22
THE OLD
Au old lane, an old gate, tin old houso by a treo,
,V wild -wood, a wild brook they will not let me b
lu boyhood I knew tbem, and still they call to me.
Down deep in my heart's corn 1 hear thoni, and my eyes
Through tear mists behold them beneath the old-time sklovjto
MId bee-boom and rose-bloom and orchard In mis arise. (j),
I hear them, and heartsick with longing Is my soul
To walk there, to dream there, benenth the sky's blue bowl;
Around mo, within me, the weary world made whole.
To talk with the wild brook of nil the long-ago;
To whisper the wood wind of things we used to know
When we were old companions, before my henrt knew woo,
To walk with the morning and watch Its rose unfold;
To drowse with the noontide, lulled on Its heart of goldj
To lie with the night-time and dream the dreams of old.
To tell to the old trees and to each listening leaf
The longing, the yearning, as lu my boyhood brief,
The old hope, the old love, would case my heart of grief. .
The old lane, the old gate, the old house by the tree,
The wild brook, the wild brook they will not let me bo;
In boyhood I knew them and Btlll they call to me.
-Madison Cnwcln.
if n 17jw ' fr. r ni 1 fv - zs
IIAT Jimmy said to me at the
picnic about having a kodak to
take a picture of My Girl and
Llttlj Son gave me an Idea. My (Jlrl
hasn't had her photograph taken since
we've been married. 1 can't see that
she's changed much, except to grow
prettier, if that's possible, but since
we have Little Bon I want a family
croup with me left out. I want a large
picture to hang on the wall In our
parlor, In a neat but not gaudy frame,
mid a little one to put In my watch.
My Girl laughed when I proposed
die scheme. She said it would bo
nice to have Little Son's photograph,
but she thought we better cut down
expenses and leave her out, so long as
I wouldn't be in the party.
"I don't want to spoil the picture,"
I protested. "Now can you, even wivn
your blind partiality, say I'm beauti
ful?" I asked her, striking nu attitude.
She looked me over with a critical
eye.
"Oh, you're not so bad," she answer
ed, pretending to be ludltferent.
I fell, disappointed. I had a sneak
ing idea she'd say something compli
mentary and that's what I wanted.
Pretty soon sho did. Sho must have
read my thoughts as she most gener
ally knows what I'm thinking, whether
I say it or not.
"Lot me take another look," she
Bald. I let her.
II or eyes were full of fun, but she
kept her face as solemn as an owl's
while she put me on parade. It took
her so long I was getting nervous, but
at last sho spoke.
"Teddy." she began, "I think you're
lovely. I low did I happen to get any
thing half so handsome as you?"
Then wo botu laughed and I felt
better, because her eyes showed sho
really liked my looks. It does a man
good to got u little home appreciation
once in a while, and My Girl is never
backward in coming forward In that
respect.
I kept on Insisting that sho should
.be In the picture with Little Son and
Anally she said she would Just to
please me so wo settled It that way
'and I was to make the engagement
with the photographer.
Talking of photographs so much re
minded me of a package of old timers
I had put away somewhere. I hadn't
thought to show them to My Girl so
I knew she had never seen them, for
Bho would not d renin of examining my
belongings without speaking to me
first. Sho's that kind of a girl. 1
hunted around among tho relics and
brought them out, and Little Son being
safely asleep, wo proceeded to enjoy
ourselves. They wero done up In pn
per that had once been white, but time
had yellowed It and tho pink ribbon
with which it was tied was soiled and
faded. Honestly, when I saw that
package, I got a shock. It looked for
all tho world like a sentimental girl's
good-by-to-lovo-forovcr. 1 don't know
where I got that pink ribbon, but there
it wan, and when My Girl saw it site
began to giggle and said, "Here Is a
cemetery of burled hopes and Joys. Old
it hurt you much; Teddy?
I smiled a feeble, sickly sort of a
smile. Koally I didn't quite know
whose pictures were In thnt collection.
Of course I'd been Introduced to other
girls beforo I met My Girl, but sho's
the Inst and best.
As It happened, my photograph, tak
en when I was n bald-headed Infant,
was the tlrst to come out. You would
HOME.
have thought It was ft gold mine, when
My Girl saw It.
"Teddy!" she exclaimed, "why didn't
you give tills to mo before? It's too
dear for words. Isn't urn sweet," she
chirped, snuggling it up to her cheek.
Then she held the little shabby card
away from her and gazed and gazed.
"You look Just as Little Son does now,
only " she hesitated as If afraid
of hurting my feelings "dou't you
think he has a little, Just a little mite
more hair?" She said this very gent
ly.
"Oh, yes," I told her cheerfully, "but
mine grow, maybe his will fall out."
"The Idea," returned My Girl; "the
very Idea!"
She put tlio picture down carefully
and lifted out the next. It was a pho
tograph of my father and mother tak
en together when they were tlrst mar
ried. "How sweet your mother was; she
must have been a pretty woman; and
your father is very nice looking, too.
Their faces show they were happy,"
My Girl said, poring over the photo
graph. "Poor Teddy," she went on,
laying her soft hand on my hair, "they
died when you wero a little bit of a
fellow, didn't they?"
"Yes." 1 told her. "I can't remem
ber them at. all. You see I was so
young 1 didn't realize what I had
lost."
My Girl seemed thoughtful.
"I can't remember my father and
mother, either; they went away so
long ago," sho sighed.
She thought some moro for a min
ute, and then she said: "Teddy, sup
pose that we suppose that Little Son
should be left alone "
She stopped speaking, and I saw
the tears In her eyes.
Now, My Girl," I consoled, "chick
up and don't bo foolish. Look at us
how strong and well wo are; does n
seem as though we would fade nwav
very soon?"
"I dou't know," answered My Girl.
still worried and thoughtful. "I don't
know."
1 put my arm around her waist and
walked her to a mirror where she
could see there was no Immediate dan
ger of our being cut off In the bloom
of our youth.
"Look at that and cheer up, My
Girl," I advised, and My Girl looked
and smiled at what she saw. Then
sho cheered right up and got the sun
shine back in her face again.
"Show me some moro pictures," she
asked, when her scare was over.
She'd been Into the bedroom to make
sure that Little Son had neither ab
sconded nor escaped, so everything
was propitious for tho next chapter
Photographs of several fellows I
used to know came out of the bunch
next. My Girl was Interested because
they were friends of mine, and she
made mo tell her everything I could
think to tell about them.
"What a lot of good friends you've
hnil, Toddy," sho observed, when 1
had told all I knew, and sho said it In
su-h an admiring way I began to have
a large and joyous opinion of myself
"Oh, there wasn't such an awful
lot." I answered, modestly.
"Yes, there was, Teddy; yes, there
was," My Girl Insisted, "and you de
served them."
We tiled those away and that left
only one more. With tho first glanci
I gave It, I knew It was the fatal
card. It was tho photograph of a glr;
I once thought was the sun, moon
stars and all tho earth, and then, pret
ty soon, I changed my mind. I don't
know how her picture got put away
with the rest, but thero she was and
My Glri had her.
"Who's the pretty lady, Toddy?" she
asi.ett, loosing at tne picture long ami
mini.
"Oh, Just i girl I used to know," t
told her In an offhand way.
"Sho has a ronl pretty faco and sho
looks like a real nice girl," sho com
mented graciously.
"Oh, she was," I returned, with
more enthusiasm than was strictly
necessary, and with more than I felt.
You see, I had forgotten to mention
her to My Girl and I wasn't sure how
she'd take 11, having the news broken
without warning. You never can tell
what these girls are going to do, and
even My Girl gets quirky sometimes,
but It doesn't last.
Sho laid the picture down with an
air of having Mulshed with It. Thinks
1 It's all over and nothing has hap
pened. I chirked up and then My Girl
mado a quick change and went back
to the picture.
"Were you very fond of her. Teddy?"
Bhe questioned.
"I liked her pretty well," l said.
beginning to whistle a tuneless tune.
"Oh, you dldl" My Girl observed, re-
llcctlvely.
I don't know why 1 couldn't have
come out and told all without any
evasion, because there was mighty lit
tle to bo told, but Instead I got red
In the face and wriggled nil over my
ehnlr, acting guilty.
"Did you know her when yon knew
me?" was My Girl's next question.
"Well, I should say not," 1 declared
emphatically. "Uer date was years and
years ago."
"Years and years ago you would
have been very, very young," My Girl
returned loftily. "What was her
name?"
I opened my mouth to speak It, but
f ,., , ,,,, fm.
, ,f
"I don't know," I finally confessed
like nu Idiot.
"I don't believe you," My Girl snld.
looking scornful.
Just then Little Son woke up and
enlled for help. My Girl walked off
with her head high and perky, and I
went out on the front porch and sat
down, mad as fury, and feeling misery.
"I never knew My Girl to be unrea
sonable before." I was thinking: "Now
what's tho use of getting excited over
nothing? I couldn't even remember the
other girl's nnme and I'd forgotten her
for years. Well," I decided, "a man
better give up trying to understand a
woman. Every one Is worse than a
Chinese puzzle."
Those were my happy thoughts.
I could hear My Girl singing around
the house, but It was the kind of sing
lug she does when she's having trouble
with her mind, and I didn't like her
manner. She kept on singing and talk
ing to Little Son, and presently I hoard
her voice growing chlrkler and chirk
lor until It sounded like the birds In
the morning, and 1 began to feel that
way myself.
"Teddy," she called, "Just: as I was
ready to go Into the house and em
brace my family, "what did you say
her name was?"
My heart dropped four feet.
"There," I thought, "It's coming
again."
Then she came to the door and I saw
the mischief in her eyes and the smile
on her lips. I got encouraged.
"I don't know, and I don't care,'
I answered recklessly. "Let's tear her
up."
"Oh, no!" said My Girl; "let's keep
her as an awful warning against Jeal
ousy. I had to laugh and so did My Girl.
The jar was over and nothing broken,
but it was sad while it lasted.
Those photographs are taken and
you should see them. There's one for
the parlor a big one, and one for my
watch a little one, and that I like the
best, for now I have Little Son and
.My Girl always with me, and they're
mine, all mine." Toledo Made.
Hook It a tees' Wisdom.
"I hitvo found a new way to a man's
heart," said tho girl who has had
three proposals this early in the sea
son.
"It is through his socks. Too stom
ach as a short cut to a man's affections
Is a regular continental railway routo
compared with the hosiery lino of
travel.
"The modern young man Is exces
sively proud of his socks. There may
bo things that he is vainer of, but I
have not discovered them. Ho exer
cises his best taste In buying them, and
he likes to have that taste appreciated,
lie gives you every chance In the
.vorld to show your appreciation. In
variably he mannges to leave a hiatus
between his shoe tops and his trousers,
and then, If you have designs on thnt
young mnn, all you have to do Is to
east sidelong but admiring glances at
the revealed expanse of embroidered
hoslorj and murmur, 'What a pretty
pattern!' and the trick Is accomplish
ed. You don't need to go into particu
lars. Ho understands. Those socks
aro the pride of his heart, and the
minute ho finds tint you admire them,
too, ho Is yours for the summer sea
son, at least."
It was a cheap philosopher who said
knowledge is power. There is really
nothing so helpless as the man who
knows nil nbout the thiol's that linn
noned ionc niro. n(i wt,0 contracted n
hacking cough in acquiring his kuowl
fuift.
Si
Honny Dundee.
'p. i... ,.r ...... .....u.... '!..,,. rn..
I " lilt IWIII.T Ul Will vllHWil VJIIl-
vor'so who spoke:
"l.'i... ll... I ..,. ..1.1.11 fll ll.
. .1 i till- ixillft n Mini ll niiuii lull u
nrc crowns to bo broke;
So let each cavalier who loves honor
and mo
Come follow the bonnet of Hnimy Dun
dee.
"Come 111! up my cup. oonie till iq my
can,
Come Hnildlo your horses, and call up
your men;
Come open the West Port and let me
gang free,
And It's room for the bonnets of Honny
Dundee."
Dundee he is mounted, he rides up the
street.
The bells are rung backward, the drums
they are bent;
Hut the provost, douce imtu, said, "Just
e'en let hhn be.
The irudo town Im wcel quit, of the de'il
of Dundee."
With sour featured wings th Grans-
market was crammed,
As if half the west had set tryst to be
huuged;
Thero was spite In each look, thero was
fear in each ee,
As they watched for the bonnets of
Honny Dundee.
These cowls of Kilmarnock had spits and
spears,
And Inng-hafted gullies to gill cavaliers;
And they shrunk to close heads, and the
causeway was free
At tho toss of the bonnet of Honny Dun
dee. 1
"Away to tho hills, to the caves, to the
roeks!
Ere I own an usurper I'll couch with
tho fox;
And tremble, false Whigs, in the midst
of your glee.
You have not seen tho last of my bon
nets and me."
Sir Walter Scott.
J. lint Niullt.
Last, night the nightingale waked me,
Last night when all was still;
It sang in the golden moonlight
From out the woodland hill.
I opened tho window gently,
And all wns dreamy dow
And oh! the bird, my darling,
Was Hinging, singing of yon!
I think of you in the day tint!,
I drenm of you by night
I wake would you wero near mo
And hot tears blind my sight.
1 hear a sigli in the lime tree,
The wind is lloating through,
And oh! the night, my darling,
Is longing, longing for you.
Nor think 1 can forget you!
I could not though I would!
I see you in all around me
Tho stream, the night, tho wood;
The Jlowers that sleep so gently,
The stars above the blue,
Oil! heaven itself, my darling,
Is praying, praying for you!
Thoophile Marziais.
THEY KNOW GOOD FICTION.
PnhllHlierH Do Not Turn Away MHS. of
Saletililc Stories.
"An Idea that does us a great deal
of Injury," said a New York publisher,
according to the Washington Star, "Is
the fool notion that publishers, as a
rule, dou't know a good, or even a
snleable, piece of llctlou when they see
It In manuscript. It would be fully as
sensible to say that men who make a
business of dealing In paintings don't
know a good picture when they see It.
"You'll often hear these Incompe
tent persons who arc skeptical as to
the competency of publishers to pass
upon books In manuscript cite that In
cident of the Hrltish barrister who
went to the prodigious trouble to copy
Sir Walter Scott's 'Ivanhoe' from end
to end, and sent the manuscript to a
famous publishing concern ns an orig
inal work, and who, in the course of
time, got the manuscript back, with
a letter from a member of the firm,
stating that the book was dull, stupid,
lnaccurato and quite unworthy of be
ing put between covers. That story
may or. may not bo true. It has al
ways seemed to me to be a heavy dose
to swallow; anyhow, If It happened
lit all, It happened In England, which
Is some few thousand geographical
miles from the United States, where
publishers are live people, If I do say
so as shouldn't.
"Hut even admitting whicii I cer
tainly do not that publishers them
selves are Incapable of passing on the
quality of manuscripts submitted to
them, whnt do we nil employ profes
sional renders for?
"It Is eusy enough to cite eases of
books Unit eventually achieved fame
that liavo been hawked nbout from
publisher to publisher nnd turned
down by ono professional render after
another. Hut what of tho great mass
of manuscripts that nro not pedaled
about thnt Instantly capture the atten
tion of the publisher nnd the approval
of the professional reader, and thnt
nro published out of hand by tho flrm1
thnt first got hold of them?
"The fact Uint publishers decidedly,
do know n good book when they sco it,
or see oven n part of It was illus
trated not so long. ago in the ense of a
novel that, after an altuosl unprece
dented sale, hns already been trnns
lated Into all of the languages of Mu
rope. Tho man wito wrote mis uooic
was following an extremely exacting
profession at the time the scheme of
the novel took shape in his head, lie
couldn't see much chance of his over
getting tho thing written, for he had
to make a living for himself and hlfl
family, and, lu these days, when a man
gets through the business of making
a living he hasn't much of a head left
for good literary effort.
"Hut he started to 'plug away' at
the novel, as he expressed It, Jotting
down pannages lu trains ami even In
cabs, any place at which he happened
to be at leisure for a whllo. In this
way be completed the first few chap
ters of the book, lie wiwin'l a par
ticularly Indulgent critic of his own
work, but the embryo novel struck
him as being a pretty good sort of n
thing. So he topk a few hours off ono
day and went to see a publishing firm
with bis few tlrst chapters In bis pock
et.
"The publisher told him to come
back on the following da- The pub
lisher read those first lew chapters,
and when the writer returned on tho
following day the contract for publi
cation wns nil rendy to be signed. Then
publisher urged the wrltci of tho fowi
chapters to resign his position and go
abend and finish the novel, and he ad
vanced the writer n considerable ptoc
of the prospective royalties to enable
him to do this. The writer adopted
the suggestion, his book was finished
Inside of three months, printed and
Immediately proved a dazzler of n sell
er. Not only was It n seller, but It was
a good piece of fiction writing. If you
will permit me to screen my blushes,
I will inform you that I was tho pub'
Usher In this Instance. Hut I am only
ono out of scores of publishers who
are on the lookout for such opport uni
ties all the time."
ON NEWSPAPER ENGLISH.
Ilr. Wood row WIIhoh'h Hcply to Hid
AhhiuiU of lluiiry Jiiiiich.
The defense of "newspaper English"
by Dr. Woodrow Wilson, president of
Princeton University, coming so close
upon Henry James' vigorous assault,
seems to be Intended as a reply to the
latter gentleman, says the Haltlmorn
Sun. Mr. .lames, lu a recent speech
In this city and elsewhere, uttered re
marks about tlte newspapers calculated
to make their ears tingle and their ar
gils eyes to stare. He calls newspaper
English an "eruption of black type,"
"hysteria," "screaming" and what noL
It cannot be denied that there Is some
occasion for this terrific arraignment
There Is also "book English," which Is
open to Hie same criticism. The lan
guage of many books Is bad, hysteri
cal, a mere eruption of type, and in
some of tliem It Is dull, Involved and
muddy. Hut It would be manifestly
unjust to apply these terms to the lan
guage of all books, Including those of
Mr. James. Dr. Wilson said:
"I think the English used lu news
paper articles Is remarkably good. It
Is generally terse and clear and right
to the point and tells In a simple way
exactly what the writer wauls to say.
It. Is most surprising to me lo under
sland how the reporters, writing as
they do so hurriedly and under such a
great pressure are able to write so
well. I can hardly comprehend it.
None need be afraid of spoiling his
taste for good Wngllsh by reading news,
papers. The articles are almost always
delightfully free from stllteduess and
trite conventionality, which Is moro
than can be said of the average colle
gian's effusions."
Hut Mr. James did not confine tila
criticism lo reporters. The editor and
the correspondent come in for thcli
share of condemnation. It is said of
Macaitlny thnt (he smooth flowing,
beautifully rounded sentences which
seem to have poured from his pen Ilka
rain from the clouds of summer wero,
lit fact, written, rewritten and revised
until thero was not room to Interline
any more. The newspaper writer has
no opportunity to do tills. The papei
goes to press at a certain hour and
there Is no time for revision. Never
theless, some of the best writers in
this or any other country have been
newspaper writers. They were good
writers, not only in the language they
employed, but In the force ami vlgci
with which they enforced their vlewc
Ono Wns an Overdose.
Hlggs You don't look well, old mnr
Are you sick?
DIggs Yes; smoked too much, to
day. Hlggs Indeed! How many cigars
did you smoke?
Dlggs One.
Hlggs Why, that Isn't excessive
Dlggs yes, but It was tho ono you
gave me last night. Detroit Tribune.
If wo visited in tho country where,
there was a cyclone cellar, we would-
n't wait for a high wind to send tu
flying to see tho preserved fruit kept)
thero.