A ,. aa
ue lane
oF [rast
REsisTaNCE,
qd
—D. OQ»
By Grace ELiERY CHANNING,
REALLY don’tknow which
is the more charming of
the two,” said Aunt Myra,
n as her nieces hurried up
al 5] the path.
“They are certainly creditable types
of young America,” assented Uncle
Charlie, in a tone of much satisfac-
tion.
All unconscious of this critical sur-
vey, the two girls hurried forward.
It was not every day that one had
an uncle and aunt come home from
Europe. Aunt Myra, in particular,
represented to their untraveled eyes
something foreign and marvelous.
Rodney and the younger children, their
first curiosity sated, had returned to
their usual pursuits. but the elder girls
could with difliculty keep their eyes
from their aunt, or themselves from
her side.
“0 aunty,” said Myra, seizing one
arm while Susie possessed herself of
the other, “do come and see our gar-
dens!” and they led her away between
them, while Uncle Charlie sauntered
behind, mentally trying to decide be-
tween Mpyra’s blonde prettiness and
Susie’s rosy charm.
“Mine isn't much to observed
Susie, ruefully, “but Myra’s garden is
lovely.”
“Now, what makes the difference. 1
wonder?’ thought Aunt Myra, looking
keenly down on the two little plots,
while Myra, from her flowery one,
gathered a handful of roses and helio-
trope while Susie hunted vainly among
the leaves of hers for violets.
“I'm afraid they are all gone,” she
announced, regretfully, rising. “Father
likes to take a few into the office every
day. I guess he took the last. And I
did have some lovely carnations, but
Rod must have picked them for the
dance last night, so there's nothing but
mignonette left. TI always plant a lot
of that; mother's so fond of it.” She
offered a cluster of the green and
brown heads apologetically.
“Mignonette is quite good enough for
any one,” said Aunt Myra.
“Including me,” said Uncle Charlie,
helping himself to a spray.
“And me!” broke in Rodney's voice,
laughingly, while without ceremony he
stopped and plucked several bits from
his sister's garden. ‘By the way, Su-
sie, I rifled your plot of some superfine
carnations last night.”
“I judged you did,” she replied. “You
took all there were, mad boy!”
“If you had asked me, I would have
given you some roses,” said Myra.
“It was easier helping myself to Su-
gie’s. I knew she wouldn't mind,” an-
swered Rodney; and again Aunt Myra
glanced inquiringly from one to the
other.
“T’ll take these to your room now,
aunty,” Myra continued, “and then
we'd like to show you ours; that is, if
you're not too tired or busy?”
“My present business is to make ac-
quaintance with my nieces, and I think
rooms tell a great deal about the peo-
ple who live in them,” said Aunt Myra,
mischievously.
“Oh dear me!” thought Susie. “We'd
better show you Myra’s first, then,”
she said, aloud.
“Come along, Uncle Charlie,” said;
Rodney, promptly slipping an arm
through his uncle’s and walking him
off behind the ladies till they halted
on the threshold of Myra's room.
‘This jis a charming room!” ex-
claimed Aunt Myra, glancing with
pleased eyes from the dainty bed and
toilet-table to the spotless muslin cur-
tains, the divan with its neatly piled
cushions, the bookcase with its orderly
editions, and last, the carefully ap-
pointed writing-table, with its fresh
sheet of blotting paper and pretty silver
“fixings.”
“Just the kind of nest I like to see
a young girl in,” commented Aunt
Myra, approvingly, “and I see you take
care of your things, too.”
Myra flushed with pleasure. “O
dear me!” Susie exclaimed involuntar-
ily, so that every one looked at her
in astonishment, and she laughed
aloud.
“I'm afraid you won't approve of my
room at all, Aunt Myra,” she said, as
she led the way across the hall, adding
heroically, “Come in, please!” as she
flung open the door.
*Why, I cali this a charm
100,’ began Aunt Myra, and stopped,
vaguely puzzled.
“The children
see,”
ing room,
will make book-
houses,” said Susie, dolefully, glancing
at the shelves, where big and little
books alternated without regard to sets.
“And the baby will leave his blocks
here”’—she swept a pile hastily from
the sofa and began “plumping” up the
disordered cushions—‘“and these cush-
jons ought to have been recovered long
ago, I know, but—"
“But she has a big brother who comes
in and makes hay of them daily, and
who is responsible for a goodly portion
- of the wear,” put in Rodney, coming
io the rescue with an affectionate pat
on Susie's shoulder.
“J don’t much blame him,” said Uncle
Charlie. “That's an awf{uliy tempting
«corner. I shall be caught sinning my-
self some day.”
“Oh, please do!” said Susie. “That
writing-table looks dreadfully, aunty.
Pon writes all his exercises there; and
the children do get at things,” she add-
2d, fitting the pieces of a broken can-
dlestick together.
Aunt Myra made the circuit of the |
room, noting silently as she did so that |
ghe writing-table had seen many del- |
i
| “but I will take this.
uges of ink, the chairs much service,
and the carpet and books hard wear.
She kept these observations to herself,
however, only praising the cheerful
and homelike feeling, “which is the
greatest charm of any room,” she said,
smiling at her dejected niece. The
three went down stairs arm in arm,
whither Uncle Charlie and Rodney had
already preceded them, intent on ten-
nis.
“Somebody will ‘have to lend me a
racket,” Uncle Charlie was saying, eye-
ing the rack.
“Oh, there's Susie’s,” returned Rod-
ney. “Or wait, you'd better have mine,
and I'll use Susie’s.” He took down
two battered specimens. “The fact is,
Don has played so many matches with
this that it’s more or less invalided;
but I know its weaknesses.”
“What's the matter with this?” said
his uncle, reaching for a third, and
swinging it scientifically. “Seems to
be all right. New, too.”
“Oh, that's Myra’s,” began Rodney,
when Mpyra’s voice cut him short.
“You are more than welcome to use it,
Uncle. Please do.”
Uncle Charlie hesitated a moment,
then laid the racket aside with an odd
expression.
“Thank you, but I think I’d better
stick to the family one. My rackets
have a way of coming to grief.”
The puzzled look on Aunt Myra's
face deepened as the day wore on, but
she devoted herself to drawing out her
young relatives on the subjects of their
tastes, occupations and diversions. Af-
ter dinner they all gathered about the
library-table, looking over the hand-
some editions of their favorite authors,
which the girls had received the pre-
vious Christmas.
In the midst of the admiration and
discussion, Mr. Chauncey entered. Tak-
ing up a volume of Mpyra's beloved
Hawthorne, he began to turn the pages,
and becoming interested, sat down and
was soon absorbed. Bedtime found
him still reading, and Myra, after bid-
ding the others good night, gathered
up the rest of the set carefully and ap-
proached her father.
“Good night, father!”
“Good night, child!” he answered, ab-
sently kissing the offered cheek with-
out removing his eyes from the page.
Myra hesitated a moment.
“Did you want anything, child?’ he
asked, innocently looking up.
“No, nothing,” said Myra, hurriedly.
She stooped and kissed him again.
“Good night! Oh, and by the way, fa-
ther, when you have finished with that
volume, will you please bring it up-
stairs? 1 like to keep them together.”
“What? Oh!” Mr. Chauncey woke
up suddenly with a startled air. “Take
it with you now, my dear. I was mere-
ly glancing at it.”
Uncle Charlie and Aunt Myra stooped
simultaneouesly to pick up a news-
paper.
“Oh, no, keep it as long as you like,”
said Myra, graciously.
‘No, no!” Her father shut the book.
“l have plenty else to do,” and with
a sigh as of one brought sharply back
to realties, he pulled out a budget of
business papers and fell to work. After
a moment of hesitation, Myra walked
away with the bool.
Uncle Charlie and Aunt Myra greeted
her with the usual smiles the next
morning, and the former announced
that unpacking their trunks would en-
gage them that day.
“Only I shall have to borrow some-
body’s table and ink first to write a
business note,” he added.
“Go right up and use mine, uncle.”
said Susie. “You will be perfectly
quiet there.”
“Or mine,” said Myra.
“Much obliged to you both,” replied
their uncle, gathering up his papers.
Half an hour later he rejoined them,
saying casually:
“You'll find a few cxtra ink spots on
your blotter, Susie. Being a careless
fellow. 1 didn’t risk inking Myra's.
And now,” he added. “your aunt and I
will just spin down and gather in those
trunks if one of you will lend her a
wheel. I've already requisitioned Lod-
ney’s.”
“Take mine, of course, aunty,” said
Susie. - “That is, if you don’t mind a
dreadfully shabby one. Mother and
Don and I all use it, so somehow it is
never clean.”
“I was going to offer aunty imine,”
began Myra, in a tone of vexation.
Oh, then you had better take dMyra’s,
aunty,” said Susie.
“Thank you both,” Aunt Myra re-
sponded, slipping away to dress.
When she emerged, a very elegant
figure in her handsome suit, she found
both wheels drawn up for inspection.
Mjyra’s shone like new, while Susie's
scarred handle-bar, tarnished spokes
and worn tires bore marks of hard
usage.
“Do take Mpyra’'s, aunty!” said Susie.
“You see mine does look like destruc-
tion.”
“They are honorable scars,” said
Aunt Myra. She hesitated, looking
from one to the other.
“Do be careful, Don!” said Mjyra,
sharply, as her small brother gave the
pedal a whirl. “You scratch the ep-
amel all up.”
Aunt Myra laid her hand suddenly
upon Susie's handle-bar.
“Thank you both,” she said, quietly,
I am rather out
of practice and might scratch the en-
amel myself.”
“Just as you please, of course,” said
Myra, coldly.
She put her wheel in
the rack and walked away without
another look.
Late that afternoon a knock gt the
door of Aunt Myra’s room summoned
that lady. Myra stood on the thresh-
old.
“May I speak to you a moment?’ she
inquired, with an air of injured dignity.
“Why, certainly. Come in, dear,” re-
plied her aunt, hospitably.
Myra, however, declined the proffered
chair, and remained standing stiffly.
“I only wanted to ask what I have
done to offend you and uncle?”
“What makes you think we are of-
fended?”
“Neither you nor uncle will let me
do the slightest thing for you. You
refuse everything of mine for Susie’s.
You wouldn't ride my wheel, 3 play
with my racket, or write at my table,
and just now, when uncle wanted a
dictionary and I offered mine, he said,
‘Perhaps Susie has one.” ”
In spite of herself, Aunt Myra’s lips
twitched, but glancing at the tragic
figure before her, she controlled herself
and answered soberly:
‘“When one is in Rome, one does as
the Romans do. Whose wheel does
your mother ride?”
“‘Susie‘s generally, but——"
‘Whose racket does everybody play
with?’
“Susie's, but—"
“If there is a letter to write, or a
book to read, or a flower to gather,
whose room or whose garden does
every one turn to?”
“I know,” began Myra, flushing.
“Where do the babies go if they want
a playground?”
“They prefer to—"
“Why do they prefer to?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ah.” sald her aunt, “I 0.”
“But,” protested Myra. “I have of-
fered both you and Uncle Charlie—"
“Oh, you have been most polite, my
child; but do you think any one conld
be in this house a day and not see that
things are your treasures, and where
our treasure is, there will our hearts
be every time. The responsibility for
your things is too heavy, my dear.”
“You mean because I am particular?
3ut you said yourself you liked to see
things taken care of.”
“I did; I do. I even think it is rather
hard on Susie that her things are bor-
rowed so much; but all the world can’t
have a bicycle and a tennis racket, and
to give and take is about the best of
life, in families or out of them. You
can’t lend your possessions now, ycu
see, and that’s a dreadful poverty.”
“Aunt Myra!”
“Well,” said her aunt, rising, “iry and
see. Youll have an excellent oppor-
tunity ready to your hand, for your
uncle is taking your father, your
mother and Rodney to the opera. Some-
body is sure to want something before
they get started.”
Aunt Myra proved a true prophet.
“Susie, dear,” exclaimed Mrs. Chan-
cey, at the last momeut, “where are
your opera-glasses?”’
“All ready and waiting, mother. Only
do remember to keep the shabby case
hidden,” Susie, added, with a. laugh,
tucking it into her mother’s hand.
“Take mine, mother,” said, Myra,
with a little defiant glance at ber aunt.
“I’ll run and get them.”
“Thank you, dear.” There was a
note of surprise in her mother's voice.
“But I don’t mind the case, and I am
used to these. Something might hap-
pen to yours.”
“It looks threatehing in the west!
called Uncle Charlie, from the door.
“Better take umbrellas.”
“Dear me, and I left mine at the of-
fice!” said Mr. Chauncey. “Rodney—
but you will need your own. Susie, my
child, lend me yours. will you?’
“Let me lend you mine, father,” rer-
sisted Myra, but without meeting her
aunt's eyes this time. “Mine is larger.”
“No, no; this one of Susie’s will do
very “well,” said Mr. Chauncey, good-
naturedly. “And besides, I might for-
get again and leave it in town.”
And at that moment Rodney capped
the climax by hurrying up with an im-
petuous:
“I say, Susie, just let me have your
watch this evening, there's nn good fel-
low. 1 left mine to be mended.”
“You can have mine,” faltered Myra,
with a movement to unpin it; but her
brother merely stared, and answered
with fraternal eandor:
thanks! This is a pleasure-
I shouldn’t have a moment's
peace of mind.”
“Here's mine,” said Susie, Slipping
it into her brother's hand. ’ “While
you are about it,” she added slyly,
“you can just have your man put in a
new crystal when you get yours.”
“Now that Susie has equipped the
expedition, suppose we start,” observed
Uncle Charlie.
Aunt Myra had disappeared; but fif-
teen minutes later she opened her door
for the second. tim2 vo her namesake,
who burst out despairingly:
‘O Aunt Myra, do you think it is all
my fault?”
“Yes and no. - Come in, my child.
They never ought to have let you grow
up in such ways. But families, like
other things, follow the line of least
resistance. In this case that is—Susie.
Then grown-ups have their own cares
and worries. It's rather hard to expect
them to keep disciplining themselves in
order to discipline you—which is*avhat
it comes to. You will have to cure
Yourself, I'm afraid.”
“But, Aunt Myra, it's dreadful!”
“It is,” responded Aunt Myra, sober-
ly. She was seated beside a capacious
trunk, which at any other moment
would have made Myra’s pulses dance
with anticipation. “Sit down. I am
facing this very problem now. We are
a good many Christmases and birth-
days in arrears, you know, So we
brought you each something special in
addition to gloves and trifles. Rodney
is to have a watch, which I hope will
extend the term of life of Susie's. Don
“No,
comes in for a shotgun, under promise
not to shoot song-birds or himself. le-
membering your fondness for pretty
things, we intended this for you.” Khe
laid a white satin case on \ s knee,
and pressing a spring, disciosed a
charming pearl ring. *No, please dent
fall in love with it,” she added, quickly
covering it with one hand, and as Myra
looked up with an expression she could
not hide, her aunt laid a beautiful little
camera on the other knee.
“This' was for Susie,” said Aunt
Myra slowly, looking into the young
face before her. “But,” she added,
stili more slowly, “everybody in the
house is going to want to borrow this,
and no one, even in this house, 1 think,
is likely to borrow a pearl ring.”
There was a moment's pause: then
Myra shut the little case with a heroic
gulp.
“I understand. Give it to Susie, Aunt
Myra; she deserves it.”
“Yes, I think she does. Dut this »
She laid a finger on the camera.
“I don’t deserve that or anything
else,” said Myra.
“It might, however, be made a means
of grace, not to say discipline,” and
for the first time Aunt Myra’'s .eyes
twinkled a little. “Every one will want
to borrow it. Tis nickel will be
scratched and its leather rubbed. 1
can’t think of a more poignant {trial
for—" But at this point her words
were smothered by two young arms
thrown about her neck. while a voice
between laughter and tears pleaded:
“Don’t, Aunt Myra! Don't say an-
other word, please. If you are good
enough to give me that camera—and
I'd truly almost as soon have it as the
ring—I'll make it the most popular
thing in the family. You'll sce! Susie
won’t be in demand, after this, at all.”
t she
lied
that
“Well, I think it is high time t
was out of demand for a little,” 1
Aunt Myra, with emphasis, “and
the poor child had somcthing—besides
soul—to call her shall
have the ring; and you, my dear, enter
without delay upon your course of mar-
tyrdom.” With a merry iaugh, but a
glance of deep. meaning, she Iaid the
camera in her nlece’s arms.—Youdl's
Companion.
it a
her owl. She
WHEN SHOES ARE DAMP.
A Quart of Clean Oats Will Kecp Thicm
in Good Condition.
Much advice is given f time to
time 'in regard to the’ eare of the
youngsters’ shoes us they come in from
school, wet and missiiapen from c¢o-
tact with wet pavements and the un-
confessed wading in puddies, which
is sure to delizht the bk of the small
boy. But with all inis
keeping the children’s shoos
condition, those.belonging to the «¢
people are usually allowed to take care
of themselvas, ‘though thiey may be of
cven greater importarce and quite as
often damp.
Few people give proper care to their
shoes. They come in damp, tired. cold
perhaps, and possibly not in the best
of tempers, fling their shees off impa-
tiently, get into slippers as quickly as
possible, and sit down to rest, forget-
ting that their shoes wiil be in scarcely
wearable condition by tlie next morn-
inc,
If every one would invest in a guar
or two of good clean oats. and keep
them in a bag in the dressing-rcom,
they would have at hand the means of
putting their shoes in good ecndilion
with very little trouble aad iess cost.
As soon as the shoes are taken off
lace or button them up. and fill them
about two-thirds full of oats, shake
them down well, then tie in a hand-
kerchjef a parcel of oats as large as
can be pressed iuto the top of the shoes
to fill the remaining space and put the
shoes away until' wanted. 'The oats
absorb the moisture in the shoes, aud
in absorbing it the oats swell ¢onsia-
erably, and the constant pressure on
the leather keeps the shoe in co
shape and prevents that uncomiort-
able stifiness and rigidity always no-
ticed when leather has Leen wet. A
little trouble and care of this sort will
save many a pair of shoes, and in all
probability will save many a corn from
being formed by the pressure of shoss
hardened from dampness,
2s in
ct
Had Feathered His Nest,
"hie by which
perity is measured is not always the
same. But it docs ust so mnelh mat-
ter what standard is used so lon
it shows accurately the amount of gain
or loss,
“I remember Bill Gassett as a
less young mne’er-do-well.” said a
mer neighbor of Mr. Sands, revi
his old home after many years’ ab-
sence, “but I hear he left his widow
quite a substantial property. IIow id
he manage it?” ¢
“He made choice of an exce
and she took him as the smartest
women often take the poorest
mens of the men-foll:s.” =aid Mr.
Sands, thoughtfully, “and wial{'s more,
she made something of him, put some
gimp into him, and what all. Why,
sir, when he marseied her all he had for
a mattress was an old. makeshift
stuffed with dried leaves; and wien he
died he had no less'n three mattresses
stuffed with Ilive-goose feathers. I
guess that tells the story.”—Youth's
Companion.
worldly
prose
syle
id Wail
Oc]
speci
Which One?
Representative Lacey's home {own
at Oskaloosa once furnished a consul
to Rome. The honor was appreciated,
but the functions of S. H. M. Byers,
the beneficiary, wera variously inter-
preted by the local folk.
“A stranger arrived in town one
day,” said Mr. Lacey, ‘locking for By-
ers’ residence. He inquired the way
from a pedestrian, something of a char-
acter in Oskaloosa.
“ ‘Which Byers do you want? re-
turned this Oskaloosan. ‘Is it 0ld man
Byers, or his son, who was emperor at
ome & few years? ”—Washington
Post,
AMERICAN PRESS FREE.
None in the World So Far Removed From
Venality.
The twenty-fifth anniversary of the
founding of the Chicago Press Club
was celebrated with a banquet in the
clubrooms., In after dinner speeches
statesmen and authors of national rep-
utation, invited guests and newspaper
men praised the power and influence
of the American press in the highest
terms. The principal speakers of the
evening were Colonel George Harvey,
of New York, and Governor Albert E.
Cummins, of Towa. Iwo hundred and
forty members of the club, with their
zuests, were present. ITomer J. Carr,
president, was toastmaster. Colonel
Harvey, in responding to the toast,
“The Freedom of the Press,” said:
There is no pres: in the world com-
parable to that of America in freedom
from influence, political or social. from
venality. from contamination of any
kind whatsoever. In France, a news-
paper's opinions are a matter of francs;
in England, tco often of titles: in Ger-
many, Austria and Spain, of imperial
favor; in Russia, of absolute censor-
ship. In America, thanks to the main-
tenance of the sturdy traditions estab-
lished by the Greeleys, Raymonds,
Danas, Bennetts, Medills and Bowleses
of the past, the fundamental integrity
of the press cannot be impugned. Itis
faultful, but it is free, We have our
sadly exaggerated headiines, on week
days, and our nonstrosities on Sun-
days; we have amazing productions of
no less amazing *art;’ we have ccl-
umns and columns of crime, and pages
and pages of waste. I'inally. not least at
any rate. in numbers. we have our red
and white papers, sometimes referred
to as “yellow journals.”
Personally. I should be of the last to
defend or make apology for this latest
manifestation of commercialism, mis-
directed ambition and false doctrines
in the American press. But, however
seriously we may rexzret and resent the
ebullition, we cannot ignore the irre-
sistible conclusion that this particular
channel, and this alone, affords a vent
for unexpressed beliefs and suspicions
which can be dissipated only by the
ciear rays of reason following any form
cf expression.
As contrasted with our own country,
Russia to-day stands forth a vivid ex-
ample of the effect of suppressed opin-
jon. Discontent would better burn
than smoulder. The continuous hissing
of offensive gases escaping is not pleas-
ant, but it is infinitely preferable to
otherwise inevitable explosion. Yet
more imporant, more vital to the per-
manence of a governinent of a whole
people by themselves, is absolute free-
aom of expression. Upon that all de-
pends, Restrict it, or create the im-
pression in suspicious minds that it is
being restricted, and you sow the wind.
With this general dictum few if any
would have the hardihood to disagree.
ut it is often, and 1 regret to say
often truly, urged that liberty is sub-
verted to license. Freedom of speech,
freedom of publicity, yes: ail admit the
wisdom and necessity of preserving
both. But how frequently is added,
especially by men in public ofice, a
vigorous declamation against ‘unfair
criticism,” and how almost daily is
uttered, sometimes a violent and un-
warranted, sometimes a dignified and
justifiable. protest against “invasion of
privacy,” “encroachment upon personal
rights” and like offenses.
Only those behind the curtain of the
cditorial sanctum can fully appraciate
the proportion of insincerity contained
in the virtuous avowals of shy and re-
tiring, though weak and human beings
of both sexes. In nine cases out of ten,
the most vociferous protest may be at-
tributed safely to self-sufficiency,
snobbishness or a guilty conscience.
Thera is so little of malice in American
newspapers as to be unworthy of no-
vice, but it unquestionably true that too
litiis Qieed is paid {o the fact that un-
wilful misrepresentation is often quite
ax serious in effect.
Worst of all is the refusal to rectify
a known error, Cursed be the man
wlio initiated the policy of never mak-
ing a redraction in the columns of Lis
journal! The mere fact that an indi-
vidual, whether right or wrong, isvirtu-
ally voiceless and helpless in contro-
versy with a newspaper, should and
aoes raorally vest him with the right to
cxceptional consideration. A lie once
staried can never be stopped, but the
one responsible for its circulation, di-
rectly or indirectly; who fails to exert
every possible endeavor to that and is
unworthy of association with decent
men, An American newspaper should
Le an American gentle
To see the right is genius: to do it iz
courage. Unite the two under the han-
ner of sane idealism, and the most po-
{ force in the cause of prog
ahtenment and good will lie
free press of America.
1
———————————
Sweaters For Dogs.
Dog sweaters are the “latest thing”
in canine clothes. They are not the
old-fashioned blankets, made in the
many different styles of the past dozen
Years, but knit sweaters, made with
as much care, apparently, as those the
athletic girl wears while skating on
the park lakes.
jut these sweaters are just now in-
tended for the dog that goes riding
with his misiress in an automobile.
For this purpose the aforesaid mistress
discovered that the blanket, no matter
how tightly it fitted ‘“‘dear Fido,” was
not sufficient to keep him warm in the
cold air that whizzes past the occu-
pants of an automobile as they dash
along the Lancaster pike. So she had
the sweater knit for him, and the gues-
tion of how the dog was to be kept
warm was solved. ;
Only a few of the new kind of “dog
clothes” have been made as yet, but,
as one fair automobilist expressed it,
“the fashion is growing.”—Philadelphia
Press.
KEYSTONE STATE COLLINGS
REVER GAVE UP HOPE.
Husband Had Been Missing for 60
Years—Wife Dies from Burns,
Her Clothes Igniting.
Mrs. Catherine Sailor Brown, died
at her home in Nicholson township,
near Uniontown, as the result of
her clothing catching fire from an
open grate last week. Her husband,
Andrew Brown, disappeared over 60
years ago. He was a stock dealer,
and started from home for Baltimore,
but never returned. His wife never
gave up the hope that at some time
she would hear from him.
An assault, which may end in mur-
der, was made on Thomas Kotler, a
butcher, of Millsboro. While on his
way to West Brownsville, Kotler was
accosted by two foreigners who beat
him into insensibility and robbed him
of about $80, taking his books and
private papers also. Kotler was
found a short time afterward and
medical aid was summoned, but his
recovery is doubtful. One of the
assailants was captured in West
Brownsville, and is being held for a
hearing, but the other robber has
not been apprehended.
When the Pennsylvania Railroad
Company changed its line to extend
its four-track system into Pittsburg,
the course of Brush creek at Larimer
was diverted. Farmers and others
whose properties are situated along
the old fill claim that the water over-
flows their land, damaging land, crops
and buildings. Numerous suits have
been brought, and it is said more are
to follow. Two have just been filed
by George and Robert West of Lar-
imer, who claim $2,600 damages. 5
With his arm torn off to the
shoulder Thomas Divers, an engineer
at the Hamilton Bottle works, at But-
ler, walked to the offices of the works,
refused to take an anaesthetic while
an amputation was being made, and
did not lose consciousness nor flinch.
The accident was caused by his sleeve
becoming entangled in the belt and
shaft of a blower which he was oiling.
Antonio Guardino, on trial at Hunt-
ingdon for the killing of Barnado Tet-
toxto, was convicted of murder in the
second degree. The two men worketl
in the coal mines at Robertsdale.
Guardino has acc: Tettoxto of
having killed a fri
in Italy. He laid in wait for Tettox-
to and shot him.
Thomas R. Dodd of Suterville, a
flagman on the Baltimore & Ohio rail-
road, fell from his train at Demmler
and was killed. The day before his
death he told his parents that he had
dreamed he would be killed, and di-
rected that his gold watch be given to
a younger brother. Dodd was 23
vears old and single.
John R. Carothers of Uniontowsa,
has bought the Hughes Deffenbaugh
farm, nedr McClellandtown, the con-
sideration being about $75,000. This
includes about 100 acres of surface
and 50 acres of coal. Coke ovens will
be erected and the work of develop-
ing will begin in the early spring.
Frank P. Ray, member of the Legis-
lature from Crawford county, was
taken to the City hospital at Mead-
ville, when Dr. Hamaker amputated
his right leg above the knee. Mr.
Ray is suffering from heart trouble,
and, circulation having ceased in the
leg, gangrene was threatened.
Superintendent Amos E. Gillespie,
of the Scottdale furnace, announced a
voluntary increase in wages of 10
cents a day for employes. The Scott-
dale furnace is operated by Corrigan,
McKinney & Co., of Cleveland and
employs 400 men. The new wage
rate is to go into effect in March.
The deal by which the Westmore-
land Coal Company secures the hold-
ings of the Penn Gas Coal Company
gives the purchasing company all of
the Pittsburg vein of gas coal in this
field. The output the coming year
will exceed 3,000,000 tons, and 3,000
men will be employed.
The New York and Cleveland Gas
Coal Company has made arrangements
‘to open several mines on the Ringer
farm, along the proposed extension
of the Turtle Creek Valley railroad.
When the mines are opened the rail-
road will be extended to one-half mile
west of Delmont.
The Shenango Traction company
was refused a franchise by the Shar-
on council, and Burgess Blaney, of
Sharpsville, vetoed the ordinance
granting the Shenango company the
right to lay its tracks on the princi-
pal streets of Sharpsville.
Hugh Jones of Sharon, who a year
ago was struck by a street car here
and suffered a broken neck from which
he finally recovered, has brought suit
against the Mahoning Valley Railroad
Company for $50,000 damages.
In the competitive six-day sparrow
hunt in Amwell township, Wast
ton county, last week, 29,099
were killed, according to the oficial
count. Two teams cf 10 men each en-
gaged in the hunt.
The Fibrous Cecrk Insole Company,
of Lockport, N. Y., has made arrange-
ments to remove its plant to New Cas-
tle. Two hundred operators will be
employed. the greater number of
"whom will be girls.
Michael Proakes, a track-walker
employed by the Pennsylvania rail-
road, was killed by a train, wear
Franklin, Pa.
The Seventh Ward Presbyterian
Church at New Castle, has accepted
the offer of Andrew Carnegie to pay
half the cost of a $2,000 pipe organ.
Michael Sturgis, 40 years old, was
caught in a conveyor at the American
Steel and Wire company’s plant at
South Sharon, and crushed te death.
Fireman Shroyer, of Oil .ity, was
killed in a freight wreck on the low
grade division of the Pennsylvania
Railroad, near Oak Ridge.
Ralph Whittaker, 11 years old, was
probably fatally injured in a coasting
accident at New Castle His sku¥%
was fractured.
i SN
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