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SEPTEMBER 15. 1906.
THE SUNNY SOUTH
FIFTH <PAGE
SPEED MJIMIA,
The Only Cure For
Which Seems Heath
. Tom Cooper Preparing for a Record Breaking Spin.
UK speed mania is the one | race on ad aides like so many jackstraws.] on a very dusty track. His black eyes
disease for which there is John Scott and Nathan Montgomery, two ! shine in demoniac joy, his long black hair
Paudeen in theWoods
AUDIiEN, who was the son
of Faddy Fox, was the
type of which the Almighty
has been pleased to make
many little boys. iHis hair
was red and very rough,
his eyes were light blue,
his upper lip was long and
his nose short. He only
differed from other little
boys in that he made less
noise.
He was neither very lazy
nor very naughty, but he
spent a great portion of his school hours
In looking out of the window toward
Slleveross. The time he spent in learn
ing his lessons seemed to him profitless,
hut when he looked across the acres of
little fields and waste land toward the
wooded slopes of Slieveross he felt his
heart burn within him.
Paudeen had never been to the woods
of Slieveross. When lie suggested that
he should go there his mother said "Xo,"
and his father, rubbing liis chin with his
hard, dirty hand, told strange legends of
the woods, of girls who had been stolon
away by the fairies, of little boyfe who
had followed the Intricacies of some
woodland path never to return home.
Then Paudeen. listening with apparent
terror, felt his pulses throb and fancied
that some elfin bugle called him toward
the woods.
Why Paudeen loved trees with a pas
sion almost unknown to his companions
is not explicable. The reason of it is
stored away in some dim rune of circum
stance or chance. He never mentioned it
to others, although his fame as a mighty
so that he was on a levef with the heads
of those that thronged about him.
“There’s been no one to be king of the
woods since your grandfather died, Pau
deen, ” said the hazel. “And now I
whisper to hint where he lies asleep be
low the church, but 'tls no answer I get.”
“Would you not have Davy McGill,
who's the fine boy?” Paudeen asked In
his small, treble voice.
“Davy Is nothing to us. nor wo to
him," said the birch, “but we know you.
Sure there's not a day I don’t put the
comether on you, when you're working
down there at those pisthogues of let
ters and figures.”
"And don’t 1 tap on the chapel window,
Paudeen? said the? oeecli, “so that
you’re nigh mad to be out of doors and
climbin’ in my branches.”
Paudeen stared at them and sucked
Ills finger and laughed gleefully.
“Och! didn't I know it all along?”
said he. and he rubbed his rough head
against the beech tree with a cat-like
motion.
To amuse Paudeen the trees told him
stories, for they knew all that had over
happened to man and child and beast
in that county; and they could sing of
those things for which the heart finds no
words. Hut In the middle of the elm
tree's song Paudeen fell asleep with his
arms about the beech tree-s neck
He fell asleep and dreamt bis old
dreams again; that he lay In a golden
cradle, among the treetops.
Perhaps he dreamt that the cradle
swung too fast and fell, for he awoke
with n start and found the moon shining
upon him. He was sitting on the top-
climber was envied even in the remote j - 1>ranch of a big beech tree, his arms
village of Letterbrack where his aunt re- j J^bStH the trunk. When he saw
Fate, who has some regard for the ex-j t * ie nl d° n lie remembered his f' 1 . .min nc • on-,m.v, .,uu
travagant endeavors of childhod, showed I father, and that he was none 1 ‘ i i, avc been playing the fool with Meredith
» ♦
| A Lesson in Love Tactics l
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HE full realization of her
love for Meredith came to
Helen as she watched him
enter the drawing room
with the avowed intention
of proposing to her cousin
Uweneth.
In her eyes still lingered
the incredulous smile with
which she had listened to
his announcement, but as
the door closed behind him
came the appalling convic
tion that he had meant
what he said.
Life without Meredith—her Meredith—
the husband of Gweneth; such ideas were
insupportable With her hand (pressed
to her wildly beating heart, she turned
and flew upstairs to the workroom.
Her brother was busy there carpenter
ing. and not in the mood tor Interruption.
•'Shut the door, please,’ 'lie cried, without
looking irp; 'the wind blows Ihe shavings
about.”
Helen complied, then sat down at his
side.
'Tom.” siie said, in a strangled voice,
"something dreadful lias happened. Mer
edith lias gone to ask Gweneth to marry
him—he told me so himself.”
This sudden information proved discon
certing- lo the young man; his hand
swerved and he cut a deep notch in the
board he was planing for carving.
“Gammon!” lie cried, with twofold dis
gust; “what will you tell me next?” Then
he looked up and caught sight of his sis
ter’s face. His own changed Instantly,
and he put down his plane.
‘The truth is.” he saM sternly, "you
no cure.
Once a man becomes in
oculated with the germ of
fast flight he never slows
up.
The careers of Oldfield,
Kiser, Cooper and Webb
Jay prove this. They were
bicycle riders till some
thing faster came along in
Ihe form of the auto. If
modern skill produced
something that could go more rapidly
ei ill. they would promptly adopt that.
These men have figured in harrowing
e oidents. Their machines have killed, 1
others and seriously injured themselves. ■
In the revolt that followed these trage- j
dies they have sworn to give up auto j
racing, but the fascination has always
been too strong, and they were soon back J
again. In fact it is safe to say that none |
will retire till he meets the inevitable i
death or disabling injury that must come ;
to the professional chauffeur who makes]
I,is living by match racing over circular j
tiacks.
Kiser and Webb Jay have already re- j
reived the summons that took them out
of the game.
It was at Kenilworth Park. Buffalo. !
August 18, I9C5, that Jay swerved from !
the track while speeding in his machine,
j 1 inged down an embankment, broke his ]
tight arm, left tliigh, seven ribs and'
s ustained a concussion of the brain. j
This accident followed hard upon one]
it 11ai had put Karl Kiser out of business.!
This happened in Cleveland six days be- ,
fore Ihe Jay accident.
Kiser was going a: the rate of a mile |
a minute in view of five thousand persons ]
on the Glenvllle track, when his machine j
skidded, and he lost control. The auto
swerved toward the fence, then jumped
about four feet in the air, and came down i
Into the fence with a crash, pulling down |
a section of the boards thirty feet in i
length. The machine came down upon'
Kiser. An instant later it caught Are,
end only fast work in getting Kiser out
kept hint from being burned in addition
to all his other injuries.
DEATH ONLY CURE.
spectators, were Instantly killed, anu
when Oldfield was picked up it was
thought he had no chance to survive.
Four of his ribs were broken, his leg was
shattered, brain contused, and -the shock
left hint a nervous wreck for a time.
Oldfield recovered, and when he did his
first remark was that he was done with
auto racing.
"I do not care about myself,” he said,
’’but the thought of those two innocent
onlookers killed, haunts me night an 1
day, and I shall never touch a wheel
again.”
BEGAN EARLY.
But much as he meant it, he couldn t
keep out. From the time he left Indiana
as a youngster, the one consuming aim
of his life had been speed. As a bicycle
rider he had won the reputation of being
especially daring, though his future auto
mobile rivals. Cooper and Bald, were both
far fleeter on the bicycle than Barney.
From riding a wheel he became a
; Is given freely to the winds, for he wears
! no cap, and he is oblivious to the specta-
I tors. The joy of this lightning traveling
! is all he knows, and he himsetf
j has said that in these fast 'flights he
I gives himself little thought of the record
| he has set out to annihilate.
IT PAYS, TOO.
! Bald's body is a mass of scars and
i bruises from head to foot, so it was in
' the days when he was the sprint bicycls
! champion of the United States. Bald is
[ a big man, powerfully put together .his
■ injuries have all come to him as a result
I of that reckless dare deviltry without
which no man can hope to be a cham
pion motor driver.
Take Oldfield and Kiser, Bald has al
ways been deeply bitten by the speed
mania, and when he could not ride a
wheel or an auto he spent his time stu
dying the race horses, and traveling be
hind the flyers of the big tracks. Only
sudden favor to Paudeen. On this oc- Paudeen Fox.
casion Fate masqueraded as his mother.
“Will I send you to your aunt, avic?”
said Mrs. Fox, in her strident, kindly
He climbed down to the path end
stood for a second in the moonlight,
then swiftly he ©prang toward the
the honeysuckle beckoned. a nd the mid-
hom e
Divv
volee, “there’s Davy MlcGill, the decent j beech and clasping Ida arms and legs
boy. gain’ to Letterbrack on the old car, ] a bout the trunk, he bit the bark In a
says he'll b e givin' you a lift. The ’ pass i on of exultation.
father an' I are gohT to the tair beyant ^ ran along . a lane without swerving
there at Knoekdoon, so mind yourself, . h the Raises nodded at him, and
Paudeen. an’ you might be takln’ a par- - - ’ *'—
cel of sugarstiek to your Cousin Kate,
an’ a screw of tay to yout aunt.”
The long road to Letterbrack passed by
desolate moors where the peewit called, j
by fields where the daisies nodded like]
the armies of fairyland, by mottled gran-j
ile walls where the yellowhainmer
perched and sang, and by woods haunted
of squirrels and rabbits.
When they came in sight of Letter-
brack Davy spoke;
"How will you go hack, Paudeen?”
said he, “for I’m goin’ on to Mr. Ma
lone to see if f can sell him th e car."
"An’ why wouldn’t T walk?” said Pau
deen carelessly, “wid the l r *gs on me
rustin for want of work. i
Davy looked down at him-
“God save you, Paddy, you're no big- I
ger than a sugar stick; his a great walk j
back.”
“Oh! I'll be doin' it aisy now.”
“To go by Slieveross would foe shorter,;
bu.t if”you*Tl lose your way t'would be,
■bad. and there's quare stories told of the
woods.”
“Och! Davy. I'll be gettin' back on my]
head or my heels before night time, never i
fear, and thank you kindly.
But he was two miles from
when he ran i nto tl,e arms
McGill, who clutched him and sobbed
aloud.
“God be praised! Paudeen. jour
mother was fit to have the life of me.
not looking after you, and she and
, your father there are turnin’ the world
j inside out to find you. ’Tis afther ten.
| and you to go get lost that way, wir-
j rah! wlrrah!”
I ‘‘An’ you saw me in the woods, Davy
I you fox, an’ you made out not to see
I me, at all!” said the child.
“I never saw you. Paudeen.”
| “Davy, you’re tii« old sarpint. you
flung a cone at me where I W'arf sittiu’
! by the path.”
! “Paudeen, you're the sarpint yourself.
I saw no more than a hare in Slieve-
: ross; it sat so quiet I flung a cone at
' it and hit it.”
“Davy, you’re the boyo! Did you not
see the quare one- dancin' about you?
_ , “God save us, Paudeen, I niver saw a
Paudeen scrambled hastily off the car , gowJi barrin’ myself.”
and made off toward his aunt s caotn. j .. Did ye no . t see Themselves?”
He had no mind- for questions. This ex- ... Tjs g dhrame you had. Paudeen.”!
plained a certain brilliance in lus ct,m01 ' “Maybe it was,” said Paudeen, as he j
sation during the visit; he ,eareu any sag- pan an( | clasped his father about the ]
gestions as to his return/ j knees.
“ WeU I’m like to be Flakin’ off wid. He’s lettin’ on that Themselves '
myself ’now. Aunt Biddy,” sail the cun- ed him,” said Davy, with a set
-goodby, Katie, an' don't ate j ot righteous anger.
1 gave you credit for more, sense. He is
r.ot a boy to be attracted by silly caprice.
Meredith is a man of the world and my
best friend. He has made no secret to
me of this 'fondness for you. It was quite
understood between us that the object of
his visit this week-end was to clinch mat
ters with you. You cannot say,” he con
cluded, with some rei.iroach, “that 1 did
rot give you a hint as to his intentions.”
summer moon laughed over the shoul- j Helen fidgeted. “That's just it,' ’she said
der of Slieveross. The lane led him to | miserably. “You see—1 knew why he
the road and the road guided him home
was coming.
“You may condemn me,” Helen said,
meeting his gaze witli some dignity, "but
most girls under the circumstances would
have done the same.”
’’Girls!” cried her brother, almost be
side himself with chagrin and disap
pointment; “yes—you are right there;
it is not enough for them to have a man’s
honest love; they most make a fool—a
spectacle—of him to their friends.
Pshaw!”
“Don’t,” Helen faltered, in a chokjj
voice. “My heart's broken; is not that
enough?” she was silent, then she looked
up with tears on her lashes. “Tom,
j dear,” she said, “try to understand me:
| think—if you iwere about to propose to a
i girl—world j-ou like her, by her manne .
j to any way anticipate your doing so?”
I Tom's brown eyes met his sister’s at
j last comprehendingly. No.” he said
j stoutlj-, “I don't know .that I should.”
j “Well.” Helen 'falter, d. blushing to the! would “be to tow
] tips of her little pink ears, “you se
the veranda. Gweneth had for ones
dropped her knitting, and was holding a
'flower in her hand, and Meredith was
near her talking in a low voice.
Tom felt his sister’s ringers tighten on
Ids arm. They hurried down the garden
path unseen. Near the bank the boat
lay moored, the cushion and oars ready
therein. A moment or two more, and
the brother and sister were going swiftly
down stream, and the house was out of
sight.
Helen ,took advantage of the gloaming,
and when her attention was not claimed
by steering cried softly unseen. “They
will say,” she declared presently, “that
Gweneth has cut me out.”
“I am afraid we must admit the tact,”
her 'brother answered mercilessly.
"All the same.” Helen declared with
spirit, "it is I whom Meredith loves—a
woman always knows,” she said, triumph
creeping into her voice. Then she began
to laugh. “1 must laugh,” she explained,
with tears in her eyes. “Think of Gwen
eth as Meredith's wife; she won't under
stand him in the least. Site will think
him cross when he is only enthusiastic,
and vulgar when lie is witty; she never,
you know, saw a joke in her life; and
the smell of tobacco is abomination to
her.” Her voice had 'trailed into a sob.
Tom's endurance had run out. “I
may,” lie said, with suppressed wrath,
"lack imagination, and I am not a wom
an, ibut even did I suffer from both in
firmities, I’m hanged if I’d care a tinker's
curse for a man who had behaved in
such a manner. But,” he concluded
loftily, “I do not understand women.”
From .the woods through -which the
stream ran came now the soughing of
wind in the tree tops, and tiny wavelets
began to stir the surface of the river.
“There will be rain,” Tom said, "and
you have no coat. We had better turn—
there is barely time to get back for din
ner.”
The words, simple in themselves,
brought fresh agony to Helen. Life was
to be lived, dinner to be eaten, -though
Meredith was lost to her. Despair clutch
ed her heart, death' with Its oblivion
seemed kind; she looked down into the
darkening waiters.
"Be careful how you steer,” cried Tom,
as he turned ,the boat—“the light's
queer.”
Carefulness and Helen were at that
moment antipodal—a watery grave allur
ing from a world empty of Meredith.
Gathering gloom, the narrowness of the
stream did the res-t—a moment later the
boat ran into the opposite bank with an
ominous gratfhg sound. Tom swore hor
ribly. Helen put her fingers to her ears.
“Save yourself, dear,” she cried; don’t
mind me—I prefer to die.”
“Catch that oar and don’t be an Idiot!”
yelled Tom. Something white gilded by
swiftiy. and was lost in the darkness.
It was useless to go on with one oar
and the stream against them. Having
exhausted nls Imprecatory vocabulary.
Tom discovered the water to -be shallow
enough, and in sullen displeasure assist
ed his sister to the bank above. Further
investigation proved that the best plan
the 'boat home.
, . , . , “We shall be horribly late for dinner
knowing what I did—whatever he would. | Tom
I wouldn't.”
lie
Walter Christie Gratifying His Mania for Speed.
fireman on the fastest loc-omoti
this was too slow traveling for the
but
speed
H-;s leg was lacerated to a pulp, and ] demon. Then along came the auto tlia
had to be removed at the thigh.
I „
atisfied all his cravings, and now Old-
It might have been supposed that these! field can go as fast as he wants,
horrible accidents coming so closely to-i Two years before the St. L-otiis accident,
geCher would have had the effect of scar- j Oldfield had a notch on the wheel of his
ing the other speed kings, but only death] machine. The tragedy occurred at the
will ever take out Oldfield, Cooper, Bala Crosse Point track, in Detroit, when the
end a constantly increasing host of others] tire on his front wheel burned through
out of the game. ! and exploded, throwing his machine into
Oldfield is probably the most reckless) the fence, and so injuring a man nam°d
man who ever competed in any trial of I Frank Shearer that he died on the way
speed. His theory of winning races is] to the hospital.
always to Increase the speed at the points! His next narrow escape came at the
■w.iere it is so dangerous that other drivers Ormond-Daytona beach in Florida. The
ee.se up a bit. On the most dangerous | crank shaft broke, while his machine was
turns Oldfield takes a delight In shooting wheeling of miles in forty seconds. The
fas’er to the mingled winder and horror) car spun around, and headed for tlie
of his fellows. i ocean, hut Oldfield succeeded in stopping
He has been m more accidents, caused it before it overturned. He was badly
more fatalities and broken more records shaken up, but was out again and racing
than any auto driver in the business, the next day.
and he makes no secret that he expects Later in Detroit his machine collided
lo get hts death while engaging in his with another, and went through a board
favorite sport. fence into the inner field. His heal
“One of these days," Is his favorite; just escaped the top board of the fenc-e,
speech, “there will be a little flaw in a which -probably means that he bareiy
piece of steel, and after it Is all over—j missed decapitation. His scalp was al
and It won't take longer than the tick, most torn from his -head, and his right
ot a -watch—people will say, 'Weil, Old-! arm dislocated.
field was going some.’ ” I After all this, it is a marvel that Old-
Probably his nearest approach to death. Held doesn’t quit the game, hut the fact
was a: League Park, St. Louis, when i»- j;, that he can’t bring himself to do so.
was racing A. C. Webb. The dust raised, q-) ie spirit of dare deviltry is in his veins,
by his competitor's machine temporarily, when on a bicycle he was happiest w-her.
onscurod Oldfield's view of the track, and riding down a forty degree -plane,
his machine slipped just a trifle. He lost j n the prospect of a fast trial of his )
control of it on the un-banked curve of j green dragon, he is an awe inspiring
the back stretch, and It slashed Into the 1 piece of machinery. He smokes inees-
fence, throwing the dense crowd of men] santly, but eschew-s food. He sits low li
and women who had been watching -the, the car, and never wears goggles unless
Oldfield will attempt more on a track
than Bald.
Cooper has made a fortune from nis
speed craze, in iwliich respect he Is per
haps more fortunate than most of ht3
rivals. At the time when he was cham
pion sprinter, in 1889, it was said that nt
has had amassed more than $50,000. and
his venture into the field of auto speed
ing has served to considerably augment
this sum.
It has been demonstrated that the bicy
cle is the best training for the profes
sional auto driver, most, of whose work
must be done on the circular track. In
ning one. i”’” Paudeen’s distracted parents,
up the sugar sticks too quick, tis a gran .. He went , !o s i eep with a thankful
night; such weather tor the hay; God be. ] iearl( and dreamt that he danced with
praised, I’ll be Idlin' them of the fine j t Pe trees in Silveross, and taht the
chickens you have here.” | beech swung him in -its arms. He talked
Ml th ; s ‘ time he was getting farther | in his sleep and muttered strangle, so
, „ .. _ . .i„„ t . .... i;,ar! that Mrs. Fox, who was a supersli-
and farmer away from 1 ’ ‘ ] tious soul, took him to the wise woman
at last lie felt he might with proptt y j w j 10 ]j Ve< j beyond Clancy's farm. She
turn his back and scuttle down the road, j looked at Paudeen for two minutes in
\fter having gone a little way down ] silence, then she patted lt-is head and
the road he turned across a field and i laughed. ,
made his wav toward SUeveross-H,:soon
found himself on me to ' yours knows their pisthogutas batter
among bowlders and foxgloves and wrack-j ^) 1an you or j do. Airs. Fox, dear, bt
en, and among startled sheep. Paudeen s j ais.v now.”
heart was on lire in his breast. He climb
ed steadilj', until he reached a rough track
that led Itfm up to the shoulder of the
mountain.
At last he stood on a rock and over
looked the woods thait stretched into the
valley. The. wind blew in his red hair,
and the wind played over the wide field
of the tree tops, that were swaying and
changing, and silvering and darkening
below him.
He sat down on a bowlder and took off
and Pau-
the former sport is gained a knowledge , jjj s s h 0 es and stockings, for -the oespoke
of how to negotiate the turns so as to j a Htate 0 f civilization which divorced his
get the best of an antagonist, the. driver j 8plrit f rom the elemental heart of things,
becomes familiar with fast flight, and ac j paudeen began his descent cautiously
quires coolness and self- ontrol necessary j Dut swiftly. He pattered over moss and
when he passes 'front human .power ma
chines to the fleeter steam, gasoline or
electric driven machines.
But above all is needed a well devel
oped attack of speed mania.
HOW THE DEER SIGNAL.
(Ernest Thompson Seton in Scribner's.)
A gregarious animal has usuallj' many
means of communicating with its -fellows.
The well-marked livery of the species
serves it as his uniftt-tn floes a s'ddior-
it lets friend and fee alike know who
he is.
Next in importance is the white flag
with which most deer do their wig-wag
signaling. This is the (ail and its sur
rounding disc. The sudden elevation of
this white tail when danger is sensed con
veys at once a silent alarm to the next
of Its kind.
Another signal that I have not Seen
noted by any one else is thus describe!
by E. A. Preble during his trip to the
Barrens in 1900. Though the observa
tion applies- to the Barren ground species.
I believe It will he found equally true of
the iwoodland.
“Soon after leaving our camp on tl
morning of August 13
Barren ground caribou,
on a point of land was approaching as
closrly as the depth of the water would
permit—about 200 j-ards. He showed lit
tle fear, trotting along the shore abreast
of our boat for about a quarter of a
mile. He would frequently stop and
wade some distance toward the boat.
I heath until ike tvoods were about Him;
i paths leading north, south and west,
i winding and twisting into green gloom
j lured his fancy onward.
A sense of enchantment silenced the
i whistle on Paudeen's lips. He ran
t stealthily into the green dusk. He touch
ed the trunks as he passed with loving,
dirty fingers.
At last he was entangled among the
many pa-tlis of the wood and he flung
himself panting upon the moss. He lay
on his back, his face turned up toward
the branches overhead. There was a
strange sense upon hint that he was a
player in some fantastic masque. He
closed his cye3.
When he opened them the sense of
fantasy held him more strongly than
before. He was in a little glade and all
about him was a strange and pnan-tas-
mal company. Paudeen stared, as ouly
children stare. It seemed to him that a I
measured and curious dance was being I
performed before him. The figures were ]
Interwoven slowly and in order, and as]
the dancers advanced and retreated Pau-i
deen -became dimly aware of the idea tty j
of each.
Their gigantic stature, their curious j
motley garments of the color of leaves in |
we saw some j light and shadow made it piain to him j
A young buck ! that these were the trees in human sem- I
blance. There was one slighter and
more graceful than the rest whom he
recognized as the birch, ^ud another, who
held a squirrel in his arms. Paudeen
knew as the beech. He recognized them
all, hazel, willow and pine, sjeamore,
hawthorn and elder.
Then she laughed sirangel
deen stared.
“He’s terrible like his ould gran’fath-!
er, God save him,” said Mrs. Fox.
“He is,” said the old woman, “terrible ]
likq poor Michael Fox.”
Paudeen's flace lit up with sudden ]
memory.
“Wasn’t he—?” he began.
“What avic?’ asked the old woman.
Intention changed v.sibly in Paudeen's
eyes.
'Wasn't lie the q'iare ould one?” he
asked cautiously, as one who buries a
secret darkly in his heart.
“Ah!” her brother said. “I suppose
that would he the situation. It seems
sim'ple, but scarcely promising of result.”
“Oh. it would have come right—in
time.” Helen said, “only—there was al
lace i ways—Gweneth.”
confronted | “Gweneth! what on earth had she-?”
[ “Yor see,” said Helen. “Giweneth is
so obliging. She j s alwajs read-v t •
make up for my many delinquencies.
When 1 scratched metaphorically, of
-course—she was 11« re to bind up the
wound. I confess her conduct exasper
ated me; T wasn’t even as nice as f
might have been had she never left Aus
tralia. I. at times, regretted that she
was our father's third cousin once re
moved, and had no other English reln-
of j lives to visit this autumn. At last, when
— when he did speak—T laughed at him,
and' suggested Gweneth as a substitut ;
ami”— she concluded, with a wretched at
tempt at bravado, “You see—he has
acted on my suggestion.’’
Torn was mentally denouncing himself
as a blundering fool and Gweneth as a
meddlfsome hjpocrite. “O' course,
said, “you are not yet cert
accept him.”
H-rlen sprang to her feet and stood, an j’
Alere-
leaped at the
grumbled, as they at last set forth.
Helen was feeling disappointed at find
ing herself still alive. The misadventure
had ended tamely in mud and discom
fort.
Some one from the lantirng stage hailed
them as they approached. It was
dith, and Helen s heart
sound.
“Ate you all right?” he cried", and there
was a queer ring in his voice. “Thank
God you ate back! I was horribly afraid
that something had happened.”
“Thank you,” Helen said, trying hard
to appear dignified and not to shiver.
“I—am quite all right. Where Is—Gwe-
neih?”
“Your coiisin,’’ said Meredith, making
no attempt to releas e the hand that
Helen was striving to free from his
grasp, “went to her room some time
| ago.”
| ''But I—thought—” Helen began.
] Aleredith laugned, it must be confessed
J a little awkwardly. “It didn’t come off,”
! lie said. “1 gave her a lesson m botany
| instead.”
“Then—” Helen's lips tried to frame
] the question, but only a littl e inarticulate
| cry broke from her, as in Che darkness
site will j she felt Meredith draw her close to his
iieart.
“Dearest,” he whispered,
FISHING RIGHTS IN NORWAY.
(From.Tile Philadelphia Bulletin.)
“It is fashionable,” said a rich man,
“to spend the summer in Norway. The
Norwegian climate is superb, the scenery i !er voice broke, “she wil
is grand and the living is cheap—a dollar
a day at the hotels, and carriages at
half a dollar a day. One fine thing about*
Norway is that in the summer the night
only lasts a couple of hours, and if you
go as far as the North cape there is no
night at all. but the sun circles round and
round the horizon, and dever sinks below.
The Norwegian rivers abound in fish,
and any one is free to angle for trout in
them. The salmon rivers, though, are
strictly peseved. Some of the salmon
rivers are very fine, and rent for as
much as $2,000 a year. 1 know a man
who has a river onlj- 2 miles long that he
pays $1,300 for. He often gets fish of
60 or 70 pounds. The day 1 called on him
last year his wife came in with a 40-
pounder, a 22-pcmider and a 51-pounder
that she had caught berselt' within three
hours.” |
indignant beaut.v with flashing eyes, be-
] fore him. “Accept him!” she cried-, with
] scorn; “can there be a shadow of doubt
] of such a thing?—she will be only tor
j pleased, too proud, as any girl might.
] Accept him. indeed!—she would never
' have the impertinence to refuse. He, t' a
I cleverest, manliest man in the world, the
most brilliant K. C. in England. Accept
hint! Of c urse she will. Only—only,”
cer love him
as I do. I, who worshipped the very
ground lie walked upon.” She sat down,
tier eyes full of despair. "No one will
ever love him as 1 do,” she said.
Tom was feeling ill with sympathy,
but his face was still as hard as a flint.
“I must say.” he said doggedly, “that
you had a queer iway of showing your
affection. I fear now there fS> nothing
to be -done.”
Helen pushed back the golden hair from
her face. "Tlt^ house suffocates me
she said. “Let us go on the river. I
may fc< 1 better there.”
Her brother threw on his coat. Down
stairs they cgught sight of the much-
discussed comple standing together on
| of me, btit did I quite deserve to he
] given the worst hour in my life? Is teas-
! ing to be your monopoly? ’
] Then his voice rang out sharply
j through the night to Tom in thp boat, ' i.
! sa>\ old chap, have you a light? 1 am
l afraid Helen has fainted.”
i But out of tne darkness came Helen's
j voice, feeble, but tinged with bliss: “its
| all right, Tom," she said, “he didn't do
it—it was just a mistake."
| Other sounds of biiss came to Tom as,
j feeling no little relieved, hut distinctly
I out of it. he strode up the garden be-
j tween th P sunflowers, brushing the cob-
! ebs from his face.
| “What a silly business!” he told him-
] self, realizing for the first time that lie
I was desperately hungry and wet to the
! skin; “and, hang it all! I have quite
• spoiled that oak panel.
“ INSTANT RELIEF
FROM CATARRH.
at short intervals spreading and con- ; It was as lie sat watching them that
trading the white patch on his throat I Davy 'McGill. whistling guyly, came
literally into an oval disc, so abruptly I down the path. Paudeen waited in blu.ie
as to give the effect of flashes of light, i expectation lor Davy s cry of surprise.
He finally grew tired of following us | * >ut llever came. He passed among
and drifted behind.” j the dancers as one who did not see
What was the caribou doing? Appar- them. Paudeen called to him; Davy
ently signaling to what might be others ! looked at him without any sign of rec-1
of his own kind out on the water.
The caribou’s grunt, or bark, as Pro
fessor D. G. Elliott cals it, 1 have never
heard in a state of nature, but it is said
to be much like that of a reindeer, and
my notes on tills are very full.
“On July 4, 1900, got into a herd of
about 1,000 half-wild reindeer. Their
ognition, and flung a fir cone at him. |
Soon lie had disappeared into the j
shadows. j
Then some instinct siJrred in Paudeen, |
and rising, he went toward the dancer I
he took for the beech tree, and slipping |
a hand into his, followed him through •
the dance. At the close of it, the gi- j
only vocal sound is a grunt; this is ut- j gantic, curious company crowded about |
Barney Oldfield at Wlieel in a Race Againat Tima.
tered singly Or else doubled—that is, tm-j
are given In rapid succession. It is some
times the call of a cow to her calf
and sometimes is uttered by one that Is
left -behind, evidently a note of alarm
or inquiry to find out if his friends are
close at hand.”
Paudeen laughing and whispering. Then
one of them put a crown of leaves and
berries on his rough red hair.
” 'Tls you that arc king of the woods,
Paudeen,” said the sycamore.
“Lift him up!” said the ash, and the
beech swung him up on to his shoulder.
How Eddie Bald Looks When Speed Mania Attacks Him
Send for a Trial Sample of This
Great Remedy, and Convince
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When we say that Eclipse Catarrh
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: agreeable, offensive disease from which
I so many suffer, we are ready to prove
| tliis assertion to your entire satisfaction.
I No matter how long you have been
j afflicted, no matter how badly stopped
j up your head may be, the sample which
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Eclipse Catarrh Cure is a vegetable
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even the worst cases.
Robert L. Wiggins, Augusta, Ga.,
Writes:
Some time aso I wrote you for a
sample package of your Catarrh Cure,
which you sent me, and I will always
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My throat was so sore that I could not
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Enclosed please find money order for
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whole package, and oblige.
Send for Week's Treatment.
We are anxious for every sufferer to
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I We have hundreds of letters from grate-
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will send you also our booklet contain
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| tion about the disease. Do not delay',
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lanta, Ga. •••