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WALTER BLOOMFIELD
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4+ ' Cepjrrltbt larti ir Sonar Bovfcttt'a •<>¥*
f Z? CHAPTER XXII.
j f Continued. ~
}•' “Bravo, Ernest; well resolved,
didn’t think yon had no much grit Ita
you. I would not have advised yod
in this case, but hnd I done so I wold
have pointed out no fairer W better
line of action. So much for that. Tut
your letter in your pocket and get on
with your breakfaat What can I help
yon to?”-
"I bhtu not much appetite this morn
lug, tliauk you, uncle. Another cup
N o£t?offee and I have done.”
Jr If It It because you ore In love that
you can’t eat I will ekeusc you, but
not If U la because matters In which
yo« take an Interest don’t go so
smoothly as yon could wish. If I had
suffered my appetite to decline every
one or other of the scores of matter*
In which I Interest myself ran off the
line 1 had marked out for It 1 should
have been dead of starvation years
ago. Exert your Imagination, and—
forgetting all about sequins, dishonest
retainers, village beauties, and what
Over also occupies your thought*—
bring yourself to believe that man
was'tarn chiefly for the consumption
®P foodir-wbich Is certainly true of the
greater number of ns. Imagination
will work wonders. I hate seen a pen-
nlless beggar confined In an Insane
asylum who has believed that he was
s king, and been for happier In that be
lief than many a specimen of the real
article Surrounded by Intriguers and
fawning thieves. Now I have a pro
posal to make respecting this steak.
Xbu will observe that It Is a very small
v T»lov«—that It does not weigh much
more than a pound. Well, get outside
of that steak and this piece of bread
and I will give you n letter of Intro
duction to Mrs. Vnn Rensselaer, which
will enable you to spend the day at
Tarry town with Connie for your com
panion; refuse me, and I will give such
a letter to your friend. Mr. Price, who
yesterday asked mo for It.”
/ The task Imposed was a formidable
«ne, but then the prise with which sue-
etss was to be rewarded was so de
lightful, and the calamity assigned to
failure so awful, that I addressed my-
•elf to It with great courage. Rut my
aptatronomlcnl powers were not equal
to the strain to which It was proposed
to subject them, and l»efore my tank
was half completed I pushed my plate
from me and gave up the attempt In
despair. My uncle, who hnd boeu
Watching me, generously forgnvo my
abortcoming, aud remarking that I
van better when spurred, Invited me
Into hls study, where he wrote ns fol
lows on the back of one of hls address
cards:
. l)enr Mrs. Van Rensselaer—Theyouug
gentleman who will hand you this Is
my uephew, Mr. Ernest Truiunu, of
Holdenhurst, near Bury St. Edmund’s,
England, lie arrived In America a day
or so ago, and we are hls only connec
tions here. Kludly receive him to day,
Introduce him to your friends and tell
him all ho don’t know-as far as yoi
can. Very faithfully yours, 8. T.
Sept. 13, 18—.
, •There*” said unde 8am, as he baud
«*1 uif» the card, “that will do the bu*l
newt for you. Mrs. Vnn Rensselaer
Jtwes me some gratitude for helping
\o settle her late husband’s affairs, and
she will be very pleased to entrrtalu
yon. Con and your aunt will lie de
lighted when they learn you are to ne-
company them. I have no doubt you
will find a sail up the Hudson to Tar-
rytown very enjoyable. My yacht will
ta/ready to leave at eleven, and it is
Qbw barely half-past eight. 1 have
much to do to-day, and am going down
town at once, so you must amuse your
self for the next couple of hours In any
way you can. Hadn’t you better scud
your father a telegram Informing h!:n
of your Intention to return in the Um
bria? I am going to telegraph to Eng
land myself, and will despatch your
message with mine.”
v ^ hastily,scribbled In my pocketbook,
# *Truman, Holdenhurst, Bury 8t. Ed
mund's. England - Letter received.
Returning In Umbria. Ernest,” ami
fearing out the lear handed It to my
uncle, who having expressed hls ap
proval If It. wished me n pleasant day
&nd disappeared down the stairs. A
minute afterward 1 heard the street
door close, and looking out of the win
dow saw my undo walking rapidly
toward Fifth aveuue.
I turned from the window
different feelings tlmu were mine \Vh/n
I watched my unde’s departure fr
Holden burst. Then I perceived
ray of hope for the accomplishment of
my desires; now my path seemed eh al
and eaay. The girl whom I loved lud
gone so far as to declare tlmt she pre
ferred me of all men. and would never
marry unless with me. while her pow
erful guardian, who hnd given a bund-
ant evidence of Ills pr^adlce In iny
favor, had juat assured me that be
was not opposed to my suit. Hut the
estrangement of my father and unde,
and above all that dfstayed parennl
command wblcb 1 carried in my pock
et were as black clouds threatening
to obscure the sunshine of my bapol-
neis. Now that unde Bam was gene
Ids defense of Annie Wolscy sceu-.ed
yainfully strained and insufficient, and
I could not but regard the circuw-
ah!*" 111 ^
culty to be encountered In seeking to
effect the reconciliation oi the* broth
ers. My conscience whispered that
my right and proper course was to
Obey my father, but I was too deeply
in love with Constance Marsh to dare
to Imperil my present amicable terms
with her by offending my uncle, and
the twofold result would necessarily
follow that course. When momentous
dedslons have to be mode by the mor
ally weak (and such was my condition
at the period of Which 1 write), then
nlifo comes suffering, for it is the
quality of weakness to shrink from
pain,* even when conscious that It) so
doing It not only postpones but accu
mulates disaster. pondering these
things I slowly returned to my room to
prepare for the excursion to Tnrry-
town—which luckily I had not done be
fore, for my uncle’s practical Illustra
tion of the way I was to deal with old
John Adams would have wrecked the
toilet of a Suffolk farm laborer.
At half-past ten aunt Gcrirude and
Miss Marsh entered the drawing room,
where I awaited them In some trepida
tion, for I knew that ray uncle had not
seen either of these ladles since he had
arranged for me to nccoinpnuy them
to Tnrrytown, and It was quite possi
ble that they might depart without
me, or that my company might be less
agreeable to them than ray uncle hnd
represented. These fears were
once dispelled by aunt Gertrude, who,
coming forward to greet me. assured
mo of the pleasuro with which she
hnd Just learned that I was to be their
companion for the day.
I expressed ray thanks, and at the
sarao time my surprise that she should
know of this, for I was aurp that she
could not have seen her husband since
I saw him leave the house.
Ob, you don't, quite understand,'
said aunt Gertrude, laughing, “my hus
band Is now at hls ofilce, and he lias
Just been talking to me by telephone."
Both ladles were dressed ready to
depart, and looked very charming, par
ticularly Miss Marsh, who stood ucnr
to tho open door, giving sundry patu
and twitches to n refractory rose which
could not bo easily Induced to repose
In tho bosom of a white muslin dress
to tho satisfaction of Its mistress. Am
I observed this beautiful but silent
girl waiting while her sister and I
were talking. I did not think, and
could not then have* believed that It
was she moved uncle Ham to furnish
ine with nil introduction to Mrs. Van
Rensselaer. That knowledge did not
come to me till long after. A wife is
lavish of confesslou from which c
maid would shrink.
The Journey to the dock In my tin
dc's carriage did uot occupy many
mluutes. Arrived there we at once
went on board my undo's yacht
small steamer, exquisitely designed
and superbly fitted, a Hunting palace
In lululaturc. The hour appointed for
our departure lmd not yet arrived, but
steam being up, and the cnptnln, un
derstanding that our party was com
plete, tho gaugwuy was at once raised,
and the Iroquois slowly steamed out
from among the trading steamships by
which she was surrounded and bor
round Into the North River.
September and October are the most
pleasant months In North America
Then .the fierce glare of summer lias
subsided, and the air Is dry, clear ami
exhilarating, and the foliage assumes
a beautiful golden tint. In such a sea-
sou a Journey up the Hmlsou River is
a very delightful experience. The
American Rhine, ns the Hudson Is
sometimes called, is inferior to the
German Rhine iu nothing but histori
cal associations, though even In tills
respect It Is not destitute. Precipitous
banks, rising to a height of from .’>00
to 500 feet, for the most part thickly
wooded, amoug which here and there
nettles a picturesque village or elegant
mansion standing iu its own highly
ultlvated grounds, enchant the eyes
of tho stranger for many miles along
Its course. Speaking for thyself I
must say that I remember few If any
days in my life upon which I have ex
perienced greater pleasure than was
inlue on the particular thirteenth of
September of which I now write.
That the companionship of my Con-
stunco (I had already once or twice so
addressed Miss Marsh and she had not
demurred to the style), had much to
do with my satisfaction must be Itnme
(I lately admitted. Aunt Gertrude,
with admirable tact, had begged Con
stance aud nu» to excuse her continu
ing the perusal of au Interesting book
which she hail brought with her, aud
we (heaveu blots our charity; saw fit
to graciously grant the desired pardon,
upon which she took a seat at the aft,
aud vouchsafed us no further uot ice
until our arrival at Tarrytown.
The few hours remaining to mo In
America wen* rapidly wastiug away,
and I felt that 1 could not tell Con-
stance of my resolve to return at once
to England without at the same time
informing her of the reason for ray
sudden departure. This 1 now pro
ceeded to do. Having already acquaint
ed her with the story of the sequins 1
did not have to again go through that
wearisome recital, but merely related
uncle Sam’s view of the case and tho
advice which he had given me.
-And moat 70a really leave for Eng
land to soon ns the day after tri-moi* 1
tow?” Asked Constance; ibbkirig tip al
me reproachfully. '‘Why, Ernest, dear,
you bare only Just come here!”
T am stJrrf t tritUt.” I replied;
t trlil Afcny in England bkty sd long as
It takes td recover those seqolns, and
will then return to yon by the first
steamer.”
“Why, you may never recover, them I
How much arc the old coins worth, all
of them, wherever they arc?’’ Inquired
Constance.
“Almost a hundred. ned seventeen
thousand UoUlids,’’ t answered; -
“Oh; 1 don’t Understand that,” said
Constahce; “tell trie iri dollars.”
“FiVh hundred and sixty thousand
dollars, exactly.”
“Well, let them go, and trouble no
more about them; they have already
caused mischief enough. 1 haven't ro
mneb money at my banker's,♦but If
you will abandon the pursuit of those
sequins I will get Sain to sell out a
little of my stock to-morrow and give
you a check for that atiount. Will that
satisfy JroU?**
Satisfy me! 1 * t exclalihed iri amaze
ment. “My dear Constance, hdW shall
I answer you? Your generosity tnkes
my breath away. I want those se
nates tot bite reasori olily; arid but for
that rine special rensori I dott't think
I wohld interest myself about them ot
ali, or certainly not much. If only I
could get those coins, their possession
would give me courage to ask you to
become my wife, courage I must al
ways wont while you arc rich and 1
am poor. Love of you It Is chiefly,
dear Connie, which takes me back to
England, and also the honor of my
unde Bnm which, as you know. Is
bound Up With the recovery of tho se-
quids.”
“And If you recover them, you say
you will returu,” remarked Constance
quietly.
‘Yes, dearest Connie, and then my
fate will rest with you.”
“Am I to understand that If you fall
to get that money I atn to forget yon?”
“No, do not do that In any case, but
I think 1 will be sure to get the se
quins.”
“Oh, Ernest, dear," sold this artless
girl, pressing my hand, “come to me
when you will, with money or without
money, 1 am always yours, I can lovo
none but you.”
Wanted* Conscientiousness
By the Editor of Tho ttniUrf
T is natural, wholesome, saving oonsctantRrtsfie**, *PPH*® *°
all the relations and emergencies ot private ifffrf public life,
that Is so sadly wanting In many American commu'fihtas-^o
conscientiousness. Which results in something like that aysteiii
of honor which (iistlrtguisftes tbs student life of the Univer
sity of Virginia, and which, fttgitifaiJs ara apt to maintain,
bos perceptibly and beneficially affeetdd tbt? ton# of business
and other affairs in that commonwealth. itoWfiflgbt on*
scrupulousness marks the knave; a partial lack of sOTOph*
charncteHscs the large number of respectable men who, as members of boards,
as merchants, ns taxpayers, as politicians, ns voters, wink at evil practices in
bthers, timidly avoid all bppositlon to official wrong, and themselves commit
Slight arid not too conspicuous irregularities, or give support for selfish reasons
to venal candidates for office. Siicll “respectables" are tho despair of the
patriotic men who, in our day and In a thousand Communities, arc trying to
stay the tide of that political corruption which, according to so good ( friend of
America as John Morley, “for the moment obscures the great democratic ex
periment.”
It comes to this, that “the period of corruption” which friends of Americans
abroad are called upon so ofter to apologize for—a corruption which, while bail
enough. Is not so deeply rooted as om* enemies believe—can be brought to an end
only by the growth of a sense of honor, of scrupulousness backed by moral
bravery, upon the port of individuals in the republic. It is not fantastic to aver
that a gift of imagination would assist some people to be virtuous. If a citizen
should feci that hi* dwri lack Ot scruple, In any direction, was a contribution
to the corruption and dishonor of his country, and that his personal withstand
ing of temptation to do wrong Was not only an act of private virtue, but had
patriotic Uses as well—If he were convinced, for instance, that his refusal to
Vote ns a trustee for tt contribution to a bribery fund or to a dishonest boss was
a means Of doing away with « national disgrace-lf he had the Imagination to
grasp the large bearings of hls Individual action, it would be easier for him to
take a stand for righteousness instead of weakly acquiescing in some customary
wrong. Aristotle’s Idea of the State was association “In a life of felicity and
nobleness;” but Christianity ought not to have to look to Dac«iiism for ideals of
good citizenship and the making of a righteous pcopk
Give a Child Freedom
T
CHAPTER XXIII.
AT TARRYTOWN.
Pleasant hours pass quickly. When
tho Iroquois entered Tappnu Bay I
was surprised to find that It was two
o’clock. Aunt Gertrude—who had uot
spoken to her fellow travelers once
during the Journey, nor, so far ns I
was aware, In any way observed them
—now laid her book aside and come to
ward ns. Constance and I—the for-
mer very quiet since her declaration of
affection for me, ns If abashed by tbnt
8|K>ntancou* avowal — also rose from
seats and went to meet her. and to
gether we three paced the deck, aunt
Gertrude pointing out to me where
I'lermont lay, nnd the course of tho
beautiful Palisades, nnd explaining to
whom belonged the tasteful mnuslons
with which the river banks were now
thickly dotted. In this delightful slt-
untlou, with one of these charming sis
ters on either arm—the more youthful
nud sl|yut my very own. the other my
near relation, wife of tho man I most
admired—I was Intoxicated with my
happiness, and felt bow unworthy I
was of my placeman Image of Suffolk
clay set between two Jewels.
The Iroquois was uow slowly ap
proaching n landing stage at the foot
of n very strep bank, on tho summit
of which stood the ItensNclner mansion
—an elegant structure of wood, with
three verandas continued quite around
the building. The bank was cut Into
1 series of terraces, each a carefully
ultlvated flower gardcu. connected by
white marble steps flanked with copies
of classical statues. All the doors nnd
windows of the house appeared to be
open, while dispersed about the
grounds was a numerous party of la
dies and gentlemen, some of whom
were endeavoring to make out the Iro
quois by the aid of lorgnettes.
See!” exclaimed aunt Gertrude,
with almost childish glee, “there are
Van Rensselaer nnd Mr. Rosen
berg on the top terrace endoavoriug to
salute us. ’’
Connie banded me tho lorgnette
through which she hnd just been look-
lug, nud I saw distinctly the two por
ous of whom aunt Gertrude had spo
ken. Mrs. Van Rensselaer was a lady
not much short of fifty, tall, stately,
with clear cut, regular features, and
Mr. Rosenberg was by her side wav
lug n white handkerchief.
Our Journey, which had been a slow
le, was now over. A large party was
assembled on the lauding stage to re
ive us, luclr.ding the hostess, Mr.
Rosenberg and several persons whom
remembered having seen at aunt
•rtrude’s At Home. Mrs. Van Reuss-
laer having assured me that any rela
tion of her late'husband’s particular
friend, Mr. Samuel Truman, was very
welcome to her house, we proceeded to
pass upward through the terrace gar
dens, our hostess aud aunt Gertrude
leading the way, with Miss Marsh
and I immediately following.
I had uow obtained that for which l
had so passionately louged aud so of
ten despaired, aud the result was a
buoyancy of spirit nnd a degree of
courage which 1 hud never before ex
perienced. The confidence which Is
born of success was strong within me,
and that awkward shyness of manner
which had all my life marked me ou‘
for ridicule fell away from me r.# 1*
were by magic.
To be continued.
Urp African Bata.
Bata measuring nearly five feet from
tip to Up of tbelr wlrgs have been
found in a cave pear Tanga in Eaat
In That Way Ha Learos to Think and Acquire
Self-control
By Prof. Job* Dewey
HE greatest slavery Is not of the body, but of the mind. The
slave must take orders, lie Is not free to carry out his own
Ideas. Iu fact, Plato, 2500 years ago. defined slavery ns the
expression of other people’s Ideas, instead of one’s own. An
individual to be really free must do bis own thinking. Those
who do not think simply accept the Ideas of the group into
which they are born, or pick them up by chance contact. The
world tacitly acknowledges this difference. The Individual
who is known to net from Inner convictions Is admitted to be
a higher type than he who acts from the standards of those about him.
Is there such a thing as moral Individuality? Yes, character is an individual
possession. No one can take It away or give it to you. Likewise It is n personal
acquisition. No patent method has ever been found to veneer It from the out
side, or even to piaster It up from the inside. It is an Individual acquisition nud
an Individual possession. It is the Individual factor In life. To strengthen this
individual factor Is to produce stronger men and women.
Tlia whole aim of our school work at present seems to be to prevent the
making of mistakes. Take the study of English, for example, the sentences of
the little children in the lower grades. The whole object Is to get those sen
tences written without an error. The object Is not to evoke thought and to
teach how to express that thought Iu the English language—iu short, to develop
power—but to avoid mistakes.
The schools aro permeated with the spirit that mistakes must not be made.
You will see this even In schools which are alert nnd eager. The pupils aro
alert, but ft is to catch a clue to the correct answer In the manner and aspect of
the teacher. They hang upon the teacher’s lips, but It is not from Interest in the
subject, but to get a “steer” ns to tho way to avoid ranking a mistake. We ore
training children to be dependent on their teachers; nnd a child trained to bo
dependent cannot grow Into a strong, self-reliant adult.
We can have two aims in our educational system-first, to turn out a product
ns near absolute correctness as possible. Oi we con make the development of
power our eml and aim.
You cannot give a child of four the same freedom ns one of ten. Sixteen
cannot be given the same freedom as thirty-two. But there Is po child so young
that It cannot be granted a certain amount of freedom of choice. Then let hint
take the consequence of choice. Lot him learn the lesson of the result of Ills
choice! f
I am of the opinion personally tbnt we could stnnd a very large amount of
freedom. If there were no escaping consequences. Children arc protected too
much—especially In the case of well to do parents who endured hardships iu
their youth. They are determined that their children shall never suffer as they
suffered; nnd they will step In and protect tlieulr children from every conse
quence of the latter’s actions.
Suppose a child chooses to make n box In school. Let him make it. Let him
have freedom of choice. But if he is tired of it In five minutes nnd wants to
sew or cook or draw, insist that ho finish the box. It is tils own choice. No one
obliged him to start It. Having had freedom of choice he must carry It ns near
completion as possible. If it is too difficult nnd lie cannot finish It, let him find
It out. He will remember it when next he comes to make a choice.
When a child can reason from cause tqr effect ho has acquired the power to
think, nnd to control hls own actions, because he can reason out the effects of
them. The typical quality of the very highest character Is self-control. Give the
child the power to think, and he will have self-control.
Is Individual Wealth
Consistent With the
Weliare oi Society?
By Lyman J. Gate, Former Secretary ot the Treasury
* of us who lives iu the moilnrn times, when no famine i
OUR OLD FRIEND. (
Now cornea the eager . V/
Who down the itre.ms will plod.
He'll reel hi. 6,h in by the inch.
His lies off by the rod.
» —Indianspohs San.
f CONTINGENT INDIGNATION.
-Aren't you angry because your hus
band beta on the races?"
■•I don’t know yet.” answered Mr*.
Torklns. "I hareu't heard whether he
won to-day or not.”-WusWnS«>"
Star. t I '»
TICKLED TO DEATH.
“I new knew anyone who could be
,o tickled with * feHther ns my wi»-
"Tickllsh, Is »l»e?”
‘•Not usually, lint this was an os
trich feather she bought at n\bargain
sale.”—Philadelphia Ledger. v
A LOVABLE CHARACTER/
Singleton—"How did you come',to
fall in love wttb your wife?”
Littleton—“I married her for her
money, and afterward discovered that
she possessed twice na much ns she
claimed to have."—Fuck.
PROOF of it.
Mrs. Hatterson-'T wpnder if It has
paid *0 give our daughter, such a good
education?” N
Hattersou—“Paid! Why. c'f course.
Don’t you see from her mani^r how-
auperlor she is to us?”—Life.
“ IMPARTIALITY.
Dashaway—“I tell you, old man. that
the first kiss I got from Miss Plukerly
was delicioua.”
Cleverton—“Don’t »oy a word; I
know all about It. t wan there after
you left.”—Detroit Pre>\Pre«s.
THE WHOLESALE.
“You don't want a boy to carry wa
ter to you, you animated reservoir.
What you*need is a tank car.”—San
Frauclsco Examiner.
I
JERSEY FOSSIL.
“This tusk.” said the Jersey com
muter, “I dug up In my garden. It'»
all of four feet long. Remarkable,
'sn’t It?”
“Yes. It’s very probably the bill
af a prehistoric mosquito.”—Philadel
phia Ledger .
NO STOCK IN TRUSTS.
“I don’t take any stock in these
trusts, anyway.”
“Don’t believe there are such
things?”
“Ob, yes. but I haven’t the money
to buy the stock.'—New .Orleans
Times-Democrat.
METHODIC Al..
“You say you never eat your Thanks
giving dinner until after sunset?”
j “Never,” replied Mr. Bliggins. “I
' always wait till the football game ia
| over and then if Josh hasn't any bones
j broke we go ahead with the cere*
1 mony.’’—Washington Star.
A COMPLIMENT.
Miss Planer—“Mr. Jolley Is such a
flatterer. As we passed him just now
disease stalk the land, when he visits the city and walks up the # j I heard him remark very audibly that
avenues and sees the palaces, nnd the dresses of the richest
fabrics uml rarest patterns, and all the luxuries that unbounded
wealth can give, bis views are unlike those of the barbarians.
If he Is a believer In Divine Providence he Is likely to inquire
how the good things in life should be divided in such a partial
manner. Tolstoy 1ms said that no one has a right to anything
that be has not produced by hls own hand, and a more modern
man. a preacher, has said that no man acquires $1,000,000 hon
estly. That sounds flrst rate for people who have not $1,000,000. That Is the
question 1 want to consider, but l can do so only superficially at this time.
There is a preliminary question, and that is, “How is wealth produced, and
how Is it rightfully divided?’’
I had such shell-like cars.”
Miss Speltz—“Ob, was that what he
said? I understood him to say shelf
like.' —Philadelphia Press.
GREAT GALL.
Slubb—“Now, that’s what I call gall.
The idea of that doctor makiug calls in
an automobile.”
Penn—“Gall? Why, I think it i»
very enterprising for a doctor to use
an automobile.”
Oue thing is manifest to all. It is that land, labor nnd capital In them- j Stubb—“But he’s a horse doctor.”-*
selves have no power at all. Land idle grows weeds, labor unemployed ; Chicago News.
starves, capital when not in use brings no returns. |
If you look at the matter fairly you will find that there is another faculty,
and that is ability. If any umn by Ills ability, ingeuuity. skill or knowledge so
conserves the thing as to make it useful, he is entitled to a share at least of the
benefits he confers on society.
to return to the old methods of transportation before the adop
tion of the trunk lines, we would have to pay one billion and a half for freight
age more than we pay now. Still, land has not become more fruitful, labor,
is labor, no more efficient, and yet the power has been supplemented by ma-
hinery and scientific discovery. Wealth is being produced with a rapidity
never before known Iu the history of the world, and everybody has part of
the advantages of the enormous Increase in wealth.
The wealth of the country has increased six times since the Civil War.
while the population has increased but two and a half times. Deposits amount
ing to $2,500,000,000 In the savings banks is divided among 5.400.000 depositors.
There are people who do get rich and don’t do anything to deserve it. They get
it by the game of hazard, by fraud in dubious ways, and there are men who
prefer violence and theft to industry. There are adventurers not only In low
finance but high finance in Wall Street, but they constitute only a small part
of the people there.
I have argued the material advantages of wealth, and, I think, demon-
atrated that it la uot injurious to society. There is anotbei question, and that
NOT THE ONLY VICTIM.
Mrs. Neurlch—“We’ll have to dis
charge the butler.”
Neuricb—“Because why?”
Mrs. Neurlch—“He mistook me for
my maid in the dark hallway last
night and actually kissed me.”
Neurlch—“Well, he has my sympa
thy. I made the same mistake my
self one nJgbt last week.“-Chicago
News.
ESCAPED HER NOTICE.
“How did you like the way the min
ister animadverted upon our col
loquialisms last Sunday?” asked Mr.
Oldcastle.
“I didn’t notice it.” replied her hos
tess. ‘Me and Josiah were crowded
out of our own pew and bad to^L?
where we couldn’t see him whenW?
ia the moral dispooitkra of wealth. That I do not propose to disetua. I will I wasn’t standin’ nn - chUHL®*I!2«
lea Ye the other gvetttou to monlieto end pUloeopbm. _ ttoli* . P ’ ~ < - t ‘ lc ‘ 10
