I PHILANTHROPY ! FEMININE 1 I jS Uy CLAUDE PAM ARES !» Ji: lii ilj K Copyright. IW. l>\ \v R. Caldwell |:i I mmm wmm U cutsi.! not be said of Miss Hattie fci a»tßin. • inster, that at the age of t ■vt* _ i she was a good »»!.aig u .v.-'uster of that age cannot he expo*; t t The most that can '... e.\pe< .-d is « ":e will be klud I ,ud .. >1 Int. desire to reform the world and elevate the moral stand Sn,' of lnu iaulty generally. iss Shdiliu had that desire. In visit in ; New York city she had many, many times observed hard up looking men who we; e seemingly drifting into caivers of wickedness because there w is no or e at hand to encourage them ai d hold out a helping hand. She had often been tempted to address them, bit her brother Ben happened to be al >ng or site had seen some policeman w itching her or the hard up looking oi in made a sneak as she was about to >r >p. It was when Brother Ben went to Earope oil business that his sister de termined to curry out her long cher ished plans. She had the time and the money, and the steamer was hardly clear of Fire inland when she was In the city with her trunk and Installed in a boarding house where she had been acquainted for a uumber of years. In coufl ce she told the landlady of the object if her visit. It was all very well to dt.-r tc libraries and to endow hos pital; lid colleges, but when a man wat v.- Iking the streets of New York with L. ng-M- gnawing at his vitals and hope g >r'* out of his heart, of what use were such institutions to him? "If y u don't make a fool of yourself thou I do i't know how to make hash," replied the practical and level headed landlady, as >he rememliered the names of a few ii ir I tip tneti of the scores that had take i her lu for a few weeks' board i-.nce >he had been In the board ing hoi. Ie business. '•But how can I make a fool of my self. as you term it?" was asked. "If I speak kindly and encouragingly to •ome hopeless and penniless man, if I help hi a lo a situation; If I give him the oppir' unity to earn an honest liv ing oti'-e more, where can you criti cise?" "Never you mind. Vou've got money, and you've got a heart, and I've noth ing further to say." If sti • had had anything further to say it would have done no good. It wasn't two hours later that Miss Slief filn set out on her quest. She hadn't far to I ok. Any one who is seeking a homeless, hopeless man from twenty five lo seventy years of age can find him in upper Broadway at any hour of the day or night. He i* there and look ing for a good thing. Mi.-s Shetllin found one leaning up agah: t the railing in front of a drug store. Ills face betrayed gloom and his fcenei. I attitude disconsolation. and as he lo.,: ■ d in the bottles in the window he seemed to be wondering which held laudanum and which strychnine. She was about to address him when a plain clothes delect!ve came from the other direction and said to the man: "Now, then, out of this or I'll run you In." The hopeless man sighed aud moved on wearily. lie moved like one hurt and humiliated. lie moved down to ward the East river, as If he would take a header off the dock and end it all. Miss Shelllin followed after, and at the corner she overtook him and «aid: "You seem to be in trouble, sir, and If I can assist you I shall be triad to do so." He \ 111:111 about thirty years old. He La I i'u horn gambler and free lunch /It ten all over him, but the old maid's eye- detected no sign. He look ed at her f»r a minute and wondered what sort of a "plant" it was. Then he became conscious that he had strlick one of those "good things" he had read *. and heard tell of—a femal? ph.lanuiropist. Removing his hat nrti deepening his hopeless look, he replied: "Miss. 1 ha ve I een out of work lor weeks :-.n I weeks, and. so help me .heaven, I have had 110 food for two days. I was thinking of throwing myself under .1 street car and ending !t all." "How wicked to think of taking your own life!" "But of what use to live aud walk the streets penniless and hungry? Didn't you Just see a detective drive me along like a dog?" "1 did. and I felt almost like shoot ing him. Please follow me to my boarding house and tell me your story." He followed. He winked at an ac quaintance as he followed, and his wink was returned. He ran across the landlady as he entered the house after Miss Shetllin. and he heaved a sigh of relief as lie found her face unfamiliar. At the same time, however, he real ized that she was not a philanthropic landlady—not one to be taken in by any ordinary talo of distress. Sitting 111 the parlor beside the old maid aud working up all the pat Los he could, the tin horn man told his tale. It wag one that brought tears to her •yes. He was honest enough to plead guilty to embezzling S2O from his em ployer to bet on the races and penitent •nough to say that nothing on the face of the earth ever again should lead him Into crooked paths if he could get a new start. She had I>eeii the first and only one to speak a kind word. She had been the first and only one not to condemn him too strongly and to lead him to believe that his crime might be con doned and a new start made. He was toll that he sh mid have free room and bosir.l until he could look around. Ad vert iscmeiit.s should be put In the pa pers 10 aid him. Miss Shefflin herself would goto various stores nnd offices and use her personal influence. "I wish you joy of him." said the la 11 ila-l.v when the arrangements had been miple.ed and the young man had g 1. • out t.> 11.. ike his first application. "I'lea-e do not be so hard hearted, Mr*. T!' 1: t r;." was the reply. "It is a c - > of ss. 'f ] ever saw ■ • • liit:"*''.!* 1 <'ii!'caio«i. intelligent young man. willing to do anything tarn his way. being compelled to waL Around hungry for two days in this great city." 'T can't imagine it." "But why would he lie to uie?" "Why have a hundred Just like him lied to me?" "I tell you, Mrs. Thomas, that human nature is good If you will only give It a chance. If I hadn't the young man he would have beet! dead ander the wheels of a car ere this, and I should never have forgiven myself. I shall find him a place and make a •an of him once again, and h« will be <cmtofirt all ui« " During the next four days the tin horn man was looking for a place be tween meals, aul Miss Shetllin was making personal calls here and there. She met with no luck, but as some of the boarders smelted whisky 011 Tin Horn they thought lie must be doing well. On the fourth uight, after the philan thropist and her subject had had their usual talk and he had shed more tears than usual, ho wenl up to bod at sharp 9 o'clock. He wanted to get an earlier start than usual. The -1»!11 MT followed half an hour later. She found her door shut, but unlocked, and as -he stepped into the dark room and felt for lhe matches ; some one claipel a hand over her mouth and tossed her 011 to llie bed and had her bound hand and foot and gagged with a towel before she under- j stood what was taking place. Then the gas was lit, the door locked, and the tin horn man quietly said: • "If you tnf.ke a fool of yourself I'll 1 choke the life out of you by way of that scrawny neck of yours." It was e -y to see that she wanted ; to speak in reply, and for her benefit 1 he explained 1 "I'm after those sparklers in your ears and 011 your fingers and also what cash you have lying around." ; With her eyes she protested against this specimen of human ingratitude. He understood and laughed aud said: "You are homely enough to stop a clock, and the idea of your weaving diamonds Lr' absurd. Take a snooze now while I rummage about." Her trunk was not locked. From It he took in cash and other jewelry. ' From about her neck he took a long 1 chain and a fine watch. From her ears he tank diamond pendants, and j from her I.ngcrs lie roughly pulled her rings. Fhi» tried to yell, but the towel muffled her voice. She tried to scratch, but her han.ls were tied with cords he had provided for the purpose. She i tried to kick, br.t her ankles wore i lashed fast, and the effort was not a success. "Take It easy, old gal," laughed Tin : Horn. "I thought you had the disposi tion of a kitten, but I see you are an old cat. Let me see. I have watch, rings, earrings and money. I don't think there is anything else to take away. Your dresses would be no good, because they are last year's , style. Yes; I think this is all, and I will now descend by the fire escape and leave you to figure It out. Ex cuse me while I tie your tinkles to the bedpost. I can't have you rolling off and giving the alarm too soon. So long to you, old gal. and don't let this little episode discourage you from re forming the remainder of the world." They found her after a time, but Miss Slieiliin was no longer a philan- • throplst. She was simply a very mad Old maid. I A LAW OP THE DESERT. 1 Willi Water and Food Sc»rce, KJ- Irvine Measure* Ire Warranted, It was in the camp of Bullfrog that Mitchell, the big brick red mining man of Nevada, told me his view of law 011 the desert: "If you are prospecting with in un reasonable hog of a partner WIKJ wants to eat three slices of bacon and half a loaf of bread for breakfast and lets the canteen gurgle down his throat while you get along with a strip of bacon and just moisten your lips when you take a drink, then you're all right j if you kill him. I'd kill him if there wasn't anything else to do. It's a tough game, and It's your life or his when you're lost or your grub stake aud water are giving out." These observations tire suggested by the arrival in camp two days before of the bones of a prospector who had died of thirst some forty miles from Bullfrog during the previous summer. 1 He had been a carpenter, earning wages of $8 a day in the new camps ; during the "boom," but the gold fever ; led him away from this safe and I profitable toil. He picked up a part- 1 ner, they loaded their burros and trailed off south toward the Death val ley country to prospect in the Funeral range. Three weeks after the desert swal lowed them up the partner wandered Into a freighters' camp, half crazed with thirst and exhaustion. He was able to tell the freighters that the car penter was somewhere out beyond, lost and without water, too helpless to move. The partner was too weak and fevered togo back with the rescue party of freighters, so they left him In camp. He directed them as well as he could, but the search was bootless, and Grifiiu, the carpenter of Bullfrog, was added to the long list of desert victims. Several months later a party of prospectors tumbled by chance across what was left of him. There were no traces of his outfit. He had thrown away his gun, his canteen and his hat. One shoe was found thirty feet from his body, and he had torn off and flung away most of his clothing. These were the ghastly evidences of the last great tight he had made to struggle on. "When they're dying for warer," said Mitchell, who knows the"desert j game," "they throw away everything until till their clothes are gone, and | you generally tind them without a 1 stitch on."- Ralph D. I'aiuo in Outing. 1 POI NT"ED PARAGRAPHS. Don't save your money and starve j your mind. Vigorous thought must come from a ! fresh brain. Tens of thousands of people fail be- 1 cause they love their ease too much. "Keeping alive that spirit of youth," Stevenson used to say, was"the per ennial spring of all the mental facul ties." A man may build it palace, but he can never make of it a home. The spirituality and live of a woman alone can accomplish this. If we are contented to unfold the life within according to the pattern given us we shall reach the highest end of which we are capable. By proper training the depressing emotions can be practically eliminated from life and the g • >d emotions ren dered permanently dominant. Every time you crowd into the mem orj w hat yMI <io lint expect it to re tain you weaken its powers and you lose your authority to command Ita services. -Success. I'iiSM In I'liinn. A Poking correspondent says:"lt is no uncommon sight to see twelve or thirteen enormous fat pigs, with their b us tied, huddled close to.ether having n ride in a Chinese cart with some «ort of light <• it o on top of them and 11 man sitting oa the cargo. Tlie pigs are silent, and consequently one would think they should not be objects for the action of the Society For the I're vention of Cruelty to Animals. The fact is that flic* animals are too fat and lazy to make any noise until disturbed at their journey's end. when bagpipes are as Italian opera to the terrific squealing heard " On the Veldt [ r By FRANK H. SWEET t 3 Copyright, I'.MI, li> M M. Cuuulugbam p It was the dry season on the veldt, and the grass was burned down and half covered with yellow dust. Not a Vraal wis to be seen or a habitation, not a tree or shrub so far as the eye could reach only the ocher brown earth stretching away and at last end ing In the same level sky lines to the north aud south and east and west. ; ! and crossing the sun blistered waste one little animate dot. the canvas cov- j ered wagon of a Boer family trekking : with the sliee;» and cattle in search of u water coir, o that had not dried up. For thre* days had the dot been moving aero ■= iwaterless waste, and for three ; s had the sun left the thirty sky line '.a the cast only to glare down nitilessly until it dropped behind the equally thirsty sky line In the west, avl now the tongues of the cattle were hanging front their mouths and the sheep bloated piteously, and , the small quantify >f water brought a I .'Ug for the trekkers* own n«e was exhausted. I By the en 1 •>!' the second day they had expe ci to find water, but the s> .>ani c: .M 011 had proved but fl * 4»«:s* . sua iried < -presslon, and for v e yfo hour* they had followed lUs . )e.-s< h.».-iii.i ti find some sink ]. Ie ir > !i h the water had not | <!i >t. \ tli-'j v ere pondering the 'mve-sH,. - ..in: the next water c 1 e y •:- her twenty-four hours ; away. 1 i r were dry also, what ; then? Othe ;i'•>; had trekked over this j veldt b :'o:v them, and more would i follow, 1." .!?: \vas the annual custom. 1 When th .■ ''.j/ aaou came and burned every ■ grazing I aI. the Boers would load I their ft a.;!- into the great wagons, drawn ■-y m > »y spans of oxen. and. ! drlvln - tl. > she-p and cattle before them, s.v' water courses that had | not dv'i •• And there they would 1 ■ V "war.," HI: s\u» HARSHLY, "WHAT no VOU WANT?" remain as loag as the drought lasted, until weeks of steady and violent rains should «o:ne and transform the dry. barren veldt into it tropical garden. Then they would trek back home. Long before the sun rose for a new ; day of burning heat and thirst the dot ' »112 wagons and animals was ready fof departure. But even as it begat to crawl away from the river bed that was dry toward the one that might contain water, several of the mounted Boers who were circling about the cat tle descried something less than a third of a mile away. In the dim liirht they at first thought It a wild animal, and examined their rifles; then, as the object drew near, they nii'de It out lo be a man, and that he was on foot instead of horse back. But it was not until he had ap proached to within a few ro'is that they discovered ha was very young, scarcely more than a boy, and that he was an outlander. Now there Is nothing more obnoxious to a Boer than an outlander or wit lander—alien. He feels that their com ing into the country threatens his In stitutions, and that the very object of their coming is wrong. The treasures of the earth belong to the earth, and should not be wrested away. The bustle and desire for change, for wealth, for Investigating, even the progressive Ideas of these outsiders are causes for suspicion and dislike. So j when :i cherry "Hello!" came from the I wayfarer their answer was but a gruff j and unintelligible grunt. All this time the train was moving : forward, but slowly, for oxen are plod I ding travelers. The boy was obliged ! to pause for the animals to pass, and he watched the long, straggling line | with the interest of a newcomer. After the cattle nnd sheep and their guard ! cams the creaking, unwieldy wagons, ! with their lnspanned oxen. Beside the | first of these wagons rode a large, broad faced man whose white hair and air of authority proclaimed him tho head of the family. As he came oppo site the boy stepped forward. "Hello," he called again cheerfully. The man looked down at hlrn, his face hardening, but he stopped. "Well" stil ' harshly, "what d • jou wan'? Isn't it « little strange far a lIIM to be crossing the veldt without a horse?" "<)h. I don't know,"the boy answer e I carelessly. q walked up from the cua. t three nioni!'; ago. You see, I didn't lure money enough for a horse and a go >d outfit, and I needed the out lit most. Besides, I was raised on a l'arni and am used to walking A man I met carried my outfit to the mines, and I pegged on behind." "And now you are going back home empty handed?" the Boer asked, sar c»«t icn 111- "N'o. indeed." quickly. "I didn't come here for fun. I'm going to college Home time, and that takes money; and I've got half a dozen brothers and sis ters wh > are plannii.g for different things it was eisjest f,.r me to leave, so all • 112 them putin their savings to ward my expe .s. <>f course I don't exp l ' l 11 > Let ri h." frankly, "but I shall work har lto 1 e back enough to get lis aii a »: >od start." Th • I.oer grunted. "Why are yen g >ing I aek, then, with out your outfit'" he demanded. "Got to have smiethiug to eat." the boy answered easily. "I we v it to the uilnei first, but the only opening was to ( "work for somebody eise or to tmj it claim at a fabulous price, so I shoul dered my outfit and struck off pros pecting. I kept it up three weeks, and now." Ills eyes flashing eagerly Into the grim ones above him, "I believe I've found a spot that will turn me in a lot of money. But I'm out of provisions j and must go back after a supply. I don't suppose you have any you would j sell?" "No," shortly, "but where's your out | fit?" "Oh. I've concealed that In the sand, i 1 guess It'll be all right. Anyway, I there was nothing else to do. But I i didn't stop you to talk about myself," ; coloring a little. "I wanted to say that ! your cattle are awful thirsty. At home | we would drop everything to furnish ■ such cattle with water quick." The Boor's face relaxed somewhat. • Even If there was no water between j four days' journey?" he asked con temptuously. "You ultlanders, who ! would do all things, can make rivers as | you need them, I suppose?" "Tliere Is the water course only one ' day's Journey behind you," the boy re j torted, "and your cattle show they were I 11 t ntteuded to there. No matter the I hurry a man may be in. It is a crime to t neglect beasts as you have yours." "The water course behind was dry, as tl.is is. and as the next one may be," I the Boer said. "My teams have not j hud water in three days, and God knows what may happen If the next j river bod is like this one and the last." The boy's face pnled suddenly. "The river dry." he gasped. "Why, 1 counted on getting water there. I've only Just enoturh with me to last one day." Then he forsrot himself In cou i cern for the cattle. "You must turu back toward the pint" I've found." he cried authorita tive!;,-; "it's only live or six miles away. There's a hole in the river bed that has water, and It's thirty yards or more t-er >ss it id several feet deep. It will be enough to supply your herds for some wor-':s. And beyond it are three <>r tor miles of good grazing wliv!*-* the soil hits not yet became dry. If you keep oa this eour.se the cattle w ill all parish." The Buer bul straightened up, pre paratory to riding on. but ut this he turned sh :r : i!y. "Water." !:e tried, "and plenty of it." He raised his hand to Ins mouth and called to the men In front. One of them roda lwiek. To him he gave a quick, peremptory order Then he turned back to the boy. "I'o yo't understand what you have done?" li ■ demanded. "This place you have discovered w ill need water to work it.and il' we use that, as we doubtless shall, you will lose all the beticflt of your discovery for this sea son." The boy threw back his licud as though to ward oiT the insinuation. "The cattle need the water more than the land." he returned. "If the water is gone when I return with the pro visions, i can 5,0 and prospect some where else. a;id perhaps come back after the rains set In. The folks at home would not want me to put by money at the expense of suffering." Tl.»-j Boer lean -d down and held out his hand "It I- well," lie said simply. "You will go back to the basin with us. We do not sell provisions, but ve have plenty which we will give you. And it may be." w!ih a friendly twinkle ban ishing the last trace of hardness from his eyes, "that we will be abl« to ad vance the su<-e»-ss of your object here." ALt SPICE. Brrtlrn of (lie llt-ii 011 fu I ami Fra- Kruut Pimento Tree. The pimento, or allspice, tree is cul ! Jivated in the West Indies and Jamai- I a. This beautiful tree usually grows Ito a height of about thirty feet. It i lias a straight trunk, much branched above and covered with a very smooth brown bark. The leaves vary in size ind shape, but are always of a dark, shining green color. I Hiring the months of July and August the tree is in full bloom, the blossoms consisting of very fragrant small white flowers. When a new plantation of pimento trees is to be formed no regular sow ing or planting takes place, because it Is next to Impossible to propagate the young plants or to raise them from seeds in parts of the country where they are not found growing spontane ously. Usually a piece of land is se lected either close to a plantation al ready formed or in a part of the wood laud where pimento trees are growing in a native state. The chosen piece of land is then cleared of all wood ex cept these trees, and the felled timber Is allowed to remain on the ground for the purpose of protecting the very young pimento plants. At the end of two years the land Is thoroughly cleared, and only the most vigorous pimento trees and plants are left standing. The plants come to ma turity In about seven years. In favorable seasons the pimento crop Is enormous, a single tree often yielding a hundred or more pounds of the dried spice. The berries are picked while green, because if left 011 the tree until ripe they lose their pungent taste and are valueless. The greeu berries are exposed to the sun for a week or ten days, when they lose their green color ami turn a reddish brown. When perfectly dry they are put. In bags find casks for exportation. The odor and the taste of the pimen to berries -ire thought to resemble a combination of those of cinnamon, nut meg and cloves; hence the familiar name "allspice." The Great IMttirult y. "One-half of the world's happiness is solved when a person learns to mind his own business." "Yes, but it's the other half that causes the most trouble." "What's that?" "Getting other people to mind theirs." —Home Notes. No Kirk Coining j Mrs. Jones—Do you appreciate what that is you are eating? Tramp (with his mouth I'tilb—N'o'm! Mrs. Jones- Well, that is angel cake with wine Jelly and whipped cream. Tramp—Oh, well, anything tastes good when a fel ler's hungry, mum! New York Press. How lit- Kdpu 11. Fair Passenger- They say you can't j fool a street car conductor with a plugged nickel, but I worked one off on.him a few minutes ago. The Other PasseugtV I know It. madam. He gnve It to me in change just now. Chi cago Tribune. The Art of (ilove < uttliifit. The cutters of the great glove houses In Brussels and in France earn even higher wages than the cutters of the most fashionable tailors in London and New York. So difficult Is this art of cutting gloves thai most of the prin cipal cutters are known to the trade by name nnd by fame, and the peculiar knives which they use in the business are so highly prized that they are 1 anded down trom generation to gen oration us heirlooms. ! Gypsy Jan liy touslar.ee D'Arcy Mack&y 1 ni>> i-li<ht. IDOti. i > Ruby Douglas Clayt struck off from the wood path he had been -llowing to the mala 1 road. He had cli 1 the end of Sep tember for his vaeni'iou. Already sum mer was mclliwin; into autumn, the maple- wore tipped with yellow, nnd in the dark recesses of the woods Bu rn: e lowed with a color that was al mo-1 fiamelike. As he walked on ei ther hand ro:ched fields of alternate stu' M ■ and • 1 grass, starred here and there by patches of goidenrod or si. :Ut purple h.mws Fall sounds were in the air. Late crickets chirped. ' Crow ■ cawed across the fences. Bits of thistledown Honied lazily In the morning sunlight Except for occa sional farmhouses standing by the way « r a passing team, the road was deserted, and Clayton was musing pleasantly on hs solitude when an un expose I turn past a clump of trees brought l'ini n;wn a camp of gypsies. He went forward with quickened in teret. They had pitched their tents in a lit tle lioll iw through which a stream ran. In the background stood a canvas cov ered v. agon and a half dozen lean, tethc;< 1 horses, in the foreground smoldered 1 lie ashes of a fire. Round this clustered a few half naked chil dren and some wrinkled crones with huge ;;ilt earrings in their ears. "The men of the camp had evidently gone foraging, nor were the women slow to turn a penny, for one of them called out to Clayton that she would tell his fortune. Clayton shook hi 3 head impatiently and went on. If he had it toM rt all. It must be by some young, black eyed girl, such a one a* he saw approaching half a mile be yond th- camp, a tall, lithe creature, | who walked with the grace of those ! accustomed to the open. She wore a ! red skirt, a white blouse falling away ' from her throat and caught with a bit ' of dull yellow that matched her girdle, j One blw've wps torn, and her arm J showed through, dusky and rounded. | Iler d irk hair was twisted with what | looked to be scarlet bends, but which upon nearer inspection proved to be rose fruit strung on grass. "The princess of her tribe," thought Clayton. She was playing with a curious dag ger that she held and did not see him till he accosted her. Then she looked up, startled. "Will you tell my fortune?" he que ried. smiling, and held out his hand. "When It has been crossed with sli ver." she answered, her black eyee j gleaming. i"The life line Is deep," she went on I quickly. "You have made your way | so far. for you are ambitious and 1 hardworking. You do not come from I Brlerley village nor from the country round here. You fire from the city. You are nearly thirty and unmarried. Do I read true?" she asked. with a swift upward glance. "Quite true." said Clayton amusedly. "No woman has touched your heart, but th -re is one who soon will." "Dark or fair?" "Dark and very wealthy. You will see her this afternoon at 4 o'clock." "Well. I'm glad I'm warned," said Clayton, with a laugh. "How long have you been here?" nodding In the direction of the camp. She shrugged her shoulders. "How can I tell? A few days—a week maybe. We gypsies do not meas ure time." "And what is your name?" "Jan." she answered, turning on her heel with the indifference of a queen. Now that . : e had told his fortune she seemed anxious to be gone. "A mercenary young wretch, like the re-it of them." murmured Clayton, looking after her That aftevnj)ii he strolled toward the village. 'i he season was over, and mo t of il. ■ I g • hotels were closed. So v. ere t " heads ,me private cottages, save a f«* ■ owners preferred the luxury of s ilitude. Arden, the • rminer home of Alyard, the copper king, was still open, Miss Aly.i!-' 1 it was -aid, caring more for her t: hies and kennels than for so ciety. As t le .t .1 |i > vd It. admiring Its green lawn and well kept flower bedsj, a smart trap came down the driveway, in it sat a g'rl dressed in white. Clay ton could not see her face, for she held a lace parasol to screen her eyes, but lie liked the patrician poise of her head. As they rattled past hitn with a gay clanking of silver harness the coach man turned in answer to some ques tion. "It's exactly 1 o'clock. Miss Alyard," lie said deferentially. Clayton started and then laughed at himself for being foolish enough to mind it gyp prophe-'-y. And yet— the nrosnet t was alluring— n rich wife I KILLth. couch I I «NMDU"f 5 the lungs j WIT,i fir. King's Nsw Discovery I /Consumption pmco 3 FDR S JUGHS and 50c & SI.OO I WOLCS Free Trial. U Surest and Quickest Cure for all I THROAT and LUNG TROUB- I I.ES, 01 MONEY BACK. in in A nellabl© TIN SHOP 1 1 Tor all kind of Tin Roofing Spoutlrte and General Job Work. Stoves, Heaters, Ranges, Furnaces, eto. PRICES THE LOWEST! QUALITY Till! BEST! JOHN HIXSON MO. 116 E. FRONT ST. and money to - pursue - Fug studies tnT Carls uiitramnieleti for. though Clay- 1 ton's name was beginning to lie k«own In the world of ,'rehi lecture. it liad j been hard fighting every step of the j way. Even 11 »w he was not free from 1 financial difficulties. and instead of put- j ting up at the Juxirious country club , which was still o;>n to visitors he i was housed in 11 112 irm at the village ! outskirt . But, whether the .gypsy had read his j : fate tru'y or not. there was something ! tantalizing nnd r 'eriotis about her j prophecy, nnd .'ay ho went again j 'to the cwup. .'.i 1 was nowlice ir, 1 t sight. In v 11• 1 he • eestionel the old 1 , Li'g v. ho had ■» -v -d to tell his fortune j I th" day h»f«v* • ; ; h" declared there was I ■ > 1 and called on a • are young fellow' > w! . i . • !o •• by to confirm her in I ■ wit 1 ! I "- N - •" •: • : ' ated. ".No Jan is ! he . ' i » argue, and Clayton j t " i with a feeling of de- j 1- <*he I 011 a fence near j -t seen her. he espied ! I s • you at the camp," j '• told me there was I . ' 112: » '!< 1!".»• 1.1. j v y>: that?" She threw I 1 . 'i ' • I ! her brown throat 1 ■ 1 • .is a young fellow ttiere jv,!i 1 5 ■ asif l he would like to mur-1 dor t:.e." "Yn 1 Z ■ re? Ho li terribly j. lot'-. lea t thing puts him In a' I j: .;s:o-i. '. it is why lie pretended not' to know* \,lier.» 1 v.l "A 11! where w re you?" ••Ot:t 'a l':e woods at the edge of the! liill 11 • the sunrise. It was like a| c.intpiire burning behind the trees." j She was as volvble as she had been ! r 'tier*a, h ;>re. and. vaulting up on the i 112 :neo lie i'e !•••; Clayton sat and talk- I ed ■;!! 112 >3Ji. It w. l ::: ..* when he reached h!s ■ frirmh:>u e th it he remembered that I J lie had mi to ask her about his fu- 1 i ture, and -'he had bewitched him so ■ that he h d ft.rgotten it. The next two j days it r: -ie I.and <>: i the third he fain! the ••py camp deserted. A, charred sp marked the place where j their tire; he.i teen, and that was all. ; They hll vanished as silently as they | h id', r.: \ And 1.0 one seemed to know what j trail hi I l>een taken. Clayton was dis- j appointed to the verge of moodiness. Try as he would, he could not drive Jan from his thoughts. Now he pictur ed 1 - walking down the road, erect and graceful; now he fancied her crouching by the fire at night and probably with Ziugare opposite, a thought which made him grind his teeth. Again and again Miss Alyard pas>-;-d him i.i her high red cart, but he ; would not so much as turn to look. | What were all the heiresses in the ! wori I compared to what he had lost? In a crisp twilight as he wandered ! down the road some one stole up be- j hind hitn and touched his arm. ".In 11 i" he cried Joyfully. "It's you! 1 Where ha\e you been? I've searched : and searched. Perhaps"—he frowned— "perhaps you and Ziugare"— "Zin :tre!" Her voice was full of scorn. I "You do not love him?" I "Xo!" contemptuously. "Then. Jan, will you marry me?" j "I. a gypsy? But your people—your j frleuds" - "Confound r.i.v friends! I love you!" ! "Even if you find that I've deceived j you as only some gypsies know how to deceive? At first, when you mistook me in my Hungarian walking costume, it was a .Joke— telling your fortune nnd then driving past you afterward—and then I meant to tell you I was Clorlnda Alvard and I couldn't. I couldn't be cause I wanted to see if you'd care for | me and not for anything else. And 1 you do love me?" It was the girl nnd ' not the heiress who spoke. "More t1i...; my life." said Clayton. , They are called the eccentric Clay tons, because people sometimes meet | them in the woods, walking together, j hand in hand, laughing like children, sh" in a curious red and yellow cos- j turne and h > in a Idne flannel suit de- ! eldedly the worse fa* wear. J ! of Danville. i I Of course you read ! I Mil« i j * J; THE FjEOPLEIS POPULAR I APER, . | _ I Everybody R ids It. ! ■ " ! '' Publisher. I:very Mor -.1 •; [Except Sunday i ' ! I No. II b. M■'?!'.v ng St. : » ■ Subscription < . : r Week. POWER OF MIND. n Vnluuhle A*m»i In Pre** #•»»«•«• of |>aiiKer. I i . • (•nee of iniiiii is always uu as '<• !i is especially valuable in pres • ce «>l' thinner such as springs from i ; ,> of men intent upon mur- Tliis was never better exempll :ie i simit wlic i a gang of meu set out (u lake the life of Mazzlnl. He got to !. .ir ol their project. All the precau •i . :s lie look was to get ready a storo i -very »-\eetl«>nt cigars. The ruffians ! [ re-ently appeared at his address. 'oitie in. gentlemen,' he said and j i tuce.l his cigars. To each man he hait \l 'in'. Taken aback at their '!»« ion, thej seemed abashed and j : 'ised. "1 know that you came to ; k:i! r.ie." lie said. "Why do you not ■c -d t > your task?" This was too iutich for even this bloodthirsty depu iti » ! They could not kill the man wit' • i ,p«rs tliey were smoking and | li > iiiviie.l them to carry out their : task. Mmierii!:; some excuse for hav \ ii . ii. iM-upted his-studies, they shuf j •<« mi! of tlie room aud troubled him I no more. ;. < !i n:au has his own method with would b> assassins. With Napoleon it was the tye which counted. While !:o was visiting tlie Duke of Saxe-Co 'turg (iot!i:t uiie of the duke's retainers 'nude up !jm mind to slay nim. He tiad so if ,uently beard the great man denounced as the curse of Europe that fell iiiiiieiii'd seize the chance to destroy hi:n. ile was a common sol dier at the time and had to do sentry i duly In one ot the corridors of the p". 1 - ■ ] ace along which Napoleon passed, lie I put bis finger to the trigger as tho I duke, accompanied by Napoleon, drew !in sight. He aimed for Napoleon's i heart. Napoleon saw him. He said 1 nothing, but simply fixed his eagle eye | upon the youth. The latter seemed spellbound. lit? iet the musket fall ; with a crash to the floor of the stone j corridor. He felt, he said, as if ha I uiust have swooned. Napoleon took I no further notice, said no word, pass- | ed upon his way as if nothing had hap- j pened. That one hashing glance had j saved bis life He knew Its effect ! and value. St. .lames' Gazette. t ' I Jealousy. The beautiful girl's sweet smile* i changed fo dark frowns. "You deceiver!" she hissed. "I hat« you I" The yo.ui. man dropped his cane ic astonishment. "Hate me!" b" gasped. "Why, it was only yesterday you said you lovec" every lriir on i y head." "Yes. liul ii. »• hair 011 youi slwul'h:." -V •• ■ Til ...s >!u» lir-lc '.u'ii a ; o':l;>;i ' e'-'MeUfi*.—f!" T -VCKAWAN sAt UWtUAD. ** -lilJ •) V. R<* Di V telON Dtlaware, Lackawanna and Western Railroad. In Effect Jan. 1, 190.V TRAINS LEAVE DANVILLE K AST WARD. 7.07 a. m. dally tor BlootnKburg, Kingston, Wilkes-Bar re ami Scranton. Arriving Scraa ton at 9.1*2 a. in ~ and connect ing at Scran lot I with trains arriving at Philadelphia at H.4S a in.and New York City at 3.30 p. m. 10.19 a. m. weekly for Bloomsburg. Kingston W'llkes-Barre,Scranton and intermediate sia • tlons, arriving at Scranton at 12.35 p. in.and ! connecting there with trains for Nnv Y«rrfe City. Philadelphia aud Buffalo, i 2.11 weekly for Bloomsburg,KlngHtou,Wlik«» | Barre, Scranton and intermediate stations I arriving at Scranton at 4.50 p. u>. ■ 5.43 n. m. dally for Bloomsburg, Espy, Piy- I mouth, Kingston, Wilkes-Barre, Plttston, I Scranton and intermediate station?, arriving I at S«-ranton at 5.25 p. m.and connecting there with trains arriving at New York City at 0.5 l a- m.. Phlladeiiieia 10a. in.and Buffalo 7a m. TRAINS ARRIVE AT DANVILLE 9.15 a. m. weekly from Scranton, Plttston, Kingston, Bloomsburg and Intermediate sta tions, leaving Scranton at 6.35 a. m., where It connects with trains leaving New Yor.: City at 9.30 p. in., Philadelphia at 7 (>2 p.m. and Buffalo at 10.30 a. m. J 12.44 p. m. dally from Soranton Pittston, I Kingston, Berwick. Bloomsburg and interme- I diate stations, leaving Si-rant-on at 10.10 a. m. I and connecting there with train leaving Buff alo at 2.25 a. m. 4.33 p. m. weekly 0111 Scranton. Kingston, llerwick. Bloomsburg and intermediate sta tions, leaving Scranton at 1.55 p. m., where 11 connects with train leaving New York City at 10.0(1 a. m..and Philadelphia at 9.00 a. m. 9.0?; p. in.daily from Scranton. Kingston, Pittston. Berwick. Bloomsburg and Interme diate stations, leaving Scranton at «.85 p.m., where It connects with trains leaving New I York City at 1.00 p. m.. Philadelphia at 12.-H p. in.and Buffolo at 9.30 a, m. T. E. CLARKE. Gen'l Sitp't. T. W.LEE, tien. Paw. A«fl. ii m i lijjt... We want to in al Ms if Printing fiS! i Ill's lit 1 (ill Mr I Jll'S Mt 5 I 1 A. well prir ■* c' tasty, Bill or ' J \) / ter Head. I\>»' > h|a Ticket, Circuit Program, Stare L>A ment or Card (y ) an advertiscrufu for you: business, * satisfaction to you I |Nev Type, lew Presses, % ,, Best Paper, M ffilM W, "' Promptnßss j M] vou can ask. A trial will mak« you our customer. We respectfull" •. - that trial. ii sin ii i¥f i¥f- No. II E. Mahoniiiif Si ,x,E. I s A
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers