/ ig Sb nA A a SoA Rs A hans Sain « — A i EY ® ® . on Caroline —————— BY SUSAN KEATING GLASPELL. a ELL, if girls f Y meanest!” 2 © His sister dried her eyes RN and looked up. “But not all girls, Will, and perhaps these girls don't——" “Oh, that's right, stand up for ’em, after they've treated you like dirt all summer! For downright meanness and hatefulness give me a lot of girls. Why, a crowd of fellows would no more act the way this crowd of girls has done than—than » And he stopped hopelessly, as if the thing was beyond comparison. “Well, of course, boys are different.” “Yes, they are! When a fellow who seems to be the right sort moves into a town, do the fellows of that town Jet him alone—snub him for three straight months? Don’t you think it! They give him a show—they're civil to him, and if he turns out to be of their kind, then he’s one of the crowd, and that's all there is to it.” “Well, that does seem to be the fair way. And I don't know—I don’t know ‘what it is I've done. I haven't done anything; you see, I haven't had a chance. 1 suppose’—Caroline’s lips were quivering again—'that they just don’t like my looks.” “Nonsense! Why shouldn't they like your looks? It’s just their meanness.” “Will! Will!” There was a note of tragic excitement in his sister's voice. “There they come now—turning the corner. They go past nearly every day. They have picnics and—and things.” Will seated himself on the railing of the veranda and looked hard at the five laughing girls who were coming toward the house in an old-fashioned carryall. “Don’t seem too interested, Will Don’'t—don’t look at them like that.” “Why can’t I look at them?’ he re- torted, savagely. “Guess if I want to Jook at them there's nothing to prevent it. They're not so much to look at, anyway.” The *“‘crowd” of girls drove by with not a glance toward the big house, on the veranda of which Will and Caro- line Stuart were sitting. “They do have awfully good times,” gaid Caroline, wistfully, “and they seem awfully fond of one another.” “I guess I'll go up and write some let- ters,” she said, a few minutes later. “I like to keep .my letters written up, because—well, you can see that it’s been pleasant to get them since I’ve been here.” Her brother looked after her darkly. “Poor Cal! She never did a mean thing in her life. Why any one should want to snub her is too much for me. “O mother,” he called, as a pleasant- faced woman came round the house, “can’t you come here a minute? I want to talk to you.” She took the chair he offered her. “It does seem good to have you home, Will, and I'm more glad for Caroline's sake than for my own. She has had a pretty hard summer of it.” “That’s what I want to get at. What under the sun’s the matter? What do those girls mean by lining up against Cal?” His mother shook her head and raised her hands hopelessly. “Will, girls are queer,” she said. “I can’t understand it. Why, if they’d let Cal be one of them, they'd find ‘her the Jjolliest and best of the lot. When she first came here in the spring she saw right away that they were the ones she would like to know, and she was 80 pleased to think that there would be nice girls for her to have a good time with. The first night we sat here on the porch they went by laughing and talking, and Cal looked after them for- Jornly, and I remember I said to her, ‘Never mind, Cal, you'll be one of them in a week,’ and she said she supposed of course they'd call—or do something, but they didn’t, and that’s all there is to it. They simply act as if Cal wasn’t in town.” “Well, of all the mean, contemptible, petty—" And then words failed him. “In addition to everything else,” said the boy, after a few minutes of silent fuming, “these five estimable young jadies are acting pretty silly in snub- bing Caroline. Cal could give those girls all sorts of a good time, and she would love to do it.” “Of course she would. When she saw how big the house was, she said to me first thing, ‘Isn't it lovely, mother? We can have people here all the time.’ And your father bought that automobile for no other reason in the world except that he thought it would be pleasant for Cal to take peo- ple out in ”’ “Well, mother,” said Will, quietly, “it’s just a clear case of snub, isn’t it?” Perhaps the whole thing would not have happened if just the week be- fore the Stuarts moved to Elmwood Marion Foreman had not read a story about some people who were ‘‘vulgarly rich.” No one in Elmwood was “vul- garly rich,” and as Marion’s imagina- tion was such that she was bound to fix the phrase on some one, it descend- ed upon the people who were expected in a few days to move into the big house. That night she asked her father all about the new family. “Why, really, Marion,” he said, after she had put a half-dozen questivns to him in rapid succession, “I can’t ac- count for this sudden interest of yours. I can’t say that I know a great deal about the Stuarts. The man, so I am gold, made a great deal of money last l or aren't “the l when the little crowd of five girls was making fudge at Kitty Benton's, she told them all about it, half-unconscious- ly attributing to the unfortunate Stu- arts the qualities possessed by the peo- ple in the story. “There is a girl,” she informed them, “and I think she is about our age. I suppose she will attempt to buy her way into our crowd. She will wear better dresses than any of the rest of us, and she will think that just because she has more money than we have that it is her place to lord it over us. Now, we must show her that the old fam- ilies of this town are not going to sue- cumb to mere wealth. We must be quite oblivious to her guady display. It is fortunate we understand the situ- ation before gle comes, for now she will be given mo opportunity to hu- miliate us.” All of this made a deep impression upon the four other girls. Marion, be- cause she was the most imaginative of the crowd, had become in a sense its leader. She had a peculiar, quick way of assimilating the things she read, and that made her companions feel that Marion had attained to a very deep understanding of life. The first day Caroline Stuart walked down the main street of Elmwood, they felt their suspicion that she would attempt to “lord it over them” to be confirmed. Her gown bore the marks of a city dressmaker, and she walked very straight and carried her head very high. That was partly because she had been taught to do so at school, and in part because, feeling timid with so many strange eyes upon her, she sought refuge in dignity. Her impulse was to look with friendly interest at the five girls as she passed them, but feeling shy, she looked straight ahead instead. “Well, Marion. “It is evident that she feels miles above us!” sputtered Kitty Benton. “We will not trouble her,” comment- ed Doris Morton, with dignity. “I's just as I told you,” insisted Marion. “Now the only thing to do is to let her absolutely alone.” They did. When she passed them upon the street they were deeply ab- sorbed in one another. They studied the art of passing her house without knowing it was there. When she be- gan driving in her pretty pony-cart of all the airs!” gasped The strange part of it all is that they were in truth kindly girls, and would have felt very badly indeed at the idea of hurting any one’s feelings. Their attitude had grown upon them to such an extent that with the coming of the big red, automobile, the first to be seen in Elmwood, the ignoring of Caro- line Stuart had become a duty. Perhaps few girls of her age have ever passed as unhappy a summer as Caroline Stuart passed that year. Of a warm-hearted, sunny nature, she was a girl to whom friends were a neces- sity. She was so free from any idea of distinctions created by money that the secret of the thing never dawned upon her. / She supposed, on the other hand, that the girls did not like her. It was a beautiful day in September, and her young, naturally buoyant heart made her wish to get outdoors and be doing something, even if she must do it by herself. Will and her father had gone in the automobile to an adjoining town, and her mother was lying down with a headache. So she started out alone to drive up the winding river road which skirted the edge of the woods. The country round Elmwood was very beautiful, and Caroline threw herself into the spirit of the day, tell- ing herself that some time, in some other place, she would find friends to enjoy the world with her, and that meanwhile she would try to enjoy it by herself. She was succeeding in getting more pleasure out of the drive than had been hers for a long time, when sud- denly she heard laughing voices, and peering through the trees, saw the five girls into whose friendship she had at one time supposed she would be taken. They were spreading a cloth upon the grass and opening some parcels. She watched them through dimmed eyes until they sat down and began to eat. Then, when she could bear it no longer, she whipped up her pony and started briskly up the road. The day had lost its charm, She did not see the woods and the river and the soft sky. She knew only that the world seemed a hard, lonesome place, and that her heart was yearning for friends and companionship, for the kind of fun those girls were having, It was very near the same spot that upon her return, a haif-hour later, she saw Marion Foreman and one of the other girls helping Kitty Benton down to the river. It was evident that some- year in the oil country. He is coming here te live because he has some in- terests near here, and then I dare say he thinks it will be a pleasant place for his family. I think I heard some one say that there was a young girl and a boy. I believe they are very nice, sensible people.” “They are vulgarly rich,” commented Marion. “They are newly rich,” corrected her father, resuming his paper. But in the story the newly rich people had also been vulgarly rich, and Marion refused to separate the ideas in her mind. The next afternoon, they regarded it as a personal affront. “differently. thing had befallen her, for she was hopping on one foot, and moving as it it pained her. Caroline guessed at once that the girl had sprained her ankle, and that they were helping her to the big, fiat rock close to the river. They did not notice her until she was near them, so near that she heard Marion call to the girl behind, “Of course this had to happen the very day we walked instead of drove!” and then they glanced up and saw her, and looked with studied care out at the river. Caroline drove by, her heart beating very fast. Every instinct prompted her to offer to drive Kitty Benton back to town. But would they accept the offer? Would they not think she was trying *o intrude, and tell her in so many words that they did not care to have anything to do with her? Of course they would, and she would not go back. But the idea of leaving any one in trouble when it was within her power to offer help came over her as too dreadful to be considered, and she wheeled the pony sharply round. “I beg your pardon,” she said—her effort to keep her voice steady made it sound very cold—but I believe you have hurt your foot. If you care to have me drive you back to town I shali be glad to do so.” “Thank you,” said Xitty Benton, shortly, “but I think we can get along all right.” Caroline turned her pony and drove quickly down the road. “Maybe it seemed mean,” said one of the girls, as they stood watching the pony-cart. “Nothing of the kind!” declared Mar- ion. “Did you notice how she did it? Why, she never so much as looked at us! Just looked straight beyond us, as if she were talking tc—to servants!” Marion and Doris Morton were ap- pointed to go into town to get a buggy for Kitty. They had gone about half a mile when, making a sudden turn, they came upon the pony-cart tied to a tree. They saw that it was empty, and just as they were about to pass on they heard a strange sound. They looked at each other queerly, and then they heard the sound again, a deep, long sob that went straight down into their hearts. “She’s crying,” “crying dreadfully.” Marion looked uncertainly down the road, and then took a few noiseless steps in among the trees. Under a big tree, her face buried in the moss, lay Caroline Stuart, her pretty blue dress much crumpled, her whole body shaken with sobs. ; Then the real girl in Marion Fore- man, the real, true girl that was there in spite of all her foolish notions, swept away all else. Running quickly to the sobbing girl, she sat down beside her, and put her arms round the shak- ing figure. ‘Is there anything we can do? Is there anything at all? We just can’t bear to see you cry like this! Isn't there something we can do?” Caroline's grief was too deep to admil of surprise. “I'm lonesome,” she sobbed out, “so lonesome! I can’t bear it! I can’t! I can’t stand it to have you all treat me like this! I want friends! I—oh, I want to go to your picnics!” “But—but we thought you were sa rich!” stammered Marion. “Your house is so big, and the pony-cart and the automobile and—and we thought—" Caroline sat up then, amazement checking the sobs. “Well, what has that got to do with it?” “Why—why, you see, we thought that you were—O dear, I don’t know: Maybe we've been all wrong. I—I'm sorry.” “Do you mean,” began Caroline, very slowly, “that there isn’t anything id particular the matter with me, that you don’t hate me, and that you actually thought that I didn’t want to have anything to do with you?’ But Marion, covered with confusion, was crying herself now, which was perhaps the best thing that could have happened, for they put their arms around ore another and cried together, Any one who knows much about girl nature can tell the rest of the story. Of course Caroline went back for Kitty, and then there were more ex- planations and more tears, and every- body agreed that the whole thing had been too silly for words. Each girl confessed that down in her heart sh had wanted Caroline as a friend for ¢ long time, but hal not known just how to say anything about it to the others: Will Stuart was disposed to think his sister should refuse to have any. thing to do with girls who were sd silly, as that, but his mother saw it “Just see how happy she is, Will, just see how she’s changed and. don’t say one word against those girls. I tell you, every time I hear Cal’s laugh ring through the house I give thanks for joy.” At the end of the first week Marion Foreman told the story to her father— it was truly remarkable that she had kept it as long as that. He talked to whispered Doris, her very seriously about how wrong! she had been, and she received the lec- i ture with considerable humility. “Caroline is the finest girl I ever knew,” she assured him. “It comes | natural for her to do kind things for ! people. . I suppose,” she added, after! a moment of reflection, “this instance’ goes to prove that rich people are not always as black as they are painted.” | “My dear - daughter,” said Judge Foreman, “you will find as you go through life that it isn’t money or the lack of it that males the man or woman. It is the. heart that is with- in.”—Youth’s Companion. Art is Long. Perhaps the reason short calls are fashionable is that the caller who stays less than fifteen minutes is not expected to ask the daughter to play on the piano.—Atchison Globe. In India people believe that eled phants have a religion and a god. "THE PUL®PIT. A SCHOLARLY SUNDAY SERMON BY REV. DAVID J. BURRELL, B- D. Subject: A King in the Pillory. New York City.—“A King in the Pil- lory” was the subject of a strong ser- mon preached by the Rev. David James Burrell, D. D., LL. D., Sunday in the Marble Collegiate Church, Fifth ave- nue. The text was from I Xings xii:2: “And it came to pass when Jercboam, the son of Nebat, heard of it (for he was in Egypt), that they sent and called him.” Dr. Burrell said: In reading the chroniclesof the Kings of Israel we come upon the name of Jeroboam, and it is almost always men- ‘| tioned in these terms, ‘“Jeroboam, the son of Nebat, who made Israel to sin.” This is repeated no less than eighteen times with weary reiteration. Jero- boam has stood in the pillory three thousand years, with that placard over him. Why is he thus branded and dis- honored? At the time of our context he was living in Egypt. He did not belong there. He was a Jew; a widow's son, distinguished as a civil engineer. He had begun at the foot of the ladder, lending a hand with pick and shovel in the repairing of the fortifications of Milo. The eyes of King Solomon fell upon the tall, Dbroad-shouldered youth and, admiring his industry and cleverness, he promoted him step by step until he was made superintendent of public works, and placed in charge of thirty thousand men. His ambition grew with his advancement; and thus, at length, temptation overcame him. He was like many others of whom we say, “They cannot bear prosperity.” At this time in Israel there was much dis- content, owing to royal luxury and ex- travagance, and to excessive taxes and governmental impositions. The young engineer was approached by the mal- contents, and became involved in a con- spiracy. Solomon got wind of it, the conspiracy collapsed, and Jeroboam fled to Egypt, where hie was now living in impatient exile. At the death of Solomon the smolder- ing fire burst into a flame. His son Rehoboam refused to listen to the complaints of the people, saying: “My father chastised you with whips, but I will chastise you with scorpions.” The ten tribes assembled and resolved on secession. The cry was raised: “To your tents, O Israel!” And we should be the last to find fault with them, since the state of affairs was much what it was when our forefathers came together in Independence Hall, and drew up a notable protest beginning, “When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another,” ete. When the question arose as to who should be the leader of the ten tribes all eyes turned to Egypt; and Jeroboam was sent for. He had longed for that message, and hastened to answer it. He was prob- ably not more than a fortnight on the way. The Israelites had consumed forty years in the same journey, when they came up “out of the house of their bondage;” but Jeroboam’s feet were winged with ambition as theirs were not. What dreams and visions stimulated him! The crown beckoned him! He met the assembled people at Schechem and was formally inaugu- rated. “God save the King!” The hopes of the ambitious youth were real- ized at last. What an opportunity was now before him! What an outlook, if only he would reign in the fear of God. But, alas, he began in the wrong way. Thinking only of personal ad- vancement, he left God out of ‘the reckoning. That was a desperate blun- der. His reign of two and twenty years is briefly summed up in three sins; all of them due to what Spenser calls *‘the sacred hunger of an ambi- tious minde.” His first sin was against God, in setting up the golden calves. From the standpoint of a godless king this was good policy. He reasoned thus: “The Jaw requires that the people shall go to Jerusalem to attend the three annual festivals. If they do this, however, it is only a question of time when they return to their former allegiance. We must, therefore, have our own centres of worship; and where better than at Dan in the north and Bethel in the south, both consecrated by sacred asso- ciations. As we cannot have the ark of the covenant, we must devise some other visible symbols of the presence of God. And what better than two golden calves, with faces like those of the mystical figures over the ark?” The shrines were dedicated accord- ingly and the royal proclamation went forth, “These be your gods, O. Israel!” From the standpoint of mere state- craft this may have been “good pol- icy;’ but it was bad religion. Any form of idolatry is offensive to God. It is not necessary to set up a golden calf. We may make an idol out of wealth or pleasure or honor. We may frame an idol out of our imagination. All gods are false, except the One who has revealed Himself in His word as the true God. And anything is an idol which is served or honored more than we serve or honor Him. The second sin of Jeroboam was against himself. He was warned twice, but refused to heed it. On one occasion, as he stood beside the altar presuming to burn incense there, an unknown and unnamed prophet stood beside him crying, “O altar, altar! thus saith the Lord: A child shall be born who shall destroy the priests of the high places and burn men’s bones upen thee!” And when Jeroboam stretched forth his hand and cried, “Lay hold upon him!’ his hand was palsied, so that he must needs entreat the Lord to restore it. On another occasion his son, the heir- apparent, being desperately iil, the , king, knowing the futility of praying to the golden calves, sent his wife in disguise to the prophet at Shiloh. As she approached the prophet’s door he cried, ‘Come in, thou wife of Jero- boam! Why feignest thou thyself to be another? I have heavy tidings for thee. Go tell Jeroboam, Thou hast done evil; therefore, I will bring evil upon thy house, for the Lord hath spoken it!” All warnings were lost upon this man. God did the best He could for for him, as He does for every inveter- ate sinner. He warns, promises, en- ‘accomplished it. treats in vain. He sends blessings ine numerable, then chastisements, sorrow, adversity to no purpose. Like Jero- boam, being wedded to his sins, they “run upon the bosses of the shield of God.” : The third sin of this man was against the people. His influence was like the upas tree; and they sat under it. He “made Israel to sin.” He issued a proclamation requiring them to bow at the idolatrous shrines: and during all the subsequent history of the ten tribes his baneful shadow was over them. They had fourteen kings. before they were led away into exile, and there was not a godly man among them. One after another they took their places in the pillory beside him, being characterized on this wise, “Who followed in the steps of Jeroboam, the son of Nebat, who made Israel to sin.” But why do we have the record of these sins? Would it not have been kinder to pass over them in silence? In the Assembly Hall of the Military Academy at West Point you may see the portraits of the various captains who have commanded there. One place, however, is left blank; it is the place that should have been occupied by Ben- edict Arnold, the traitor. The picture of Jeroboam might in like manner have been turned to the wall, but for the fact that the reiteration of his sin car- ries a great lesson with it. namely, the perpetuity of influence. ‘No man liv- eth unto himself and no man dieth unto himself.” There are three kinds of in- fluence which every man exerts; and we may wisely consider them. The first is voluntary. The sins of Jeroboam were not inadvertant; he meant to have the people worship the golden calves. He did wrong deliber- ately. ‘here are others who do like- wise; thieves, rum sellers. dive keep- ers, managers of Sunday theatres, pur- veyors of unclean literature and au- thors of infidel books; these do evil with malice aforethought. Not content with ruining themselves, they plan to ruin others. To all such the word of the Master applies: “It must needs be that offenses come; but woe to that man by whom the offense cometh. It were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.” But there are multitudes who do good and intend to do it. The world is full of them; teachers of truth, “sisters of mercy,” life savers and philanthropists; who speak the seasonable word “which is like apples of gold in baskets of silver,” and who eagerly stretch forth the helping hand. To such the word of the Master applies, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, ye have done it unto Me.” The second kind of influence is auto- matic. And this is by far the largest force in life. For influence does not wait to be exerted, it exerts itself whether we will or not. I used to go fishing for trout in a clear stream among the Pocono Hills; but when I was last there the waters were dull and dark, and my errand was vain. The man who had built a paper mill up above did not mean to kill the fish; nevertheless, the refuse had effectually John Mills, who translated Chambers Encyclopedia into French in 1743. was moved by nothing worse than the thought of personal gain. But when, with that end in view, he enlisted the services of Vol- taire, Rousseau, Diderot and others of that infidel group, he set in operation forces which fifty years later brought on the Reign of Terror. It is thus that men do evil without intending it. The third kind of influence is pes- thumous. A man who had lived an evil life said on his deathbed, “I wish you could gather up my influence and bury it with me.” Alas! that could not be. His body might lie in the sepul- cher and his name be forgotten, but “the evil a man does lives after him.” Of all the things that followed Jero- boam not one was so alive as Jero- boam himself, though he had been “gathered unto his fathers;” for through Nadab and Baasha and Ela and Zimri and the others he was still “making Israel to sin.” And the influence of right-living men is likewise immortal; ‘they do rest from their labors, but their works do follow them.” The odor of the spike- nard, with which an unknown woman once anointed the feet of Jesus, has come down through the centuries, her deed being told “as a memorial of her.” So the dead are really the living. We are guided by the memory of those whom we have “loved and lost awhile.” - Goodness is “proof against the tooth of time and the raisure of oblivion.” If a fixed star were to be extinguished in the distant heavens, it would be a million years before the people of this world would discover it —its light would still be shining on—, So when a good man dies, For years beyond our ken The light he leaves behind him lies Upon the paths of men. The lesson is plain. Let us look to our influence! But how? The secret of doing good is being good. Can men gather grapes of thorns or figs of thistles? “A good man out of the treasure of his heart bringeth forth good fruit.” Our influence is never better than our character, and charac- ter has its seat and centre in the heart. If we would set ourselves right in the matter, the first thing to do is to come to Christ, that we may rid ourselves of sin; and all the rest is following Him— that is, tc believe His teaching, to do His work and to be like Him. Light cannot help shining. It sounds no trumpets, waves no banners, makes no announcement of its coming, but just comes. ‘‘Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and glorify, Ged.” O may TI join the choir invisible Of those immortal dead who live again In minds made better by their presence; ive In pulses stirred to generosity, In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn For miserable aims that end with self, In thoughts sublime that piece the night like stars, And with their mild persistence urge man’s search To vaster issues. The Bud and the Blossom. There is not such a great difference between grace and glory after all Grace is the bud and glory is the blos- som. Grace is glory begun, and glory is grace perfected. It will not come hard to people that are serving God down here to do it when they go up yonder. They will change places, but they won't change employments.—D. L, Moody. KEYSTONE STATE GULLINGS TO SECURE REDUCED RATE Committees Are Named—State Board of Trade Will Aid in Fight Against Railroads. The standing committees of the Pennsylvania state board of trade, which was organized at Harrisburg, to make a systematic campaign for the election of legislators pledged to a 2-cent flat passenger vote on the - railroads, were appointed by ex-May- or Vance C. McCormick of Harrisburg, president of the board. Following is a list of the standing committees: Constitution and by-laws: William H. Stevenson and W. A. Griffith, Pitts~ burgh; Wilmer Crow, Harrisburg; J. D. Wentz, Washington. Finances: William R. Brinton, Lancaster; Clarence E. Greesey, York; Joseph C. Smith, Harrisburg. Baggage and transportation: D. C. Shaw, Pitts- burgh; F. H. MacIntyre, Philadelphia; H. D. Burlingame, Altoona. Interur- ban railways: D. D. Harmon, Pitts- burgh; Representative William T. Creasy, Catawissa; A. M. Howes, Erie. The Capitol Dedication commission officially fixed October 4 next as the date for the dedication of the new State Capitol. President Theodore Roosevelt, and probably Mrs. Roose- velt, and the members of the Presi- dent’s cabinet and their wives will attend the exercises. A large grandstand will be erected at the en- trance to the Capitol for the dedica- tory exercises. In the evening it is probable a banquet will be served to which the President and other dig- nitaries will be invited. The com=- mission consists of Gov. S. W. Pen- nypacker, Speaker Henry F. Walton, Senator John C. Fox, of Dauphin; Senator W. C. Sproul, of Delaware, and members of the board of publie grounds and buildings. The Govern=- or will communicate with President Roosevelt regarding any suggestions he desires to make relative to the dedication. The central power house of the Venango Power & Traction Company in Oil City, controlling all the elec- tric lighting and street car systems of Oil City, Franklin and their su- burbs, was destroyed by fire, entail- ing a loss of $350,000, with insur- ance of $75,000. The flames origi- nated in the boiler room. The de- struction of the power house will cause a suspension of street car traffic in Venango county for at least three weeks. The officers of the com- pany expect to have street lights in operation in Franklin and Oil City within a week. In the meantime the streets and those business houses which are not equipped with private electrical plants will be in dark- ness. The reception to be extended the survivors of the famous Tenth Regi- ment volunteers, when they "hold their eight annual reunion at Do- nora on July 31, promises to be equal to any that has gone before. At the conference between the commit- tee representing the Veteran asso- ciation of the Tenth regiment and the citizens of Donora plans were dis- cussed whic if carried out will make the reunion a complete success. Very few, if any, of the operators in the Clearfield region have taken advantage of the offer extended by the miners at their reconvened con- vention permitting independent sign- ing of contract under the terms of the 1903 scale. When the conven- tion decided to allow independent ac- tion the delegates were of the opin- ion that 60 per cent. of the opera- tors would sign at once. Harold W. Carmichael, 16 years old, son of a wealthy contractor of Wellsburg, W. Va., was killed near Franklin by the explosion of a num- ber of percussion dynamite caps which he carried in his pocket. He and Frank McClaren, another lad, found the caps and Carmichael dis- charged one of them. The concus- sion set off those he carried in his pockets. George D. C. Miller and J. R. Dunham, watchmen at the Humbert tin plate mill, Connellsville, detected three men in the plant stripping the engines and machinery of brass and fired at them. About a dozen shots were exchanged, but the thieves es- caped. ‘While leaning out of an engine cab at Hickman Run, Fireman John F. Brooks’s head was caught between a freight car and the cab and was mashed to a pulp. Death was in- stantaneous. Brooks was 28 years old. His parents live in Georgia. Andrew Carnegie, in a letter re- ceived by Dr. J. F. Bucher offers to give $25,000 for the erection of a science hall for Waynesburg college, providing $50,000 additional endow- ment is raised. The college authori- ties expect to raise the required amount. The Pennsylvania railroad has ordered the employes of the mainten- ance of way department to work 10 hours a day instead of 9. This gives an additional] hour to about 12,000 men between Philadelphia and Pitts- burg. New Castle council ordered the city solicitor to file a bill in equity to compel the Bell Telephone company to use the new city conduit, which cost nearly $100,000. John Rugh, 83 years vld, was found dead at the gateway leading into his stable yard at his home in the Eighth ward, Greensburg. He is survived by two daughters and two sons, Misses Johanna and Amanda, at home, and Charles, a member of the Westmoreland bar, and Albert Rugh, of Greensburg. John Z. Murrin was killed and J. M. Thompson had a leg and arm broken by a falling tree at Murrins- ville, Butler county. The men stop- ped to watch the lumbermen fell trees. One tree, carried out of its course by the high wind, fell on Mur- rin and Thompson. Li w "a “| } 2] eis FIF Torn: A Belle thing is a ings perso jured -ing, Crem; Thi trave thing desir on th settle All storm them Engir “A, devas appre 15 sq in ths prope ritory were build: merc: lishm habit: “Ni ” wides 150,0( pract main trero, stock the d watei Hunt ofiice Fillm A by th At or ab by th accor ward, of th Foral The and ¢ thoriz favor: insur: contr; The comm Foral made kinds denti: for Ie senat repre. make to a of co $1,00( The sons INDI/ Depat WwW The struct interi oil le out oO land tees 1 Thi groun leases visior of thi der w taken was i - Gui cover the n ed fo again sold produ of St again the ( Comp The the A the I ed tk Unite Pitts date State ed b Burk: junio the n didat Best e
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers