Newspaper Page Text
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County a*’ Herald
Pickens e
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*.
Vol. XII.
m S
FI pip 4
mJA & k
ia
times . In military sentenced prisons an offender. is some-
to carry camion balls from
2”® R la ® c 1 tu”.° e a "o p llc tb f? up al I
daylong. That is v all. u Perhaps i it does not
seem very terrible but it soon wears his
life out. It is practically a death sentence,
and he knows it; he would rather be shot.
Many a sick man disease feels the same way fugging about
the burden of. that lie is
back and forth from day to day. He would
as soon be down with a mortal disease. It
will come to that sooner or later.
dyspepsia A mail’s life liver can be dragged out by
and complaint. The ex-
penence of Mr. J. T. Cardwell, of Fall
Creek Depot, Pittsylvania Co., Va., shows
how Dr. Pierce’s Golden Medical Discov-
ery waking saves people their from consumption by
up nutritive organism and
giving bipod, it power to supply pure, healthy
which drives out blood poisons and
dead tissues and builds up sound, whole¬
some flesh and muscle.
“ I feci it my duty,” writes Mr. Cardwell in a
letter to Dr. Pierce. ” to write you of the lasting
benefits derived from the use of Dr. Pierce’s
Golden Medical Discovery and little ‘ Pellets.’
Seven years ago I contracted a severe cold,
which baffled the skill of one of the best phy¬
sicians in my State. It ran on and I continu¬
ally the grew worse until I concluded Association.’ to write to
'World's Dispensary Medical
The answer to my inquiry advised me to use
‘ Golden Medical Discovery ’ and * Pellets ’ “ for
indigestion and liver complaint; at this time
two months had passed. In two or three medi¬ days
after I had commenced the use of your
cine my cough had entirely stopped, my diges¬
tion was better, my low spirits driven away and
I felt new life and vi^or in my whole body.”
This * marvelous “Discovery” makes
nerve force and rugged power. It is far
better than oily emulsions ; it does not
make weight flabby fat, it does not increase th£
of corpulent ;,cOplc.
iHIMoiflflsSiiil
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, Branch OfijceTmlW Pt., Wnabinjfton, D. C.
A JUDGE’S STORY.
“Should a lawyer defend a man
charged with murder when ho knows
the man to he guilty?" This question
led to an animated discussion, which,
after some two hours, was brought to
an end by the judge suddenly exclaim¬
ing, “Do yon see that man?”
The benchers turned their faces in
the direction indicated by the speaker
jnst in time to sea a tall, lank man in
fihabb 5' atlire leave tbe bniW5n «‘
Before a word was spoken by any of
tbe curious benchers the juibce said, as
though , , musing . to himself, ,, though , in n
tone loud enough for the others to hear
Strange that , I should , ,, sec that , man
just at this moment and when we were
discussing a: fi ,, n , sin ,, a question nrpst ion that Biiat he lie could could
have answered. His life, like mine, jhas
been a failure; but, thank God, my 're-
though , , . be
f?rets, many, can never as
bitter as his are. He ruined his career
as a lawyer , . b 7 defending . , ,. a man who .
had confessed that he was guilty of
IMnr .i„..
“Tell us the story,’’exclaimed the
one known as the proctor.
“He was mined,” began tbe judge,
“by his ambition. ’’
“Ambition." suggested the solicitor,
with a genial smile on his kindly, clean
shaven face, “is responsible for much
good and much evil. It is ambition
thnt has made wrecks, legal driftwood,
of many of us. We have dreamed of
great deeds in our profession; we have
builded fairy castles in the air, while
others have by hard work succeeded. I
for one”—
“The story, the story!’’ exclaimed
several of the benchers.
The judge, thus urged, told his story:
“Some 40 years ago it was that I en¬
tered the small courthouse in a small
town in the western section of New
York. Court was in session, and the
hush that had fallen upon tho crowd in
the room was oppressive. Nothing was
heard at that time but the ticking of
the clock and the breathing of the spec¬
tators. The presiding judge was look¬
ing up some legal question in the law
books before him. The rapt attention
of the jurors and the eagerness of the
counsel caused me to realize that a trial
of more than ordinary interest and im¬
portance was in progress. I asked a by¬
stander what the case on trial was. He
gazed at me in surprise for a moment
and then exclaimed, ‘You must be a
stranger in these parts?’
“‘I am,’I replied. ‘I have just come
hero from New York city to file a com-
plaint in action of ejeetmeut. ’
an
“ ‘This,’ replied my informant, ‘is a
murder trial, and there,' ho pointed in
the direction I was to look, ‘is the man
who will certainly hang.’
“I looked at the prisoner at the bar.
He was a good looking young fellow
about 25 years of age. There was some-
thing in the expression of his pale face
that convinced me of his guilt.
“While the trial judge turned over
page after page of the law books I learn-
ed the details of the crime. ”
Here the story teller took a nip from
the fiask tho proctor handed to him
ami then resumed:
“I learned that in his house on the
outskirts of the town, one morning two
months before the day of the trial,
John Peterkin, a wealthy old man, who
had been, it was said, in the habit of
keeping largo sums of money in his
house, was found murdered, shot in the
back. The murdered man had been
seated when he was shot, for his chair
was overturned just ns he had fallen
from it. Peterkin, who was about 07
years old, lived alone with his niece, a
pretty girl about 18 years old. She it
was who discovered the murder. When
she had sufficiently recovered from her
alarm, the niece, Mary Peterkin, aroused I
the neighbors.
“At first it was thought that the
motive of the crime had been robbery,
but when the police discovered that the !
safe, the door of which was unlocked i
and half way open, contained $1,750, j
and that the old man’s watch had not
been taken, thut theory had to be aban-
doned. For several days the case was a
mystery. Then it came to the knowl- ;
edge of the chief of police that Hose; 11
Renidder, the only son of a widow,
whose father had been postmaster of
the little town, had been seen unkindly around
the house and had spoken of
old Peterkin. Iieuidder was pat und:r
arrest.
“When I had learned this much,”
said tha judge, “the trial judge, whom 1
we will call Blank, looked up from the !
legal books and said, ‘I will admit the |
testimony objected to.'
“While Judge Blank was reviewing
the law questions I looked at Mary j
Peterkin. She was seated in the rear of
the courtroom and was an exceedingly
pretty young woman, the pallor of her
refined face illumined b 7 large blue
eyes. She was in deep mourning, which !
but enhanced ‘Proceed,’ her exclaimed beauty—, Judge Blank. j !
“
“The witness on the stand—a police
officer—then testified that he had found
a small revolver with an ivory 7 handle
in some bushes just outside cf tha win-
dow of the room where the crime had
been committed.
“ ‘Were there any marks on that re¬
volver ?’ asked Horace Dash, counsel for
the prisoner, tbe man I just pointed
out to you.
“ ‘Yes.’ replied tbe witness.
“ ‘What were the marks?’
“ ‘The initials M. P..’ replied the
witness.
1 1 « Did you ascertain who owned that
pistol?' asked Lawyer Dash.
“ ‘Yes; Mary Peterkin.’ J
“An exclamation of surprise went
around that little courtroom. Mary !
Peterkin started np in bewilderment
and then fell back iuto her chair. . i
“ ‘Silence in the courtroom!' ex- j
claimed Judge Blank.
“With a face paler than that of ei-
ther the prisoner or the niece of the
murdered man, Lawyer Horace Dash.
Jasper, Georgia, Friday, April 21, 1891).
counsel for Ihe prisoner, said totliewit-
ness, ‘Btep down. ’
“Tlie nest witness called was n wom¬
an who had formerly been employed by
old Peterkin as a housekeeper. She was
exceedingly nervous, and her voice
trembled when die swore to tell tho
truth. There was a malignant expres¬
sion on the face cf the counsel for the
prisoner when he tasked the witness:
“ 'Do you know Mary Peterkin?’
“ ‘I do,’ waa tho reply.
“ ‘She is tho niece of the murdered
man?’
“ ‘She is, ’ replied tho woman in a
whisper. dead
“ ‘Yon oneo lived with the man
and his niece?'
“ ‘I did.'
“ ‘Did uncle and niece ever quarrel?'
“ ‘Must I answer that?' asked the
old woman, turning toward Judge
Blank.
“ ‘You uinst,’ sternly replied the
judge.
“ ‘Yes. They quarreled, ’ faltered
the witness.
“ ‘What about?' asked the counsel
for the prisoner.
“ ‘She—Mary—wanted to marry a
man her uncle did not approve of.’
“All eyes were turned toward Mary
Peterkin, who, with an expression of
horror on her face, sat crouched up in
her chair. Every one in that courtroom
seemed to realize that the testimony al¬
ready adduced against the prisoner at
tho bar was as nothing c<J>ipared the with girl.
that just brought out against
The prisoner at the bar was pale and
trembling and, 1 thought, an object of
abject misery. Then the thought Hash¬
ed across my mind that he might he in¬
nocent. It waa evident that Lawyer
Dash was struggling with himself when
he asked the next question. Peterkin
“ ‘Did you ever hear. Miss
threaten her uncle?’
“ ‘I heard her say onco that she
wished he was dead. ’ replied the wit¬
ness.
“With a moan of anguish Mary Pe¬
terkin fainted. The prisoner started
forward and, despite the efforts of tho
bailiffs to restrain him, exclaimed:
“ ‘This is a shame. I am guilty, and
that man’—pointing his finger at Law¬
Horace Dash—‘knows that I ’
yer am.
“‘What does this mean? 1 asked
Judge Blank, addressing the prisoner’s
counsel, who was leaning on tho table
and seemed about to faint.
“ ’I don’t know, your honor,’ replied
tho luwyer, who waa seen to press his
band to his heart.
“‘Let the trial proceed,’ said Judge
Blank, ‘and don’t let that woman,’ in-
dieating Maty Peterkin. ‘leave this
’
room.
„ lD1 Stop! exc.aimed , . , the ,, prisoner. . ,, 1
withdniv/ iny of cot guilty. I aB)
gui!
,,“ tor a moment silence oppressive
9 ‘ lcnce ‘ l '« gue d Fiual ‘y the
J nd .f sald - ‘ T Do J 011 appreciate your
positioa-that I T can pass sentence of
deatb y on *
‘ 1 do -, , rp f ,ed tba prisoner, . with a
-
d f ant look afc his counsel, ‘but I would
hke to say 0 few words.
Proceed, sro, said Judge Blank,
“ ‘ J committed ihe crime, your hon¬
or - but cot from desire for gain. It was
done 111 a moment of anger, just anger,
aud ^ or ^ be take u, y dear old mother.
tears ago my moth-m, so that she might
P a 7 some i.ehts I contracted while in
college, mortgaged her farm the home
wbere fcbe Vi,as born, the home that she
w cnt to as a happy wife, the home
where I was born—to old Peterkin.
Facb 7°^ since then she paid to him
usurious interest. Finally there came a
da y whel > ht! would llot renew the “*°rt-
S a K e - dhat was the day I killed him. I
pl«a<lecl with him, but in vain. He in-
81stcd lie would foreclose the mortgage,
caded w 7 mother a vile name. 1
saw * be revolver on his desk, picked it
U P HBd aimed at him. He wheeled
aronnd in his chair toward his desk, and
the bullet entered liis back.
“While he was telling this story the
P risoner severs! times pressed his hand
t° b ' a left side and moaned as if in pain,
** ‘Have you anything else to eay?
as ^ e( ^ Judge Blank,
“ ‘Yes; I want to suy, explained the
prisoner in gasping tones, ‘that after ]
bad retaineJ that lawyer pointing to
Horace Dasu ‘I told him I was guilty;
Hmt I wanted to plead guilty. He for-
bade m 7 doing so. Said it was a gplen-
d j d case - He would acquit me and cover
himself with glory. He said he would
af,k 110 fee -. 1 nr S ed tb at I was guilty,
bu *- be said he could clear me. Icon-
s en t«d to the plea of not guilty.’
“Again the prisoner placed his hand
to bis heart and with an effort said:
H could not save my life ut the expense
an innocent person, and that person
8 woman. I am guilty,
“He « a nk back iuto a chair, and
Jndge Blank turned to Horace Dash,
Hm prisoner s counsel, and asked:
‘What have you to - say ior your-
self?’
“ ‘I did my dnty—my plain duty,
said the lawyer. ‘Aslunderstandit.it
is « lawyer’s duty to defend bis client
and to acquit him ns best he can’—
“ ‘Not at the expense of an innocent
person. 1 remarked Judge Blank.
“ ‘I maintain it is,’ replied tbo law-
y er - ‘Although a prisoner may con- He
f <;6s guilt, ho may be innocent.
might be insans when he confessed. He
might be actuated by a desire to save
at the expense of bi3 life a guilty per¬
son. He might’—
“ ‘I am guilty!’ shouted the pris¬
oner. ‘1 did it. I did it. I’ —
“He fell backward on tlie counsel’s
table, gaSped, and after a few convul¬
sive movements attempted to rise, fell
back, twisted half around, and his soul
passed to a higher tribunal. Judge
Blank, after ascertaining that the pris-
oner at the bar was dead, said, ‘I ac-
cept his plea cf guilty, added;
The teller of this story then
“The man who so strangely passed be-
foro me today was the prisoner’s law-
yer. He never prospered at the bar.
His career was ruined with the case
which lie hoped would earn him fame.'
-New York Sun.
THE MODERN ENGLISHMAN.
An Incident Which A|itiy Illintratci
MU l)clfbi»rutciu*a».
To illustrate ihe deliberitten, - of l ie
modern Englishman let ins b 1| of a hat
which blew off <i nnchgih 'd l-> . d on
the top of tl bus crossing 111® t In idge.
A stiff breeze blew np the • lines, and
the hat was whirled agaii st the side of
the bridge and then v.vnt spinni
down the footway in tin opposite di-
rection from that which ho omnibus
pursued. “1 say,” said 1 mechanic,
reaching over and touch,. ^ the driver
on the shoulder; “me al’s Mowed off. ”
The driver fidgeted a m- mint ut this
sudden interruption, then cook u tight¬
er graap of the reins r.ud ; joked to the
horses to quicken their-** Tlie li :t
and the vehicle spun a loti,; in opposite
ways. “1 say, driver, ” salt, the mechan¬
ic; “me 'tit’s Mowed off.” . The driver
fidgeted again, but now hi mind grasp¬
ed the situation, though . tost unwill¬
ingly.
“It 'as, ’as it?” he said, tnrning to
the man. “Well, then. Tint’ll teach
yon to liny 'nts to fit vo> ead. I 'ad n
’ole lot of hits blow ud- t* ore I made
up me mind to get ’< ui lit me Ned.
After (hat I 'ad no more lioublo.”
The hut was still bowlinj along and
was now at the farther ud of the
bridge. The meehuuic« £ lied at it
dully. I was in a fever gratuitous
impatience for the I us to stop or for
the man to climb down. The driver
turned back to his work an 1 clucked to
liis horses, who qnivkmed their the (light gait.
Just then a vagrant stopped,
of the hat and run and caught tho bns
and got a penny for his pains. So every
oue was happy, even I.—Julian Ralph
in Harper’s Magazine.
Pajn’n Fearful Wrl iAg.
James Payn’s chirography is some¬
thing fearful to contemplate. It is sim¬
ply execrable. The Aendemj tells a nice
story about Payn’s "bewilih ring hand¬
writing.' Miss Jane Burlaw sent a
poem as a first contribution to The
Cornhiil when Payn was its editor.
Think of the lady receiving a brief lira
which she interpreted as follows: “I
have no use for silly veises.
Of course Miss Barlow indulged in
copious tears. There never was such an
ill mannered snub. Then sho com¬
menced to study the scrawl. Now came
a gleam of light, for sho dimly made
out what it really was. “I h pe to use
pretty verses. ”
your
Alas, when yon are, as a poet, “de¬
clined with thanks,” there is today no
possibility of error, for the fatal missive
is always typewritten.
Femiuine FeatuxveV
“While woman may have, face 01
the dollar, said tl.” ’ ilo-’o
<
pher. looklnjr trinigui i ,,u 1 *
“yet, to tell the truth, she r i. pt
to have her eye on the 38 c la-
dianapolis Journal. 0
The depth of water affects the speed
of steamers very considerably, the ves¬
sels moving more slowly in shalli w
than in deep water.
About one German woman in evtiy
27 works in a factory.
llcn.jiy Is lllooil Deep.
C!ci\n 1 i j(,1 aeiios a clean skin, r'
beauty without it. (.'u^curcU, keep Candy. eleen, O.th
tic clean is;*; jour blood and it hy
stirring t he lazy liver and driving all im¬
purities Lf.niah from tbe body. Begin today lo
pimples, boi.'.s, blotches, blackheads,
Cascarets,—beauty and that sickly bilious complexion by taking
for ten cents. All drug¬
gists, satisfaction guaranteed, }0c, 25c,50c.
THE MOON AND THE PINES.
Oh, vwoet is the hush in the pine tree boughs,
And sweet la tho breath of tho night.
When the earth quiet lies
And tho grass waves and sighs,
We are waiting tlie beautiful moon!
Oh, low moana tlie dove in the pine tree boughs,
And low moans his mate* on her nast
While the wdnd whispers low
And tho soft waters flow
In the sheen of the pule, tender moon.
Oh, clear shines the light on the pine ti o«
boughs!
Oh, clear shines tile light of the moonf
When the clouds softly lie
On tho bright eastern shy,
They are bathed in the gleam of the moon.
Oh, dark wave the tops of the, pine, tree boughs*
Oh, dark wave fheir tops 'kv fpt the aky!
While the earth and the sky
And the Boft waters lie ;■
In the light of the beautiful moon.
E. Harrison in Ladi«y»’tTome Journal
71
I lEMSIONf SCUTS !
* U
S is. a food medicine for .he
§ baby that is thin and not *
H well nourished and for he ^
cj mother wliose milk does
H ¥ not nourish the baby, ut j
w It is equally rood for the :
M boy or gir! who is thin ;.r d .*
pale and not well nourished h
¥ by their food; also for ti e '
* anaemic cr consumptive
•!£ that is iosin^ flesh '
¥ | adult
and strengtii. all conditions ¥
¥ In fact, for
|[ of medicine vjastin^, that it will is the nourish feed \\
¥
2 and build up t]ie body £rd • '
¥ give new life and energy
|[ when aii ether means fall.
I Should U tub "H If rt amer as
@ r ■cil 3 winter. - »r
■■5 git druggists.
if S SCOTT n BC -nwr.su, MW rt, ■'
1
A RICKSHAW HIDE.
The , lampllt veranda ... of a large , hungit-
low out sill o l’em.ng. Between two palms
In dragon jars nt the top of the vcramla
steps stands a pretty girl in a pink ball
gown holding n fan and gloves in her
hands. Sho looks anxiously round, Thoro
ts no one to bo seen but a Cl.lncfe boy
standing at a respectful distance in tbo
background.
Tbo LJirl—They surely can’t have gono
Without mo? I ought to have como down
a little sooner 1 overdid it, pooso that I
am! However, I'vo a routed being paired
off fora throe mile drive in a rickshaw
wdim man In a state of wrath because I
wasn't somebody else (A pause.) What
If 1 don’t go to this hateful danco after
all? Thev’il all snv afterward that I
shirked It, 1 suppose—shirked seeing him
with her. Oh, ho, thnt wouldn't do—I'll
show them! (Sho snatches a thin silk
wrap off a chair, twists It hurriedly round
her she aiders and calls to tho servant.)
Bov, Buna Kreta-Hongkong!
(Ho comes forward and shouts. A sour-
ry of wheels Is hoard, and two spots of
light appear in tho darkness of the garden
and grow rapidly the.,,',solves larger and larger till
they resolve into tho lamps of
a somewhat decrepit looking rickshaw.
Tho girl prepuroB to got In, but suddenly
finds sho has forgotten her hnndkorchlef,
and goes Indoors to fetch It. While she Is
away a young man in evening dress comes
out and looks cautiously about him.)
Tho Young Man (ph.t. S ly)-Thank the
Lord! They've gone! Ha, ha! you’ve es-
ouped that rather neatly, my boy! loan
see It all. “Mr. Davenport, you’ll escort
Miss Novlllo of course.” Chuckle headed
Idiots people aro. "Oh, delighted—yes!”
and then snub, snnb, snub, for three solid
everlasting miles! Not much! If sho
thinks I’m going to oomneto with a little
cod like Raymond! (Shrugs his shoulders
and tries to look jaunty.) Well, here’s my
rickshaw, I suiiposo. Oh, tills confounded
danco!
[Ho sees the girl coming out of the
house. She stops abruptly and stares nt
j, lui \
She—Is It—It Is Mr. Davenport?
Ho (nervously) — Y-yes — nt least—I
mean-1 am afraid I’m a bit late. The-
the others seem to have gono, don’t they?
Sho i frigidly)-Yes. Would you kindly
call me another rickshaw?
IIo—Certainly. (To himself.) This
snub’s in private, at any rate.
[He interviews tbo boy, and then turns
to her with u ilismayod countenance. ]
Ho—I’m awfully rorry. Miss Neville,
but tliero’s not another rickshaw to be
had anvwhero. They’vo only left this one
behind for-for us both.
Sho (blankly)—Oil! IIo
[An cmliarrassiiig pause. glowers
darkly nt tho unoffending cooly, and sho
becomes absorbed in a refractory glove
bntton I
He (w ith an cfforU-Er-er-knowing
what your feelings are, Miss Neville, I
ear.—riv jjjgger.t that I remain bore, and
* Jcdiie So riel show to yourself, I have
to to thiswffalr, I - sure you.
When ./t, Sc's\i ,* ust L ' ^ ’■ f,<bvt)ocr;tol
fo knows to "get to
that Sym.es girl! ButTWlv be so mean
as to tuke him at bis word, badly as he
has behaved. (To him.) Cortainly not,
Mr. Di venport. I wouldn’t think cf In-
terfering w Ith ponplo’samusoment In such
a way. I will stay here—I’ve got a head- j
ache—and you must take tho rickshaw.
Ho—How could I go and tell your cous-
In I’d left you here? Impossible! As I t
said before, I will gladly—
She (sharply)—No, you won’t. (To her- ) !
self.) That girl shan’t say I kept him
away from her (To him) Wo must just
make tho host of an unfortunate occur¬
rence, and both go. Pleaso don’t argue [
about it—it only makes U—I mean jay ,
cou.-in will get anxious if wo'ro so long
coming.
[Sho gets into tho rickshaw and ho fol¬
lows. The cooly raises his shafts and
starts his load down tho drive aud Into a
narrow roail last)—Er—it’s ut a smart trot. ]
IIo (at a dark night,
isn't it?
Sho—Very. (A pause.)
He (desperately)—After all, it's only
three miles, anil this seems to bo a fairly
good cooly, doesn't lie?
She—Yes. (Another pauso. Her social
Instincts getting tho hotter of her.) I—I
wonder If you will ho very gay In Selan¬
gor? They say there’s a food deal going
on there, and you'll be just In time for the
races. *
Ho—I believe so, hut I am not going In
for that sort of thing. I moan to got
some shooting if I’ve any time to spare-
tigers, if possible. I hear it’s pretty fever¬
ish where I am going, but there’s lots of
big game, and after all that’s all I need
caro about.
She (vaguoly)—Y—yes— I suppose—for
a man. (Tohorself.) That doesn’t sound
very nice for Miss Symcs, somehow! How
funny of him! What can he bethinking
of? This thing jolts a great doal. I—I
hope It’s quite sufet
Ho—Oh, yes I It’s all right, I think
only it’s a ghastly old machine, and tho
springs are pretty well worn out.
[A long silence, broken only by the
croak[iyu>f Innumerable frogs, A blaoker
isa^Ku.,.. oFe* no..<l shows tjiac they are
passing through a plantation with trees,
that arch across the road. Fireflies make
zigzags of flickering green blue light,
some late and dissipated cicadas sing a
shrill accompaniment to tho patter of the
cooly’s feet. Tho air smolls moist and
wann.j Sho themselves)-This
Ho anil (to is
getting awful. (Aloud.) It’s a hot ulght,
Isn’t It? (Mutual confusion.)
Ho (with a nervous laugh)—That’s ono
subject wo don’t disagree on, at any rate,
Shc (with cold politeness)—Indeed 1 I
was not aware that wo disagreed to any
extent that need disturb us.
lle (warming up)—No! Perhaps you
are right. You haven't given me many
chances of doing so lately.
She (catching fire)—I certainly prefer
giving itr chances, as you call them, to
people about whoso disagreeing there !e
aonio shadow of doubt.
no (involuntarily)—Raymond, for ln-
stanco?
[Dead silence.)
She (tohorself)—The I dog In positive. the manger No
was a man—of thut nin
dog would do such a thing ns completely
throw over a girl for another and thon
snarl because tho first girl speaks once or
twice to another ma—dog!
[She perceives her simile Is becoming
rather mixed, and laughs In spite of her¬
self.)
He—You seem amusod, Miss Neville.
She (mendaciously)—I was just think-
ing. Suppose every one has filled up their
programmes?
Ho (tohimself)—As if she hadn’t prom-
ised that little cad! (Aloud, meaningly.)
I fancy there is no great danger of that.
She (to herself)—Of Course. I wonder
how many sho is keeping for him? In
bltiu, led—luo only iijiu„ tlj use straw col¬
ored girls look well lnl Oh, If I'm oot
very oiireful I .hull n«y something--silly,
l ki)(uj t ogam , tin., « Clio only Way.
1 Silence again. Eventually tlioy turn ■
oornor and cunin out oil tl.o highroad.]
He—Wo shall aoon bo there no.v.
Sho (with an almost 1 muiliblo slgli)—
Yes.
[He Interprets tho sigh ns one of relief,
an< * relapses promptly Into dignified si¬
,ou '?°- Ihe pace becomes more a.x-1 move
“ d th ° r, ° k8l ' aW } ° Ua from 8ido to
llo—Inm very sorry to bump against
y 0 u so, but_
Sho (growing nervous)—Oh—oh, never
mtndl Don’t you think wo are going too
fast? P lensu toll him not to—(agitated)—
°h,ploaac--I don’t like It!
(Ho shouts a the oooly, who shouts
back in,unlntel giblo Cb'nose.l
Hc-I-I can t quite make out what ho
says, Miss Novlllo, but I’m afraid he onn’l
slower. I ho rickshaw s got a bit too
much for )Im. .
[Then a part oAtho darkness suddenly
becomes u solid and heaves up, and hits tho
rickshaw full on tbo side. Presently tho
f irl ®‘ t8 ®»*, ln tbo ,ulddle °* * b " r ° ad a J ld
look«rou» .T NearheTatthe foot of a
>° w wa "’ re ™ aln ?, of
8b»w-ono lamp 1. smashed thootberstm
burns dimly, and she secs lying in the
a vague dark heap. She looks at this
for a moment, then suddenly rises and
goes quickly to it.
fe ho (with a frightened cry) Oh, Mr.
Davenport-Waiter! Dari ng-don t look
* lnt ob, don t, don tl (lotho oooly)
-»*» J uS ° k »nd fetch some one! Gel
water I And we’ve done nothing but quar-
relcver since yesterday morning. My
faU ' t ’ "" U ‘ y fallltI H ,°' v ? , ) U1 n ?'' or ha Y a
aoti f d ‘ h »‘» , I hadn’t- , Oh
my dear! My denrl Oh, wako! Come back!
1 Icu l will
)^ b ® bursts Into tears, j ho man comes
to and opens h s astonished eyes in the
Pltohy darkness ] Whattbedev-
„,?* Where e anil? b Why, this can t be It is
though Crying, upon my soul!
she (subb.ng)—Ohl Will he no will, one anil over I
°°mo? lie will dio, I know
can do nothing for him nothing!
Ho—Marlon! Then d you moan to say
Y ou <j° n ’ t oar ® (oT that mtl ° bruto
monil after nil f
Sho-Ob how you frighten .... mol (Cries , ,
more than before.)
Hepeerlngoagorly Into her fiico through
‘ ha dark)--Don’t cry Tell me Let me
hoar you say you don’t care for that little
brute-you didn’t want his beastly ban-
8 1 * “ a " !ld * 7°“ * ake “■
® ba (so.ibing) I th--throw It away
d-dRectly after. Oh oh Walter! I-I-
thought you were d dead!
Ho (vigorously)-Darllng!
‘ Sbo (proHently)-Then jou’ro really not
.
Ho (beainlng) Not a bit. Arn you? .
^ho (oHssfully) Oh, no I Only my
book’s all over lamp oil and dust I can’t
go to the danco, that s cenaln f But (mis-
oblevously) you might go and-and sit
out, you know, with MEs hynics.
He (laughing) What! ihat girl? ^ Oh,
you ridloulous—
She (magnanimously) lad I call
born von-mcQ srtrl ISk-ar
*' UhuAuousfy/- PuT
oonso, ° Haytuond, poor little folrtw! Ho
~ho's not lmlf a bao Uttlo chap, I think,
(They laugh.)
Ho (suddenly)—Ey Jcve, hero’s that
‘°°* °‘ n 00 °'y con jug mok. Cot np,
<lonr, Ho ’ h K ot tWo nvvs with him,
and your cousin, end, cli, confound the
follow! Whtit need ho have been in such
an aw *'o hurry for?
She—Yes! Rushing bonk like that, the
®f u Phl idiot!—St. Paul’s,
- - ..... —
WITH THE COWBOYS.
HOW WESTER!! RANCHMEN CELE-
BRATE THE NEW YEAR.
Tlie G»y Famlunso of tlie PlnJiia,
IlantlnR the Wild Turkey — Other
JollificotiouM That Brighten Prai¬
rie Idle at New Year's.
Along with the round ups, barbecues
and log rai.Jngs tho festivities of the New
Year’s holiday season como with well timed
regularity to break tho monotony of the
cowboy’s prosaic life. In the ranging
country of tho northwest, where the entire
possessions of the average ranchman con¬
sist of a few hundred cattle, half a dozen
ponies and a rudedugout or “shack,” fur¬
nished with the bare necessities, and
where there are only a few cowboys to do
the whole work of the ranch, the only as¬
sured diversion of the yo.ir Is tho June
round up. Unless tho cowboy goes Into a
frontier town to tuke in a barnstorming
performance or a “show” given by a trav¬
eling prestidigitator he has absolutely no
outside diversion.
But In tho older ranching territories of
tbo southwest, where stock raising has
settled down Into a safe and remunerative
business, and tho precarious livelihood
and pioneer simplicity have given way to
an assured Income with comfort and plen¬
ty, the holiday jollification has como to be
an established custom. It is a pleasant
break to tho winter spent hi “riding lines”
ovor the country orpoker and cutthroat
euchro indoors. |
A few days before Now Year’s prapara-
t,ons HTO begun for tho big danco v, hlch
inaugurates tbo season's festivities. The
ranch where tho hall or “fandango” Is to
ho held Is literally given over to the boys
f °r tbo occasion, and they never fall to
make the most of It Invitations are sent
out over tbo neighborhood within a radius
of 20 miles, and nearly every one Is accept-
ed > for a li<io of 20 ,nllc » to one aocus-
tomed to spending 10 or l 1 hours a day in
the saddle Is a more nothing.
Besides this is tho on? opportunity of
the year to spend money iavlshly for the
sake of u good time. An extra oook or
two are hired and supplier enough luid In
to food a small army It is the privilege
of evory cowboy on tho place to mako out
a Ilst of tho eatables that ho feels that his
constitution demands. A nil several days
beforehand the groat wagon is hitched up
and a trip taken to the nearest town to get
provisions.
A more heterogeneous mixture of edibles
can scarcely be imagined—raisins, nuts,
candies, canuod meats aim fruitv, pickles,
crackers, anything kept and recommend¬
ed by the obliging a; <1 neighborly grocery
man.
In addl . on to tbo ctoro i ought delicacies
for the feast the ranch cock distinguishes
himself in tho way of horbeouc.d shotos,
game, “posfum ami tutors, ” pies and
cokes and the like For a week or two
bofore the least nil hands loud their aid to
the capturingof game and the finding and
saving of eggs.
As for ihe fandango, the preparations
are f «w aE<l simple. Beds and other space
consuming pieces of furniture are removed
from tho rooms intended for the dance.
Tbo bare floors .are sand scoured and
No. 3.
(leaked with ilia liili simvlugi of sperm
oaniUes, which foon, under tho many glid¬
ing foot of tbn dancoi s, form a thin, slink
coating, delightful and seductive to the
feet On two sides of the room, close up
against the wi.il, a r< ,v of chairs is sot for
tho accommodation of thoso not dancing.
By 6 o'cli ck In tho evening tho guests
begin to arrive, the bi ys having gone after
the girls on borsohack generally, some of
tho “tony” octiploa oming In buggies,
tho high aor.te l ” piano boxed” vehicles of
tho west, with tholi double teams and
general air of smartness.
Tho girls haro their party dresses tucked
up under their black calico riding skirts,
some of them bringing waists, gloves and
wlilto kill slippers, done up in a bundle to
bo put on after they arrive. And a merry
hearted, me: ry faced set they aro, oheeks
glowing and eyes sparkling from the ex¬
hilaration of tho ride in the wind and the
exportation of the unwontod frollo, fiddlers,
Tho ni usln is furnished by ue*rro
whose repertory of old fashioned “break¬
downs” Is never improved upon, nor ever
falls short of Its early charm and Infection
upon Its hearers.
In tho same “set” there may be one
muii with a “ store’' suit on and another In
Ids rogulnr suit, consisting of blue Uannel
ovorshlrt anil leather belt, buckskin leg¬
gings or cottonade overalls.
Tho boys laugh loud, clap each other,
hang their “guns” on the wall while they
are dancing and steal behind the bouse for
tliolr drink between sets, but they treat
tbo girls like queens. No matter how
rough their clothes, they generally have
white hands and smnll, well clad feet.
They will wear boots, but they have them
mado with high hocls, of fine leather,
pointed toes and often red tops.
They revol in ilnnolng. They are grace¬
ful, natural, muscular and active. Danc¬
ing to thorn Is horseback riding In good
company, under sholtor, and to the tuna of
a fiddle. It gives free play to their untir¬
ing, restless bodies unil at the same time
satisfies and delights their love of women's
society and good fellowship.
Thoso holiday dances last all night, their
only breakf.ist lining nt 10 o’clock, when
eggnog Is served, and at 12, when tbo big
supper is eaten. Then with renewed vigor
and spirits they return to tho floor, Tlw
liras burn low in the great chimneys, the
kerosene lamps flicker and smoke, the fid¬
dlers doe and play on meohanloally, the
girls languish, and even the oowboy 1dm-
sclf feels tho force and strain of protraoted,
time measured motion. But the danoo
goes on.
Not until the dull red glow of sunrise
oreeps over tho dun prairies does tbe music
stop.
Then after u breakfast of “cold bits’ 1
and strong, hot black coffeo the girls go
to rooms prepi.rod for them at tho ranch,
or, mounted on fleet footed bronohos, go
galloping over tho prairies, the fresh wUd
wind in their tacos am) the thrilling mem¬
ory of sweet words or sweeter promises In
their wholesome, simple hearts.—New
York Herald.
Lts’st ISEASES
ni»
a - •* -«
^ |> t nsumptionisern-
- j i
3 J I'M t to. rh of the lungs.
55 ■f\) Certain complica-
tiojis make consump-
v/ ., ** 1 K /Ion incurable. cases of
) death from
con-
4ffih*as£mt<m; : zz3t j sumption *»«•
i '’J&m the di^-t result
Pe-ru-na works ionsly with
nature to eject the tubercles from tha
lungs, and works so successfully that
if tiiero is » cure for consumption
Pe-ru-na is the remedy.
Read this letter from Mrs. H. A.
Tyner, of Four Oaks, N. C., about her
daughter, Mrs. L. Keene. She says:
Pe-ru-na Medicine Co., Columbus, O.
DicAit Sms:—“My daughter had every
symptom of consumption—suppression
of menscb, night sweats and great ema¬
ciation. She was so low that none of
our neighbors thought she could live.
In May Mr. C. K. Adams, of this place,
who had taken Pe-ru-na, told mo if
anything would help her Pe-ru-na
would, I got a bottle of it and some
rock eundy and b"gan giving it to her.
During the first few days she was so
weak she could only take a half tea-
spoonful at a time, hut I gave it to
her as often os she could bear it. In
less than a week she could walk two
hundred yards anil back without rest¬
ing; she kept getting stronger, and ia
twelve months sho seemed to be as wo). 1 ,
assheeverwasinlicrlife. I feel, and so
does every one that knew about her
sickness, that l’e-ru-na saved her life.
My daughter’s name is Mrs. L. Kceae.’’
Ask any druggist for a free Pe-
ru-na Almanac for the year 1899.
Prulr Ifenr Flesh.
“An Italian prelate who believes
himself a master of the English lan-
gnago,” says a correspondentof an Eng-
, igh * - „ wag whi]e an hoDCIed
(■" f„ monB ^ cnllesa 8 ® asked ** to
. at tbo , bigb ... ® a J“ „ °° Sunday,
tils discourse was diversified by neolo-
gums that kept our attention alive, if
they sometimes disordered our gravity,
which finally collapsed under the propo-
nitiou:
" ‘There arc, ruy brethren, three ene-
, a „ ain6( . whom all ODr i onB
b ?? d t,. _the devil the world
and , (for , a moment he pondered oarne)
‘tbo meat, I 11
WHOOPING digressing sights is
Ono of the ni isfc the
to nee a child almot choking with
dreadful whooping-cough. Givo the
child Dr. J oh a W. B.til’s Congh and Syrup, tho
relief will be obtained at one©
sufferer will soon bo cured.
Br.'ulrs tr
COUCH SYRUP
Cures Whooping-Cough quickly.
Doses are small and pleasant to take. Doctor*
recommend it. Price 25 cts. At all uruffKifti*
f