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GRADY COUNTY PROGRESS, CAIRO, GEORGIA.
The Gall of the
Cumberlands
By-Charles Neville Buck
With Illustrations
from Photographs of Scenes
; in the Play
(Copyright, igij, by W. J. Watt He Co.)
SYNOPSIS.
,.On Mlsory crook Salty Miller
icott, a landscape
Josao Purvy of
finds
oonaulbuB. „ „
clan ltua been allot anil Snmson la aim
neoted of tho crime. Snmaon dunloa it.
Tito shooting breaks tho truco In the
Hollnmn-South foud. Lescutt discovers
nrtlBtlc ability in 8amson. Samson
thrashes Tamarack Spicer and denounces
him ns tho "truce-buster" who shot Purvy.
Snmson tells the South clnn that ho is
going to leave tho mountains. Leseott
goes homo to Now York. Snmson bids
Spicer and Sally farewell and followa. In
Now York Samson studies art and learns
much of city ways. Drennle Leseott per
suades Wilfred Horton, her dilettante
' lover, to do u man's work In tho world.
Prompted by her love, Sally tenches her
self to write. Horton throws himself Into
the business world and becomes well-
hated by predatory financiers -and politi
cians. At a Bohemian resort Sumson
meets William Fnrblsl), sporty aoclnl par
asite, nnd Horton's enemy. Farblsh con
spires with others to make Horton Jeal
ous. nnd succeeds. FnrblBh brings Horton
and Samson together at tho Konmore
club's shooting lodge, nnd forces an open
rupture, expecting Samson to kill Horton
nnd so rid the political and financial thugs
of tho crusader. Samson exposes the plot
nnd thrashes the conspirators. Samson Is
advised by his tenchcrs to turn to po~
trait painting. Drennle commissions nil
to paint her portrait. Sally goes to school.
Sumson goes to Paris to study.
CHAPTER XII—Continued.
“No," site said, "we haven’t done
that, yet. I guess we won’t. . . -
I think he’d rather stay outside, Wil
fred. ir I was sure I loved him, and
that ho loved me, I'd feel like a cheat
—there la the other girl to thinkj’of.
. . . And, besides, I'm not sure wi
I want myself. . . . But I’m horrlbl
afraid I’m going to end by losing you
both."
Horton stood silent. It was tea
time, and from below came the strains
of tho ship’s orchestra. A few ulster-
mufllod passengers gloomily paced
the dock.
.“You won’t lose us both, Drennie,”
he Bald, steadily. “You may lose your
choice—but, If you find yourself able
* to fall back on substitutes, I'll be
there, waiting.” ,
For once he did not meet her scru
tiny, Or know of it. His own eyes were
fixed on the slow swing of heavy,
gray-green waters. He was smiling,
but it is ns a man smiles whon ho con.
fronts despair and pretends that every'
thing is quite all right. The girl,
looked at him with a choko in her
throat.
;■ "Wilfred,” she said, laying her hand
op his arm, “I’m not worth worrying
over. Really, I’m not. If Samson
''South proposed to me today, I know
that i I should refuse him. I am not
at all sure that I am the least little
bit in love with him. Only, don’t you
Bee 'I can’t be quite sure I’m not? It
would be horrible if we all made a
mistake. May I have till Christmas
jto make up my mind for all time? I’ll
tell you then, dear, if you • care to
...wait.”
CHAPTER XIII.
Tamarack Spicer sat on the top of
a box car, swinging his legs over the
side. He .was clad In overalls, and in
the poclcetp of his breeches reposed
a bulging flask of red liquor, and an
unbulging pay envelope. Tamarack
had been "railroading” for several
months this time. He had made
new record for sustained effort and
Industry, but now Juno was beckon
ing him to the mountains with vaga
bond yearnings for freedom and lei
sure. Many things had invited his soul.
Almost four years had passed since
'Samson had left the mountains, and
In four years a woman Can change her
mind. Sally might, when they met on
the road, greet him once more as kins
man and agree to forget his faulty
method of courtship. This time ho
would be more diplomatic. Yesterday
he had gone to the" boss and “called
for hiB time." Today he was paid off,
and a free lance.
as he reflected On thesq matters a
fellow-trainman came along tho top
of the car and sat down at Tamarack’s
side. This brakemnn had also been
recruited from the mountains, though
from another seatlon—over toward the
Virginia line.
“So yer qulttln’?” observed the new
comer.
Spicer nodded.
“Goln’ back thar on Misery?"
Again Tamarack answered with a
jerk of his head; .
“I’ve been layln’ off ter tell ye some
thin', Tam’rack.”
“Cut her loose.”
“I laid over in Hixon last week, an’
some fellerB that used ter know my
mother’s folks took me down in the
cellar of .Hollman's store, an’ give mo
some licker.”
"What of hit?”
“They was talkin’ 'bout you.’.’
“What did they say?”
“I seen that they was enemies of
yours, an’ they wasn’t in no good hu
mor, so, when they axed me ef 1
knowed ye, I ’lowed I didn’t know
nothin’- good about ye. I had ter cuss
ye out, or git in trouble mysolf.”
Tamarack cursed the whole Hollman
tribe, and his companion wont on;
"Jim Asberry was. thar. He ’lowed,
they'd found out thet you’d done shot
Purvy thet time, an’ he said”—the
brnkenmn paused to add emphasis to
his conclusion—"thet tho next time ye
come home, he 'lowed ter git ye plumb
short."
Tamarack scowled.
’ “Much obleeged,” ho replied.
At Hixon Tamarack Spicer strolled
along the street toward the court
house. He wished to be seen. So long
as it was broad daylight and ho dis
played,' no hostility, ho knew he was
safe—and he had plans.
Standing beforo the Hollman store
were Jim ■ Asborry nnd several com
panions. They greeted Tamarack af
fably and he paused to talk.
"Rl'dln* over ter Misery?" inquired
Asborry.
“ 'Lowed I mout ns well."
"Mind et 1 rides with ye es fur cs
Jesse's place?"
“Plumb glad ter have company,"
drawled Tamarack.
They chatted of many things, and
traveled slowly, but, when tlioy came
to those narrows where they could not
ride stirrup to stirrup each jockeyed
for the rear position, nnd tho man who
found himself forced into the lead
turned in his saddle nnd talked back
over bis shoulder, with wary, though
seemingly careless, eyes. Each knew
tho other was bent on his murder.
At Purvy’s gate Asberry waved fare-
woll and turned in. Tamarack rode
on, but shortly he hitched his .horse
In the concealment of a hollow, walled
with huge.qocks, and disappeared into
the laurel.
He began climbing, in a crouched
position, bringing each foot down
noiselessly and.pausing often to listen.
Jim Asberry had not been outwardly
armed when ho left Spicer. But, soon,
tho brakemnn's delicately attuned ears
caught a sound that made him He flat
in the lee of a great log, where he was
masked in clumps of flowering rho'
dodendron. Presently Asborry passed
him, also walking cautiously, but hur
riedly, and cradling a Winchester rifle
in the hollow of his arm. Then Tama
rack knew that Asberry was taking
this cut to head him off and waylay
him in the gorge a mile away by road
butm short distance only over the hill
Spicer held his heavy revolver cocked
in hiB hand, but It was too near tho
Pur.vy house to risk a shot. Ho waited
a moment, and then, rising, went on
noiselessly with n snarling grin, stalk
ing the man who was stalking him.
Asberry found a place at the foot
of a huge pine where the undergrowth
would cloak him. Twenty yordB below
ran the creek-bed road, returning from
its long horseshoe deviation. When
he had taken his. position his faded
butternut clothing matched the earth
as Inconspicuously as a quail matches
dead leaves, and-he settled himself to
wait. Slowly and with inflnlto cau
tion his intended victim stole down,
guarding each step, until he was in
short and certain range, but, instead
of being at the front, he came from
the back. He, also, lay flat on his
stomach and raised the already cocked
pistol. He steadied it in a two-banded
grip against a tree trunk and trained
It with deliberate care on a point to
tho left of the other mnn’s spine just
below the shoulder blades.
Then he pulled the trigger! He did
not go down to inspect his work. It
was not necessary. The Instantaneous
fashion with which the head of tho
ambuscader settled forward on Its
face told him all he wanted to know.
He slipped back to his horse, mounted
and rode fast to the house of Spicer
South, demanding asylum.
The next day came word that-if
Tamarack Spicer would surrender and
stand trial in a court dominated by
the Hollmans the truce would con
tinue. Otherwise the “war was on.”
Tho Souths flung back this message;
“Come and git him."
But Hollman and Purvy, hypocriti
cally clamoring for the sanctity of the
law, made' no effort to come and “git
him.” They knew that Spicer South's
house wub now a fortress, prepared for
siege. They knew that every trail
thither was picketed. Also, they knew
a better way. This time they had the
color of the law on their side. The
circuit judge, through the sheriff,
asked for troops and troops came.
Their tents dotted the river bank be
low the Hixon bridge. A detail un
der a white flag went out after Tama
rack Spicer. The militia captain In
command, who feared neither feudist
nor death, was courteously received.
He had brains, and he assured them
that he acted under orders which
could not bo disobeyed. Unless they
surrendered tho prisoner, gatllng guns
would follow. If necessary they would
bo dragged behind ox teams. Many
militiamen might be killed, but for
each of them the state had another.
If Spicer would surrender, the officer
would guarantee him personal protec
tion, and, if it. seemed necessary, a
change of venue would secure him
trial in another circuit For hours tho
clan deliberated. For the soldiers they
felt no enmity. For the young cap
tain they felt an instinctive liking.
He was a man.
Old Spicer South, restored to an
echo of hiB former robustnosB by tho
call of action, gave the clan’s verdict.
I’Hlt haln’t the co’te we're skeered
of. Ef this boy goes ter town he
won’t never git into no co'te. He’ll be
murdered.”
The officer held out hie hand.
“As man to man," he said, “I pledge
you my word that no one shall take
him except by process of law. I’m not
working for tho Hollmans or the Pur-
vys. I know their breed."
For a space old South looked into
the soldier’s eyes and the soldier
looked back.
“I’ll take yore handshake on thet
bargain,” said the mountaineer, grave
ly. "Tam’rack," he added, in a voice
of finality, "ye’ve got ter go.”
Tho officer lmd infant what no said.
He marchod his prisoner into Hixon
at the center of a hollow square, with
muskets at the ready. And yet, as tho
boy paRsed into the courthouse yard,
with a soldier rubbing elbows on each
side, a cleanly aimed shot soundod
from somewhere. The smokeless pow
der told no tale, and with l)luo shirts
and army hats circling him. Tamarack
full and died.
That afternoon one of Hollman's
henchmen \Vas found lying In the road
with his lifeless face In the water of
the creek.. Tho next day, as old Spicer
South stood at the door of his cabin,
a rifle barked from the hillside, and ho
fell, shot through the left shoulder by
a bullet intended 'for his heart. All
this while the troops were helplessly
camped at Hixon. They had power
and inclination to go out nnd get men,
but there was no man to get.
The Hollmans had used the soldiers
as far as they wUhed; they had mado
thorn pull the chestnuts out of tho
Are and Tamarack Spicer out of hiB
stronghold. They now refused to
swear out additional warrants.
A detail hnd rushed Into Hollman’s
store an instant after the shot which
killed Tamarack was fired. Except for
“Tam’rack, Ye’ve Got to Go."
a woman buying a card of buttons and
a fair-haired clerk waiting on her, they
found the building empty.
Back beyond, the hills were impene
trable, and answered no questions.
Old Spicer South would ten years
ago have put a bandage on his wound
and gone about his business, but now
he tossed under his patchwork quilt,
and Brother Spencer expressed grave
doubts for Ills ' recovery. With hiB
counsel unavailable Wile McCager, by
common consent, assumed something
like the powers of a regent and took
upon himself the duties to which Sam
son should have succeeded.
That a .Hollman should have beon
able to elude the pickets and penetrate
the heart of South territory to Spicer
South’s cabin was both astounding and
alarming. The war was on without
question now, and there must be coun
cil. Wile McCager had sent out a sum
mons for the family heads to meet
that afternoon at his mill. It was Sat
urday—“mill day”—and in accordance
with ancient custom the lanes would
bo more traveled than usual.
Those men who came by .the wagon
road afforded no unusual spectacle,
for behind each saddle sagged a sack
of grain. Tholr faces bore no stamp
of unwonted excitement, but every
man balanced a rifle across his pom
mel. None the loss, their purposo was
grim, and their talk when they had
gathered was to the point.
Old McCager, himself sorely, per
plexed, voiced the sentiment that the
others had been too courteous to ex
press. With Spicer South bed-rlddon
and Samson a renegade,. they had no
adequate leader. McCager was a solid
man of intrepid epurage and honesty,
but grinding grist was his vocation,
not strategy and tactics. The enemy-
had such masters of intrigue as Purvy
and Judge Hollman.
Then a lean sorrel mare came jog
ging into view, switching her fly-bitten
tall, and on tho mare's back, urging
him with a long, leafy BWitch, sat a
woman. Behind her sagged tho two
loaded ends of a corn sack. She was
lithe and slim, and her violet oyes
were profoundly serious, and her lips
were as resolutely set as Joan of Arc’B
might have been, for Sally Miller had
come only ostensibly to havo her corn
ground to meal. She had really come
to speak for the absent chief, and sho
knew that she would bo met with deri
sion. The years had sobered the girl,
but her beauty had increased, though
it was now a chastened type, which
gave her a strange and rather exalted
refinement of expression.
Wile McCager came to the mill door
as she rodo up and lifted the sack
from her horse.
“Howdy, Sally?" ho greeted.
"Tol’ablo, thank ye," said Sally. “I'm
goln’ tor got oft.”
As sho entered the great half-lighted
room, where the mill stones croaked
on their cumbersome shafts, the hum
of discussion sank to silence. Tho
girl nodded to the mountaineers gath
ered in conclave, thon, turning to the
miller, sho announced:
"I'm going to send for Samson."
The statement was at first met with
dead sllenco, then came a rumblo of
Indignant dissent, but for that the
girl was prepared, as sho was prepared
for the contemptuous laughter which
followed.
"I reckon if Samson wub here," sho
said, dryly, “you all wouldn't think It
was quite so tunny.”
Old Caleb Wiley spat through his
bristling beard, and hiB voice was a
quavering rumble.
“What wo wants is a man. We hain’t
got no use fer no traitors thet’s too al
mighty damn busy doin’ fancy work
ter stand by their kith an’ kin."
"That's a lie!” said the girl, »corn-
fully, "There’s just ono man living
that'B smart enough to match Josso
Purvy—an’ that ono man is Sam
son. Samson's got tho right to lbnd
tho Souths, nnd he's going to do it—of
ho wants to." .
"Sally," Wile McCager Bpokc, sooth
ingly, "don’t go feltttn’ nmd. Caleb
talks hasty. Wo knows yo used tor
bo Samson's gal, an' wo haln’t aimin'
ter hurt yoro feelln's. But Samson’s
done loft tho mountings. I reckon
of ho wanted ter come back, ho’d
a-come afore now. Lot him 'Stay wluir
he’s nt."
"Whnr is ho at?" demanded old Ca-
lob Wiley, in a truculent voice.
"That's his business,” Sally Unshed
hack, "but I know. AH I want to toll
you Is this. Don’t you mnko a move
till I havo time to get word to him. I
toll you, he's got to havo Ills say."
I reckon wo hntn’t a-goln’ ter wait,"
sneorod Caleb, "for a follor thot won’t
lot hit bo known whnr lie’s n-sojournln’
at. Ef ye air so shoro of him, why
won’t yet toll ub wlmr ho Is now?"
"That’s my business, too.” Sally’s
voice was resolute. “I’vo got a lettor
here—It'll take two days to got to
Samson. It’ll take him two or throo
days moro to get here. You’ve got to
wait a week."
“Sally,” the temporary chieftain
spoke still in a patient, humoring sort
of voice, as to a tempestuous child,
"thar haln’t no place tor mall a letter
nigber thon Hixon. No South can’t
ride Inter Hixon, an’ rido out again.
Tho mail carrier won’t bo down this
way for two days yit."
"I’m not askin’ any South to ride
into Hixon. I recollect another tlmo
whon Samson was tho only ono that
would do that,”, sho answered, still
scornfully. "I didn’t como here to ask
favors, l como to glvo orders—for
him. A train loaves soon in tho morn
ing. My letter’s goln’ on that train.”
“Who’s goln’ ter take hit ter town
fer ye?"
“I’m goln’ to take it for myself."
Her reply was, given, ns a matter of
course.
“That wouldn’t hardly. bo safe, Sal
ly,” tho miller demurred; "this haln’t
no timo fer a gal tor bo gnlavantin’
around by horself in the night timo.
Hit’s n-comln' up ter. storm, an’ yo’vo
got thirty milos ter rido, an’ thirty-livo
back tor yoro house."
“I’m not scared,” sho replied. "I’m
goln’ an 1 ' I’m warnin’ you now, If you
do anything that Samson don’t llko,
you’ll have to answer to him, when ho
comes." She turned, walking very
erect nnd dauntless to her sorrel mare,
and disappeared at a gallop.
I reckon," said Wile McCager,
breaking silence at last, "lilt don’t
make no great dlf’renco. He won’t
hardly come, nohow.” Then, he added:
But thet boy is smart."
could touch tho others? Don’t you
boo? I’ve only aeon It mysolf for a
little while." * i ,
“What Is it that—that you soe now?"
"I must go back, not to rolapBe, but
to come to bo u constructive force. 1
must carry some of the outside world
to Misery. I must take to them, be
cause I am ono of thorn, gifts that
they would reject from othor hands."
Front tho house canto tho strains of
an alluring waltz. For n ltttlo time
tlioy listened without speech, thon the
girl Bald vory gravely:
"You won’t—you won’t, atilt feel
bound; to .kill your enemies, will you,
Samson?”
Tho inan's faco hardened.
"I believe I'd rather not talk about
that. 1 shall havo to win book, tho
confidence I lmvo lost. ,1 shall havo to
take a place at tho head of m'y 'clan
by proving mysolf a man—and a man
by their own standards. It is only
at thoir head that I can load thorn.
It tho ltvos of a few assassins have to
bo forfeited I shan't hosltato at that.
I shall stake my own against thorn
fairly. Tho end Is worth it.”
The girl broathed deeply, then sho
heard Samson's volco again:
"Drennio, I want you to understand
that if 1 succeed it Is your buccobs.
You took mo raw and unfashlonod, and
you have made me. There Is no way
of thanking you."
"There is n wny," sho contradicted.
"You can tlmnk mo by feeling Just
that way about it."
"Then 1 do thank you."
The next afternoon Adrlenno and
SamBOii wore sitting with a gayly chat
tering group at tho side linos of tho
tennis courts.
When you go back to tho mourn
tains, SainsOn,” Wilfred was suggest
ing, "wo might form a partnership,
South, Horton & Co., Development of
Coal and Timber.’ There are millions
in it."
Five years ago I should have mol
you with a Winchester rifle." laughed
the Kcntucklnn. "Now I shall not.”
'I’ll go with you, Horton, and mnko
a sketch or two,” volunteered George
Leseott, who had Just then arrived
from tdwn. "And, by tho way, Sam
son, hcro’B a lettor that came for you
just as I loft tho studio."
Tho mountaineer took tho envelope
with a Hixon postmark, and for an
instant gnzed at it with a puzzled ex
pression. It was addressed in a foml
nine hand, which ho did not recognize
It was careful, but perfect, writing,
such as one sees in n school copybook.
With an apology ho tore tho covorlng
and read tho letter. Adrlenno, glanc
ing at his face, saw It suddenly palo
and grow ns sot nnd hard aa marblo,
Samson’s eyes wero dwelling with
only partial comprehension on tho
script. This is what ho rend:
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Samson’s return from Europe, aftor
n year'B study, was in tho nature of
a modernte triumph. With tho art
sponsorship of Georgo Leseott and tho
social sponsorship of Adrienne, ho
found that orders for portraits, from
those who could pay munificently,
seemed to seek him. He 'was tasting
the novelty of being lionized.
That summer Mrs. Leseott opened
her houso on Long Island early, and
tho life there was full of the sort of
gayety that comes to pleasant places
when young men in flannels and girls
in soft summery gowns and tanned
cheeks are playing wholesomely and
singing tunefully and making love—
not too seriously.
Samson, tremendously busy theso
days in a new studio of his own, had
run over for a week. Horton was, of
course, of the party, and George Les-
cott was doing the honors as host.
One evening Adrlenno left tho danc
ers for'the pergola, whore she took
refuge under a mass of honeysuckle
Samson South followed her. She
saw him coming, and smiled. She was
contrasting this Snmson, loosely clad
In flannels, with the Snmson sho. had
first soon rising awkwardly to greet
her in the studio.
“You should have stayed Inside and
made yourseir agreeable to tho girls,"
Adrienne reproved him, as ho came
up. “What’s the use of making a Hon
of you, if you won’t roar, for the vis
itors?”
“I’ve been roaring," laughed tho
man. "I’ve just been explaining to
Miss Willoughby that we only eat the
people we kill in Kentucky on certain
days of solemn observance and sacri
fice. I wanted to bo agreeable to you
Drennie, for a while.
“Do you ever And yourself homesick,
Samson, theso days?"
The man answered with a short
laugh. Thon his words came softly,
and not his own words, but those of
one more eloquent:
" ’Who hath desired the sea? Her ex
cellent Ionollncss rather
Than the forecourts of kings, and her
uttermost pits than the streets
where men gathor. , . .
His sea that his being fulfills?
So and no otherwise—so and ho other
wise hlllmen desire their bills.’,”
"And yet,” she said, nnd a trace of
the argumentative stolo into her voice,
“you haven’t gone back.”
"No.” There waa a note of self-
reproach in his voice. “But soon I
shall go. At least, for a timo. I’ve
been thinking a great deal lately about
■my fluttered folk and wild.’ I’m Just
beginning to understand my relation
to them, nnd my duty."
"Your duty is no moro "to go back-
there and throw away your life,", she
found horself instantly contending,
"than it is tho duty of tho young eagle,
who liaB learned to fly, to go back to
the nest where ho was hatched."
“But, Drennle," ho said, gently, "sup
pose tho young eaglo is the only one
that knows how to fly—and suppose he;
TAKE DISEASE FROM WHITES
Tuberculosis Among Alaskan. In
dians Has Been Laid at the Door
of the “Paleface.”
Tho great prevalence Of all forms
of tuberculosis among tho AlaBkan In
dians, as proved by a report by Dr.
Emil Kriillsh, is explained by the
Journal of-tho American Medical Asso
ciation ns follows:
“Tuberculosis 1 is a comparatively
new Infection among Indians, be
stowed upon them by tho benevolent
palcfaco along with drownter and cer
tain othor blessings . of civilization.
Among theso .'blessing!) must probably
be counted scarlet fevor, measles, In
fluenza, whooping cough and diphthe
ria. Not -yot possessing tho racial im
munity which it takes many genera
tions to acquire, the poor Indian suf
fers from them in greater degree than
does tho white, and more frequently
dies of them. Then there are the
overcrowding and the unsanitary com
ditfons prevailing in most of tho homes
of tuberculosis sufferers; while at
least tills much good arlBos from their
misfortuno that after the disease Is
well developed in them its progress
(unless -they nro well , cared for) is
rapid, and death removos what would
otherwise remain a menacing focus
of infection.”
Tuberculosis was one of the chlei
causes of the dying out of the In
dians all over. North America.
Two Famous Names.
“Thomas Atkins” is a newcomer
compared with “Jack Tar" of the senior
service. “Jack Tar" as a nickname for
a sailor Is first recorded in 1786, but
BallorB wero known as "tars" for more
than a hundred years before that. Tho
name already appenrs In litoraturo in
tho latter half of tho seventeenth cen
tury. "Tar" may bo short for “tar-
■paulin." Sailors wore called “tarpau
11ns” early in tho seventeenth' century.
Tarpaulin, of courso. Is canvas tarred
to malto It waterproof, and the sailors'
hat made of that material, something
like a sou’-wester, was called n tar
paulin. However that may bo, British
sallorB have beon “honest tars," “Jollj
tars” and “gallant tars" for 200 years.
There Is moro Btcol and oil about a
modern battleship than tarry rope,
perhaps, but probably Juck will remain
Jack Tar for another hundred year*
yet.':—Manchester Guardian.
Th®
P<fJon
QUffjd
—solved once
for all by Calumet.
For dally uso in millions of kitchens. lias
proved tlint Calumet is highest not only in
quality but In leavening power as well—un
failing in results—puro to tho extreme—nnd
wonderfully cconomioal in uso. Ask your'
grocer. And try Calumet next boko day.
Received Highest Awards
World’i Par.
Food Eipoiltiol,
Cblcuo, 111.
Pori, Eipoii- , _
tloo, Frooco, /.
Morel,
IS 12. //fi
Where..the. Life Is.
..Bacon—which Is the liveliest pro
vince in Canada?”
Egbort—Why, Ontario.
"Why so?”
"Because I read in the paper that
there are 1,002 chcosc factories there."
Undismayed.
"I understand that bread Is going
to cost six cents a loaf.”
"Well,” said tho man who refuses
to bo alarmed, "that's something to be
thankful for. They qould just as
easily havo mado It seven." . ..
Really Reliable. r”:
' “Is your maid trustworthy?" .
“Trustworthy? Why, L .even give
har tho koy to tho braid box!"
Cruel, Too.
“I’m saddest whon I sing,"
"You're a durn fool to sing, then.”—
Boston Evening Transcript.
r<r
A man's Inclination to give advice
Is strong In inverse ratio to hlsf fit
ness to give it.—Albany Journal.
It Isn't always tho promising young
man that fulfills tho pronilsc.—Dese
ret News.
First English Newspaper.
Tho first newspapor printed in the
English language, with Its old English
typo and Its quaint account of event*
In foreign countries, was a pamphlet
Issued In 1621. Its title, “Corrnnt or
Nevvcs from Italic, Germanic. France,
and other places," Is as curious ns Its
contents. For many years it lmd been
supposed that no copy of the' Corrani
was in existence, but recently a copj
of this Interesting document was di*
covered. ’ -
A pessimist is a person who is dis
appointed if the worst doesn’t hap
pen,—Albany Journal. , - . i j
A good listener is one who can pre
tend to bo deoply Interested wheh he
isn’t.
llom-st, now, clkl you ever see any
body take tho advice you offqrdd?—
Memphis. Commercial Appeal. , ■
Tho small hours are responsible for
many a large head.—Columbia State.
A model wifo is one who isn't pat
terned after a model. ;
■ Why don’t you take a' day bjf^ and
got acquainted with yoursolf?^ ! j
Tho pawnbroker acts ub timekeeper
for men who fight hard luck.
Your Undo Samuel spent ?s6ft,000.-
000 for jewelry last year. -.
Evo-lnventcd temptation, but'.forgot
to patent it.. . \
