Newspaper Page Text
A Bachelor’s Diary
Tennis and Golf by Night—An Autumn Fad 1
The Roses
By MAX.
. / J' Zf
A TRAGEDY IN RUSSIAN LIFE
A UGUST 30. (Being in the form
of a supposititious dialogue be
tween Sally Spencer and my
self She is away off in Paris, ab
sorbed in the vanities of this world,
and I am a helpless invalid, confined,
to a cottage in the northernmost
woods of this country, with much
time to reflect on the probabilities of
mv rewards or punishments in th?
next. The imaginary Sally is Kitting
in the little low rocker that swa> s
emptily with the wind, back an J
forth, on the porch beside me in that
tantalizlngly suggestive wav tha^
empty rockers have.)
SALLY: "I can stay only a short
ime. Max. I bad to wait a few min
utes in the Bon Marche for a fitting
and thought I would’make a mental
visit with you while waiting. How
are you, my dear? You look like a
mummy with all those blankets and
rugs around you. but not as sick as I
had expected Perhaps that prettv
nurse you have written so much about
is prolonging your illness with a
motive.”
MAX. “It is possible that the mo-
ive Is on my side”
It Stops.
SALLY: “You don’t mean to srv.
Max. that you have become such an
imbecile that you condemn yourself
to cushions and calomel and airbags
for the pleasure you get in having
some silly girl wipe your face and
hands and look solicitous when you
aigh, and comb your hair and tell you
what a fine-shaped head you have,
and hold your hands every time you
have an imaginary pain? Max, T am
ashamed of you!”
MAX: “You are losing your tact.
The right way to talk to a man when
he is sick is to call him a martyr and
a hero instead of an imbecile."
SALLY: “I suppose that’s the sort |
of soothing syrup that nurse hands t
you? I see it is time 1 came home!
from Paris and took you in charge.
How many, many times are you gi-
ine to make it necessary for me to j
save you from other v. gfnen?"
M AX “Save me forXvhom?”
tThe rocker, which had swayed I
rapidly when the Imaginary Sally wot
scolding me. stopped short. There is
a silence. Then it begins to sway
again, hut the Imaginary Bally has
turned her head so that T can not «°e
her face, and she changes the sub- i
ject when she begins talking.)
SALLY: “I suppose you know th-it
Jack is with me in Paris? That nseanj ,
1 have something more to do than to j
match ribbons and laces. The widow
is tfiere, too."
MAX: “You did not say for whoos
you want to save me?”
RALLY: "I am moat cordial wltjs
her. So cordial and so delighted when ;
I hear Jack is with her that he is
growing suspicious. He asked me thl*
morning when dressing for breakfast 1
if I was growing tired of him and
wanted to get rid of him.”
MAX: "Do you"”
SALLY: “I hope you will be satis
fied with the winter clothes I bought
for Manette. They ‘ost more tlmn
ever before, hut the child is no longer
h baby *o be confined to the company
of her nurse and governess, and must
dress better. You will laugh when I
tell you there is a party dress •**
MAX: “I don’t care what you
bought. 1 never care. It doesn’t in
terest me and never haa, and you
know' I never look at the hills. The
nurse aays ”
SALLY: "And 1 don’t care what
the nurse says, f think it very un
kind in you, Max, to quote that nurse 1
to me when I have such a short
time to stay. I have a good notion to
come back home and diHcharge her
You are able to travel now. and can
he taken home where Richards anil '
Tompkins and I can nurse you, or g* t j
a man nurse for that matter”
MAX: “I don't want a man nurse,
There would he none of that delight
ful senne of danger with a man nurse
Hnd I refuse to have one. Fancy me
getting lonely in the long hours of tin
night and calling for my nurse to
come and sit beside me and smooth
tny fnreherfTl and hold mv hand, and
having a great big. ugly, whiskered
man appear! I won't have it! I am
sick, and prick people always hav<
what they want, and 1 want my pre.
ty nurse. 1 think you are very self
lsh, Sally, to begrudge me the onH
coupensatlon Hckness affords a man
a prvmpathy that demands no chap,
eron."
(The rocker stopped swinging back
and forth The imaginary Sally ip i
looking away off into the woods, hut 1
fancy »he doesn’t see the royal color
of scarlet and gold the trees have put
on Perhaps ther« are tears in her
eyes, and the colors she see* seem
rain-draggled. She turns and when
she speaks again her voice is low , and
has a note of helplessness In it that j
distresses me.)
SALLY: "It is all a tangle, my lift
and Jack’s and yours. 1 have tried
so hard to he good, Mon hut with a
husband who strays after every new
petticoat, apd whom I can't love with- |
out compelling myself to love him. ;
and with the man I do love throwing i
himself away on a woman who can
never care for him a a I have cared i
for years--why, Max, I—I don’t know
w hat to do!"
(It la my turn to look at the trees!
without seeing their beauty It seems
to me now that all T «*iw was a little
narrow' path that wound In and out
among the gold-flecked shadows of
the woods, and that lost itself some
where In their depths. It would be
fine to take Sally by the hand and
lead her down that path and never
know Its ending! I am Interrupted
In my muslngs bv a sudden move
ment by Sally. She has r!f*en, and
has come to me, and has thrown her
arms around mv neck and is kissing
me In the manner o # which T have
often dreamed. Good men are good
also in their dreams. But hre there |
any ~ood men**
He Wonders.
HALLY: “I won't Rive yon up!
kept the widow from marrying you.
and I warn you I will keep the pretty
nurse from getting you if I have to go
to the limit I want you for myself.
I have wanted you for years Every
hour of the day and night I have
thought only of you, though every
one believed I was such a devoted
wife. I deceived even "ou! I haven’t
been good In ni'- thoughts, hut no
woman who doesn’t love her hunband
Is good In her thoughts. It is Impos
sible. Max! I don’t love my huoband,
and 1 do love you, and I know!"
A clock In Mrs. Allen’s dining room
strikes, and even when a woman is
making love to a man she can’t keep
a dressmaker waiting Evidently it
reminded my dream visitor of the
garment waiting n fitting In the Bon
Marche, for before it had ceased
striking the hour Sally was gone.
But I wonder if she Is that kind of
a Sally in her thoughts.
The tennis court and golf links at night.
ao longer are the willfully uuathletic to have the ex
cuse that they cannot play outside games because of the
pressure of business. Artificially lit lawn courts and a
golf links have come into being, as these photographs bear
witness. The courts and the “course” in question are at
the Woodbury Country Club, at Woodbury, N. J., and
were designed anil installed by Thomas J. J.i. i . ■ .. The
light is applied by the latest type of incandescent gas
lamps, which), it is claimed, are better for the purpose
than electric, lights. There are four lawn tennis courts.
The golf “course”—for putting only—is 80 feet long by
40 feet widoj, and has nine holes.
Poor Mrs. Craig .:.
IKS BELINDA dropped *tth *
tired sigh Into a seat on her own
porch and her brother Ben
frowned at her with disapproval
“I^ook here, young woman." he be
gan sternly, “how long are you going
to ke^o this thing up? First thing you
know I’ll have to send for a trained
nurse for you or at least pack you off
to a rest cure at safe distance from
the Hraigs ’’
"Nonsense, Ben, I’m all right. You
greatly exaggerate what I do for poor
Mrs. Craig ”
"Well, I don’t exaggerate when 1
tell you that you have passed forty-two
hours with poor Mrs. Craig in the last
week. I have kept time on you."
"How ridiculous to do that! I'd no
idea, though, that I’d been at the farm
so much. 6UI1. it would be simply
brutal not to do what I can for Mrs.
Craig when she is ill, and there’s no one
hut the boys to wait on her or do any
thing about the house. The boys are
very busy in the fields Just now. too."
"Why in the name of all that’s sensi
ble doesn’t she keep a girl?"
"1 think she would if she could find
one. Girls are scarce in this neighbor
hood."
"What’s the matter with that little
Molly Johnson you sometimes have to
help Norah? Why couldn’t she work for
Mrs Craig?"
"Well,” Miss Belinda laughed, "the
matter with Molly is that her eyes are
much too blue and her cheeks quite too
pink. Do you imagine Mrs Craig is
keen on offering that particular kind of
temptation to her bachelor sons?"
Not to Rest.
“It’s an outrage that she should de-
I*»nd upon her neighbors to take care
of her and run her house. 1 hope you’ll
have sense enough to stay at home this
afternoon and rest ”
"I shall stay at home "
"And rest?”
"Well, part of the time, perhaps; but
now I must make a cake."
"Why not let Norah make the cake*
If- she can’t we can easily go without
it."
"Oh. this cake isn't for us. To-mor
row is Jimmie Craig's birthday and poor
Mrs Craig is terribly disappointed be
cause she isn't able to make angel s food
for him. It seems that that great six-
footer, who looks as if he had never
tasted anything leas substantial than
pork and beans, quite dotes on angel’s
food."
"You little woolly lamb! So you
promised to make him one Why don't
vou crochet him a necktie, too?"
"In order to reinstate myself in your
good opinion let me tell you that I have
persuaded Mrs Craig to get a woman
with a cmld. who win be glad to have
a country home. I know there are
plenty of them and I’ve written to Fan
nie Drayton to find one through her
settlement work."
"That’s a good Idea. Be sure to order
one with dull eyes and sallow cheeks.
By the way. here’s a letter from Fannie
that came while you were gone.”
Miss Belinda’s face brightened as she
read the letter. "Fannie says she
knows a rood woman with a dear little
girl that she would love to bring up in
the country. Oh, Ren, Isn’t it splendid?
Fannie had been hunting for Just such
a chance for the widow and what a good
thing it will he to poor Mrs. Craig!
I must write Fannie to send her at
once."
"No, I’ll call her up on the long-dis
tance and ask her to send them out to
morrow "
ljtte the next afternoon Miss Belinda
and her brother drove to the station
and returned with a capable but snd-
looking mother and child After giving
them a comfortable anppar Mtss Be
linda conveyed them to the Craig farm,
where, through her offices, they were
expected.
Her Story.
“It will be a relief to know that poor
Mrs. Craig has some one to look after
her and the housekeeping," said Miss
Belinda that night.
But when the next day came the
woman and the child came also, with
the tidings that Mrs. Craig had sent
them away.
"There must he some misunderstand
ing.” sighed Miss Belinda. "You rest
here and I’ll run over to the farm and
have a talk with Mrs. Craig."
When she returned, looking discour
aged. her brother said. "Well, how
about it?”
"Ben. Just think of it! That woman
was actually willing to work for the
hoard of herself and the little girl, but
Mrs. Craig was vexed because she
washed out the child's one little frock
this morning She said she couldn’t af
ford to furnish laundry soap for the
child’s washing! When I remonstrated
against her losing good help for such
a small matter, she said, very blandly,
’With such a good neighbor as you.
Miss Belinda 1 don’t see that I really
need any hired help * "
“Well, I’ll be Jiggered! But hew about
our overhasty importation? What’s to
be done with the woman and child ?"
"They’re to stay here and build up on
country air and good food for a while,
and then I’ll try to find them a perma
nent home You don't mind their staying
here, do you. Ben?"
"Oh, no. But I must make one re
quest, Belinda, and that is that you
won’t talk to me any more about your
poor Mrs Craig "
Handsome Is-
"Why. haven’t I been good to you?
Ix>ok at the handsome engagement
ring I gave you.”
"Yes. I took it down to a pawnshop
the other day to see what I could get
on it, and he asked me what 1
wanted for it—marbles or skipping
rope.”
Leather chairs often become greasy
looking where the arms and head
rest on the leather. To remove these
marks try linseed oil. Boil half a
pint of oil and let It stand until
nearly cold, then pour in half a pint
of vinegar. Stir till it is well mixed,
and bottle, when It Is ready for use.
Put a few drops on a flannel and
polish with soft duster. This will
thoroughly renovate all leather.
Tn cases of emergency a kettle or
saucepan can he heated over a candle
by the following means: Stand two
chairs (with rungs) fairly near to
gether. Place a lighted candle on the
floor between the two. Then lay a
pair of flre-tongs across the runftn of
the two chairs and on the tongs place
a small kettle or saucepan Imme
diately over the candle. The water
does not take long to boil.
Flatirons become rusty if left in a
damp place or it put away flat when
warm. Rub them first with beeswax,
then with dry. coarse salt, using a
short, hard brush. When heating
irons it is wise to remove them from
a lighted gas-ring after a few min
utes have elapsed, and to wipe away
the tiny specks of moisture which
will he found to have formed.
To remove smoke-mark* from ceil
ings. mix a thick paste of starch and
water, and with a clean flannel spread
It over the mark. Allow' It to get
thoroughly dry. then brush off with
a soft brush and the marks will
have disappeared.
Before using table oilcloth, paste
at each comer on the w’rong side a
square of cotton. This prevents the
corners from wearing out as soon as
they otherwise' would.
To keep bread hoards a beautiful
color, rub them well with half a
lemon; then wash them in cold water,
and stand them in the wind or in the
sun to dry.
During hot weather small bags of
muslin filled with charcoal should he
hung In the pantry on either side of
the meat. This will keep it fresh in
the hottest weather.
When cooking liver and bacon get
a sour apple, slice it very finely, and
add It to the gravy. This will Im
part a delicious flavor, which Is a
great improvement.
To give potatoes a flavor add half
a teaspoonful of sugar, as well as
salt, when boiling. This does not
make them too sweet, but gives a
delicious flavor.
Tactful.
Kind words may he more than
coronets, and simple faith may heat
Norman blood to a frazzle; hut. after
all, tact is the possession most dear
and most useful to the human race.
Mr. Daniels thought so. too.
When he left the house he had left
Mrs. Daniels with a lady friend,
whose abilities as a scandal-monger
and mischief-maker are pre-eminent.
When he returned he Just poked his
head into the drawing room.
“That old cat gone. I suppose?" he
said, with a sigh of relief.
For Just an instant there was a
dreadful silence, for as he uttered the
la*t word he encountered the stony
glare of the lady who had been in his
mind. Then Mrs. Daniels spoke quite
calmly.
“The old cat?" she said. "Oh. yes.
dear. I sent It to the Cats’ Home in
a basket first thing this morning!"
His]
.ove A CHARMING SHORT STORY
I N the wild and inaccessible canyon
of the Tlmok River, which forms
the boundary line between Servia
and Bulgaria, lies a little mountain
hamlet, Vardak.
In days of old, while the Christian
Serbs were fighting their Turkish op
pressors. Vardak was the refuge of
hundreds from Turkish violence.
From this village they renewed their
fight with new vigor. Nowadays Var
dak is a peaceful village seldom vis
ited by strangers. The inhabitants
know little or nothing of the out
side world and many generations died
without knowing anything of the
great national movement which swept
the country. Even when the great
war of liberation set all Serbian
hearts aflame the storm of enthusi
asm hardly touched Vardak. Only
old Ljuba and three other men, armed
to the teeth, descended into the valley
to fight the arch enemy, but none of
them ever returned and after a few
years they were completely forgotten.
It was taken for granted that they
had lost their lives fighting the Turks,
for what Serbian peasant would not
have hurried pack to his houee and
hearth if he went through the war
unharmed ?
In this quiet, remote village.
Mia den grew up. When his father.
Ljuba, descended Into the valley to
fight the Turks he was still a baby,
and now when he had grown into a
tall and powerful young man, and
earned his living herding the cat
tle of the rich peasant. Arsen, did
nor remember a single feature of
his father’s. But when he looked at
the old rusty arms on the walls in
the miserable hut he had inherited
from his mother, or when he listened
to old blind Jezdirpir’s tales of the
feats of his ancestors, the cruelties
of the enemy and the desperate fights
he saw before his inner eye an Image
of father, as a tall, broad-shouldered
warrior, thirst ! ng for adventure and
revenge, and often while he was herd
ing his cattle near the river he
dreamed of himself fighting the Turks
and returning home as a hero cov
ered with glory. He saw Arsen run
ning to meet him. embracing him and
crying: "You are a brave fellow.
Mladen, and as a reward, lam happy
to accept you a» my daughter Millt-
za's husband."
Mladen loved Mllitza. though she
did not know it. How should Milltza.
the richest girl in the village, aboutJj
whom all the young men were fight- .|
ing., have suspected that her father’s!
humbled hireling dared raise his eye&j
to her”
His Secret.
Mladen kept the secret of his 1ot»p
to him.'elf. and did not even men titan
It to old Jezdimir.
Then the wonderful thing happen-wd.
One wintry day. when a terrible bliz
zard was raging In the mountains And
Vardak was entirely cut off from the
world, a etranger arrived in the vil
lage. He went straight to the /rich
Arson’s farm and said that he was
Sergeant Janko Viluttn, and that the
King of Belgrade had declared war
against Bulgaria and now calhfd all
men to the colors. Every man capable
of bearing arms must meet at Zijecar
within 24 hours.
This was the message of the King,
and when Mladen heard it his^ heart
began beating wildly and he began
to think of all the stories Jezdimir
had told him of wild, cruel-/looking
men swinging their bloody scimitars
and singing thofr rongs of war; but
when he heard 'that he was to fight
the Bulgarians., not the Turks, he
shook his head.. This seemed so un
natural. The Bulgarians living on
the other side otf the Timok were good
Christians, prating to the same saints
as the Serbs.
But, of course, the mighty King In
Belgrade musuknow what he is doing,
and it is not , for an ignorant peas
ant to trouble his brain trying tv»
understand his orders. The King had
Issued an ortfer, and all the men of
Vardak obeyed and hurried to get
ready for their departure.
He is Picked.
There weoe twenty young men al
together. and among these was
Mladen. TJhey were to leave for
Zizecar at dawn the next day. Many
a mother clasped her young son In
her arms#aaid many a young girl cried
until her^ejyesi were red at the thought
that she might never see her lover
again. bu|t nobody wept for Mladen.
for he ha i neither parents nor sweet
heart. Rut the rich Arsen supplied
him well, with provisions and Mllitza
shook liter hand cordially and present
ed him with a holy ikon of the Vir
gin. When she felt how his hand
trembled in hers she as*ked in sur
prise: "Why do you tremble so.
Mladery?"
But Mladen did not answer. He
let go/her hand, and silently and with
bowed] head he joined his comrades.
• * •
Two brother nations that only a
few 'pears previous had been sighing
under the same yoke were now at
war. a senseless war of foolish am-
bitioqi. Bloody battles were fought
at F/Uvetza. Zarlnrod and Pirot. The
Bulgarians were victorious and the
Ser*>s fled demoralized and in wild
disorder, an army of ragged and ex-
ha’trated crealures, thousands of whom
fm<nd their deaths in the blizzard in
th‘/» mountains near Pirot. When
night fell, the fate of the Serbs was
sealed.
'Among the thousands who re-
ir/ained on the battlefield was Mladen.
Ai shell had torn away his right leg
and the wheel of an ammunition cart
Rad crushed his chest. But Mladen
(fid not want to die. He felt no pain,
’put was warm and comfortable now
that the blizzard had stopped and the
/moon was making night almost as
{bright as day.
He raised his head and across his
pale lips came the sound of a name,
and she whose name he called bent
down over him with a tender smile,
and asked: “Why do you tremble.
Mladen ?"
And he told her why. for now he
f^lt as brave as never before:
"I love you, Milltza."
And she did not grow angry at all.
She smiled and looked at him kindl\
with her big blue eyes and he felt her
warm breath on his cheek. He could
not control himself any longer. H*
threw his arms passionately aroun
her neck. And while his hot, fever
ish hands caught hold of the frozen
grass. Mladen fell back into the snow
and with a happy smile on his lipe lie
gave up his young soul.
EXCURSION TO BIR
MINGHAM.
$2.50 round trip, Septem
ber 22. Special train leaves
Old Depot 8:30 a. m. SEA
BOARD.
A novel use of compressed air is
made by railway companies in the
Southern States of America. When
the loads of cotton are being taken
to the coast there is always danger
of their becoming damaged through
sparks from the locomotives. To pre
vent this, the locomotive boilers are
filled with compressed air. A train
load of several thousand bales of cot
ton can be hauled by these locomo
tives at a rate of twelve miles an
hour, although no fire is used in
working them.
Following the proposal for a tax
on bachelors in France, the societv
“La Race Francaise” suggests that
every male citizen who either has nu'.
three children alive or who has not
reared three children to the age of
21 should be taxed $5.50 a year for
each child below the number of three
This would apply to both bachelors
and married men. Such a tax, it is
estimated, would produce about $100,-
000,000 a year.
Doubtless the most unique spot in
Europe Is the little village of Alten-
berg, on whose border three coun
tries meet. It is ruled by no mon
arch. has no soldiers, no police, and
no taxes. Its inhabitants speak a
curious Jargon of French and Ger
man combined, and spend their days
in cultivating the land or' working
in the valuable calamine mine of
which the village boasts.
rpHK season of the rose sellers Is now
J at Us highest in the topsy-turvy
ancient City of Moscow, which, in
spite of it» stucco German buildings
aud miniature skyscrapers, still seems
| to recall the East at every corner of
Its tortuous streets.
Even the rose-sellers here are differ-
! ent from the pale-faced, tired-looking
men and women who ply the same trade
in the great cities of Western Europe.
Every morning when the dawn is Just
beginning to break, and the sun, like a
| great ball of fire, Is forcing Its way up
Into the silver-gray sky. they take their
stand—a ragged, barefooted band of
smiling urchins—on the new bridge be
side the Brest station.
This bridge is one of the finest struc
tures in Moscow At one end is the
Arc DeTriomphe, guarding the way to
the Tverskaia. the Piccadilly of Moscow.
At the other is the boulevard which
twines its way through the great
beeches and sycamores of the Petrovsky
Park, in which are situated Yar, Streil-
na, Mauretania and the other boisterous
pleasure gardens of Moscow nightlife.
The bridge is thus the boundary be
tween the prosaic, businesslike Teu
tonic Moscow of the daytime and the
extravagantly riotous, nocturnal Moscow
of the Slav. On its friendly parapet the
! little rose-sellers take their seats, dan-
| gllng their half-raked legs against the
! stone, singing snatches of Russian folk
songs, and waiting patiently for the re
turn of the belated pleasure-seekers to
their daily task.
Suddenly a “lekhatch"—a swift vic
toria with large rubber tires—or a motor
car. is heard afar off in the silent still
ness of the early morning. Some twelve
or thirteen ragamuffins spring from
their places and race to the middle of
the street. There is a quiet patter of
naked feet on the rough, jagged cob
bles. For a moment the little band
keeps t»ace with the passing vehicle.
The sellers jostle and push each other
in their eagerness, and with little re
gard for their own safety snatch a per
ilous foothold on the splashboard. And
all the while a fire of pleading requests
j is kept up Incessantly.
"Buy a rose, master!”
“Fresh roses, my lady? A double for
[ six.”
"See, master. I am hungry. I have
eaten nothing since yesterday morning.
Buy a rose radee Christa."
He Buys.
And if the fat, pleasure-sated man in
the carriage shows little sign of yield - •
ing to these entreaties, the tired painted !
woman by his side is more sympathetic
and compels her companion to open his
purse. Besides she wants the flowers.
They remind her of long-forgotten
days and of the many things that might
have been.
In this way does the little army exact
its toll from the passing stream of car
riages' and cars
Life is hard, and the bent, worn-out
mother, who, as a "tender" in the cot
ton mills, keeps the family alive on
4 the princely wage of thirteen rubles a
! month, has need of all the copecks her
! fourteen-year-old son can collect.
Rivalry is, therefore, keen in this
! children’s trade, but on the whole there
is no bullying, no jealousy, no 111 feel-
j ing. Occasionally, however, in the race
' for first place, “desire outruns perform
ance." and the movement of the thin,
bony legs is unable to keep pace with
the eagerness of the mind.
Motor cars are comparatively rare in
J Moscow, and the rose sellers have not
j yet learned to judge their deceptive
pace with the same nicety as their
London prototypes.
And so sometimes it happens that the
bridge is a silent witness of a little
tragedy. Suddenly there is a startled
shout of warning from the driver. The
car takes a wide swerve to the side.
A piercing shriek rings out in the cold
morning air
A sickening thud follows. The car
stops, while a policeman comes forward
with his notebook.
The little fellow Is taken into the car
and driven off to the nearest police
station. In a few minutes the street
resumes its normal appearance, and the
ragged little sellers return to their
"beat” on the bridge. They are sorry,
of course, as far as it lies in their
power to he sorry, but the battle for
bread knows no respite and the world
of pleasure must still be fed.
street. The neighbors gaze at her
lazily, curiously, and exchange guesses
as to the exact nature of the crime
Maria Vasilyevna has committed. At
the ouchastok she is ushered Into the
superintendent’s office. He has a harsh
voice, but he looks at her not unkindly
“See. little mother,” he says etam-
merlngly, while he shuffles on the floor
with his heavy topboots, "there has been
an accident."
She bows her head resignedly.
“It is my Pavel, is it not?”
The officer nods assent. He takes her
into another room and shows her the
poor, emaciated body with the white,
pinched face and the wide open, startled
eyes. The little hand is clenched tight
ly over a bunch of faded roses, as
though the instinct of self-preservation
so keenly developed amongst the very
poor had not left him even in death.
"Is that your son?" he asks.
Identified.
The answering "Yes” is swallowed
up In the muttering of a prayer. As
gently as he can the officer leads her
back into his office. The law must be
carried out, and the body has to he
identified. He shows her where to make
her mark in his hook, for she can not
write her name. For a moment she
stands with clasped hands, her eyes
fixed on the room which she has Just
left.
"Maye I take the roses with me?" she
asks pleadingly.
The reply is in the affirmative.
She goes back to the bare, cold mor
tuary. A bunch of faded roses Is lying
beside the corpse. Greedily, cunningly,
as though afraid that the officer might
change his mind, and without a thought
for the body beside her, she gathers up
the precious bundle. She counts them
over once, twice, lest there by any mis
take, then, with a quiet good-bye, she
takes her leave.
Once In her own home she puts the
flowers in water, but the faded petals
refuse to resume their appearance of
freshness.
"The devil takes them." she mutters
disgustedly. "They are not worth ten
copeck—not even on the Tverskaia."
She takes a needle and pricks the
long green stems in a last effort to re
vive them, but the flowers are as dead
as the child whom she has just left.
Clocks are now made to run five
years with once winding up. In 1881
the Belgian Government placed one
of these in a railway station and
sealed it. It has kept capital time,
having been six times wound—in 1886.
1891. 1896. 1901, 1905 and 1911: and
there is a clock in the Church of St.
Quentin, in Mayence, which has only
stopped once during a period of 500
years.
“Aladdin’s lamp, In good working
order, price 500,000 pounds.” is the
inscription on a card attached to a
curious-looking lamp exposed for sale
in the sihop-window of a Kingston
antique dealer.
A pen-nib is a little thing, yet there
is more «*teel used in the manufac
ture of nibs than in all the sword and
gun factories in the world. A ton
of steel produces about 1,500,000 pens.
The cost of the navies’ of the world
last year aggregated $725,000,000.
Figures compiled by the Depart
ment of Inland Revenue at Ottawa
show that the people of Canada la^r
year smoked 975,325,501 cigarettes,
an increase of nearly 200,000,000 over
the figures for 1911.
The Other Side.
In a little by-street across the river,
in the dirtiest part of the town, a frail,
shriveled-up little woman is busily en
gaged in cleaning out her room. She
swears gently to herself every few min
utes. The samovar has been ready for
over an hour and her brat of a boy
has not yet come home.
Most likely he has gone off with the
other lads to play pitch and toss. She
Is still meditating on the punishment
she will certainly mete 3ut to him,
when a knock at the door disturbs her,
and the great, gruff voice of the door
keeper rings out:
“Maria Vasilyevna! Maria Vasilyevna!
You are wanted at the police station at
once.”
A policeman pushes his way into the
room. VVonderingly she w*raps a shawl
about her head and totters out into the
Yet, though with a sense of grief
Comes with the falling leaf.
And memory makes the summer
doubly pleasant,
In all my autumn dreams
A future summer gleams.
Passing the fairest glories of the
present.
—George Arnold.
Let the sweet heavens endure.
Nor close and darken above me
Before I am quite, quite sure
That there is one to love me, J'
Then let come what may
To a life that has been so sad,
I shall have rriy day.
—From "Maud.**
When I sail to the Fortunate Islands
Over the violet sea.
May one friend, my heart’s friend.
Be there, a-sail with me.
On the breast of the deep, sweet waters,
In the arms of the white spray,
Sailing, sailing, sailing.
Till we come to Haven Bay.
In the peace of the Fortunate Islands,
By wood, and hill and shore.
May one friend, my soul’s friend,
Abide with me evermore.
—Louis McQuilland.
The world wants men, large-hearted,
manly men;
Men who shall join the chorus and
prolong
The psalm of labor and the psalm of
love. —Selected.
—LILIAN LATTFERTY.
Nothing In It.
“I regard conversation as a gift,*
remarked the studious wn-u^in.
“It usually is." replied ^iss Cay
enne. “If people had to pay for it
there would be much les* of it."
INDIGESTION?
Stop it quickly; 77your grocer send
you one qv- bottles of
SHIVA R
GINGER ALE
Drink with meals,
and if not prompt
ly relieved, get
your money back
at our expense.
Wholesome, deli
cious, refreshing.
Prenared with the
celebrated Shivar
Mineral Water and
the purest flavoring materials.
SHIVAR SPRING, Manufacturers
SHELTON, S. C.
K. L. ADAMS CO., Distributors. Atlanta,
A Weak Stomach ?
dL Have you indigestion or dys
pepsia, a torpid liver or any
other of the many ills com
ing from a weak stomach ?
DR. PIERCE'S
Golden ftfedicaj Discovery
for forty years has done a
“lion’s share” in eliminating
these distressing ailments.
Order a Bottle from
Your Druggist today
II
Agnes Scott College
The Session Will Open Wednesday,
September 17th, 10 o’Gock A. M.
The Committee on Admission of Students will
meet at the College Monday and Tuesday, 9 o’clock
to 12:30, for classification of new students.
All desiring to apply for admission to College urged
to meet the Committee Monday or Tuesday. Dor
mitories will not be open until Tuesday.