Newspaper Page Text
A RATTLED CONVERT.
Sic talked to me long ago on the Ego of The tober light grew -in her woaderfnl
Thought-- eye*;
A pretty philosopher foe, 1 watched the rose itl.w .n her cheek;
Wh. needea to .peak but one aeaieact to That'* all T remember about the dis
make _ courae,
A fervent disciple of me; Though more such I’d willingly neck;
The fat homier* depth, of acumen he She talked to me long on the Kg* of
reached, Thought
And height* by no wing ever nought, (I make thin confession to you).
While glad and enraptured I liatened, an 1 understand naught of it all—but I’ll
ahe swear
Discoursed on the Kgo of Thought. That every word of it was true!
•San Francisco Bulletin.
$
mm,
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M9X*. REN Aunt Elisa began to
--- cry. Helen never eould
O I O stand that, no ahe tried her
S K beat to check her mint's
flowing tour*.
What was It nil about? A trifle?
People generally do disagree over
trifles. This cause of difference, how
ever, between Helen mid her aunt was
s2<*,(H)t>, which had been left to Helen
by n relative. Helen declared the
money did not belong to bar.
Helen ltccve wan a young widow.
She looked very pretty h (the atood
before her aunt In her half town of
mourning, her wavy black hair combed
back from a broad, low forehead, and
colled with an unruly knot at the nape
of her neck. Aunt Kllssn was not in
clined to tlnd fault with the fate that
caused her to he the companion of such
a charming young woman.
“Not belong to yon!’’ cried Aunt
Eliza. “What on earth do you meanV"
“I mean," said Helen, "that till* sum
will Just pay the Inst of poor Jack's
debts, and 1 am going to pay them.”
“There is only one way to ‘settle, ”*
said her aunt, "and that is for you ta
take this money and he thankful to
the good Lord that it has been thrown
your way, and not act so ungrateful to
Providence for your good luck.”
“I think," said Helen, "I seo what
Providence meant me to do with It.
When dear Jack died 1 know the thing
that worried him most during his last
days was the money he owed his old
friend, Mr. Betliune. Mr. Betliune was
ruined, nunly. The greatest happiness
that this money brings to me Is the
thought that 1 can do him and ills
family some good. The poor man is
blind. They live down near the river
somewhere, niul are very poor.”
Aunt Kllr.ii looked obstinate, hut
their lalk ended In an agreement to
see old Mr. Cnrrulhers, the lawyer.
He wrr consulted and would not deny
that there was justice In Helen’s de
termination, ullhoitgh he did not con
sider her called upon to carry It out.
But she did. Fifteen thousand dol
lars was paid to Mr. Bcthunc. A letter
that she received at this time had
tho effect of closing Aunt Elisa’s
mouth, no matter what her Inner re
flections might lie. It was front a
daughter of Mr. Bet lump, and gave
Helen such thanks ns made her heart
feel warm and her cheeks to glow with
delight.
Now there remained $3OOO more. The
other creditor, Sir. Clarence Bartlett,
was a Hell man. Battles began again
between Helen and Aunt Elisa.
“1 have never forgotten what 1 heard
he said about Jack, and he shall have
his due if it ,ie only for Ihe opportun
ity of expressing my feelings. 1 want
Jack's name cleared from every impu
tation of dishonesty."
“There never was any on it." said
Aunt Elisa. "Everybody knew that If
he had lived he would have success
fully earled out his business."
“Mr. Bartlett said differently.”
*'l declare. Helen, you make me ill.
I managed to get along with the drst
affair: that turned out • mercy, to he
sure, for that poor blind man. but this!
Why, T never heard of anyjhlng so un
called for.”
But Helen was determined, and la
spite of Aunt Eliza the money was
ordered to he paid. Then Helen wrote
a letter In which she expressed her
pleasure 111 being able to settle tho
tiebt, and gave Mr. Clarence Bartlett
a raj) for having expressed an opinion
derogatory to her young husband, sign
ing lt"very truly yours." in the most
dignified manner.
To Helen's boundless Indignation
there came a letter from Mr. Bartlett,
ill which he informed her that she was
mistaken as to his ever having blamed
tier husband, and coolly Informed her
that although he approved fhe wish
to settle her husband's debts, she could
not do so where he was concerned:
that he had always considered her hus
band a personal friend; that he would
not have troubled her with this letter,
but for the reason that lie felt it due
to himself to refute tin* misrepresenta
tions which had evidently been se
deeply impressed upon her mind.
“The most impertinent letter I ever
read in my life." she declared to Aunt
Klixa. But her aunt would not see it
that way.
•'I will go ami sop Mr. Carrmliers tills
very ilsy,” cried Helen.
Aunt Klimt could uot trust herself
to answer. Silence was her only safe
guard.
Down to Mr. Oarruthers' oihoe ruslieil
Helen. but sbo bail ta be coatent with
bis saying:
"Very well. Mrs. Hoove. I ulll ito my
best. 1 *
The days wont oa. anti Mr. Carrntn- ;
ors said that Mr. Bartlett was out of
town, so nothing could bo done with j
the money whioli awaited him.
Summer came, and Aunt Kiirn de
oldod that after tbolr worry they
needed a change. Aunt KHn was
neither a tyrant nor a miser. She
How Jack’s
Debts Were Paid
By A, B. SCUDDER.
eared little whether Helen had a penny
or not; she had plenty for both. But
she hud chosen to be delighted when
Helen’s fortune came to her, for she
had been left with little and had a
great love for beautiful things, and
rfhis money would make her feel Inde
pendent in the gratification of her de
sires.
“I am sure I am thankful that we
have anything left,” said Annt Eliza,
and she guve a High of relief, as if
there had been a time when she
thought that Helen was in a fair way
to give awny not only her own money,
but her aunt’s, also.
They decided to visit the Yoseraite,
and Aunt Eliza was in her element.
Hlie would arrange and rearrange
finery for herself and Helen; refuse to
buy a ribbon because they must econ
omize, and next day purchase some
article not at. all needed, and pay a
most extravagant price with smiling
satisfaction.
Every one knows the almost Impos
sible roads by stage to “('lark's” In go
ing dawn the Yosemite Valley, Helen
and her aunt had gone as far as pos
sible by rail, and were now In the last
stages of their Journey behind six
horses In the lumbering six-seated
coach usually used to finish this trip
and convey patrons to their final desti
nation. There were two ladies besides
Helen and her aunt, and on the rear
seat the brother of the ladles and an
other gentleman.
Helen was enjoying the ride and
paying no attention to the fears and
complaints of tin* others over the
roughness of the road. There were
magnificent views, and us they went
higher the ladies grasped the sides of
ttie vehicle and held on to It In fear
aid trembling, as they looked down the
dangerous mountainside.
Helen had well balanced nerves, and
thought of on danger; but suddenly she
was conscious of a crash, a fall, one
horrible shriek from the other ladies,
then It seemed to her that she was
rolling on, on Into eternity. She stopped
at last and lay sttl. Was this death?
But after a moment the Inconveni
ence of supporting a weight that lay
across her convinced her that she was
much alive. She managed to turn
partly over and crawl out from under
the debris. She was not much hurt.
"Aunt Eliza! Aunt Eliza!” called
ITelen. *
All was silence. She looked about
her, but eould sec only wreckage. A
little way up the hill u man lay still
and motionless, his white face turned
upward In the sunlight. Sudden fear
made her turn away. Just then a man
canto from behind a clump of bushes,
pale, anil with bis right arm hanging
helplessly.
"Thank God, somebody is alive!"
cried Helen.
"It Is a miracle.” he faintly an
s\v ered.
"Where .".re the others?"
“Oh, 1 can’t tell. 1 fear they are all
under the wagon."
“What shall we do?"
He looked down helplessly at his arm
ami Helen naked pityingly:
“Broken?"
"Never mind." lie said, ‘wo can't
lament over that until we know there
is nothing worse,”
Just then several men appeared, xviir
had been driving in sight of the acci
dent. They first released the ladies un
der tlie coach and then placed them
gently In a wagon. Finally every one
was disposed of bu; Helen and tlie
gentleman with the broken arm.
"I have a one-sea toil buck not far
rrem here," one of the mountaineers
suggested.
The gentleman looked dolefully at
his arm.
"Oh, 1 can drive, if (In fs ail," said
Helen. "Let's go. It's aly a short
distance. You arc suffering terribly,”
as she saw him growing pale.
"1 believe I am." he answered.
They drove otY, and after the first
few minutes began to talk.
"It seemed to me that we rolled over
anti over for au endless time." said
Helen.
"You did turn a complete somersault.
1 was thrown oil' at the first lurch. The
elderly lady 1 do not think is much
hurt. Your aunt, you called her?"
"Yes, my aunt."
“Are you frightened:” he asked sud
denly, looking at her curiously.
"1 don’t know," said Helen, "I feel
rather wild."
"Few young ladies have as service
able nerves as yours.” 1
Helen did not answer a* once, but
cried, as a turn of the road brought a
house in view;
"Oh, there is the hotel! 1 am so
glad.”
An hour later she was watching by
her aunt's bedside. She felt relieved
at the physician's assurance that Aunt
I*l iza was not seriously hurt. For tw#
or three days she was kept a prisoner,
but Aunt Kiiza was not one to pet ail
ments, and was soon about
The next day but oue after the acci
dent Helen’s driving companion sent to
ask after her health, and she was ap
palled by the name on the card: “Mr.
Clarence Bartlett.”
Aunt Eliza laughed heartily at the
absurd situation.
“I think it is very impertinent of
him,” said Helen.
“To get his arm broken?”
“To inquire after us.”
"Perhaps lie does not know who we
are,” said Aunt Eliza.
“I think I would perhaps like to
leave here to-morrow,” was Helen’s
only reply
Aunt Helen did not argue, as she
knew that it would oniy increase Hel
en’s prejudice, but she proposed to stay
where she was.
It was not long before Helen and he
met. She was on an upper piazza early
one evening, and came face to face
with him. His arm was in a sling, and
he looked pale and worn, but xvaa evi
dently pleased to see her again.
He held out bis hand.
“I am glad to have made your ac
quaintance, Mrs. Itceve. You will In
troduce me to your aunt, will yon
not? Your husband and I were good
friends. I was also a friend of your
father, although I was young at the
time.”
She eoald not refuse, and he talked
so pleasantly that Helen could not help
forgetting her prejudice, and did not
see her way clear to bringing up the
money question. Aunt Eliza was de
lighted, but shrewdly held her peace.
Such a first meeting as they had lmd
naturally caused their acquaintance to
grow rapidly. Mr. Bartlett was most
agreeable, and all his efforts tended to
make Helen'* days happy. They stayed
six xveeks at the hotel, and it was the
evening before they were to go. Helen
and he were oh the piazza enjoying the
sunset, when Aunt Eliza came up with
a letter.
"For you, Helen.”
She stood and chatted a few mo
ments anil then said she must be off
and finish packing. Helen still held the
letter In her hand, turning it over and
•ver in embarrassment, for she recog
nized the writing of Mr. ('nrruthers.
She was nervously fumbling at tho
clasp of the bag at. her side, to put
the letter out of sight, when Mr. Bart
lett said:
“I'ray, rend your letter."
“It is of no consequence,’’ Helen an
swered.
"I am not so sure of that.” he re
turned in as odd voice. “At all events,
read It, or you will be thinking about
It all the evening.”
Helen opened the letter and read the
crabbed handwriting In great lmte, 1
Mr. Carruthers wrote to say that Mr.
Bartlett refused to take the money and
"wished to hear no more about tt."
She flushed and glanced at her com
panlen.
He was looking at her with a quiet
smile.
“1 think I know whom your letter is
from," and he laughed.
“Please don’t," she said, coloring
more brightly, but determined to speak
now. "Mr. Bartlett. I want to talk
with you about this. I want you to do
me a favor, but first promise—-’’ she
hesitated.
"You don't want me to promise untl*
I have heard what tt Is', do yon?”
"Only that tiresome money. I want
yen to take if."
"Oh, he answered slowly and gravely.
“Yes, say you will. It will make me
so much happier."
He waited a moment, and then said:
“I will take it on one condition."
Something In his voice made her eyes
drop suddenly.
"That 1 may take you wit# tt,” lie
whispered, ns tie leaned over her.
"May I, Helen?” He held her hand
now and It was not withdrawn,—
Waverley Magazine.
A Cerent Story#
Tlie refreshing part of a story which
the New York Tinas recounts is not
the stupidity of man in his domestic
aspect. The particular man concerned
is an actor whose wife-an actress—is
an earnest advocate of the theory that
food should ttt the consumer rather
than tin* reverse, Consequently there
arc periods when milk Mows Incessant
ly through the household menu. Again
it Is hot water, and at other times
nnts. fruit i and grains alone are relied
upon to nourish genius to its finest
dower.
Once, is the grain age, the wife was
called away to a rehearsal that was
likely to last w >ll into the afternoon.
She told her husband licit he would
have to get his own luncheon, and he
cheerfully consented to do ii.
"I had a tine meal on your new cer
eal.” he said, wht n she returned.
"What do yon mean?" she inquired.
"I haven't any new cereal in tin*
house.”
“Why. tlitt nu !y sort of stuff you
left on the dining room table.”
The wife sat down - ■ hicnly. "Yon ve
eaten up tny wimlov garden?* she
wailed. “Ail lu.v petunia nasturtium
aud pansy seeds!"
Woman in \lu**ritlne t.arb.
Since Dr. Mary Walker Introduced
the idea of women wtaring Hie mascu
line habit, she has won recognition in
a startling way. The male garb is not
donned by women for i,s eon,fort*, but
ti conceal identity, bury a past, ami
divert to one side the n:ui:-s red minor- j
ation and attentions of men.
In the present year alone there have i
been five recorded eases where wonset I
have risen to man's commercial ant,
professional stature merely by the ai!
of Ills garments. A: ho ne the disguise
would be doffed, and the prudent, mod
cst housewife and decorous luothe*
would blossom fori!. The scorn o"
men ami also their tlaitery is avo'dc*
by a mere change of garments. Wo
men suffragists have long bean looking
for emancipation from the tyranny of
man. Where else can freedom be
found so easily as in the robes of mas
culine diguity ? Boston Advertiser.
MCOLTDRAL
The I*i B With a Here Month.
Avery troublesome thing the busy
farmer has to contend with is sore
mouth in little pigs. The only way to
prevent this is to take out their little
tusks when they are about one day
old. It Is fighting for the teat that
causes this aud is very much worse in
wet weather than in dry on account
of the mud that forms a sore, followed
by inflammation and swelling. Avery
good remedy Is to wash off with car
bolic aebl and warm water; use oniy
a very little carbolic acid.
Plafß For Profit.
A writer in tlie Tribune Farmer
thinks it a waste of feed to keep pigs
beyond about seven months of age.
when they should weigh 200 or more
pounds. It sounds too much like old
times to feed pigs to fourteen or fif
teen months old, he says. After 200
pounds weight, with tlie modern pig,
the expense to make a pound of pork
gradually gets too great to give a de
sirable profit to the feeder. The great
est profit ends with 175 to 200 pounds
weight as they should be groxvn on
the farm.
Catching Bhe*p.
A sheep should never be caught by
Its wool. This method not only causes
tlie animal unnecessary pain, but in
the ease of fat sheep, that are to be
killed, It does much harm to the Joint
of mutton that, lies underneath where
the wooi was pulled. It causes a dark
bruise just In the same manner as our
bodies become discolored from being
braised. A California sheepman ad
vises that tlie proper way to catch a
sheep is to take It either by the hind
leg Just above tlie gambrel Joint, or
by putting the hand underneath its
law or neck. In using a crook it is
Important that the sheep are not
caught below the gambrel joint as
Injury to the leg Is liable to result from
this.
Drinking Fountain.
I send you a diagram of a drinking
fountain which any tinner can make.
Take a gallon syrup can (square):
make a small hole aiamt one lueh and
a half from the bottom, and have a
.
piece of tin soldered on the shape of a
half circle, bowed outwards, like the
spout of a strainer pail, and the water
will come down a* fast a* the water Is
uaed out, keeping the water always
clean.—M. Quackenbush, in the Eplto
uilst.
Profit* oT h Pasture#
Does It pay, to use a pasture; that Is.
will a larger profit he derived from
cows that art. given exclusively the
use of a pasture, or will the same lnud
pay more If tstsed for producing hay?
It has hern found, after repeated tests,
that uliout four times ns much food
could he obtained from a meadow by
allowing it to produce hay than by pas
turing it, which means that four cows
can be kept on the lund where only one
can lie kept by pasturing it. One of
the drawbacks against using the land
for liny, however, Is that considerable
labor is required in mowing, curing
nud storing the hay, while the cows on
the pasture perform the labor. Also
the cows given green food ns pastur
age produce more milk, in the summer
season than if kept on hay, and must
be given green food In some manner
to be profitable.
DfcompoiHlmi of Mnnoit.
The decomposition of manure de
pends largely upon the amount of unis,
ture In the heap. When manure is dry
the chemical changes occur slowly, but
more rapidly when the heap is wet.
When manure Is mixed with a liberal
supply, of absorbent materials, nud
stored under shelter, it will undergo
but little change, but when warned for
use it may be decomposed in a short
time if saturated with urine. If the
bedding used in the stalls is cut Hue it
will serve the purpose desired fully as
x\ oil as when uncut, but the main ad
vantage is that the tine material may
be more intimately mixed with man
ure, and will then better absorb the
liquids, to say nothing of the easier
handling, loading and distribution of
tin- manure on the fields when the sea
son arrives for spreading it.—Philadel
phia Record.
Con turn Inst ton of Well Water.
Manure heaps are responsible for
many diseases that appear on farms.
Even the well water may become con
taminated. though the heap uiay be
some distance from It. Typhoid fever
and diphtheria have appeared in fami
lies living a mile or more from neigh
bors. and where it was apparently im
possible far the families to be at
tacked. A French scientist, who in
vestigated diseases mi farms In France,
found that there was sonic relation
between manure heaps an t epidemics
of diphtheria. Statistics in Scotland
and Prussia show that the rate of mor
tality from diphtheria is higher in ru
ral districts. It is suggested that ail
manure should be Kent in closed loca
tions, with cement sides and bottoms.
If manure is treated xvith a solution of
sulphuric acid before being added to
the heap, the bulk of the manure will
be reduced and tlie plant food rendered
more soluble, while disease will be
prevented to a certain extent. Oue
point to observe is to have the well of
water as far from the sources of con*
tamtnation as possible, the grading be
ing such that no surface water can flow,
in the direction of the well.
Treatment of Orchard*.
Objections have frequently been
raised to the use of Bordeaux mixture
and other insecticides on orchards be
cause "farmers have not the time to
give to tlie work.” The only reply one
can make to this objection is that the
farmer who can not find the time prop
erly to care for his trees would better
cut them down and use the land they
occupy for crops which he can find
time to cultivate, in objections simi
lar to that given lies the cause for
many of the failures in farming and
fruit growing.
The best orchardists in the country,
those who feed and cultivate the soil
In which their trees are standiug. rec
ognize the fact that even this good care
will not ward off the attacks of insects,
and they use the spray as a part of the
requisite culture. The man who can
not find the time to do all of his farm
work properly would find it a good plan
to cut off portions of it until the work
is well within tils capabilities, for he
will make more profit than by his' pres
ent method of working. It is the man
who "can not find time" whose fowls
roost in the trees and feed around the
kitchen door, and who complains that
poultry keeping (?) does not pay.
Value of Shredded Fodder.
Ask men who have made a practice
of feeding shredded fodder why they
do It, and they will tell you that they
feed it because their ca{l!e, horses and
sheep like it so well, aud thrive so well
upon it, and because they cannot af
ford to let it go to waste and feed
hay which could be sold for two or
three times as much as the prepared
fodder costs. When the farmer com
putes the cost of cutting and shredding
his fodder tt looks high, but he must
remember that, although it does cost
biro from $2.50 to $3.50 per ton. it
takes the place of hay which has a
market value of from two to three
times that amount. Men who havo
made n practice of feeding shredded
fodder state that it costs from $3 to $5
an acre to prepare it. and that an acre
of average corn will yield from one
and one-half to two and one-half tons
of dry fodder. They say further that
a ton of fodder has as much or perhaps
more feed value than a ton of average
hay. Corn used for shredding ts bound
and shocked when the grains are well
dented and glazed over, but before the
stalk has shown much signs of ripen
ing. When thoroughly dry it is rim
through the husker and shredded and
■stowed away in the mow.—lowa Agri
culturist.
Colony !!<>u**.
These houses are six by nine feet In
size, live and one-half feet in front,
four anil one-half feet in the rear, with
u shingled roof. They are designed to
hold fifteen pullets. They are built of
a single thickness of inch pine boards,
xvith two by three Inch material for
sills, posts and rafters. They weigh
about 700 pounds and can be easily
moved about the farm. They will he
set out in the fields during the sum
mer and moved up elose together lata
in the fall. The houses are placed
about fifteen feet apart, and space be
tween roofed atul sided at the back.
These are so constructed as to utilize
for chicken shelters In the summer. A
good carpenter will build oue bouse in
a day, and including the material and
carpenter wages, tL 1 houses cost sll
each. The houses are well painted
and will lasi for years. .They are also
used to put in a brooder in spring.
This house is used by G. L. Ciemence,
of Massachusetts.
Fonllr; Bint#*.
Lime well doors and.damp places In
the poultry runs.
Fowls should lv well supplied with
fresh, clean water.
Young chicken., should be fed many
times through tl.e day.
Fowls confined to narr w limits nro
apt to get too f:.t if well fed. aud they
will not lay.
Charcoal ts ! glily recommended for
fowls. Put it "here they can got it,
and they will do the rest. ,
One breed is enough for the farmer.
If more than one is kept they will mix
and lose their individuality.
Fowls kep. in yards of moderate size
suffer less from disease, ar.il lay moru
eggs than those on free range.
Since the price of beef ami pork nas
gone so high more poultry is being eat
en: but tlie quality must be good.
In railing fowls for market those
that are the best layers, the best set
ters, and mature early, are the best.
Milk is one of the best possible feeds
for laying hens, and it would pay to
divide It between the pigs aud the
bens
YYbiie usually a ben becomes less
va!uahie after she is two years old.
many will continue laying until four
years old.
Sometimes pallets will do more than
hens in the way of laying. These
should be watched and net sold or
killed. They will probably become
valuable layers.
THE TROUBLES WE NEVER HATS
The you In that lies so tar away.
That seemed to end so long ago.
Might still be sweetly claimed to-day
By many a man whose step is slow '
If. somehow, he might borrow back
! The days his foolish fears made sad,
The days through which hesighed,‘‘Alack!”
O’er troubles that he never had.
As careless prodigals we waste
The rears through which youth blithely
skips,
And many a bitter dose we taste
That never comes to touch o-ir lips.
Before our time we droop and die
And leave the scenes that were ao sad.
Despoiled and fooled and broken by
The troubles wc hav,- never had.
—tf. E. Kiser, in Chicago Record-Herald.
es
"Y'on must not monopolize all of the
conversation. Gertie.” "When shall
I be old enough to. mamma?” Yon
kers Statesman.
from tlie monkey?” “Some descend
ed," answered Mi s Cay nne, "and
rorne merely dress differently.”—
Washington Star.
He—" Did you ever notice what small
feet Miss Fetcliam has?” She—"Ns.
but I’ve observed xvi at small shoe she
wears.”—Cincinnati Tribune.
O'Ryan—"Strange that after reach
ing the top of the ladder he should fall
to suddenly. ''O’Bryan—"There was s
woman at.the bottom of it.”—The Gael.
The boy stood in the crowded car;
He couldn't turn he ne.l.:
He* groaned before he traveled far.
"For me the burning dirk!”
-Cleveland Plain Dealer
She hail called to see him o.i a mat
le of business. "He in engaged." said
the office boy. "What of it?” she re
torted. "I don't warn to marry him."
-Chicago Post.
"He's n g.iy dog: likes all women,
but isn't engaged to any particular
on®.” "1 should think not. What par
ticular woman would lave him?’'—
Brooklyn Life.
"Don't place too much confidence is
a man's opinion of himself." says the
Manaynnk Philosopher "The ass esa
make as much noie as the lion."—
Philadelphia Record.
"You will have to admit that women
are better at driving bargains thru
men are." "Not invariably. Suppose
the bargain is n pound of nails'?"—
Kansas City Journal.
The man who studied questions deep
Was m oblivion left to siotp.
The man whose name the public notes
is lie who hustled round for voter.
—Washington Star.
Small Tommy "The teacher wanted
to box my ear. this morning.” Grand
ma "llow do you know she did?"
Small Tommy—“’Cause he couldn't
have lj-ixcd 'em if he hadn't wanted
c.” -Chicago Journal.
Harvey—"l touched pop for twenty
to-day to liny a camera. Think I’ll
touch him again to-morrow to get
some plates." Harold "Better t>®
careful, old chap. Retouching is not
always so easy in photography.”—Chi
cago News.
"I'd like to know." tleg,in the little
Eden street boy. "Well, what would
you like to know?” asked his mother.
“I’d like to know why sweetbreads
haven't any bread In 'em and sweet
meats haven't any meat in 'em." Bal
timore American.
"But. you know," persisted tho wife
v tio was trying to work tier husband
■‘or anew outfit, "that all women are
slaves to fashion.” “True, my dear,"
replied the heartless husband, “but I’m
not the man to give up money for the
purpose of encouraging slavery in any
form."—Chicago News.
Jenkins—“ What's the matter, old.
man? Y'ou look sore.” Phceder—“So
I am. 1 wish the Government wou.’rt
exterminate these sparrows that over
run tlie country.” Jenkins—"Hov <l#
they botlier you?” Pheeiler—"They
give me indigestion every time I eat
reed birds at a restaurant."- Philadel
l.hin Ledger.
Mob* of Women.
Recent events In several places liar®
revealed a curiosity on the part of
women and a resolution to gratify it
that, as oue may say, break the record.
At the wedding of Mis* Goelet to a
scion of the British nobility a short
time ago. New York was treated to a
spectacle surpassing anything of its
kind in history. Women to the number
of many thousands. well-dressed
women, such as uiuii-r ordinary eiretun
stances, would pass as weil-bred
women, crowdi 1 Broadway in a sirng
gling mass eager to g<d a sight of the
bride. They impeded travel, they
fought for places of vantage, they did
the most absurd things, dared danger*
Innumerable, bathed the power of the
police to keep them within bounds, and
many of them, received severe injury.
It was an amazing dm lustration of
the twentieth century woman's daring
self-assertion. Almost worse was the
affair in Newark, N. J.. at the conse
cration of Bishop Lines. Here many
were hurt and many more had their
raiment badly rent in squeezing
through the iron gates about the
church. The police could not control
their wild rush to get inside. Tne sol
emn religions nature of the occasion
did not in the least affect their resolve
to see the ceremony at any rost of
dignity aud peace. It was a free show,
and they were bound to take it in
Boston Herald.
Tlie I*l a<* Jmy’* Philosophy.
“The line between business and rob
bery has never yet been cl“srij de
fined." said the bine jay as be swal
lowed the egg of the robin, wiie was
off hunting for worms.—Ernejt Thomp
son Seton. in Century Magazine.