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SUNDAY MORNING.
I believe if I were dead,
And you should kiss my eyelids where I
we,
Cold, dead and dumb to all the world
contains,
'y ou /d open at thy breath.
Ana, from its exile in the Isie of Death,
ljile would come gladly bisck along mv
veins.
I believe if I were dead.
And you upon iny lifeless heart should
tread—
Not knowing what the poor clod chanced
to be—
&?ouM sudden pulse beneath the touch
Ur him it ever loved in life so much.
And throb again, warm, tender, true to
thee.
I believe if in my grave.
Hidden in woody depths by all the waves,
lour eyes should drop some warm tears
of regret,
From every salty seed of your deep grief,
•..ome lair, sweet, blossom would leap into
leaf
To prove that death could not make my'
love forget.
"■ 'V
TOD .TENKS of Tumbling Forks
hud got religion. The other
citizens of tlie Forks couldn’t
account for it, but they said
there wasn't any question about it, and
that Tod had It good and hard, and was
probably pious for keeps. Tod was the
only religionist in the Forks. There
were-Methodists over at the Ford, and
a colony of Baptists down at Deep
Water, which latter thing, the neigh
bors said, was in keeping with the
eternal fitness of things. Tod had got
his religion from the Evangelists while
he was on a visit to Ham’s Station on
the Black Stone.
Prior to Tod’s conversion he had bet n
about as tough as they make them,
nud, as his wickedness had struck
deep, so had his piety. Tumbling Forks
admired Tod's evident sincerity and
allowed that he had a perfect right to
make a fool of himself if he wanted
to. That was Tumbling Forks’ way
of looking at the matter. Tod was a
fiddler. He used to scrape out all
kind of things, and in the past the in
habitants of the place shook their feet
weekly to tlie strains from his bow.
*l3an Tucker” and “Money Musk” were
never heard now, and from Tod's cabin
nigbtly, and daily, too, for that matter,
came “Wandering Boy,” “Sweet Hour
IS \ SECOND IHE FOUND THE
Of Prayer,” “There Is a Fountain” and
a lot more like them.
Tod used to sing, too, and his voice
wasn’t half bad. The Tumbling Forks
people said Tod was the best singer
in the section. They gathered round
nightly now, but in n sort of a shame
faced way, and at a respectful dis
tance, while he was lifting up his
voice inside his cabin and pealing out
"Hold the Fort” and “Sinners Turn.
Why Will Ye Die?”" with a heartfelt
enthusiasm.
One day Tod was sitting in his door
way scraping his fiddle, while the Ten
nessee sun threw maple leaf shadows
all about him. Tod was trying some
thing new that morning. He had
beard it in a little Episcopal mission
that he had wandered into one day
when the Christian church wag closed.
He had caught the tune only halting
ly, but he more than knew the words,
for he felt them. Somehow be thought
they were better than any of the other
things that be had learned. The red
bird (topped whistling in the beds
LOVE'S BELIEF,
I believe if I should fade
Into the mystic realms where light is
made,
And you should long once more my face
to see,
I would come forth upon the hills of night
And gather stars like fagots, till thy
sight,
, Led by the beaoon blaze, fell full on me.
1 believe my love for thee
(Strong as my life) so nobly placed to be,
It could as soon expect to see the sun
Fall like a dead king from his heights sub
lime,
His glory stricken from the throne of
time,
As thee unworth the worship thou hast
won.
I believe, love, pure :nd true.
Is to the soul a sweet, immortal dew
That gems life's petals in the hour of
dusk:
The waiting angels, see and recognize
The rich crown jewel Love of Paradise,
When life falls from us like a withered
husk.
—By Mary Ashley Townsend.
as Tod struck the tune with his bow
and began singing:
“Art thou weary, art thou languid.
Art thou sore distress'd?
‘Conte to Me.’ saitli One, 'and eoming.
Be at rest.”
Tod heard a movement beyond the
hedge where the red bird had been
whistling. He looked quickly, and
through the interlacing twigs lie saw a
woman. She was hurrying away in
a sort of lmif-guilty fashion. Tod
knew who it was. It was Jenny Trav
ers. Jenny had beet* one of the pret
tiest girls In the Forks ten years be
fore. A young fellow, tall good-look
ing and with a tongue that could talk
to women bad come front beyond the
mountains. Jenny had listened to him
when she wouldn't listen to the young
fellows at the Forks, with whom she
had been brought up. One night Jenny
had gone away, and the man from be
yond tlie mountain went at the same
time. Two years later tlie girl came
back. Her old father took her in. The
Tumbling Forks folk found out tiiat
though she carried in her arms a baity
boy, she was a deserted wife. Of tlie
man from beyond the mountains none
of them ever heard again.
The men didn't mean to be unkind.
The women put them up to it. They
didn’t speak much to Jenny, and when
she saw the disinclination she spoke to
none. Of course, no woman spoke to
her. That wasn't to tie expected, but
some were much worse than others.
Jenny's child was now eight years old,
and lie went to the crossroads school
and played with the other boys, that
is, lie played with all but one of them.
Mary Garth's little boy was under or
ders not to speak u> Billy Travers,
lie had been taugliT the value of a
sneer by Ills mother, who, before she
married Hod Garth and before Jenny
had gone away with the man from be
yond tlie mountain, had been Jenny’s
girlhood chum. Tumbling Forks peo
ple sometimes said under the breath
that Mary had set some store by Jen
ny’s lover, and that was the reason
why she was so bitter now.
The next day Tod Jenks played his
fiddle In the-sun shine again. Tod went
through the Episcopal hymn. He knew
he had a listener. No movement until
his voice and violin had rounded out
the verse:
If I ask Him to receive me.
Will He say me nay?
Not till earth and not till heaven
Pass away.
Then a woman came half-shrinking
ly through the gate and advanced to
the doorway.
“Is that true. Tod,” she said, tim
idly.
“Sure it’s true, Jenny,” said Tod
gently, “though it took me seventy
years to find it out.”
“I’ve beard you singiDg lots, Tod, and
THE BRUNSWICK DAILY NEWS.
I like IL It seems as though I’d like
to have a friend who'd receive me as
the hymn has it. Sometimes I get
most crazy. There ain't many friends
livin’ around Tumbling Forks. It's a
good many years Tod, and I’ve lived
with old clad. He’s good and under
stands. I didn't have anything here;
it was empty-like,” and the woman put
her hand on her heart, "but now since
I’ve been hearing that hymn there’s
something in here. I don't know just
what it is, but 1 don’t feel as hard
toward people as I did.”
Tod’s eyes glistened a little. He took
a hook and read softly for some little
time.
“Must I do that to have Him receive
me?” said Jenny. “Must I forgive ah
my enemies? Must I forgive Marne
Garth?”
“Yes, even Manic Garth,” answered
Tod. “It’s written as plain as day,
’Bless them as persecutes you.’ ”
The woman rose with a flaming color
in her cheeks. “I can't do that,” she
said, and her eyes flashed and her
hands were clinched. She went through
the gateway with rapid tcps, her head
thrown back and her hands still
clinched. Slie walked towards the
bridge that spanned Tumbling Forks.
Beneath the structure the water was
deep and smooth. Fifty yards belew
It became a roaring torrent. Half wgy
between the bridge and the rapid &
little peninsula jutted into the stream.
A little boy was lying prone on the
bridge and leaning over the water. He
had a fish line in Ills hand, lie was
a tiny little fellow, and with a sudden
feeling of repugnance Jeuny Travers
recognized the child as Harry Garth,
Mary Garth's boy, and tlie one who
had been taught by bis mother that
Billy Travers was a child to be
shunned.
Jenny was twenty yards from the
bridge when the child iu sudden excite,
ment leaned out: over the river, lost his
balance and fell in. Down the stream
the water was churning and boiling.
There was a swift current under the
bridge, though In the depth of the
water it did not show in its full force.
Jenny cried aloud. She hesitated one
inKtnnt and then with an indescribable
something in her face, rushed forward
and sprang into the water. She had
been u good swimmer in her girlhood.
She caught the boy and bore him up
and then once again called aloud. She
was answered by a shriek from the
bridge. Mary Garth was standing
there shrieking and impotently wring
ing her hands.
Jenny Travers burdened as she was
strove to reach the little peninsula that
rau Into the Forks. She was weaken
ing. She reached a point above It, but
the current swept her out and beyond,
(he boy dinging to her and impeding
the freedom of movement. A man
rushed across the field, and out on to
the peninsula and threw himself into
the water. In a second he found (he
hoy in his arms. .He struggled to reach
the woman also, but the current had
caught her with its full force, and she
was at the edge of the roaring torrent
in whose water was death. The man
struggled ashore with the boy. He
turned and looked. For one Instant
he saw Jenny Travers’ face above the
water. Sluggish of perception though
this Tumbling Forks man was, he saw
that in Jenny's face there was set a
look of peace. As the torrent claimed
her there came from the doorway of
Tod Jcnl; home the roughly sweet
voice of the Tumbling Forks convert:
“Come to Me,” saitii One, "and com
ing, be at rest.’’-Edward 15. Clark, in
the Chicago Keeord-llernld.
The liirtl Doctor.
“John,” said the proprietor of the
bird store, “there's a call at Mrs.
Brown's, uptown.”
John, a thin young man. took up a
black leather hag and hurried out.
“He is a bird doctor,” the proprietor
explained, pointing after the lank,
black figure. "He looks after the
months and feet and plumage of can
aries, parrots and other pets. He cleans
their mouths with little brushes, picks
and sponges. With sets of tiles and
scissors and scrapers he cuts tlieir
nails and keeps their feet in trim.
Ana you ought to see him give a bird a
shampoo. He covers it so with lather
that it resembles a hall of wool.
“John averages about two calls a
day in tbe summer and about live in
the winter. He keeps a physician’s
little day-book, and we send out bills
to birds for professional services just
as though they were human beings.
That pleases the birds’ owners and
tends to create promptitude in the set
tlement of the accounts.”—Philadelphia
Itecord.
Will Itrr.lv. Ilia Iteward.
The country press is more powerful
than the metropolitan papers because
there is more of it, says 11. F. Lusk of
the Jackson (Mo.) Herald. It reaches
more homes and influences tbe old
farmer, the bone and sinew of this
gr€>at republic; therefore, its march Is
and onward. We have noticed
that whenever a country paper has no
influence, is not believed by its read
ers, is not lionc-red by its contem
poraries, that it Sw-s ja editor of a low
type. A newspaper, from the very
nature of things, cannot wield any
greater Influence in the community
than that influence which is warranted
by tbe example, the integrity, the mor
als and the reputation of its editor.
Let the country editor leave off ah
bickering and nagging, and jealousies
of his competitor, and he will become
a benefactor and a philanthropist, and
In time will receive lis just reward
from the people.
Swlfr.
Bound moves 1142 feet per second,
light 192.000 miles a second, and elec
tricity 288,000 miles a second.
bftfhiLDFVeN’S.M
fIIIiSURErtOUR
;" ■ ■ in ■ n—-
A-lL jcto-iA... 1
The Telephone.
“I want to talk to Clover Bloom,”
Said Buttercup one day.
“J wish there was a telephone:
She lives so far away, heigh-ho!
I have so much to say.”
Now Mr. Spider heard her speak
As he was passing by;
■‘l’ll build for you a telephone.
At least I'd like to try, lie, he!
A builder tine am I.’’
So then he climbed the ladder stem,
And then lie spun a thread
Above tlie Daisies —ltow they stared!
Above the Grass’s head, hi, hi;
To Clovers home it led—
A silken wire telephone.
Now Buttercup is gay,
For she can talk to Clover Bloom
The livelong summer day. ha, ha!
1 can’t tell what they say.
—Abbie Farwell Brown, in the Interior.
How to tlraiil a I.artat.
A good rawhide lariat costs from $S
to $25. and is therefore rather too ex
pensive for the average boy, but even if
it were within bis reach it would be of
little use to him, for the regulation
lasso is from forty to fifty feet long,
and far too heavy for a beginner to
handle. There is jKThnps no posses
sion of the cowboys more subject to
variation than his lasso; wliat is exact
ly suited to one seems altogether un
fitted for another, and without bis own
particular style of rope a man loses
half his efficiency. I shall, therefore, in
this article suggest several styles of
rope, and each boy must: select the one
which seems best adapted to him.
Ordinary clothesline does not: make a
good lasso. It is rough and raw and
frays too easily. If, however, clothes
line, is experimented with, use the slip
noose shown in Figure 3, or better,
splice the rope back as shown in Figure
4. Linen tape may be braided into a
splendid rope and even cotton tape is
A PUZZLE PICTURE.
When Tommy Green drowned the cat the girls told his parents. Find his
father and mother.
an improvement on clothesline. Good,
smooth cord will make a very fair
lasso. Figure 5 shows a five-strand
braid, which is very strong and pliable.
Take alternately each outside strand
and cross it over Ilie two following
strands. The four-strand cording shown
in Figure 6, to my mind, gives a better
shaped rope than the one just de
scribed. The diagram itself is the best
description I can give of four-strand
cording. Arrange them as shown, each
strand under the one next to it, and
then pull them tight. About twenty
five feet is the best length for a begin
ner. To make the loop In a braided
rope fasten tlie end buck by means of
the endless tie shown in Figure 2.
When the winding is completed put the
end (B) through the loop (C) and pull
\ if ,‘\ L^\
($ ' 3
\J'
1
DIAGBAJC or LARIAT KNOTS AND LOOPS.
the end (A) until the loop and end have
entirely disappeared beneath the coil.
Then cut off the end CA) and the end
less tie is complete. In order to have
the rope run smoothly cover the loop
with canvas or some other strong
cloth, as shown in Figure 4.
Real rawhide ropes are buried under
ground for some two weeks and after
ward greased with mutton tallow to
make them pliable. Two weeks under
ground will not improve a lineß or
bemp rope, but the greasing I would
strongly advise; only be careful where
you bang up your lasso when not using
it, for grease has a very penetrating
quality.
The art of throwing a lasso can not
be reduced to rule. No two men do it
alike. If you ask a cowboy to teach
you lie will say that every man must
learn to do it for himself by practice.
He will lie quite willing to show you
how be throws the rope, but his style
will lie quite different from the very
next cowboy you meet, and is certain
to bo entirely different from tlie method
you finally adopt. Practice is the only
master who can teach lasso throwing.
—Washington Star.
Mimic Naval Hattie..
A most interesting game for children
is being introduced in Germany. It
represents a naval battle. The various
boats and destroyers are cut out of
MIMIC WARFARE OF CHALK BOATS
chalk, and their little masts are made
of tiny pieces of wood. Tlie chalk ves
sels arc ilicn painted with black ink.
which gives them tlie color of genuine
graylioniids. The sea is formed by a
flat sheet iron or glass vessel, whose
bottom must be very smooth. The ves
sels are placed in order, two fleets op
posite each other, and then the vessel
is tilled a little, say to the height of
one-quarter of an inch, with vinegar.
The effect produced by the contact of
cliall: and vinegar is unique and aston
ishing. Kadi vessel begins at once to
develop steam, and after a few seconds
the vessels begin to move and are soon
entirely enveloped by steam and
smoke. The explanation of this action,
however, is very simple. The chalk is
decomposed by the contact with vine-
gar, and thus separates a gas which es
capes in (lie form of little bubbles,
which form the smoke. The separa
tion of the carbolic acid from the chalk
takes place so suddenly and vehement
ly that the little chalk vessels are
driven in all directions.
Curiou* Hubof Spider*.
The water spider carries air down
with it when it dives. Ur. McCook saw
one remain forty-live minutes under
liie water. One water spider builds a
nest under the water attached to st,
stem of some plant, and in the shape if
a diving bell, with the opening down
ward. It tills this bell with air by tak
ing down a bubble at a time. Coming
to the surface it encloses an air bubble
under its body, and instantly descends.
• Jetting under (lie nest the bubble is
allowed to escape into it. and this pro
cess continues until the nest is full of
air. 'Tile spider then lays its eggs
there, inclosed in a cocoon, and leaves
them for the young to grow in ibis un
der-wgter palace, safe from all Hying
foes.
When these water spiders are seen
under water they look like little balls
of shining silver. lattlc hubbies of air
seem to cling among the bails of their
bodies. As spiders. like insects, breathe
(lie air at little holes along the whole
length of the body, they can easily
make use of these bubbles of air for
breathing.
Companion* of the P.utli,
It seems that kingfishers are among
tbe most regular patrons of the Itoman
batli in Ratli town. The famous water
ing place encourages such things, and
It would be well if a similar spirit pre
vailed elsewhere. One of the birds was
recently rescued from a perilous posi
tion by-the hath attendant, and the lo
cal branch of the Selborne Society ac
knowledged his services with a small
gift. A fear having been expressed
that the birds would grow so numer
ous that tlie supplying of live fishes
might become difficult, a memlier of
the committee of the bathing establish
ment undertook to provide fishes so
long as the birds were protected. It
is a pity, but cannot be helped, that
tiic kingfishers can only flourish at lire
expense of the fishes.
Year* Without New House*.
For a quarter of a century uo new
bouses have been built in the Sussex
(England) village of Siindoa.
SEPTEMBER 21
position.
I.
They sat in the hammock
Quiet and still.
They looked at her daddy—
Amy and Bill.
11.
But daddy went in soon,
(Some daddies will).
They sat in tlie hammock —
Amy
& Hill.
A Happy Family.'
“Grymes and his wife quarreled for
six months over naming the baby.”
“How did they settle it?”
“Easily. It was twins.”—Brooklyn
Life, -■ -
A Sprinter.
Ned—“l didn’t know he could run.”
Ted—" Why, my dear fellow, that
man lias lived in the suburbs for ten
years and never missed a train.”—!'
York News.
The Way a Woman Drcina.
“Have you finished that new novel
yet?” he asked.
“Oh, dear, no; I’ve hardly begun,”
she answered. “In fact, I’ve only read
the last chapter.”—Chicago Post.
Krnte Man.
“Give me a bunch of your hair, Ethel,
Will you?”
“You mean a lock of my hair, don’t
you?”
“Nope, I mean bunch. I want it to
put in my little sister’s rag doll."—New
York Journal.
Tat, Anyhow.
Her Chum—“Y’our heart must hare
gone pitty-pat when Mr. Steel trust pro
posed.”
Penelope* (confidentially)—'“Pitt.v-patl
It went ping-pong!”—Judge.
A IC*qu*Kt.
Husband “l’ve been looking ovei
your engagement book, dear.”
Wife—“ Well?”
“Can’t you postpone that quarrel yon
are going to have with me tomorrow
for another week?”—Life.
Greatly Needed.
Fudge—“l am just on tho eve of a
great invention.”
Judge—“ Will it benefit humanity; is
it a boon to the world?”
Fudge—“ Well. I should say so; my
invention is a fender for automobiles.”
—Baltimore Herald.
Too Much For Him.
“Y'es, poor fellow, lie had to give her
up.”
“Why?”
“Slie made her father promise to give
her an automobile us a wedding pres
ent, and poor George, with bis income
of $20,000 a year, knew he wouldn’t be
able tq pay half the damages."—Chi
cago Record-Herald.
IHacotinting It.
He—“Here's a story of a surgeon who
amputated bis own thumb. Wonder
ful. isn’t it ?”
She—“O! I don't know.”
He—“ What! Just think of his nerve,
and the awful pain he must have suf
fered.”
She—“But no doubt bo put himself
under the influence of ether first.”—
Philadelphia Press.
A Man.
“She seems to make her husband Cos
just as she pleases.”
“Yes.” <c
“I wonder how she does it.”
“She never lias lost sight of a great
truth that many modern women seem
to have forgotten.”
“What is that?”
“A man would rather be ‘managed’
than ’bossed.' ’’—Chicago Pest.
Sftrca:n.
> S
N
Pleasant Old Lady—“My! My! And
did yon catch it yourself?”
Disgusted Fisherman "Well, no!
Four or five other fellers helped me
land dis monster, lady!”—New York
Journal.
In View of Becent Sdmsmm.
“What are you going to do with that
boy of yours?” inquired the intimate
friend.
“I don’t exactly know,” answered the
puzzled parent. “He evinces the most
obstinate aversion to the usual forms
of industry, and he uses language and
expresses sentiments very shocking to
the sensibilities of our friends. If he
was a girl I’d be tempted to put him at
literature.”— Washington Star ... .