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r4# MEN rk m it Won't bny clothing for the purpose of 41) /t/h1 II ' spending money. They deeire to get the \fl Hi// I beet possible results of the money expended. ™ Imif \ W \lf Those who bnv cnstom clothing have a IE 7 I- to ''emend a fit. to have their clothes Ami.' V A II correct iD sty 1a and to of tre / sli*' seller *o tnaran'ee everything. Come to ~ *■' 'j have just received a large stock of Spring 'J\ ' and Summer snitiogs in the latest styles, \ IMI t shades and colors. \fflp| j G. F. KECK, «•" "Wo i "VMERCHANT TAIfeOR, M J» my 142 N.Mali. St., s»tNr, Pa THE MODERN STORE. Extraordinary Display of WHITE GOODS. Prices That Will Captivate The Fair Sex. Just opened this week the largest line of white goods ever shown in this store. We have all the newest weaves and patterns suitable for shirt waists and suits, children's dresses, etc. Some exquisite patterns in dimities, Swisses, fancy P. K's and very handsome things in mercerized effects at special prices as follows From 7c to 12 1-2 c per yard. From 15c to 50c per yard. Bec our special lines at 25c per yard. Hundreds of new patterns in ginghams, percales, galatea cloths, seersuckers, madras, etc. The new mercerized dress linens in white and colors for shirt waist suits will be very popular. COMB BEFORE THE RUSH BEGINS. EISLER-MARDORF COHPANY, SOUTH MAI* STRICT j f\f\4 ISSIZt&E?' I"I Samples sent on request. OPPOSITE HOTEL ARLINGTON. BUTLER. PA. /We Wish to Announce^ ) That we have now In stock and ready for your inspection / \ the finest line of spring clothing ever shown in Butler. \ / When we tell you that the I. HAMBURGER & SONS r J Suits, Overcoats, Top Coats and Rain Coats are here ? ) nothing more need be said. ? \ Our crack line of boys' and children's spring suits ✓ V and top coats are on display. For quality, taste and style, f / the Skolney make of boys' knee-pant suits and top coats ? j are worthy of a place with I. Hamburger's clothing for v I men. J > Fine lot of hats for spring wear just in. C 5 We still continue our discount sale on heavy goods / / for the beneft of those who have not had the opportunity ) )of attending this sale in the past. Remember, only a S L few days more. t / Watch for window display of spring clothing and hats, r . | Bouthett & Graham, j J INCORPORATED ( WHY ABE YOU SITTIHG UP ALL NIGHT FULING COAL WHEN YOU CAN GET AN EVANS GAS OROASOLINE ENGINE WITH REVERSIBLE CLUTCH PULLEY, ■I * mm. ■ CwLMI n IT WILL PULL RODS ii\iijynL n M ,tw|ll pulltlb,n(j it will I WELLS WITH , B UP THE OAS IT TAKES TO PIRE A mm/ WRITE FOR CATALOGUE. THE EVANS MFG. CO , LTD, BDTLEB, PA. ; I Jfr $ H J. Q. & W. CAMPBELL, I II AGENTS FOR BUTLER. H fi Cypher's Incubators and Brooders also Poultry a; • t Supplies and International Stock Food. iti jjiMj CALL FOR CATALOGUE. ,«$ BUTLEK, PA. T L , ■ _ - - . _. . —— H Fall and Winter Millinery. '» I) :: j Arrival of a large line of Street Hats, Tailor-made tand ready-to-wear Hats. All the new ideas and designs in Millinery Novelties. Trimmed and Un- 6 trimmed Hats for Ladies, Misses and Children. All i the new things in Wings, Pom pons; Feathers, £ £ 1 1 Ostrich Goods, etc, etc. j £ ]? Rockensteln's | j* MillirLery Emporiumjs K 888 B<inlh Main Street, - .... Butler, Pr. yf iaioiaioiiiigiaiaiipipiiiaiiiigiiiiiimiiiiiiinigriiiiimiiil THE BUTLER CITIZEN. sr™ || WICK'S jSpring Hats; i; for men j i; are here. j ? The best ever j j shown in > | Butler. | jSee our windowj jjno.S.Wick,j W HATTER AND FURNISHER, # # Peoples Phone, 615. # i BUTLER, PA. } Beef. and Iron Wine This preparation is famous as a sys tem builder and general tonic Onr preparation differs from all others of the same name. be< anse we use pre digested beef, the best sherry wine, and the iron is in sach form that it is quick ly taken into the system. It is pleasant to take and prompt in action, making rich, red blood. Do You Require a Tonic? Are yon weak, worn ont, ran down and nervous? Is your blood thin and impure? Are yon pale and haggard, lips white? Do yon become exhausted from every little effort, your sleep rest less, your appetite poor? If you have any of these symptoms u»e onr Beef, Iron and Wine. If the result is not satisfactory we will gladly return your money. Price. 50 cents a pint NURSES DIRECTORY. THE Crystal Pharmacy R. M. LOGAN, Ph. G., BOTH PHONES. 106 N. Main St., Butler, Pa. } YOUR MONEY BACK 7 ? IF NOT SATISFIED S We have a line of remedies put C r np under onr own label such as / J a Cold Cnre, Blood Purifier, t S Dyspepsia Tablet, Headache Cnre, J € etc., which we sell upon a guar- V J antee or money refunded. J N Just now the sale on our C > Cough Syrup < f leads that of all other cough C N syrups combined. » C TRY IT FOR YOURSELF. £ < 25c, 50c 7 5 Redick & Grobman < ) 109 North Main St., > \ Butler, Pa. i /■wwwwnaa^A THE IDEAL [FF^! is said to be un- ||| Ljl| attainable. But ||| $$ selves that we have came.prettyjj|||p^ }>. PHOTOGRAPHS in our sample Sxjj&M albums include some portraits which will bear L' | and look at them at your leisure. \/M i nice it would be fejljjL j j| to be in such al|i|lyM Mr handsomecollec- m j ''ljH ZUVEFL'S STUDIO, 215 S. Main St., Butler. WM. WALKER. L'HAS. A. MCELVAIN. WALKER & McELVAIN, iW)7 Butler Connty National Bank Bldg. HEAL ESTATB. INtfUItANOE. OIL PROPERTIES. LOANS. BOTH PHONES PROFESSIONAL CARDS. PHYSICIANS, T C. BOYLE, M. D. i'J • EYK, EAU, N'OSK AM', THROAT, SPECIALIST. 121 East Cunningham Strut. Office Hoars 11 t > 12 a. m.. 3 ts> 5 nutl i 7 to 9 p. in. BOTH TELKPHOWRS. UK. JULIA fc: FOSTER, ; I ' CSTKIIPATH. Consultation and examination free. Office hoars—9 to 12 A M . 2 to M., daily except Snnday Evening appointment. Office—Stein Block, Rooms 9-10, But ler. Pa. People's Phone 478. CLARA E. MORROW. I). 0.. GRADUATE BOSTON COI.LEGK OF OSTEOPATHY. Women's disease* a specialty. Con sultatian and examination free. Office Hours, 9to 12 111., 2 to 3 p. m People's Phone 573. 1/6 S. Main street, Uutier. Pa GM. ZIMMERMAN • PHYSrCIAN AND SURGnON At 327 N. Main St. J R. HAZLETT. ■(. D„ Lit ro6 West iJiamond, Dr. Graham's former of^ce. Special attention to Kye. No«r and Throit People's Phone 274. OAMUELM. BIPPUS, U PHYSICIAN AND SURG.'O.N 200 West C"nningharrj St. DENTISTS. DR. FORD 11. HAYES, DENTIST Graduate of Dental Department, University of Pennsylvania Office—2ls S. Main Street, Butler, Pa DR. S. A. JOHNSTON. SCRGEON DENTIST. Formerly of But ler, Has located opposite Lowry House, Main St., Butler, Pa. The finest work a (specialty. Expert painless extractor of te» th by bis new method, no medi cine used or jabbing a needle into the gums; also gas and ether used. Com munications by mail receive prompt at tention. DR J. WILBERT McKEE, SURGEON DENTIST. Office over Leighuer's Jewelry store, Butler, Pa Peoples Telephone 505. A specialty made of gold fillings, gold crown and bridge work. \\' J HINDMAN, ] 1 . DENTIST. 12 'i South Main street, (ov Metzer's shoe store.) DR. H. A. MCCANDLKSS, DENTIST. Office in Butler County National Bank Building, 2nd floor. f\R. K D. KCTTRABA, 1/ Successor to Dr. Johnsion. DENTIST Office at No 114 L. Jefferson St., over 0 W. Miller's grocery ATTORNEYS. RP. SCOTT, • ATTORNF.V-AT-LAW, Office in Butler Connty Natioral Bank building. AT. SCOTT, » ATTORNEY AT LAW. Office at No. 8. West Diamond Ht. But ler, Pa. COULTER & BAK.hR, V ATTORNEYS ',*w. Office in Butler Connty National Bank building. TOHN W. COULTER, fJ ATTORNBY-AT-LAW. Office on Diamond, Butler, Pa. Special attention given to collection and business matters. T D MCJUNKIN, TF • ATTORNEV-AT-LAW. Office in Reiber building, cornel Main nn-1 E. Cunningham Sts, Entrance on Main street 1 B. BREDIN, TJ • ATTORNEY AT LAW. Office on Main St. near Court Hons* 11 H. GOUCHER, •1» ATTORNEY AT LAW. Office In Wise bail dim;. EH. NKGLEY • ATTORNEY AT LAW. Office In the Negley Building, West Diamond. WC. FINDLEY, • ATTORNEY-AT-LAYV, AND PENSION ATTORNEY. Office on South aide of Diamond, Bntler, Pa. MISCELLANEOUS. F. L. McQUISTION, V. Civil. ENGINKKR AND SURVKYOR Office near Court House. LP. WALKER, • NOTARY PCBI,IC, BUTLKR, Office with Berirmer, next door to P. O BF. HILLIARD, • GENERAL SURVEYING. Mines and Land. County Surveyor. R. F D. 49, West Snnbury, Pa. L. 9. McJCJNKIN. IRA McJCN'KIN' OEO. A. MITCHELL. b S /WcJUNKIN & CO., Insurance 8c Real Estate 117 E Jefferson St. SOTfcER,.- - - - VA CATARRH Y°RK\ ELY'S CREAM BALM This Remedy Is n Specific, Bure to Clvo Satisfaction. GIVES RELIEF AT ONCE. It cleanses, soothes, heals, and protects the diseased membrane. It cures Catarrh and drives away a Cold in the Head quickly. Restores the Senses of Taste and Smell. JCasy to nso. (Contains no injurious drugs. Applied into the nostrils and absorbed. Large Siz<\ f>o r r rits at Druggists or by mail; Trial Size, 10 cents by mail. ELY BROTHERS, &6 Warren St., New York. BUTLER, PA., THURSDAY, MARCH 16, 1906. Rich Man, , Poor Man! ay KLITII GORDON CopyrifiKi. 1904, by K. Before they reached tLe til st 1 til go overlooking Sausalito u mist like float ing globules of crushed pe::rl rolled noiselessly through tlie fissures of the bills and blotted out the village, the bay and the towers aud chimneys of San Francisco —in other words, the world. In the damp air the girl's hair curled more distractingly than ever. Never had he seen it when it framed the low forehead in so bewildering an arabesque of rings and curves and waves. "You look rather swell yourself," she laughed in response to his eloquent glance of approval. "Knickers aud a Norfolk cap and the Jacket aren't half bad on you. Taken In connection with your cleft chin." she went on. throw ing her head back aud screwing up her eyes critically, "they make you a very preseutable youth iudeed." "We won't talk about that," was the terse reply. "This walk to Point Boui ta has an object." She opened her eyes wide. "Certainly," she assented politely. "Point Bonita, for instance. If It has any other object," she went on sternly, "if you're going back to that old sub ject, I won't go a step farther." By this time they were moving in the midst of a cloud. It was his turn to be innocent "You mean —oh." with a fine imita tion of Impatience, "doesn't a girl ever forget it if a fellow h;ts once happened to fancy himself in love with her and said so?" The pink of the girl's cheeks—it had the soft, furred look that is responsi ble for the slang adjective "peachy"— deepened suddenly, unaccountably. Out of the tall of his eye the youth observed this Interesting fact with cruel glee, reflectlug with a pang that he should have chosen diplomacy as a vocation instead of engineering. "You should forgive and forget the sins of my youth," he resumed. "You know you Insisted that you would al ways be the best of friends, and that's what I need now!" "You change quickly enough, I must say!" she remarked with some heat. "It Isn't six months since"— "Since what?" he challenged. But she turned away and did not reply, while the walls of mist lazily closed in nearer and nearer. "What do you want to tell me?" she questioned at last in an oddly subdued manner. He did not answer imme diately, but swung on ahead of her In the narrow path as if he were making a way for her through the mist. So he had got over his love for her. She felt n shuddering sense of desolation. Still, she argued, she could scarcely have supposed he would go on caring, es pecially since she had explained to him with judicial carefulness that she must marry a man witli money on account of her mother and the younger girls. Strangely enough, though she had pictured herself as married to another, there had always been a somber, in teresting figure hovering In the back ground of that picture, one to whom she meant to be so kind, so gentle, so all sweet, that his regret should become like a beautiful, sad song—to be wept over aud enjoyed. Aud now the brute was asking her to "forgive and forget" that he had ever told her that he loved her! They had reached the summit of a hill, and he proposed that they sit down upon a convenient bowlder to rest be fore attempting the next one. Ap parently her silence was unnoticed. "V'oll see, fate's been telling off my buttons lately," he began In a business like tone, "and the decree is that It has got to be money!" "What do you mean?" "Rich woman, poor woman, beggar woman, squaw," he elucidated, touch ing the buttons on his jacket, "and the lot falls to rich woman every time. It seems u beastly thing to think of— marrying for money. 1 would be a cad enough to do It, but the tiling is that there's a girl—a mighty line girl—and I really—l—hang It, I like her! But how am I to tell whether It's the real thing or whether Jjer money has some thing to do with it? You see, there are reasons why I should have money right away, long before I can hope to gain It by my own efforts. The governor is breaking down, and his affairs are in bad shape, and there are the two kids and mother to provide for." The girl's heart was sinking as the mercury does in a failing temperature. All the joy of living seemed to be ooz ing away through her finger tips, leav ing her cold and Inert. lie turned to ward her curiously. "Of course you don't think I'd con sider such a thing if I were not forced to it by duty!" lie went on fervently. "And I came f.i you because I thought you'd understand, because circum stances are forcing you into the same thing. They say you're going to mar ry Bradshaw. You'll be a rich wom an and a happy one, I hope; but, wheth er you are or not, you will have done vour duty by the family. That will be four consolation, and that's why I come to you in my difficulty. What do you think—can I decently ask the girl to marry me? Remember, I like her, but I'm not sure I love her!" The fog, which had seemed about to crush them softly a few moments be fore, was now falling back, but they were still in a remote world. With the very sight of habitations cut off from their view It was hard to believe In the reality of purple and fine linen, horses and carriages and gold. Suddenly the scales fell from the girl's eyes, though she realized with a pang that It was too She had put the only thing that mattered out of her life as thoughtlessly and carelesifly as she would toss a pebble from her path. She had not even realized what she was doing. Down below, where the Bradshaw fortune cast Its glamour, everything had looked different. She had thought that with money all things else must fall Into place. But here, cut off from the world, the Bradshaw wealth seemed less than nothing and love the only thing. . Farther and farther the fog receded, showing thin In spots, but still con cealing the valley beneath them. But she was very sure now. Even when the world assumed its old proportions it would be the same. She had had her lesson. The peachblow tint was gone from her cheeks, and her eyes were grave and unglrllsh as she spoke. "I'm not going to marry Grant Brad shaw," she said steadily, "nor any other man whom I don't love. So you see I can't help you after nil; I don't think I could evpr i4*ully have meant to do such a thing"— Her voice broke, and the eyes that had been looking into his with a plead ing stronger than unv words suddenly filled with tears. "I'm such a silly," she explained rather unevenly, "but 1 hate to be ac cused of such a thing. Aud 1 think you ought to be ashamed. Jack! You're : a man and you can make money for yourself at:d"— But he seemed to be paying no at tention to her words. With deep ab sorption he was naming the buttons of her coat as if he were consulting an j oracle. "Rich man, poor man, beggar man, 1 chief," he chanted. "Doctor, lawyer, merchant, thief. Rich man, poor man!" he stopped, looking anxiously for an other button, but there was none there. "You see!" she gibed triumphantly. "Perhaps you've made a mistake in your own case too." Aud, with a de mure face, she counted the buttons. "Poor woman!" she announced, and then something in his glance brought the bloom back to her face and her head went down upon his shoulder. The thin places in the fog gave way. leaving two jagged spaces that framed a beautiful picture. Dowu below the sun was shining on the blue waters of the bay, on the trees and hedges, among which nestled the houses of the town. The girl caught her breath. She felt as if it were a benediction, a revela tion of the peace of the years to come. "But what about our families?" she asked In a troubled voice when the mist had blotted out the pictures once more. He laughed joyously. "See that?" be said, holding out a brawny right arm. Fact anil Fiction. When the celebrated John Tlmbs of anecdote fame was subeditor of a Lon don newspaper he one day commission ed one of the staff to accompany the hop pickers in Kent and to write for the Journal an absolutely veracious ac count of his experiences. The faithful scribe to whom the task was intrusted performed his Job with scrupulous care, and, attired as a hop picker, he spent a whole week among his temporary comrades. In due course he returned to the ed itorial office and produced his copy. Timbs read a portion of It and then burst into a great rage. "This won't do at all. Mr. Smith," he exclaimed furiously. "Surely you must know this is far too coarse for insertion in our paper." "I was afraid that might be the case," calmly replied the reporter. "Do you think this Is better?" Saying this, he handed Timbs another manuscript. Timbs perused it and was delighted. "The very thing; charming!" he ex claimed. "Ah, I thought you would like that!" said Smith. "That Is what I wrote before I set out."—London Standard. "Barnlnflc the Water." Some readers will remember the spir ited account given by Scott in "Guy Mannering" of the form of salmon fish ing that used to be known as "burning the water." It was u favorite amuse ment in England, Scotland and Wales. The practice U no longer legal aud can be indulged In only at the risk of pen alties, with the disgrace which at taches to things denounced as -un sportsmanlike. Torches were used, and tlie salmon were spenre<l by the thrust of a weapon having barbed prongs, called a leister. Scott again may be quoted for his description of the spear ing of salmon from horseback in the Solway. The Tweed, which was the river of his lifelong affections, was one of the worst sufferers from "burn ing the water" in the days when it was permitted, aud it was computed lhat thousands of salmon were annual ly taken by this form of capture. Tlie water may be "burned" even now here and there, and in Wales a few years ago there was a short lived revival of the practice. Mllo nf Creton. Of the wonderful athletes of nil ages Milo of Creton Is perhaps the most known. He once ran a mile with an ox on his shoulders, then with a blow of his fist killed the beast and ate it in one day. The strongest man could not take from Mllo a pomegranate which lie held between his two lingers. He could break by contracting his veins and muscles a tyrd tied around his forearm. One day, being in a house with some pupils of Pythagoras, the ccllin/; threatened to fall in, but Milo supported the column on which it rest ed, thus glvlnx his friends time to es cape. His death is well known. He tried to tear asunder the trunk of a tree, but his hands got pinched In the wood, and, being unable to disengage them, he perished, devoured by wild beasts. ilnlf or Two-ttilrd*. The bishop of Kensington at a prize distribution recently told of a case in which a boy got the better of the ex aminer. "Suppose," asked the exam iner, "I offered you half an orange and two-thirds of an orange, which piece would you take?" "Please, sir, the half!" shouted the lad. "Stupid boy!" exclaimed the examiner. "I shall put a black mark against you for that." Subsequently a deputation of scholars waited on the examiner to convince him that he was wrong. "Why am I wrong?" he inquired. "Because Tom my does not like oranges at all," was the conclusive answer.—St. James' Ga zette. lVrnipapem, It has been calculated that taking the population of the whole world, there Is one newspaper to every 82,(500 persons. The United States supports 12,500 newspapers, of which 1,000 are dallies, these being rouud figures. Oor muny has ft,500 Journals, of which 800 are dally. England takes second place In the European record with 3,000 newspapers, of which 809 are dally. France has nearly the same number. Gxcanv Ma ill- F./mj'. "Why do sa many actors Insist OD playing Shakespeare?" "I suspect," answered Mr. Storining ton Barnes, "that It's because they can take all the credit if they succeed and blame the public's luck of literary tnsle If they fall."—Washington Star. Not lp to llliu. "Yes," said the fireman, "there wero two men In the building playing chess, and one of them Is in the ruins yet. We couldn't get him out." "Why, how was that?" "He Insisted that it wasn't his move." Stnrtliiß n lion, Orayce—They tell me she's not n bit pretty. What docs *he look like, any how? Gladys Well, my dear, she re sembles you as much as anybody I know.—Louisville Courier-Journal. Cnlirenkakle. "Now, yo* lookey heali, yo' George, (Joan' yo' fall down an' break dem nigs." "I couldn't break uui nohow. Ixry Is Plymouth Hock aigs, dey Is." It Is possible to repeal a law, but not . a banana.—Philadelphia Record. In an Opera j Box j! By Lilian C. Paschal |, Copuitfiht. 1904. bu Lilian C. Pischil j The great hotel facing the park was an obelisk of light flecks. Motor ears came and went noisily under the wide porte cochero. Back of the large hostelry and across a narrow alley a white girlish face banked with pillows looked out wist fully from the one narrow window of a third lloor back at these evidences of life and gayety, listening to the or chestra. Suddenly the music burst into a wild tropical air from "Carmen." a very revel of life and youth and lusty, red blood ed joy. The Invalid buried her tired eyes in the soft pillows, and her thin shoulders shook. Shaken by the tem pest of sobs, a crutch that had been leaning Hgalnst the bedside rattled to the floor. "Oh, I can bear their old ragtime things without a shiver," she cried, "but the opera airs—they break my heart! And now I shall never sing them again—l know I shan't!" The incoherent cry went straight through the open window like a wing ed arrow, across the alleyway In the grand hotel, and lodged deep In the sick heart of a listener there. Its note of suffering and aching longing needed no Interpreter. That is a universal lan guage understood alike in palace and tenement. John Wixton had been staring mood ily out of the darkened shadows of his unlighted room into the still darker shadows of a future that looked gloomy indeed to his usually careless, sunny eyes. He had been hard hit — there was no doubt of that—and the girl's refusal of him had cut deep. He had been so sure of her—too sure, per haps—but he had thought he could not be mistaken In that warm light In her eyes that had set his heart on fire all these weeks. "The light that lies in woman's eyes and lies and lies and lies!" he sneered miserably, sitting there In the dark. "Curse the whole sex, anyway, and their deceitful wiles!" And his clinched hands thnmped the window sill fiercely. He had mooned over her like a maundering idiot, he told himself hotly, and now she was engaged, so her mother had told him the last time he called, to Billy Lunders and his mil lions—principally the latter, be thought Lord! There was that beastly cban sonnette from "Carmen" again—could he never escape the thing?—the song that breathed so horribly of her in every seductive note. She had worn a red rose in her hair, too, that night he first met her with the Van Lorns. lie could smell that rose now. Tonight "Carmen" was on the bill again. He recalled dully that he had the same box for this performance, In tending to take her and show her he remembered that first night BO long ago. She had said men always forgot the dates a woman remembered. He had meant to tell ber of his loving lit tle surprise that evening. Was It only a week ago? How could he ever bear to hear an opera again? Curse It. He wotlld get out of this sickening old New York and go west—to Chicago—any where. "These opera airs—they break my heart!" broke In the sobbing cry from the window across the alley. John raised bis head to listen. "Same here, kid," he muttered heavily. "It's that lame girl—poor little beggar! She does have a devil of a time of it, lying there all day with hot water bags and things around her. It's a shame!" "I want to l>e back there on the stage again," went on the voice, "sing ing with the rest of the chorus. I was a village maiden in 'Carmen,' you know, Mrs. Beebe." To the conscious pride in this already well known fact there came an indistinct murmur of consolation from the dark Interior of the little room. "And maybe some day I might have been a Sembrich or a Melba. my own self—the master snid so—and now my back's hurt, and I'll never sing again. I know it! If I could only go Just once and henr It all again I think maybe I could bear It better, but to be penned In here all the time like a rat with the snappers of a trap caught over his back—it's too" The rest was lost In the infolding pillow. The man in the darkened window across the way suddenly stood up, turned on the light and squared his shoulders like a soldier ready for marching. "I'll do It!" lie said grimly. "I'll not run away like a coward. I'll face this thing out. I've got to go through it some time, and I might as well begin now. I'll go right to that same box and Unlit it out. And, what's more, I'm going to take that child along. She'll probably look a fright, and people will stare, but bang the people!" He took his hat and overcoat and hurried from the room. At the office he stopped to give an order for an auto cab. Twenty minutes inter he was bowling toward Broadway with his strange lit tle compnulon, still breathless over the wondrous angel In evening clothes whose determination had carried all opposition before him. Even the fat landlady had boon subdued Into defer ence and helped to dress her quickly so as not to keep the young gentleman waiting. Wlxton glanced down at her thin lit tle face, sharpened by suffering; at her two crutches and her simple white frock. To his surprise, she appeared tastefully gowned. She told hlni quite simply, with a lit tle pathetic quaver In her voice, about her ambition to be u great singer; how Ihe had fallen through n trapdoor left curelessly open by the stage hands one night after the opera was over and had been In the charity ward of a hospital, where tboy had not seemed able to cure lier; how she could walk only a little way without hurting. When they reached the opera house the first net was nearly over. Wlxton gathered up her slight form and strode up the wide stairway as If his burden were a baby. At the door of the box he halted. It was slightly ajar. "Sold the other seats?" he ques tioned of the usher. "Only one to a lady," answered that worthy ami volunteered further tho whispered Information that she was a queer one—"came with a party In the fourth box farther down and came out 111 and went away. After a bit she came back with a ticket for a seat In this one." When Wlxton ushered his charge Into the box he found, to his surprise, that the place was unllgbted. Tho curtain had Just climed on the first act, and the solitarj' occupant was shrinking into the farthest corner as though seeking to avoid observation. John reached out to pre** the electric button and turned in the blaze of light to confront the woman who had re fused hliu the week Itefore. His lips • tightened, aud his face went white. '•Eunice! You here?" The woman turned a lo.vi, k ..ie face up to him entreatlngly without speak ing. This unlooked for contretemps bad destroyed ber poise, woman of the world though she was. and left her as excited and embarrassed as a school girl. There were traces of tears about | the dark eyes, hollow from sleepless ness. Her soft white throat worked in the stress of emotion, and her bosom rose and fell pantlngly. | At last she found her voice. It was low and tremulous, and at the thrilling sweetness of it the man's heavy heart pounded like a mad thing behind bis Immaculate shirt front. "Jack," she whispered, "If you don't forgive mc and love me I shall die. I never dreamed till mamma made me send yon away how dreadfully I cared, and I never was engaged to Billy Laun ders at all. I couldn't be—not if the whole family rose up to slay me." The orchestra began the overture to the next act. The wild, gypsy motif of the immortal opera rose and bathed them In its melting torrents of love made into music. The little cripple was leaning over the edge of the box wait ing breathlessly for the curtain to rise on the familiar scene she loved. "Jack, darling—hear it! That music has been killing me till you came! Do you remember that night we"— John reached out an audacious thumb and pressed the button on the wall. As the box was enveloped in darkness he crushed her close in his arms, unable to say one word. On their way home In the carriage, when Eunice had been told the little cripple's story, she laughed tenderly In her new found joy, so nearly lost, and, with one Jeweled hand In John's and the other caressing the young girl's pale cheek, said with a confidence that the future proved not unfounded: "I shall take care of her, her voice, her future and her back. I know a great doctor who can straighten out this little one's tangles, even as she has been the means of unsnarling the dreadful knot in my web of fate." Barry Snlllvan and the Amatear. The famous tragedian, Barry Sulli van, took his art so seriously that it was very seldom Indeed that he perpe trated a joke on the stage, althougn when away from the theater he was one of the most humorous of men. On one occasion, however, Sullivan could not resist the temptation of giving an apt retort to an amateur who, as Bat cliff to bis Bichard 111., had quite overlooked the necessity of committing his words to memory. "During the early part of the trag edy," says Mr. Bobert M. Slllard In his "Life of Barry Sullivan," "this too confident amateur strutted agreeably and elicited applause from his friends In the front In the tent scene he screwed up his energies, and when Sullivan, as Richard, started (. .ai his knees at the conclusion of his com ments on his dream, exclaiming, 'Who's there?' Batcliff in his excite ment stammered out the answer: "' "Tls I, my lord The early village cock'—and then abruptly stopped, hav ing apparently forgotten the next line— L e., 'Hath twice done salutation to the morn.' "Sullivan surveyed the stultified as pect of bis officer for a few seconds with a sardonic grin, as if enjoying bis agony, and nt length growled out in an audible tone: " 'Why don't you crow, then?"" Knrtarlns s Cheerful Spirit. Lucky was the patient in Cedarvllle who could secure the services of Aunty Bond as his nurse, but be must make up his mind that while all his wants would receive due attention and he would have a fair amount of coddling there were some things in which be could not count on having his own way. "Now, you Just take that look off your face, won't you?" she half coaxed, half commanded a man who was re covering from pneumonia. "You aren't half as sick as you were a month ago. Let your thoughts dwell on that, and let 'em dwell on this: There's lots o* folks outdoors a-falling from the tops o' buildings and a-getting run Into and rer by automobiles and contraptions Of all sorts, besides those that are yielding to temptation o' various kinds and being sent to jail and then to states prison. And while all these dreadful things are going on outside, what is happening to you? You are getting well at home, in peace and plenty, and, what's more, in as handsome a walnut bedstead as there Is In all Cedarvllle. "You let your mind dwell on these things a minute, and then you turn over and go to Bleep." TWENTY YEARS' SLEEP. Rip Van Winkle's Or.se Mny Hare Been More Pact Tlinn Fletton. Even superficial students of folklore know that the tale of Ulp Van Winkle, supposing that Irving really heard it in the old Dutch settlements along tho Hudson, Is by no means peculiar to that district, but is found in some form or other all over the world. In other words, the idea that It Is possible for a human being to survive in a state of unconsciousness for a very long time would seem to be either a universal fancy or to be founded on some actual experience. Dr. Lancereaux in the Paris Bulletin of tho Academy of Medlclno reports such an experience, the case of a wo man who actually did, so far as intelli gent consciousness was concerned, sleep almost exactly twenty years. The patient, of a neurotic and hyster ical family, had always been delicate and nervous. On May 31, 1883, she was severely frightened and fell Into violent hysteria, which after twenty four hours passed Into unconscious ness. In this condition, interrupted ev ery month or six weeks by sudden con vulsive attacks, she lay until May 23, 1003, kept alive entirely by Injections of nourishment. On May 23 she was seized with hys teria similar to that at the beginning of her sleep, and the next day there was another convulsion. On May 25 she began definitely to recover con sciousness and by the next day was able to speak intelligently of events before her sleep and could also remem ber from day to day since her waking. Of happenings during her sleep, sucb os the drawing of some of her teeth, she knew nothing. On the evening of May 28 she died peacefully. Tho particular case is of Interest chiefly to the medical profession, but the genernl fact of survival In uncon sciousness for a vary long time shows how such talea as those of the Sleeping Beauty, the Seven Sleepers of Epheaus and Ulp Van Winkle, to mention only the most familiar examples, could hovo originated from actual experience and observation. Very likely such cases oc curred more than once. "Truth Is stranger than Action," runs the old saying. It Is undoubtedly more correct to say that fiction is merely en larged. reduced, distorted nnd other wise decorated fact and that without a fact within general knowledge from which to start Action could not exist. It Is entirely safe to conjecture that at some prehistoric period, sleeping not No, 11, out of doors, of course, bat under shef ter, and for many weeks and probably months, if not years, there was a Rlfc Van Winkle.—Chicago Inter Ocean. The BUI Was Sot In the Senate. One of Senator Frye's scintillation# as presiding officer, when the Philip pine bill was near its passage In ths senate, should not be lost to the world. Such measures, till perfected, are con sidered in committee of the whole, not In the senate, as the term goes. The distinction is of little popular sig nificance, but of great parliamentary, Importance. Senator Bacon, wishing to make * certain motion, was Informed that thai bill was not in the senate, but in com mittee of the whole. "Oh, I thought we were in the sen ate," replied Mr. Bacon. "We are in the senate," Mr. Frye re sponded, "but the bill is not"—Wash ington Post. Henry VIII. and Padding*. 31uff King lial, otherwise Henry. VIII. of England, was exceedingly fond of puddings. At one time he gave a certain Mistress Cornwallis a house in Aldgute for herself and her heirs for ever "in reward of fine puddings." la King Henry VIII.'s private accounts occur again and again entries of his rewards to different housewives fo« bringing him puddings. A typical in stance runs thus: "Item. The sams day paid to the wife that made ths king podlngs at Hampton corte, vis. vlljd." This would be about f 1.75, bu# Its value was much greater when ths entry was made. This love for "fins puddings" explains much in the fa miliar rotund figure of King Hal. A Matter of Gender. The English language Is supposed to be very simple In the matter of gen ders, but foreigners who triumphantly handle questions of gender of Inani mate things In their own language* often have their difficulties with ths English. A Frenchman recently cam® to grief over his English. "I fear I cockroach too much upon your tlmo, madame," he remarked politely to his hostess. "En-croach, monsieur," she smilingly corrected him. He threw up his hands In despair. "Ah, your Eng lish genders!" he sighed. OLD JAPANESE ARMORERS. •trans* Legends of the Temper and Keenness of Their SYrorila. The era "of the sword In Japan has given place to the rifle, but long before this period the exquisite art of the ori ental armorer was lost. We are told of a blade composed of 4,194,304 layer* of steel and polished so that the finest European polishing pastes only serve to scratch It. Few people have any Idea of the art used in fashioning these weapons. They doubtless appreciate the beauty of the sheath, handle aud guards, but to them a sword Is a piece of steel made to cut, and that is all. When the Japanese armorer forged a sword he did it as if it were a sacred thing, and indeed it was in his eyes. He forged the metal tenderly, with spe cial tools for each operation. He tem pered It with processes as secret as the confidences of the gods. He had his methods of securing in the metal most mnmlom «>IOT effects trad Of pTOOUC ing markings from an imitation of which the most expert armorers of Eu rope would recoil in despair. Strange legends are told of these old Japanese armorers. Masa-Mune, a gentle smith of the fourteenth century, could let fall a hair of the hard shelled adzukl bean across the edge of one of his swords, and it would be split in two, or, like Begin, he would stand the weapon up right in a little stream of water and let the current carry along a little scrap of paper, which, as it touched the edge of tho blade, would float away in halves. Of a different character was the fierce old Mura-Masa, who forged swords to the cry of "Tenka tulra!" (War to men!) and quenched each one in the warm blood of a fresh human victim. This so inspired the steel with endless thirst that it would cleave iron like bronze and bronze like a melon in the search of human life. If left too long in its scabbard it possessed its wearer with a fierce desire to kill, and If drawn only for display it would hash the fingers of the one who wielded it, be he ever so careful. So terrible wai the slaughter of these seinlhuman blades that their use was prohibited by one of the Tokugawa slioguns, aud thereafter they were forced to iungulsh in the sword racks. Minor smiths were content to pile up copper coins and display an edge unruffled after cleav ing the stack or to cut through a half inch copper bar, but the great master* smiled at such Jests. The same blade which in their case could split a hair or divide a Bilk scarf which a gentle breeze wafted against it could slice the iron or bronze like cheese. The Horse and the Donkey. The ancestors of the horse were ac customed to roam over the plains, where every tuft of grass or bush might conceal an enemy waiting to spring upon them. Under these cir cumstances they must often have saved their lives by starting quickly back or Jumping to one side when they came without warning upon some strange object. This is a habit which has not left the animal even after long years of domestication. On the other hand, the donkey Is de scended from animals which lived among the hills, where there were prec ipices and dangerous declivities, and from these conditions resulted his slowness and sure footedness. His an testors were not so liable to sudden at tacks from wild leasts and snakes. Besides, sudden and wild starts would have been positively dangerous to them. Consequently they learned to avoid the very trick which has been so useful to the horse. The habit of eutlng'thlstlee, which is peculiar aloue to the donkey, la also descended from these ancestors. In tho dry, barren localities which they iuhnblted there was often little food; hence they learned to eat hard, dry and even prickly plants when there wus nothing else. Compromises* Charles—She Is suing her late em ployer's estate for $.">0,000. Henry—On what ground? Charles—On the ground that on four different occasions ho said to her, "We are having fine weath er," with the accent on tho "we."— Brooklyn Life. A Brond Hint. The Barber (lathering customer and gazing out of window)—l tell you, sir, the man who Bhavcs himself keeps tho brend and butter out of some poor bar ber's mouth. The Customer (fiercely) - And Incidentally the lather out of his own!— Puck. A Bis Uorce, Mrs. Newrich (back from the honey moon in Switzerland)—Do you remem ber, dear, that lovely gorge up In the mountains? Mr. Newrich—l do. It was the squarest meal I ever ate. Self respect is the cornerstone of all virtue.—Sir John Herschel.