M
.‘x:
. , _ ,
‘ """“—- THE GALF PATH. - -
0135 fig.“ through the primeval wood
A calf walked h .me, as good calves should:
But made a trail all bent askew,
A crooked trail. as all calves do.
Since then two hundred years have fled.
And, I infer, the calf is dead. ‘
But still he left behind his trnll,
A n|l thereby hangs a mortal tale.
The trail was taken up'next day
By a lojfzge dog that passed that way.
And then a wise bell-wether sheep
Pursued—the trail o’er vale and s1 eep.
And drew thé‘ flock behind him. too.
As good bell-wethers always do.
And from that day. o'er hill and glade.
Through those old woods a path r. as made,
And many men wound in and out.
And dodged and turned and bent about,
And uttered words of righteous wrath, \'
Because 'twas such a crooked path:
But stillthey followed—do not laugh—
The first migration of that calf.
And, through this winding woodway stalked
Because he wabbled when he walked.
This forrest pathbecame a lane.
That bent and turned and turned in mm;
This crooked lane became a l'nnd,
\‘Vhere many a poor horse, with his load,
Toiled on beneath the burnim,r sun,
And travelled some three miles in one.
And thus a century and a half
They trod the footsteps of that calf.
The years passed on in swiftness fleet,
The road became a village street.
And this, before the men were aware,
A city’s crowded thoroughfare,
And soon the central street was this
1‘ a renowned metropolis.
And men two centuries and a half
Trod in the footsteps of that calf;
Each day a hundred thousand rout
Followed the zigzag calf about;
And o‘er his crooked journey went
The trafiic of a. continent.
A hundred thousand men were led
By one calf near three centuries dead.
AS MARTHA SAID.
1"? MAE MESEROLE MERTIN.
“I confess I do not understand you,-
Joyce.”
“And yet you said a moment since
that I was but a child.”
“Children are sometimes harder to
read than their less fortunate'kindred
of a larger growth.”
“I gather from your remark that you
consider it better to be a child of quick
intelligence than a. woman of slow
wit.”
“That was its purport.”
“Then accept my thanks for the com-
pliment.”
“Joyce,
please!”
“I think not.”
“But how else could I so frequently
incur your displeasure?”
“You are so stupid!”
“Now it is my turn to give thanks
for a compliment.”
“Tim, Tim, you are hard .to please!”
Silence. The hammock swings gent-
ly back and forth, urged by the al-
ternate pressure of a. dainty heel and
toe on the bit of worn turf, accom-
panied by the crisp swish of white
duck skirts. From an upper limb of
the cherry tree hangs a pair of highly
polished tan ties, surmounted by a
considerable length of duck trousers.
Suddenly the tree is seized and vigor-
ously shaken, and a shower of cherries
descends with force. A goodly supply
Joyce, you are hard to
LOHENGRIN
having fallen into her 1971:, the girl in
the hammock calmly makes way with
them.
“Beg pardon,” says a. contrite voice
from above. “Did I hurt you?" ,
“Not at all." !
“I am afraid I was angry, and with-'
out thinking I shook the limb."
“As Martha would say, ‘He that is
soon angry—J ”
“Ah, but you forget; ‘who so pro-
yoked him to anger—’ ”
“By the way, did you know Martha
was coming home?”
“No. I am sorry to say I am not
honored with your confidence.”
“You don’t deserve it. I am telling
you now.”
“Notbeing deaf, I-——"
"You will love Martha."
“1 am sure of it.” .
“Yes, of course. Everybody loves
Martha.”
“Then surely she could dispense w th
the little affection I have to spare. Is
she like you?” i
“In what way? Greediness?” I
“Well since you mention it, yes.” l
“Oh, no! I’m only healthily greedy.
Martha is abnormally so. It worries
her if people don’t fall instant victims
to her charms. But she has no cause
to worry for they always do.”
“I thought her host was an excep-
» tion.”
“To be sure. I forgot him. But
then poor old Uncle Dallas never loved
any one but himself. He thinks more
of Martha than all the rest of us rolled
together, though that is not saying a
great deal. I am glad he has decided
whether to live or die, for I couldn’t
have gotten along another week with-
out Martha. I hope he’ll stay well for
a. great long time, or else go off sud-
denly.”
“I’m afraid you’re a heartless young
person, Joyce.”
“Oh, no! As Martha was saying be-
fore she ”
“Never mind Martha now. I sup-
pose I shall not see much of you after
her arrival. Will you play me a set
of tennis.”
“You have not mended my rarquct
yet.” ‘
“You did not remind me of it. I told
you I would forget. I’ll do it now.”
“What a fib! You thought Tommy
would do it if you waited long enough.
As Martha tells poor Tom a dozen
times a day, ‘procrastination is——-’ "
“Bother Martha!”
“1 don’t understand you.”
“I said bother Martha!
“And had the temerity to repeat it.”
“There, there, Joyce! Look out, I'm
coming down.”
In another second he lands lightly
at her feet. Joyce breaks into a gay
laugh.
”Who told you not to climb trees in
duck trousers? Another time, sir, per.
haps you’ll listen to my advice.”
“The deuce!” says Tim with rueful
concern, trying to see the whole of his
person at once. And then he looks at
..\
.Arranged by KARL \VAGNER.
Copyright, 1896, by Musical News Co.
v
w u E K i
!
Y.-
.her. “Why,“ Jana—you wanted some
cherries.” .
“Tommy picked a panful this morn-
ing. You were too lazy to go to the
house for them.” -
“Well, never mind. Ducks wash, so
it isn’t so bad as it might be.”
“Meantime?”
“I'l sit in the hammock with you.”
“There’s no room.”
“You can make it.”
“If I choose.”
“Dear Joyce, won’t you choose?”
“Dear Tim, I won’t."
“You don’t love me, Joyce.”
“As Martha was saying, ‘If you can’t
say something, don’t speak.’ "
“Martha again! Always Martha! I
hate Martha!”
“Wicked youth!
get your deserts.”
“Seriously, Joyce, don’t you like me
a. little?”
“To be sure I do—next to Tommy.”
“Joyce!” ‘ 7
“But you couldn’t expect me to like
you better than Tommy. Why, he’s
my brother.”
“Perhaps you are rather tired of
having me around, Joyce?”
“That may be. As Martha was say-
lng—”
“Aren’t you sorry that I shall never
Never fear, you’ll
: make Martha’s acquaintance?”
“But you will. She is coming to-
morrow afternoon.”
“And I am going in the morning by
the early train.”
“Nonsense! What for?”
“Well, I think I’ve neglected father
long enough. I have felt guilty ever
since reading his last letter; and then
you know I have fully recovered my
strength after that beastly typhus, and
I haven’t a shred of an excuse to stay
longer. It has been very pleasant, and
you’ve all been uncommonly good to
me. I don’t like to leave the old place
and your sweet mother, but life is not.
one long holiday. And then you are
tired of my hanging ’round.”
“But that need not take you off. You
can keep out of my way.”
“Thanks; I wasn’t brought up an
adept at dodging folks. Well, I sup-
pose I ought to go over and say good-
by to the girls at Moor Lodge. I’d ask
1 you to acompany me only you seem to
be weary of my society.”
“Shall you return soon?”
“Oh, yes, by bed-time, unless they
invite me to stay. If I am not back
by six, you’ll explain my absence to
your mother, will you not?”
“I don’t mean that. From the city,
. you know?”
I
3 I return ?
l
l
v
1
“Oh, I beg pardon! But why should
I’m perfectly well now.”
“To see—Martha.”
“Oh, Martha—”
“Yes, but don’tput yourself out, you
." know, because Martha has plenty of.
friends.”
“So I judged. Do you think
would care to see me?”
“I think she would.
she
I told her all
MS. RCM.
By R. WAG. 2?
N m.=w ”A i". r; ':
about you. Please don’t swing me. I
like to sit still. As Martha was saya
ing, I—I mean you—”
“Well, what was Martha saying? By
Jove, since it has got to be Martha,
let it be Martha once and for all! What
was the oracle saying this time?”
“I’ll_ not tell you."
“Joyce, you are blushing!"
“I’m not. Please, Tim, don’t step on
my toes.” ‘
“Dear Joyce, I will if I like. I in-
sist upon knowing what—”
“Oh, Tim, your knees will be
smeared with—dirt!”
“Never mind my knees. Ducks can
be washed, you know. You are blush-
ing, Joyce. Tell me what Martha was
saying."
“Never!"
“You’re ashamed of it."
“I am not.”
“Then tell me, won’t you, Joyce?”
“No, Martha—”
“Never mind that part. What was
it she said?” ‘
“Tim, do you love me?”
“Oh, Joyce!”
“Then, don’t ask me what Martha
was saying.”
“I won’t if—"
“If what?”
“You’ll make room for me in the
hammoc .”
“Well, there! Oh-h, Tim!”
“What‘s the matter? Are you not
comfortable?”
“Ye—es, but———”
“But what? Now don’t say you
don’t because you do. I see it in your
eyes. Ah, my dear, I know what Mar-
tha was saying!”
“You don’t.”
“Shall I tell you?”
“Yes.”
“Then lookinto my eyes.
see the reflection of yours?”
“Yes.”
“What else can you see?”
“N—nothing.” ,
“No fibs, Joyce. Deny it if you dare.
Well, that's what Martha was "saying.“
Can you
Perversity in the Inani‘ma‘te.
“Matches are a nuisance any we,
you fix them.” ‘
“How do you make that out?”
“W'ell, if you take only one to light
the gas with, it invariably goes out."
££Yes?1!
"And‘ if you take two you always
have to carry the other one back.”—
Chicago Record.
Might DIRT-'34 a Difference.
“I’ll tell the people who talk about
employing you that you are incapable
of a falsehood!” said the warm friend.
“Thank you, ever so much, only ex—
press it carefully. There’s a good deal
of difference you know, between saying
that a man ‘cannot tell a lie’ and de-
alaring that he ‘has no diplomacy.’ ”—
Washington Star.
Some people haven’t enough hos-
pitality in them to entertain their own
opinion.—Da.llas News.
\
”roAZETT
" passant, will travel faster than any~
it.” '
HEIR TO Arm-icons.
One or the Brightest Pupils in an ‘ Amer].
can College. ‘ ' .
So-Mayou, a native African, and pre-
sumptive ruler of a great tribe, has
graduated from Cobb Divinity School,
Lewiston, Me., this year. He is prob
ably the first heir to a throne who has
ever been graduated from an American
college.
His career at the Maine college has
been pursued with the greatest ambi- .
lion and perserverance. Now that
It is all over he is entitled to preach as
a minister of the Free Baptist Church,
a denomination to which all colored
people are partial. ‘ He proposes to
spend the next year traveling all over
the United States under the auspices
of the church whose faith he has
adopted. Then he will return to the
Bassa tribe, on the west coast of Af-
rica, near the Gulf of Guinea, and de.
rote his life to the welfare of this bar.
barous and superstitious people.
The first effort So-Mayou made af-
ter his arrival in this country was to
change his name, taking that of Louis
Penick Clinton.
I-Iis uncle, the present ruler, lsurped
the throne, and the younger heir to it
was compelled to escape to Liberia.
All through his college career he has
been able to keep pace with the Ameri-
can students in all his studies; and now
feels satisfied that he can enlighten
his tribe in the English language and
religion.
When he returns to Africa he intends
to remove his uncle’s jealousy by tell-
ing him that he does not want the
throne which rightfully belongs to him,
but simply desires to found schools
and institutes for the people where
they may be educated and enlightened.
—New York Journal.
A’ 'Curious Marriage Custom.
In Brittany there is said to prevail
a curious marriage custom. On certain
fete days the young ladies appear in
red petticoats, with white or yellow
borders around them. The number 0!
borders denotes the portion the father
is willing to give his daughter. Each
white band denotes silver—one hun-
dred francs per annum; each yellow
band represents gold—a thousand
francs a year.
m
'58 Could Dodge.
“There’s nothing slow about Jones,”
he said refiectively.
The other laughed scornfully.
“I guess you never loaned him any
money,” he said.
“Oh, yes, I have,” replied the first
speaker. “That's what made me speak
that way. I loaned him $10 six months
ago, and I haven’t been able to catch
him since.”—Chicago Post.
Evil report, at may be remarked en
thing else except a man who is riding
a bicycle about the second time—De-
. ,
NEVER NEEDED A DOCTOR.
ABemm-kablo Record for a Woman 106
Years Old and Mother of 18 Children. ‘
- Probably one of the most remark-
ably old women now living in Pennsyle
vania, says an exchange, is Mrs. Mary
Ann Cassiday, of Coalport, Pa., who is '
now 105 years of age, hale and hearty.
She was the mother of eighteen chil-
dren, thirteen boys and five girls. 01!
this number nine are living and nine
are dead. Mrs. Cassiday was born in
County Fermanagh, Ireland, in 1792,
coming with her husband and family
to this country '11 1845. From their
landing at New York they went to
Philadelphia, thence to Broadtop,
Johnstown Gallltzin, Houtzdale and
finally located in Coalport, where she
has lived ever since. She lived in
Johnstown forty-two years ago, when
the canal was first operated there. Her
husband was killed at Broadtop a few
years after coming to America by be-
ing caught in a coal shaft when re?
turning from work.
Mrs. Cassiday was never known to
'be sick and never had a physician. She
never went to a dance in her life. For
the past twenty-four years she has had
her second sight, and now does not
need to wear glasses. Though she is
toothless she can eat heartily three -
times a day. She weighed 220 pounds
when coming to this country, but dur—
ing the past fifteen years she has drop-
ped to about 200. Abo-t a year ago
she kissed one of her tWIn boys good-
by as he lay in his coflin, he having
.died at the age of 65 years.
JUDGE NOW A CLERK.
Was Seven Years on the Bench in the
State of Washington.
An ex-J'udgc of the Superior Court
busily engaged in bundling up grocer-
ies or counting out a dozen eggs for a
retail customer is a. rare sight, even in
these days of rapid changes and busi-
ness reversals. Yet such may be seen
:21 n grin-cry store _at the corner of
{lush and Fourth streets in Santa
Ana.
'l'hzra‘. arrayed as any grocery clerk
tn'qht be, is W. H. Harris, for seven
you)»: Superior Judge of New What
com. Wash. the extremenorthwestern
count): of the United States. Mr. Har-
ris u as taught in the boom, and rath-
w that} starve a professional man,
voile-‘11 up his sleeves, and W'lth a Will
has begun to recoup his lost fortune.
During the good times Mr. Harris
loaded himself with Washington prop—
erty at greatly inflated prices. Pur-
cliaSers at even ten cents on the dollar
were not to be had, and the tax col-
lector did the rest.
Mr. Harris’s judicial incumbency
extended from 1884 to 1891, during the
territorial existence of the now full-
ficdged state. His official record is
one that reflects credit on his ability
as a reader of the law. Mr. Harris is
1 graduate of Ann Arbor, both liter-
airy and law departments—Santa Ana
I.
troitJournal.
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Norwalk Chronicler