VOL. XXXXIII.
w The "Black Hand" H
w At Brown & Co's. S
M Not the kind you have been reading of in the
r€ papers recently—but the kind that hurts us and
IJ helps you.
M #—March Ist! March Ist!--# f
F| Our reduction sale on Furniture will positively W
close March Ist. Your opportunity is now F<
j "«i||||-Look at These pricesi-lIlH"- u
4 Mahogany Davenport, was |B3. now
,1 Mahogany Library Caae, was $24.50, n0w.... 16.50 f <
'1 Birdaeye Toilet Table, was sl2, now . 7.00 k
4 Mahogany Toilet Table. waf> sl7, now 11.00 W
Oak B«1 Room Suit, was $45, now 35.00
'A Dresners that were 112 and sl4, now 9.00
This is the way you buy all over this store until March Ist,
►J only. Lot* at the saving—come take your choice of our immense V
A atook and give as tke room at cnce. >
J Carpets! Carpets! Carpets! j
We will continue sale of Carpets as advertised, at COST. <
' Greatly reduced prices on all Brussels carpets and rugs of all
4 fcindu *
k Bring the measure of vour room and make the saving from our |
P laige stock of new patterns. W
[I BROWN & CO. |
n No. 136 North Main St., Butler. ft
MEET THE QUEEN AT
THE MODERN STORE-
Great Muslin Underwear Sale This Week,
'
The crowning event of the year. A multitude of
bargains for the ladies. We contracted for these match
less Queen undermuslins before the great advance in
cottons. See Large Posters for Details.
- Muslin garments of all sizes and Qualities and of
the newest patterns and most handsomely trimmed sold
at prices that will barely cover cost of matte rials.
Prices at 10c, 15c, l»c, 25c, 38c, 50c, 75c, SI.OO. $1.25, $1.50, $1.75, $2
up to $4 90. Now is the time to put in your spring supply. An immense
new line of white goods, ginghams, laces, spring drees goods, veilings,
ribbons, etc, now on display. '
EISLER-MARDORF COrtPANY,
EHIF \ 221 Samples sen, on request.
OPPOSITE HOTEL ARLINGTON. BUTLER. PA
I Duffy's Store 1
I Not one bit too early to think of that new Carpet, orl
■ perhaps you would rather have a pretty Rug —carpet ■
■ size. Well, in either case, we can suit you as our Car-H
■ pet stock )s one of the largest and best assorted in But-H
■ ler county. Among which will be found the following: ■
■ EXTRA BUPER ALL WOOL INGRAIN CARPETS, ■
H Heavy two and three ply 05c per yd and np ■
■ HALF WOOL INGRAIN CARPETS, I
■ Best cotton chain 50c per yd and np H
■ BODY BRUSBELS. ■
H Simply no wear ont to these $1.35 yd H
■ TAPESTRY BRUSSELS. I
H tyght tqade, but yery Qood 65c per yd up H
■ STAIR CARPETS ■
■ Body and Tapestry Brussels, Half and All Wool Ingrains. H
I HARTFORD AXMINBTERS, ■
H Prettiest Carpet made, as durable too $1.85 H
■ RAG CARPETB, Genuine old-fashioned weave. H
I M ATTING, Hemp and Straw. B
■ RUGS-CARPET SIZES. ■
■ Axminster Rugs, Beantiea too $22 each and np H
■ Brussels Rugs, Tapestry and Body sl2 each and up ■
H Ingrain Druggets, All and Half Wool $5 each and up H
■ Linoleums, Inlaid and Common, all widths and grades. H
H Oil Cloths, Floor, Table, Shelf and Stair. H
H Lace Curtains, Portiere, Window Shades, Curtain Poles; Small Hearth ■
■ Rugs, all styles and sizes. H
I Duffy's Store. I
I MAIN STREET, BUTLER. I
WHY
You can save money by purchasing your piano of
T ' W- . NfiWTPN, "The Piano Man/
The expense of running a Music Store Is as follows:
Rent, per annum $780.00
Clerk, per annum $0i2.00
Lights, Heat and Incidentals . , , $194.00
Total $1286.00
I have no store and can save you this expense when you buy of me.
I sell pianos for cash or easy monthly payments. I take pianos or organs in
exchange and allow you what they are worth to apply on the new instrument
All pianos fully warranted as represented.
MY PATRONS ARE MY REFERENCE.
A few of the people I have sold pianos in Butler. Ask them.
Dr. MoCurdy Bricker Dr. W. P. McElroy
Fred Porter Sterling Club
Fraternal Order Eagles D F. Reed
Epworth League Woodmen of the World
■B, W. Binithftta H. A. MePbereon ~»
Geo. D. High " Miss Anna McCandless
W J JMatS k I Black * 7
J. 5 Tbqmpeoß SamuelWoodsj
jooeph Woodg Oliver Thompaan
S. M McKoe John Johnson
A. W Root R. A. Longwell
Miss Eleanor Burton J. Hillgard
Mrs. Mary L. Stroup J. E. Bowers
W. C Curry C. F. Steppn
F. J. Hauck W. J. Armstrong
Miss Emma Hughes Miles Hilliard
A. W. Mates Mrs. S. J. Green
W. R. Williams J. R. Douthett
Mrs. R. O. Rumbaugh E. K. Richey
Chas E. Herr L. S. Youch
PEOPLE'S PHONE 425.
Subscribe for the CITIZEN
-THE BUTLER CITIZEN.
A A A dfc A A ifTi itfc titk A
U BICKEL'S H
v Great Bargain Sale. f]
v An immense Stock of Seasonable Footwear to be * «
i closed out in order to reduce our extremely
> large stock. TJ
I Big Bargains in All Lines, m
i Ladies' Fnr Trimmed Felt Slippers, price *1.25-reduced to . 75c P£
► Ladies' Warm Lined Shoes, price f I.so—reduced to fl.oo I m
j Ladies' Warm Lined Shoes, price $1 2.>— reduced to H.>c la 1
' One lot Ladies' 3.50 Hand-turn and Hand-welt Shoes reduced to 2.20 WA
> One lot Ladies' 300 Fine Patent Leather Shoes, button or lace. I «
red need to. ... ... 3.00 A
{ One lot Ladies' $l5O Fine Dongola Patent tip Shoes reduced to 1.65 WA
) One lot Ladies'l.so Fine Dongoia Patent tip Shoes rednced to 1.10 L'V
i One lot Children's Fine Shoes, sizes 4to 8, reduced to 45c R, l
One lot Infants's Fine Shoes, sizes ft to 4. rednced to 19c W A
► Men's Fine Box-calf, Vici-kid and Patent Leather shoes'. La
i regular price #3.50 and |4.oo—reduced to ~'>o mj
l Men's Working Shoes, regular price s2.oo— reduced to. ....... 140 WA
One lot Boys' Fine Satin-calf Shoes, regular price 1.50-red dto 1.00 I »
k One lot Men's Fine Slippers reduced to _ 40c
Ladies' Lamb-wool Insoles, regular price 25c —reduced to 15c W A
i Misses' and Children's Lamb-wool Insoles, regular price 20c—at 8c
► All Felt Boots and Overs, all Stockings and W
' Overs, Warm-lined Shoes and Slippers, also balance t *
i of our stock of Leggins and Over-Gaiters to be in- m
) eluded in this GREAT BARGAIN SALE.
i Sole Leather and Shoemakers' Supplies. I
> Repairing Piomptly Done. n
JOHN BICKELt
| 128 S Main St., BUTLER. PA.
B y TLER
New buildiflgs, new rooms, elegant new equipment, excellent courses of
study, best of teachers, expenses moderate, terms VERY LIBERAL!
Over $2,000.00 worth of new typewriters in use (allowing advanced students'
from 3 to 4 hours' practice per day), other equipment in proportion!
Winter Term, Jan. 2, 1000. Spring Term, April 2, 190«.
Positions secured for our worthy graduates. Visitors always welcome!
When in Butler, pay us a visit. Catalogue and other literature mailed on ap
plication. MAY ENTER ANY TIME.
A. F. REGAL. Principal, Butler, Pa
jj Fall and Winter Millinery. |
1: Everything in the line of Millinery can be found, $
f f the right thing at the right time at the right price at •*!
j| ROCKENSTEIN'S |
Phone 656. 148 S. Main St.
•
Pre-Inventory
SALE,
Preparatory to the ANNUAL STOCK-TAKING
we will offer remarkable values at our PRE
INVENTORY SALE OF MEN'S AND BOY'S
CLOTHING. Owing to the extensive assort
ment it is impossible to give a detailed descrip
tion of all articles. We have planned to make
this sale of greater importance than ever, and
will place on sale thoroughly reliable and stylish
apparel at figures that are below all possible com
petition. There is something worth investigat-
I ing in every line of the magnetic bargains.
SCHAUL& LEVY
137 South Main Street. Butler. Pa.
r ' .s>{ 7VLEIN
f j , "■ i.
f. , ' -r, j] Won't buy clothing for the purpose of
i [ " spending money. They desire to get the
i! f!! best possible results of the money expended.
U' j ' , Those who buy enstom clothing have a
I i :■ '• j) j t right to demand a fit, to have their clothes
/ST! I • t . . '■ correct in style and to demand of the
/ A\\- -t'-.nj'] seller to guarantee everything. Come to
-Xkyili. C'V 'l. us and there will be nDthine; lacking. I
iq havejnst received a large slock of Fall
i\ ' . lij and Winter anitinga in the latest styles,
[ f \ s ' i? f and colors.
m-l j G..F. KECK,
S.« • wU MERCHANT TAIfeOR,
142 N. Main St., Qutl?r, Pa
I J. Q. &W. CAMPBELL, '
■ J BUI LE, PA.
BUTLER, PA., THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 1900.
r
I THE GIRL AT
THE Y
By SEWARD W. HOPKINS
Copyriyhl. WOO. by K. A. Whitehead
The up express was due to pass at
1 o'clock, but !t did not stop. Graham
would not have been In tlie office at
all, only he had same money in the safe
and had received orders by wire to
sleep in the station that night.
He did not know how much there
was. It had come in a sealed package,
locked in a small pouch. He knew it
was pay day on the new branch then
building en the Ist, and this was the
31st.
"Why can't they send a pay car?"
asked Graham of himself.
"Too confounded mean," he muttered.
The hours dragged slowly, but Gra
ham found some solace in thinking of
Miss Delaine.
Miss Delaine was from Chicago. She
was visiting the daughter of Silas
Jones, whom she had met at school.
Miss Jones was tall, big and strong;
Miss Delaine was dainty.
. Miss Jones, with the advantage of her
boarding school years, dressed well;
' Miss Delaine dressed better.
Graham had suddenly felt a peculiar
sensation when Miss Delaine got off
the local at Naomi. He knew that Silas
was going to have company. He had
no idea the company was built more
on the fleeting vision plan than any
other.
"If Silas don't feed that girl up he
will be all out of company." Graham
had said. "She's almost gone now."
Graham was a husky fellow and had
been at Naomi two months when Miss
Delaine appeared. As Graham board
ed with Silas he had an opportunity to
study her well.
"No more turkey hunts while she's
here," he grumbled to himself.
Miss Delaine took the grumble out
of him when she proposed a shoot, and
the three went to the scrubs, and Miss
Delaine brought down live to his three
and Miss Jones ene.
Miss Delaine proved to have more
get up and get in her diminutive body
than Graham acknowledged in his five
feet ten. She could box big Miss Jones
all over the barn floor; she could climb
a cherry tree In a light summer frock
and come down as neat as she went
np; she could swim better than Miss
Jones and dive as deep as Graham.
She could play the most charming
waltzes and sing the prettiest songs.
She had not been at Naomi two weeks
before she was singing in the choir,
and Graham made the harrowing dis
covery that he sang bass.
So on this night Graham consoled
himself by thinking gloomy thoughts
about Miss Delaine.
"I'd be a fool to ask her and a brute
to expect her to accept if I did ask."
He said this with almost a groan.
"Why couldn't it have been Fan?"
Fan was Miss Jones. "B"'t, no; she'll
marry Larklns, and if Delaine
was poor I'd marry Uer."
He knew she was rich. Sbe had of
ten spoken about "our railroad." James
Delaine was president of the Q. and B.
Disconsolate, he smoked his pipe. He
wondered how much money there was
in the safe. He knew the payroll must
be long.
He had read last Sunday's paper a
dozen times and gone ofT to sleep and
nearly fallen off the chair which he had
tilted back. He had left the door open
for air. The night was warm.
"Hello there, young follor!" came a
voice. He turned toward the door and
looked into the barrel of a big revolver.
"Hold up your hands!"
"Er— I am agent here," stammered
Graham.
"Oil, w* know that. You keep yer
mouth shut. We'll do tbe rest."
"I won't submit to robbery, if that Is
what you mean," said Graham.
"Robbery, eh? Won't submit, eh?
Well, young feller, ye don't look much
like a fool. Under the circumstances
I wouldn't advise yer to be one even If
ye do know how. I've got two partners
here, and the first yawp out of ye will
mean a game o' shootin' big. Now,
Jim."
Another fellow came iu and went
through Graham's pockets.
"Now, young feller," said tlie leader
after Jiiu had deposited an express re
volver on the table, "just tell us the
combination to that safe."
"I refuse."
"What did I say about bein' a fool?
Say, I'll give you three minutes to
make up your mind. You'll either give
us the combination or I'll put a hole
through you. Now, one."
Graham was silent.
Jim was working at the safe. The
third cauie in and grinned at the pic
ture Graham made,
"Pretty boy," he said.
"Three."
Graham opened his mouth to speak.
"Ain't 110 use sayin' anything unless
It's the combination."
"Aw, kill him. We can blow open
the safe."
Graham knew that these men meant
business. They would as soon take a
life as eat. Ho could see his revolver
lying where Jim had placed it.
If only he could divert the leader's
attention while he grabbed his own re
volver he would take a chance. Gra
ham was no coward. He fixed bis eyes
on the door, nodding to some Imag
inary person behind the leader. Tho
bandit laughed.
"See that, Bill? He don't know how
old that trick Is. Young feller, that
trick was old before you were born.
Give us another."
"It is no trick!" shouted Graham. "I
am not afraid of you, but don't let that
bear in here."
He looked frightened. The one call
ed Bill looked. Graham had moved a
few steps forward.
"Are you goin' to open that safe?"
"I tell you to shoot him," said bill.
"He's tried to fool us twice. No bear
outside."
Graham could see the desperado
growing blacker. He knew that after
he had opened the safe for them thoy
would shoot him to prevent identifica
tion. It had been done many times be
fore.
He resolved to sell his life fighting
rather than yielding. He suddenly
darted toward his revolver, but the
leader was too quick. He had been
expecting that. The revolver was sim
ply a lure. He fired, and Graham fell
with a bullet in his side.
"Now, hang you, If you wan{ a show
for your life give us tue combination."
Graham was gasping. He was wait
ing for the next shot that would kill
him.
Suddenly there was a sharp crack—
the smashing of glass—another—and
another Thp leader was down, with s>
bullet In his heart, shot through the
back. Jim lay writhing near the
safe. Bill had pitched forward aqd
| was grasping the side for support.
Then an apparition appeared at the
• door.
A bit of a girl stood there, her face
white, a rifle in her hands. She was so
small she looked like a child. Oraliam
saw her.
"You —you, Miss Delaine—at half past
1 ? How—how"—
She calmly gazed at the result of her
lightning work.
"To tell you the truth, I was afraid
and came here to sleep. After you left"
she was examining his wound while
she spoke—"Charley Jones came over on
horseback and said Mr. Jones' brother
was dying. I was out in the orchard,
and they could not find me and thought
probably I was with you. I returned
to the house and could not get in. I
had left my key in the house. I man
aged to get a window open and went
in that way, but I was afraid to go to
sleep. I could sit up without fear, be
cause I always feel safe with my rifle.
But I was dead tiped after the dance
last night, and I wanted to sleep. I
thought I'd risk the talk and come here.
It was nearest. I heard the shot and
knew you were in trouble. I ran and
got here just in time. Can you nin the
sender?"
"I guess so," he said feebly.
"Wire to order that express to stop
here." She even knew the stations.
Graham dragged himself to the table,
got his call and clicked off the mes
sage.
At 2 the express came roaring and
rumbling in.
"What the mischief's the row here?"
bawled a heavy voice, and a powerful
man in a silk hat and black frock coat
stood with mouth agape while a frac
tion of what Would make a fair sized
girl slid, unconscious, to the floor.
"Nan, my girl, here?" said the big
man. "Here, tell Hawkins to come
here." Hawkins was Mr. Delaine's pri
vate secretary and an operator.
"Hawkins, get Burns and stay bere
till relieved by a new man. This man
won't come back. He'll either go to
jail or the head of a division. Get Nan
into the stateroom. Get a doctor.
There must lie one on the train. Get a
woman to take care of Nan. Take this
man—his name Is Graham—into the
coach. Guard that safe as well as I
think Graham has. There is a pack of
money in there. Evans said he feared
a holdup, and I sent the money yester
day with orders for Graham to stay all
night. But what I dou't understand
is what—what Nan—at this time of
night"—
It was not many hours before the
whole story was told.
"Well," said Mr. Delaine, "you have
told a good story, but I know a better
one. I'll tell it when I see the result of
Graham's injuries."
"Yes, I know one as good as yours,
but it won't be time to tell It until
yours Is told. And, papa, won't you
be surprised?"
"Um—not a lot," said the president.
The other two stories were told. Gra
ham is now second vice president,
which was Delaine's story, and Nan Is
liis wife, which was Nan's. Now Miss
Jones goes to see Mrs. Graham and
travels In a private Pullman with the
second vice presidential guardianship
for her safety.
fltyrt lng Willi ui< ti.
There can be little doubt that the ox
was the earliest beast employed for
the plow. A white bull and a white
cow were yoked together to draw the
furrow for making the walls of Itomc.
Greeks and Romans employed oxen In
plowing; asses only for sandy soils.
When the plowman had finished his
day's labor he turned the instrument
upside down, and the oxen went home
dragging its tail and handle over the
surface of the ground, a scene describ
ed by Horace.
The yoking together of ox and ass
was expressly forbidden by the law of
Moses and is made the ground of a lu
dicrous comparison by Plautus. Ulys
ses. when he feigned madness in order
to avoid going on the Trojan expedi
tion, plowed with an ox and a horse
together.
The North Star.
The north star is exactly in line with
the poles of the earth—that is to say,
it is exactly north of the earth—which
Is the reason why its position with ref
erence to us does not change by the
revolution of the earth upon its axis.
Tho reason Its position does not seem
to change by the annual revolution of
the earth around the sun is that it fs
bo many billions of miles away that
the difference in direction from differ
ent points of the earth's orbit is i
pereeptible.
GIFTS TO JOCKEYS.
Qurfr Itfivnrdu and llemlndern That
Come to tlie Rider*.
One of tlie greatest of living Jockeys
has a most remarkable collection of
tributes from admirers, unknown uud
otherwise. It contains, among other
gtrange things, pawn tickets, writs and
f ammonscs contributed by unsuccess
ful backers of his mounts, talismans
of all kinds to bring him luck In his
races, sermons and tracts for his spir
itual welfare, recipes for all kinds of
ailments, from coughs to a tendency
to corpulence, forms for insuring
against accidents, offers of marriage,
accompanied by bundles of photo
graphs of would be wives, welshers'
tickets and a pair of woruout boots
with tlie legend: "All that is left of
them after walking froui York to Lon
don. Backed all your mounts."
A few years ago, after his horse had
lost an important race, a well known
turfman went up to the Jockey and
made him a formal and public pres
entation of a silver snuffbox, saying
that if he would look inside he would
see the kind of horse he ought to ride
in future. The Jockey opened the box
and found In It half a dozen fat snails.
It was the same satirical owner who
on another occasion presented his jock
ey with a sumptuous casket, which on
being opeued disclosed a wooden spoon,
and to a third jockey who had fnllwd
to win an important race he handed
a pair of crutches bought from a beg
gar on the course.
When John Singleton, a clever jock
ey of nearly two centuries ago, first
won a race in Yorkshire the farmer
whoso horse ho had ridden to victory
was so delighted with his achievement
that he made him a present of a ewe,
whose offspring soon mustered a round
dozen, and really started the ex-shep
herd lad on his career as a jockey.
Singleton was very proud of and grate
ful for his singular fee.
In this respect he furnished a great
contrast to a well known Jockey who
wheu a check for $1,500 was hapded tq
him by the owner of a horse on which
he had won a race crumpled it up con
temptuously, with the remark tliat he
had "often received more for riding a
" —<'■!•!—•«»« Vouio
Didn't Siml To,
"It's too bad," snid tho Judge caustic
ally, "that the defendant should havo
chosen you for counsel. You know j
nothing about law."
"Well, your honor," replied the young !
lawyer, "I don't need to In this court.* I
_Ptii)flrlAlnhlfl Ptau 1
SHE CHANGED
HER MIND
By JELANNE O. LOLZEAUX
j j C«p vri'jUt. 130!, fijy Ruby Douglas
L =- r ~~ ,jg
Marion ro<le at an angry gallop. Tlie
Uust was thick and the heat intense
cvfu for July—no weatiier for riding.
Hie girl wore a neat blue gown, and a
wide straw hat shaded her golden hair
and clouded blue eyes. As she passed
the hayfield, midway between her fa
ther's farm and Jim Bradley's, Jim
himself stepped to the road and motion
ed her to stop. She reigned the rough
bay colt up with difficulty ami pushed
her lover's hand away when he laid it
o:i her arm. She gave him no chance
to spenU.
"Now, don't say anything. I shall
ride whatever horse I please. See how
quiet he Is, anyway. Well, suppose I
am killed? Then you will be free to
marry Agnes, since you seem to like
her so well. You can ride with her
every day. You are free now, for that
matter!"
She knew It was an unjust remark,
but jealousy had the upper hand.
Jim liradley was every inch a man,
tall and good looking. His dark eyes
flashed, and his jaw set. He had seen
Marion in a temper before. He tried
to explain.
"But, dearest, she only overtook me
on my way to town. It was not
planned by either of us, and I have al
ways known her, as I have you. Would
you have me tell her you did not allow
me to ride a mile with a neighbor?
Where's the harm? You know whom I
love, dear."
"She's always after you. She's In
love with you. She"—
"No, she is not, but if she were ought
you to be angry with me? And even
then should you blame her? You love
me yourself, don't you? Com A dear, be
reasonable. Let me lead the brute
home, and, if you must ride and get a
sunstroke, get it on a safe horse." Ills
masterful air of possession irritated
her as much as it ordinarily pleased
her.
"I dou't love you. I hate you! Come
on, Prince." She gave the reins a little
slap, and the colt danced and snorted
wildly. Jim caught him l>y the bridle.
He spoke with repressed anger.
"Well, love me or not, you shall get
down! You shan't break your, neck
just to break my heart. You know
plenty of other ways of doing that
Prince has not been saddled half a
dozen times, and I know your father
docs not allow you to ride him, though
you are an old hand at horses. And
you know perfectly well that Agnes is
nothing but a friend. She cares noth
ing for me. She's a nice girl"—
"That's it—stand up for "her, Jim
Bradley! She told Sue Field that she
would take you from me, and she's
done it. Not that I care—much. Let
Prince go, I say!"
"I will not. I shall take you down
and have your father forbid you to
mount him. to mako
trouble. Agues never said or thought
a thing like that."
Marion sat quietly a moment, as if to
obey his command to dismount. Her
eyes were wide, her cheeks glowing.
He dropped the bridle and came to
reach his arms up for her. Then sud
denly the demon of prido seized her
agaiu. She gave Prince a cut that sent
him out of Jim's reach with one bound.
"Goodb.v," she called. "You are free.
I wouldn't marry you if you—l would
have to be dead and come to life again
before I would say I love you!"
The horse was off at an unruly gal
lop. Jim was angry, but his heart
stood still as he watched the little blue
figure riding away so lightly. Untrust
worthy as he knew the colt to be, she
seemed to have him under fine control.
She could tame anything but her own
temper; it was a way she had. Per
haps her own unruly spirit made the
conquest of others easy. Of all her
suitors-and she was much sought—
only Jim had ever held his own and
refused to bow utterly under the yoke
of her will. That was why she loved
him and quarreled with him—and had
always come back to him. He was the
stronger, and, while at times she re
sented his power over her, she also
gloried in it. This was the worst she
had ever done —defied him, broken her
promise to marry him, risked her life
to wring his heart.
He watched horse and girl fly from
him over the level road. Then he
shouldered his hayfork, walked swift
ly to her father's place, entered the de
serted barnyard—the men were all in
the fields—closed the open barn door
and waited with set jaw.
Meantime Marion and the colt were
having a grand ride past grain lands
and groves and farmhouses, flying past
meadow and hayfleld. The brisk mo
tion, the wind lu her face, cooled the
girl's anger a little and made her
ashamed. She thought with a pang
that she had gone too far this time
that she could never make It up with
Jim now she had been a fool.
Then she remembered coming back
from shopping with Sue and meeting
him riding gayly to town with Agnes
Sutherland, with whom she had warred
from the A BCs up. Jim had always
had a fondness for her. Her wrath
rose agaiu, and she twitched the bridle.
Prince was tired and beginning to be
a bit sulky and nervous. With horse
womanly instinct she humored without
yielding to him, let him drink at a
roadside trough and turned his head
for home.
As they reached Field's farm she no
ticed preparations for thrashing going
on. The great red thrasher stood wait
ing for the engine, and men and horses
were standing all about the conical yel
low stacks. Sue came from the house
and called to her to stop, which she did*
to the colt's disgust. Sue leaned on the
fence, and the two girls chatted a mo
ment.
"You better get off till the engine
comes, Marlon. You might meet It.
You've no business on that crazy colt.
It isn't safe. I don't see how Jim al
lows it!" Marten's face flamed.
"What has he to say? I am not en
gaged to him any more. I"
Sue gasped, then, with remorse—too
late, as usual—remembered what she
had told her friend on the way from
town that day.
"Marlon, yuu weren't ever fool enough
not to know I wits joking? What Ag
nes really said was that Jim was so
silly about you he didn't hear what
she said half the time. Oh. May, I'm
so sorry!"
But Marion did not wait. She rode
away.
Prince settled into an ugly, obstinate
gallop, swerving and jolting.
They were nearing the crossing when
an unearthly shriek made Marion look
up to see the thrasher engine approach
ing. She urged Prince on, trying to
reach the corner where the road turned
toward home before the m&ghiae came
J closer, licr Lunula trembled, but she
| remembered tbat it is fatal to lose
nerve witb an unruly horse.
Prince snorted, laid back bis ears,
but went on well enough. They were
almost at the corner when the fiendish
shriek came again.
The colt took the bit in his teeth und
bolted in utter terror. Marion knew
her danger and kept her head as they
. turned tl.e corner. She let ber bat go,
i and the wind whipped he# long hair
; back like a yellow banner. She spoke
I to the colt soothingly, patted his neck.
1 tried to got the bit from his teeth— all
| lu vain. They were still a mile from
home and going so fast that the mo
tion was as easy as the rocking of a
cradle. If they met no teams and he
kept to the road all might yet be well,
but be might throw her. lie swerved
at the bridge and nearly dragged her
against the railing.
She felt cold perspiration on her face.
It seemed like the end of things. She
; thought of Jim—all he had been, all he
; was to her, what she bad said to him—
and now she— might—never be able to
say she was sorry, that she loved him—
get him to forgive her. She recalled a
baby prayer, a little brother long dead,
thought of her mother's face when they
would take ber home. As they neared
the house she remembered that she had
uot weeded the pausy bed. Everything
wavered strangely in her mind.
As they passed the windows she saw
her little sister's baby face.
As the colt tore around the corner to
the gate aud Into the yard she grew
cold with horror. She had left the barn
door open. lie would make for his stall
and crush her. It went suddenly dark
before ber, and her head swam. Jim—
she wanted to call his name, but could
not. He would have saved her, she
thought.
Against the closed door stood a brim
ming pail of cold water. As Prince
stopped with a jerk that threw Marion
from her seat Jim Bradley came quiet
ly up. She was hanging by all ber
skirts, that had caught on the pommel.
Only a quick hand and a steady one
could have disengaged her as he did.
He drew ber into the shade and held
her close.
She opened her eyes and looked up
into his white face. It was like heav
en to her.
"Jim:" she said. "Jim"'
"Are yon hurt—arc you hurt? Mar
lon, are you all right?" She drew a
long breath, stood up and walked a
step to show him she was uninjured.
Then she went close to him and put
her hands on his shoulders. Her face
was very serious.
"Jim," she said, "I have changed my
mind." He saw a queer little light in
her eyes and was wary.
"About what—Prince?" ~
"About you. Couldn't you—ask me
if I—love you? I think that I wouldn't
have to lie to say—yes." Jim tried to
get hold of her, but she held off.
"I want to tell you what I think of
myself. Don't you speak. I am a hor
rid little—beast. Yes, I did say 'beast.'
Will you—take me back?" Jim thought
he would.
Thackeray's Disfigured None.
That George Venables, Thackeray's
schoolmate, was not entirely responsi
ble rot-TneUdveTTsTs disfigured nose Is
to be gathered from the autobiography
of Sir Wemyss Reid. On one occasion,
when both Venables and Reid were
visiting Lord Houghton, Reid bluntly
asked his fellow guest who broke
Thackeray's nose.
"It was winter, and we were walking
In Indian file through the woods. As I
put this quest Ipn to Venables he sud
denly stopped and, turning around,
glared at me in a manner that instantly
revealed the terrible truth to my alarm
ed Intelligence. He continued to glare
for several seconds, and then, apparent
ly perceiving nothing but innocent con
fusion, not unmixed with alarm, on my
face, his features became relaxed Into
a more amiable expression. 'Did any
body tell you,' he said slowly and with
solemn emphasis, 'to ask me that ques
tion?' I could truthfully say that no
body had done so. My answer seemed
to mollify Venables at once. 'Then, If
nobody put you up to asking that ques
tion, I don't mind answering it. It was
I who broke Thackeray's nose. We
were only little boys at the time aud
quarreled over something and had the
usual fight. It wasn't my fault that he
was disfigured for life. It was all the
fault of some wretched doctor. Nowa
days a boy's nose can bo mended so
that nobody can see that It has ever
been broken. Let me tell you,' he con
tinued. 'that Thackeray never showed
me any ill will for the harm I had done
him, and I do not believe he felt any.' "
DARING WILD BRUTES,
Tl«e Panthers of India and How They
Secure Tlielr Prey.
In certain parts of India the panther
is named "bipat," which meaus calam
ity, for he Is au ever present scourge
ainoug the people. His proper name is
tendwa. It is the habit of these pan
thers for a family of them to quarter
themselves on a circle of villages with
in convenient distance of their nightly
prowllngs. As soon as the sun is below
the horizon they sally forth from the
cover of the surrounding forests and
watch the paths by which the village
herds and llocks return to their resting
places. If a meal cannot be secured
then, later ou they enter a village and
patrol the dark lanes in the boldest
manner. Nothing comes amiss to them
that is not too large and heavy for
their strength.
Children, dogs, goats and the young
cattle arc their favorite quarry. They
are bold enough to dash into a hut even
with a light burning in It, seize their
prey, then rush away with lightning
speed and, with a noiselessncss that
Is marvelous, retreat with their prize
to the nearest cover and there devour
It. In the morning the poor villager,
following the tracks of the retreating
animal, soon arrives at the few re
mains of his goat or calf or maybe his
child.
In the following way the natives get
their revenge: A stray dog Is caught lu
the village and is tied out on the path
generally frequented by the panther
family. The bait Is carried off during
the night and devoured close by. Next
day a machan (platform) is fixed in a
convenient tree, and lu the evening a
kid Is tied on the spot occupied by the
dog on the previous night. The sports
man settles himself in the machan be
fore sunset nnd begins his watch.
Terrified by his louely position, the
kid begins a frantic bleating, which
soon attracts the panther marauders,
which are skulking about near the spot
where they found their last meal. A
short Htalk soou brings them to the kid
and directly under the concealed
sportsman, who shoots Uio beasts. It
is impossible to follow the panthers
into the Impenetrable cover they fre
quent, and they never show themselves
lu daylight— Chicago News.
UlfU>h aa She la Written.
The publication which was once
brought out iu Portugal bearing the
title 'English as She Is Spoke" has for
No. C.
a long time enjoyed a worldwide repu
tation. Tourists on the continent of
■Europe sometimes come across exam
ples of English quite as curious as tbat
of the Portuguese author.
In the bedroom of a hotel at Genoa
the following notice was found: "The
lamentations of the waiters are obliged
to l>e made at the bureau." It was in a
hotel also, and not a church, that the
following request was made in writ
ing: "Visitors ar<> prayed into dinner
when the bell rings, that they may not
disturb the order of the service." There
is a hotel advertisement ih Calais sta
tion to the following effect: "Quit® a
peculiar unlmatlon resides at this fash
ionable spot of Paris. In the rear the
grand opera of a splendid architecture
ou one side of the Grand hotel, entirely
made afresh and in a more extensive
way, is the meeting of all strangers of
distinction." Finally, this curious leg
end has recently been seen on a notice
board on a garden wall In Jersey, one
of the Channel islands: "Any dog found
in this garden the proprietors of the
dog paid one pound sterling for each
timaa "
A THIMBLE OF GOLD
IT IS MADE OF METAL ALLOYED DOWN
TO FOURTEEN CARATS.
The Process of Manufacture, From
the Ingot a of Pure Uold Fresh From
the Suhtreasury to the Fialahed
Shining Product.
Out of whatever part of the earth It
may originally have been dug, the gold
from which thimbles are made in Phil
adelphia was bought at the United
States subtreasury in the city in the
form of snug little Ingots, brick shaped
and about two and a half inches long,
an inch and a quarter wide and about
an inch thick.
These little ingots would be of a con
venient size for paperweights. But
they would be rather heavy for such
use and probably too expensive for
most people, for each one contains, of
pure gold, 24 carats fine, metal of the
value of about SOOO.
Gold of this fineness would be much
too soft for thimbles, and it is alloyed
down to 14 carats, In which condi
tion it is rolled into sheets of suitable
thickness. In the first process of man
ufacture a sheet of this gold is run
into a machine which cuts out of it a
disk in size sufficient to form a thim
ble, the same machine stamping this
disk also into the form of a straight
sided capsule with irregular edges.
Then the thimble blank goes Into an
other machine, in which a die Btamps it
into its conical 6bapc. Out of this ma
chine it goes into an annealing fur
nace for tempering and from that into
an acid bath for cleaning and the re
moval of the fire coating.
Then the thimble is put into a lathe
to be turned down to Its final shape
and dimensions. It is dull colored
when it goes into the lathe, but at the
first touch of the keen edged Cutting
tool it shows a glistening narrow band
of bright gold surface, which is widen
ed in a moment to cover the whole
length of the thimble as the skillful
worker shifts the tool along.
With repeated of the tool
the operator Liingc (lie W Ten of
thimble into its perfect form and cuts
down along the thimble's sides to bring
the walls of the thimble to the requi
site thickness, and he defines and fin
ishes the smooth band that runs around
the lower part of the thimble and
brings Into relief the rounded rim that
encircles the thimble at its opening at
once to give it a finishing ornamental
grace there and to stiffen it The glis
tening little gold shavings that he cuts
off in these various operations all fall
Into a canvas trough suspended be
tween him and the bench upon which
stands the lathe.
With that last touch to its rim In this
stage of making the former has grown ,
marvelously more thlmble-llke in ap
pearance, but somehow it still lacks the
breath, so to speak, of thimble life; it
lacks yet the familiar indentations in
its surface that serve to support the
needle and to hold it In place. These
the thimble maker now proceeds to
make, and the making of these Is nice
work indeed.
It is dqpe with a tool called a knurle.
There is an end knurle and a side
knurle. An end knurle Is simply a han
dle having set in it a tiny, thin revolv
ing wheel of steel, upon whose periph
ery Is a continuous encircling row of
little bosses or knobs corresponding In
size to the Indentations to be made.
The side knurle has in place of such a
wheel a little steel cylinder of a length
sufficient to cover that section of the
thimble that is to be Indented on its
sides, this cylinder having knobs all
over Its surface, as the end knurle
wheel has around its edges, and turn
ing, like the wheel, on Its axis.
The thimble in the lathe Is turning
with 2,500 revolutions a minute, and it
seems as though the application to its
surface of any sort of tool with pro
tuberances on it must leave there only
a Jangled and mixed up lot of irregular
marks. But now with the end knurle
the thimble maker makes an indenta
tion In the center of the top of the thim
ble, and then he proceeds rapidly and
with perfect certainty with the end
knurlo to describe around that center
concentric rings of indentations, with
the Indentations all perfectly made and
the rings all perfectly spaced, from the
center to the circumference of the top.
You may see him do this, but you
can't tell how he is able to do it And
then with the side knurle he-makes the
indentations in the 6ldes of the thim
ble, making there as well, as he deftly
presses the tool against it, indentations
that run absolutely uniform and true
and that end at their lower edge in a
perfectly true encircling line.
It is astonishing and a pleasant thing
to see how it develops and comes to
Itself with the making of these fa
miliar indentations, and now there re
mains to be done to it only the polish
ing inside and out and you have the
finished gold thimble.—Philadelphia
Press.
llow Exclamations Originate.
"Halloo" and "hurrah," which are
among the exclamations in common
use, can bo traced to curious origins.
The author of "The Queen's English"
tells us that the people of Camwood
forest, Leicestershire, when they wish
to hail any one at a distance call out
not "halloo," but "halloup." This, he
takes it, is a survival of the times
when one cried to another "A loup! A
loup!" or, as we should say, "A wolfl
A wolf!" "Hurrah," according to high
suthorlty. Is derived from the Slavonic
"huraj," "to paradise," a battle cry
which voiced the prevailing belief that
all soldiers who fell In the fight went
straight up to paradise. Pearson's
Weekly.
Her Contribution.
Visiting Philanthropist—Good morn
ing, madam. I am collecting for the
Drunkards' home. Mrs. McGuire—
Gbure I'm glad of It sor. If ye come
around tonight yez can take my hus
band.— Harper's Weekly.
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