t
| THAT GIRL of JOHNSON S
By JEAfi KATE EWDLVM.
Attiktrr o/ "At a Girl's Mercy," Etc.
Entered According to Act of Congresa in the Year 1800 by Street & Smith,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.
*— *.- aa .ss
CHAPTER XI.—Contintied.
“I hope so,” replied one of the doc
tors gravely. “It Is a severe case.”
“Yes,” young Green said. A fur
row of thought appeared on his fore
head. He stood silent a moment, his
blue eyes meeting the black ones of
the doctor, squarely, as though he
would see down into his very soul.
Then he passed from the room, noise
T'Jessly closing the door behind him.
for a moment he stood behind Dolores
poring over the books in the fire
light. She neither heard nor saw him;
she was tracing out one of the con
stellations on the map before her, her
lips were parted as though she was
smiling. The face of the watcher un
4UV>* II OI1V 111IVUJ CUUll^OO 111 IUV Oliv/l v
minute he stood there in the flickering
light and darkness behind her chairs
then he turned silently away and pass
ed out of the room without disturb
ing her. He took down his hat and
coat from one of the nails in the room
and went out into the storm as though
he were dazed by some sudden start
ling thought!
By and by, when the nurse came out
t>f the room, Dolores closed her book
slowly, as though with regret, and
gathered up her hair, twisting it about
her graceful head carelessly. The
color and fire died out of her face and
eyes as she arose to prepare supper.
But Mrs. Allen interrupted her.
“Sit still, Miss Johnson,” she said,
cheerily, “and read your book, but not
by this light; I will fetch a candle.”
She took down a candle from the
shelf and lighted it with a strip of
pine wood from the fire. She pulled
cut the clean pine table noiselessly,
and set it; she cut some thin slices of
bread and toasted them before the fire.
When they were done to an exquisite
turn, she buttered them deftly and
set them on a plate on the hearth
to keep warm. When all was ready
the nurse drew up the table and
placed it beside the fire, placing a
i a chair for her.
& “Come, child,” she said, gently.
’ The professional tone had left her
voice utterly; the girl felt a sudden
rush of tears that burned her eyelids.
They were the first she had shed in
her life as she remembered.
“It's a dreary night,” the nurse said,
cheerfully, taking no special notice of
the girl apparently. “The fire bright
ens one like a merry face. I always
have a fire on stormy days if it is pos
sible. My girl calls me Cinderella; I
will tell you about my girl; I call her
my sweetheart, her heart is so sweet.
She has no mother.
“She is an invalid,” the mellow
voice went on; “she has been an in
valid for six years, and I have been
fith her during that time. Dora is
ghteen now, and I wish you could
see her. She is like a picture; some
times I believe I love her as a lover
•would.”
Dolores knew nothing of love or
lovers, but she listened quietly. Per
haps this woman would tell her what
love was.
“Dora has gray eyes,” the nurse con
tinued. “Her hair is golden brown,
soft as silk, and long; arranging it is
Ifcne of my greatest pleasures. She
' has a beautiful home in New York, and
everything that heart could wish to
i i * i
I “It’s a dreary night.”
^tnake her happy; her father considers
her his richest possession, and he has
many possessions.
"But Dora has consumption, and a
short time ago her physician ordered
for her a thorough change of air and
recommened the mountains. Her
father lived here when he was a child,
and has a brother living here—or he
supposed he was living here; he had
not seen or heard of him since he
starts out at twelve years old to
mak'jwliis way in the world, leaving
this brother the homestead, the patch
of garden and the shop. He worked
his way to New York, now at this
thing, now at that. His life is a mar
vel to me, and Dora is never tired
of listening to him when he tells of
his life. He is a rich’ man now with
his word as good as his bond; my
girl is proud of her father, as well
she may be.
“As to his brother, he has not for
jgotten him, but he lost trace of Him;
^,/he leads a busy life with little time
Ajor hunting anybody’s brother. Long
ago, when he began to succeed, he
■wrote to his brother offering to help
-■_!' '■
him along if he cared to join him, but
the letter was returned unopened. His
brother could neither read nor write,
and had no correspondence, or else
was dead.
“As to Dora, she has had all the
teachers and masters necessary to an
excellent education; she is an ex
quisite musician; her touch on the
piano is like magic, and her voice is
soft and sweet, but she does not sing
now. Her singing used to be her
father’s delight.”
A shadow fell over the face of the
nurse, and she was silent for a mo
ment, looking into the Are with a far
away expression on her face.
X lie: UCU1UUUI UUUI up t'lltfU UUISflfBB
lyl, and she turned calmly in answer
to Dr. Dunwiddle’s summons, every
trace of emotion gone. She left the
room for a few minutes, and when she
returned her voice and manner were
quiet, as usual.
“Dora draws and paints very well,”
she said, resuming her seat and her
story; “she teaches several children
from the mission school. None of her
time is idled; she has her father’s am
bitious spirit, and her life is full of
work in spite of the fact that this dis
ease is slowly eating her life away.
“Each one of the children loves her;
she sometimes tells me, laughing, that
she has so many blessings she cannot
count them. To hear her talk one
would never imagine the nights I have
held her up in my arms that she might
breathe while she coughed her beau
tiful life away.”
Dolores leaned forward, with lumin
ous eye; for the time she forgot her
father, and the dread awaiting for the
men to come to prove the malice pre
pense in the laming of the mare. The
world of which the woman told was
outside of her world; it was the world
of her dreams.
Silence reigned in the room for a
few minutes; the nurse arose and
drew the little half curtains across
the windows. When all was arranged
for the night, even to preparing a bed
in the corner on the settee. Mrs. Allen
drew her chair up to the fire again,
and resumed her story.
Dolores' face was troubled—her
thoughts had returned to her father, to
young Green and his efforts to save
her father somehow mixed with his
words lately uttered, of love and its
sadness; and of the trial that was to
come off as soon as her father was
able to go to prove- She started
at sound of the nurse’s voice and grew
white to the lips. This did not escape
the watchful eyes of the nurse. There
was little that did escape her watch
“Dora’s father did not know whether
or not his brother was living.” she
went on. “That the letter had been
returned uncalled for, went to prove
that he might be dead; but he knew
that his brother had no friends out;
side of the settlement and was not In
the habit of receiving letters. That
he could neither read nor write still
left it possible that he was living, and
when Dora made known her wish to
come here, to see her father’s old
home, arrangements were made at
once. We arrived in the town over
the mountain yesterday. They are
stopping at Judge Green’s for the
present and Dora sent me here at
once when Mr. Charlie wrote for help.
She said it was one of God’s provi
dences; that he had arranged things
for us and were only to obey."
The interest died out of Dolores’
eyes. She knew nothing about God or
his providences; she had never heard
either except as a wandering
preacher stopped at the settlement on
his way through the moutains, and
was jeered at by the men and listened
to by only a handful of women.
The nurse leaned back so that her
face was in shadow, but so that the
girl’s face was full in her sight.
“Dora had been in the town but a
day, yet she had found out a great deal
that she wished to know. Every one
in the town has heard of your father.
Of you no one knew much excepting
Mr. Charlie. He told my girl over
and over what he knew about you;
she never tired of hearing and planned
such pleasant things for you and your
father, and knows she will love you at
once.”
Dolores’ face was full of wonder.
That any one heard of cared to hear
of her strange enough, but that Dora,
the beautiful, golden-haired, gray-eyed
girl from the midst of the marvelous
world of her dreams should love her
or wish to love her was beyond her
comprehension.
“Do you' not wonder, child,” the
nurse said, slowly, “why my girl is
so interested in you? Have you never
thought of this uncle of yours of
whom you have never heard or seen,
or wondered that he never came, or
let your father know he was living?”
Dolores’ voice was unmoved, her
eyes still gravely questioning.
“Yes,” she replied, “I think if he
is living he is happy in his life, and
prefers to leave us out.”
The nurse made a quick movement
as of indignation. When she spoke,
however, her voice was gentle, as
usual.
“Your father is not like Ms brother,
Dolores. You will not blame him
when you see him, and Dora will win
your heart at . once, as you have al
ready won hers. As soon as the storm
is over they will come. Dora’s father
is your uncle, Dolores, and they came
here on purpose to find you.”
CHAPTER XII.
Ita Effect.
A flush crept into Dolores’ face, then
died out, leaving her deadly white.
The room grew dark around her; the
roar of the storm died away—every
thing died away save the dim horror
in her heart and an echo that grew
and grew until the air throbbed and
tilled her ears deafenlngly. What
would Dora say and think if she
knew—ar.d of course she knew.
She endeavored to speak, to cry out,
to struggle with them, but she was
as one struck dumb and motionless
with the dread words thundering in
her ears weirdly their terrible mean
ing:
“Every one has heard of your
father and could tell her of him be
cause of the trial that was to come
off—the trial—trial—your father—
trial—”
“Child,” the voice of the nurse
sounded leagues away, scarcely dis
tinguishable in the roar of words
around her. “Child, what is the mat
ter? Why do you say nothing? Are
you not glad to know it?”
“Glad to know it—glad to know It—
father—trial—know it—know it—”
The girl roused against the' terror
that was holding her down. She sat.
erect, white faced, but with a quiet
dlgnty that hid the tumult within.
She lifted one hand and pushed back
the stray soft curls from her fore
head in n dazed fashion.
“Surely you have no hard feeling
toward your uncle because he has not
come to your father before. You can
r a
“Do you not wonder, child?”
not blame him. His is not like your
father’s life. You should be just, Do
lores—just, and not judge harshly.”
“His life is not like your father’s
life—judge harshly—judge harshly—”
“Your father could have been such
another man as his brother had he so
chosen. You cannot blame your uncle
for your father’s choice any more than
you can blame your father for your
uncle’s choice.”
“You cannot blame your uncle for
your father’s choice—your father's
choice—”
The words rang over and over,
around, above and below, out of which
the half scornful voice sounded fai
away.
“Dora will be so disappointed; she
has thought and talked of nothing but
plans for you. You will have all the
advantages a girl could have, and it
will be your own fault, if you do not i
Improve them. This would be the best
time, too, when your father needs per
fect rest and few around him. No :
doubt he will be glad for this chance i
for you, if you are not for your
self.” i
(To be continued.)
BRIGANDAGE IN ITALY’S HILLS, i
Standing Rewards for Capture of Ban- i
dits Seldom Paid by Government.
Brigands are constantly giving i
trouble to the Italian government, i
which seems rather strange in view of ’
the fact that rewards are assured 1
to any persons who wage a successful i
war against these law-breakers. Ac- 1
cording to an edict which dates back I
to the time when the Pope was all t
powerful in Italy, and which is still i
in force, anyone who captures a bri- 1
gand alive and who hands him over i
to justice is entitled to a reward of ]
$600; anyone who kills a brigand will t
receive a reward of $500; anyone who t
captures a brigand chief will get f
$1,200, and any brigand who betrays t
an accomplice will be pardoned for his t
past crimes and will receive $100 as
an additional reward. This last re- t
ward has seldom been paid, since <
Italian brigands are not accustomed t
to betray each other. t
\
High Living Under Charles II. i
The following was considered the e
“best universal sauce in the world,” I
in tho days of Charles II, at least
what was accounted such by the Duke t
of York, who was instructed to pre a
pare it by the Spanish ambassador.
It consisted of parsley and a dry t
toast pounded in a mortar, with vino
gar, salt and pepper. e
A' fashionable or cabinet dinner of ,
the same period consisted of “a dish j
of marrow bones, a leg of mutton, a (
dish of fowl, three pullets and a dozen a
larks, all in a dish; a great tart, a (j
neat’s tongue, a dish of anchovies, a
dish of prawns and cheese.” c
At the same period a supper dish, v
when the king supped with Lady r
Castlemane, was “a chine of beel y
roasted.” v
- d
Pennies Make Dollars. $
A church recently dedicated In St p
Paul, and costing $7,000, was paid for c
in seven-cent contributions, the nov
elty of the request bringing pennies t:
from all over the country. c
THE EXTRA SESSION
TO CONSIDER THE CUBAN
TREATY AND THE CURRENCY.
Some Questions of High importance
Which Congress May Decide to Con
sider in Connection With the Pro
posed Reciprocity Arrangement.
It is authoritatively announced by
Senator Ix>dge, as the result of a re
cent visit to Oyster Bay, that the
President has fixed upon Nov. 9 as
the day on which Congress will assem
ble in an extra session, called primar
ily for the approval of the Cubaei
treaty, which wah ratified by the Sen
ate last March, and incidentally to
act upon current legislation upon the
lines indicated in the views and declar
ations set forth in various speeches by
the President. Opinion varies alike
as to the wisdom of summoning Con
gress Into extra session for these pur
poses, and also as to the length of
time that will be required to enact
the legislation that shall carry into
effect the President’s wishes both as
to the Cuban treaty, and the improve
ment of our currency system. The
New York Tribune thinks the session
should be a short one. It says:
"The Cuban legislation indeed
should take no time at all, for all that
is needed is a simple act modifying
the tariff law in conformity with the
treaty already ratified by the Senate.
No question of detail calls for discus
sion. The simple Issue is carrying out
the treaty or not carrying it out.
Practically every member now knows
what he thinks, and the bill could
properly be brought to a vote in each
house at once. Any delay on the pre
tense of discussion merely means that
persons who want the treaty to fail,
but do not daro face public opinion in
favor of concessions to Cuba, are
nates against the sugar producers of
Germany, France, Russia, Belgium,
etc., and In favor of the sugar growers
of Cuba?
6. Are we not subjecting Cuba to
the risk of provoking retaliation when
we compel her to discriminate in fa
vor of manufactured products from the
United States and against competing
products of all other countries?
7. If the policy of protection to all
domestic labor and industry is to be
abrogated or relaxed in favor of Cu
ban compeitors, how can we refuse
similar favors to other and far more
important countries? And where and
when will such abrogation and relaxa
tion stop?
FARMERS ARE PROTECTIONISTS.
Reasons Why They Favor the Repub
lican Policy.
An esteemed Democratic exchange
says that the farmers In the Second
district are in favor of such a tariff
reduction that it will be about equal
to free trade.' Our editorial friend
knows better than that or he knotos
mighty little about Second district
farmers. He will be much wiser if he
will take a few days’ vacation from
the arduous task of guessing at public
oplonlon and go out among these
thoughtful, industrious people. He
will find that a large majority of the
farmers he meets are protectionists.
There Is a reason why farmers are
in favor of protection. They must find
consumers for the surplus products of
their farms in order to make a profit
on their labor and investment. It is
necessary that people who do not pro
duce food have employment to enable
them to buy food to consume. The
protective policy of the Republican
party is built on a foundation to en
able labor to be employed and this 1b
just what American farmers want, be
cause they feed labor. Idle labor was
tried some years ago, and the value
Ding ley Tariff Prosperity In the Month of July, 1903.
I
taking indirect method to kill it. As
the Senate has already ratified the
treaty, it may be expected that it will
vote without question to put its own
measure in operation. The difficulty,
if any is to be encountered, will doubt
less be in the House, where a determ
ined element is opposed to any closer
trade relations with Cuba from per
fectly well understood selfish motives.”
Without stopping to inquire why it
is thought necessary to ascribe selfish
motives to those who do no more than
to ask that the government and the
Republican party keep faith with them
in the matter of tariff protection guar
anteed to them by the Dingley law,
while motives of the highest potriot
ism are ascribed to those who seek
to set up the new and strange doctrine
that it is always proper to sacrifice
one industry for the benefit of another
industry, provided you can influence
enough votes in Congress to carry out
the deal—without going more deeply
into this peculiar phase of a peculiar
Question, let us proceed to consider
whether it is true, as the Tribune as
serts, that “the Cuban legislation in
deed should take no time at all,” etc.
We are inclined to think that the legis
lation necessary to consummate the
reciprocity arrangement with Cuba
will and ought to take very much more
time than "no time at all.”. The
treaty has been ratified by the Senate
and now awaits the action of the
House. Before the House can reach
a final vote on the question of ap
proval it would seem to be natural, if
not indeed absolutely inevitable, that
the Republican majority in the House
should very seriously consider and
thoroughly debate the following ques
tions, among others:
1. Is the proposed treaty constitu
tional? Does not the Constitution spe
cifically require that all legislation af
fecting the revenue shall originate in
the House? Is there a case on record
where legislation affecting the revenue
has originated in the Senate and has
subsequently been approved by the
House?
2. Does it not involve the violation
by the government of a contract of
agreement with certain producing in
terests of the United States—namely
the Dingely tariff law?
3. Is it equitable, fair or politically
expedient that the American farmers
who grow sugar and tobacco and the
Amorcian capital and labor engaged
In the manufacture of cigars should
alone be selected to bear all the bur
iens of reciprocity with Cuba?
4. Is it economically wise to dls
:ourage American sugar production,
when with the Dingely tariff duties
retained for a period of less than ten
fears that rapidly growing industry
would completely supply the domestic
iemand and retain in this country the
(100,000,000,a year now sent abroad to
say for sugar imported from foreign
roun tries?
5. Does not the United States run
:he risk of provoking retaliation and
iommercial warfare when it discrimi
I of farm products created disaster to
products.
The principle of protection is to bal
ance the price of imports from foreign
countries which are created by cheap
labor with what Is made by well-paid
labor at home. This protects the
home wage earner. If American
farmers were to depend almost en
tirely on exporting their surplus pro
ducts to feed men who are crowding
out own men out of employment by
the goods they send here, our farmers
would meet such competition that they
could not stand it and prosper. The
local demand for farm products is
what agriculturalists want, and this
demand can only be good when con
sumers are plenty and with money to
buy what they need. This condition
can only exist under protection, and
that Is why farmers are protectionists.
—Davenport (la) Republican.
The Iowa Tariff Plank.
Gov. Cummins Is inconsiderate of
the feelings of those gentlemen who
have read in the tariff plank of the
Iowa Republican platform not only a
surrender of the "Iowa idea,” but the
fine hand of Senator Allison, He
claims to have written the plank him
self, and as long ago as last April.
Thus perlshbs another little Action of
the stand-patters. As the case now
stands we have Gov. Cummins as the
convention’s unanimous choice for re
election, and an expression on the
tariff question drawn by the candidate
and unanimously Indorsed by the con
vention. Does that look like the
burial of the “Iowa idea.” If so the
"idea" Is certain to rise again. Watch
for the vote In November and see what
the people of Iowa have to say on the
subject at the polls.—Washington
Star.
The Bumper Wheat Crop.
This is a great country. Despite the
inpour of three-quarters of a mil
lion immigrants the past year,
millions of bushels of wheat are over
ripe in the Kansas and Nebraska fields
awaiting harvesters not yet in evi
dence. Bidding for help has carried
wages up to $3.25 per day with board
for farm workers, and one colored man
gets $6 a day and board, agreeing to
stack all the grain one header can
cut.
This Is a country, indeed, when its
farm hands get four or five times
higher wages in harvest than the farm
hands of Europe.
We use so much machinery in our
wheat fields that we sell wheat to Eu
rope and pay record-breaking wages
also.
Is all this in spite of the American
protective system?—Boston Journal.
For Political Reasons.
Everybody favors a protective tariff
as a means of restoring prosperity and
after it has done its work a great
many of the politicians begin to as
sault It—for political reasons only.—
Des Moines Capital.
Chinese Incubators.
The Chinese have been using lncu
baton for centuries, how many nc
man can tell. Hatching chicks by thl*
means Is a trade there, and certain
Chinamen do nothing else, at least
during the four months of the hatch
lng season. We Illustrate herewith a
Chinese Incubator seen from the out
side, and show also a cross section
of the same. Such an incubator wilt
hold from 1,200 to 1,360 eggs. The in
cubator is three feet high and three
feet in diameter. About 20 to 30 ol
CHINESE INCUBATOR,
these are kept In a single room, and
this room Is heated by a fire of char
coal. No thermometer is used, but
the heat of the eggs Is ascertained by
touching one or two to his eyeball.
Nothing Is done by rule; but the man
that takes charge of the Incubator
plant becomes very expert In the mat
ter of temperatures and has little
trouble In keplng the heat about right.
If the eggs become too hot, he airs
CROSS SECTION OF CHINESE INCU
BATOR.
them; If they become too cool he cov
ers them with warm blankets. The
per cent of hatches usually runs from
60 to 70. This Is very good when It Is
understood that It Includes the Infer
tile eggs, which are taken out and
sold after a few days of incubation.
Chicks are hatched out by the thou
sands and retailed to the villagers at
from 1 to 114 cents each. The prac
tice of heating the whole room instead .
of the incubator only is one that has
been followed to a small extent in this
country.
The Guinea Hen.
From the Farmers’ Review:—The
Guinea hen is one of the most inter
esting fowls on the farm. She is al
ways wide awake and lively, always
on the lookout for any enemy that may
appear, and when seen she is not slow
to give the alarm, which oftlmes is a
great protection to the other fowls.
Then she Is a great layer; will com
mence soon as it Is warm in sprlng.s
and will be a regular contributor to
the egg basket till fall, If not allowed
to sit. They can be raised as easily
as chickens and wh$n they are raised
with chickens they will be as gentle
as chickens. The white Guineas are.
liner table fowls than the colored ones,
as their flesh Is of a lighter color, and
their skin more yellow. I don’t think
any one could tell the difference be
tween young guinea fried and a young
prairie chicken, and an old one Is as
an old prairie chicken. When hatched
with chicken hens they have to be
shut up with a hen four or five days
•ntll they get used to the hen’s clucter
then they can be turned out and fed
the same as chickens. They are
great foragers, always on the go, and
catch a great many Insects. If they
want to go into the garden, let them
go for they will not scratch up any
thing, and are not likely to eat any
thing but insects and worms.—A. Z
Copeland, Vermilion County, Illinois
The Partridge Cochin.
The Partridge Cochin is a beautiful
yet difficult fowl to breed, and in
plumage is much after the pattern of
the Dark Brahma, the color being red
and brown, instead of the steel-grey
effect of the latter. The head of male
in color is bright red hackle, bright
red or orange red. with a distinct
black stripe down the center of each
feather; saddle feathers same as
hackle; breast and body rich deep
black; wing bows, red; primaries,
black on the Inside web, with a bay
edging on the outside web; secondaries
black on the inside web and rich bay
an the outside web, terminating with
greenish-black at the end of each
feather; wing coverts, greenish-black,
forming a well-defined bar of that
color across the wing when folded;
tall, black.
The female Is the prettier of the
two. Her head is small and of a rich
brown plumage, with a stout, well
curved beak, yellow in color. Her
eyes are bay and mild in expression,
rhe head is ornamented with a small
single comb, set perfectly straight
ipon the head and bright red in color,
rhe wattles are small, well rounded
ind fine in texture; the earlobes are
well developed and are also fine in
:exture. _
A“beard” is a bunch of feathers
jnder the throat af some breeds of
chickens such as Houdana or Polish,
