Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, October 07, 1901, Image 7

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Atlanta semi-weekly journal., October 07, 1901, Page 7, Image 7

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Newspaper Page TextRheumatism Rheumatic pains are the cries of protest and distress from tortured muscles, aching joint* and excited nerves. The blood has been poisoned by the accumulation of waste natter in the system, and can no longer supple the pore and health sustain ing. food they require. The whole system feel* the effect of this acid poison ; and not until the blood has been purified and brought back to a healthy condition will the aches and pains cease. Mrs. James Kell, of ftrj Ninth street. N. F-. Washington. D. C. write* a* fellows: "A few months ago 1 bad an attack of Sciatic Rheuma tism ia its worst form The pain sea* an intense that I escape completely f* tested The attack was an reßreh unusually severe one. and nr condition was regard eda* being very danger cos. I seas attended by \tari ib ossa of the most able doc- Jha y toes i n W ash i agio a. wbo is also > H-.ee-.be' f th- tteaa and I sronld get w*u. After having it Hied twelve times witnont receiving the slightest benefit. I declined to coetinue hsa treatment any tamer. Having beard of AS. X (Swift's Specific) recommended for Rheumatism, I decided, almoat i« despair however, to give the medicine a trial, and after I had taken a few bottles I was able to hobble around on cratches, and very »<k>a there after ha 1 no nse for them at all, S S S having cored me sound and well. All the gtafiressing pains have left tnc, ay appetite ha* returned, and I am happy to be again restored to perfect health. the great vegetable purifier and tonic, is the ideal remedy in all h- ■ rheumatic troubles. There are no opiates or minerals in it to disturb the digestion and lead to ruinous habits. We have prepared a special book on Phe«vvwati*m woich every sufferer from thea painful disease should read. It is the most complete and interesting book of the kind in existence. It will be sent free to shy one desiring it Write our phyw rixr fully and freely about your case. We TRI SWIFT SPf CIFIC CO., ATtaMTA. 6A MHMMHHHHMBI -** •'* * *, ? it I My Dream. • I dreamvd that 1 wm singlag A Uttlo son« far you; . . Th* happy not** Wfct winging Uke ivHk” •'* thv d*w. My heart a* fredly ptadad Tn strain* by pamton stirred. No wgklng pta rar war* a«ed*d • If you had rely heard. Sweetheart. If yo* had only hoard. Tow glance waa rrief-bagulling It made my narrow fire: I* peerleaa beauty smiling i Ta* gave yo*r heart to me. But night hath fled and morning Brings back the eld heartbreak ■' To meet your ereel aconUag Alaa, why did I wak*. gwgethmrt. Alar, why did I wake! -Samvel Minturn Peck tn Boaton Transcript. The Talisman. Tell me. O Wind of the Wandering Waters, Pinging the viMUant eon* of the sea. Why blow y* th* breath of th* Ortret daagh- MMb That laagoroua. aenae-atirriag perfume, to ma? Why tell ya of tend* where the jeaeamine w ‘ ‘‘elhressnu ■■ Oat-breathing H* epirit 1* tore’s ecatacy- Os garden* where night-long the nightingale Stnffeth Awaiting the coming of tore, and at «n»? Tour witchery. Wind of th* Wandering Water*. Exert ye ta vain. ay*, and fruitless your art When ye chant of the charm of the Orient * Ther^'* , *on«* la the homeland that hoMeth ■» >ear. _ Edß< Kingsley Wallace. Lings to a Child. • Dear little faee. With ptacid brow and etar. uplifted eye*. And prattling lip* that apeak no evil thing. And dimpling smile*, free of falr-aeemtng lie*. Unschooled to ape the dreary world'a preteaae! ffwret imager of clowdleaa innocence! Th* tender**’ flower as Nature's fashioning. A dewy tree amidst the wtidentea*. Amldat the desert a clear welling spring— So ta thy undiarembling loveliness. Dear little face! Dear Httle hand' How sweet it ta to feel against my own Th* touch of this rest palm, which never yet TN* taint of soul destroying gold hath known! Her* Nature s seal of trustfulness is pressed. Even aa her tovtng touch the lily bleared With seal nitre purity—even aa ah* set The golden flame upon the daffodil. And heaven s clear blue upon the violet. May her beat gift* be for thy clasping still. Dear little band! Dear little heart. That never harbored any IU intent. That knows re bittern***, nor doubt. **r care. But only young life'* nestling wonderment. And strange, new Joy*, amidst thy incomplete. Unfledged ensotiona and affections sweet! Veiled, by th* unlived year*, thy field, but there The sowing for thy harvest hath begun. When thou abalt reap and bind, may no de- Rire 7mm that ground betwixt tho* and th* nn. Dear little heart! —Robert Barna Wilson In the Century. AFTER* ALL. W* taka our share of fretting. Os grieving and forgetting; Th* paths ar* often rough and steep, and heedtao* fret may fall: But yet th* days are cheery. And night brings rest when weary. And somehow this old planet ta a good world after all. Though sharp may be our trouble. Th* Joy* are mor* than double. The brave *stpa as th* coward*, and the dead ar* like a wall To guard their dearest rear. To fall th* feeblest never: And somehow this old world remains a bright world, after alt There's always lor* that's caring. And shielding and forbearing. Dear woman's love to hold us close and keep our hearts in thrall; There's borne to share together In calm er stormy weather. And white the hearth-flame burns it ta a good world, after all. • Th* lisp of children's voices. The chance of happy choies. Th* bugle sounds of hope and faith, through fogs and mists that call: The heaven that stretebe* o'er us. The better day* before us. They all combine tn make thia earth a good place, after alt Margaret Sangst er In Woman's Home Com panion. I I ■ J Jt«iaj.ttb*atmkmt nuts. l I J I ■ w| d fortsit flfl* for aar care of I re I ■ iC* I lateraal.Extrr*«k r||chlß( ULtoreM pure the Caere PUe Care* fail* terere. l*ata=iandpermaa«*trsilsf Write at ores, •res* MifllrelCa. m M. M fit.Ctaataaatl. to. Stricture CURED WHILE YOU SLEEP in IS DATS, ■very saffarer tram Btrtetare and Ita Offspring. VARICOCELE, ProetaUUa and Seminal W*ak nere. islnTl ed townie to fltjamev Med al Assn., sodthey wi l send their Illustrated Treatise, show Ing 'be pswtaof th* mate system Involved Pnrr 1* armkrai attaMMta. Sealed PBEPAID-FnEE ST. JAMES MEDICAL ASSOCIATION. St. Janie* Bldg., Cincinnati, O. a ■ -A .. . .1 > rem CM.CHCVTCR’B KNQLIBN is RED s»4 fiteld aMalU* keasa sa*M ! (r U»n, !l«r d yre-t"a«g>M. «r M*i fie. |< » -re are** Sv Prettewlre*. T**Sta*«3ai* B M'UWlwTMnek-wMwVn ■Jk jr I*ra Wail. I*.>as Tnure'Oi MSI.T Cbldkretre Cbamlral Cw-, Mom ita r*r«r M.SU.. Mreiw, PH I LA.. PA. RISING UP OF FRAGRANCE GREEN BY WILLIAM BLOBS. Copyright, IfiOl. by Daily Short Story Pub. Co. In this particular case It would be un just to lay all the blame upon the sotne vrhat rounded shoulders and slightly stooping figure of Fragrance Green htm s*lf His trouble might, Indeed, be termed pre-natal, for It originated long before he had been bom, in the queerly shaped brain of his father, Philip Mace don Green, foreman of th* round house at Harlem Junction. And no fair-minded person should be Inclined to contend 'hat th* pre-natal of a thing casts any serious responsibilities upon the thing itself, when It finds it is growing up awry. Philip Macedon Green hnd himself been b*nL His own father held mildly to a theory that men were for the most part what they felt themselves to be, and also, largely, what other men thought of them, and that both of these opinions were vast ly influenced by what things—that is to say, men—were called. Therefore the grandson Green, having dabbled a trifle in th* fascinating pages of that eminent writer of romance, Mr. Charles Roilin. bestowed upon his first-born son the im posing and almost formidable title of Philip Macedon Green, and then rested upon the oars of his paternity, believing he had done enough for his heir to Insure his becoming either a general or a presi dent. or both. And in some measure the old man's hopes were not born to wither into sad decay, for when he died he had viewed the appointment of Philip Mace don to th* command of the most impor tant post upon the section, and had per sonally presented to four infant grand sons Mlver birthcupa upon whose glisten ing surfaces were engraved names in tended. and in truth well fitted, to fill quit* full the resounding trump of fam*. As who can doubt when viewing them: ALEXANDER MAGNUS GREEN. OLYMPUS ORATOR GREEN. HORATIUS MAXIMUS GREEN. QUARTUB ROMULUS GREEN. And having thus far made life worth liv ing for five gratified legatees, the good nvun—whoae own name had been plain George—laid him down and prepared to die. But so strangely are we knit to our ruling passions, before the breath quite left him he beckoned his daughter-in-law to his lipa and in her inclined ear breath ed a whispered but no leas earnest ques tion. The fair matron could not restrain a becoming blu»h, but murmured a most emphatic affirmative reply to the old man’s inquiry. "In that case.' said he. aloud, and a pleased smile dwelt In the door of hia wrinkled face, “cal! her Fragrance. It ia my dying request, and I lay it •as a charge upon the heads of both of you.” His afflicted heirs having,uttered a du tiful assent to this moot reasonable of last wishes. George Green passed away in peace and was next day accorded such obsequies as befitted a man of ideas and a student of ancient history. How this excellent citizen and father might soon have been forgotten, as is the way of this hurrying world, which pays little enough heed to the living and has no time at all for the dead, had it not been for the occurrence of a most singu lar event, putting all the soothsayers to shamefaced silence and shattering the doctstne of probabilities into a thousand unhappy fragments. For the fifth time Mrs. Philip Mucedon became a proud mother. For the fifth time her source of Jay was* son. Yet. eo inconsistent is lovely woman, at once our riddle and our solace, when this triumphant news was broken to the hear ing of Matron Green, that excellent wo man uttered a cry mingled of pain and wonder and sank upon her pillows quite exhausted, which had not been her wont "I thought you said—” began Philip Macedon, upon whose brow were mar shaled serried phalanxes of perplexed wrinkles. "Never mind what I said.” replied his better part, whose vote* struggled be tween tears and asperity. "It isn't what I said—it's what we promised father!" And her* what th* real masters of uar ration delight in terming a flood of emo tion overbore th* good lady, and she re treated from ths conversation, weeping. "Well.” responded the foreman of the roundhouse, "boy or girl, a promise is a promise, and promises have to be kept.” In this view he is believed to have dif fered from th* wily Macedonian autocrat whose name he bore. Philip the elder con tended that promise* were piecrust and ar* made to be broken. With his silken red hair, his eyes of lapis laxali. his skin as fair as the May apple, his delicate feet and hands, th* dainty poise of hi* childish bearing. Fra grance Green might well indeed have been a girl and have grown up an orna ment to femininity. As it was, his young life, after it had passed cradlehood and crept unwillingly to school, was no less than that of a bearer of burdens. The vein of ridicule pursued him hotly even into mF Afljj I L* J I Then he left his victim. his own home. The boy* jeered him. The girls laughed at him before his face. Hia own brothers called him "Fraggy." The fond breast which should have been his dearest haven and the soft pillow of all his sorrows denied him comfort. Strangely enough, his mother bore to her latest off spring a feeling akin to repulsion. Hia tears were harshly chidden. His open na ture, craving love a* the bee the sweet, th* flower the sun. found for his griefs no maternal sympathies. Only the rough old foreman of th* roundhouse seemed to care for him, and sometimes patting hi* sunny head, declared that Fragranc* would be a man some day. Then out of the deep well of that poor bruised heart would bubble tears of pure delight, that some one loved him. Where at his brothers would call him "cry ba by." and his mother would sneer, when the paternal back was turned. So, cuffed at home, buffetted at school, trodden by savage sneers at his extra ordinary name, his marvelous crown of cardinal, ridiculed because he blushed so easily, derided that when he fought he was always beaten, he grew from an un happy recluse child into a shy and tim orous, lank and gawky youth of eighteen. Then he went to work at the roundhouse —and fell desperately in love with Kitty Breem. As pretty a black-eyed maid of sixteen aa ever knew courtship was Kitty. She had another suitor, too. the strapping Fred Covington, son of the master me chanic, who wooed her hotly, and seemed to meet encouragement until young Green came to work near the Breem cottage. Then for a time all the girl's smiles were culled and kept for this shyest of all shy lovers— who would spend half an even ing in her company and add but twelve words to the conversation. Nevertheless he would ivok into the depths of her THE SEMI-WEEKLY JOURNAL* ATLANTA, GEORGIA, MONDAY; OCTOBER 7, 1901, of black out of the depths of his eyes of blue and find courage to tell her that he loved her. Kittle was quite woman enough to like that. Perhaps it was enough to do. There are different sys tems. One night Covington found them to gether. He said few words, but he piled thick upon Frangrance’s slender body as unmerciful a beating as a boy can en dure and live. Then he left his victim bruised and prostrate with a curt warn ing to k*ep away from there, and went away, laughing contemptuously. The girl had long since fled. She came back, as her disgraced lover dragged himself upon an elbow, and her eves flashed in the night as her words of scorn stung him, even as he "Just Btep outside!” tears of pure rage. “If only he were a man.” was the burden of her plaint. "But I'm not a man,” groaned wretched Fragrance. "Be one, then,” cried Impetuous Kitty, and stamped her little foot so viciously it was a wonder old earth did not swallow. Philip Macedon held long communion that night with one who talloed in whis pers and in the morning jthere was an empty plate at the foremans fireside. The foreman kept his son’s counsel and only he knee- that the boy had gone down to an old rancher friend, whose Fort Sill res ervation range cared for many rough rid ing men gathered there from half the earth for all the reasons under the sun. "Make a man of him, that's all I want. He’s got the grit, but he’s been badly brought up. Do this for me, and man—" the father wrote. •X)ld Man" Bridger smiled grimly as he read the letter. Then he proceeded to carry out his instructions. The boy took to the cowboy life as ducks to water. They called him "Green," down on XL ranch, simply “Green.” In three months he could ride and rope well enough to be worth his salt. In a year he was a young cen taur. At 30 he had grown as straight as one of the plumed young bucks from whom Bridger rented his grazing ground. He could outfoot the fleetest of his mates, wrestle the strongest, outshodt the keenest eyed. His lithe body was steel, his nerves bow strings, as flexible as silk, hard as hickory. Somehow, sometime, he must have written to Kittle during this probation, this evolution. It Is sur?, at least, that on the evening he was 21 he called at her father's cottage in Harlem Junction and the young woman of' 19 who blushtngly met hi* summons did not seem too much surprised as she greeted "Mr. .Green.” However, a scowdng ; hulking visitor to the same little parlor started up in as tonished wrath. "I thought I told you not to come back here without leave. Do you want another licking. Fraggy?” he demanded, vicious ly, as he rose heavily to his feet. "I came to pay a little debt I owe,” re torted Fragrance, easily. "Just step out side. you are my creditor. Covie’” As Covington seemed to hesitate a sinewy arm caught him like a whiplash and dragged the big fellow through the door by the neck. In Harlem Junction the story of that fight lives like a Homeric epic. When it had ended the cowed and fiulten bully crept away into darkness out of which he never came back. Truly it was a glorious thrashing, heavily laid on. and most heavily deserved. Through it ail she who is now Mrs. Fragrance Green cheered on her knight by crying out between her panting breaths that now he was a man indeed. And so thought others, for this thing was not done under a bushel and there were many there to see. To this day these spectators call the victor "Mr. Green.” "Fraggy” disappeared on the day of the wedding, and even the bad brothers have not found him. "They’d better not,” says pretty Kitty snapping her black eye. CASTOR IA Fos Infants and Children. Tie Kind Yoh Ran Always Bought Norwegian Women’s Privileges. The women of Norway who pay tax on an income of at least 300 francs are per mitted to vote on all business matters, the privilege having been granted by the chamber of deputies by a vote of 68 to 17. If glrla were privileged to pop the question no doubt the question referred to would be mor* popular. ■ 4 ?>A —1 "■■■■— l Thia elephant hae swallowed a Cut on the lines and see if you can *iud It. I A TOWN NEARLY PERFECT. i . PORT SUNLIGHT, ENGLAND’S IDEAL SOCIAL COMMUNITY, HAS NO RIVAL—THE HEAD OF IT HAS COME TO STUDY OUR INDUSTRIAL SETTLEMENTS—THE GREAT ADVANTAGES FOR THE WORKMAN IN THE TOWN FOUNDED BY SOAP MANUFACTURERS. New York Sun. The Rev. Mr. Gamble-Walker had been in America only 34 hours. He had spent his one day in talking with workingmen, and he already had an assorted collection of very clear cut impressions. “I want to meet your American work ingmen,” he said. “All my knowledge of Industrial conditions in America has been gained through books. I’ve come over now to see for myself what you are doing.” The American worgingman probably will not know the Rev. Mr. Gamble- Walker when he does meet him, but the British workingman could tell his Ameri can cousin a great many interesting things about the reverend gentleman, and Americans interested tn sociological prob lem* will recognize his name. He is a young man, with possibly 35 years to his credit. Most of them have been years de voted to the problem of social and indus trial betterment. He» has made an earnest study of the conditions of the working class in Great Britain and on the conti nent. He has fought the battle of the slums in the worst' quarters of English towns and he is todays one of the leading ■plrlts in the movement for social and Industrial betterment In his own country. He has absolute charge of the social welfare of Port Sunlight, the Cheshire settlement, founded by- the Levers, the British soap manufacturers, which is the most successful existing illustration of the industrial community. "I hear you are doing some fine thing* in the way of improving labor conditiona, and that some of your wealthy employers are building up very complete communi ties in connection with their works. I want to study all of it. If any have any thing good that we do not have at Sun light, we will have it when I go back. But I don't believe you have. Sunlight has no rival yet. “The natural attitude, or rather the ac quired attitude of the workman toward the employer,'' said Mr. Gamble-Walker, “is one of suspicion and distrust. That can't be overcome in a moment. Mr. Le ver went through all that phase at Sun light, but he had made up his mind what was right before he took a step and hav ing started in he couldn’t be turned from his purpose. He is a man of tremendous strength and of dogged persistence. He said to himself, 'I am succeeding in busi ness. To what do I owe it? To my men. What return can I make them?’ He an swered thgt question by Sunlight. “Now, ten years have gone by. He has what.is undoubtedly tl- most contented and happiest set of workmen in the world. The very men who made trouble at first, who thought they were being fooled, are the frankest in acknowledging that they were blind fQOlfi. There are a few grum blers in the community. There are al ways men who if you give them boots will kick you with them, but these chron ic malcontents are ao few that they do riot count in guy way. “Appreciative?. They are. I know them through and through and 1 give you my word that they are happy, contented, eager to help on the welfare of the com munity. They tfould do anything rather than lose a job at the works. Sometimes lads go’out from the community. We give all the Children good elementary schooling and supplementary work in sci ence, French, shorthand, wood carving, color designing arid other technical branches. there ia not a place in the works for a lad, or such work does not appeal to him, or he has a boy’s ad venturous longing to get out and see the world. It is all right for him to go. We give him all the aid we can. Almost in variably he soon wrifies for a place on our waiting liM 'ahd becomes back. The work world is a berirtj'la surprise to ♦ lad who has been up in that com munity and belfeves piat justice, fairness, decency and comfort! are the rule of the world. ' ’ "Why, I tell you that life has written itself on the faces of pur people until they look quite different from the people of other villages. They aren't all saints, but there is a certain cohtent in their faces and cheerfulness in their manners. Their nerves arefi’t worn tb shreds. “We do not know what labor trouble means at the Sunlight works. The men are satisfied and intensely interested in the welfare of tjie business. The social affairs of the village are entirely inde pendent of the works. We never sit down and ask. ‘How will this affect the works?’ The question isn’t even in the background. It doesn't exist. The works pay fair wages. The village furnishes good work men. There hi all th* connection. There are £400,000 (2 million dollars) sunk in that village and not a penny’s return is asked from it. All that Mr. Lever asks is that rents shall be arranged so that they will just cover taxes, repairs and mainten ance. The village is •self-supporting. That is all. There are 600 houses, every one picturesque, every one planned with the keenest attention to problems of sanita tion and comfort. The architecture is va ried. Each house has its lawn and gar den.” ' "Are the rents* reasonable?” asked the reporter. Mr. Gamble-Walker laughed. “No, they are unreasonable—unreason ably low.' Houses with parlor, kitchen, scullery, pantry, four bedrooms and a bathroom rent for. 5 shillings a week. That's about $1.26 in your money. "Os course, all our workmen don’t live in the village. The works employ .about 3.000 workmen. Many of them live i$ sur rounding parishes or in Birkenhead or Liverpool. We have a number of single women, and almost all of them live with parents, .who work outside of Sunlight. The- girls live at home and come to their work, but all employes of the works have a right to the social privileges of the village—to the reading rooms, bowling alleys, billiard rooms, gymnasium, swim ming pools, clubs, classes, entertainments, etc. We have just built a £20,000 ($100,000) restaurant particularly for the benefit' of the girls who come from a distance and need a midday dinner. They pay for it because we find that a thing paid for is always valued above a thing given, no matter how small the amount may be; but a girl pays only tuppence (4 cents) for hot meat and two vegetables. The charge for admission to the classes in i dressmaking, cooking, laundry, etc., is a penny (2 cents) a week. "The boys’ and men’s clubs are crowded. We have a Parliamentary Debating so ciety. conducted on the rules of the house of commons, similar officers and aIL The men are elected to constituencies. Bills are introduced and debated according to regular order. It’s an object lesson in civic government and it is astonishing how those men take to it. They under stand just what is going on In the gov ernment. They follow everything. They are intelligent voters. A large percentage of our British workmen know nothing aoout politics and will throw a vote for a glass of beer, but they aren’t like that in our village. "We have a Householders’ association, too. It elects a village council which looks after the welfare of the village in all its details. In earnest? Well, you should see them. When we decide that anything is actually necessary to the welfare of the village—anything we cannot do ourselves— we report to Mr. Lever. Then the thing is done.’" - • “I suppose there is no publie house in the village.” "No; there Is a beautiful inn but no liquor Is sold in it. However, we are only half a mile from a village where there are public houses to spare." "Do you have much trouble with drunk enness among your men?” "Practically none. I know that sounds improbable, but I know what I am talk ing about. As a matter of fact, the men are so comfortable and so well entertain ed in the village that they don’t seem to care to go anywhere, where they would get liquor. Then public sentiment is strongly against drink. The men know they have a good thing and don’t want to risk their jobs or make themselves un popular. I confess it is surprising to me to find how small a number of the men urink at all.” “If one doesn't reform he is dropped from the works?” “I suppose he would be dropped if he proved hopeless and moral suasion failed to straighten him out. but I give you my word I do not know of such a case in the history of the community. Certainly there has been non* within my time. Public sentiment and example are powerful forces, and life is so clean that there is little temptation. "I’ve told you about some of our amuse ments. We have smokers, concerts, lec tures. We are building a summer theatre on the continental plan where a man may go with his wife and sit out in the open and see a good, clean play well given. We have a band of our own, a fire brigade of our own. We have three good shops which supply all necessaries and are run by a committee of the people for the benefit of the people. If the women want more elab orate shopping it is only four miles to Liverpool. I didn’t tell you, though, that a free accommodation train is run from Liverpool for the benefit of the employes who do not live in the village.” "Are any religious observances obliga tory?” Mr? Gamble-Walker threw back his head as if at a challenge. “Nothing is obligatory, nothing save de cency. A man must be a free man. So long as a man does good work and lives decently, he is free as air. He need do nothing he does not choose to do. I try to make religion a part of the village life. Most ■of the men are interested in the church, particularly In the talks dealing with social Christianity, but they are their own masters. Long ago I found out that prayer meetings and sermons are not the alpha and the omega of religious work. I believe that the measure of our social ser vice is the measure of our acceptability to I God. I am giving my life to social service, jin that belief.” : ■ The Englishman had warmed into en thusiasm. He is tall, slender, a trifle pale, but no ascetic. His gray-blue eyes set rather wide apart, look at one squarely. At first glance, he would not Impress one with his force. Talk with him for five minutes and you feel the flood of determi nation and nervous energy that moves him. He Is not desperately in earnest, but rationally in earnest, no fanatic, no dreamer of Utopias, but a level-headed worker in social fields. "I went from the Manchester slums to Sunlight, from the infernal pit to a bit of heaven,” he said. '"I was needed where I am. I believe the object lesson such a community shows to all of England will hurry on what must come. “Do you know our slums? There are none worse In the world, and the worst of the business is that most of our slum property Is owned by our wealthy men, who give largely to charity. Giving money won’t do. Once let the working people of England realize that they have a right to be decently housed and the bal lot will Wipe out tne slums. But that means education, that means industrial betterment. The workingman’s vote must become intelligent first. “It is the only solution; I feel absolutely certain of that. Every atom of my study and experience points to it. Mutual con fidence between employer and employed; there Is the one thing necessary to suc cessful Industry. We have it at Sunlight. There is no feud between man and mas ter. As one of the workmen said to me the other day: ‘Well, we can’t get along without Mr. Lever, and hanged if he can get along without us.’ "I’ve a notion you wrtll develop the idea faster than we, but if I’ve got a right idea from my books, you’ve one problem t» face that doesn’t bother us. Your workingman makes money too fast, and wants to climb, climb, climb, irrespective of the sort of foundation he has laid. Possibilities are too great for content here. We have some of the same thing, but our men of that type have less chance than yours, and become sulky, disconten ted. vicious. However, the mass of our workmen would be contented to do good, honest work under absolutely fair con ditions. I hope I’ll know more about what yours want after I’ve been among them for eight weeks." Jl*at, M*»lUk and Comfort t® Mother and Child. . MRS. WINSLOW’S SOOTHING SYRUP, for children teething, softens the gums, reduces inflammation, allays all pain, and cure* wind colic. Perfectly safe in all cases. We would say to every mother who ha* a suffering child: Do not let your prejudice, nor the prejudices of others, stand between you and your suffer ing child and tho relief that will be sure—yes, absolutely sure—to follow the use of this medicine, if timely used. PriceaSc. a bottle. Entirely Too Literal. London Tit-Bits. They seldom gave dinner parties, and what they gave were small. But they liked things done decently and in order, and generally had the best. On the afternoon of one of th* little parties the host sum moned the boy in buttons and said to him: "Now, John, you must be very care ful how you hand round the wine.” "Yes. sir.” "Thee* bottles with the black seals are the best and these with the red seals the inferior sherry. The best sherry is for af ter dinner; the inferior sherry you will hand around with the hock after soup. You understand—hock and inferior sherry after soup?" "Yes, sir, perfectly,’ responded the boy in buttons. , The evening came, and with it the guests. Everything went on swimmingly till the boy went round the table asking each of the guests, "Hock or inferior sherry?*’ thFworld’s work. The World’s Work is one of the most in teresting and instructive of all the maga sihes published. It is issued once a month and Is a book in Itself. We will send The World’s Work for three months, together with the Semi-Weekly Journal for on* year, for the sum of $1.25. This is an ex cellent opportunity to procure one of the best of th* magazines at an introductory price. IWINCHESTERI ■ CARTRIDGES LN AL L* CALI BE R S I H from .22 to .50 loaded with either Black or Smokeless Powder K < always give entire satisfaction. They are made and loaded in a ||| S' modern manner, by exact machinery operated by skilled experts. | THEY SHQQT WHERE YOU HOLD » ALWAYS ASK FORTHEM. | The Three of ffohrrville. BY GEORGE ADE. Copyright, 1901, by Robert Howard Russell. John the First was living on the Fringe of Civilization, but he wanted to get away from it altogether. So he packed his whole Kit and Caboodle In to Prairie Schooner that bad a Jug of Apple Jack hidden in the Straw. This was in the Good Old Days when we had no Dog Parties at Newport and the Millionaire was a Rare Bird. John the First was a Poor White, but the fact never depressed him a* long as the Plug Tobacco held out. He kept his face toward the Setting Sun for many Days. Now and then the Sharp Crack of a Rifle would ring out on the Frosty Air and another Red- Skin would bite the Dust. John was 1,500 miles from * Shower Bath and didn’t give a Continental. His home spun Suit fit him too soon and the dust of the Trail was in his Whiskers; but in those Days a Pioneer didn’t travel on his Looks. John was roottn’-toot ln’, fightin’ and ehootin' Border Ruf fian from the remote Head Waters of. Bitter Crick. He didn’t own such a thing as a Boiled Shirt, and little did he suspect that some day his Posterity would be playing Golf. John was an Empire Builder, but he did not know it. He headed for the Boundless West so that he could find plenty of Big Game and put in about 2 acres of Corn and not have to Work. At last he squatted on the Banks of a Stream where Fishing was good. He put up a log Shack and proposed to a broad faced Squaw, who gently but firmly gave him the Mitten". Bearing up under this Disappointment, he con tinued to pitch Horse-Shoes, hodray for Andrew Jackson and take Ague Medicine. One day he snaked a Piece of Cali co off of a passing Emigrant Wagon. When they were spliced by a Horse Doctor they could not foresee that this was the beginning of the House of John. Soon after this he traded a gallon of 40-Rod for 600 acres of Land, such as it was. The Steamboats came up the River and stopped at John’s Landing. It was called John’s Landing, not be cause of any desire to do Honor tp the low-down Trash, but because John was the whole Settlement. By and by there was a row of Low Houses, called Main Street. Also a General Store. Then John’s old Adversary, the Chllls-and- Fever, got a jim-tree Coll on him and he cashed in. John the Second fell 4nto the 6W Acres of Scrub Timber because no one had been foolish enough to buy It from the Old Man. The Railroad came along and cut through it and then John’s subdivision swa: g in with the Real Estate Boom. John the Second began to wear a Paper Collar on Sun days and he lived in a House that had a Bay Window on one side. His Fami ly wore boughten Clothes and played Croquet. About this time it was dis covered that John the First had pos sessed wonderful Fore-Sight. The land he bought was now sprinkled with Frame Houses, Lutheran Churches, Saloons and Drug Stores and was selling at so much a front Foot. John the Second was known as a Prominent Citizen and became Director in a Bank. He put his Napkin around hia Neck at the Table anjl got balled up on his Grammar but he was there with the Dough, so a good many Allowances were made. When the Governor of the State came swinging around the Cir cle he put up at John’s. House and af ter that he was addressed as Hon. John, and at times his Wife compelled him to wear a Necktie. He switched from Cheroots to 10-cent Cigars and had a second Bay Window pfit on the House, and it was whispered around that John was throwing on a Heap of Dog. When he finally sfiiuffied, he had over two miles of Buggies and Car riages follow him to the Grave-Yard. The Bereaved family put up a Marble Shaft as tall ris a Smoke-Stack. John the Third received a Collegiate Education and discovered a Family Crest. He learned that Ms Ancestors had fought with the Stuarts. But he didn't say anything about his GrafiA • father fighting with —e Mosquitoes. He had his Clothes made in New York ‘ and Used a Quart of Florida Water every day. He sprinkled the .Rugs with it. being a Gentleman in tevery sense of the word. After building a House that cost ever so much, he re|| fl spent most of his time at the Waldorf- Astoria. The reason was that the Family could not find suitable Society 4n JoMiville. And where they went they did not find anything else. The ordinary Plugs had to put on Smoked Glasses when they looked at the members of the John family. Any one in Johnville who was invited to Dine at the Big House was given such a Lift that he didn’t touch anything but the High Spots for a week after ward. One Day a Stranger in town saw all the People falling off the Sidewalk and groveling in the Dust before the Au gust Presence of John the Third. "Why does every one Kow-Tow to the Gentleman with the Aristocratic Features?" he asked. "Sh-h-h!” said his Friend. He comes of a very Old Family.” MORAL: Truth is stranger than Fiction, especially in a Democracy. THE SUMMER IS ENDED. Wreathe no more lilies in my hair. For I am dying. Stater sweet; ' Or, if you will for the last time Indeed, why make me fair' Once for my wtnding sheet. Pluck no more roses for my brrart. For I, like them, fade fn my prime; Or. if you wllL why pluck them still. That they may share my rest \ Once more for the last time. Weep not for me when I am gone. Pear t«x?er one. but hope and smile: Or. !“ v ■ > can not chooee but weep, A h'.Ue while, weep on, Only a Httle while. —C. G. Roseettl. Pearls of Tennessee. Northville (Tenn.) News. The greet Tiffany is authority for the statement that the finest pink pearls in the world come from the mountain streams of Tennessee, and it is interesting to observe how rapidly fashion is appro priating the finest of these gems for her ovrn insistent needs. Only those of per fect spherical form and brilliant lustre were accepted and the prices were corre spondingly high. Many really beautiful pearls that were not round nor pear shaped were actually flung into the water again because of their odd shapes, that rendered them valueless. Sometime* * fool man begins by paying a woman compliment* and end* by paying her alimony. CONSTIPATION I Inward Piles. Fullness of the Blood la th* Head. Acidity of tho Stomach, Nausea, Heartbum, Disgust of Food, Fullness of Weight in th* Stomach. Sour Ecrutations, Sinking or Fluttering of the Heart, Chok ing or Suffocating Senaatlons when in ly ing pasture. Dimness of Vision, Dizzi ness on rising suddenly. Dots or Webs be fore th* Sight. Fever and Dull Pain in the head. Deficiency of Perspiration. Yel lowness of the Skin and Eyes. Pain in the Side, Chest, Limbs and Sffdden Flushes of Heat. Burning in the Flesh. A few doses of DAD WAY’S « PILLS, •rill free the system of all the abov* named disorders. Price, 25 cents per box. Sold by all druggists, er sent by mall on receipt of price. Radway &. C0.,55E1m St..N.Y. THE NEW YORK WORLD Vhrice-a-week edition. Almost a Daily at the Price of a Weekly. Tb* presidential campaign is over, but the worM gore on just tb* same and it to full of new*. To learn this news, just as It ta—promptly and impartially—all that you have to do 1* to look in the column* es The Thrlce-a-Week edition of the New York World which eomes to the aubeertb er IM time* a year. Th* Thrlee-a-Week World’s diligence as a publisher of first naw* has given it circulation wherever the English lan guage is spoken—and you want it , Th* Thrice-a- Week . orld’s regular sub scription pries is only SI.OO per year. We offer this great newspaper and Th* Semi- Weekly Journal together one year for ll.to. Th* regular subscription pric* at the two papers is $t.M, 7