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HALFWAY
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A STORY OF THE PLAINS
BY K. HOt'UH. At T1IQR OH T1IK STOHV Of TUli COW MOV J
Ci riehttd, 1303, i y V. AtHttfii C Cam.tiif, Atw Yvrk A
tMiwWaMHMte
CHAPTER XVI.
The Halfway House.
"Miss Ma'y Ellen." cried Aunt Lucy,
thrusting hor head In at the door,
"oh, Miss Ma'y Ellen, I wlsh't you'd
como out ycr right quick. Thcy's two
o 'them pral' dogs out yor a-chaaln'
ouoh hens agin nasty, dirty things!"
"Very well, Lucy," called out a
voice In answer. Mary Ellen arose
from her seat near the window,
wnence she hnd been gazing out over
the wide, flat "prairie lands and at tho
.blue, unwinking sky. Gathering each
a bit of Btick, she and Aunt Lucy
drove away the two grinning daylight
thieves, na they had done dozens of
times boforo their kin, nil eager for a
taste of tills now feathered game that
had come In upon the range. With
plenteous words of admonition, the
two corralled the excited but terror
stricken speckled hen, which had been
the occasion of the trouble, driving
her back within the gates of, tho In
closure they had" found a necessity for
tho preservation of the fowls of their
"hen ranch."
"It's that samo Domineck, isn't It,
Lucy?" said Mary Ellen, leaning over
the fence and gazing at the fowls.
"Yess'm, that same ole hen, blame
her fool soul! She's mo' bothcr'n
she's wuf. We kin git two dollahs
for her cooked, an' seems like long's
she's erlive she bound' fer ter keep
mo chasln' 'r6un' after her. I 'clare.
she jest keep the whole lot o' ouah
chickens wore down to a frazzle, alio
trnipsln 'roun' all the time, an thorn
a-follerln' her. An', of co'se," she
added argumentative!', "we all got to
.keep up tho reppytation o' ouah cook
in'. I hain't ask these yer men a
dollah a meal not fer no lean ole hen
wif no meat ontoe her bones no,
ma'am."
Aunt Lucy spoko with professional
pride and with a certain right to au
thority. Tho reputation of the Half
way House ran from the Doublo Forks
Drove away the two
of tho Brazos north to Abilene, and
niuchof the virtue of tho table was
dependent upon the resources of this
'hen ranch," whosd fame was spread
abroad throughout tho land. Saved
by the surpassing grace of pie and
"chicken fixings," the halting place
chosen for so slight reason by Huford
and his family had become perma
nent abode, known gratefully to many
;travelers and productive of more than
a living for those who had estab
lished it. It was, after all, tho finan
cial genius of Aunt Lucy, accustomed
all her life to culinary problems, that
had foreseen profit In eggs and chlck
,ens when she noted tho exalted joy
Iwlth whfch the hungry cow punchers
fell upon a meal of this sort after a
season of salt pork, tough beof and
Dutch oven bread.
At first Major Buford rebelled at the
thought or Inkeeping. Ills family had
kept open house before the war, and
he came from a land where tho
thoughts of hospitality and of price
were not to be mentioned in the samo
day. Yet he was in a region where
each man did many things, tho first
that thing which seemed nearest at
hand to be (Mine.
From the Halfway House south to
the Red River there was nothing edi
ble. And ovor this Red River there
camo now swarming uncounted tbu
sands of broad-horned cattlo, dri.v'ii
by many bodies of hardy, sunburned,
beweaponed, hungry men. At Ellis
le. now rapidly becoming an im
portant cattle market, the hotel ac
commodations were more pretentious
than comfortable, and many a cow
man who had sat at the board of tho
Halfway House going up the trail,
would mount his horso and ride back
twenty-five miles for dinner. Such are
the attractions of corn bread and
chicken when prepared by the hands
of a real genius gono astray on this
much miscooked world.
, Thus the little Southern family
quickly found Itself possessod of a
definite, profitable and growing busi
ness. Bnford was soon able to employ old
In making his improvements. He
constructed a large dugout, after the
fashion of tho dwolllng most com
mon In the cofmtry at that time. This
manner of dwelling, practically a roofed-over
cellar, its side walls showing
but a few foot anove the level of the
oarth, had boon discovered to bo a
ery practical and comfortable form
of living place by those settlers who
found a region practically barren of
"Vj i ill II fvyJvKxfcw I ti llKjiw w
AT THE
HOUSE
llltlll
timber, and as yet uiiBupplied with
brick or boards. In addition to the
main dugout there wns a rudo barn
buiic of sods, nnd towering high above
the squat buildings rose iiie frame of
the ilrst windmill on the cattle trail,
a landmark for many miles. Seeing
these things growing up about him,
at tho suggestion nnd partly through
the aid of his widely scattered but
kind-hearted neighbors, Major Huford
began to take on heart of grace. He
foresaw for his people an Independ
ence, rude and far below their former
plane of life, it was true, yet Infinitely
better than a proud despair.
It was perhaps the women who suf
fered most In tho transition from
older lands to this now, wild region.
The barren and monotonous prospect,
tho high-keyed air and the perpetunl
winds, thinned and wore out the
fragile form of Mrs. Huford, This
Impetuous, norve-wenring air was
much different from the soft, warm
winds of the flower-laden South. At
night ns she lay down to sleep she
did not hear tho tinkle or musjc nor
tho voice of night-singing birds, which
in tho scenes of her girlhood hnd
been familiar sounds. Tho moan of
tho wind in tho short, hard grass was
different from its whisper in tho
peach trees, and the shrilling of the
coyotes made but rudo substitute for
tho trill of the love-bursting mocking
bird that sang its myriad song far
back In old Vlrginln.
One day Aunt Lucy, missing Quar
terly Meeting, and eke bethinking her
self of some of those aches and pains
or body and forebodings of mind with
which the negro is never unprovided,
became mournful in her melody, and
went to bed sighing and disconsolate.
Mary Ellen heard her voice uplifted
long and urgently, and suspecting the
cause, at length went to her door.
"What Is it. Aunt Lucy?" she asked
kindly.
"Nothln', mam; I jess rasslln' wif
thor throno o' Grace or I'll hit. We
grinning thieves.
all po' weak sinners, Miss Ma'y El
len." "Yes, I know, Lucy."
"An' does you know, Miss Ma'y El
len, I sorter gits skeerod sometimec,
out yor, for fear mer supplercaslmns
ain't goln' take holt o' heaven jess
right. White folks has one way er
prayin", but er nigger hain't pray
erlone no, mam, jess kaln't pray
erlone."
"Now, Aunt Lucy,"" said Mary iT.ien,
sagely, "there Isn't anything wrong
with your sotil at all. You're as good
an old thing as ever breathed, I'm
sure of that, and the Lord will re
ward you If o ever does any one,
white or black."
"Does you think that, honey?"
"Indeed I do."
"Well, sometimes I thinks the Lord
ain't goln to fergivo me fer all ther
devilment I done when I was I'll, You
know, .Miss Ma'y Ellen, hit take a life
er prayer to wipe out ouah transgrc
ehuns. Now, how kin I pray, not to
say pray, out yer, In this yer Ian'?
They ain't a chu'eh in a hunderd mile
o' ycr, so fer's I kin tell, an' they
shoh'ly ain't np chu'eh fer cullud folks.
Seems to me like, ef I c'd jess know
er single nigger, so'st we c'd meet
onct in er while, an so'st we c'd Jess
kneel down togetheh an' pray com
fer'ble like, same's ef 'twus back In
olo Vehglnny why. Miss Ma'y Ellon.
I'd bo the happiest ole 'ooman ever
you did see."
Mary Ellen rose and went to hor
room, returning with her guitar. "Lis
ten, Aunt Lucy," she said; "I will
play and you may sing. That will
make you feel better, I think."
It V.as only from a perfect under
standing of tho negro character that
this proposal could come, and only a
perfoct dlguity could carry it out with
grace; yet there, beneath the iloor of
the wida-prairle sea, those strango ex
orcises were carried on, the low
.hrobblng of the strings according
with the quavering minors of tho old
tlnia hymns, until Aunt Lucy wiped
her eyes and smiled.
"Thank yer, Miss Ma'y Ellen," she
said; "thank yer a thousand times.
You shoh'ly does know how toe com
fort folks mighty well, even a pore olo
niggor."
On tho morning following Aunt
Lucy's devotional exorclsos that good
soul scorned to bo altogothor happy
and contented and without any doubts
as to her future wolfaro. Mary Ellen
was out in tho open air, bonnetloss
and all a-blow. It was a glorious, sun
ny day, the air charged with some
essence of ilnl stimulur. Tall and
slmpely, radiant, not jrt twenty-throf
years of ngr. and mistress of earth's
best blesRluK. perfect health how
could Mary ICllen be and?
Chick - chick - chick - chlckeo!" sho
called, bending over the fence of tl
chicken ynrd. "Chick, chick, cliic'i!'
"I'll bo tlmh fi-ffkly wit thei ten .
Miss Ma'y ICIIcn " called out Auiii
Lucy from tho kitchen. And" pres
ently she emerged and joined her
mist rean nt the corral.
"Aunt Lucy," said Mary Ellen, "do
you suppose wo could over raise n
garden? 1 wns thinking. If wo had a
lev peas, or beans, or things like that,
you know "
"Ub-huli!"
"And do you suppose a rose' bush
would grow a real rie bush, over
by the side of the house?"
"Law, no, chile, whut you tnlkln'
'bout? Nolhln' hain't goln' to grow
yer, 'leas'n hit's a little broom conn,
or some o' that nlfahifew, or that aoht
it things. Few beans might, ef we
wortered 'em. My Inn!" with a sud
den Interest, as she grasped tlto
thought, "whut could I git fer right
fralsh beans, real string beans, I does
wondeh! Sakes, ef I c'd hov string
beans an' tipple pics, 1 shoh'ly c'd
make er foh'lune, right quick. String
beans why. law, chile!"
"We'll have to think about this gar
den question some day," said Mary
Ellon. She leaned against the corral
post, looking out over the wide' ex
panse of the prairie round about. "Are
those our antelope out there, Lucy?"
she asked, pointing out with care tho
few tiny objects, thin nnd knlfollke,
crowned with short black forking lips,
which showed up against tho sky lino
on a distant ridge. "I think they must
be. I haven't noticed them for quite
a while"
"Yass'm," said Aunt Lucy, after a
judicial look. "Them blame I'll goats.
Thass uni. I wish't they all wuzn t so
mighty peart un' knowln all thor
time, so'st Mnjah Buford he c'd git
one o' them now an' then fer to eat.
I 'member mighty well how Cap'it
Franklin sent us down er quarter o'
an'lope. Mighty line moat, hit wuz."
"Er Mihs Ma'y Ellen," began Aunt
Lucy presently, and apparently with i
certain reservation.
"Yes?"
(To be continued.)
WHERE HE GOT THEM.
Little Boy's Explanation Embarrassed
Cencrous Teacher.
At rccoss one morning little Nathan
Garowski withdrew to a corner and
wept, and the heart of his pretty
teacher was moved with compassion.
"What's the matter, Nathan?" sho
Inquired gontly. "Why don't you play
with the others?"
Nathan looked up with dimmed
oyi's. Dust and tears mingled on his
brown f heeks. Ho pointed mutely to
his skirt nnd then broke Into a roar:
"It was the dress of Rebecca. Me
mud dor no money has for buy me any
ting. I nct'er havo tho troii3er. and
tho children the children they stick
nut tho fingr on me, and make a
laughs. They call me call me a
gl-gitl."
"Don't mind them, dear." said Alice
Harmon with sympathy. "They shall
not laugh at you long. I will get you
a coat and trousers, too."
Sovcral days later Nathan appeared
in the glory of a now suit nnd strutted
about basking In the ndmlring glances
of those who had despised him. His
cup of pride was filled to overilowlng
when the superintendent came in with
the principal for a visit of inspection.
Nathan, well in tho foreground.
glanced at his garments and looked
at the strangers for approbation.
"Why, little boy, what a fine pair ot
trouserri!" said the superintendent af
tably. "Whero did you get them?"
Nathan drew himself up to his full
height, and outstretched his hand In
tho direction of his beloved teacher.
"I got them off her," ho announced.
"I got them off Mls3 Harmon."
Then Alice Harmon, with tho blush
of confusion ou her fair face, ex
plained: "Tho the children on tho
East Side always say 'off' when they
mean 'from.' " Llpplncott's.
GOT THERE AT LAST.
President's Messenger Long Delayed
by Senatorial Courtesy."
One of the prerogatives of a United
States senator is that when ho steps
aboard an elevator In tho senate wing
of the capitol he Is carried immedi
ately to his destination, no matter in
which direction the elevator may bo
bound or who may be aboard. Three
rings of the bell Indicato that a sena
tor wants to ride, and tho conductor
loses no time In responding to tho
call.
Ono day last week Mr. Barnes, tho
assistant secretary to tho president,
stepped aboard a senate elevator
trom the ground iloor. In a portfolio
under his nrm ho carried a message
from the president of the United
States to the Congress.
"Senato Iloor," said Mr. Barnos, as
the conductor shut tho door.
Just then there were three rings of
tho bell and the Indicator showed that
r. sonator wnuted to bo lifted out of
tho terrace Tho elevator wont down
instead of up, and Mr. Barnes wont
along. The sonator in tho terrace
only wanted to go to the ground floor.
As ho stepped off, however, there was
another senatorial ring from the tor
race. Tho sonator wanted to go to
the gallary Iloor, and the elevator
wont there without stopping. As tho
car started down thore wcro throo
rings from tho ground floor, and again
the enr failed to stop at the destina
tion of tho president's secretary. For
tunatoly for Mr. Barnos, this senator
wanted to got off at tho senate floor,
and tho congress, vaf ter long delay, re
ceived the message from the presi
dent. Washington Post.
A LAST CENTURY VALENTINE
"Emily prone-it this little trifle to
ono who she regards." More than
seventy-five yours ngo Emily took up
hor quill pen and In dainty characters
wrote tho dedication on the fly leaf
of "Friendship's Offering." In spite of
her bnd grammar n glance at tho fad
ed and delleuto writing with It ft quaint
flourishes nnd aristocratic nuglos is
enough to prove that Emily was a
fine young lady and that she rifiilly
meant at least a llttlo more than sho
said.
Poor Emily! Her lilies nnd rosos
nro long withered, along with tho
other flowers which bloomed In the
reign of King George IV., to whose
"Most Evcellent Mnjcsty" the llttlo
morocco bound volume is dedicated.
And "ono who sho rogards" has
gono also with the rest. Wore they
married one day Emily nnd "ono
who sho regards"? Or did Emily dlo
early of a broken heart, perhaps?
Her handwriting looks as if sho
might have easily fallen a victim to
some such old fashioned malady. And
did "one who she regards" lenvo Emily
behind and come to the States to seek
his fortune? Certainly in some way
the book which Emily gave him as a
valentine In J82ti found lt,s way to
this country and, passing I mm hand
to hand, finally turned up on the stalls
of a llttlo second-hand book shop In
the French quarter of old New Or
leans. Tho little book Is spotted with
brown and yellow -now; Its morocco
cover Is badly marked and torn. But
for tho sake of tho unknown but denr
and dainty Emily ns well as for Its
own It shnll bo cherished hereafter
and given such caro as Emily herself
might wish for "tho little trifle" which
perhaps told a tender secret to the
unnamed man who was Its original
owner.
"Friendship's Offering" Is a fat and
sturdy little book of nearly -ton pages.
It was handsomely and well bound, as
Is proven by the fact that oven to day
it makes a gay show witli tho gold
rosebuds and scrolls stamped on its
back. It was ono of that great crop
of annuals which people of good con
dltion were wont to send to their
friends on tho recurrence of New
kYear's and St. Valentine's days.
We do Eiich things differently now,
Instead of a volume of 400 pages
stuffed with stilted verses and tragic
tales written by as many lords nnd
Ladles nothing less than Esquires
being admitted under any clrcum
stances we send to our friends a gay
enrd stamped out of colored paper by
a machine. And we pick up this old
volume of "Friendship's Offering" and
laugh as we look over the tnblo of
contents.
But poor Emily's long forgotten
love nffalr Is not the only nnclont
momory revived by a glance at tho
llttlo book. Burled In its table of con
tents nre tho names of twenty peo
ple who In their day wore famous as
literary lights, but who havo long
sinco flickered out Into oblivion.
Who remembers Monn, Eliza, Caro
llno and tho rest, whose 'Legendary
Stanzas," "Romantic Tales," and
"Lines to a Wreath of Dead Flowers"
moved Emily nnd her sisters of the
1820s to tears? Who remembers Ber
nnrd Barton, the Qunker poet and
friend of Lamb? Least of all, what
modorn reader would follow him ns
for half a dozen pages or nioro he
"Treads with slow and mournful steps
the loved and lonely shore?" Lord
Byron died less than two yenrs before
this volume of "Friendship's Offer
ing" was printed, and it Is pretty full
of newly found verses by his Lord
ship. Mr. Washington Irving sends
some verses by his lato Iordshlp,
? "nvlrnntnil liv lm fnntlnmnn frnm tlin
album of Captain Mcdwln," nnd It
only needs a glance at the first line
"Bo It so wo part forever" to recog
nize tho true Byronlc flavor.
Lady Caroline Lamb, who had been
separated from her husband tho yenr
before, and whose Intrigues with I.ord
Byron wero still familiar, "extracted
from her album" another sot of verses
by his late Lordship, tho perusal of
.which at this date is likely to provoke
a smlio of nmusement they nro so
typical of tho strained and grandilo
quent poet.
In all tho emphasis and extrava
gance of Italics and capital letters,
Lord Byron implores Lady Caroline to
let him go and. Lady Caroline appar
ently takes a malicious pleasure In
printing tho verses by way of showing
that tho poet was much in love with
her.
Slnco pi 111 tlio vulturo tears my heart
I,ot me tills iiRuny rnilnre,
Not tbo O! doureHt us tliou art!
lu merry Clnrn, lot us pari!
Who is writing poetry of this kind
iw And If such nootrv wero writ-
-iLXt?
now
ten, who would read It?
There Is ono papor In "Friendship's
Offering" which might well furnish a
text for some ono who Is anxious to
accuse Dr. Connn Doyle of plagiarism
In the creation of Sherlock Holmes.
The paper Is by the late "Richard Lov
ell Edgeworth Esq.." father of the
hotter known Maria Edgeworth. It
is called "Stage Coach Physiognom
ists" and relatos how ono of tho pas-4
songers was able to tell tho full life
history of all his fellows by simply
noticing such, bits of gesture, man
ner or apparel as hnvo since guided
the famous detective in his amazing
dlscoverlos. Sherlock at his best was
nevor moro observing or more aston
ishing than this casual coach passon
gor who traveled tho same way moro
than fifty yoars boforo him.
I E. L. Letltla Ellzaboth I-nndon
whose pon name Is moro familiar
than her writings, was then, lu her
111 IIV
MW'Wl''fll,
early twenties, and contributed half
a doen ti of verses in heroic style.
Nor wns "Friendship's Offering" with
out names which nro well known even
now. Miss Mltford has a sketch, "Tlio
Lady of Beachgrove," full of old-fashioned
sentiment and ladylike mystery.
Perhaps the best remembered tilings
about Miss Mltford is tho fact that
when she was only ten years old she
drew a prize or'$l()0.000 In a lottory,
nnd that after hor fnther had squan
dered hor money sho supportod him
for yenrs by tho earnings of hor pen.
Robert Southey, then In nls prime,
hnB n long poem In the fat, llttlo book,
nnd Miss Jane Porter, whoso "Scottish
Chiefs" nnd "Thnddeus of Warsaw,"
had already been printed, Is ropreaont
od by a melancholy tale.
Mrs. Ople mourns through a couple
of "Epitaphs Tor Frlonds," nnd mod
est T, Hood Esq., hns an odo on
autumn, quite like tho similar efforts
of young poets before and since his
time. T. Hood Esq. wnn not yet thirty
years old when "Friendship's Offer
ing" was printed. Ho had recently
left the engraver's trade for literature
and hnd hardly begun as yet to malro
a unme for himself in his new line.
Doubtless if tho "Present Editor"
could havo foreseen that his modest
contributor was to write "Tho Song
ot the Shirt" and "Tho Bridge of
Sighs," nnd tho other poems which
havo made him fninous, "T. Hood
Esq." would hnvo boon given moro
prominence In the tablo of contents.
But the "Present Editor" Is not
Jtoir & AA-MYtfSnJy'aBBBBJc aaV Akfctf t VaBBTVVrSBSBBBL9BBBBBBBBBBPBpiHvBEBBBBBBBBB
"LOVE'S WHISPERS" Bouguereau.
tho only man who has made such a
mistake.
Plentifully sprinkled In among the
professional poets and literary men
and women aro my 1-ords and Ladles.
Not for a inomont doos the "Present
Editor" forget that ho Is editing a
volume of the "gentry and nobility,"
to whom his work Is dedicated. Tho
lit. Hon., My Lord Dillon, has some
bad vorses on "Spnin" In tho iJyronlc
mantior, and My Ixird Dorchester Is
given several pages for a sad and
silly apostrophe to an "Astrologer."
"Friendship's Offering" Is Illustrat
ed with three or four ancient stool
engravings, representing such classic
scenes as ".'Eneas and Dido," views of
Ispahan In Porsln, and illustrations
"" "'f IIK',,n.? "nBn;" ...
AU ,n aU- Emily a was a valontine
well worth having. Since she wrote
her quaint dedication on its flyleaf
two English kings and one queen have
died, nnd tho fourth monarch ils now
on tho throne. Whnt Valentino of
the prosont year will bo as woll worth
looking over in 11)75?
Character of Day Changing.
Good St. Valontine Is rapidly bolug
-transformed from tho patron snlnt of
loving hoarts Into the hood of a gift
enterprise. If he keeps up the pace
oatabllshod for him this year ho will
toon rival St. Nicholas.
It seouis only yester-year since tho
ar.-oroiiH swain gave expression to
his feelings in bnrning words, hidden
In the depths of pnper lace and Impos
sible cuplds, Now tho npproach of
the nffectionate old saint's day finds
the young man's thoughts, It not his
fancy, turning toward violets at ad
vanced prices, bonbons In extravagant
rcceptncles and gifts quite out of tho
old fllmplo spirit of the day.
A faslilntmble shopkoeper insists
that tho vogue of valentine gifts Is
largely a matter of evolution, and that
for several ycsri they hnvo been pro
lug moro general, more personal aid
moro expensive. A young man who
usually Is satisfied with sending the
object of his admiration flowers, bon
bona or books, now selects a gift that
will show relations of a more intimate
nature. Fiances, especially, let their
Imagination and their purse-strings
run riot.
4 KEEPS UP CUSTOM
1 OF THIRTY YEARS
Jffiv$J94tflr0tfff)lfc
Big valentines nnd little valentlnns,
fat valentines nnd thin valentines,
whlto vnlentlnos nnd red valentines,
cheap modest llttlo valentines nnd
proud nnd costly valentines every old
kind or valentine dangled from
shelves nnd lay heaped on counters,
while a half dozen clerks wore busy
attending to tho rush of Sf. Valfi .a"'a
day,
There was. tho yn-n g rtm with one
bond on monoyin 'w? - $ t buying a
whlto $ LUG vnjentli e, w th eyes riveted
on a rod ?3 creation. c. urly, he wish
ed he could nfford tho red. In a cor
ner, looking uneasy, wero two young
women discussing animatedly a heap
of pink nnd blue valentines.
Unnoticed by the crowd Inside tlm
bhop, a concli drew up to tho curb.
It was a most pretentious "turnout,"
with coachman and footman in livery,
with a pair of restless bays nnd with
shining harness mounted heavily with
glUtonlng eilver. The footman
jumped to tho sidewalk as quickly as
his tight-fitting buckskin breeches per
mitted and opened tho coach door. An
old man, a very old man, alighted and,
resting on his cane, made for the
front door of the valentine shop.
None noticed the newcomer. Every
ono was busy with his own affairs.
But the owner of tho shop saw tho
customer, greoted him pleasantly anil
led him to a chair. A valentine tho
old man wanted. The proprietor
seemed to know his man. A whlto
satin box long and wide, was produced,
and within lay what was likely the
most gorgeous valentine ever sent In
New York. It was brilliant crimson,
gold mounted and in tho contre of tho
pillow, in oil, was a landscapo, an
epiblem and an inscription which the
writer, from afar,.could not make out,
Evidently tho old customer was
ploased. For some minutes ho gazed
admiringly at the costly piece, then
closed the box, smiled approval and
left the shop, followed by a clerk car--ylng
tho bo to the coach.
"What does an old fogy like that
no with a valentine?" was asked.
The proprietor did not take kindly
to the question, "That old fogy has
been coming here ever since I opened
this store, thirty yenrs ago. The
old fogy Is ono of the wealthiest men
In this city. The old fogy regularly
orders his valentine three montli3
ahead of time and pays as much for
them as many a bank clerk earns in
a month. And when a woman lias
lived faithfully for thirty years beside
a man. ihe old fogy thinks she's en
titled at least to one Valentino a year."
And the quostionor know he had
touched a soro spot of the old fogy's
friend. Now York Press.
