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16 %g^ IN THE LIFE OF AMELIA BUTTEPUORTH %r&h~ by anna kathapine gpeen-^ IFSd^ - • Al/THOI- OF "THE LEAVENWORTH CATE* , _. _ BEHIND OOTEt. DOOR/* "THAT /.FFAII2 NEXT DOOCi <-**• COPYRIGHT, 1897. BY AMNA K. ROHLFJ. — • ETC EIC. CHAPTER I. Ever since my fortunate — or shall I ■ay unfortunate, connection with that famous case of murder in Gramercy park I have had lt intimated to me by many of my friends — and by innumera ble acquaintances — that no woman who had met with such success ln de tective work would ever be satisfied with a single display of her powers, and that sooner or later I would find myself again at work upon some other case of striking peculiarities. As vanity has never been my foible, and as, moreover, I never have and never would be likely to forsake the plain path marked out for my sex at any other call than that of duty, I in variably responded to these insinua tions by an affable but Incredulous smile, striving to excuse their pre sumption by remembering their ignot- ' ance of my nature and the very excel lent reasons I had for my one notable Interference ln the police affairs of New York city. Besides, though I appeared to be resting quietly, if not in entire con tentment, on my laurels, I was not so utterly removed from the old atmos phere of crime and Its detection as the world ln general considered me. Mr. Gryce still visited me; not on busi ness, of course, but as a friend, as a man for whom I had some regard, and naturally our conversation was not al ways confined to the weather or even to city politics, provocative as the lat ter subject is of controversy between all right thinking men and women just now. Not that he ever betrayed any of the secrets of the offlce or even any of his own— oh, no; that would have been too much to expect— but he did sometimes mention some of the outward aspects of some celebrated case, and though I never ventured upon advice — I know too much for that, I hope— l found my wits more or less exercised by a con versation from which he expected to grain something without acknowledging It, and I to give something without appearing to be conscious of the fact. I was therefore satisfied in my mind and was finding life pleasant and full of Interest when suddenly (I had no right to expect it, and I do not blame myself for not expecting it or for hold ing my head so high at the prognosti cations of my friends) an opportunity came for a direct exercise of my de tective powers ln a line seemingly so laid out for me by Providence that I felt I would be slighting the powers above if I refused to enter lt, though now I see that the line was laid out for me by Mr. Gryce and that I was obeying anything but the call of duty In embracing It. But this is not explicit. Let me tell the whole from the beginning. One night Mr. Gryce came to my house looking older and feebler than usual He was engaged in a perplexing case', he said, and missed his early vigor and persistency. Would I like to hear about It? It was not in the line of his usual work, yet it had points— and well— lt would do him good to talk about it to a non -professional who was capable of sympathizing-- with its baffling and wor risome features and yet would never have to be told to hold her peace. I ought to have been on my guard. I ought to have known the old fox well enough to feel certain that when he Went so manifestly out of his way to take me into his confidence he did it for a purpose it would be well enough for me to understand before placing too great stress on his disabilities, but Jove nods now and then— or so I have been assured by what should be consid ered as unimpeachable authority— and If Jove has ever been caught napping •urely Amelia Butterworth may be par doned for one such Inconsistency. "It is not a city crime," Mr. Gryce went on to explain, and here he was base enough to sigh. "At my time of life that is an important and a far from desirable consideration. It is no longer a simple matter for me to pack up a valise and go off to some distant village, way up In the mountains perhaps] where comforts are few and secrecy an Impossibility. Comforts have become Indispensable to my three-score years and ten, and secrecy— well, if ever there was a case where one needs to go soft ly, it is this one, as you will see If you will allow me to give you the facts of the case as known at headquarters to day." I bowed, trying not to show my sur prise or my extreme satisfaction. Mr. Gryce aseumed his most benignant as pect, always a dangerous one with him, and began his story. CHAPTER 11. I AM TEMPTED. Borne ninety miles from here, In a more or less inaccessible region, there is a small but beautiful village which ha* been the scene of so many strange and unaccountable disappearances pre sumably murders, that the attention of the New York police haa been at last dlreoted to it. The town, which is at least nine miles from any railroad, is one of those quiet, placid little spots found now and then among the moun tains, where lif.> Is of the simplest and crime, to all appearance, an element so %wtm W "iwi" / 111 X BEATS EGGS AND /11 \ CREAM / 11 \ au,cker and Better Lgfe3M|P|l Than un y other Beater w *" Let us tell you tbe reason, It is built differently and lias a better principle we have beep showing how thoy work tor sev eral jveeUK. and ihey i»ell every time. Better He. see 11.QH) if you don't waul tb buy, for you will pay. to lake oue. ST. PAUL HARDWARE CO., geventh and Minnesota Ms, out of accord with every other charac teristic of the place as to seem a com plete anomaly. Yet crime or some other hideous mystery almost equally revolt ing has during the last five years been accountable for the disappearance ln or about thl3 village of four persons of va rious ages and occupations. Of these, three were strangers and one a well known vagabond accustomed to tramp the hills and live on the bounty of farmers' wives. All were of the male sex, and in no case has any clew ever come to light as to their fate. They were not seen or ever heard of again. That is the matter as it "stands before the police today." "A serious affair," I remarked. "Seems to me I have read of such things in novels. Is there a tumbled down eld inn in the vicinity where bads are made up over trapdoors?" His smile was a mild protest against my flippancy. "I have visited the town myself. There is no inn there, but a comfortable hotel of the most matter of fact sort, kept by the frankest and most open minded landlord. Besides, these dis appearances, as a rule, did not take place at night, but In broad daylight. Imagine this street at noon. It is a Fhort one, and you know every house on lt. and, you think, every lurking place. You see a man enter it at one end and expect him to Issue from lt at the other. But suppose he naver does. More than that, supose he ls never heard of again, and that this thing should hapen just here on this one street six times during five years." "I should move," I responded dryly. * "Would you? Many good people have moved from the place I speak of, but that has not helped matters. The dis- '■ appearances go on, and the why and j •the where are Just as much a mystery j as ever." "You Interest me," I said. "Come to think of It, if this street were the j scene of such an unexplained series of ! horrors as you have described, I do not j think I would move." "I thought not," he responded, curt- i ly. "But since you are interested let j me be more explicit in my statements, i The first person whose disappearance was noted" — "Wait," I interrupted. "Have you a \ map of the place?" He smiled, nodded quite affectionate- | ly to an old friend of his on the mantel piece, but did not produce the map. "That detail will keep," said he. "Let me go on with my story. As I was saying, madam, the first person whose dlsapearance there was noted was a peddler of small wares, accus tomed to tramp the mountains. On this occasion he had been in town long er than usual and was known to have sold fully half of his goods. Conse- i quently he mmust have had quite a i sum of money upon him. One day his j pack was found lying under a cluster ! of bushes In a wood, but of him r.oth- I lng was ever again heard. It made an excitement for a few days while the woods were being searched for his body, but nothing having been discov ered he was forgotten and everything went on as before, till suddenly public attention was again aroused by the pouring ln of letters containing In quiries ln regard to a young man who had been sent there from Duluth to col lect facts In a law case, and who, after a certain date, had failed to communi cate with his firm or show up at any of the places where he was known. In stantly the village was ln arms. Many remembered the young man, and some two or three of the villagers could re call the fact of having seen him go up the street with his handbag In his hand as If on his way to the mountain station. The landlord of the hotel could flx the very day on which he left his house, but Inquiries at the station failed to establish the fact that he "HE NEVER REACHED DEACON SPEAR'S." took the train from there, nor were the most minute inquiries into his fate at that time or afterward ever attended by the least result. He was not known to have carried much money, but he were a very handsome watch and chain and a ring of more than ordinary value, none of which has ever shown up at any of the pawnbrokers within the knowledge of the police. This- was three years ago. "The next occurrence of a like char acter did not take place till a year after. This time it was a poor old man from Hartford who vanished al most as lt were before the eyes of these astounded villagers. He had come to town to get subscriptions for a valua ble book Issued by a well known pub lisher. He had been more or less suc cessful, and was looking very ohtier ful and contented when one morning, after making a sale at a certain farm house, he sat down to dine with them, it being close on to 12 o'clock, He had eaten several meuthfuls and was chat ting quite freely when suddenly they saw him pause, clap his hand te his fock-t and rise up very much dis* urbed, *J have left my pecketbook behind me at Deacon Spear's,' said he, 'I cannot eat with it out of my posses sion, Excuse me if Igo fop it,' And without and further apologias he ran out of tha house end down the read in the direction of Deaeen Spaar's, He pever reached Deaaon gpear's, BOF was he ever oten in that village again vi* ia THE SAINT PAUL GLOBS: SUNDAY, JANUARY 2, 1898. his home in Hartford. This was the most astounding mystery of all. With in a half mile's distance in a populous country town this man disappeared as if the road had swallowed him and closed again. It was marvelous, In credible and remained so even after the best efforts of the county police to solve the mystery had exhausted them selves. After this the town began to acquire a bad name, and one or two families moved away. Yet no one was found who was willing to admit that these various persons had been the vic tims of foul play till a month later an other case came to light of a young man who had left the village for the hillside station and had never arrived at that or any other destination so far as could be learned. As he was a distant relative of a wealthy cattle owner in lowa, who came on post haste to inquire Into his nephew's fate, the excitement ran high, and through his efforts and that of Mr. Trohm the services of our office were called into play. But the result has been nil. We have found neither the bodies of these men nor any clew to their fate." I could not help casting an envious glance at the pocket where I felt sure that the map I had asked for lay. "Yet you have been there?" I sug gested. He nodded. "Wonderful!" I exclaimed. "And you came upon no suspicious house, no suspicious person?" The finger with which he was rub bing his eyeglasses went round and round the rims with a slower and slow er and still more thoughtful motion. "Every town has its suspicious look ing houses," he slowly remarked, "and, as for persons, the most honest often wear a lowering look ln which an un bridled Imagination can see guilt. 1 never trust in appearances of that kind." "What else can you trust ln," I said, "where all is imprenetrable as in this case?" His finger, going slower and slower, suddenly stopped. "In my knowledge of persons," said he, "knowledge of their fears, their hopes and their Individual concerns. If I were twenty years younger" — here he stole a glance at me in the mirror which made me bridle; did he think I was only twenty years younger than himself? — "I would," he went on, "make myself so acquainted with ev ery man, woman and child there" — Here he drew himself up with a jerk. "But the day for that is passed," said he. "I. am too old and too crippled to succeed in that undertaking. Having been there once, I am a marked man. My walk alcne betrays me. He whose good fortune it will be to get at the bottom of these people's hearts must awaken no suspicions as to his con nection with the police. Indeed, I do not think that any man can succeed in doing this now." I started. This was a frank show ing of his hand at least. No man! It was a woman's aid he was after, then. I laughed as I thought of it. I had not thought him either so presumptu ous or so appreciative of talents of a character so directly in line with his own. "Don't you agree with me, madam?" I did agree with him, but I had a character of great dignity to main tain, so I only looked at him with an air of marked severity. "I do not know of any woman who would undertake such a task," I ob served. "No?" He smiled with that air of forbearance which is so exasperating to me. "Well, perhaps there isn't any such woman to be found. It would take one of very uncommon character istics, I own." "Pish!" I cried, "Not so very!" "Indeed, I think you have not fully taken In the case," he urged in quiet superiority. "The people there are of the higher order of country folk. Many of them are of extreme refinement. One family" — I thought his tone changed the least In the world here — "Is poor enough and elegant enough to interest even such a woman as yourself." "Indeed!" I answered, with just a touch of my father's hauteur to hide the stir of curiosity his words naturally evoked. "It is in some such home," he went on with an ease that should have warned me that he had started on this pursuit with a quiet determina tion to win, "that the clew will be found to the mystery we are consider ing. Yes, you may well look startled, but that conclusion is the one thing I brought away with me from X — , let us say. I regard lt as one of some moment. What do you think of lt?" "Well," said I, "it makes me feel like recalling that pish I uttered a few minutes ago. It would take a woman of uncommon characteristics to assist you in this matter." "I am glad we have got that far," said he. "A lady," I went on. "Most assuredly a lady." I paused. Sometimes discreet silence Is more sarcastic than speech. "Well, what lady would lend herself to this scheme?" I asked at last. The tan, tap of his Angers on the rim of his glasses was my only answer. "I do not know of any," said I. His eyebrows rose perhaps a hair's breadth, but I noted the implied sar casm and for an instant forgot my dignity. "Now," said I, "this will not do. You mean me— Amelia Butterworth, a woman who — but I do not think lt la necessary to tell you either who or what I am, You have presumed— Now de not put en that look of In neeenee, and above all do not attempt te deny what is so manifestly in your thoughts, for that ie tha one thins Which yen eeuld do which would makß me feel JJHe showing you the door, "Then," he §mi}ed, f, I shall be sura pet to make it, I am not an;xleua t» leave — yet, Besides, whe ceuid I me*_-.n but you? A lafly visiting- friepds ir ( this remote and beautiful -region— what opportunities might she not have to probe this important mystery if, like yourself, she had tact, discretion, ex cellent understanding and an expe rience which if not broad or deep is i certainly such as to give her a certain j confidence in herself and an undoubted ; influence with the man fortunate I enough to receive her advice." "Bah!" I exclaimed. It was one of | his favorite expressions. That was perhaps why I used it. "One would ! think I was a member of your po- | lice." "You flatter ue too deeply," was his instant deferential answer. "Such an j honor as that would be beyond our deserts." To this I gave but the faintest sniff. That he should think that I, Amelia Butterworth, could be amenable to ! such barefaced flattery! Then I faced him with some asperity and said j bluntly: "You waste your time. I ! have no more intention of meddling ln another affair than" — "You had in meddling in the flrst," he politely, too politely, interpolated. "I understand, madam." I was angry, but put a curb on ev ery expression of It. I was not willing he should see that I could be affected by anything he could say. "The Van Burnams are my next door i neighbors," I remarked sweetly. "I had the best of excuses for the inter est I took in their affairs." "So you had," Jj^.acquiesced. "I am glad to be reminded of the fact. I won der I was able to forget It." Angry now to the point of not being able to hide it, I turned upon him with firm determination. "Let us talk of something else," I said. But he was equal to the occasion. Drawing a folded paper from his pock et, he opened it out before my eyes, saying quite naturally: "That is a happy thought. Let us look over this sketch you were sharp enough to ask for a few moments ago. It shows the streets of the village and the places where each of the persons I have men tioned to you was last seen. Is it not what you wanted?" I know that I should have drawn back with a frown, that I never should j have allowed myself the satisfaction of casting so much as a glance toward the paper, but the human nature which links me to my kind was too much for me, and with an involuntary "Exact ly!" I leaned over It with an eagerness I strove hard even at that exciting mo ment to keep within the bounds I thought proper to my position as a non-professional, interested in the matter from curiosity alone. This is what I saw: i m. I Mil 5 aim I * (V °^ "^ I i -Hi 1 y v * n ■3U- _/ "^ **.•■ P* %T □« "Mr. Gryce"— this after a few min utes' close contemplation of the dia gram before me — "I do not suppose you want «ny opinion from me." "Madam," said he, "it is all have left me free to ask for." Receiving this as a permission to speak, I put my finger on the road marked X. "Then," said I, "so far as I can gath er from this drawing all the disappear ances seem to have taken place in or about this especial road." "You are as correct as usual," said he. "So true is this that the people there have already given to this wind ing way a special cognomen of its own. For two years now it has been called Lost Man's lane." "A half-mile or so." I must have looked my disgust, for his hands opened deprecatingly. "The ground has undergone a thor ough search," said he. "Not a square foot in those woods you see on either side but has been gone over." "And the houses?" I see there are three houses on this road." "Oh, they are owned by most re spectable people — most respectable peo ple," he repeated with a lingering em phasis that gave me an inward shud der. "I think I had the honor of inti mating as much to you a few minutes ago." I looked at him earnestly and irre sistibly drew a little nearer to him over the diagram. "Have none of these houses been vis ited by you?" I asked. "Do you mean to say you have not seen the inside of them all?" "Oh," said he, "I have been in them all, of course, but a mystery such as we are investigating is not written upon the walls of parlors or halls." "You freeze m T - blood," I murmured. Scmehow the sight of these homes drawn cut before me seemed to bring me into more intimate sympathy with the affair. His shrug was significant. "1 told you that this was no vulgar mystery," said he, "or why should I be considering It with you? It ls quite worthy of your interest. Do you see that house marked A?" "I do," I nodded. "Well, that is a decayed mansion of imposing proportions set in a forest of overgrown shrubbery. The ladies who inhabit It"— "Ladles!" I put in, with a small shock of horror. "Young ladies," he explained, "of a refined If not over-prosperous appear ance. They are what is left of a family of some repute. Their father was a judge, I believe." "And do they live there alone?" I asked, "two young ladies in a house so large and in a neighborhood so full of mystery?" "Oh, they have a brother with them, a lout of no great attractions," he re sponded carelessly— too carelessly, I thought. I made a note of-ihe h< _ne A ln my mind. "And who lives there?" I now que ried, pointing te the house marked B. "A Mr. Trohm. ist was through his exertions that "the services of the New York police were insured. His place there is one of the most interesting ln town, and he- does not want to be forced to leave it, but he will be obliged to do so if the road is not soon relieved of its bad name, and so will Deacon Spear. The very children shun the road now, I do not know of a lonelier place," "I see a little cross marked up here on the verse ef the woods. What does that mean?" "That i_ a hut — It can hardly be called a eettage — where a poor old wo man lives called Mother Jane, She is a harmless old imbecile, against whom no ene has ever directed a suapieien. You may take your finger off that mark. Miss Butterworth." I did so, but I did not forget that it stood very near the footpath branching • oft to the station. j "You entered this hut as well as the big houses?" I intimated. i "Four walls," was his answer. "Just four walls; nothing more." I let my finger travel along the foot j path I have just mentioned. . "Steep," was his comment. "Up, up j all the way, but no precipices. Noth j ing but pine woods on either side, I thickly carpeted with needles." My finger came back and stopped at the house marked M. "Why is a letter affixed to this spot?" I asked. "Because it stands at the head of : the lane just as Deacon Spear's guards r the foot. Any one sitting at the win dow L can see whoever enters or ■ leaves the lane at this end. And some one is always sitting there. The woman who lives there has two crippled chil dren a boy and a girl. One of them is always in that window." •™ f ee '"_ sald L Then abruptl-v, Spear?" y ° U think of Deaco n "Oh " said he. "a well meaning man. none too fine ln his feelings. He does not mind the neighborhood; likes quiet he says. I hope you will know him for yourself some day," said he. At this return to the forbidden sub ..^ ld m y s *€ ]f very much aloof. Your diagram Is Interesting." said I. "but it has not in the least changed my determination. It is you who will go back there and that very soon." "Not very soon," said he. "Whoever goes there on this errand must go at once, tonight, If possible; if not to morrow, at the latest." "Tonight! Tomorrow!" I cried "And you thought" — "No matter what I thought," he sighed, "it seems I had no ground work for it." And folding up the map he slowly rose. "The young man we have left there Is doing more harm than good. That is why I say some one of real ability must replace him and that immediately. The detective from New York must seem to have left tha place." I made him my most ladylike bow of dismissal. "I shall watch the papers," I said. "I have no doubt that I shall soon see in them some token of your success." He cast a rueful look at his hands tcok a painful step toward the door and dolefully shook his head. I kept my silence undisturbed. He took another painful step. "By the way," he remarked as I stood watching* him with an uncompromis ing air, "I have forgotten to mention the name of the town in which these disappearances have occurred. It is called X, and it ls to be found on one of the spurs of the Berkshire hills." And being by this time at the door he gave me a bow ln which was concen trated all the insinuating suavity of which he was capable, and ln another moment was gone. The old fox was so sure of his triumph that he did not even wait to see it. He knew— how I have never thought it necessary to in quire—that X was a place I had often threatened to visit. There was living there the family of one of my dearest friends. She had been a schoolmate of mine, and when she died I had prom ised myself that I would not let many months elapse before making the ac quaintance of her children. Alas, I had let years go by! (To Be Continued Next Sunday.) '^^> r^V TTYTrT*vvT I Music In St. Paul. I Miss Gertrude San Soucl has gone to New York, where she will continue her studies under Alexander Lambert, of the New York College of Music, and under whose direction she will make her debut. She ls to play for several organ committees and has arranged to do accompanying for Mme. Lillian Blauvelt. Miss San Soucl has Men a student of the pianoforte since eight years of age, beginning her work in St. Paul, con tinuing with Mr. Titcomb and Mr. Van Ellemeet, and going to Berlin half a dozen years ago where she studied with Raff and Mo3kowskl. Through the efforts of the late Monsignor Caillet she took up the pipe organ, and for four years was organist at St. Luke's. Musically, Miss San Soucl has the rare charm of poetic feeling, which reads between the lines of familiar scores and a delicate touch united with ample power. Personally she is charm ing, vivacious, a fluent linguist in Ger man and French, and of such g;aceful bearing as to make an attractive pict ure at the piano. She should become a greater success in the greater field of the metropolis. The concert to be given under the direction of M. Emile Onet Tuesday evening, Jan. 11, at the Park Congre gational church, promises to be one of the best of the season. The artists to take part are Miss Katherlne Richards Gordon, soprano; Miss Millie Pottgieser, contralto; Emile Onet, tenor; Percy B. Churchill, basso; Miss Ella Richards, pianist; Frank W. Krieger, accompanist. The programme will consist principally of operatic se lections, prominent among which will be the quartette from "Faust" In Eng lish; an aria from "I Medici," sung by Mrs. Gordon; aria from "Don Juan" and a group of songs by Mr. Onet, and the serenade frcm "Faust," by Mr. Churchill. The fourth of the series of the Danz popular symphony orchestra concerts will take place today at the Metropol itan opera house, Minneapolis, and will commence promptly at 3:30 p. m. Mr. Danz has prepared for this concert a programme that will, no doubt, please immensely the large audiences that are In the habit of attending these popu lar concerts both from St. Paul and Minneapolis. Fritz Schlachter, the 'celloist, will be the soloist of today's concert. The programme is as follows: March— "The Bride Elect" Sousa Overture — "Phedre" Massenet Vorsplel— "Tristan and Isolde" — "Isoldes Llbestod" Wagner Concerto — For cello, ln A minor. .Goltermann Herr. Fritz Schlachter. a.— "Le Dernier Sommeil de la Vlerge" — Massenet b.— "Liebesl'ied" Taubert String orchestra. Concert Waltz— "Wiener Bonbons" Strauss Suite for Orchestra— "Carmen" Bizet Nietzsche, to whom Strauss pays the tribute of his music, ls still compara tively little known in this country. His two Wagner books, the flrst called "Richard Wagner ln Bayreuth" and the second "The Wagner Case," are diame trically opposed to each other, the sec ond volume abusing and vilifying tho composer as ardently ac the flrst held him up as an example. Nietzsche, who was professor of Greek philosophy at the University of Bat.lt. for a consider able period, was well fitted to under take his task, A recent reviewer thus speaks of him and his work: "Disdaining metaphysics, remaining 'bravely en the surface,' he occupies himself wholly with life, with how to live, Hia province ls ethics. In tho domain of metaphysics there has been long since a general upsetting and clearing away of the eld scholastic sys tems that had (steed §o long but pre curiously, like these fantaatio, inered- STEIIM&O SHEETING SALE. It is Our Wholesale Business, En connection with our Retail, that enables us to offer goods for less than any excEusive retail store in the United States. Pepperell Sheeting. Pepperell Sheeting, *% width, per yard 120 Pepperell Sheeting, % width, per yard 1020 Pepperell Sheeting, % width, per yard 9o Pepperell Sheeting, % width, per yard 7Jo " Lonsdale Bleached Muslin, yard wide, f a r rd ...4Jo THEY MUST GO I Our entire winter stock must go, no matter how great the pecuniary loss, as we know from experience that carried-over goods get not only shop-" worn, out of style, etc., but can always be replaced the subsequent season for less money. Hence we have delerniined to sacrifice all Winter Goods at less than manufacturer',, cost. 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Now 000 Down Comforters Almost Given Away Finest quality Down Comforters, fllled with best genuine down, covered with flnest silkaline. full size; our former lowest cash price, $1.50; now, eacii f1.75 We are badly overstocked on theso Com forters, and do not want to carry them over to supply the moths with a summer's ration, hence this great sac rifice. We guarantee the down filling to be worth more than $1.75. not count ing the silkaline or making, or money refunded. Heavy Comforters, fllled with good cot ton, full size, each 78c Heavy Wool-Finish Blankets, full 10-4 size, per pair 45 c Very Heavy Half-Wool Blankets, 11-4 size, per pair $1.20 P. N. CORSETS Are the enly Corsets made with cork protected Clasps, thereby in suring- the undergarments freedom from rust spots. Every pair guar anteed. Give them a trial. If not entirely satisfactory money will be refunded. Price, 75c and $1.00, H. STEfIN & CO., Cor. Seventh and Minnesota Sts. lble cathedrals of the thirteenth cen tury, preserved by dint of artful and Incessant repairs. But our ancient moral edifice has not been seriously threatened for 2,000 years. At last, however, Nietzsche has attacked it in the same destructive spirit that Vol taire in the last century attacked the metaphysics of the church, and with even a keener irony, and with a cul ture incomparably more adequate. To formulate and advance a new moral doctrine, to take a new attitude toward lifo, and deduce from it new estimates of what is good and what is had— that was his single and unflinching purpose. Everywhere he announces himself as 'a breaker of old values,* 'a creator of new values' — using the word 'values' to I signify that which is valued and es teemed in the conduct, achievements and attainments of men." Tn support of this, the following from Nietzsche himself Is quoted: "For a long time, much too long, man has looked askance at his natural in clinations, and has succeeded in con necting them with the 'bad conscience.' The very reverse of this might be at tempted with success, but who dares try it? Who ls strong enough? The way to do it would be to take all In clinations that are contrary to nature, all that are anti-sensual, anti-instinc tive, anti-animal, ln short, all ideals that have hitherto been known, for they all are hostile to life, all abusive of life, and to couple these themselv* s with the 'bad conscience.' In whom today could we put these our hopes, on whom impose such exigencies?" | This, then, is a sample of the man whom Richard Strauss glorifies in his symphonic poem. It will be Interesting to note, if possible, whether the com poser has been as iconoclastic as the writer whom he reveres. M. Guilmant will give Ms second recital in Mendelssohn hall on the afternoon of Dec. 28. Ho will give a new programme, and again be heard ln some of his Improvisations. Mme. i Emma Juch will assist M. Gu'lmant, and be | heard In New York for the flrst time this season. She will sing one of M. Guiimant's compositions and a group of songs. The annual Christmas performances of "Trie Messiah" by the Oratorio society of New York will take place Wednesday afternoon, Dec. 29, and Thursday evening, Dec. 30. Mme. Clem entine De Vere, Mrs. Carl Alves and Messrs. Van Hoose and Raines will be the soloists. The two latter are members of the Damrosch- E'.lls Opera company. Mr. Blspham will aid Arthur Whiting and | the Kneisel quartette ln the series of cham j ber music concerts to be given on Sunday ! afternoons In the Fine Arts building, In West i Fifty-seventh street. Last Sunday's pro i gramme consisted of Schumann's pianoforte I quartette, two movements from Brahms's Sonata, op. 99, for pianoforte and violoncello. ; and Brahms' quartette for pianoforte and strings in G minor, op. 25. The many friends of Miss Mary E. Haliock, Philadelphia's talented young pianiste, now ln Vienna studying under Leschet'.zky, will be Interested in knowing that at the request of Mr. and Mrs. Charlemagne Tower she played a number of her great master's com positions at the Thanksgiving reception given by the American ambassador in their exquisite Oreste Bimboni, the assistant conductor of the Damrosch-Ellls forces, under Mr. Dam rosch, has written many works. "Santuzza," a continuation of the "Cavalieria Rusticana" of Mascagnl, was produced at Palermo three years ago. "La Modella" and "Halducal," his two other works, have also been produced. He began his career as conductor at Bastla, Corsica, while he was still a young man, and was a soldier under Garibaldi at the age of 18. His work this season has displayed great care and energy and a very sympathetic temperament. At a concert lately given In Queen '■ hall, London, the programme was made up of an tiquarian music and the artists were corr3 sjwndlngly coßtumed. The novelty of tho event was the execution of the ac_om?anl ments by a band of lcstrunvnts, which In cluded virginals, lute, viola da gambo, viola d'amcre and harpsichord. Ludwlf J-oesendorfor. a piano m*nu"a"- turer of Vlontsa, has offered three prlzos for now concertos tor flano- and orchestra to commemorate the tweuty-flfth annlve saryo;' A eoneert hall that boars h's num. thero. Tha prises aro -.000 crown* for first-. 1.200 for peeond and f>CO for thhd. Tho JudRM nre Epstein, Qorlcke, Oruenfsld, Uech-iliky and Underwear, 25c. Ladles' Heavy Gray Merino Underwear. the BOc kind, now 2So Ladles' Very Heavy Fine Pure Natural Wool Underwear, value 86c, now 64a Wool Stockings, 11c. Misses' Heavy All -Wool Sto-klngs all sizes, actual valuo 20c. now ' u 0 Ladles' Heavy All-Wool Stockings! "ac tual value 25c, now u^ Men's Underwear, 13c. Men's Heavy Gray Underwear, wool mixed, worth 25c. now, each _.3_, Men's Heavy Pure Wool Medicated Scar let Underwear, the 85c kind, now each. 48. Men s Heavy Fleece-Lined Underwear each '37Ua Men's Extra Heavy Finest' Lamb's "wool" Fleeced. Wool-Faced Underwear, Shlrtd only; actual value, 98c; now, each .... 800 Wool Socks, 9c. Men's Very Heavy Pure Wool Socks ac tual value 15c, now j<j Silk MuffSers, 38c. Large size Pure Silk Mufflers, each 38a Shirts, 28c. Men's Fine Unlaundered Dress Shirts, made of heavy muslin, pure linen front,' reinforced bark and front, each ! 28« * Men's Fine White Laundered Dress Shirts, each 39,5 Rosenthal and the competition ls cpen to ths world. "Siegfried" had its flrst performance in Weimar under the direction of Stavenhagen about a fortnight ago at the Court theater the proceedings at law between that theater and Wagner's estato being compromi.cd. The Royal opera house, at Berlin, has just completed its third presentation this season of Wagner's "Xibeiungen Ring," and haa an nounced a fourth repetition. The whole of the third act of "Parsifal," and scenes from the first and scond will be given at the Albany May Fea.ival, Elliott ischenck, conductor. Adan_owski has been invited to play St. Saer.s' Concerto for the Violin Xo. 3 with the London Philharmonic. June 23, undpr tha direction of the composer. Tho New York Philharmonic club gtvrs a concert iv the Academy of Music on Tues day eveiiing, Dec. 28. Jean Deße.-zke Is announced to s!ng Fleg fried. Faust. Lohengrin and I.a'.ul at the Berlin opera this month. The Mozart Symphony club is announced for a concert Wednesday evening, Feb. 9, lv the Academy of Music. Eug-^n d'Albert Is playing In London at the Monday "Pup" concerts. Sousa's band sails frcm New York on May 23, to make an extended European trip. An American t-irl known on the stage aa Fannie Framisoa has made a gen uiim suc i-fr^H in Milan. Her real name ls Mlchelson, and she comes from San Francisco. She haa followed tbe example of Melba arrd Albaal ln forming her stage name. I have seen a ream of criticisms of this girl from French and Italian papers, and they all praise her Marguerite In mon extravagant terms. She Is singing at present— or will slug very soon — at the Teatro Lyri.ro In Milan. Joseph Bennett writes in The Telegram that not much success attended Dr. Dvorak's attempt to ujo negro melodies In the Ameri can symphony, and he Intimates that Prof. MaoDowell's Indian suite has failrd also. There are two reasons why an English rritic should and would condemn thesi works: First, they are Ameri"an, and, second, they were produced ir. America before they were heard in England. Not even Mr. Bennett Is strong enough to stem the tide of l.nglieh prejudice against America. Well, we may be a poor lot. artistically, but we cannot be made to swallow "Romeo ct Juiiett<" on a subscription night at the opera, with Marie Engle and Lloyd Daublgne In the principal parts. palace, belonging to one of the royal family. More than three hundred people were present, Samuel M. Clemens (Mark Twain) being ono of the many distinguished guests. The great enthusiasm with which Miss Hallock's play ing was received is a most decided indication that her remarkable talents were recognized by the leaders of Vienna's musical coterie. Miss Hal-ock is indeed to be congratulated upon her very pronounced success. The musical recital given Monday evening at the Portland b!o>-k, on Broadway, under the direction of Prof. John Fenwlek, was a rare treat from a musical standpoint to the large number of the class and their friends who assembled, the occasion boing a compli mentary musk-ale given by Prof. Fen wick. The dining hall was prettily decorated with palms and cut flowers. The programme In cluded piano solos by Prof. Fetiw! k and Prof. StcdlwoVck, Miss Reltzman and Mis:) Scarrett. Vocal solos by Miss Msude Stillwell and Mrs. - Benton, both of Minneapolis. Ma ter Albert Inerram also ga%e a solo. Master McLaughlin Sand, a couple of solos. The remainder ot the programme was contrlb'i'ed by Messrs Krah.mer, Scarrett and Feowlck. This is the first of a sorle. or c om illrre.. ary musicales which Prof. Fenv.-lck will give dur ing the winter. Tho West Side Choral association will ren der a sacred caut.'ila entitled the "Great Light," this evening at the Clinton Avenue M. E. church. The principal part, will be taken by Mr. Rhys-Herbert, R. Ged-des, and Miss M. L. Walte. R. Leak is director. Anew / i f fe% __^ VyV* COLLAR