, pins, dress shields', hooks and eyes, needles—all the i countless articles are here for immediate delivery. Some of these you ought to have at home in ad\ance. If your stock has run low come in—see how quickh and willingly we 11 meet your demands. UNDERWEAR. We've kept our eyes open for chances to obtain the sort of underwear that s going to lit well, feel w< l and wear well —and yet be sold at prices you li ap prove. Now, if you'll come in you will see just how well we've succeeded in finding the \er\ ligbt tilings in these important items of woman's and children s wear. . . It pays to visit u> when you need notions, under wear, hosiery, gloves, lx*lt>. ribbons, corsets, etc. L. Stein & Son, 108 N MAIN STREET, BUTLER, PA 0 Bickers Fall Footwear, [j pi largest Stock and Most Handsome Styles of M # Fine Footwear we Have Ever Shown. T4 CADAC3C 6UAFC Twenty Fall Styles—Dongola, Patent- fA OWKvuIJ Jn bid anc'l Fine Calf Shoes made in the Ikl VA latest ut. to d«te styles Extremely large stock of Misses' and Chil- dren's shoes in irnny new and pretty styles for fall 7 if i/J* CHACC Shoeing all the latest styles in Mens B j L IrlCn 3 oilUtJi p jnp gh wßi a i| leathers, *2 an<l *<J. r J VA Complete StAck of Boy*', Youths' and Lit.le Gents' Fine Shoes. Bargains in School Shoes, » J High-cut cojiper-too shoes for Boys and good water proof School Y& Shoes for Girls. . _ ~ .wl Large stock of Women's Heavy Shoes in Kangaroo-calf and TJm wl Oil Grain for country wear, M Rubber and Felt Goods. 4 WA . Our stock of Rubber and Felt Goods is extremly large and A kTI owing to the large orders which we placed we were able to get very A 1 close prices and are in a position to oiler yon the lowest prices for r 3 V A best grades of Felts and Rubber Goods. , , M J A An immense business enables ns to name the very lowest f prices for reliable footwear. '2 When in need of anything in our }ine give us a call 4 Repairing Promptly Done. j 3 JOHN BICKELH m 1 # Ltff MEN I'Tv, nr? ill Won't buy clothing for the purpose of |J I) .iWy I W^ijji t l| spending money. They desire tp get the IITTI it// I*l I I\J 1 li Those who buy custom clothing have a L —' j fIT right to demand a fit, to have their clothes i r IKSF P correct in style and to demand of the /* V seller to guarantee everything. Come to JLj\ f. '' I us and there will be nothing lacking. I ''lß have just received a large stock of Fall I and Winter snitings in the latest styles, %|f| | 8 shades and colors. \u|PJI I G. F. KECK, \_iJJ Ifws 142 N. Main St., Rutl?r, Pa * Ml' Do More Work, $ $ Belter Work, $ g Witb Less Work j| « ITfSrl Than any other Washer* 1 _ on the market. 1 is | I J. G. &W. CAMPBELL, j ; BUXLER, PA. jg Our Grand Clearance Sale last month was a big success. The clothing buying public of Butler saved themselves many dollars by this sale. , J r To be candid with you, friends, it was the sale of all sales. It left us with some odd lots of goods, which we will sell at our August Grand Clearance Sale. SCHAUL& LEVY SUCCESSOR TO SCHAUL & NAST, 137 South Main Street, Butler, Pa. BUTLER, PA., THURSDAY. SEPTEMBER 14. 1905. In the Dunes Copyright, WOS, by Hcraore Willsie Lake Michigan is covetous of her eastern shore. Year after year her sands creep inland. Inch by inch, mile by mile, now a peach orchard is smoth ered, now a mellow wheatfield is blotted out, and in their stead scrub pines thrive and sand burs sprawl ia the sun. Year by year the scrub pines grow stouter and the sand burs tangle thicker and thicker, and with each year the desolation of the sand dune country Increases. Roads tormed one month are shifting dunes the next. Inland lakes, once green aud lovely, slowly and mercilessly are choked un til only sand skirted pools remain. And still the desolation grows. Katlierine and her Great Dane hud dled together under »'.e ccrub pine and watched the gray of the twilight turn to purple. "Well, we're lost, Jacky," she said, "just plain lost! The hunting lodge ought to be over in that direction, but it's not, and they have supper so late they won't miss us for another hour. How would It seem to spend the night in the sand burs, do you suppose, Jacky?" Jacky whined and laid his great head in the girl's lap. She rubbed his ears absentmindedly and started off over the dunes. "I'm not frightened," she said. "I'm just—Just lonely. Well, let's empty our shoes, Jacky, and start on." The low shoes once more securely tied, Katlierine picked up the bit of fl«h rod with which as a staff she had strolled from camp early in the after noon and struggled to the top of the dune, the dog trudging beside her, with now and again a growl at the shadowy pines. From the top of this heap of sand she saw another heap looming through the dusk. Down she waded, now leaning on her bit of bamboo, now holding to Jacky'a collar, until from the top of this she discovered a third bur crowned dune. On the top of the third dune she dropped down to rest, while the dog crouched on her skirts, witb watchful ears pricked forward. Suddenly he gave a little yelp and ran into tho dusk. "Jacky!" called the girl. Then she strugled after him through the heavy sand. "Why," she said, "It's another little lake! Look out, Jacky; don't drink too much. I'm not thirsty enough to drink water I can't see. Why, how soft this sand is! Jacky—it—why—l'm in way above my ankles!" She floundered toward the dog as he turned |qward her with a whine, the instinctive desire in danger of the liv ing for the living. "Oh, Jacky, it's one of the quicksand bars!" Trembling and panting, the dog threw himself against her knees, while his whinea changed to sharp yelps. In vafn Katberlne struggled to draw her feet from the sand. It had closed about each foot with the grip of giant hands thaf insistently, silently drew her down. She stooped and felt Jacky'a batfk. Already the quivering sands were half way up his legs. As she felt of him his yelping ceased. He reached up and licked the face bending over him. Then he crouched low, while Katherine felt bis great muscles swell and stiffen. Then suddenly he hurled himself forward with all the strength of his lean, magnificent body and in three leaps had disappeared into the dusk. Katherine gave a low sob. "Oh, Jacky, how could you leave me?" Again, summoning all her strength, she strove to follow him. But the struggle was worse than use less. And now the calm that had pos sessed her left her. She stooped and scooped at the aand about her ankles with' bare hands, diggiug frantically, with low moans not unlike Jacky's. Handful after handful, then a pause, while she stared out into the darkness with shrieks for help. The sand had crept above her knees With broken uutls sue stopped to listen. Yes, far out across the dunes she heard a man's shout aud Jacky's excited bark, and again she raised her own hoarse cry. Then she heard the crackle of BftUd burs, "Katherine, for heaven's sake, where are you?" His voice! "Go back, Hugh—go back! I'm in the quicksand!" Silence from the shore, then: "-Stay !>erfectly still- J'U be out there in a 'ew miuutes, I'm going to cut pine boughs to walk on." In utter thankfulness Katherine stood sileut. Theu surprise swept over her. Hugh! That was Hugh, whom she had not seen or heard of for a year, not since shp had tossed tne ring—the wedding ring—back to him and said: "Well, six months have shown us what a fuddle we have made of mar riage. Let's have sense enough to stop now. We evidently don't care enough to give in to each cither," Without a word Hugh had taken the ring and left her. And now to be found this way, and by him! In si lence she watched the path he made p-ow out toward her and In silence Vard Jacky's excited greetings to her from the shore. Then, afte" what seemed a lifetime of battle with a ureeptng sand, the man lifted her In his arms and silently carried her to the shore. She lay quietly, while the dog fawned about her and the man, a broad shouldered figure in the summer darkness, brushed the sand from her skirts and emptied her sodden shoes. "What «m I to do with you, Kather ine?" he asked. "I eot lost from eauiD." she an- swered. "I don't kUW- Show we the way back, and I'll go when I'm rested. I don't want that coward Jacky, though." "I was driving out to Camp Minitka. I didn't know you were there. John asked me—to effect a reconciliation, I ■uppose. It is like him. Jacky was running about among the burs, whin ing. Theu he saw me and literally dragged me out of the buckboard and down here. I shall drive you bactt to wmp and then return to town." The girl put her arm about the dog, aud he snuggled dowu beside her with a deep sigli. "That will be best, I suppose," s'ie said. ' I tldnk 1 shall leave you here," Hugh went on, "while I go back for the horse. It must be three-quarters of a mile away." He pulled off his coat, wrapped it about Katherine's shoulders and strode off Into the dark ness. Katheriue lay in tl»a warm saud close to Jacky, who watched her every movement, she was not at all afraid. It seemed to her that, after the won der of her rescue, she never again could know fear. Little by little the stars grew brighter and the answering glow of the saud seeuied lllte the half light of gogie strapjge new flawo- At By HONOR.E WILLSIE first she lay without articulate thought, thaukful to be alive, to feel the warmth of the sand and of the great dog beside her, to rest her strained muscles. Then suddenly the past year, which had seemed to her so heroic, so sacri ficial, seemed very useless and shal low. "I must find some new thing to do," she thought. "Hugh has gone on in his work. I must find work for my self." She moved closer to. the dog and half unconsciousls* raised her head from the sand to listen for the crackle of sand burs under heavy boots. Then almost without warning Hugh stood beside her. "Can you walk," he said, "or shall I carry you?" "Oh. I can walk," she answered as he helped her to her feet. They walked 1 in silence to the buckboard. Hugh untied the horse and, reins in hand, stood waiting to help her. Katlierine stared at the man. She seemed to have awakened from a dream. "And I've missed a whole year." she said. "And who am Ito set myself in judgment of us both? Hugh," with a pitiful little inflection of humil ity in her voice that was as strange to her own ears—"Hugh, will you—shall we try again?" For one moment he stared at the drooping head of the girl. "Dear!" he said after awhile, and, gathering her in his arms, he climbed into the buck board, and, with Jacky following close behind, they drove slowly oft into the summer night. Fenrlnß Fop E*erpi»e. The enormous value of continual practice with the foils as a means of securing and preserving good health Is, lu my humble opinion, the main reason for the steady hold of fenc'ag upon public favor In France and Italy. It is only of late years that the attention be stowed by medical men upon physical exercise, in France at least, where Dr. Lagrange's treatises have become classical, has given prominence to the worth of fencing as a health factor. Every one knows, or, rather, every one should know, that feuciHg presses into service every muscle of the human frame, that it creates and develops suppleness and quickness, that prac ticed lu youth it Imparts a freedom and grace of motion absolutely unattain able by other means, that it is not a violent exercise In so far as Injury by strain Is involved and, finally, that Its perils are comparatively few. At very remote intervals one hears of a fatal Injury resulting, almost Invariably from a cheap or damaged mask or from the foolhardy practice of exercis ing without the usual head or chest covering or with an ill buttoned foil. The proportion of mishaps to the num ber of fencers, however, is infinitesi mal.—Frederick A. Schwab lu Outing. A Louk Walk. The dear old professor was one of the kindest hearted men in the world, but he was also one of the most ab sentmlnded. He was recently visit ing his newly married nephew, and, naturally, the young wife was full of the praises of her firstborn. The pro fessor listened like a man in a dream to her recital of the remarkable forti tude with which he cut his teeth and his truly wonderful intelligence. At last the dear old fellow woke up with a start aud felt he really must say •omething for the sake of at any rate appearing interested. "Can the dear little fellow walk?" he Inquired mild ly. "Walk?" said the proud mother. "Why, he bAS been walking six mopths!" "Dear me!" said the pro fessor, iapsing once rnore Into abstrac tion. "What a long way he must have got!" American Claba All Wrong. "American clubs are few and small," said a social philosopher, "because they exist on a radically wrong principle. This principle Is that club life is an extravagance, wheroas the right prin ciple of club life Is that it is an econ omy. "London is the club city of the world. Why are London's clubs so splendid and so popular? Because a man can "Jue, drink, smoke and amuse himself n {hem almost as cheaply as in his own house—far and away more cheap ly than in a cafe or a hotel. "Hence in London every man desires to Join a good club, for a London club 1$ nn institution that actually saves Its members money. But bore in Amer ica our clubs are conducted extrava gantly, and it is an extravagance to belong to them. Only the very pros perous American can afford to be a rlnbmaiv"—Philadotohla Bulletin. THE HOTEL CHILD. ■anger* That Be«et the LtoklfM Off spring of ReatleM Phrent». It is not the material aidjq ex istence which are tho bttno of t£e. hotel child; it Is the mental and spirltu&J at titude accompanying this life which is to be deprecated: It destroys a democratic spirit throogh emphasizing the difference between tne servant and the served, it exaggerates the power of money, foster? a spirit of deoead enee and unfits the pamperal Individ ual for any pther kjad of Hfe t snd, worst of all, In fl child so'broughj -up there can be no understanding or lt>Ve of home. .There may be svmq future for the chifd *w«bo knows nothing of art, some .functlqp for thjo one to .whom literature makesappeal tyid who Is not sensitive to. mpsU?, but there U no place In the state for th«r man who.-bas neither Initiative, seif reliance, patriot ism nor lOV9 of home. Be Is A SOCIA! menace, a disease. Jhe community Is better off without this satellite 01 the manager, parasite of the bell boy and source of supply for the waiter. If there is one child Jn our commun ty who Is superfluous it is tUO hot* child. Asplaces for temporary occu pation by homeless and childless adults hotels are to be tolerated,.butrM resi dences for children Jlhey ar« Without the possibility'of 8. Bensley in Everybody's 'M&gaw&4- Carefully Led l'p To. "Yonder," said the party of the first part, "is the house In which I was born. We lived on the first lloor. Mcßooth Rantln&taß, the great tragedian, oceu pled the upper apartments. He was not only a famous actor, but a singu larly fortunate man." "Then," responded the party of the second part, "you were born under a lucky star, eh?" N. B.—The management begs to state that it considers this one of the most elaborately worked out jokes we have produced this season. —Louisville Cou rier-Journal. Woman') Presence. What a consoler is woman! No pres ence but hers can win a man from his sorrow. The soldier becomes a light some boy at her feet; tho anxious statesman smiles himself back to the free hearted youth beside her and the still and shaded countenance of care brightens beneath her influence, as the .tosed flower blooms in the sunshine.— I American Queen. AMUSING JOKES. tnme That Have Been Played ®n .Members of Belrutlflp Societies. Nothing Is so funny—to the joker as the development of a practical joke or hoax, and the most learned are soma times fooled in this way, to their great discomfiture. An amusing hoax was perpetrated on the learned members of the Dumfries Antiquarian society of London, when an alleged Greek charm, said to have been taken from the dead body of a Bedouin, was presented for their inspection and admiration. It was said to have been an heirloom in the Bedouin's family for many centu ries and consisted of a scrap of skin on which was transcribed a mysterious legend. It was circulated among the members of the august body of the An tiquarian society until it fell into the hands of Dr. Sample, who. amid much amusement, deciphered the hieroglyph ics as "Old Bob Ridley, O," the refrain of an old song. One of the best of these Jokes was practiced with considerable success by an eighteenth century wit, who pro fessed to have unearthed an undent memorial slab on which this epitaph was just decipherable: BENE A. TH. TH. ISST. ONERE. POS ET. H. CLAVD. COS TER TRIP E. SfcLERO. F. IMP. IN. GT. ONAS, DO. TH. HI. S C. ON. 80R. T. J. A. N. E. In vain did archaeologists and lin guists rack their brains to find a solu tion of this cryptic Inscription, which its discoverer "humbly dedicated to the penetrating geniuses of Oxford, Cambridge, Eton and the learned So ciety of Antiquaries," and it was only when it had driven the cleverest men In England almost out of their wits that the following reading was sug gested by the hoaxer: "Beneath this stone reposeth Claud Coster, tripe sell er, of Impington, as doth his consort Jane." That, too, was a clever, if rather heartless. Joke which Steevens, the Shakespeare scholar, played on Gough, known to posterity as the author of "Sepulchral Monuments." Gough had criticised a drawing by Steevens ra ther mercilessly, the latter forth with planned a revenge which should hold up antiquity to ridicule. Procur ing a flat piece of stone, he scratched on it, In Anglo-Saxon characters, the inscription, '"Here nardenut drank a winehorn dry, stared about him and died," and had it exposed in a shop which Gough was In the habit of visit ing. A few days later Gough called at the shop, saw the slab, which, he was told, had been found in Kennlngton lane on the supposed site of Hardlcanute's pal ace, aud, overjoyed at his good fortune, carried It off In triumph as a discovery of rare antiquarian vftlue. LJ showed It with pride to his fellow members of the Society of Antiquaries, a paper was written on it, a learned discussion followed and the inscription was pub lished in the Gentleman's Magazine. Steevens' triumph was complete when he took the public into his secret and laughed with them, but what his vic tim's feelings and language were It would not have been possible to ex press in print. Something over fifty years ago the Ingenuity of antiquarians was tested by a legend faintly traced on a time worn slab of stone which, so its dis coverer said, had been unearthed dur ing some excavations In Cumberland. This was the inscription: TH. ISI SAHAR. DNU. TOC. RA C. K. But what language was It and what could it mean? The accepted opinion was that the legend referred in some way to Hardlcanute or Hardnut, but beyond that speculation even was dumb, until the wicked joker had the effrontery to confess that he himself had chiseled the inscription, of which the true translation was: "This is a hard nut to crack." And so it was.— London Answers. Jealomi of Imaginary Ills. "Talk of a woman's jealousy of her husband," said a physician of long experience In New York. "It is noth ing compared to her jealousy of an other woman's chronic ailments. Half the doctors would starve if it werQ not for the prevalence of Illnesses that are purely imaginary. Of course, it does not do for us to tell a woman who has firmly made up her mind that she Is ill that she Is not 111. In nine cases out of ten she would lose her temper and consult another doctor. Among certain women invalidism | gives them a distinction which is gratifying to their self love. They may literally be said to 'enjoy poor health.' They look for the doctor's visit to I them or their call at his office as the most exciting event of the day. If they know him well enough, they Im plore him to waive professional eti quette and toll them about ailments of other women who consult him. Wo men of this description—and they are legion—have a craving for martyrdom, which doctoring an Imaginary Illness seems to satisfy."—New York Times. The One I'oriou. There was a certain old New Eng land minister who had a blunt way of getting right at the bottom of things. With a solemn air he announced from the pulpit one day that a button had Aeen found in the collection. "Only one Individual in the church could have been guilty of this trick," he said, "and I shall expect tills person to replace the button with a coin." After service a member of the church owned up to being the culprit and asked: "How did you know I was thu man?" "I did not know," said the clergyman. "But you said only one person could have done it." "Just so," was the reply. "Two persons could not have put th« same button on the plate." BITS FROM THE WRITERS. There Is nothing in life worth mak ing a secret of —except one's income.— Seton Merriman. Civilization means universal civility, and to be civil to everybody argues a great power of telling lies.—Eden Fhill potts. How exquisite in life is tlieTlrt of not seeing many things aud of forgetting many that have been seen!—lames Lane Allen. Truisms, whether they lie in tho depths of thought or on the surface, are at any rate the pearls of experi ence.—George Meredith. Have you never observed that if you conscientiously neglect to do your work it somehow manages to get done with out you?— Henry Ilarland. Relations, as somebody said, are dis agreeable acquaintances Inflicted upon us by Providence. But It is no use losing one's temper about what they say. It only pleases them.—Richard Bagot. There's mu»Jc In all things, if men had ears.— Byron. MISTAKEN JU IDENTITY By FRANK H. SWEET Copyright, 1905, by Frank H. Sweet The train stopped only a few mo ments, but the conductor and a porter bustled out, with deference in their every movement, and assisted the one ladv into the car with much bowing. The train was already in action again when Enos stumbled breathlessly up the steps and sought to enter the car. The conductor was standing inside the door. "This is a parlor car, sir," he said. "Oh, that's all right," Enos answered quickly. '-Extra, I s'pose?" "Of course; but I doubt if there's any uno'ccupied space. Torter!" The car attendant was just return ing from the lady's chair. He stopped inquiringly, dusting cloth in hand. "Have you any spare seats?"' "Just one, sah, down t'other end." "Very well. Give it to this gentle man." The conductor turned as he spoke and preceded him a few paces down the car, then stopped and bent over the chair of a lady. As he passed, Enos leaned toward her with a diffident "Hello, Martha," but the increasing noise of the train drowned his voice, and lie stumbled on with crimsoning face. The lady had not even perceived him. Enos followed the porter througli the car. hat in hand, with a feeling that he was intruding Into some one's drawing room. Passengers were seated or re clining in various attitudes—some read ing. some talking, but most of them with their attention fixed upon the chair over which the conductor was leaning. Enos had never been in a drawing room car before, but even amid all this elegance and among these strangers he perceived that Martha was understood and appreciated better than he had understood and appreciated her himself. He heard a subdued "Who is she?" from one side and a "Don't know, but evidently a somebody," from the other. He turned his chair so that he could watch her and still not be especially conspicuous. The conductor or porter was ut her chair every few minutes trying to devise new means for her comfort. Curtains were drawn or raised, a ventilator opened to let in more air, the window closed to keep out a draft. Even the paper boy seemed to catch the infection, for he was continually leaving periodicals for her to examine at her leisure. Euos watched her with mingled feel ings of surprise and pleasure and per haps with some depression. Heretofore he had looked upon her as in a way be longing to him. Now, with the entire car paying her homage, he wondered nt his audacity. He wished that ho had been bold enough to ask straight out to be her escort on this little trip instead of watching over her, as he was, from a distance. He wished that he had pressed his suit more assidu ously and marveled at his presumption in pressing it as strongly as he had. The conductor came through the car, and a man in the next chair reached out and touched his arm. "Can you tell me who she is?" he asked in a low voice. "Tile car seems to be getting curious over so much at tention." The conductor answered in a voice equally low, but Enos caught the words. "She's Mrs. Roche, wife of Cattle King Roche, you know. He's making a deal for our railroad. That's why our management is anxious to show him attention. We received notice that she would take our train at a certain point and for us to show her all the courtesy In our power. Seems a very nice little woman, but a little. Just a little, too pleased with everything. Gives one an impression that she hasn't traveled much. But I have heard that Roche made his money very suddenly, so per haps the attention Is a little over whelming." Enos had turned away before this and was again watching Martha. He had heard that a man of the name of Roche was negotiating for the railroad, and he now allowed his glance to wan der up the car, finally fixing upon a richly dressed woman in the chair be yond Martha as the one who was a lit tle overwhelmed by attention. She did look Keif conscious and, he thought, just a little supercilious too. As they stood upon the platform at their destination a half hour later watching the train glide away Martha saw Enos turn toward her, not slowly and diffidently, as was his wont, but with head erect and both hands out. And somehow after the experience on the train it did not seem strange, but rather a natural sequence. To have seen him awkawrd and ill at case just then would have been a shock. It was so much nicer for men to be easy and courteous, and Enos was king among men. She put her hands into his naturally. Impulsively. "Oh, Enos," she breathed, "wasn't it beautiful? I never Imagined it could be so nice in a train. Why didn't you *«JI me?" "Well, I don't reckon I knew," he ac knowledged frankly. "I was never in one of these parlor cars before, and It isn't so awfully nice In one of the others when it's crowded' with folks. But say, Martha," still holding her hands and allowing something to come into his voice which she had never heard there before, but which brought a soft color to her cheeks, "you looked awfully pretty In those nice clothes, the prettiest I have seen. There wasn't a woman iu the car who could touch nu la looks, not even the one who'# to Juy the railroad. I just sat and looked at you and wished I'd got things set tled more solid and wondered If I'd ever dare to speak to you at all. But I just can't wait any longer, Martha"— his voice quivering with suspense—"not a minute. Do you s'pose you could learn to love me a little —not all at once, you know, but just a little at a time, as you can. I didn't intend to be so hasty and inconsiderate, but that ride seems to have stirred me all up somehow. But don't you feel upset, Martha. Just take all the time you want to think it over, dear." The flush deepened. I»ld she hear aright? Had that last word really come from Euos' slow Hps? "I don't need any time to think it over, Enos," she answered in a low voice, but firmly. "I do love you." She mißlit have added that this an swer had been ready and waiting for him more than ten years. "No; do you really, Martha?" lie made an impulsive movement, but was suddenly conscious that the plat form was well filled with people aud that some of them were looking nt him curiously. "I'll get a carriage for you, dear," he said hurriedly, "and—and I guess, If No. 36, you ilou't mind, 1 11 ride along. I never have ridden with you yet—not right close t>y. you know." When the carriage was procured tra<r he had helped her in, almost timidly, she looked up into his face. "I don't believe that I ever shall for get that train ride, Enos," the said. 'Nor I." heartily. "Sitting there watching you and seeing all the men round made me hasty and inconsider ate. Rut I'm glad of it now. I suppose it might have been a long time before I felt I d a right to speak." She caught her breath suddenly, her face paling. "Oh, Enos," she whispered, "I—l nev er paid them. You told me about get ting a ticket, but I was late, and they hurried me to the par and were so alee to me that I—l never thought about paying. What shall I do? And they were so awfully nice too." He looked puzzled. "It does seem sort of funny," he ac knowledged. "Gonerally they're pretty particular about pay. I wonder they didn't ask" "They didn't want to hurt my feel ings, Enos. They were awfully nice, but I'm so ashamed." He considered a moment. "You—we don't want to be beholden to them any." he said warmly. "I reck on I'd better meet that same train to morrow and settle with the conductor." "If only you would," In a relieved voice. So the next day Euos was at the ita tion, and when the polite conductor reached the platform he was the first to accost him. A few minutes and the puzzled look left his face, and presently he turned away chuckling. But he only told Martha that there had been a mistake and that the con ductor had accepted the money and asked to be remembered to her. Overreached Himself. An old farmer had a choice lot of cows, and a neighbor, seeing the herd in the pasture, asked for how much he could have his pick of one. "Twen ty-flve dollars," said the owner. "All right. I'll be around tomorrow and select one." The next day the owner of the cows told his hired man to drive the only poor cow in the lot to the barn. Soon the buyer put In an appenrance to buy a cow. He missed one, however, and was suspicious. "How is this? You said I could have my pick of the lot. Where Is that other cow?" "Oh, that cow you don't want," said the owner. "She 1s old and no good, so I placed her In the barn. You don't want her." But the buyer insisted on having that cow. He , suspected she was the best one of the i lot. "All right, then," said the seller. "Drive that cow out, Jobn." The cow was driven out, and the buyer would not look at the rest, but pur chased her at once and drove her heme. A day or two afterward he came back and accused the seller of cheating him and wanted him to take the cow back, but the old fellow refused, saying that the buyer had had his pick. Economy of Spape. When Henry Ward Beecher was on a trip to the far west many years ago he was visited at his hotel In a little mining town by a local celebrity, a man noted as a hunter and scout, and the great preacher was especially cor dial to him. After the caller had gone away one of Mr. Bee Cher's traveling companions took him to taßk. *'l marvel at the warmth of your greeting to that man," he said. "Why?" "Didn't you notice his eyefl— bow. re markably close together they were? That is a bad sign." "Not in his case," said Mr. Beecher. "Didn't you observe his nose? It to) V high awl thin—the nose of a great man. With a nose like that, why should his eyes waste space by sprawling wide apart? The man Is all right." Mr. Beecher's Judgment of his caller was correct, as subsequent history at tested. Short on K'a. During the early days of NtW. Zea l§nd an apologetic paragraph appeared in an Auckland paper In which the ed'tor explained the absence of lower case "K's" in his Issue. He had fool ishly lent these letters from his font to the government printer, who, having failed to return them, the Indulgent reader would please notice that wher ever a blank space appeared In a word the letter "Iv" was to be understood. There are only fourteen letters In the Maori alphabet, and the letter "K" is used In that language as frequently as Jhe letter "E" in English. A Great Painter'* Bcßlnnlaf. Sir Thomas Lawrence was one of . the great portrait painters in Englaud. His parents were poor, his father be ing a country innkeeper. One day Lord Shaftesbury's father and mother stopped at the inn, having their young er son, the future lord, with them. In conversation the innkeeper spoke of the genius of his boy in drawing and wished them to test it by a picture of their son. They assented, thinking to gratify a father's pride, but not look ing for any evidence of superior talent. The boy came in modestly, with chalk and paper, and In a few minutes had , drawn a picture of their son on which the parents looked with wonder. They recognized the genius and the promise of future greatness and befriended the young artist, giving him the help need ed to develop his wonderful gift The Valunble Palmyra Palm. A Hindoo poem enumerates 800 pur poses to which the Palmyra palm aloue Is put. Among other tilings It supplies paper for writing upon, un intoxicat ing drink called "toddy," large quan tities of sugar fruit and a * egetable for the table when the plants are young. Palm wine is also obtained from the Juice of the sago palm, which yields excellent sugar candy when boil ed. The pith of the trunk forms a large part of the food of the natives In many parts of India. Ropes, brush es and brooms are manufactured fnom the fiber of the leaf stalks. Wondarfnl Eroalon. A curious effect of the wear and tear to which the earth's crust is ever being subjected is exhibited in the sin gularly capped pinnacles existing on South river, in the Wasatch moun tains, in Utah. There are hundreds of ' these slender pillars, ranging In height from 40 to 400 feet, most of them crowned by large caps of stones. They arc not works of human art, as might be Imagined, but are the memorial monuments of the hill from which they have been cut by the action of air and water. Those pinnacles alone re main of many square miles of solid rocks, whicli have been washed away to a depth of some 400 feet. The greater hardness of the surface has caused it to resist corrosion more than the underlying rock, tliu» leaving huge caps of stone perched high iu air on the points of their columns. One dou ble column, capped by a singly stone, forms a natural bridge bdth unjque ufl picturmvs.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers