Newspaper Page Text
[ REMEMBRANCE, iyt
- ———— s
{ The happiest moment of my life? vy The eweetest sound I ever heard?
= Once, in a hush divine, + . Ab, rest from agony!
+ Her little ha#, like homing dove, j 9 . Ah, precious poignancy of life—
: Stole softly into mine. 4 I My first-born’s earliest cry!
i e Ajla —Harper’s Bazar,
SN D A s A
" A RUSSIAN JUDAS,
His eyes followed her till she dis
appeared through the doorway of the
brilliantly-lighted mansion, then he
turned slowly down the neatly grav
eled walk, and bitterly he cursed his
lot, :
Heretofore his mind had been so
bent on winning what was to him the
fairest flower of Peterhof, that he
had not paused.to consider his cir
cumstances. Now, to-night, when
he had won her, he suddenly awak
ened to the fact that he was far from
being in a position to claim the prize.
What was his paltry allowance as a
Cossack of the Imperial Bodyguard?
Could he ask her to leave the lavish
wealth and comfort of the great man
sion of one of Russia’'s aristocrats
to starve on his small salary? Never!
The very idea maddened him. And
yvet hope was there of much improve
ment in his circumstances?
She had exhorted him to be pa
tient, and hope for something to turn
up. She had reminded him that thé
government was liberal in rewarding
special services.
‘“‘Speciai services.” Ah, yes, why
not? Might he not be able to ferret
out something of value? He knew
the humor and policy of the govern
ment. He would keep his eyes open.
Weeks passed into months before
anything unusual occurred to give
Ratinoff the slightest chance to dis
tinguish himself. Then, one morning
he was delighted to find that he had
been intrusted with an important
commission to a distant province. He
accepted with a light heart. He saw
in this chance the touch of her pretty
little hand, and immediately he was
on his mettle.
Most of the way had to be made
by the use of relays of horses, for it
was through a part of the country
where railroads were almost un
known. All went well until the
return was being made, then the
spring rains set in, and for days it
poured almost continually. The mud
became dreadful. The roads in some
Pplaces were almost impassable, Rat
inoff fumed and stormed at the very
poor progress that was being made.;
He carried a bundle of important
papers which must reach St. Peters
‘burg- at the earliest moment;. -the
earlier, the more likely téxrvemlt,.ta-.{
vorably for the carrier. The stake
was.tremendous. It was not merely
the winning of favor with the gov
ernment; it wasn’t merely loyalty on
the fatherland; it was, indeed, to
him slmost life itself, for what was
life without the one dearer even than
life? '
Cruelly he urged the driver to
show ne mercy to the plunging
horses. But the driver was keen
witted and stubborn, and absolutely
refused to kill the horses; though
he left them half dead where each
fresh relay was secured. i
The rain continued, and the roadsl
became more boggy every moment.
“You tell me,” said Ratinoff to
the driver, “that there will only be
one more reiay of horses hefore we
reach the railroad?”
, ‘‘Just one’” was the reply.
~ “Then man, let me beg, in the'
name of God, that you put them
through for all they are worth for
the rest of the way. Don’t you really
think, now, that tris pair can safely
do a little better than that? It
won’t be very far now till they .are
relieved.”
Thus appealed to, the driver for |
the first time became a little reck
iless. He whipped up the horses, and
they plunged more wildly forward.
The road here was scarcely distin
guishable from the boggy morass
which flanked it. The mud and water
were everywhere. Even the skilled
driver was as yet unaware that they
'had really rea-hed the boggy ground.
(Ratinoff sat intently watching the
'struggling horses, with lips shut tight
in grim determination. The driver,
‘'with sidelong glances, was watching
him. He saw the terrible anxiety,
he saw cruel suffering when the |
horses showed signs of lagging. |
“Go on! Go on, boys!” he |
shouted, and again he plied :he whip.
The horses sprang forward, but
with the first jump the nigh horse
plunged desperately, paused, seemed
to settle back on his haunches, made
a last supreme effort, and then fell
forward in the mud.
“Th® morass!” shouted the driver,
as he leaped down into the mud, and
began hastily to unhitch the horses.
r The Cossack also jumped into the
mud without a moment’s hesitation,
and worked with a skill which almost
equaled the driver’s,
After a long, hard struggle, they
succeeded, by using ropes attached
to the traces of the free horse, in
drawing the poor beast up onto the
road again. But the mishap had al
most completely exhausted the al
ready tired animal, and progress
after that was exceedingly slow,
At last they did reach the station
where the fresh horses would be
ready for the last stage. Ratinoff
told the driver to get out the others. l
and he would unhiteh these
In a-moment the driver returned,
and his face was full of dismay.
“What's wrong?” asked Ratinoff
quickly.
‘““There is only one fresh horse.
The other one is completely used up
on one leg.”
‘““Can he not go on it at all?”
“No, he can't even stand on it.”’
“There is only one thing to do,”
said Ratinoff—cool in his despera
tion—*"bring out the good horse, and
put him in place of this night one,
and we’'ll do the best we can.”
“But it will kill that off horse to
take him on,” was the sulky reply.
“It can’t be helped; bring out that
horse.”
The cool determination of the Cos
sack won, and they were soon press
ing on. The rain came down in tor
rents. The road was often fiooded.
After a struggle of hours they
came in sight of the river. The driver
gasped, and went pale.
“The bridge!” he exclaimed. “The
bridge will be gone. The poor old
thing could never stand that. See
the torrent of water!”
“It’s there still! Yes, it's chere!”
shouted Ratinoff, as they rounded the
bend.
“The frame is still there, but the
planks will be gone, for the water
is over it. We can go no farther.”
‘““Nonsense, man, don’t say that;
we must go on. There might not be
one plank gone.”
“What’s that down there?” and
the driver pointed below.
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. ,
: OUR HIPPEN WEALTH. 3
: St e
3 We have been hearing a good deal lately of hidden wealth. Lor(x»:
3 Cromer, in a recent speech, gave curious examples of the Egyptian ¢
3 custom of hoarding. Over there a man buries his fortune in his garden: .
4 and—what is so wonderful to us—seems able, nevertheless, to sleep o *
3 nights. Our American cousins, in the stress of their present financial e
3 troubles, appear to have been doing something similar. They find their ¢
3 cupboard or their stocking a safer place than their banks. Hoarding is &
3 anold and a wide-spread habit. The traveler in Armenia, or any other &
4+ of the Turkish provinces, hears continually of hidden treasure. The ¢
$ people who own it dress poorly and live in mean houses. They know ¢
3 that the slightest hint of riches would bring on them the raider, or, e
3 still worse, the Government official, whose one idea of governing is &
4+ plunder. 2
3 And, indeed, most of the world’s wealth is hidden. We have only ¢
3 as yet scratched the surface of our property. If only our small free=iig
2 holder, on his fifty acres, knew all there was ‘beneath it, and how to get ?
¢ at it, every foot of his land might be more valuable than Lombard &
3 street. That is what makes prospecting the most fascinating of pur- e
3 suits. So marvelously stored is our planet that at any moment we §
$ may stumble upon Golconda. And what is more important here than %
4 the body’s march in search of treasure is the march of the mind, for we :
3 possess in proportion as we know. For untold ages savage tribes e
3 roamed the Western Continent, and were as poor at the end as at the 4
3 beginning. The white man, occupying for a century or two the same §
® space, by his science makes it the richest part of the globe. That is g}
3+ why we are as vet only at the beginnings of wealth. The mass of it lies
3 buried in the as yet unknown qualities of things. What do we know of ¢ 1
2 the possibilities of heat and light, of the water in the sea, of the wood of §
4+ the table we are writing on? Everywhere there are glimpses of un- T
3 tapped forces, of transformation of common things, more wonderful in ¢
3 their potentialities than the miracie of Aladdin’s lamp or of the philos- «
3 opher’s stone.—The Christian World. z
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‘““Well, that’s only one. There
might not be another gone.”
“Well, I'm not 'going to try to
find out, for.even if there were planks
enough to cross on, we couldn’'t do
it. The frame wouldn’'t stand the
strain. The water alone won’'t let
it live two minutes longer.”
Instantly the truth of this state
ment flashed upon the mind of Rat
incff,
“Say,” he whispered, ‘do you
think I could make it on foot?”
“It might just be possible, but only
a fool would try it. There is only
one chance in a hundred.”
Ratinoff sprang from the carriage,
and strapped the leather wallet
around his neck,
“Keep to the edge, and always
keep hold of the framework,” shout
ed the driver. ‘God-bye, and God
preserve you.” |
Ratinoff ran forward with one arm
around the side rail. The water was
up to his knees, and icy cold, but he
scarcely heeded. Deeper and deeper
got the water as he neared the cen
tre. Presently his foot dropped into
an opening, but his arm around the
railing saved him. TFor almost two
rods there was scarcely a plank
intact, and he worked slowly forward
on the frame-work. The water was |
rising every moment. He feared
the crash would overtake him, and
he hurried forward. The water was
above his waist. He was within two
rods of the end when he heard a
crash behind, and felt a swinging
motion begin. He thought of letting
go the frame and making a wild dash,
but he dared not. He struggled on,
his eye ever on the end of the frame
work, which he expected every mo
ment to break from its fastening on
the shore. The dusk of evening was
quickly settling, and his eyes were
full of spray, but yet he clearly sawl
the quivering timbers wrench them- |
selves free. He let go, and ran wild-!
ly forward. Already it had left the |
shore. He jumped as best he could
in the boisterous waters. He struck
bottom in water which almost
reached to his shoulders. He :stag-l
gered up the bank and reached the |
solid ground, only to find himself
utterly exhausted. An icy numb
ness was stealing over him, He saw
a light in a cottage some dlstance
ahead, and shouted wildly. The next.
instant he was lying in the mud,
completely unconscious.
When at last his eyes opened he
stared in a dazed sort of way at the
ceiling of the rough cottage, and at
the peasants who were bending over
him. In a moment he remembered
and nervously felt for the wallet
which was lying by his side.
“It's all right, sir,” remarked the
owner of the cotiage. ‘“We haven't.
touched it at all.”
The Cossack, thus assured, heaved
a sigh of relief, and soon dropped
off to sleep.
When next he awoke it was with
the sound of voices in his ears. He
listened without so much as opening
his eyes or moving a muscle. :
- “Yes, but it must be clearly under
stood .from the first that there is to
be no meddling with means which are
violent or unlawful. Grievances
against our government we certainly
have, and I am quite willing that we
shall meet here in a neighborly way
to talk about them, but it must be
distinctly understood that no hothead
will be allowed to speak rash and
violent words which can only result
in harm.”
Ratinoff knew it to be the voice of
his host.
“That’s right. That's right,” was
the murmured assent.
“What luck! This is your chance,
your chance,” whispered the evil one
in Ratinoff's ear. ‘“You know they
will liberally reward ‘special service.’
Your commission is a very ordinary
service, but this will be special. It
will pay well. Then you can elaim
her.”
_ But all the man in him rebelled
against the thought. Betray his host,
to whom he owed his life and the
safety of his papers? Never!
“But it's only business,” came the
evil whisper. ‘“‘Every man must look
out for himself. You'll never be able
to claim her if you don’'t do some
thing of this kind. They may not be
exactly traitors in heart yet, but they
soon will be if they hold these meet
ings, and they are traitors now in the
eyes of the Government.”
* * * * * *® *
Two weeks later a band of Cos
sacks made a raid on the little cot-
' tage down by the river. Four men
I were secured. b
i ‘‘Have we the right one?” demand
ed the captain.
| “'Yes, that is he on your left?
came the answer from the group of
Cossacks. :
The old man knew the voice, and
turned his eyes in blank amazement
upon the man he had rescued two
weeks before. In speechless con
tempt he stared for some moments,
then he quietly turned and kissed
his wife and little ones good-bye.
And he knew it was for the last time,
After some weeks there was an
other big batch of criminals being
transported to Siberia, that ghastly
graveyard of the living dead, and the
mother and her little ones in the lone
ly cottage by the river clung wildly to
one another, and mingled their tears
of bitterness and loss, when they
looked over the list of names.
» * * * * * ® 3
Weeks passed. And another item
of news found its way to the desolate
little cottage. :
There had been a great wedding
in Peterhof, Ratinoff, a Cossack of
the Imperiai Bodyguard, was the
bridegroom. Because of recent spe
cial services rendered in the cause of
the fatherland, the Government
thought fit to donate a substantial
wedding gift—it consisted of a purse
of twenty-five roubles and a pension
for life. g
The lonely mother listened in si
lence, and her face was hard and
drawn as she gazed on the wasted
forms of her little ones, whose faces
were pinched with hunger and blue
with the cold. |
At last she broke the gnawing si
lence, but her words were few and
very, very bitter. She said only:
“And Judas got only twenty-five gel
ders.” 1
This is not a mere story. It ig
based on facts—hard, cold facts, |
And yet Russia wonders why her
people are so restless and so discon-i
tented with the Government, Poor
Russia!—Christian Guardian, § A
Siam is the land of temples. New
ones are constantly being built and
tie old ones rarely repaired. l
J Good Roads. §
" '
LA Care of Earth Roads,
_ While American road builders are
as capable of constructing good roads
a 8 those of any country of the Old
World, they have not been as loyally
‘Supported as the men of those coun
tries in maintaining the highways af
ter completion, and the deplorable
state of many hundred thousand
miles of road is thus accounted for.
County and township officials may at
the outset stand the expense of hav
ing a road built, but they strenuously
Object when asked to provide funds
to rebuild the road that has been al
lowed to go to ruin.
It is important that farmers learn
of the Dbenefits to be derived from
good earth roads; that county boards
be impressed with the need of a pro
per maintenance of the same, and
that road builders and overseers
learn how best to care for the roads
in their charge.
The persistent and powerful ene
mies of earth roads are water and
narrow tires, and the constant effort
of the men in charge of the roads
should be to guard against cheir de
structive effects and remedy all dam
age as quickly as possible. The sim
ple implements which have been found
to be of greatest assistance in this
work are the plow, the drag-scraper,
the' wheel-scraper, the road-grader
and the split-log drag."
With a sandy soil and a subsoil of
clay, or clay and gravel, deep plow
ing so as to raise and mix the clay
with the surface soil and sand will
prove beneficial. The combination
forms a sand-clay road at a trifling
expense,
On the other hand, if the road be
entirely of sand a mistake will be
made if it is plowed unless clay can
‘be added. Such ; :ng would mere
1y deepen the san., and at the same
time break up the small amount of
hard surface material which may
have formed. If the subsoil is clay
and the surface scant in sand or gra
vel, plowing should not be resorted
to, as it would result in a clay sur
face rather than one of sand or gra
vel.
A road foreman must know Ht
only what to plow and what not to
plow, but how and when to plow. If
the road is of the kind which accord
ing to the above instructions should
be plowed over its entire width the
best method is to run the first furrow
in the middle of the road and work
out to the sides, thus forming a
crown. Results from such plowing
are greatest in .the spring or early
summer,
In ditches a plow can be used to
good advantage, but should be fol
lowed by a scraper or grader. To
make wlde, deep ditches nothing bet
ter than the ordinary drag-scraper
has yet been devised. For hauls un
der 100 *feet, or in making “fills” it
is especially serviceable. It is a mis-
Aake, however, to attempt to handle
long-haul material with this scraper,
“as the wheel scraper is better adapted
to such work. For hauls of more
than 800 feet a wagon should be
used. E 7
| The machine most generally used
in road work is the grader or road
!'-u;achine. This machine is especially
- useful in smoothing and crowning
' the road and in opening ditches. A
_clay subsoil under a thin coating of
_soil should not be disturbed with a
grader. It is also a mistake to use a
grader indiscriminately and to pull
~material from ditches upon a sand
clay road.
Not infrequently turf, soil and slit
from ditch bottoms are piled in the
middle of the road in a ridge, making
mudholes a certainty. It is impor
tant in using a grader to avoid build
ing up the road too much 2t one
time. A road gradually built up by
frequent use of the grader will last
better than if completed at one oper
ation.
The split log drag should be used
to fill in ruts and smooth the road
“when not too badly washed —TFrom
United States Burcau of Public
Roads.
Road Building in the Country.
“Don’t you people ever work the
roads in this section?” asked the au
tomobilist, as he pried the rear wheel
of his machine out of a rut with a
fence rail.
“Work ’em? Wall, I should say
we do,” answered Unele Charlie Sea
ver from the top rail of the fence.
“Why, we work these roads on the
assessment plan; none of thet money
gystem for us fellers. Every farm is
aspessed so many days’ work on th'
highway, an’ after the farm work is
all done an’ we ain’t nuthin’ else ter
do we all turn out, thirty or forty o’
us, with plows, horses, picks, shovels
an’ hoes to work th’ roads. I tell
you it’s a picnic. Work? Why, they
make the dirt fly until they get tired.
Then we find some shady spot to rest,
eat our lunch, drink some cider,
smoke an' maby play a game or two
of seven up. An’ we call it a day.” -
New York Press.
A Red-Eyed Chicken,
Mr. George Ladenburger has a
sure-enough curiosity in ‘the posses
slon of a red-eyed chicken,
It 1s not the eyelids that are red,
as might be inferred, but the eyes
themselves, The eyeballs are not
bloodshot or ‘inflamed, but are of a
brilliant crystal red, while the sights
are also red, but of a darker hue. So
transparent are the eyes that when
the head of the chicken is held be
tween your vision and the gun it ap
pears as if the sun were sbining
through from one eyve to the other
and the head lighted up ‘ugide,—
Dover (Ky.) News.
TEN BILLION OF NEWSPAFERS
That Was the Estimated Circulatiop
For the Year 1907.
Facts relating to newspapers and
newspaper growth are presented in
the current issue of Appleton’s Maga
zine in an article on ‘‘The Newspaper
As It Is,” written by General Charles
H. Taylor, of the Boston Globe. *
“Statistics of American newspa
pers, giving the number in each
State,” says General Taylor, ‘“were
first compiled in- 1810, when there
was a total of 366 papers of all kinds
in the country. Of these only 25
were dailies, 36 were semi-weeklies,
15 tri-weeklies and 290 were week
lies. Of the 25 dailies 6 were pub
lished in New York, only one of
which, the KEvening Post, survives
under its original title. The lotest
available figures show that there were
in the United States in 1907 a total
of 21,635 newspapers, reviews and
such, of which 2415 were dailies, 16,-
288 weeklies, 2655 monthlies and
177 quarterlies.”
Other striking figures are those of
total newspaper circulation. In 1900
this was 8,168,148,749. These fig
ures showed an increase over 1890 of
74.5 per cent., while the increase be
tween 1880 and 1890 was 126.4 per
cent. Basing his conclusions upon
these figures General Taylor esti
mates that the total circulation of
the newspapers of the country in
1907 was not less than ten billion
copies, while he places the income
from sales and advertising at $200,-
000,000,
Of the advance of the newspaper
as a néws conveying agent, General
Taylor says that there never was a
time when a newspaper reader got so
much for his money as now, and he
illustrates the point by recalling that
in 1851 when America won the cup
that has since become so famous, the
New York and Boston papers printed
only from 250 to 300 words about the
event, and this a fortnight after it oc
curred, while at the present time the
papers in these cities devote two or
three pages to a cup race.
Similarly, in 1861, one telegraph
operator sent out all the press mat
ter from the convention that nomin
ated Lincoln, while at the present
time a single company will have over
100 operators employed at a national
convention.
“Our papers are what the people
make them,” says General Taylor,
speaking of the quality of the matter
presented. ‘‘The public decides what
it wishes to read; the editors and
publishers, trained in their business,
gather their raw material and work
it into the finished product, news, to
meet the demand. Controllers of
newspapers -are often eriticised for
what they print.
“Journalists have a much heavier
responsibility than any other business
man. The idle, the self-seeking, the
~untruthful, the vieious, beguile them
at every hand, to use the powerful
engine of the press to carry them a
little way along their chosen road.
The editor must watch unceasingly
for these unwelcome passengers and
eject them on sight. He appreciates
the responsibility of his trust. He
reaches his ideal as nearly as he can,
and does far more for the morals of
the community than he is usually
given credit for.”
’ IN CITY BACK YARD.
Space to Be Utilized For Purpose of
Tobacco Growing.
A number of large land owners,
whose homes are in the city, have
planted tobacco beds in the gardens
~and back yards of their residences
~in this city, and will therefore be
- ready to plant tobacco when the time
comes if the State can give them the
protection. For obvious reasons the
persons who are said to have planted
such tobacco beds are anxious that
their action shall be kept secret, and,
it is understood, have enjoined upon
their friends and other visitors to
their houses not to speak of what
they have done, as even with the pro
tection of the police force of a large
city their premises might not be gafe
from depredations, and the stock
and buildings on their farms in the
country would be open to attack
from night riders.
Notwithstanding these precautions,
it is strongly believed here that such
beds have been planted in the city
and that the clouds of smoke which
have hung over the back premises of
a number of city residences have
come from burning brush over tobac
co beds and not from the ordinary
preparations for planting a garden.
On account of cutting out the tobac
co crop a large crop of hemp will
probably be raised in the blue grass
region this year, although on ac
eount of the scarcity of good seed
the erop of hemp will not he so large
as it would if the sgeed were more
plentiful.-—Louisville Courier-Jour
nal, |
o — . e et I
Sereens For Crushing Tin Ores, !
In Cornwall experience shows that |
woven wire screens in the stamps |
which crush tin ores are better than |
punched plates. ’
Skat, which has become the rival f
of bridge, and has displaced it in |
some circles, is a purely German |
game and Altenburg is its home. |
The earliest records on the subject |
show that it was evolved out of other |
card games in 1817 by one Hempel, '
a professor at the Altenburg College. |
Canada waters vielded last year ‘
about 20,000,000 lohsters, half oti
which were canned. |
¢ ”’3‘-'!-_‘-.;’; PR AT R
m he Ivony. ellsw;
PPN FANT
PN y]
S . ""/’
Over the Teacups. g
“There’s no use talking—" said my wife.
I ceased to eat my food,
Beside my plate laid fork and knife,
Struck iiatening attitude,
Sought, mentally, at least, to con :
I\gan’s meagre lingual power,
‘ While she—went on, andp on, and on,
And talked for half an hour!
—Roy Farrell Greene, in Puck,
Had a Great Fall,
“What happened to Humpty Dump-
Ty
“He bought stocks on a marzin,”
—Life.
Because of the Gallery.
“I am going to play Hamlet—""
“Good! That's art.”
“For one night only.”
“Ah, that's judgment.”—Kansag
| City Journal.
Great Concessions From Him.
“They seem to live happily to
gether.”
“Yes; he lets his wife select his
neckties and his stenographers.”—
Nashville American.
'Possibly Not.
Peggy—‘Was that p'liceman ever
a little baby, mother?”
Mother—*“Why, yes, dear.”
Peggy (thoughtfully)—“l don't
belleve I've ever seen a baby p'lice
man!"”—Punch. g
With a Proviso.
“Is it good form to have your
name in the papers?’” asked the so
cial novice.
“Oh, yes,” answered Miss Cayenne;
“provided you don’t get it in display
} type.”—Washington Star.
Mathematical,
‘“Are you going to make an ex
ample of that grafter?”’ said one
statesman,
‘‘He's worse than an example
now,”” answered the other. ‘“He's a
problem.”—Washington Star. g
ik £y
Means No. 1
“A woman's ‘no’ means ‘yes.’’
“You think so?”
“I know so. Don't you?”
“No; I am all over that illusion. I
am married.”’—Nashville American.
You Have to Count 'Em.
“Ah, kind friend,” said the minis
ter, *“it is deeds, not words, that
count.” :
“Oh, I don't know,” replied thea
woman, ‘‘did you ever send a telee
gram ?”—Detroit Free Press. ]
Wife's Winsome Wish. :
Hubby (while dressing)—‘That
confounded trial balance was running
in my head all night.” G
-~ Wifey—*"John, you must tell the
manager and maybe he will give you
extra pay for working overtime.”—
Boston Transcript, /
Hard to Say.
Friend of the Family—*‘‘Well, Bob
by, how i 8 your sister progressing in
her piano playing? lls she improve
| ing?" .
} Bobby—‘‘l guess she's either ime
| proving or we're getting uged to it.
| I don’t Kknow which.”—Brooklyn
| Life.
|oe s 1
1' Something Doing.
’ Tess—*‘l actually believe some
| man 1s calling on Miss Passay.”
. Jess—'The idea! What makes
- you think so?”
Tess—''l notice that instead of
fastening her hair with ordinary pins,
as she used to, she’s now using safety
pins.”’—Philadelphia Press,
Let Us Hope So.
“William,” she said, “means good,
James means beloved. I wonder—''
A flush mantled her cheek.
“I wonder,” she softly murmured,
“‘what George means?”
“George means business, I hope,”
said mother, looking up from the
Easter wedding announcements in the
evening paper.—Philadelphia Bulle
tin,
Arithmetic Was Correct, Anyhow,
“And have you any brothers and
sisters, my little man?” asked the
kind old lady,
“Yes'm,” replied the little man;
“I got one sister and one and a half
brothers.”
“What?"
“Yes, ma'am; two half-sisters and
three half-brothers,” —Philadelphia
Press.
Near a Bad Bargain,
The agent of the titled wooar
found that the ambitious American
girl had only $150,000 a year,
Of course he advised his principal
to withdraw.
“But,” insisted the latter, “I could
scrape along on $150,000 a year.”
“Possibly, but who'd support your
wife?"
Even lpve could put forth no argu
ment against this.—Philadelphia
Ledger,
One at a Time,
“I'm thinking of running for Con
gress,” sald the village lawyer. “Will
you vote for me?”’
‘*No, sir,” answered Farmer Corn- .
tossel, “I'm in favor of lettin’ the
present Congressmen’ stay where
they are. There’s no good of cone
tinually takin’ men and gettin’ 'em’
out of the habit of hard work an’
then bringin' 'em back home ag'in.”
~Washingtcn Star, F i
