oi IT II K A Defeated Conqueror >1 II ii—=o People said I was the luckiest fel low living, and I quite Indorsed their opinion, for I had not only entered Into possession of a decent little leg acy left me by my uncle, but I had also won the hand and heart of Ada Miller, the prettiest and most charm ing young lady In the whole county. People said her father was Im mensely rich and that she would come In for a handsome fortune at hla death, but what cared I about that? For had I not sufficient for us both, even if she were penniless. And did I not love her with the whole strength of a pure and disinterested love? I cannot begin to describe her to you, for the task is quite beyond me. Suffice it to say she was admired by all who knew her, and loved by not a few. The latter circumstances ceased to disturb me when once I became her accepted lover, though before that time It occasioned me a great deal of anxiety, and caused me to spend many a restless night. Of one lover in particular had I been Jealous, for to my excited and fear-laden imagination he seemed to possess everything that a young lady could desire. He was tall, broad shouldered, handsome, with a pleasing manner and faultless dress, and in ad dition to all this, he was endowed with more than an average share of this worfd's goods. He was madly in love with Ada, but conducted his wooing In a way with which not even his closest rival could find fault. Kind, considerate Rnd gentlemanly, never obtruding his presence unnecessarily, he yet man aged to pay her considerable atten tion, and many an anlxous time did I spend, fearing that his superior at tractions would put me in the shade. Fate, however, decided otherwise, for when I summoned up courage to put my fortune to the test, Ada shyly accepted me, informing me in a most engaging manner that she had never loved anyone else. You may be sure that I was in ecstasies, and scarcely knew for the next few months wheth er I walked upon air or upon solid ground. Our engagement was to last a year, at the end of that time our marriage was to take place. The time had al most elapsed, and nothing had occur red to mar the harmony of the scene, when, quite unexpectedly, something happened which filled me with the deepest horror, and which causes me to shudder even now as I recall it. It has partly to do with my rival, Hor ace Rishton, Whose existence for the time I had almost forgotten. He had received the news of our engagement In an apparently calm and quiet manner, and Ills subsequent behavior had not led us to regard him as being more than ordinarily affect ed by it, but in the event I am about to describe, I was enabled to see how deep and tragic the effect upon him really was. The revelation came In this wise: It was but two days to our wed ding, and I had occasion togo on a little business connected with it to a neighboring town, a place some four miles distant from my home. Having accomplished my errand, and finding that I had some considerable time to wait for a train, I resolved to walk back, so striking out, I soon left the town behind me. I had gone somewhere about two miles when the moon suddenly cloud ed over, and 1 was left In comparative darkness. As I knew the way, how ever, I thought nothing of It, but trudged cheerfully along, thinking only of Ada and our approaching union. Suddenly, and without a mo ment's warning, the ground gave way from under my feet and I felt myself falling headlong down, down Into the depths of the earth. How far I fell I knew not at the time —I learned after ward that it was about thirty feet — but I expected Instant death when I reached the bottom, and without doubt that would have been my fate had not the bottom of the hole been filled with water to a considerable depth. This broke my fall, and also by Its coldness restored me to my senses. I struck out on coming to the sur face, and swam around to find some thing to which I could hold on. After a considerable time spent* in search ing, during which the full horror of the situation began to dawn upon me, I knew at once the place into which I had fallen, and as the knowledge flashed across my mind I cursed my self for having been so careless as to stumble into It. It was an old, dis used shaft which had been there for generations. Not many people were aware of its existence, for It was In a wild and solitary spot scarcely ever visited by anyone. I, however, had seen it several times In my moorland wanderings, and had always regarded it as a dangerous place. It was par tially fenced around, but I must haye wandered In through one of the gaps. There was no footpath anywhere near It, so I must. In the darkness, have lost my way. However, here I was, and the ques tion confronted me how was I to get out? I tried to discover If It was pos sible to climb out, but the Bides of the pit offered no hold of any kind, so I had to abandon that Idea. I next shouted, In the hope that some solitary wanderer might hear my cries, but no answering voice was heard, until, after I was obliged to ■lnk back In silence and despair. My heart sickened as I thought ,6f the lonellnen of sti4 place, and how days, and even weeks might elapse before anyone passed that way. 1 struck out frantically round the pit to seek again for some means of escape, but my search was as fruit less as before. Despair took hold of me. I thought of Ada, of our approaching marriage, of the preparations which had been made, and the plans which had been formed. And now It was all over. I must think no more of entering again the bright region above and sharing In the joys that awalited me there. I was doomed to die —to die a lonely, hor rible death, and to lie in a watery , grave. As I held onto my feeble sup port, and thought of all this, my brain reeled within me, and I feared that my reason must give way. Death instead of marriage! What a contrast! Just when I ought to be leading my bride to the altar and stepping across the portal of married life, to let go my hold here and fall Into the cold, relentless arms of death! And what of Ada then? Sure ly she would sorrow and grieve and be disconsolate. But Horace Rishton! What of him? Might they not become man and — But, no, the thought was tor turing, and drove me in a fit of frenzy to shout again with all my might. But it was all in vain, for no one heard. How the night passed I cannot tell, neither do I know how the morning hours dragged on, for I was numb with cold and faint with hunger and fatigue. I only know that ofter what seemed to me to be ages, footsteps drew near, and a voice called out from above: "Are you there, Fred?" My heart leaped Into my mouth, and for a moment I was unable to ut ter a sound. At last I murmured, in a faint voice: "In Heaven's name, get me out! I'm dying." "Can you hold on another min ute?" the voice asked. "I've got a rope here. Keep up till I fasten It to this stake. Can you slip a loop round your body, or shall I come down to you?" "Send the rope down. I'll manage to pass it round," I shouted eagerly. In another minute it was dang\ing before my eyes, and was soon passed under my arms; after which I gave the word to draw up. Slowly I as cended, and at last emerged into the light and freedom of the upper air. It was Horace Rishton who had saved me, and If ever my heart went out to my rival it was then. "I cannot sufficiently thank you," I began. "Give me no thanks," he interrupt ed harshly "Thank Heaven instead. Heaven and hades have been fighting over you, and heaven has won. But you little know how near you have been to death." I looked up in wonderment at him, for his words were unintelligible to me. He took no notice of my look, but continued: "I guessed where you were, call it Instinct or whatever you like. No one else did. They will seek every where but here. But I seemed to know, and—well the Devil tempted me, nay, he fought with me. Don't you know why? You love Ada Mil ler, do you not? Then so do I. Yes, with a love which gives me no rest night or day, a love which makes it Impossible for me to live without her. You have won her hand, but don't you think I envy you? Don't you think 1 even hate you at times? And when I guessed you were here, don't you see the Devil tempted me to leave you here and to say nothing whatever about it? But Ada has chosen you, she loves you. Your wedding day draws near. Go —take her and be happy. But for me happiness in this life is over." He turned away to unloosen the rope which he had made fast to one of the stakes of the fence. I watched him wonderingly with a dazed mind, when all in a moment, before I could think or speak, he reeled, fell over, and toppled head long into the pit from whence he had drawn me, carrying the rope with him. "He's gone!" I shrieked, and springing to my feet —for the numb ness left me for a moment—l rushed to the mouth of the shaft crying fran tically, "Horace! Horace!" But no answer came to my cries. A loud splash succeeded his fall, then all was still and silent, as the grave. I looked around for help, but no help was near, and overcome with weak ness, fatigue and horror, I fell sense less to the ground. When I came to I found myself In the same position, and knowing that it was extremely improbable that any one would pass that way, I put forth all my strength, and dragged mycelf with great diflculty in the direction of home. When I had gone a mile or so I entered upon a more frequenter* road, and soon fell In with those who rendered me all the assistance I re quired. My story caused a great sensation, as you may bo sure, and for a time was the one "object of interest in the place. Ada looked upon me as one given back from the dead, and re joiced over me accordingly. Her Joy would have been complete had it not been for the unfortunate death of Horace Rishton, for that naturally cast a gloom over us all. Of course, his death was put down to accident, and much regret express ed at the painful occurrence, but I, who had seen the whole thing, knew It was no accident, though, rightly or wrongly, I kept the knowledge to my self. Every year we pay a visit to his grave, and as we gaze upon the silent tomb, we think with gratitude, and yet with regret, of a rival's lov#.— Household Words. THE MERE NAN'S VIEWPOINT THE MESSAGE WITHHELD j By BYRON WILLIAMS ONCE upon n time there cnme into the garden of Agapemone two lovers. Her form was as lithe and as graceful as the weeping willow, her eyes like the brown depths of au autumn tinted pooh her lips as red as the suu kissed side of a Twig apple and her voice as silvery sweet as the tinkle of a water fall caressing the stones at the ford. lie was stalwart, clear of eye, strong of limb, his hair like spun silk, his teeth white and regular. In his fac& there glowed the enthusiasm of love and youth, the determination to do cr die. And they loved each othfcr. Men and women like this have lovetl since from the cosmos creation sprang into being. Men and women like this have stood before Hymen and have taken the vows that have made them one in purpose, one in union, one in affection. And these two, like theit progenitors, stood at the altar and plighted their troth. Days came and went, the honeymoor, was passed and the realities of life set THE MESBAOE WITHHELD. tied upon them. Gladly they took up the duties, the Joys and the hopes 01 married life, and for a time they were very happy. But after awhile the man, picking up bright pebbles on the shore of the lake of paradise, became in tensely interested in his hunt. From early morning until late at night the mail scoured the shelving sands for cornelians and brilliants and diamonds and rubies. As time sped his pastime became a passion and not only his waking hours but his dreams were Ail ed with this mad desire to hoard pretty stones. His wife, sorrowfiN, noted his pred ilection for garnering heaps of treas ure. I)ay by day she saw his heart go out from her to the things he sought. At times she almost cried out in the agony of her yearning for a single word from him—a little word of sym pathy and love. This went on month after monfh, year after year, until the strain upon the woman had stolen the freshness from her cheeks and tlie luster from her eye, until she was n mere echo of the beautiful creature lie had won in Agapeuione. To tlie woman's horror the man seemed sometimes to realize that her beauty had fled, but still he did not seem to understand that her very soul cried out for a single word of love, a little embrace of affection. One day the man came home from his hunt, his pockets bulging with the pebbles of the lake shore, his mind full of avarice, to find the woman stricken with a disease that left her speechless. Her limbs were paralyzed, her face as white as the linen of the bed onto which she had fallen. Aa though awakened from a great stupor the man attempted to restore her, but his efforts, though half fran tic, were futile, and from her lips could come no sound to direct or as sure him that what he did helped to alleviate her suffering. Only her eyes spoke to him, appeal ing with a strange language he could not fathom. His heart was wrung by the appeal in the orbs that once were as beautiful as the depths of the foun tain, an nppeal he could not sense. And with this look of huuger, with this steadfast gaze upon him, she died. The man hardly realized Ills loss at first. Out under a beautiful scarlet maple he dug a grave and heaped a mound above the mortal remnant of the once beautiful and graceful wo man who had been so much to him Ip the golden honeymoon days. And then the great lonely, loveless life swooped down upon him. making him helpless, nerveless, broken. Every thing he touched reminded him of her Everywhere he went he saw some thing to speak to his heart of her lov Ing care and solicitude. At last in utter woe he threw tiimself upon the cold soil of the mound and cried out: "Oh, Mary, Mary, how I miss you! How I loved you!" Daybreak found him by her grave repeating his love, and in the moon light he sat beside her grave and re peated his assurances of undying af fection, but from the grave came no answer. The pile of pebbles mocked him; the waves and the wind and the sunbeams scoffed at him. Broken and epent, he wasted away until a merci ful Qod took him home. In the light of heavenly understand Ing let us hope that the man learned his lesson and that in the union above ber heart no longer hungered unto death for a little word of lore. Indict Railroads and Officials. [ The United States grand jury in j Cleveland, Ohio, has returned indict- j ments against the Lake Shore & Mich igan Southern Railroad company, ; charging it with consipracy to violate the Elkins act. Indictments also were returned against the Pennsylvania, the Lake Shore & Michigan Southern, the Bes semer & Lake Erie and the New York, Chicago & St. Louis railroads, charg ing them with rebating. The indictments will be followed immediately by suits, the United Svates district attorney, W. L. Day, who, with John 11. Marble, attorney of the interstate commerce commisß'on, and C. R. Marshall, attorney of the department of justice, lias been con ducting tho case, said. The fines in the case of conviction may aggregate millions of dollars. Indictments affecting several high railroad officials were also returned, but names aud the nature of the in dictments were withheld pending ar rests. In each case the indictments were for conspiracy to violate the Elkins act and for rebatine on the transpor tation of iron ore. Mr. Day stated that the federal grand jury's report would form the basis for "large and import ant suits." Bloomer Woman Is Dead. Miss Susan P. Fowler, the bloomer woman, diedat her home in Vineland, N. J. She was eighty-seven years old and she donned the bloomer costume sixty-nine years ago, when it bid fair to become popular under the advocacy of such women as Susan B. Anthony, Elizabeth Cady Stanton and others in the Oneida community of New York, although she never accepted any of the doctrines of that community. Marriage and motherhood as known today she contended are a farce, and all because the young men art not taught the basic laws of life. For over forty years she conducted a farm on the outskirts of Vineland and never would have a man around. Miss Fowler was highly educated and was the author of several books. Widow and Seven Children Burn. Mrs. J. H. Nunn and seven children, ranging in age from adults to an in fant, were burned to death in a fire which destroyed their home in South west Roanoke, Va. Three G'her children escaped by leaping from Mrs. Nunn was a widow, her husbaiid having died a year ago. The dead: Mrs. J. H. Nunn, Georgia Nunn, aged twenty-two years; Staf ford, aged thirteen; Dillard, eleven; Lucille, aged six; Helen, aged five; another child, under five, name not iearped, and an infant. Very little property damage resulted from the blaze, which was extinguish ed soon after the arrival of the fire department. Gibbons to Head Naval Academy. Captain John H. Gibbons, who is now on duty in Washington as a mem ber of the general board of the navy, will be detailed by Secretary Meyer as superintendent of the naval acad emy at Annapolis on May 15, succeed ing Captain John M. Bowyer, who will be relieved because of ill health. Cap tain Bowyer has written a letter to Secretary Meyer saying that he wishes to be relieved on that date. Secretary Meyer denied that the re lief of Captain Bowyer was an out come of the recent affront to Miss Mary H. Beers, daughter of Professor H. A. Beers, of Yale uneversity, for which Captain Bowyer apologized to Miss Beers and her father. Find Missing Man's Bones. Four years ago on April 8 George Michael Fetzer mysteriously disap peared from his home in Boggs town ship, near Bellefonte, Pa., and all ef forts to locate him proved futile. Monday the whitened bones of his body were found by some boys behind a clump of bushes not a half mile from his home. His discharged gun by his side and a bullet hole through the skull told the manner of his death, but whether accidental or suicide will probably never be known. Dr. Hyde Released on Bail. Dr. B. C. Hyde, under a life sen tence of imprisonment for the murder of Colonel Thomas H. Swope, was re leased from the county jail on a writ of babeaa corpus granted by the seven judges of the circuit court in Kansas City, Mo. In the opinion of the court en banc the majority of the evidence on which the physician was convicted was cir cumstantial and there was a reason able doubt of the prisoner's guilt. Plow Unearths Body. For the second time within two weeks Coverdale Reynolds, a farmer, living between Seaford and Bridge ville, Del., has plowed up in his field a human body. This time it was the body of a small child, securely nailed in a cof fin, and quite a distance from the first one plowed up. The authorities will make an investigation. Had to Pay Duty on Drowned Boy. Roberto and Thomas Rodrigas, two boys, were drowned In the Rio Grande river at Laredo, Tex., and their bodies swept away. The bodies were recov ered, that of Roberto on the Mexican side of the river. To bring the corpse out of Mexico an export duty of |l2O Mexican money was exacted. Man, 119 Pounds, Takes Bride of 639. Difference in weight, like differences in social positions, can be overcome by that great equalizer—love. Miss Gertrude May Davis, weight 639 pounds, was married In Wayne, W. Va , to M. C. McGorr?, who weighs 119 pounds. Begging the Prioe. I The man whose doctor had advised lilni to walk downtown in the morning looked scornfully at the panhandler who had held kirn up. "You say you want money for your starving wife and children," lie repeat ed. "Well, I don't believe you have any." "Well, wot of It?" asked the beggar brazenly. "Wot if I am lyln'?" The pedestrian gasped, but held to his purpose. "I think you want this money only to buy liquor,"' he said. "Wot if I do?" "In that case j'ou show yourself to be a liar, a vagabond and a druukard—a man who is scarcely worth saving. But listen. Do you know that the liquor evil is, to a certain extent, its own corrective?" "Wotcha drivin' at?" "Just this. Scientists tell us that liquor is killing off the weak and in ferior class. In that way you may be said to be doing some good. Do you"— The beggar held out bi3 hand. "Stop right dere, mister," he •'aid, "and help de good work along before you t'ink o' somepin' else." —Boston Traveler. Indict Woman In Poisoned Candy Cart: The federal grand jury in Harri:;- burg, Pa., has returned a true bill in the case of Helen Barnhart, of Shiremanstown, charged with sending candy, sprinkled with strychnine, through the mails to Buelah Mountz, of Mechanicsburg. A family quarrel i:> said to have been the cause of the al leged action. The case will be trie.l :lurin.j the preuont term of "curt Wants 510,000 For Initiation Injury. A suit lor sio,ooo damages was filed in Newark, N. .!., by John A. Het zel. of Blnomfield, N. J„ against the Bloomfleld Camp. Modern Woodmen > of America. Hetzel alleges that while he was being initiated into the order • he was struck, while in a stooping po sition, with a "slap-stlcli" containing a I cartridge. The cartridge exploded and entered his body near the spine. GENERAL MARKETS PHILADELPHIA FLOUK weak; s winter clear, $3.25@3.50; city mills, . fancy, $5.25® 5.73. RYE FLOUR steady, at $4.15@4.25 per barrel. ' WHEAT steady; No. 2 red, new, 91 ) @92c. CORN quiet; No. 2 yellow, Gu l ,&@ 01c. OATS steady; NQ. 2 white, 38V-!® i 39c.; lower grades, POULTRY; Live steady: hens, 14% (g>lse.; old roosters, 10@llc. Dressed firm; choice fowls, 15c.; old roost ers, lie. t BUTTER steady; extra creamery, 23% c. per lb. -v EGGS steady; selected, 20 @ ?2c.; ' aearby, 18c.; western, 18c. POTATOES firm; 65®>70c. bushel. ) Live Stock Markets. PITTSBURG (Union Stock Yards) CATTLE sflow; choice, s6® 6.15; prime, $6.25®7. i SHEEP firm; prime wethers, $3.80 . <£ 4; culls and common, $2(7®2.50; spring lambs, soi£ilo; veal calves, $6 ■ ® 6.25. r HOGS lower; prime heavies, $5 95ffi> . 6J15; mediums, $6.25®'6.30; heavy Yorkers, s(>.3o® 0.35; light Yorkers, j |6.35@6.40; pigs, $6.35© %40; roughs, ' J5@5.25. | Has Liquor Got The Best i § of You? { • You know that drinking nnlils a man for business. Kin- J z ploy era recognize this and do not want a drinking man 2 2 around. No man will knowingly employ a victim of the $ 2 liquor habit in a responsible position. AVe can remove the Z m terrible craving for liquor, and positively cure you, Reliable a • references, furnished if desired. J • Address in strict confidence. ♦ | THE SWAIN E REMEDY CO., j J 17 West Fourth Street, Williamsport, Pa. 2 ll Dependable fg 8 Goods. H ■ { v WK handle goods that are cheap, but not cheap goods. We want our goods to become jSpf i your goods and our store your store. II it is §jjj§|j || Clothing, or H W,.HS«..W M Shoes or jg g Anything gg to furnish man, woman'or child up in classy, jjj&gS attractive and dapendable attire, then we have jSjp* just the articles you need. Give us a call now. MAX MAMOLEN, LAPORTE. || Work of the Locomotive Fireman. Ton husky young man shoveling twenty tons of coal a duy may not Bound like a terrible undertaking, but that is because he falls to appreciate the difference between shoveling that quantity in the course of a ten hour day, standing on a steady footing and pausing for a moment whenever ho feels like it to gaze at the scenery or light a cigarette and trying to keep his balance on a jolting, jerking, plung ing steel deck which tries ceaselessly to pitch him head first into the side of the cab, while with legs spread wide apart he humps over a scoop shovel, working with frantic energy to get coal into the firebox fast enough to keep steam up. While the engine is running the fireman must be straddled out on the deck, working continually to the limit of his strength, tor ordi narily he will have to get from two and a half to three tons of coal into the firebox every hour. Three and a half tons is generally regarded as the limit of a fireman's capacity, but this has been greatly exceeded on the fastest trains.—Technical World Magazine. The Music of Birds. Birds are usually accounted the most musical of animals, yet it is very much of a task to set their notes to music. The reason is that birds are utterly negligent of the laws of har mony. There is not one of them, it is safe to say, that knows the difference between a major third and a dominant chord. This deficiency in musical knowledge is rather surprising when we consider how beautifully the birds sing and may be used as an argument to show that a theoretical knowledge Is a humbug. But If birds knew more about harmony their songs could all be set down and quite a decent revenue derived from the sale thereof. Anoth er reason why it is difficult to put the melody of the song birds into notes is that the quality of the tone is unlike any musical instrument. This is true of all birds except the thrush, whose song descends for the first three notes in perfect seconds and with much purity of tone.—From Old Scrap Rook. Things Are Changed Now. The Fourth of July, the day of our arrival at Albany, was the anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, and on our arrival we were told that great preparations were making for its celebration. Our landlord, as soon as he found out who we were, immediately came to us to request that wo would excuse the confused state in which his house was, as this was the anniversary day of"American independence," or, as some indeed more properly call it, "American repentance." We were all of not a little surprised at this ad dress, ahd from such a person. In stances, however,~ai<e not wanting of people openly declaring that t.lipy have never enjoyed so much quiet and hap piness in their own homes since the Revolution as they did when the states were the colonies of Great Britain. Among the planters of Virginia I have heard language of this sort more than once.—From "Travels Through the States of North America," by Isaac Weld, Jr., 1795.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers