Nebraska Newspapers

    Dakota County Herald
DAKOTA CITY, NIB.
4hn H. m, Publlehaj
What causes divorce? "Bum grub,"
Bliouts the army of dyspeptics.
Nit on the big hatpins, Bays Chica
go. Now for the protruding umbrella.
' The chanticleer fad In this country
if chiefly confined to the cold storage
warehouses.
King Menellk will havo to be dead
gome- time before foreigners will be
lieve that he Is In earnest.
A sound decision. A St. Louis Jrtdge
(as decided that a cat seat belongs to
the person who gets It first.
KlBsIng Is unknown in Japan. It
U not surprising that they havo been
backward many years In civilization.
That man who enters Harvard at the
age of 45 ought to have some bully
good times with his classmate, William
James SIdls.
English papers speak of a man In
the Birmingham hospital for skin dis
masts who Is turning to marble. He
appears to be a hard case.
Men and women who cry out loudest
against vivisection wear furs of ani
mals and the plumage of birds. Con
sistency, thou art a virtue!
It Is promised that beef roasts are to
t cheaper. They can be a lot cheaper
without causing any consumer to feel
that it would be a shame not to begin
a ting roast beef again.
. Walk a mile before breakfast to
care up an appetite, advises the doc
tor. If you want only a light break
fast, walk say from the front of the
couse to the dining room.
Missouri Judge has decided that
it is criminal negligence to get near a
mule's heels. It seems to be a case
"Where the innocent bystander is, like
the ultimate consumer, a myth.
Secretary Wilson thinks the sale of
foodstuffs in packages is to blame for
ome of the excessive cost of living.
The wives of the men who carry home
packages" will readily agree to this.
A steamship in Florida waters had
a, hard time getting past a school of
monster 1,000-pound turtles that
showed fight It is early in the soa
on, but the sea serpent is not going
to be missed.
A little girl who died in Philadel
phia twelve years ago left her handful
f pennies 37 cents to start a fund
tor a new Methodist church. From
that tiny beginning much has grown,
and work is now going forward on a
building that is to cost $75,000. No
gift that is sanctified by love is small.
Thomas A. Edison says in Popular
Electricity that "thero Is absolutely no
reason why bosses 'should be allowed
within the city limits, for, between the
;asollne and electric car, no room is
eft for them.. A higher public Ideal
of health and cleanliness is working
toward such banishment swiftly, then
we shall have decent streets Instead
of stables made of cobblestones bor
dered by sidewalks." HorBes are pret
ty bad, and thon thore is the man who
tears big letter up and throws it out
into the street. He should go, too,
while we are about it
A peaslmlstio old shipmaster of New
York has been confiding his discourage
ment to a reporter. Boys no longer
go to sea, he says. American steam
hip lines have the greatest difficulty
In getting the right sort of lads for
training up into officers. ' Public school
ducatlon unfits boys for the Eea. The
present-day eagerness In the pursuit of
money makes the youngsters unwlll-
log to follow a calling the sacrifices
and perils of which are rewarded by
the scantiest of livings. But It may
be a lack of opportunity rather than a
llsllke for the seafaring life that keeps
the boys ashore. The action of econ-
omlo forces bos swept our merchant
Ships from the ocean. The small mar
gin of profit on which commerce Is
nowadays conducted has apparently
diverted American capital from ship
ping to business in which more money
can be earned. Only ten per cent of
our Imports and a much smaller pro
portion of our oversea trade come in
American bottpms. But given the op
portunity to go to sea, the boys are
fairly ready to go. The navy has less
trouble than the army In finding re
cruits. Nevertheless, the collapse of
the Amerlcair merchant marine is
great misfortune. No great nation Is
satisfied to have its foreign trade a!
most wholly in foreign hands; and It
Is a sad loss to any country when so
independent, adventurous and courage
ous a race as that of the deop-sea mar
iners declines and disappears. There
la much discussion concerning the best
means of restoring American shipping,
It may be necessary to wait for chang
ing economic conditions to undo tha
harm they have already done. But we
may all hope that the day when the
Sag shall again hold the place on the
high seas which It held half a century
ago may not long bo delayed.
The death of King Edward, bo sud
den and startling, was a profound
shock' to Britain and her colonics and
to the world at larga. Nothing ha(
prepared even the men and women
nearest to the ttirrno for such nu un
fortunate and dlgiurling event, fo
forty-eight hours bcfoie few knew that
the klug was ill at all. and those who
did considered the Indisposition ti
lling. It is true that in England th
King reigna wu.unit governing, am!
that no perceptible lo'utltutk n il or
political chunk s are to bi apprehend
ed. But While d'.n-ori niy rules and
policies, foreign cud l rm stle, aro dic
tated by essential n;o ti .V.ltk ns and
fixed ir!ncijil( a, 11 would be a mistake
to wndei seati.nufe t'.io leiscnal nr.d so
cial iullututc of the tluj. In diplo
macy especially I-i tl.is Influence apt
to be strong, and King Custard took
particular Interest in foreign rela-
Hons and Is known to hare originated
and favored certain alliances and un
derstandings. In home politics he wai
always scrupulously impartial or sea
tral, but his sympathies were on th
side of progress and evolutionary re
form. Many have called him "the most
popular man in England," and then
was little exaggeration in this. A re
cent article containing daring, un
friendly references to him and charge
of excessive love of ease and sport,
lack of vigor or Interest In serloui
problems of state provoked genulnt
national indignation. Even radicals
socialists and ardent home rulers ad
mlt that King Edward had no enemlei
among the workmen and the masnej
of the people. The republican tenden
cles of a decade or two ago have dis
appeared without a trace. King Ed
ward may be said to have strengthen'
ed the monarchy In England by his
qualities and achievements and to
have recovered for it some of the pow
er and prestige It had lost with th
advance of popular government and
radical liberalism. The new king can
but follow In his footsteps and couri
general respect and admiration by
giving like evidence of dignity, tact,
a progressive spirit and an earnest
desire to promote the welfare of his
people, even at the expense of the an
cient privileges of an effete peerag
or aristocracy.
Arnroltfla.
Neuralgia is a paroxysmal pain in a
nerve. In most victims of this wretch
ed trouble the same nerve suffers in
each attack, although there are pa
tients with whom the agony travels
from one nerve to another. The first
thing to ascertain in a case of per
sistent neuralgia is whether the trou
ble Is due to some underlying organic
condition, or whether it is simply just
a case of a sick nerve calling for help
The neuralgia which has an organic
basis is called "symptomatic" neural
gla, and may be present as one of
many other symptoms In tumors, or
in certain inflammatory affections or
tuberculous lesions which are in such
position ns to compress the course of
the nerve at any point.
Neuralgia pure and simple is called
"idiopathic," and may be compared to
the creams of an angry baby, who de
clares its needs In the only fashion It
can command.
The only person competent to judge
whether a particular cose of neuralgia
is "symptomatic" or "idiopathic" Is of
course the physician, and if the pain is
traceable to some organlo trouble, any
treatment directed to removal of the
pain alone would be simple loss of
time.
In a case of simple neuralgia the
first thing to do is to find out the
I A .1 - Si .1 A A 1 I
underlying cause, for it may be ac
cepted as an axiom that perfectly well
people do not have painful nerves.
Young children and old people are
rarely sufferers from neuralgia. It is
a trouble that attacks those who are
living the active adult life, and espe
cially people in middle age, when the
various fatigues of that life are most
prone to overtake us. It la often one
of the sequels of a long Illness, such
as typhoid fever, and
often follows
grippe.
Persons with the so-called rheumatic
diathesis seem more disposed to It,
and any great emotional shock or un
due fatigue may bring on an attack
In a neuralgic Individual.
Besides the paroxysmal pain of neu
ralgia, there la generally a dull ache
all the time of the attack, with tender
spots along the line of the nerve, that
will be found very sensitive to slight
pressure with the finger tip.
Neuralgia may attack any nerve In
the body, but it perhaps causes its
greatest torture when it takes the
form known as tlc-douloureoux. This
is neuralgia in the face, along the line
ot the sensitive nerve which supplies
all this part of the head. Another ex
quisitely painful form ot neuralgia U
that known as sciatica, In tbe sciatic
nerve, which runs down the back ot
the leg. Youth's Companion.
WOMAN AS A FACTOR, FOB GOOD.
Philadelphia Treacher Hellevea Fair
Sen Anuria of tha Karlh.
With tho increasing prominence ot
the cause of woman suffrage, the ques
tion of woman's work and woman's In
fluence is being much discussed. It Is
argued by the advocates of equal
rights that suffrage would "broaden
woman's sphere" and "make her a fit
ter companion of man," and it Is con
tended with equal posltlveneBS by the
opponents of suffrage that It would
make her less inclined to attend strict
ly to womanly duties.
Of the many interesting sermons
preached from Philadelphia pulpits
the other day, ono by the Rev. Clinton
B. Adams, Congregatlouallst, deserves
more than passing attention, the Phil
adelphia Times says. His theme, was
"A Young Woman's Religion," and
aning other things he described wom
en as tho angels of earth, the inspira
tion of men lh whatever they under
take and responsible for whatever they
achieve.
Men have accomplished great things
without help from or thought of wom
en. Other men hove failed through
their very devotion to or their control
by Inferior women. Those, however,
are tho exceptional cases. Generally,
woman Is the lnsplratltn. tho cause.
And bhe is a tremendous Individual
factor for good for all that 1h good
and beautiful.
In one sentence the clergyman has
poken a great truth. He d'clures
that "men are disposed to 1h) what
women they lovo udmlre in them."
This Is profoundly true and in ni
wondrouB, lndeserlbuble Influence ovm
man, she becomes a powerful agent fti
good or evil.
What has become of the old fashion
ed hone that was afraid ot automobiles'
A new biography of Harrison Alns-
worth is coming from the press. It
Is supposed that some of Alnsworth's
forty-one novels are still read though
they can hardly be called literature.
"Types from City Streets" is the ti
tle of the forthcoming book in which
Hutchlns Hapgood has undertaken to
describe the underworld of New York,
especially what he finds to be Us
charm.
Jane Austin is the newest literary
discovery of French critics. One of
them declares that she forms the one
striking exception to the Insanity of
genius. He calls her the first of the
realists, a writer absolutely normal
and sane.
In the writing of the authoritative
life of Karl Marx, which is among the
spring publications, the author, John
Hpargo, has had the assistance of
Mme. Lafargun, Marx's daughter.
Marx's friends have also assisted the
author in gathering reliable material
for his volume.
A vivid picture of the state of
France at the accession of Louis XVI.
Is to be found in the Marquis de Se-
gur's new book, "The Setting Sun of
the Monarchy." The author apparent
ly believes that Turgot might have
saved the monarchy had not Marie
Antoinette's prejudice agaimit him
sent him Into retirement.
A good example of the spelling of
three hundred years ago as well as an
Interesting presentation of the cus
toms and manners of the period Is
given in F. W. Moorman's biographi
cal and critical study of the poet Rob
ert Herrlck, to bo published soon. Dr.
Moorman quotes a letter written by
John Eyrlck, as the poet's grandfath
er spelled his name, to his son Nicho
las on the occasion of the latter's mar
riage, which reads as follows:
"Sonne Nicholas Eyrlck, your mother
and I have us commended unto your
bedfellows and you; for I trust now
that ye be a married man; for I hard
by your brothor Stenford that youe
weir appointed to marry on Monday
the tenth of December; and If you be
maryed we pray God to send voue
Dot he muche Joye and comfort toeeth-
er, and to all hir friends and yours."
"Some Musical Recollections of Fifty
Years," by Richard Hoffman, is a late
publication. The delightful reminis
cences Of Mr. Hoffman nr nrofo,!
by a memoir by Mrs. Hoffman which
gives briefly and very pleasantly the
main facts of her husband's long ca
reer, and supplements most satisfac
torily the reminiscences themselves
Mr. Hoffman begins his story with the
account of how as a boy of 14 he made
the Journey from MneheatBi pin.
gland, his nafive city, to Birmingham,
to hear Felix MenrielRnhn nnJiiA
the "Elijah." When 16 years old he
came to America, and from that time
on he gives most entertaining and in.
i . .
leicsung accounts of all the musical
celebrities who came to America and
gave concerts and toured the country.
His account of his own concert at
oasue uarden. New York, and his
tour of the West and East (including
Canada) with Joseph Burke, of their
expenses and receipts, and the recep
tion they met with, of Jenny Lind's
arrival and singing in New York and
of her tour with him under P. T.
Barnum's management, of Thaih-ro-
'and dottschalk, von Bulow. and their
yours, make this a most valuable and
charming review of the musical his-
tory of America.
Mjr Hon and 1.
"My naughty little son." quoth I as he
Lay flat acrosa my stiff paternal knee
i-nce aownward, and for some small bit
or sin
Was tasting discipline,
Tray bear in mind that every slnxl-j
whack
I herewith lay athwart your aching
DUCK
Hurts me ten times as much as it does
you. -
Eaoh stinging slup of all the twenty-
VWO
Is like a hundred lushes unto me
And pains me grievously."
His roars he stayed, and to the damp-
rnru noor
The tears that he'd been shedding ran
no more.
"Is that true, father, dear?" he cried
with glee,
His squirming ceasing quite percep
tibly. "1 grieve to suy It Is. my lad," I cried,
As lustily the hair brush I applied.
"Each whnck of this small hair brusti
gives me puln
The like of which I hope that ne'er
again
I'll have to suffer." Whereupon the
child
RlKht sweetly smiled.
And then he thus apostrophized me
'I'op. If that's the cuse I beg you will not
stop,
But lay It on as hard as you know
how
I rattier like It now."
John Kendrlck Banna In Success.
Kurt Ohedleupe.
A lady stuying in a hotel was fright
ened by a noise like that of a person
running about In a room over the ono
tvhe occupied. In "How to be Happy
Though Civil," the Rev. E. J. Hardy
tells tho story:
The noise wen on at Intervals for
two nights, and then changed, as if
tho occupant on the floor above had
gone mad and was' skipping about. The
lady did not believe In ghosts, but elm
was afraid of them, so she asked the
proprietor to Investigate the mystery.
It was a sick foreigner obeying tho
Imperfectly understood directions of
an Enyllsh medical man. "Take the
medicine two. nights runulng, then
skip a nlKht."
The Hrnxon.
Guest at a rcatuuiant Excuse me,
sir, can you let me come to the tele
phone? You have been there tweuty
minutes without sawing a word.
"Sorry, sir, but I'm talking to my
wife." Pelo Melo.
When a man makes a lot of money,
the people look at him aa If to gay,
"Now what share of that do you in
tend to gl to rvrx wife's Ma?"
"THEY SHALL NO
"They shall no more go eut," O ye
Who speak earth's farewell through your tears,
Who see your cherished ones go forth,
And come not back through weary years;
There Is a place there is a shore,
From which they shall go out no more.
"They shall no more go out." O ye
Whose friends have Journeyed farther yet
Whose loved will not return again
For all your pleading or regret;
They wait you at the sheltered dnor
From which they shall go out no more.
No chariot wheel rolls from those gates',
No bridled steed Impatient stands.
No stately caravans move forth,
To cross through silent desert lands,
No swelling sail, no dropping oar.
Rejoice! They shall go out no more.
-Kate Tucker Goode.
The Hand in
For more than an hour Michael Con
nor had not raised his eyes from his
work. HIb head and shoulders were
bent over the broad slab of marble.
His hands gripped the heavy Iron in
got that ground the face of the stone
and his arms, bare and sunburned to
the elbows, moved back and forth with
a steady sweep, ills Jaws were set and
his face, broad and freckled, was now
so dark that the yellow-red hair above
it, clinging damp with sweat, seemed
more than ever flame-like by contrast.
Tho morning was not yet old. On
the garden and farther down the hill
side on the western sloie of the val
ley the spring sun shone warmly. A
mile away and a thousand feet below,
the sunlight was reflected from the
narrow, winding river, and on its bank
the gray-green foliage of the olivo trees
glistened, while all along the way the
tender green of vines and shrubbery
marked the early season. Only the
pines here and there, on the sparsely
wooded descent, were dark shadows.
From the window of the little stone
house, but a few steps from the .open
shed where ho worked, the mother of
Michael watched him silently. Many
times had she paused In her labor to
glance toward her son, and now she
leaned against the wall and studied
his moody expression, the heavy, re
lentless force of his movements. He
had beeij used to whistle cheerily as
he shaped and polished the marble
slabs, but there was no longer joy or
even content In him.
The mother came out, a corner of
her apron turned up over her hand
and arm and raised to shade her eyes
for the sun. She sat upon a rough
block of marble near him. Michael
saw her, but he did not check the
monotonous fsweep of his arms.
"You give yourself no rest, Michael,
my .son," she said, her voice soft and
wistful. In the years gone it had
been perhaps more gent', but it was
yet one to persuade and win. There
was in her appearance little sugges
tion of relationship to the broad-shouldered
young man. Celtic, the son;
Latin, the mother, for her skin was
olive though faded and worn, her dark
eyes still liquid and eloquent.
"I've no time for rest." he answered,
his look averted. "The stone Is prom
lael Meltzer, at the meatmaket, to
morrow. It Is still to be polished,
and when done it roust be put on the
truck ami be dragged three miles to
the town." His voice was full and
deep, but there was a complaint in
the tone.
"Yet a day more would not put him
to loss. He has bought and Bold for
years without the stone."
"It Is promised, and he shall have
it." Michael deftly scattered a hand
ful of white sand upon the marble,
flooded It with water from a basin
resting on a convenient shelf and
again pushed and swung the iron
smoothlng-block.
"So did your father toll," urged the
mother. "He w;ould not rest. With
his drill and hammer, and with blast
ing powder, he took from the moun
tain side the stones that made this
house. From the first corner to the
last, walls and roof, it Is his making.
Here the marble ledge he opened, and
for the church and the chuehyard, for
the shops of tho town and even for
the palaces of the rich In the city a
hundred miles away, he wa3 ever cut
ting arfd grinding. His eagerness for
gain was greater than his strength.
We have him no longer, you and I.
And you are like him."
Michael hesitated for a moment. His
eyes turned down the valley. The
churchyard of which his mother spoke
was on the way toward the river.
Among the trees the spire of the
church could be discerned. "Five
years and more now," he said, "I have
tried to do his work."
"No son could have done better."
"There was a need." His lips closed
In a hard line.
"All our wants are mory than satis
fied," went on the mother. "My sons
are good to me."
"There is still need that I should
work." The man spoke of himself
with a stress of Impatience.
"Ah, I know what you will not say.
It Is because Florence has no love for
the stone cutting. He goes from us
often, but It Is not In Idleness. With
his violin he earns money, and h
brings It to me. I keep it lor him n.)
I keep for you tho pay you have for
the marble. Were there need, his
money would be for you and for me.
So long as we have health, you and
he aud I, ho long can; there be un
want that we shall foel."
"I wish I was like him, then." sail
Michael. "He sees the pleasures of
the town. The singing, the dances,
the nights of merry -making. But for
me, tonely work up here on the moun
tain, and when the night conns I am
too tired to go to the town. Better
If my father had built his house far
ther down, where we mlht have had
a vineyard, and olive trees and tigs."
"Your father knew little of vines
and trees. He was a Btone cutter,
as you are after him. His own work
kept his thought and his strength.
Here he brought me when we were
both young, aud herti he died. His
tons grew up here,, and the spot should
be dear to them. Forgive m, Mi
MORE GO OUT."
the Moonlight
chael, I know It Is dear to you, and to
your brother, too. But there are other
thoughts in your heart. Put down
your work 'for a day and rest. Go,
seek young friends for a time. I am
old and can find pleasure in the mem
ory of the years gone by. You ar
young, and your look is forward."
"Florence has not. been home for
three days." Michael shot a quick
glance from under his brows at his
mother's face as he spoke.
"He will come to-day. Perhaps not
till nightfall. When he went away he
told me. But soon, Michael, we shall
not have him with us. Soon he will
make a home nearer the town."
"He will leave us?"
"Yes, do you not know? For him,
and for Lulsa."
The work stopped now. "Lulsa!
Does he say he has her promise?"
Michael's face grew darker still, and
his sinewy arms ridged with the tight
ening of his grip on the iron, though
it did not move.
They will be married as soon as
he can nrake a house ready for her."
The mother looked away now, but her
voice betrayed no knowledge of the
thrust her words had given.
"It Is not " the man's voice be
gan with fury, but faltered and broke.
He straightened his bent shoulders and
passed his hand across his forehead.
Twice he turned and started away.
but at last he returned to his place
and bent doggedly over his work. "I
' . tiSssm.r ..,,11 :..y ' vj f
iOB 1IIM, MUSIC AND PLAT.
wish him Joy of her!" he growled.
"She was easily won. What Is it to
me! For him, music and play, and
quick earnings. Now a wife. For me,
work, and no friends."
"There are more than one of the
young women who would be glad to
have your love, Michael, my son, if
they could win It. But you are shy
with them. Florence, blame him not,
is more like my father's people. He
is ever smiling and talking, and mak
ing merry. Long ago he chose Lulsa,
but he would not tell her till he had
more money. She wants to live near
her father's house. Now it is all ar
ranged. It had been Florence's secret,
even from me, until tho morning he
went away."
"Let him keep his secrets. But It
would have been more honest to let
his brother know his will. Am I noth
ing? Have I no share in the affairs
of our family?" Michael's face was
dark no longer, but red and angry.
"Peace, Michael. You know you aro
the head. Florence asked me to tell
you. He will bring Luisa here to-night
that we may say to her how welcome
she will be as his wife."
"He will bring her here? No! They
shall not. If they come, I will never
cross its threshold again. She she "
Again his passion choked his voice.
He bent his head upon his arm, and
his shoulders heaved with the emo
tion that conquered him.
The mother smoothed his hair with
a caress. "Michael, do not fear to
let me read your thoughts," she said.
"It was sorrow for me to see that
both my sons looked after the same
woman. I would have changed It if
I could. But Luisa knew It not. You
never spoke of love to her. She did
not dreum of it. Hold no bitterness
against her. Do not meet her with an
angry face. Choose another for your
Belf. There are many."
He was still silent when she slowly
turned! and went Into the house.
In a little time he took up his work
again. As the hours went by he la
bored steadily, with vigorous move
ments, never raising his bead. At the
noon hour he rested only long enough
for a hanty luncheon, spread and
served with special care by his mother.
He spoke no word, and she could not
choose any that would help him.
Bcfoie the afternoon had worn uway
the Btcne was finished. With much
lilting and sleight of management, un
aided he let It down from the trestles
and set It upon Its edge on the low
truck built for carrying such loads.
He was hardly conscious of the effort
required to place It In the shallow,
cushioned trough at the side of the
rude carriage, and to fasten It lightly
against the triangular rack that held
It In an Inclined position safe from
jar or jolt on the mountain road. Lean
ing one shoulder to the load, he pushed
the truck slowly forward on the beaten
way a doxen steps, till It stopped clear
of the shed and its surrounding array
of marble Pieces. Then he stood erect,
looked once at tbe shed where be had
--.:"iri.--...
mm
worked, at the low stone cottage with
red geraniums banked at the side and
a tangle of nasturtiums at tbe corner,
and pulling his shapeless hat down
over his eyes, turned and strode away
by a side path toward the ,wooded
depths of the valley.
The shadows gathered close and cool
In the lower reaches before the last
rays of the sun left the little house
on tho meuntaln Bide. Often as the
day drew to a close, the mother came
to the door or the open window and
scanned anxiously the openings where
the winding road showed as it climbed
the heights. Her eyes had caught no
glimpse of a moving figure when the
sunset glow had faded. A little later
the full moon came up from behind the
Sierras far off to her left, and a flood
of radiance bathed the sombre walls of
the cottage and made fantastic shad
ows before the familiar objects of the
dooryard. Still the mother waited,
lonely hut patient.
Half a mile away, on a mat of dry
needles' in the gloom about the trunk
of a low-limbed pine, lay Michael Con
nor, tormented in heart and brain. Ills
misery seemed more hopeless as the
darkness thickened about him. Hours
he had lain where he had thrown him
self, with no thought but of his loss,
his years of silent worship that had
gone for nothing, his brother's suc
cess and promised Joy. Envious he
had been since they were boys togeth
er, but not altogether without com
fort. In strength, in height and weight,
even in the schoolroom requirements
of their youth, he had always ranked
the younger; but the lightness and
grace, the ease of speech, the art of
making friends, the gift of drawing
from the violin the sweetest, saddest,
gayest music, were possessions of
Florence alone. He had been proud of
this darker, handsomer brother, though
with a soreness at his heart, through
the years that had seen them grow
slowly apart. Now the Irreparable
break had come, and almost without
warning. Not only separation, but a
deeper hurt. Victory In love. The one
woman who should have known his
adoration, who Bhould have waited his
approach, had never given him more
than a passing thought, but . had
thrown herself into the arms of tlfe
brother who had everything else Worth
having.
It seemed to Michael that life coulJ
hold no darker hour. Yet, before the
night was over, and for weary years
thereafter, he would have called back
the ache of that struggle with unut
terable joy.
On the shadows of the night a girl
ish voice broke suddenly with laugh
and chatter. Michael heard and raised
his head. Again came the music of
tones he knew tob well, and thl time
he distinguished a lower, graver ac
companlment. He held his breath that
he might miss no sound, however
faint, and waited. The mountain road
was but a few paces away. Along that
path came a happy pair, arm in arm
Florence and Luisa. From his hiding
place Michael could not see them, but
he could mark their progress. They
passed him going upward toward the
cottage.
Long the miserable listener Bat with
bowed head and fiercely clenched
hands. At length he arose and fol
lowed the two up the road. Here and
there along the way the moon struck
down through the leafy recesses and
silvered his worn, toil-stained gar
ments, but his face was white even in
the deepest shadows. He reached the
home clearing just as the pair, still
arm In arm, paused at the door of the
cottage, and he saw them enter and
heard his mother's voice raised In the
greeting.
Jealousy and envy clutched his
throat and almost stopped the beating
of his heart. Irresolutely he wavered
for a moment, then he went cautiously
forward, passed around the house and
crouched at the corner by the nastur
tium vines, in the broad shadow-cast
by the marble slab resting on its car
riage. From within came the mur
mur of voices. He could distinguish
them his mother's, gravely tender;
his brother's, loudest of all, gay, al
most boastful; Lulsa's, shy, now, but
clear and musical. Their words he
could not always catch.
He drew nearer the window, inch
by inch. Upon the stone sill, drooping
over the edge In the moonlight, was
a long slender hand. Michael thought
he knew It. To hlra it was the hand
of Florence, the hand whose magic
with the violin bow won all hearts,
the hand which had stolen the richest
prize in the world.
A wave of mad hate swept over him.
His shoulder touched the marble slab,
and as be leaned against it he felt
It tremble with his convulsive effort
to be silent. As a lightning flash
iignis me say ior a moment, so a
fiendish desire darted across his con
sciousness. He threw his weight
against the stone and It rose and fell
forward across the w'ndow and upon
the hand hanging over the sharp-edged
sill. With the grinding shock as it
struck the wall came a piercing
scream, a woman's cry of agony.
Michael stood, exposed for an in
stant in the full radiance of the night,
and in that instant he saw his moth
er's face, white and drawn, framed in
the open window. He met her eyes,
big with anguish, gazing straight into
his. Then he turned and for the sec
ond time that day plunged down the
path into the wooded valley. And aa
he ran, panting with sudden terror, of
he knew not what, his threat of the
oily afternoon came again to his
lips, and he muttered, over and over,
"I will never cross its threshold
again."
Wanderers come back by force of
some Inner mystery. So Michael Con
nor came back, after years. More than
once he had sailed into the bay of San
Francisco, and each time he had
looked north and east toward Jhe
mountain home a hundred miles dis
tant. At last he left his ship and
afoot retraced that last fearful land
journey. The little town was changed
less than ho had imagined. Beyond,
a mile or more, toward the heights,
the road passed a frame cottage with
many roses in the yard, and an acre
of thrifty vines Burrouuded it. Two
dark-haired children played In the
shade of a pepper tree near the door.
From the bouse came the sound of a
violin. Involuntarily the wanderer
drew near the gat and looked in. He
was In rough seaman's garb, and a yel
lowed beard, grizzled with white, cov
ered his cheeks and chin. He feared
no recognition.
But from the open door rose a shout
with the sudden ending of the mu
sic. A lithe,- still boylBh figure came
running to the gate.
"It Is Michael, my brother, the saints
be praised."
For a moment the two men Blood
claaped, heart to heart, then the
younger spoke again: "Would that
our mother could greet you, but she
Is at rest. She knew that you would
come. This was her message for you.
and times beyond counting she bade
me give it to you in the first moment
of our meeting: 'Michael, my son, and
best beloved, for your father's eyes.
Glad am I that you were far nway
when I was stricken. You were my
right hand for years, and so would have
been.' Those her very words. You
may not understand till I tell you
how sadly she was wounded two days
after you went away. But not till you
have rested. Come In." San Fran
cisco Augonaut
AS SOME STUDENTS WRITE IT.
Skelelona In Spelling Cloact lt
rented In Kmamlnatlon Papera.
"He sat In the hot Bon" now wasn't
that a terrible affliction to come to a
professor In the University of Michi
gan in an examination paper? Or how
would you like this: "His heart was
filled with whoe"? Isn't that enough
to stop even a heart?
These skeletons in the spelling closet
of several of the prominent famllle
represented lh the different Engineer
lng classes were recently laid bare 1
a written examination given by H. A
kenyon before a meeting of the School
masters' Club, says the Ann Arbor cor
respondent of the Detroit Journal. Mr.
Kenyon told the story In an address
entitled, "Some Wild Spellings I Hava
Met."
It seems that the students of the
University of Michigan can do other
things better than they can spell. Mr,
Kenyon cited other Instances where
English as she is "writ" was terribly
disfigured. For instance, many of th
same sixty-four papers contained the
word "weary" spelled "werry." This
examination occurred two months ago
and there Is still one word in the
papers that Mr. Kenyon is studying
over, the word "myslly." Before the
end of the year, if Mr. Kenyon Is un
able to study it out, lie is going to beg
the student to tell him Just what he
really did Intend that word to repre
sent. Four sets of examination papers
were handled by Mr. Kenyon at thd
close of the last semester. Three of
these sets were final "quizzes" and tha
students writing these papers repre"
sented all classes in the engineering
department, a majority of them under'
classmen. Out of sixty-four papers but
three were written without errorsi
Others ranged from one to twenty-fouf
misspelled words. Good students mad4
as many as from six to twelve mis
takes each, In spelling. In all theri
were 233 mistakes made in the sixty
four papers.
The speaker classified the mistakes
thus: Mistakes due to carelessness,
analogy or ignorance; misapplied; due
to faulty articulation; mistakes due to
an attempt at elegance; use of similar
or similarly pronounced words,' correct
themselves, but Incorrectly used; orig
inal phonetic spelling; really original
spelling, which could not be placed iq
any of the above divisions.
FROM CRADLE TO THE GRAVE.
We Are All, Stalra German rrofenl
or, In a Stale Of Hrpnotlani
That we are all, each and every oni
of us, In a state of hypnotism front.
the cradle to the grave la the rathe
startling theory which a soted Ger(
man professor of Gottingen, M. VeH
worn, by name, has established to his
own complete satisfaction at leasti
How the world of science will looli
upon the professor's latest doctrine li
yet to be determined but, at any ratel
he works it out logically enough id
the following way:
All our thinking life, hie says, ha
for its foundation in our brain thrf
suggestions put Into it by our child'
hood's educators. And what aro thesii
suggestions? Nothing else, according
to the professor, than conceptions
which are artificially put' into our
minds without their being in any way
subject to the mind's critical controL
They are adopted by the mind with
out any of that reflection to which we
subject our ideas in after life. We are
in short hypnotized, for the essence Of
hypnotism consists in suggestibility,
the capacity, namely, for being im
posed on by suggestion.
Thus "a very large part of our cor
rect and Incorrect conceptions, of our
knowledge and prejudices has been In
stilled in us in childhood by the pro
cess of suggestion, and out of habit
we never ask ourselves when we are
grown up whether what we have
learned as children will stand the test
of criticism."
Religion and political beliefs are
cited by the professor as Instances of
the results of this early and lasting
hypnotism. He even descends to sue;,'
lowly instances as those of yawning;
and Itchiness, the yawn of the behold
er being, he considers, due to mere
suggestion, and it being only neces
sary to mention a certain insect with,
which Fldo and Tabby wage war con
stantly to cause a decided uneasiness
to affect the listener.
Fanujr fur Her.
A New England lad was Intently
watching his aunt In the process of
making pies and cake. He seemed
very much inclined to start a conver
sation, an inclination, however, which
the aunt in no way encouraged. She
continued in silence to assemble tha
Ingredients of a mammoth cake.
"Tell me something funny, auntie,"
finally ventured the boy.
"Don't bother me, Tommy," said the
aunt. "How can I when I am making
cake?"
"Oh, you might aay, 'Tommy, have a
piece of the pie I've Just made.' That
would be funny for you."
When a child dies, the father does
not seemingly take it as hard aa tha
mother, but in a short time every ono
begins to notice that be U looklnf
old.
If you chew tobacco, do you reall
bow much of a nuisance you aret
a
n