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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 ... .