THIS CITIZKIf, W'KDNKSDAY, MARCH 51.1, 1010.
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fa
POETRY WORTH ::
i
Lng Ago.
Whon nil tho drcnms of our life hnvo
vanished.
When love la banished
And hope has lied,
Wc turn away from the bleak to-morrow,
To walk with Sorrow
Among tho dead;
We look on civ more on tho loving
faces
And sunny places
We used to know;
And lose for a time our hurt and sad
ness Within the gladness
Of long ago.
Tlie days are long, and the days are
dreary;
Our hearts are weary
And In distress.
As through the blur of our tear-wet
lashes
We see the ashes
Of happiness,
From brooding over our lives left
lonely.
We seek the only
Kscape we know,
By going back to tho sweet affections
And recollections
Of long ago.
Our dreams of love and our golden
visions,
The fond ambitions ,
Of other years.
By stern decrees of the Real, broken.
Have left their token
Of unshed tears.
Without remorse are the fates that
sever,
Those hopes we never
Again may know;
Hut although lost, they renew their
glory
Within the story
Of long ago.
When love proves false and wc seem
forsaken.
Our spirits shaken
With sorrow sore.
There is one solace Time can't deny
us.
Which lingers by us.
For evermore.
Wo dream on our lips a soft mouth
presses
The sweet caresses
We used to know;
Our hearts yet rovel amid the pleas
ures And cherished treasures
Of long ago. .1. A. Edgcrtoa.
Memory Pictures.
Dark hickory boughs against blue per
fect sea;
Sharp-shapen fir-trees crowning
sombre rocks;
The cadence of wind-murmurs fresh
and free;
The merry sunlight on brown girl
ish locks;
The sounding of two tender voices
low;
And all so long ago!
A building of sweet castles in the air,
Frail as the dim, calm cloud o'er
distant seas;
Delicious idleness; carelessness of
care;
Fragments of song; unutterablo
Life's music all at soft pianissimo
And all so long ago!
A purple whorl of sunset In the West;
A great gold star through a wide
oriel seen;
Two Hilled hands upon a placid
breast;
A mute parte face inoffably serene;
A mourner kneeling In impassioned
woe;
And all so long agol
Edgar Fawcett.
A Friendly Old World.
It's a simple and childish old world,
And good, when its weakness you
learn;
It likes to be liked, moro than any
thing else.
And It's willing to like In return.
We've called It hard names for bo
long,
And told of Its faults without end,
That It's Just a bit hardened and
crusty on top,
I)ut It's glad to be friends to a
friend.
And, come to take stock of the world.
You've really no cause to stand off;
You're just like the rest of it. full of
the faults
At which it's so easy to scoff,
And you'll find, when you're lonesome
at times,
As along on life's Journey you
wend,
If you'll warm your own heart nnd
be good to the world,
It's glad to be friends to a friend.
Ripley D. 8aunders.
Invocation.
Waken, Master! Master,
8trlke thy sacred lyre;
Fill the world with muBic
And the heart with Are!
Lo! The west la waiting,
Free nnd rich and strong,
For thy vallaut coming
And thy mystic song.
Up, O mighty Master!
Make us one In heart
Followers of pleasure,
Worshippers of art,
Seekers after learning,
On right living bent,
Working for each other.
In the Valley ot Content.
Charles W. Stevenson.
MILLICENT'S LILY
OH, how beautiful they were
those Master lilies! The stor
window was full of them, and
not the window only, but the
counter, the shelves that sloped up tc
the walls nnd tho floor, so that you
were afraid to walk lest your sklrti
should brush against the radiant, per
fumed whiteness. Kverywheru yoL
saw tall stems crowned with the
pearly, glistening glory of llowers
whose perfume made you wnnt tc
breathe witli every part of you.
Mllllccnt stood outside nnd looked
till her dark eyes seemed to burn In
her little pale face. She was about
ten years old, and today was her llrst
holiday that Is to say, she had this
day for the llrst time been allowed to
go out minus the baby that she all but
incorporated into her being on othei
days while her mother went out scrub
blng. Today the baby bad been fret
ful nnd unhappy, and her mother had
been alarmed so alarmed that she
stayed at home with 1dm, which was
why Mllllccnt had wandered out alone.
".My, ain't them tine?" She was so
excited that she said the words aloud
"I wonder what 'em's called?"
She had not noticed the stopping ot
A carriage nor the descent from It of
a woman nnd a little girl. The little
girl was about her own nee.
"Are they not beautiful, dear?" said
the woman. "Yon would like one for
your room, wouldn't you. Milllcent?"
The ragged Mllllccnt started and
turned round. She looked up into the
lady's face.
"Was you was you speaking to
me?"
The words faltered from her lips.
Her face clouded sadly as the woman
stared nt her, apparently without see
ing bur, and walked into the store.
"She said 'Milllcent,'" the little wait
spoke again. "She said Mllllccnt!' "
The Milllcent more favored of for
tune looked at her curiously.
i "Little girl," she asked imperiously,
"is your name 'Milllcent?' "
"Course It's 'Milllcent.'" said the
child resentfully. "Why not?"
"It's my nnmo. too," said Milllcent
i Vnnderslyke.
' Milllcent O'Flaherty looked nt Milll
cent Vnnderslyke, and Milllcent Van-
"IS TOtJR NAME MIIiUCENT?"
derslyke looked at Milllcent O'Flaher
ty. . The llrst saw a child of wealth
and fortune, slim, graceful, beautiful,
clad In white serge, with a glint of sil
ver nt her wrist, a wave of plumes,
unowy, curling around her bat saw a
face, fair as the lilies so near It, light
ed by deep, sweet blue eyes.
The second saw a sturdy little form,
a round, freckled face, hair of a glo
rious red saw, too, a shabby woolen
frock patched with alien fabrics,
clumsy shoes, faded stockings, a dingy
straw hat gulltltss of trimmings.
Then Mrs. Vanderslyke came to the
door, "Milllcent, darling, come In!
Come in and choose your lily!"
And then Mrs. Vanderslyke was
greatly astonished, for her little daugh
ter stretched out her hand and clasped
the grimy lingers of her namesake,
tlrawlng her into the perfumed, llower
filled store.
"Oh, mamma, dear! She's a Milll
cent too! And she wants n lily too!"
Hut It was more than a Illy that
Milllcent O'Flaherty climbed into a
car with. It was more even than J he
little pocketbook, with Its green two
dollar bill and shining bits of silver,
for a aew Joy, a joy to be defined by
no words that she could say then,
though later she mny call it a sense nt
the "sisterhood of women," tilled her
childish heart. There were beautiful,
beautiful people In tho world, like that
other Milllcent nnd they were kind to
her!
Tho baby was better and asleep
when she reached her home. The
bonrds were newly scrubbed, a "lunch"
T1IK I.1IjY IN THE WINDOW,
was ready, a strange element of fes
tivity omannted from the lilies that
the mother set In the window. Moth
er nnd daughter ate their roll and
bologna sausagu and drank their tea
with added relish because of their
beauty.
"Shure," said Mrs. O'Flaherty, "I'd
almost forgot that tomorrow was Eas
ter day, bo I had. But we'll go to the
church the morning, Milllcent, nnd
then It's mien ye'll see, mavournecu."
But no Raster Illy could be like the
ono the other Milllcent had given her,
Frances Hariuer lu New York TriU-tine.
. Ml MM
The
Operation
e
GJB u .mi llll IIH llll -B
A man enmo over the edgo of tho
hill and looked down the long stretch
of dusty hlghwny. Ho was not an at
tractive fellow. Ills clothes were old
and tattered and his fnco was grimy.
He hesitated a moment nnd then
plodded along. When he wnlked ho
stooped a little, and he had a way ot
looking quickly to the right and left
from time to time, as it he expected to
sec something unpleasant.
He was plodding along nt a steady
pace when he was stnrtled by a voice.
"Hello, mister man?" it said.
The man recoiled a little at tho
greeting, and his keen, gray eyes
searched the roadside.
Then he saw the speaker. It was
a child perched on n gate post, a thin
faced boy with yellow hair and big
brown eyes.
"Hello," said the man.
His voice was harsh, his tone Im
patient. "I saw you first," said tho boy.
"Did you?" said the man.
The boy sniiled.
"What are you so mad about," he
asked.
The man came a little nearer.
"Why do you think I'm mad?"
"It's something In your voice," tho
boy replied. "It seems to say 'I'm
mad at everything nnd everybody.'"
The mnn drew a long breath.
v "You're a clever little fellow," he
said, and Ills voice seemed to soften.
"But then, you see, I'm nn exception."
"You're a what?"
"An exception. People never get
mad at me, an' they never laugh at
me either. They're always too sorry
to laugh."
The man stared at him.
"Why are they sorry?"
"Because I'm lame. It's my hip.
you know. It slips out. You'll see.
Thero was a great doctor here once.
He came over with some folks from
the Ridge in a choo-choo car, an' he
saw me. An' he says that boy could
bo cured if he went to the hospital in
the big city an' was oppyrated on, an'
my grandma said, 'How much would
It cost?' an' the doctor said 'Five hun
dred dollars.' That's a great deal of
money, ,aln't It?"
"It's quite a bunch," said the mnn.
"It's a great deal more than my
grandma's got," said the boy. "But
she's savin', an' maybe sometime she'll
have enough."
The mnn nodded and leaning
against the fence took ofT his battered
soft hat.
"How old are you, son?" he asked.
"You have nice hair," said the boy.
"An' bright eyes. I think you'd look
pretty good If you was washed up.
How old am I? I'm just twelve You
havo got a queer little scar high up
there on your forehead, haven't you?"
The man suddenly put on his hat.
Then he laughed.
"I wonder If you can tell mo where
I can get a drink, Mr. Shnrpeye3?" he
asked.
"I'll show you," said the boy. "The
well is up by the house. It's very fine
water. The parson said so when he
was here laBt week. You'll have to
lift me down. Grandma puts me up
here, an' when she thinks I'm tired
she comes and takes me down. I'm
not very heavy."
He was very light, as tho man found
when he gently lifted him from the
post and placed him on the ground.
"My" crutch," said the boy, "an' my
cane."
Tho man handed him the crutch
and cane, they were leaning against
the gate, and watched him as he
swung himself forward, a brave but
pitiable little figure.
"See here," said the man suddenly.
"I I think I'd llko to carry you. Can
you trust me?"
The boy looked around and smiled.
"Of course I can. I can trust you all
right. You're strong and you're gen
tle. No matter what happened you
wouldn't drop me,"
The man drew a quick breath as
he gathered the little figure in his
arms and carefully raised it.
The house was some distance back
from the highway and when they
reached it the man carefully put the
boy down on the broad old fashioned
porch,
"There's the well an' the dipper,"
said the child. "An' you can drink
your All without money an' without
price. That's what the parson said.
He's always sayln' funny tilings. You
don't know him, do you?"
The man shook his head as ho
wound up the chain that held the
bucket. Presently the water gushed
forth and he drank eagerly,
"That's very good water," he said.
"You didn't praise It any too highly."
He looked around and caught sight of
a woman standing In the doorway.
He quickly pulled off his hat. She
wan a woman past middle age, a seri
ous woman who looked nt him, he fan
cied. In a disapproving way. "I beg
your pardon, ma'am, for trespassing,"
he Bald, "but the lad here told me I
could have a much wished for drink."
"You are welcome to the water,"
the woman said.
"Without money an' without price,"
the boy chanted.
"Hush, Wilbur."
The man twisted his hat in his
hands.
"I'm a little down on ray luck,
ma'am," he said, "an' I'm In need ol
work badly. Couldn't you find some
thin' for me to do for a few days?"
"We do not encourage wanderers,"
said the woman. "It isn't safo. Some
of my neighbors have been sadly Im
posed upon. Your appearance is not
In your favor."
"I know It," said the mnn quickly,
"But you'll find that a basin of wntor
and a bit of soap will bring about n
great difference In my looks. I'm suro
I can make myself handy. Just give
mo a trial, ma'am." He looked
around. "You need n mnn's help. I
worked on a farm when I was a boy.
It's true I haven't nny friends about
here. I've come quite a piece." Ho
suddenly smiled, "I have ono recom
mendation," he snld. "An 1 don't
know of a bettor."
"What is your recommendation?"
the womnn asked.
He hnd moved about Until ho
brought tho figure of tho lnmo child
botween them.
Now he pointed to the lad.
"Here Is my recommendation," he
softly said.
"Do you want this man to stay here,
Wilbur?" the woman asked tho child.
"Yes, yes," the boy eagerly an
swered. "Let htm stay, grandma."
The woman gave tho man a quick
look.
"I will bring you n basin, nnd soap
nnd towels," she said. She looked
back from tho doorway. "You will
have to sleep In the barn," she added.
"Trust me to sleep soundly,' he
called after her.
"I'm glad you're going to stay,"
said tho child. "You an', mo will be
fine friends."
"I hope so," said tho man.
The wash In the hand basin effect
ed a quick change for tho better In
the man's appearance, n change that
tho woman viewed with npproval.
"That's pretty good water," laughed
the child. "It's Just as good outside
as 'tis inside only on tho outside yon
don't get so thirsty."
Tho man laughed.
"You mny call me Johnson," jho
said to the woman. "That's as good
a name as nny and easy to remember."
"Very well," the womr.n answered.
"And now you may look around and
see what you can plan to do."
"Yes," said the mnn.
"I can't promise to pay you until I
make up my mind what you arc
worth."
"That suits me." said the man.
"Grandma can't pay you much, vou
know," said the child, " 'cause she's
savin' up for the oppyratlon."
Tho woman looked nt the man.
"You know about this?" she said.
"Yes," he answered. "The lad
told me." ,
The woman drew a quick breath.
"The doctor was sure ho could be
helped," she said. Then sho quickly
added, "It seems a pity he should
have to go t1 -ough life like that."
"Yes," said the man very softly.
The boy smiled up at the woman,
and she smiled back a beautiful
smile that seemed to thaw the serious
ness of her care worn face. Then
sho turned abruptly and went Into the
house.
"I don't know why It Is," said the
child reflectively, "but It always
seems to make grandma sort of sniffy
when she talks about me. You no
ticed It, didn't you?"
"Yes," said the man, "I noticed It"
"She's a very good woman," said
the lnd. "When your mother's dead
and your father's dead, there's noth
ing like having the right kind of
grandma. That's right, ain't it?"
"That's right," said the man very
gravely.
"And now," cried tho boy, "let's go
out and take a look at the barn. That's
where you're goln' to slcop, you know,
I can walk If you don't want to carry
me."
The man laughed.
"I want to carry you, of course,"
he said.
"Suppose we leave tho crutch and
the can here," said the child. "You
might want to carry me back."
And the woman, hidden behind a
window curtain, watched the strange
ly assorted pair with an approving
smllo.
That night when the place was
quite still the man stood In the door
way, of the old barn and looked up
at the sky. The moon suddenly came
from behind a fluff' mass of cloud and
cast a flood of radiance over the gar
den. The man drow a folded paper from
his pocket and spread It out and
stared at it At the top of the sheet
In large type was the word "RE
WARD." The man glanced at It,
chuckled softly, and carefully folding
It again, replaced It In his vest. Then
he drow from an Inner pocket a shin
ing revolver. He saw that It was in
perfect condition and slipped it into
his side coat pocket.
"Good place to hldo," he muttered
as he looked around. "I can stay
here a couple of weeks, anyway.
They'll get me some tlmo, but I'll give
'em a lively hunt for It." He laughed
again and then his face suddenly soft
ened. "That's a queer little kid," he
muttered. "Too bad he's a cripple."
The woman had no fault to find
with tho man's work. He had plenty
to do and did It In a handy way and
wlta a cheerful spirit He cut wood,
he cleared up the garden, he painted
the old barn.
"You mustn't -work too hard," the
woman said to him ono day.
"Don't you worry about me," he an
swered In his cheery way. "This Is
my vacation time."
The boy and the man became tho
greatest of friends. The boy looked
up to the man as to a superior being
who knew the world outaldo the
world to which ho could never hope
to penetrate. And the man loved the
boy for bis frankness, his qunlntness,
and above all for tho perfect trust the
lad reposed In him.
The man talked with the woman
about the boy. Hor mind held fast
to ono subject the possibility that
the lad could bo cured. As tho boy
had said, she was saving her little
earnings, penny by penny, with that
eventful trip to the great city alwayi
In view.
"If I had the money, ma'am," said
tho man, "I'd gladly give it to help
the child. Or if I hHd friends I'd get
it from them. But I'm a wanderer,
ma'am, and every mnn's hand Is
agslnst me." He suddenly paused.
"And there's the making of n splen
did mnn in the little chap," he added
and nbruptly walked away.
He hnd nttneks of melancholy from
time to time, when he would hide
away, even from tho boy. Ho had one
thnt evening as he stood In the barn
doorway looking up nt tho darkened
sky.
"I'm tired of it all," ho muttered.
"Whnt chance Is there for me? They
are sure to hunt me down. I may
have to run again at any moment"
He drew the little handbill from his
pocket and stared at tho one word
thnt was visible In tho darkness. It
wns tho word "REWARD!" He
crumpled It In his hanil. "Stephen
Ridge," he slowly snld, "you've never
had much of a chnnce In the world.
You've never even had tho chanco to
show that thero was some good in
you after all. You've got such a
chance now."
Tho next morning he was about his
work whistling In his cheery -y.
Presently he asked tho woman for pen
nnd ink and paper.
"Are you going to write home?" she
asked.
He suddenly laughed.
"To the only homo I know," he an
swered. The boy gave the letter to a pass
ing farmer to mail and the man went
about his work In his usual brisk fash
ion. He was even more cheerful than
usual. "With tho sending of the letter
a load had been lifted from his mind.
Two days later, In the morning, a
light wngon stopped at tho gate and
two men alighted. The man was on
the lookout for them. He stepped to
the house.
"Come," he said to the woman. "I
wont you to meet some friends of
mine. Hush where Is tho boy?"
"He Is In the parlor rending."
"Don't let hi in hear you. Come."
Sho followed him wondering.
"Here," he said, "take this." And
he hastily thrust the handbill into
her hands. "You will show It when I
call for It."
The men were coming through the
gateway. At the sight of the man
with tho woman they both started and
sprang forward. The man held up
his hand.
"It's all right, Jim Raynor," he
called. "I'm cornered. I give up."
"Awfully glad to see you. Stevo,"
said tho man he had called Raynor.
"No 'possum tricks." He advanced
warily as he spoke.
"I tell you, I give up, Jim," the man
replied, "She wrote to you, didn't
she?" And he nodded towards the
woman.
"Yes."
"Recognized mo by the handbill
there, no doubt" And" he pointed to
the sheot of paper In the woman's
grasp. "Reward's $500, ain't it?"
"Yes, Steve."
"And she gets It?"
"Yes, Steve."
The woman had been staring con
fusedly from one to another. Now
she tried to speak. The man held
up his hand.
"Excuse me, ma'am," he said, "I
want to have a word in private with
my friends here." And he stepped a
little aside with the man called Ray
nor. "As a mark of good faith, Jim," he
murmured and slipped the loaded revolver-Into
his hand..
They talked earnestly for several
minutes, and then rejoined the wom
an. "Madam," said the man called Ray
nor, "I am the warden of the Eastern
penitentiary. This man is Stephen
Ridge, burglar, with a long list of
crimes to his discredit and a twenty
year sentence before him. Six weeks
ago he escaped from us and has elud
ed pursuit until now. I wnnt to say
that tho reward for the information
that has led to his capture Is $500,
which belongs to you. I will personal
ly see that the warrant for tho reward
Is placed In your hands. Jim hero,"
and he gently touched the man on the
shoulder, "say3 you will know what
to do with the money."
The woman tried to speak, but the
man again Interrupted her.
"Say goodby to the little chap for
me." he quickly said. "I wish .him
the best of luck."
And ho waved his hand cheerily as
he moved nway with the two men.
The woman was crying. W. R. Rose,
in Cleveland Plain Dealer.
Bovine Information.
A tencher was giving a "Lesson on
tho Cow." Sho was trying to Impress
on their young minds tlie various
use3 of milk. Butter, checso, etc., had
been disposed of, and she wanted
some bright child to toll how the far
mer gave the surplus milk to the pigs.
Leading up to this, she asked the
question:
"Now, children, ufter tho fanner
has made all the butter and cheese
he needs and uses what milk he wants
for his family, what does he do with
the milk that remains?"
"Dead silence followed for a mo
ment, and then one little hand waved
frantically.
The teacher smiled and said, "Well,
Tommy?"
"He pours It back Into the cow,"
piped Tommy.
He Always Loses.
"Docs your huBband play cards for
money?" "Judging from practical re
sults," answered young Mrs. Torklns,
"I should say not. But all the other
men In the game do." Washington
Star.
Whooping cough kills more children
under five years of age than scarlet
fover.
New Zealand's Gluttonous Cuckoo.
Professor I)i uinmond. the wclt
known New Henland naturalist, ha
been compiling . some furthor notes
with rcgnrd to tho voracious hablta of
the long-tailed ruckoo of Maorlland.
lie tins recently received n photo
graph taken oy G. Buddie of Auck
land, of n long tailed ctirkoo that had
half-swallowed a fnlrly largo lizard,
'and hnd been nearly choked by Its
effort. The llzaul wont down head
llrst. but Its fore limbs prevented tho
bird from taking In thu whole body,
nnd the reptHe stuck In the cuckoo's
bill until It !m resrued. Mr. Buddie
took n photograph of the bird with tho
lbard In Its bill, nnd another one after
tho lizard had been removed, and In
the later picture the look of rago and
disappointment Is very strongly
narked. A. Burrows, ot West Oxford,
North Canterbury, tolls tho professor
thnt In the crop of n long-tailed
cuckoo ho found two young gold
finches, full fledged, and had been,
swallowed whole. These bad habits ot
tho cuckoo, says Mr. Drummond, nra
strongly reprobated by more decent
birds, the tuls and others chasing tho
marauder out of tho bi'sli whenever
they get the chance.
If Your Liver is Wrong,
You Are Wrong All Over.
A torpid, inactive liver goes hand in hand
with constipation, and is a chronic condi
tion, one requiring a systematic, well
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establish conditions of health and perfect
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Smith's Pineapple and Butternut Pills,
containing the two elements needed to in
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go accurately to the sluggish liver anil
bowels, restoring them to perfect action.
They are composed of the two great vege
table agents, pineapple for thu stomach,
liver and gastric secretions, and butternut
for the mucous membrane, circulation am?
bonels, and always give best results they
are Nature's own laxative.
Thousandsofsatisfiedandgrateful people
have written us about the great benefit they
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wrltM: "I took Sniitu'a Pineapple nu.l flutter
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pcrio.li, ami they wurkeil like a charm."
Physicians use and recommend. They
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To Cure Constipation
Biliousness and Sick
Headache in .a Night, use
cillTU'C tnn A ' .
y pineapple fsnsstXR x&?
puis issss&p
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"6I original Rhus package, to cents.
P I C Tril boie.M pills, 15 cents. All
I L-l-J drngglsts seU and recommend.
M. LEE BRAMAN
EVERYTHING IN LIVERY
Buss for Every Train and
Town Calls.
Horses always for sale
Boarding and Accomodations
for Farmers
Prompt and polite attention
at all times.
ALLEN HOUSE BARN.
Railway Mail Clerks Wanted,
The Government Pays ltuihvny Mail
Clerks $800 to Ijil.UOO, and othei
employees up to $2,00 annually.
Uncle Sam will hold spring exami
nations throughout tho country for
Railway Mail Clerks, Custom House)
Clerks, Stenographers, Bookkeepers,
Departmental Clerks and other Gov
ernment Positions. Thousands of
appointments will be made. Any man
or woman over 18, In City or Coun
try can get Instruction and free In
formation by writing at once to the
Bureau of Instruction, 0G5 Hamlin
Building, Rochester, N. Y. 103eolly
Through
Drawing-Room Buffet
Sleeping Car
UKTWEEN
Scranton and Pittsburg
IN BOTH DIRECTIONS
via
Pcnna. R. R. from Wilkes-Barre
Leave Scranton at 5:30 P.M. daily
except Son. arrive Pittsburg 7 A.M.
Leave Pittsburg at 8:50 P.M. daily
except Sat. ar. Scranton 9:59 A.M.
Berth reservations can be made
through Ticket Agents, or
GEO. E. BATES,
Div. Frt. and Fnw. Agt.
Scranton, Pa. 15ei20