Newspaper Page Text
>’i she sat
-./uo fiat <-nerl#B night.
But In his breast wan stubborn pride
As. trudging to and fro, outside.
He watched her glimmering light.
Ah. she was fairer than the rose
And often bad be pressed
His lips to her glad Him and felt
Her fluttering on his breast.
An t he had heard her sigh for him
Hut that was past for aye -
A jet, a taunting word or two,
wud love that had been sweet and true,
Was lightly thrown away !
At last. In bitterness, he turned
And left her there alone,
Still hoping she uilgnt call him back
To claim her as bis own
How excellent to hold her then,
Close, close to him and hear
Her sob and elgb and, trembling, say
Ho softly, in the sweet old way;
"i love—l love you, dear.”
LOVE AND FICKLE FORTUNE.
A STUDY IN SHADOW AND SUNSHINE.
The girl was very pretty and dain
tily tlu'ssed. .lack Grainger, hitting
beside her in the park, ha 1 every
facility for studying her closely. He
was puzzled by the sad, harassed look
on her face, which he thought had no
business to be there at all. It was a
lovely June evening, but the park was
rapidly thinning, for (he inevitable din
ner hour claimed society lor its own.
So absorbed was Grainger in con
templative study that, mirabile dictu,
he had forgotten about that all im
portant function.
Presently the chair ticket man eaine
along and stopped before the girl.
"Have you paid yet, m’m?”
"No,” she answered.
"One penny, please.”
She fumbled in her pocket, but no
purse made its appearance.
"I'm afraid I —l haven’t.—l’ve left
“Allow me,” put in Jack, seizing the
welcome opportunity. “Most awk
ward, of course," he went on, not
noticing her deprecating gesture. ”1
really see no other way out of the diffi
culty, and lie settled the malter by
paying for them both, while the ticket
man walked on. Ills face wreathed in
Inscrutable smiles.
"An old trick, tuat,” he thought, as
he strolled along, though there’s
mar.y a marriage the outcome of it an’
the likes.”
“It is really good of you," said the
girl at last, "but rather than be under
. iv obligation to you 1 would have
much preferred to pay another day.”
"A pleasure at any time to help a
lady out of difficulties," answered
Grainger, delighted that the ice was
broken. “It's so easy to forget your
purse, too. I neveg bother myself with
sneh impediments. Much safer to
carry your money loose in your
pocket; don't you think so?"
“If you have any yes." replied the
girl, smiling in spite of herself and
tracing little patterns in the grass with
her parasol.
"Rather an odd remark," thought
Grainger.
"Er —er. perhaps your pocket has
been picked?” lie ventured at last.
"No "
"Lost your purse?”
She shook tier head.
“Forgot it?"
“Oh, how dense you are,” she ex
claimed, almost petulantly, “you men
never seem able to realize that we
women can be ‘hard up’ although we
present a fairly respectable appear
ance. Now, does not another possible
contingency occ nr to you other than
what you have guessed?”
Jack thought, for a long while, but
bis brain could not rise to the solving
of such a riddle. Impecuniosity was
as foreign to him as are the tropics to
the polar bear.
'Then you must shame me to an ad
mittance,” she answered.
•’Oh!” put in Jack, at last begin
ning to realize the truth, "yon don't
mean, you ean’t mean that you havn't
got ’’
“Yes,” she whispered, and her eyes
filled with tears as she gulped down
a sob. ‘ln spite of *ll—all this,” and
she made a pretty gesture, Indicating
her dainty clothes.
"Wheugh," whistled Jack softly.
"well. I'm he didn’t say what he
was, but whistled again.
She hardly realized why she bad
taken this man. a total stranger, even
thus far into her con defence. But there
was something so kind, so sympa
thetic in his face—something different
from other men.
"Have you no friends, no relatives
in town?” aske.l Grainger at last.
“1 know no one.”
"Then what are yon going to do?"
“I don’t know." She began to cry.
“Come.” said Jack cheerily, “there
is always a silver lining to every
cloud. Perhaps 1 can help you. Tell
me all about it."
“My father and mother died a year
ago. leaving me with scarcely any
money,” began the girl, "and until a
month ago I remained in my Devon
shire home. My slender resources be
gan io eke out. so 1 came to London
to see if 1 could get employment as
a governess. Luck has been against
me and I have now come to the end
of my resources. That's all —the
whole thing in a nutshell,” she con
cluded bitterly. ”1 need not go into
details. You will understand what I
have gone through.
The girl flushed scarlet with shame
at such an exposure. Her pride aud
self-esteem were wounded, too.
The irony of it struck him forcibly.
••j'm—l ni awfully sorry,” he said at
she did not call !
| id* day had dawned and yet
lie waited to leeelve her word
Of candor and regret;
And then, in pride ho wrote to her
To bring h-r to her knees —
He scribbled but a line or two.
Yet that was plenty, as he knw:
‘‘lteturn my letters, please”’
Ho waited proudly—ah, nt last!
A dainty letter came:
Love fanned the embers in Ids breast
And set them all aflame.
“She yields 1” he proudly cried, and then
He sat with drooping bead:
‘‘Your letters cannot be roturaed.”
Hhe wrote, "because I always burned
Them alter they were read.”
Still, still her laugh is sweet to hear.
And still her face Is fair;
Her footsteps still are quick and light,
Htill pride is la her air—
And yesterday be delved among
Her choicest treasures —oh.
His heart leaped when he abancsd to seo,
Horibboued there, those letters she
Had burned up long ago.
—B. E. Kiser.
last, awkwardly enough. “It's fear
fully hard."
Their eyes met. Her face was still
flushed, and there were tears in her
vi ice and eyes as she smiled and said:
“Thank you for saying that. You are
so sympathetic."
The words though slight in them
selves and so simply uttered, carried
a world of meaning.
Grainger stared vacantly across the
road again.
What a sweet face she had. Why
should fate be so cruel to one with
whom Nature had dealt so generously.
Who, to look at her, would have
thought such cruel poverty was hers?
Daintily, charmingly dressed -not a
penny in the world.
Well, he couldn't leave her without
doing something.
“Look here,” he said at last, “here
is my card. ' He handed it to her, at
the same lime steadily avoiding her
glance. “If at any time you should
be in difficulties, er—well, er —come
and look me up. And er —, or bang
it.” he exclaimed, “it's no use my beat
ing about the bush, I’m going to lend
you live pounds.”
The girl crimsoned, but. shook her
head. “Impossible— 1 don i know when
I could repay you.”
“Then may i ask what you intend
doing and how you are to puss the
night?”
"I don’t know,” she murmured,
“Nor do I. unless you accept my
loan. I must Insist,” he said earnest
ly. “Pardon my saying so. but l think
R is folly to refuse. Consider it a
loan that you can return at any dis
tant date you like."
She had taken the card and placed
it in her pocket.
“We are all, some time or other,
victims of circumstances," he began
again; “consider that your time has
now come,” he concluded banteringly.
“You—you are very good,” she whis
pered. “Why! how do you know that
my tale is true, or that
"You are unkind. ' he put it quickly.
“Must l tell you what 1 see in your
face and eyes. They spell
She motioned him to desist. “Tell
me another time —if we over meet
again. Since necessity demands that
l must submit to. 1-1 ”
‘ Then you will accept the amount?”
"Necessity says yes,” she answered,
softly.
They strolled to the corner in sil
lenco.
“Don’t forget when you are in trou
ble." he began, “to
”1 shall always remember. No
words of mine can thank you. Please
don't follow tue to see where i go.
Premise me.”
"Yes, I promise." he said, raising
his hat. "flood night."
"Good night." He watched her walk
quickly down Grosvenor place, then
went to his club.
He Knew be bad fallen in love at
lirst sight.
“Another season come ami gone.
Jack." said his uncle, a solicitor of
the oltl school, “and you not found an
heiress. 1 still stick to my bargain.
The day you marry a girl with ten
thousand pounds I leave al! to you.”.
■ Well, who knows what may hap
pen?" answered Jack, pointing to the
personal column of the Daily Argus.
“1 see you’ve got that in again. He in
dicated the following:
"If Miss Marjorie 0. Blakeley will
call on Messrs, .lollop and Grainger.
Solicitors. 53 Gray's Inn. she will hear
of something to her advantage."
“Yes,” answered his uncle, “[
■ bought I'd have another try. It's
been in nine times. Say. the girl's an
heiress to something like fifty thous
and pounds, and she may be starving
for all we know. Jack. 1 expert great
things if she calls." concluded Graing
er's uncle as he lett the office for
lunch, leaving his nephew in their
private sanctum.
Jack often wondered what had be
come of his forlorn little friend he had
met in the park. He had tried every
possible means of finding her where
abouts. but was unsuccessful. He had
constantly hung about the park, but
had never seen her. She had never
been to see him, but he was not very
surprised at this. He kr.rw she was
the soul of honor, and that the loan of
five* pounds would be returned at the
earliest opportunity. His thoughts
were suddenly Interrupted by the ab
rupt entrance of the office boy. "A
lady to see Mr. Jollup. sir."
"My uncle's out." answered Jack,
"but show hor in to me."
THE BRUNSWICK DAILY NEWS.
In another moment the girl whom
he had befriended entered.
“You can go,” said Grainger to the
office imp. who was grinning at hi3
look of astonishment. The boy van
ished. For a few’ moments neither
spoke.
"Yes,” began Jack at last rather
awkwardly, “can I do anything for
you?"
She unfolded the Daily Argus, and
indicating the paragraph, quietly in
formed him that she was Marjorie O,
Blakeley.
“Why,” gasped Jack in astern:/*,
merit., “we have been trying to find
you for three months. Did you know
that your uncle who lived in Australia,
for whom we‘are acting, died four
months ago, ar.d left you all his
money?”
She shook her head.
“it—it. is true, then?” she asked
tremulously.
"iTrue! 1 should think it is. The
advertisement has been in the Daily
Argus nine times. Have you only just
seen it?”
She nodded; then said, "I have been
ill in hospital for six weeks. What i
went through before I met you told
on me at last, and i had to give in.”
At the very time, 1 met yon in the
park.” went on Jack, "you were enti
tled to fifty thousand pounds. The
irony of it."
"You were very, very good to me,"
she said simply, her eyes tilling with
tears. ”1 have not forgotten about the
loan."
“Oh, bother the loan!" exclaimed
Jack.,
She smiled, and then Uncle Jollup
came in and spoilt it by insisting on
overhauling all the necessary papers
then and there.
<***•
“And so. Jack, you are going to
marry an heiress after all.” said Un
cle Jollup, in huge delight some
months after, when he was entertain
ing Marjorie Blakeley and Jack to din
ner at his house. "Well, ray boy. I
congratulate you. Now l leave all to
you. A bargain’s a bargain.
Sweet Marjorie blushed and looked
.shyly at Jack, who rose and bent over
her. "I have been more than repaid,"
he whispered, "for 1 have won the
heart and love of the. sweetest girl
on earth.” —New York News.
QUAINT AND CURIOUS.
According to the Newcastle Chron
icle the ghost whose mysterious con
duct at Glyncorrwg colliery, Glamor
gan, Wales, frightened Stic workmen
from the pit, has turned out to be a
stray pony, turned loose by some prac
tical joker.
Tlie so-called iron crown of Lom
bardy which is the most treasured na
tional possession of the itaiin kiug
<i tin, preserves the nucleic form more
than any other now worn. It is of
golden "plaques," or low panels,
which do not rise above the top of the
head.
One of the most remarkable archi
tectural structures in existence is the
itit-iianded spiral staircase in the
Chateau de Hois. Touraine, built dur
ing the sixteenth century. The de
sign of the staircase corresponds so
exactly with the spirals of the com
mon Mcdil.orrnno.in shell known as
the Volute vesperUlio that: there is lit
tle doubt where the designer got his
model.
A freak of nature is to bo seen In a
tree now growing and in full foliage in
the garden lot attached to the engine
house in Had Mutton, at Sixty-first and
Thompson streets, Philadelphia. The
tree lias thro distinct stems or trunks,
which join and form one trunk. The
top foliage would bo much larger, but
the tree is ken: pruned, to prevent
overtaxing of the roots and stems.
The stems were planted each sperate
ly, and when they rook root grafted
into each othet at the top. They grew
rapidly and each stem ei itself is a
perfect support to the joined head.
In connection with the anniversary
of the Bethel Primitive Methodist
chunel, Burnley. England, a souvenir
handbook containing copies of old rec
ords lias been issued. A minute
passed in I;VM reads: “That we do
not allow young men and young wo
men of our society to court with each
other on Sunday; neither io we allow
our single men and women to walk
in the street together arm in arm at
any time; neither do wo allow them
to stand at street corners dinting to
gether." By another resolution the
chapel authorities forbade girl choris
ter;'. wearing bows in their bonnets.
O. p. Slinter is quoted by Dr. R.
Horst of the Leyden museum as au
thority for the statement that crabs
do climb trees. Mr. Slinter posesses
near Batavia come captive specimens
of the eocoanut crab and
has seen them climb to the
top of mangrove trees and
palms fully SO feet in height. What
they did at the top he was unable to
ascertain, but he considers it probable
that they were engaged in opening
young eoeoanuts and devouring their
contents. Whether they have cite
power of opening Hpe eoeoanuts could
not be determined, the specimens un
der observation merely fumbling such
as were given them without attempt
ing to penetrate the shell.
11 intorir.
Percy Rodgers, of Bardstown. Ky.
has in his possession the bugle that
called the Continen.al army to battle
in many of the principal engagement?
lcr American independence.
Beetles in the East and West Indiem
are so brilliant in coloring that they
are beautiful as gems.
SPOTTERS ON TROLLEYS.
EVERY ELECTRIC TRACTION COM
PANY HAS A LARCE CORPS.
All St rancors to Kitch Other—Are Known
by .Number Excel* to Tlioir Chief ami
to the Antlller—VUtt’h Conductor* and
Moformun llule* CoTerninjs J>utle.
In alt large cities having an electric |
railway system there is an important
branch of service which never reaches |
the gaze of the puolic, states the Phil
adelphia Record. Few people have
any idea that the company pays a
number of men to ride on its cars as
passengers every hour of tne day. The j
object is to keep a strict watch on i
Us conductors and motornren for any j
breach of the rules. These men are j
called inspectors by the company, but ;
the employes call them "spotters.”
It is not only the passenger-3 who [
are ignoiant of the identity of ihese
men, but no one connected with the
company except the chief of the in- ;
spec-tors know them. In making their ;
reports all the inspectors must sign
by numbers
These are given then by the chief to j
use instead of their names. The chief !
is not permitted to give tue name of j
any inspector to any one except the
auditor when the payroll is made out
each week. Another element in the j
absolute secrecy of the ser vice is the
fact that inspectors do not know each
other. They do not work iu pairs, as
in other secret service, but each man
works independent of any other along
certain linen of directions given by
tho chief.
The duties of these men are many
and exacting. They must make a
careful study of all the rules, regula
tions and orders of the company and
tiny infringement of these must be re- :
ported. These include the proper and i
polite treatment of passengers, rare- ■
ful running of the car on the part of :
the motorman in respect to cross
streets, pedestrian:;, wagons and the j
application of the power and brakes, j
Perhaps lie most important duty of ;
all is to see that all the fares ate col- ;
lected, and, what is still more import
ant, that they are all registered cor
rectly. It is ibis duty that requires ;
tact, good judgment, an understanding
of human nature and good eyesight.
The inspector must keep constantly |
in mind the fact that the man he is
watching may be a tittle sharper than j
lie. an I any false move on his part ;
would prove fatal to bis usefulness on
that car. Each trip made by the in
spector must bear record on ids tbial ,
report. He must give the badge num
ber of the conductor, the block number ;
of Ihe car. the street and time ho got
on. tin. street and time he got off. to
gether with the register statements.
All those facts must be kept in mem- ;
ory until he gels off the car. when lie
makes a record of them on his trip
card.
At the end of his day’s work he must
make a final report of ail trips made,
amount of cash paid out, for fares and
a Tull descriptive report, of any wrong
doing or accidents witnessed by him.
These reports are given the n- xt lay
to the chief on reporting tc the office,
who in turn forwards them to the gen
eral superintendent.
Aft -r a careful reading by the su
perintendent all the men who have
been inspected and have no bad re
ports against them are given good
credit on their record. On the other
hand, if any have bad reports made
against them the reports are placed on
tile, and if any have been reported
for stealing or where a number of com
plaints of a minor nature are on tile,
the man is ordered to be "speclaled.”
By this is meant that on every trip
the suspected man makes in a day.
week or month, he has on bis car an
inspector. This fact shows how care
fully the man is watched. Each in
spector who goes cn a ' special" detail
is required to make a full detailed re
port, either good or bad, of the mans
actions, if a majority of these re
ports agree as to wrongdoing the su
perintendent makes the basis for dis
cipline.
The position in itself is not oerma
nent, nor does it offer any chance for
advancement. These ‘at ts are tolv
the applicant wits, emphasis on his
first interview with the chief A
working day consists of nine and a
half hours, with a sliding schedule
of repotting hours for every week. He
can bare no holidays and very few
Sundays off. About twice a week he
start.' at ! a. m.. and on two other
days at p. nt. Tile other days of rhe
week are means between these ex
tremes. The wages of an inspector
art s2.2*> per day and eas.i paid for
fares.
Another thing to remgmber is that
an inspector is on different divisions
each day. His work is assigned each
day by the chief, and. as a result, he
seldom rides a division more than once
a month. Of course, he cannot in
spect every car on a division in one
day. nut he is expected to make at
least 15 trips of about 2'* minutes
each.
Although carefulness ar.d secrecy
are the* watchwords of every inspec
tor. the time soon comes when they
are known to the motorman end con
ductors. This may be due to seme
slight indiscretion or movement on
the part of the inspectors, which has
caused the motorman or conductor to
be guarded. Descriptions soon spread
at the barn, and in about three months
new men take their places, as the
company has no more use for them.
When the cost of maintaining tho
system is considered, one would think
that $20,000 a year would be greater
than the amounts stolen by employes,
yet the officials say it is money well in
vested.
In the game of love diamonds often
rank higher than hearts.
COMPRESSED FOOD FOR CAMPERS,
The United State* Artny lUtinn the Most
feufcefnl Yet iu the Market.
The traditional woodsman, hunter,
or trapper, who staggered under a hun
dred pounds or more of food and
impedimental has had his burden re
duced very greatly in the past five
years. Ijghter rifles and shotguns,
ammunition of smaller calibre, and
considerably less weight for modern
rifles; thin pressed steel or aluminum
dishes winch nest compactly into one
another so that, not a nock or corn
is wasted; packs, baskets, and straps
of minimum weight and maximum
convenience, have all taken something
from the grievous load the camper
used to “tote.” Still, more remark
able are the changes brought about
by the condensed and compressed
foods which, tin lor one name or an
other, are for sale iu all die “outing
stores.”
Salt pork, cornmeal, white beans,
and tea, reinforced, of course, by fish,
game, and native fiuits, the dietary
tecontmended ami many a "Pocket
Guide to Hunting and Trapping,” was
bulky and also heavy in proportion to
its nutritive value. Canned goods un
til recently took up practically as
much room as the same articles in
their natural state, and there was
little gain in buying them, except for
boat or canoe trips when there was
plenty of space.
Canned soups of the standard
brands were put up ready to serve
without dilution, and the only portable
substitutes were the time-honored
‘•’soup cakes'* of the kind used in the
“Swiss Family Robinson." As soon as
the idea was conceived of manufaetui
iug something between these two ex
tremes, it was tal;en up by several
makers. The condensed soups of to
day are thick and require to be mixed
with several times their bulk of water,
but they have net been boiled down so
far as to sacrifice their liavor and deli
cacy.
Experiments in the way of ‘Tool
tablets” have met with varied results.
A large firm of packers once adver
tised a compressed tabloid of meat
and various vegetables, dried and
closely pressed so as to keep, in th ■
language of advertisements, "for years
in any eljmate." The trouble with
this particular viand was that it did
not taste good.
The United States government in
iis experiments with the army's food
supply has Incidentally accomplished
a great deal for the camper’s benefit.
The regular emergency ration is per
haps the most successful prparation
of its kind on the market. A square
tin <at\. no larger than the ordinary
pint fruit can, is suppose to contain
three meals, not hearty repasts, how
ever, for a really hungry man. There
is a racket of tea inside the can, an
other packet of seasoning, and a solid
lump of a mixture of a partly dried
meat with vegetables. The adaptabil
ity of this ration to various purposes
is its strongest point. Mixed with
w ater to the consistency of a thick
paste and brown in a pan,
bash. Thinned with a trifle less water
it t an be shaped into halls or flat cakes
and fried as Hamburg steak. Stirred
up with a larger proportion of water,
a savory stew is the result.
Several of the packing and canning
firms have put on the market reeenty
an assortment of flat cans containing
,i 1 the staple meat and fish products,
I'.raci Rally without juice, in the cans,
and squeezed into fie smallest pos
slide compass. The flat can is a con
venience for packing w rich the mak
ers sem to be slow in appreciating.
At the opposite extreme from the
pork and beans are the malted-tnilk
tablets and similar preparations which
supply nutriment in ils least compass
lnit do net pretend io take the place
of tbi- regular diet for i althy persons
doing active work. Druggists testify
to the extensive use of these in place
of noonday luncheon by business men
of pu r digestion ar.d peverous tem
perament, but they are not to be con
sidered in supplying the woodsman’s
pad;.
I‘nlilp, Though N^tlr.
"Exi t:.s >. me," said a sliabby-looking
man as lie walked up to a cadaverous
looking stranger, “but may 1 ask you
for a bit of information?" "Certainly,
you may," said the stranger, and the
shabby-lookiug man smiled pleasantly.
"And you will not consider me at all
impertinent, will you?" "Not in the
leas:." said the stranger. "And it will
not be taking too much of your time?”
"Oil, no." By this timet mscrangerwaa
becoming a little vexed, but the shab
bily dressed fellow was apparently in
the bese of spirit. "No doubt you are a
f-sidert of this > By?" in a questioning
ton-. "But v. hat <-an Ido for you, v'nS
information do you seek?" asked the
vexed stranger. "Well, you see," said
the shabby man. "you will
pardon me. but 1 am a stranger here.
In fact I have just arrived. Now you
will please excuse me for taking up so
much of your time, but as I said be
fore f hare just arrived here and am
a perfect stranger here." "What it is
you wanted to ask about?” said the
listener with a show of impatience.
"Well, you see." the man replied. "I
hope you will not think it impertinent
in me to ask if you are in a condition
at this time to give me some little as
sistance in a financial way for—" "No,
1 am not," was the blunt reply. “Then
you will excuse me." said the polite
beggar, "and I'll not ask you to do it
for fear of embarrassing you," and
the shabby man bowed and rmiisd, and
walked down the street.—New Orleans
Times-Democrat.
For I'ollcy 1 . ‘nice.
Howson—l always lie on my right
side.
Bowser—Yes. and you lie to get on
the right side of other people, too
New York Press.
COMPENSATION.
That which we have, we lose,
That we have uot, retain-.
Possessions we at best confuse
With thoughts of loss and pain.
But joys that never come to birth
Are sale and sweet ’yond power of earth.
—Harper's Bazar.
HUMOROUi
Tommy—Pop, gas is measured by
tire loot, isn’t it? Tommy’s pop—
Yes, my son, and paid for by the mile.
Hoax —Talk is cheap. Joax —Ah!
that’s probably why my wife has so
much. She picks up all the bargains.
Newrich —YVhat do you think of my
daughter's voice, professor? Is it not
heavenly? Professor —Well, k—er, is
rather unearthly.
Blobbs —Since the Johnsons came
hack from abroad they spell their
name Jenson. Slobbs—.'es; they
think it’s quite English to urop their
h’s.
Wigwag—Yes, that’s a good photo
graph of your wife. In fact. I should
call it a speaking likeness. Hen
speckle—Hardly that. You see she
has her mouth shut.
Hook—lf you had your choice in
the matter of a musical education.
; what instrument would you choose?
; Nye—l think i should like to be a
j soloist on a cash register.
“Well. Fritz, you got birched in
school today?” "Yes, but it didn’t
hurt.” “But you certainly have been
crying?” "Oh, 1 wanted to let. the
teacher have a little pleasure out of
it.”
Mrs. Bjones —Your husband, I hear,
is quite versatile. Mrs. Brown-Smythe
I— Versatile is no name for it. Wh.t,
he can actually stay out late every
night in the week and not give the
same excuse twice.
”He must be put out of the way,”
said the feudal king. “But, your
Majesty," protested the Lord High
Executioner, “he is your first cousin.
“I know; but I prefer to have him my
| ‘cousin once removed.’”
Airs. Simpythize —i am so sorry that
: your dear uncle, whom you loved so
i much, is dead. Mrs. Cutowt—Oh, you
needn't be; he didn’t leave us a cent—
after all the times we had him at
! our house for dinner, too.
Employer—l hear you're calling on
1 old mau Cassidy’s daughter. 1 sup
pose you think you’ve met your fate
there. Mike. Mil e— Shore, sor. the
| only thing Oi can think of the day is
| that Oi met wan of her father’s fato
I there lasht noight.
"[ am hard to discourage,” said the
rejected suitor, melodramatically.
| "Some day I’ll make you say you love
| me. and then—and not until then—l
| shall die happy.” “I’ll say it now,"
| said she promptly. “I don't mind tell-
I ing a lie for a good end."
i “Such carelessness is little short of
j criminal.” thundered Dr. Price-Price.
angrily. "Oh, doctor.” sobbed Mrs.
I Sassiety-I.ieder's nurse-girl, "do you
| Idame me for the baby's illness?”
: "Most assuredly. You should know
| better than to leave it alone in the
■ are of its mother even for a moment.”
"Now that my novel is to be pub
lished,” said the young author whose
: work was being brought out at bis
! own risk. ”i can't lu-lp wondering
iif it will sell—:if the public will only
| buy it. you know.” Sure,” replied the
heartless publisher; “it will sell the
i public all right if the public will only
j buy it."
.iiint stfppfii on*.
Sunday when the excursion train
from Paris, filled with negroes bound
for the camp-meeting, reached this
city, it passed the station and went
through Cynthiana at the rate of about
25 miles and hour, the idea being to
keep the crowd on board until the ar
rival at the grounds at the Falmouth
pike crossing. Just before reaching the
Pike street a negro man jumped from
the train. Of course, the momentum
of the cars carrier* him along at a ter
riiH- par e. His body was going so fast
r that his legs could not possibly keep
up, but they made a variant effort to
do so, and such a lickity-split a negro
never cut before. He galloped across
the gutter at Pike street, at tremendous
sjreed, ho rely missing a telephone pole,
flew ;i™into the air, turned a couple
of somersaults, and landed ail in a
heap in the middle of the street. His
eyes were as big as saucers and seemed
to pop out. As he slowly gathered
himself together his trousers were split,
his knees were bruised and bleeding,
his arms were wrenched, his coat-tails
were in tatters, and his battered stiff
hat was smashed down tight over his
ears.
At that moment a negro gir! who
knew him came along.
“Why, how do you no, Mr. Hopkins,' 1
she exclaimed.
Why, how- do you do?” he answered,
in deep, calm tones, with a carefully
measured accent., ‘“How do you do?
You are looking quite We-we-weil. I
just stepped off the train to meet
you."—Louisville Courier-Journal.
Clifimpion rl>v C-Inb 7 rotter.
1 think .that my baby boy, Francis
Cragg, holds the record for traveling.
He was hern Jan. 1. 1901. On April
30, 1901. he left London for Liverpool,
then New York, Philadelphia, Boston,
Buffalo. Chicago. St. Louis, Kansas
City, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Hon
olulu. Pago-pago, Auckland. N. Z„ Syd
ney, Australia, Melbourne. Adelaide,
Hobart, Tasmania, tmnedin, N. Z.,
Christchurch. Wellington, Auckland,
back to Sydney, Brisbane, Queensland,
Melbourne, Adelaide, Fremantle, Col
ombo, Suez, Port Said, Naples, Mar
seilles, Gibraltar, Plymouth, arrived in
London June 21. 1902. just nine days
before he was IS months old, anj he
had traveled 33,850 miles. —London
1 Mail.
OCTOBER 13