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x CONKY STILES.
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He Was aVeritable Concordance
of the Holy Scriptures.
As near as I could find out nobody
ever knew how uConky Stiles came to
knew so much of the Bible as he did.
Thirty years ago people as a class were
much better acquainted with the Bible
than folk are nowadays, and there
wasn’t another one of ’em in the whole
Connecticut valley from the Canada
line to the scund that could stand up
’longside of Conky Stiles and quote
Scripture. Well, he knew the whole
thing by heart, from Genesis, chapter
one, to the amen at the end of the Rev-
elati’on of St. John the Divine; that’s
the whole business in a nutshell!
His name wasn’t Conky; we called
him Conky for short. His real- name
was Silas Stiles, but one time at a Sun-
day school convention Mr. Hubbell,
the minister, spoke of him as a “verit-
able concordance of the Holy Scrip-
tures.” and so we boys undertook to
call'him Concordance, but bimeby that
name got whittled down to Conky, and
Conky stuck to him all the rest of his
"life; not a bad name for him, neither, -
as names go; heap more dignified than
Si!
My father always insisted that Conky
- got his start in the Scriptures in this
way: Conky’s folks lived for about five
years (while Conky was a boy) in the
old Ransom house.‘ Their next neigh-
bors were the Cooleys, and just over
across the road lived the Kelseys. May-
be you’ve heard of the Cooley-Kelsey
debate? No? Funny, isn’t it, how soon
folks forget events and epochs and
things! Fifty years ago nothin’ else
but the Cooley-Kelsey debate was
talked of in Hampshire county, and yet
here we are livin’ in this intelligent
state of Illinois, and it’s dollars to
doughnuts that half our people never
heard of Lawyer Kelsey or of Deacon
Cooley! : ‘
You see, the deacon was high up in
the Congregational church, and he be-
lieved in “baptyzo,” which is the
Greek for the Congregational doctrine
of sprinkling. Lawyer Kelsey had
never been converted and had never
made a profession, but, having a brother
who was a Baptist minister in Penn-
sylvania, he was counted with the
Baptists, too, and I guess he was a.
Baptist if he was anything, although,
like as not, he’d have said he was a
heathen if he thought he could get up
an argument by sayin’ it, for of all the
folks you ever saw Lawyer Kelsey was
the worst for keepin’ things stirred up.
One time Deacon Cooley and Lawyer
Kelsey come together an’ locked horns
on that word “baptyzo,” Lawyer Kel-
sey maintainin’ that the word wasn’t
or shouldn’t be “baptyzo,” but “bap-
tidzo,” and, as you know, of course,
there is as much difference between
“baptyzo” and “baptidzo” as there is
between a fog and a thunder shower.
Well, for about six months they had
it up hill and down dale, in all, the
meetin’ houses, and schoolhouses, and
vestry-rooms, and town halls in the
country, and it did beat all how much
learnin’ they got out of the books and
dictionaries, and ‘what long sermons
they made, and what a sensation there
was among the unbelievers as well as
the elect! I guess they’d have been
arguin’ yet if the freshet hadn’t come
and distracted public attention by car-
ryin’ away the Northampton bridge
and the Holyoke dam. _
It happened that 'while this theo-
logical cataclysm was at its height
Conky Stiles, being six years old,_was
born again, and, repentin’ of his sins,
made a profession of faith: And from
that time he never lapsed or back-
slided, but was always a conscientious
and devout follower, illustrating in his
daily walks (as Mr. Hubbell, the min-
ister, said) those priceless virtues which
had illuminated the career of ‘ his
Grandmother Cowles, a lady esteemed
not more by the elders for her piety
than by the younger folks for her
cookies and squash pies.
When Conky was eight years old he
got the prize at our Sunday school for
having committed to memory the most
Bible verses in the year, and that same
spring he got up-and recited every line
of .the Acts of the Apostles without
having to be prompted once. By the
time he was twelve years old he knew
the whole Bible by heart, and most of
the hymn book, too; although, as I
have said, the Bible was his specialty.
Yet he wasn’t one of your pale—faced,
studious boys; no, sir, not a bit of it!
He took just as much consolation in
playin’ three-.old-cat and barn ball and
hockey, as any of the rest of us boys,
and he could beat us all fishin’, al-
though perhaps that was because he
learnt a new way of spittin’ on his bait ]
from his Uncle Lute Mason, who was
considerable of a sport in those days.
Conky vas always hearty and cheery;
we all felt good when he was around.
Ive never minded that way he had of
quotin’ things from the Bible; we’d
get used to it, and maybe it was a de-
sii‘able influence. At any rate we all
liked Conky. ‘
But perhaps you don"t understand
what I mean when I refer to his way
of quotin’ the Bible. It was like this:
Conky, we’ll say, would be goin’ down.
the road, and I’d come out of the house
and holler: “Hello, there, Conky!
Where be you goin’?”
Then he’d say, “John 21:3”—that
would be all he’d say, and that would -
be enough; for it gave us to understand
that he was goin’ a-fishin’.
Conky never made a mistake; his
quotations were always right; he al-
ways hit the chaptcr and the verse sum .
pep the first time.
The habit grew on him as he got
older. Associating with Conky for fif-
teen or twenty minutes wasn’t much
different from readin’ the Bible for a
cou le of days,_except that there wasn’t
any manual labor about it. I gueSs
he’d have been a minister if the war
hadn’t come along and spoiled it all.
In the fall of 1862 there was a war '
meetin’ in the town hall, and Elijah
Cutler make :1. Speech urgin’ the men ,
folks to come forward and contribute .
their services—their lives, if need be—
' to the cause of‘freedom and right. We
were all keyed up with excitement, for
0 .
. ”L. Wag.
!
inext to Wendell Phillips and Henry
iWard Beecher, I‘guess Elijah! .Cutler
’ was the greatest orator that ever lived.
While we were shiverin’ and waitin’
for somebody to lead off, Conky Stiles
rose up and says: “First Kings, 19:
'20,” says he, and with that he put on
his cap and walked out of the meetin.
“Let me, I pray thee, kiss my father
and my mother, and then I will follow
thee.” ‘
That’s what Conky said—or as good
as said—and that’s what he meant,
too.
He didn’t put off his religion when
he put on his uniform. Conky Stiles,
soldier or civilian, was always a-livin’,
walkin’ encyclopedy of the Bible, a
human compendium of psalms and
proverbs and texts; and I had that
confidence in him that I’d have bet he
wrote the Bible himself if I hadn’t
known better, and to the contrary.
We were with McClellan a long spell.
There was a heap of sickness among
the boys, for we weren’t used to the
climate, and most of us pined for the
comforts of home. Looking back over
the thirty years that lie between this
time and that I see one figure loomin’
up, calm and bright and beautiful in
the midst of fever and suiferin’ and
privation and death. I see a homely,
earnest face radiant with sympathy
‘and love and hope, and I hear Conky
Stiles’ voice again speakin’ comfort
and cheer to all about him. We all
loved him; he stood next to Mr. Lin-
coln and Gen. ‘McClell an irf the hearts
of everybody in the regiment. .
They sent a committee down from
our town one Thanksgiving time to
bring a lot of good things and to see
how soon we were going to capture
Richmond. Mr. Hubbell, the minister,
was one of them. Deacon Cooley was
another. There was talk one time
that Conky had a soft spot in his heart
for the deacon’s eldest girl, Tryphena.
but Ialways allowed that he paid as
much attention to the other daughter,
Tryphosa, as he did to her eldest sister,
and I guess he hadn’t any more hank-
erin’ for one than he had for the other,
for when the committee come to go
home Conky says to Deacon Cooley:
“Well, good-by deacon,” says he, “Ro-
mans, 16:12.”
We had to look it up in the Bible be-
fore we knew what he meant.
“Salute Tryphena and Tryphosa, who
labor in the Lord”—that was Conky’s
message to the Cooley girls.
He wrote a letter once to Mr. Carter,
who was one of the selectmen, and he
put this postscript to it: “Romans,
16:6.” You see Mr. Carser’s wife had
been Conky’s Sunday school teacher,
and Conky did not forget to “greet
Mary, who bestowed much labor on
us.”
Down at Elnathan Jones’ general
store the other day I heard Elnathan
tell how Conky clerked it for him a
spell and how one day he says to
Conky: “That ,. Baker bill has been
runnin’ on for more’n six weeks. We
can’t do business unless we get our
money. Conky, Iwish you’d just kind
0’ spur Mr. Baker up a little.”
So Conky sat down on the stool at
the desk and dropped Mr. Baker a
short epistle to this effect: “Romans
1:14; Psalm 22:11; Psalm 142:6.” Next
day who should come in but Mr.
Baker, and he allowed that that
letter had gone straighter to his con-
science than any sermon would have
gone, and he paid up his bill and
bought a kit of salt mackerel into the
bargain, so Elnathan Jones says.
I could keep on tellin’ things like
this, day in and night out, for lots of
just such stories are told about Conky
all over Hampshire county now; some
of ’em doubtless are true and some of
’cm doubtless ain’t; there’s no tellin’;
but it can’t be denied that most of ’em
have the genuine Conky flavor.
The histories don’t say anything
about the skirmish we had with the
rebels at Churchill’s bridge along in
May of ’64, but we boys who were
there remember it- as the toughest fight
in all our experience. They were just
desperate, the rebels were, and—wéll,
we were mighty glad when night
came, for a soldier can retreat in the
dark witlrfewer chances of interrup-
tion. Out of our company of one hun-
dred and fifty men, only sixty were
left! You can judge from that of what
the fighting was at Churchill’s bridge.
When they called the roll in camp
next day, Conky Stiles wasn’t there.
Had we left him dead at the bridge,
or was he wounded, dying the more
awful death of hunger, thirst and neg-
lect?
“By I” says Lew Bassett, “let’s
go back for Conky!”
That was the only time I ever neard
an oath without a'feclin’ of regret.
A detachment of cavalry went out to
reconnoiter. Only the ruin of the pre-
' ceding day remained where the boys
1 had stood and stood and stood—only to
be repulsed at last. Bluecoats and gray-
coats lay side by side and over against
one another in the reconciling peace of
death. Occasionally a maimed body
containing just a remnant of life was
found, and one of those crippled bodies
was what was left of Conky.
When the surgeon saw the minie hole
here in his thigh, and the saber gash
here in the temple, he shook his head,
and we knew what that meant. ‘
Lew Bassett, a man who had never
i been to meetin’ in all his life, and who
i could swear a new and awful way
{every time—Lew Bassett says? “No,
l
l
m
'Conky Stiles ain’t goin’ to die, for I
shan’t let him!” and he bent over and
5 left up Conky’s head and held it, so,
5 and wiped away the trickles of blood,
I and his big hard hands had the tender-
3 ness of a gentle, lovin’ woman’s.
f We heard Conky’s voice once, and
fonly once, again. For when, just at
l the last, he opened his eyes and saw
that we were there, he smiled feeble
like, and the grace of the Book tri-
l umphed once more within him, and he
i says—it seemed almost like a whisper,
i110 spoke so faint and low: “Good-by,
. boys; Second Timothy,- 4:7.” ‘
,the Sublime truth of his last words
- shone from his white, peaceful face.
“I have fought a good fight, I have
,; finished my course, I have kept the
' faith.”—Eugene Field, in Chicago Rec~
0rd. . -
ground.
And then, though his light went out, '
REMARKABLE JAPANESE WOMAN
Continued Brilliant and Helpful Career
of Steimatz Rama Kana. .-
All college women of America must
feel an eSpecial pride in the career of
the charming Steimatz Rama Kano, one
of the three young Vassar women edu-
cated at Vassar college, 20 years ago,
by the Japanese government.
Private letters from the island em-
pire continue to bring interesting word
of this remarkable woman, the wife'
now of Marquis Oyama, one of the
heroes of the late war and beloved of
his nation. The marquise seems to be
fulfilling the prophecies of her class-
mates of two decades ago, who felt
that her personality must make an im-
print on her time. Intensely loyal to
her country, she yet left here thor-
oughly imbued with American prin-
ciples, and determined to aid in the
uplifting of her sex in Japan. Her
last words to her friends here were
to the effect that her ambition in life
henceforth was to enlighten and raise
her native sisters to the American
standard of education and dignity. Of
noble blood, her position, with her edu-
cation, has afforded her unusual op-
portunity to promote this desire. Her
home is the very essence of refinement,
with a decidedly foreign style as to
arrangement, though the gardens about
are royally Japanese. With three charms
ing children, Steimatz—for so her
classmates affectionately speak of her--
is dispensing a beautiful and uplifting
influence to all who come in contact
with her. While the war lasted her
practical work was constant. She sent
out from her own hands, aided by wom-
.en.Of all grades of society, enormous
quantities of carbolized gauze, with
great packages of other sanitary sup-
plies, to the seat of battle. She is pro-
moting many philanthropic schemes,
but none of them has she so much at
heart as the education of her sisters.
She is using the influence of her own
and her husband’s position to bring
about a change of native opinion con!
cerning Japanese women. Believing
firmly in education as the chief factor
in the elevation of women, in this direc-
tion she bends all her energies and argu-
ments. There is little question that
her early American education has
been, through her constant application
of it, the keynote to the growing lib-
eralit-y of the Japanese toward women.
and an American policy in general.
Her progressive spirit, was no transi-
tory notion, but a deep, underlying
conviction and motive of action, which
she has been able to direct upon. the
thought of her compatriots at a most
fortunate time—N. Y. Times.
HARVEST OF THE SEA.
A Peculiar Occupation Followed Off the
Coast of Ireland.
Along the northwest coast of Ireland.
on the borders of the Atlantic, dwells
a hardy race of men whose chief occupa-
tion, when not. engaged in fishing, con-
sists in the manufacture of “kelp.”
This “kelp” is of great commercial
importance, as from it is obtained near-
ly all our iodine—a body of vast use in
medicine.
During the winter months the kelp-
burners set out in their frail little “cur-
raghs” (small canoe-like boats about 12
feet long, made of canvas) and, proceed-
ing along the coast, fill the boats with
sea-weed, from which the kelp is made.
In this they are assisted by the women,
who, bareheaded and shoeless, take
their turn regularly at the ears, and
are almost as expert at it as the men.
After a storm is the time selected
for obtaining the seaweed, as by the
force of the waves it has been torn from
its bed and is cast in along thecshore-
in large quantities.
When the boats are laden, the sea-
wced is brought to a small creek, and
there placed in heaps out of reach of
the tide. From'this it is carried in crecls
on the backs of men and women to a
point further inland, where it has to u..-
dergo a process of drying.
The drying consists in exposing it to
the sun and wind. and the. better to do
this they have rows of loose. stones
laid about 20 yards in length and a
few feet in height. Along the tops of
these they scatter the seaweed.
The drying takes months, so that
spring is well advanced ere it is ready
for burning. his does not. matter,
however, as owing to the fuck—the peat
or turf got from the bogs at hand—not
being yet cut and dried (or “win" as
it is termed) it is summer before the
burning in the kilns can commence.
The kiln is a deep trench dug in the
Alternate layers of turf and
seaweed are laid in this until full, and
the whole is kept burning for about
three weeks, until it cakes together in
a large black mass resembling coke,
but much more solid and heavier. This
is the ‘e‘kelp.”
It is then broken into blocks about-
14 inches square and brought by boat
to the villages, where it is sold, to be.
shipped to more profitable markets.—
Boston Post. - i
: Southern Educational Advancements.
According to Prof. Alexander Hogg,
state manager of public schools in Tex-
as, whilethe south has gained 54 per
cent. in population in the last 20 years,
the increase in the enrollment of school
attendance has been 130 per cent. In
the same period the value of the school
property has increased from $16,000,000
to $51,000,000, an addition of nearly $2,-
000,000 per year. Of all the neople in
the south, white and black, one in five
is in attendance at school during some
part of the year. This is the proportion
in Saxony, which excels all countries
in Europe. It is estimated that of the
$320,000,000 expended for education in
the south in the last 18 ycars one-fourth
has been for the colored race—Detroit
Free Press.
Figures in Smoke.
A man, says a statistician, smoking a
pipe of medium size, blows out. of his
mouth for every time he fills his pipe. .
700 smoke clouds. If he smokes four
pipes a day for 20 years he blows out
20,440,000 smoke clouds—Detroit Free
Press. . . ,
AN AWKWARD' MISTAKE.
I have known Joan Forsyth from the
time when she were her hair about her
ears and her socks about her ankles.
She was Joan Langley then and until
she was20, when she married Charley
Forsyth, andwas sorry for her mistake
within the year. However, when he
of him with great affection; I could
not tell if it was genuine or prompted
by an artistic desire to make her man-
ners match her mourning. I believe it
was an unconscious mixture of pro-
priety and gratitiide. At any rate, she
remained unmarried for some time, and
lived by herself in a pretty little house
on the comfortable income her husband
had not had time to lose. I was wrong
in saying she lived by herself, for a
friend, or ecusin, or some old school-
fellow was always staying with her.
Joan is a popular and cheerful young
woman, and I have always been very
fond of her, but she has, or had, one
peculiarity which I could not appre-
ciate. Until she was a widow it was in
abeyance, but as soon as she put off
her first mourning and began to go
about and see her friends it developed
rapidly. She loved matchmaking. I
could never understand Why, for her
own experience of marriage had been
most unhappy. If she had been less
sweet-tempered I should have imagined
she was copying the fox who, having
lost his own trail, tried to persuade his
friends to follow his example. Once I
suggested to her that as marriages
were made in Heaven, and even then
were not always successful, she would
be wiser to leave them to be dealt with
in the usual way.
“You are quite wrong,” she said. “I
don’t know who said that silly thing
about Heaven and marriages; of course
it was a man, and of course he thought
he was saying something very clever.
but he really was talking nonsense.
Now there is Biddy Machin. She is
such a dear girl she deserves to be hap-
pily married.” .
“So you look on a husband as a re-
ward of virtue, no matter what he is
like?” ‘
We were sitting in her drawing-room
at teatime. Miss Machin, who was stay-
ing with her, had not come in, so we
‘ were enjoying our tea together; Joan
looked so contented, so oblivious of the
past, so determined to think well of
marriage as an institution that I could
not help laughing.
“How horrid you are, Jim!” she said.
“You‘re not a bit sympathetic; you
ought to be. glad to take an interest in
anyone and bother about them. Do you
think it is for my own pleasure I do it?
Do you think I enjoy having Mr. Stam—
ford always here, for instance?”
“0, Stamford! Is he to be a victim?”
I asked.
“I don’t know why you should call
him ‘a victim,’ " she said, coldly. “I
think he will be a most suitable hus
band for Biddy Machin. She is one of
the noblest girls I know, and has no
money, poor thing! So she must-
marry.”
“Why should Stamford provide: for
her?” I asked.
“He will be very fortunate if she lets
him. She is charming and pretty, and
he is well off, and a very good sort of
' man. It is an excellent match.”
“Does she think so ?” I asked.
“I have not asked. her. I have some
tact Jim. She likes him very much,
and she must marry some one. They
are very good friends.”
“I thought you intended young Sim-
mons for her. Why did you change?”
I said.
“He's not well off, you know. I found
he had only expectations, and very dis-
tant ones, so I think Mr. Stamford
will do much better."
“What a mercenary woman you are,
Joan!” I exclaimed. “Do you only
think of money in your matchmaking
schemes? How about lpve ?”
“0, love is such a temporary thing!”
she said, with a synical air. “Anyone
with an ounce of reason can get over an
attack of love in a month, and do very
well without it, but money you must
have.”
“And Stamford is to supply Miss
Machin with money instead of Ralph
Simmons giving her love. That is very
businesslike. When do you expect to
bring it off?”
“The engagement?” she asked.
“N o, the wedding. Surely you’ve got
beyond the engagement. Miss Machin
has been with you six weeks.”
“Yes, but these things can’t be hur-
ried,” she said, slowly. “I think Mr.
Stamford is only waiting for an oppor-
tunity to speak.”
“Surely you give him plenty,” I said,
with a laugh.
She blushed and said hastily: “You’re
not at all nice to-day, Jim. I don’t sec
anything to laugh at. I can’t help it
if the man won’t propose.”
“O, is that it? He won’t come to the
point?” '
“I wish you would be nicer,” she mur-
mured. ~
“Indeed, I will be nice,” I protested,
seeing she was really hurt. “Tell me
' about it.”
“There’s not much to tell. I saw
; from the first he was just the man for
Biddy, and she seemed to like him, and
' he is always very ready to come here,
: or go anywhere with us, and he brings
: flowers, and sweets, and things.”
i “For her?” I asked.
“Yes; atleast, for both of us, and
they are. very great friends, but—they
don’t get any farther. He sits here for
hours, and I make all sorts of excuses
‘ to leave them together, but when I
- come back I find them sitting opposite
"each other, just calmly talking; and
I sh-oudn't have thought he was a. shy
man.” ' .
“He certainly never struck me as be-
ing shy,” I said.
“Then he must be a fool,” she said,
crossly. “I am always talking to him
about Biddy, and how sweet she is at
home; I've all but asked him to pro-
‘ pose toher, and he only smiles, and
agrees with everything I say. Never .
died about three years later she'spoke‘
WEEKL Y’v- Non-WALK": GAZETTE.
mind, I’m determined he shall marry
her, and I always get my way.”
“Like all pretty women,” said I; “but
take care! matches are dangerous
things to play with, and some day you
will get your fingers burnt.”
' “N onsense! I know whatIam about.
If I approved of betting, I would bet
anything that Philip Stamford pro-
poses to Biddy within a week.”
I arose to go as the door opened to
admit a visitor. “Mr. Stamford,” said
the maid. I smiled and glanced at J can,
but she was back to the light and did
not notice me. Half way down the
street I came on Miss Machin walking
with a tall youth whom I recognized
as the undesirable Simmons. As they
did not see me and it was no business
of mine, I passed on...’
It was a week before I heard of Joan. -‘
Then I met young Simmons looking so
unusually cheerful that I wanted to ask
him what good fortune had come to him,
but civilization forbade such inquiries
of acquaintances. After mentioning
the weather, he said with some confu-
sion: “It was a pity you missed Miss
Forsyth’s river party. We had a ripping
day.” ‘
“Where? When?” Iexclaimed.
“Last Wednesday. She said
asked you.”
she’d
“Yes, but I didn’t know she had asked
you,” I said, blunt-1y.
He blushed a little; he is a fairly in-
genuous youth and has not outgrown
the trick.
“Well, you see,” he said, “she didn’t
exactly ask me, but I heard she was
going, and I happened to be there.
That’s how it was.”
“0, you happened to hear, and be
there? That’s very curious,” said I,
looking at him, gravely, and he blushed
more than ever, tried to speak, failed,
and left me in a hurry.
I wondered what had been the result
of the party, and that afternoon I went
to find out. The maid left me in the
hall, saying she would see if her mis-
tress would see me. I am so used to
making myself at home in Joan’s house
that the girl’s formality annoyed me,
and, to assert my old footing, I pushed
open the dining-room door, meaning to
wait ere.
The room was dim, but I saw two fig-
ures very close together, which disen-
tangled themselves when they saw me,
and one gave a little shriek.
“Miss Machizt!” I cried, “I beg your
pardon!” and in confusion I retired to
the hall. I had seen that the second
figure was Simmons. “Docs Joan
know?” I wondered. Before I could
satisfy myself I heard the drawing-
room door slammed and a man rushed
down stairs. It was Stamford, looking
very c:;.;s. He did not see me till I
ventured to speak to him,
glared, muttered something, seized his
hat and left the house. .Mle W“
I went slowly upstairs and into the
drawing-room. J can was standing by
the mantel-piece with her handkerchief
in her hand. She was crying. and gave
a little jump when she heard me.
“O! is it you, Jim? Why did you
come up? I can’t see anyone.”
“I’m- no one,” said I. “What’s the
matter?” ‘ * .
“Nothing,” she said.
“Nonsense," I said, with severity.
“Come, tell me all about it, as you used
to do’ when your dolls were broken.” I
pushed a chair towards her and she
sank into it with a sob.
“I’ve been such a. fool!” she said.
can never respect myself again!”
“Is it as bad as that?” said I.
“Worse. You were right when you
said match-making was dangerous. It
is, horribly!”
“Ah! you’ve burnt your fingers ?”
“And for no purpose. Biddy and
Ralph Simmons—”
“I knew,” I said. “They are in the
drawing-room; I disturbed them. But
surely Stamford does not blame you?”
“Of course he does—” she dabbed her
eyes. “He thought—he didn’t under-
stand—he imagined—men are so vain.”
She stopped short. ’ '
“What did he imagine ?” I asked.
“That it was for my own sake,” she
faltered.
“Good gracious!” I cried, “and you
have just undeceived him ?”
“It was dreadful Jim. He thought]
cared for him, as he did for me, and
when he found out it was a mistake he
was awfully upset. He said I’d made a
fool of him and that he would leave
England and go away,” and the poor
little woman broke down.
I let her sob a few minutes, then I
said: “Was it a mistake? Do you want
him to stay in England?”
“I don’t want to drive him away,” she
sobbed.
“That is not whatI mean,” I said; “do
you love him after all?” '
She hesitated. “That’s a horrid thing
to ask,” she said.
“Never mind,” I said, sternly; “if you
don’t love him—”
“But I do! that’s the awful part of
it,” she cried. “I’ve only just found it
out, and how could I tell him I did when
he took it for granted I’d been running
after him ? I had _to let him think it was
a mistake or despise myself all my life! "
“You’re in a mess, J can,” said I.
“Shall I tell him?”
“Not a word,” she cried.
Just then I caught sight of a pair of
men’s gloves on a chair. “Are those his
gloves?” I said, pointing to them.
“Oh, yes,” she cried, catching them
11 .
I3‘They are a good pair; he will be sorry
to lose them,” I said. “Suppose you
write. and tell him they are here, and
suggest he should fetch them ?.” -
“Jim, you’re. an angel,” she cried.
Mrs. Stamford has abandoned match-
making—St. Paul’s.
. -.v-—~ .,.-. ..._~4...
"£1
A Guarantee of Safety.
“Steward,” said a passenger on an
ocean vessel, “the rats on this ship are
an awful nuisance.” .
“They are a guarantee of safety, my
dear sir,” replied the steward. “They
show the vessel is all right, for rats
desert a sinking ship.”——Pittsburglh
Chronicle-Telegraph.
—The peeple of Oregon are nick~
named “Hard Cases” and “Webfe‘et.”
then he '
Don’t Like it. ' . '1'."
Mr. John Malone is home from his
trip to Denver, Colorado, where he
went accompanied by his eon, for the~
benefit of the litter. He succeeded in
finding excellent quarters for his son,
but hastened home. To a Gnu-rm re.
porter J obn this morning said “I don’t-
like the country a little bit: Not-walk
is good enough for me.” Mr. Malone
is aDemocrat but not an owner in a”
silver mine. In fact he carries a gold
watch and is always in readiness to ex-
change his silver for bank-notes o'r gold.
«o-
TELLTALE FORCE or HABlei
This Bank Clerk Unconsciously Revealed
His Occupation.
They were both students at the new
school of psychology, physiognomy and
metaphysics. They dr0pped into an all-
night restaurant and. were talking of
hypnotism, says the New York Press.
“See that young man over there. near
the ice-box?” asked one.
“Yes, why ?" answered the other.
“What business does he follow ?” j udg-
ing from scientific Observation?”
“He is either a night operator or a
gambler.” A .
“By what reasoning?”
“Because he is pale and nervous. The
sun never shines on him. He has a voca-
tion that keeps his nerves at a high
tension."
The students left the contemplation-
of scientific research to investigate th
merits of two clam.chowders.' '
“I’ll tell you what line of business that
man follows,” said the second philoso-
pher, after a long pause.
“Well, what does he do for a living?”
“Paying teller in a bank.”
“How do you know ?” , ‘ :
“I watched him when the ".waiter
brought his pancakes a minute ago. _' He
dampened his fingers and ran them Over
to see if the count was right.”
THE HUMAN EYE.
Like the Arm, the One That Is most-need
Is Strongest. I l
You are either left-eyed or right-eyed,
unless you are. the one person out of
every 15 who has eyes of equal strength.
You also belong to the small-minority
of one out of every ten persons if your
left eye is stronger than your right.
As a rule, just as peeple are right-hand-
ed, they are right-eyed.
This is probably due to the generally
greater use of the organs of the right
side of the body, as, for example, *a
sportsman, using his right arm and
shoulder, uses his right eye to sight his
gun, thereby strengthenng it with ex-
ercise. , V."‘W’”r¥vl?£ffiij‘cf
Old sea captains, after long use Of the:
telescope, find their right eye much
stronger than the left. The law is con-
firmed by the cxperience of aurists.
If a person who has ears of equal hear-
ing has cause to use one ear more than
the other for a long period, the ear
brought into requisition is found to be
much strengthened, and the car which
is not used loses its hearing in a cor-
responding degree. no}? "“‘W’S’
Transparent Umbrellas. ,
Umbrella making is among the most
interesting of industries. Something
like 1,000 patents have been taken out
during the last 20 years. The most re- »
cent inventor, who, if successful, will
eclipse all rivals, is a maker who claims
to have contrived a transparent um-
brella,which,while being equally water-
proof with silks and alpacas, will have
the great advantage of allowing the
wayfarer in a rainstorm to avoid colli-
sion wit-h lamp posts and other obsta-
cles along the way. ,.
Correct Proportions." dd
Some gleaners of human family staé
tistics say that a man or woman of cor- '
rect proportions is six times as high as
the right foot is long. '
’._——
PURELY PERSONAL.
The royal family will put off their
mourning for Prince Henry of Batten-
berg on the day of Princess Maud’s wed-
ding. . .
John A. Parshall, of Delhi, N. .Y., has
worked continuously at the case as a ,
compositor on. the Delaware Gazette
for over 45 years-
Col. Lake, of Canada, will visit Eng-
land in May to supervise the gathering
supplies of arms and batteries recently
voted by the dominion parliament.
The late Prof. Bensley’s- rare and
splendid collection of oriental manu-
script-s has been presented by his widow
to the university library at Cambridge,
England.
Judge Albion W. Tourgee, author of
“A Fool’s Errand,” which created such
a sensation a score of years ago, has
just argued his first case before the
United States supreme court.
Vice President Adlai E. Stevenson an-
nounces that there is no truth'in the
statement tha't has been published to
the effect that he and Mrs. Stevenson
will visit Europe the coming summer.
Russell Sage is very fond of driving
and has scarcely missed a daily ride in
Central park in 30 years, except when he
is absent from the city. He generally
drives two horses, but is trying a team
of four which will trot evenly together.
Hubert Yes, the Washington painter,
has just finished a portrait of Secretary
Olney which will be hung in the office
of the attorney-general, and is now
painting Senator Bruce. The portrait
of Mr. Olney is considered a master-
piece.
f1, trims out ink, paint, "
z, tar, pitch, grease
“and stains from
clothing and car- a;
_' pets quickly and "
completely and '
Mrjeavesp Ring N
- ——No Acid—— 10:... 2513., at, Drug
~ No unpleasant odor. and Dry GoodsStox-cs
. Not inflammable. Samples maid, 5c.- .
L. >._ SUTTON, New Canny,
“4.1.4... .4. a.
_.._l
I
1
Ct. 7
Norwalk Chronicler