, a
AN'OLD SQNG. -. ‘ "
" Hearts may break and still beat on.”
The old song runs in saddened rhyme:
And this heart, slowly throbbing here. T"
Broke long ago, in one dark time,
“That time she laid her burden down.
And left me journeying alone. ’
I find it true—-I 11110 W it- true—
That " Hearts may break and still beat on. '
' At first. all dimly understood,
My loss I could not comprehend,
I And sought for solace far and wide.
That phase of grief came to an end.
And various stages had their sway.
One thought remains when all are gone.
Life and myself are not the same.
Yes, “Hearts may break and still best 011."
Four times the year has bloomed and died.
And yet it seems a hideous dream
That I have lost her. How her hand
Between me and life’ s thorns a screen
Was ever readyl Rough the road
And long-and long. since she is gone.
How many years it takes to die
When broken hearts must still beat on!
MILLDUE’S COMING.
Mr. Peter Milldue so —_—:conscientiously
followed the example of thelilies of the
field, the lotus-eaters, and other Bohe-
mians, in taking no care for anything,
that he greatly resembled a scarecrow.
Mr. Milldue lived alone. When he
told the elderly, garrulous woman who
cooked his meals that she might take
a holiday, as he was going'away for
a week, he surprised «her to speechless-
ness.
“Come in on Wednesday morning,"
were his last words. '
The Wednesday arrived. Mrs. Mur-
phy was later than usual. . The whee-
zy old c1091: in the kitchen struck ten
as she dished the eggs and bacon. But
as Mr. Milldue never arose until his
breakfast was ready, she carried the
meal upstairs and knocked at the
chamber door.
“Come in,” said a voice.
Mr. Milldue’s chamber was occupied
by a clean-shaven, dapper gentleman,
smartly dressed, and not in the least
like the Shingleton “character.”
"I beg pardon, sir. I thought as Mr.
Milldue was here.”
“So he is,” coolly replied the un-
known. “I am Mr. Milldue.”
The trayful of crooks struck the
floor heavily. Mrs. Murphy did not
stay to pick up the fragments. She
tumbled down the stairs, banged the
front door behind her, and rushed
bare-headed to the police station.
“What’s the matter?” asked Inspect-
or Bolter, who chanced to be onIduty.
The inspector went back with her
himself. It was necessary to knock;
Mrs. Murphy had left her latchkey in
the kitchen. The door was opened
by the dapper gentleman who had
caused so much alarm.
“That’s him,” said the Irish woman,
in a loud whisper.
“Hold your tongue. I want to see
Mr. Milldue,” the inspector added.
The unknown I‘eddened. ,
“I—I’m Mr. Milldue,” he stammered.
“So you’re Mr. Milldue, are you?”
the inspector Continued. “I wouldn’t
have believed it if you hadn’t told me.”
He produced'a notebook. “Think I’d
better take your answer down. .What
do you say your name is?”
“Peter Milldue. Surely you know
me, Mr. Bolter?”
“No, I don’ t; I never saw you before
that I’m aware of. Where do you
live?"
“Here I’ve lived here nearly ten
years.’
“That’ll do, young man. You’re in
custody. You can pitch that tale to
somebody else.”
“What are 'you going to charge me
with?”
“Being on Mr. Milldue’s premises for
an unlawful purpose.”
“It’s absurd! Look here. Now that
silly woman, who couldn’t keep a se-
cret to save her life, is gone, I’ 11—
The man in custody stopped as if he
had suddenly changed his mind.
Thrusting his hand into his breast
pocket, he produced a sheaf of letters
and a banker s pass-book.
“These will satisfy you,” he ‘said.
Inspector Bolter examined them. All
the envelopes were addressed to
“Peter Milldue, Esq.” He opened the
pass-book. “Peter Milldue” stared
him in the face.
“They are not yours,” said the in-
spector; “see if there is anything miss-
ing )1
'r nut-r
They sought him high and low—in ‘
the attic, the cellar, the water-butt,
in every conceivable hiding-place.
Acting on Mrs, Murphy’s suggestion,
the inspector I examined the back gar-
den for traces of a newly-made grave.
“It’s as plain as the nose on me face
that he’s been murdered and done
away with, ” she said, and scrutinized
the washhouse copper and the stock of
coals. .
When convinced that Lombard villa
did not contain Mr. Milldue, dead or
alive, the inspector locked the doors,
put the‘keys in his pocket, and called
on the neighbors. He learned nothing,
except that the missing man would not
be. missed if he never returned, which
was scarcely news.
Inspector Bolter returned to the ‘po-
lice station. . -
“Rum go this, sir,” exclaimed the
sergeant in charge. ‘
“What’s that?”
“This chap as says he’ Is old Milldue, I
sir. When he isn’t crying in the cell
like a baby, he's vowing awful ven-
geance on us all. ”
The Shingleton police court was
crow ded. Mrs Murphy had told every-,1
body she knew that Mr. Milldue had.
been murdered. Mr. Bompas, justice
of the peace, had heard the news and
*was almost punctual.
“Call the man who says he’s Mill-.
due,” said the magistrate’s clerk.
The next moment the prisoner stood
in the dock. He did not look the worse
«for the brief confinement. His black
hair Was smooth, his attire unwrin-
kled. Asked his name, he replied as
. before,—
“Peter Milldue. ”
“Ridiculous!"- cried the magistrate.
“The height of absurdity. Don’t ask
{V n 13.
9
him any more questions. Inspector,
what do you know about him. 3”
Mr. Bolter told the story b1iefly of
the arrest, adding: .
“I apply for a remand, your worship.
Letters were found on the prisoner
addressed to Mr. Milldue by a lady. I
have not yet communicated with her.
i propose to do so to- day.”
“I forbid you!” shouted the prisoner
shaking his fist at the inspector,
great excitement. “I won’t, allow you
to communicate with Miss Tapley in
any way!”
Here, in the newspaper reports of the
case, the word “sensation” was inter-
polated.
“The inspector will do his duty,”
said the magistrate. “You are re-
manded for three days.’
Now, only afew years back, Single-
ton had consisted of ,three fishermen’s
huts and a coast guard station, It was
a brand new town, and the disappear-
ance of Mr. Milldue was its first mys-
‘ tery. Naturally it revelled in it.
Meanwhile, Inspector Bolter tool.
the first train to Bamford-super-Niare,
with Mr. Milldue’s correspondence in
his pocket.
the letter without diffiCulty. Miss Tap-
ley proved to be a good-looking, digni-
fied lady of thirty or thereabouts. She
admitted the correspondence at once.
“Mr. Milldue is missing,” said the
inspector. '
“He has probably gone to London.
He told me he would go yesterday,"
she said.
“Hump!” InSpector Bolter took a let—
ter from his pocketbook. “Do you reef
ognize this writing?”
“Yes. It is an authority I gave Mr.
\Iiildue to receive the money and se-
curities mentibned therein on my be
half. ”
“This letter—this authority,” contin.
ued the police officer, impressively,
"was taken from a man,a stranger in
Singleton, whom I arrested in Mill-
due’s house. He declared he was Mill-
due himself. There is no doubt in my
mind that he was aware Milldue was.
going to receive this money, and that
accounts for Milldue’s mysterious 61:5-
appearance. He wouldn’t go to Lon-
don without this paper?”
“No. He was going entirely on my
account-to obtain the money. Do you
suspect that he has been-that some:
thing has happened to him ‘2" and Miss
'l‘apley seemed in great distress.
“I knew Mr. Milldue very well when
I was a child, twenty years ago. I
have lost sight-of him until about a
' week since. He had learned that I
am entitled to a large sum of money,
and that I was being advertised for.
and he came over to seek me. He
stayed here a week. He returned to
Singleton the day before yesterday.”
Two hours later Inspector Bolter
conducted Miss Tapley to the pris-
oner’s cell door and removed the cover
of the spying hole. ,
“Gracious! what
whispered.
The police officer took her aside.
“I thought you would know him,”
he said. “In fact, I was sure of it.
Now we have a clew to Mr. Milldue's
disappearance, Who is be?"
“Mr. Milldue himself!”
“Oh, nonsense!”
“Well, he is the man who came to
Bamford as Mr. Milldue. As I said, I
had not "seen him for twenty years. If
he is not my uncle‘s old friend, my es-
cape is most fortunate.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hohhe asked me to marry him, un-
dertaking to get this moneyif I would
do so. I understand there are difficul-
ties and expenses. I left very. grate-
ful, and—and I consented.”
Inspector Bolter looked the picture
of a puzzled police oifice1.
Recovering, however, be dispatched
Miss Tapley to London to the solicit-
ors who were supposed to have adver-
tised for her. It was necessary to
know whether the story of the legacy
told by the mysterious prisoner were
true or a fabrication. Then be wired
to the country town for the assistance
of a couple of detectives.
They “came. They
bard villa by way of a start, but dis-
covered nothing of importance.
The almost fruitless search ended,
Inspector Bolte'r took his assistants to
the prisoner’s cell,in the hope that they
Iwould recognize him.
an escape!” she
fellow?” said the first to look through
the spying hole. '
“So he is,” whispered the inspector,
applying his eye
‘I’m a ruined man!" he gasped.
The next moment he had the door
unlocked and stood within the cell.
The prisoner had changed to an old
man, almost bald. The few hairs re-
maining were white. He was asleep,
with his head bowed over the table.
On the floor lay a wig.
“What do you‘mean by this,
Milldue?” he cried, furiously.
“What do you mean by it?” was the
rejoinder, after an astonished pause.
Mr.
telling you I was myself, and nobody
else? D’ye think I was going to let all
Shingleton knowwhy I chose to make
myself look young and smart again?
Thanks to your stupidity, the folks
will know, I suppose; but if you’ve
done me out of a wife and fifty thou-
sand dollars into the bargain you'll be
sorry for it as long as ever you live."
No time» was lost in getting the Shin-
gleton “character” outside the Shingle-
ton police court. As he left the build
ing a telegram was handed to the
downcast prime mover. He tore open
the envelope;
, “From 'l‘apley, London,
Police station, Shingleton.
right,”
“That settles it!” exclaimed the 1111
fortunate inspector. "I’li'have to Clem
out of Shi ngieton. "
He di (‘1. The marriage of Mr. Mill
2 due to Miss Tapley was announced
, shortly afterward. —-Waveiley Maga~
: z: no.
to Boltcr
Money all
'/.
' 'like one of his wife's; but, of course, il-
in.
He found the writer of'
searched Lom~ '
“Thought you said he was a young"
“Didn’t I get black in the face with
TH- MORNING Bn_A’S
The morning breaks, and with it brings
The first faint breath of Spring.
And hearts, like happy birds on wings,
For joy are carolingi
A thrill runs through the frozen earta
A trill pervades the air;
Presaging banishment of dearth,
Foretelling all things fair!
Each shivering bough e11 wreathed shall glow
With wealth of summer bloom.
Unmindful of the blasts that bio w,
Forgetful of the gloom! "
And hearts bowed down by weight of woe,
Souls shivering in Life’s blast. -
Beneath God’s smile shall 1adiant grow
In Summer-land at last!
- —G13.(‘.0 Appleton.
Rose Graham laid the morning paper
aside and looked across the table at his
wife. -
“I don t like the idea, Dora," he said
coloring the words with yetstronger
disapproval.
His wife 3 face flushed a little as she
toyed with her coffee spoon. She Was
one of the few women who can look
charming at 8 a. m. It Is awfully ha1d
is distracting pretty and you have been
married only three short months. '
“All the girls have them,” she pro-
tested. “I’m surprised, Ross, really I
am, that you should object. Every-
body rides, and it is so awfully fasci-
nating. ”
" 'It doesn’t make any difference what
other girls do. ” responded her husband,
emphatically, “they may fly to the
moon if somebody patents airships, for
all I care. But I . hate to see you on a
bicycle—not {that there is any actual
harm in them, but a man doesn’t care to
have his wife prancing around the coun-
try, stared at gby all the fellows. You
may have anything else in reason that
you want, Dot, but I draw the line at
bloomers and a wheel.”
Dora’s eyebrows pudkered ominously.
'-T ‘le rose with injured dignity and look-
9 l down at her husband as impressive-
Ly as a. woman may from a height of
five feet one.
“Do I understand you to say that you
Iforbid me to ride a (bicycle? she asked
slowly. Her checks were glowing now
and a small, slippered foot beat a tatoo
upon the carpet.
Her husband looked up in surprise.
It is always surprising to a newly made
benedict to discover that his adoring
spouse has any wishes apart from his
own.
“,Well ” said he, with the mild des-
peration of a peaceable man who finds
himself corne1ed. “If you insist on
putting it in such an unpleasant way,
yes.”
"Then,” replied his wife, moving
tragically toward the door, oven the
tortoise shell aquiver with indignation,
'.‘all I have to say is that you are a per
fect—tyrant !”
Everything went wrong at the office
that day. It is not easy to wrestle with
business lwhen one emerges from the
gloom of a domestic thundercloud, and
Ross was relieved when the afternoon
wore on. '
“After all,” he soliequized, as he rode
homeward on a California street car,
“perhaps I was rather hard on the bicy-
cle proposition. But it wouldn’ tdo to
give in to her now—I must be firm.”
It takes a married man some time to
acquaint himself with the apparent in-
consistency of the feminine mind.
Dora had allowed him to go down
town without as much as a farewell
glance. Approaching his cozy home
with some inward apprehension he was
naturally astounded when she met him
at the door, radiantly smiling.
Some friends dropped in Dlater, and
the evening passed delightfully. Dora
devoted herself to her husband’s com-
.fort with an eager solicltude that he at-
tributed to sincere repentance.
As she poured coffee for him the next
morning ,he observed with horror an
immense andunsightly bruise upon her
arm—a bruise that‘ included all the col-
ors of a well developed rainbow.
“For heaven’s sake, Dot, how did you
do it?” he inquired anxiously. His wife
blushed furiously.
“Oh, I fell—that is, I—oh, it’s noth
ing, Ross, dear, nothing whatever—«lo
let me help you to cream. By the by, I
forget to tell vou that—-”
Here she branched off to a dissertation
on music.
A week later Mr. Ross Graham- made
his way homeward one. new safety.
“I really need the exercise,” he ex-
plained rather awkwardly to his wife,
miller figure.
"Of course you do, dear,” she re
sponded cheerfully,whe1'eas he breathed
a sigh of relief. “Some women would
have kicked up a dickens of a row,” he-
ruminated. “Dora is an angel.”
Ross found cycling such an agreeable
pastime that he caught himself thinking
of Dora one morning and half wishing
she was beside him. He was not" so sure
after all about the impropriety of it. A
gi1l could look confoundedly fetching
on a wheel.
ular, a natty little figure in a blue suit,
a jaunty cap atop of her head, w .10 ap-
peared every morning in the distance
but he had never yet over
taken her as she avoided the main paths
alone.
One morning he obey ed a sudden i1n '
pulse to pass the fair unknown. She
‘ evidently devined his intention, for 5 ‘1e
doubled her speed. So it was to be a
race between them—what a sauéy little
thing she must be! ' ,
Mentally resolved, to buy a dagger pin
“not very day £013 Dora, as a peace offer-
ing to his conscience—poor little D0111.
slumbering innocently at home while
.13, basely pursued strange phantoms-
ne gained steadily upon the ride:
ahead, in spite of her eii'orts to e112.
hi; -.n .
Something in the shiny coils of ‘1'..-
hair struck him as oddly fa111iliar.
was a tortoise shell comb and was v.2. :
. much.
couldn t help doing it. "
BOTH HAD WHEELS.
a faintly discernible air of authority,
to refuse your'wife anythinglwhen she .
who was watching as usual for his fa
Of late he had observed one in p111 tic '
skimming gracefully along and always '
g». .1 rs.‘ .
1
was not.
There was a little hill shes .. a: d
masculine muscle showed its s1 13') \r
ity. The girl in blue was doing her
best, but despite her efforts the n a}
gained and was soon close been; 1:.
her.
Then something happened w hicu sur
prised the pursuing whee 1111111 1' er;
When she could dis -‘Illlsell ..
identity no longer, Mrs. Ross Grabs n
leaped lightly from her wheel. a 11 t: 11“.:
ing to her husband said, hsl f plea iin, .
half defiantly:
“F01 give me, Ross,
3:19
but I simply
For an answer, ORoss, who had dis
mounted, took his Wife in his arms and
kissed her.
And the wheel question was settled
HE DID .NOT _ LEAV E.
Rose Forest and Alec Beaten had
"been engaged six years, and both had
only just reached. their majority. It
had been one of those fami ly’ arranged
affairs that are always intended so
kindly, and often, alas! end so disas-
trously.
They had been brought up side by
side, and when one summer mention
they were told they must eventuallv
marry one another they could not see’
any objection, nor any particular reason
for such an arrangement.
In the six years 6that passed they saw
very little of one another, and now Alec
was at a theological college, and Rose
was enjoying a round ‘of gayety in
London. ' ’
Among the many who sought her so-
ciety was Alec’s elder brother, David, a
soldier by profession, and a soldier of
the truest worth.
People had- often wondeied why he
had never married. But his whole at-
tention had been devoted to his profes-
sion. and now at the age of forty he
was recognized as a staid old bachelor.
“How-often do you and Alec write
to one another?” he asked Rose one
1311' . ‘
"'Oh, we have no regular time. I
write to him when I think I have any-
thing to say that interests him. But
that isn’t very often, you know!” she
smiled roguishly. “He wouldn’t care
to hear of our ceaseless round of friv-
oliIty. ”
"But you mad and you write. Nay,
don’t blush; I have seen some of your
sto1ies,a*1d they are charming. Don't
you tell him about those interests?”
’ "No. You see, David, he lives such
11 diiferent life altogether, he only cares
for theological books.”
“What will you do when you are
married?” he asked.
She started slightly. “I never think
about it: It always seems to me so far
elf. But when the day comes I think
I shall be ready. ”
“But you should think about it, ’ he
said gently “Surely the joys of wife-
hood are worthy of some consideration.
Have y on no picture of what your home
will be?"
She had risen while he spoke, and
came close to him, with startled, parted
lips.‘
“Oh, David, I wish you wouldn’t talk
like this. You—you frighten me.”
“Poor little girl! I did not mean to
do that. I am a meddlesome old fel-
low, but the happiness of those I care
for is very near my heart. Goodby. ”
And Rose, tryingto forget his words,
found she could not forget him—found
that for many a week she had wom her
prettiest dresses to please him, that she
had welcomed him and looked for his
coming as she had waited for no other.
She began to realize when he touched
her hand, when he stood by her side as
she sang, when he sat next to her at
dinner and talked to no one else, that
she dismissed the thought of their fu-
ture relationship, that she dreamed i11-
stead of the home he had pictured and
all she longed to do for him.
It was the’ last day of the year, and
they were returning from a midnight
service, and Rose was walking by Col—
onel Beaton’s side. They were silent
for some time, and then hemade up his
I mind to tell her of the step he had de-
' termined to take.
“Do you know, little sister”—how un-
naturally the word came! but he said
it—“do you know this may be the last
time I shall spend a New Year's eve
with you for many a long year?”
She stumbled and clutched his arm.
He pressed her hand close to his breast,
and the gas lamp showed him her face
was white and drawn with sudden
pain.
“I must go away,” he said, hoarsely.
“I dare not stay, Rose. Do you care
very much, my child?”
“It will kill me!” she cried,
Alec arrived the next day, and David
was to leave in the afternoon. When
he called in the morning he was shown
by request into the room where the en‘
gaged couple awaited him.
“My dear brother,” Alec began, “you
come just at the right moment to give
us your counsel. Rose has told me
that she has discovered she has no do.
sire to marry me—that, in fact, sheds
i1 love with some one else, and I am
on the point of throwing up my calling,
. becauseT 1 hold no priest should marry,
and because I believed our betrothal
u as insoluble.’ '
David did not go away that da 1. —
London New. -
sperms
takes out ink, paint, I
tar, pitch, grease ' '
and stains from 5POTIHE
clothing and car-
pets quickly and I C L E A H 5
completely and . I .
Ne__v_er _heayes_ a Ri__n_g 7' ’ I
7 -—No Acid.—- 106., 256., at Drug
No unpleasant odor. and Dry Goods Stores .
Not inflammable. Samples ma. led, 5:. I
1. B. SUTTON, New Canaan, Ct. ::
anxious about the other.
.N 13> 1: ;W;;;'ALLK:- .G,A ZE '1‘ 1'1,‘ E _ ’
510.111' 01' JEWELS“.
'HTIQUITY OF THE CUSTOM OF
WEARING RINGS
Precious Gems Worn in the Time of
Pharaoh. Aaron’s Remarkable Bing.
\Vonderful Gems of the Persians and
Other Ancient People.
Many of the habits and customs of to
lay have theii roots in remote antiquity.
Among these that of personal adorn-
ment, such as the wearing- of rings and
amulets, must have been coeval with
the/earliest civilization, says the Boston
Herald.
The use of rings is very ancient. The
Egyptians were the first inventors of
them; which seems confirmed by the
person of Joseph, who, as we read in
Genesis, chapter. xii., for having inter-
preted Pharaoh 8 dream, received not
.only his liberty, but was rewarded with
the Princes ring, a collar of gold and
. the superintendency of Egypt.
Aaron, the high priest of the Hebrews
had a ring on his finger,whereof the dia-
mond by its virtue. operated prodigious
things. For it-changed its livid lustre
into a dark color when the Hebrews
went tobe punished by death for their,
._ sins; when they were to fall by the
sword it appeared of a blood color; if
, they were innocent. it sparkled With us-
ual brilliancy.
It is observable that the Ancient He-
brews used rings in the time even of the
war of Troy. Queen Jazebel, to destroy
Naboth, as is related in the third Book
of Kings. made use of the ring of Ahab,
King of the Israelities, her husband to
seal the counterfeit letters that ordered
the death of that unfortunate man.
Though Homer is silent in regard to
rings, both in his Iliad and Odyssey,
they were, notwithstanding, used in the
time of the Greeks and Trojans, and it
was from them several other nations re-
solved them.
The rings of the ancients often served
fer seals. ' Alexander, the Great, after
the defeat and death of Darius used- his
ling o'for sealing the letters he sent into
Asia, and his own.for those he sent into
Europe.
It 18 also remarkable that the greatest
personages wore some stones in the col
let of their rings, which could not but
be esteemed as rarities, either that they
were natural in regard to the figures
they represented, or were engraven.
The first who adopted rings in Egypt
had in them the figures of their gods, or
rather hieroglyphics.
Silenus, as Alexander says, had a
fatal ring, with the figure of an anchor
in the collet. This mark became nat-
ural in his prosperity, for his descend
ants had it impressed on the thigh at
their birth.
Josephus makes mention that Arius, a
king of the Lacedemonians, had in his
ring the figure of an eagle holding
a dragon between his talons, and
that this figure was natural.
JUDGE LYNCH’S KINDNESS-
One Half Hour’s Grace Given an Offender,
to Run Away.
They were holding the west bound
express at Reno for the east bound to
pass, and after awhile a rough looking
character asked of the ticket agent:
“Wall, how long afore this train
leaves?”
“Can’t tell,” was the curt reply.
The man went away, but in the
course of half an hour he returned to
inquire.
“Heard any thin’ yit?”
‘6No ”
“Can’t you tell when this train will
pull out?”
“No, sir. If you are here when the
train goes you can go with it. It's no
use coming here to bother me.”
“I don’t wan’t to bother you nor no-
body else,” slowly replied the question-
er, “but mebbe you don’t understand
how I’m fixed. I’m Prairie Sam’s
pa1dner.”
“Well?”
“Sam got into a little Ishootin’ scrap :
uptown this forenoon.”
“Yes?"
“And about an hour ago the boys -.
turned out and pulled Sam up to a.
limb.”
‘ 'Did, eh?
I hadn’t heard of that.'
Why didn’t they pull you up with '
him?”
“The blamed limb wasn’t stout ’nufl
to hold the both of us, and they was too
tired to hunt fur another. They gim
me two hours to leave town in. One of
the hours has gone, and I’m kinder
I kin buy a
boss and ride out if that train won’t be
here in time, but I’d a heap rayther
take the kyars. I don’t want to bother
you, but under the circumstances——
“I see.
half an hour.”
“Good. That gives me thirty minits
to play on, and I won’t look fur a boss.‘
Nice weather, this.”
“Beautiful weather for a lynching'
bee P.’
“Of course.
I’ll jest step up and take one long, lin-
train i”—Detroit Free Pres's.
Not Likely to be Disappointed.
An inquisitive person passing along a
country road stopped to talk with a
farmer hoeing corn.
"‘Your corn issma ,” said the in-
quisitive person.
“Yes. I planted that kind,” replied
the farmer.
“It looks yellow.”
“I planted yellow corn. ,
‘ I don’t think I'youll get more than,
;half a crop.’
“Don’t eXpect to—I planted it (5an
shares. ”—Buifalo Courier.
- ’1
Big Pay for Skill in Cookery.
When ex-Senator Sawyer’ s. daughters I
were little girls their father promised
to make them a handsome present when
they were able to cook him a satisfac
tory dinner. , Ten years later they re-
minded him of the promise and served
him with a dinner. with which he had
not the‘ least fault . to. find. That same
I- - day the Senator gave, each one'. of the
Sold by FINNEY & BENEDI-ICT.I
~v.
young women: check for 825.000.-
Well, the train’il be here in ,
_ _.-. ._....-I. -..._.. ..
BRIGHT
KILLED BY
UNFORTUNATE EFF—TCT OF 'A-SOL‘ -
OIER’S IMAGINATION.‘
no Prick o! a Pin in His Buck Iliad.
Kim Think that He Had. Been Shot.
and He Died. Unhnrt. From. Pure
Fright.
“In my opinion,” remarked the col-
lege professor, who rose from the ranks
during the last war to the position of
colonel, “the imagination of men does
more injury to the cause of courage
than all the appliances of war yet dis-
covered.”
“In other words,“ caromed a Star re-
porter, “if 0.“ didn’t think he would '
not be afraid of anything?”
“That’s about it,” admitted the pro—
fessor. “I had a remarkable case hapo
pen to me during the battles around ’
Richmond. That is to say, it- happened
to another man, but I was part of it. It
was on a skirmish line, and I was lying
behind a log with two other men—I was
only a private then—one of whom was
an inveterate joker, and the other was
the imaginative kind of soldiers. In I
fact, he was so imaginative that he was
. scared almost out of his wits, and when
the bullets and shells began flying
through the woods, cutting oif saplings
cliping wings all about us and barking
the top of the log behind which we lay.
I thought the man would burst a blood
' vessel or go crazy or do some other fool
thing unbecoming a soldier. Tom, the
joker, noticed the man’ s terror and cal -, _
ed my attention to it.
“Then he reached out and dragged in
a stick out from the tree above us by a
bullet, and fixing a pin in it proceeded
to have his fun. The man was at the
far end of our log, ten feet from Tom,
and I was just beyond Tom on the other
side, and, I am free to Confess, was ner
vous enough to wonder at Tom’s man-
ner at such a time.
However, I couldn’t help watching
his movements, and actually laughed to
see him sliding the pin- pointed stick
along towards the unsuspecting victim.
Having got it at the right distance, he
waited for a smashing volley of bullets,
and just as it came he prodded the sol-
dier 1n the back with the pin. .
“Well, it was really laughable to see
the chap jump and yell and roll over,
and we both fairly howled. But it
wasn’t so funny when the man didn’t
move after his first startled action and
Tom looked around at me in a scared
kind of way.
His surprise found expression in an
oath, and he called to the man. There,
was no reply, and he called again with
the same result. Then he crawled over
to him" and gave him a shake, that
brought no response either, 'and Tom
dragged him around so that he could
see his face. It was an ashy blue, with
the eyes staring wide open, and the man
was as dead as Julius Cassanwith never
a mark on him, save, perhaps, that one
pin scratch on his back. ”
“I should think your joking friend
could never have forgiven himself
for that cruel joke,” suggested the
writer. -
“I’m sure he never Would have,” con
cluded the professor, “because Tom was
a good fellow and a brave soldier, but
he never had much of a chance to, for,
when the next volley came he was on
his knees beside his dead comrade try-
ing to do something for him, and his
head was just high enough above the
100 for a. shell to clip the whole top of it
oif.”—Washington Star.
Privilege of the Senate.
Yes,” he said in a. tone that had a
shadow of disappointment in it. “I
went to Washington. I had some bus-
iness in the East, and I thought it a
good time to get a little insight in the
way the affairs of the Government are
conducted."
“I guess a. man can pick up a good
deal that is interesting and instructive
there. What place in the capital im-
pressed vou most?”
“The Senate restaurant. ”
“You don t say?”
“Yes. It was there I discovered that
a. man can eat huckleberry pie with his
knife and still be a leader of his fellow
citizens.”—-‘letroit Free Press.
Wat—r— Safer ThIan of Tore.
It is usual to compare the battles of
' the last century with thé battles of to-
' day,a and dilate upon the greater deadli-
That’s what I meant. I
,gerin’ look at 8am, and then ketch the ;
I
I
l
I
I
ness of the modern weapons and the,
modern results. But the facts are all
the other way. At Fontenoy, for in-
stance, one volley of the Colds;.'c..'_:s
struck down 450 Frenchmen of the Regi-
ment du Roi, says the “Saturday Re.
view.” , Again, at the same battle. the
Gardes du Corps had not much short of
500 saddles emptied by a single volley,
while the French Guards Were scattered
by point blank volley from a British
reginent at twenty paces that brought
down 450 men. Here we havr at Kru-
gersdorp, thousands of Boers in cover,
shooting for hours on two days at 600
Englishmen in the open and killing very
few.
She Is an Expert.
One of the best mining experts in Ar
izona is a woman, and another expert in
.the same line is Mrs. Clara Wood, of
Kiamath, Or. She is said to know more
about the mineralogy of the Klamath
Riv er than any other person, and her
knowledge has a high commercial value
1.11.
56 YEARS ESTABLISHED.
GRA NQ mp UPRI'GHT.‘
Nearly 100,000 Manufactured...
Em TE'I'FMT— BXCI‘IANQED.I
111311501111an Pnlces. Io’ ' ‘
FISCHER PIANO WAREROOMS,
.to her.
Writafar Catalog“;
‘ no rmh iAve.. cor. lots 31., a. Y.
Norwalk Chronicler