POISON ENOUGH
• .TO KILL 80,000
Th»t Quantity, or About 60C
Ounces, Sold by Sioux City
Druggists Annually.
MORPHINE MOST POPULAR
Plow Dope Fiends Are Mad* and How
Druggist* Fegr Helping Suicide*
to Accomplish Their Purpot*
—New Law Liked.
Ateux City Tribune:
’■TeJr* a shot. It’ll ginger you up.”
'M i dst the rattling dice and the whlr
*tng machine* of the Fourth street
gambling houses along in the ''woozy"
hours of the morning, when energy Is
ebbing and Interest In the game Is
posting dollars to the gamblers of less
endurance, this Is the advice often giv
en. It’s the phrase that means a hypo
dermic injection of morphine pr cocaine
«r some other opiate which for n time
permits the over-wrought gambler to
■forget his weariness and temporarily
Stay In the game.
"The gamblers are as a class, "dope
fiends,” said a well known Sioux City
druggist who has occasion to observe.
"Not only are they fiends, but they
teach young fellow* the habit. When
gome of the young sports get lifeless
with dissipation the old gambler will
«ay, 'take a shot. It'll cheer you up,'
and then hand over the cocaine."
More than 600 ounces of deadly poi
gons or enough to kill 80,000 people Is
bought by Sioux City people In a year.
According to an estimate of a local
druggist The larger share of this Is
purchased by dope fiends, as the
Amount which enters Into physicians’
firescrtptlons Is small In comparison to
he amount purchased by the dope
fiends. Morphine Is used the most free
Jty. it being estimated that 325 ounces of
-that drug are taken: cocaine and its
preparations are second with 150 oun
ces, strychnine. 26 ounces and arsenic
kbout 10 ounces. A large amount of
corrosive sublimate is used in surgical
Operations, to wash wounds, sterilize
instruments and kill germs.
sime tne advent oi cocaine as an
Anesthetic some fifteen years ago, a
train of devotees has followed In Its
wake with such Increasing numbers
that most stringent laws have recently
been enacted against Its sale. Not a
druggist tn Sioux City will sell It ex
cept under a doctor's prescription, yet
the dope fiends get it Otherwise they
will be liable to serious entanglements.
The law passed by the Iowa state legis
lature two years ago forbids Its sule
under any circumstances except a doc
tor’s prescription. The hospitals for
the Insane have been taxed to their
limits the past few years, with Inebri
ates addicted to the use of this drug.
It attacks the delicate nerve tissues of
the brain and excites them us does no
other drug. It came into use as a
medicine for the eye and ear. When
used In a prescription for the eye or ear
It Is In a solution of five grains of co
•calne to one ounce of water. One
tenth of one-half grain Is the amount
•usually administered hypodermically,
while two grains Is the limit.
Horne addicted to Its use will place a
little quantity on a stick and suck the
•stick as do the snuff-users of the south,
while others will use It as they would
tobacco. A number of so called ca
tarrh remedies are mostly cocaine, and
many of the fiends use these continu
ously. These they can buy when the
real unadulterated article Is not to be
bad.
There are regular opium dens In
•Sioux City In some of the resorts ten
anted by colored people where original
packages of opium direct from the
joints In Chinatown, San Francisco, can
be purchased. Its users In Sioux City
Are said to be negroes.
Morphine flends are said to be fewer
•thou formerly. This Is due to the care
fulness of the physician In Its preaertp
•tlon, and to ths fact that It Is more
■commonly administered hypodermical
ly than otherwise. But in the oper
ating room or as a deadener of pain In
these days of* numerous accidents and
surgery there Is nothing which will
take Its place. The mode of admin
istration now Is almost always hypo
dermic, since in that way It gets Into
the blood Immediately and does Its
work more quickly.
Sioux City druggists are suspicious of
•buyers of poisons. When any one of
•the deadly poisons Is asked for, the ap
plicant Is required to sign a register
and give a satisfactory explanation for
demanding it.
“A woman came Into our store one
•night not long ago very much agitated"
•♦Id a Fourth street druggist. "She
Asked for prussic acid, one of the most
•deadly drugs known to the profession,
dike was wild-eyed, exclt and her
face showed the marks of dissipation.
1 asked her what she wanted It for
•and she gave a lame excuse. I told her
ere didn't have any of It In stock. I
-then admonished her that It was a
deadly poison and could not be bought
In any drug store. I often see that
woman on the street now. I wonder It
•be is glad she coudn’t get that prussic
acldr
Arsenic, generally regarded by the
Salty aa a comparatively mild drug,
.yet known to the profession as one of
the most deadly, one-ilftleth of a
grain being the ordinary dose and one
twelth being conslderated dangerous, is
a favorite with the deml-mondes. It
has a peculiar way of puffing out the
hollow places In the face and about the
•yes and whitens the complexion. Its
■users' become addicted to tt and chronio
diseases often develop as a result,
oftentimes the patient dying In great
agony from an overdose. It attacks
tissues and causes them to slough away.
It Is the medicine ordinarily used by
the dentist to kill the nerve of a tooth.
Dentists also use cocaine, but with
■ great caution.
Soma college athletes are becoming
■strychnine fiends, but Its use In Sioux
City Is not common. Strychnine, one
of the deadly poisons. Is a great heurt
.■stimulant and athletes are often able
to win through Its stimulation. The |
•winner of the broad Jump at the recent I
Iowa state field meet Is said to be a
•devotee of this drug. A trainer in one
of the big colleges of Iowa is also one
Its advocates.
Just what the criminal uses for
knock-out drops Is a puzzle to the drug
gists, although most of them believe It
tto be chloral hydrate. A physician in
prescribing this drug seldom puts In
■more than twenty grains. The crimin
al uses fifty to eighty for knock-out"
drops, and 120 grains if he wishes to
kill. The stuff ts usually given to the
victim in an Innocent looking drink.
With the physicians and pharmacists,
• certain amount of the deadly poisons
is recognized as entering into a pre
scription and should a doctor send a
prescription to a drug store with mote
than the ordinary amount of the poison,
he Is immediately called up by the
pharmacist and asked about it. In
Sioux City as In other cities, strychnine
•Alsrs into more than fifty per cent, of
the doctors’ prescriptions. The Increase
In nsrvous troubles has brought about
an increase in the use of strychnin#
for there fs nothing which will stimu
late the heart as it will and It will save
a dying person where other drugs
would fall. One sixteenth of a grain Is
close to the maximum dose of this
drug.
Next In the list of most commonly
used poisons comes morphine, which Is
used In case of accidents to deaden
pain, and In surgical operations. It
Is almost always used hypodermically
and very seldom as a medicine. With
the conscientious physician It Is usually
the last resort as a medicine. Bella
dona extract 1s used as an antidote to
morphine poisoning and vice versa.
! Not more than one-twentieth of a grain
of morphine Is usually given while
half a grain 1s considered a large dose.
Borne of the fiends are said to be able
to take thirty grains without danger.
Carbolic acid, well known and used
for many purposes, is one of the most
deadly poisons. When taken Internally
it causes the most painful death, burn
ing and scalding the mouth and throat
like so much molten metal. It is fre
quently used by suicides because it is
easy to get, but they do not realize Its
awful effects before taking It. Recent
ly laws have been enacted hedging its
sale. One peculiar attribute of this
acid Is that one-third of its quantity
mixed with the same amount of alcohol
will render it harmless.
Down in stricken Florida and other
southern states quinine Is the great
staple drug. Druggists buy it by the
carload and everybody uses It. It is
the great antidote for chills.
| In the well regulated drug stores of
Sioux City as in other cities is a poison
i case in which all the deadly poisons are
i kept In colored or specially marked bot
tles. This is a precaution against any
carelessness in prescriptions for when
ever a pharmacist goes to that case he
realizes that he is dealing with life and
i death. Beales of great sensitiveness
are used, responding to the weight of
one sixty-fourth of a grain.
As he spoke a cold sweat had gath
ered on his forehead, his pathetic eyes
expressed a haunting fear, and his ex
citement made his hands tremble.
"My dear father, you need have no
fear for me, when I play I always know
when to stop."
"You may not always be able to con
trol yourself."
"I have never been carried away like
that; as you know, X have a cool head,"
said Max self-confldently. “It Is true,
that night when I played with Goffe—”
He hesitated as some sudden thought
flashed on him, then turned abruptly
away.
“For God's sake,” the count im
plored, "remember my words and take
my warning. Don’t gamble, whatever
you do, don't gamble."
Max was staring from the window,
his brows contracted over eyes that
looked out on the terrace with Its vines
! creeping round marble balustrades, and
i on the park with Its undulating sward,
I Its patches of golden gorse, Its clumps
j of majestic trees, of all of which he was
unconscious; for he saw only the dark
| and tragic picture that rose In his mind
i and held his pained attention to Its de
tails.
It was only after seconds that seemed
hours that he was able to release him
self from the spell that held him, when
with a gasp of the breath, like one suf
focating, he rushed towards his father,
held him In a farewell embrace, and
hurriedly quitted the room on his way
to the trap which was to carry him on
the first stage of his eventful Journey.
CHAPTER XIII.
IN PARIS.
When, after a rough passage In the
channel, Max reached Parts in the early
morning, drove through Its Just awak
ened streets, he felt like a man who had
been roused from bad dreams to realize
that he was free from fear and danger.
All his late restlessness running into
new channels, roused and made him
feel delight In his present surroundings,
which had for him all the charm of
novelty, all the exhilaration of gaiety.
Historic sights, grand old churches
and treasures of art were to him noth
ing more than places that chilled him
by their somberness or bored him in
sufferably.
Therefore he avoided the galleries of
the Luxembourg and the vast halls of
the Louvre, with their Incomparable
treasures of pictures and statues, their
relics of a royal race and Jewels that
had crowned monarchs.
His enjoyments lay In other direc
tions. He appreciated the dainty din
ners served to him in the most fash
ionable restaurants; and he afterw-ard
delighted to smoke the choicest cigars
in cafes blazing with lights and filled
by Joyous crowds of the gayest people
in Europe. He promenaded the boule
vards, drove in the Bois, visited fresh
music halls each night in succession,
and danced at the Moulin Rouge with a
spirt that rivaled the most vivacious.
lie had spent a week in Paris, when
one evening, having finished his dinner
at a famous restaurant, he was slowly
sauntering down between rows of little
tables, with their group of chattering
diners, when his eyes fell on a young
man seated alone, a puzzled expression
j on his face, as he bent over his menu
; card. Max immediately recognized him
as Lord Surreymore, eldest son of the
| Marquis of Badrington. They had been
| at Cambridge together, but had not be
' longed to the same college.
Max had not exchanged a dozen sen
tences with him in the course of their
previous meetings, but that did not pre
vent him from advancing to his ac
quaintance with a friendly smile. Sur
reymore looked up from the menu,
which he had some difficulty in under
standing, gave him a glance of doubtful
recognition, nodded his head coldly, and
in response to the friendly smile said,
"You here?”
"Thought I knew your face as I was
passing out. I have been a week in
I Paris, seeing everything; never enjoyed
myself so much," said Max glibly, add
ing. "Are you alone?”
‘‘Yes. I am on my way to Nice,
j where some of my people are staying.
This Is my second day here and I find
It rather dull.”
“Paris dull?” exclaimed Max, to
whom such a thing seemed an Impossi
bility.
Max sat down beside him with smil
ing readiness, explained the titles of
the entrees, selected the dishes for him,
Interpreted his wants to the waiter, and
made himself generally useful to him
In the space of a few minutes.
Over their coffee, their cognac and
cigarettes the names of university men
known to both were introduced by Max
by way of paving his way more effect
ually to Surreymore's friendship; and
as the latter was simple-minded, fresh
and Inexperienced, this was not difficult
to gain.
Before the night ended Surreymore
had altered his determination to leave
Paris next morning, preferring to re
main a day or two longer in a city
made so pleasant to him by his expe
rienced cicerone. And as they parted
he asked Max to breakfast with him
next morning at the hotel where he was
staying, an Invitation which was imme
diately accepted.
It was at this meal that the younger
man, who was unwilling to part with
his Interpreter and companion, suggest
ed to Max that he should go with him
to Nice.
“I have never been there, but I have
always wanted to see the place—or
rather, Its suburb, Monte Carlo," Max
confessed.
Here was an opportulnty to see the
Casino of Monte Carlo which might not
occur again for years, and then might
find him without the desire to see the
Place. He was within a few hours’
Journey of it; a journey that could he
made with a brevity, ease and luxury
that seemed to tempt mankind thither.
His father need never know he had
quitted Paris.
The Idea Intoxicated him, carried him
away. What a time he would have In
Paris with an unlimited supply of cash
to feed his Insatiable desire for pleas
ure; and what nights and days of en
joyment he might have In London had
he but the golden key which unlocks
such delights.
And having made up his mind to
take the Journey, he burned with eager
ness until It was begun; bo that two
j evenings later than that on which he
| had met Lord Surreymore, both young
j men had started by the express train
I for Marseilles, on their way to Nice
! Max got out at the Monte Carlo sta
. ; tion, while Surreymore went on a few I
| miles farther to Nice, where his mother :
, | the Marchioness of Badrlngton. was !
j expecting him. The young men parted j
as excellent friends, Surreymore prom
ising to come over and see Max later
on.
The ancient town of Monte Carlo
presents a picturesque sight. As Max
first saw it the sun had spread itself
like gold upon the seat, the violet sky
was undimmed by a cloud, and the
whole land, basking in delicious
warmth, was verdant to the shore.
But he scarcely heeded the beauty
of the place, all his attention being
riveted on the casino, the Imposing
gambler's hell, to which people of both
sexes, of all ages and every nationality
flock day by day, and year after year,
full of the phantom hope of enriching
themselves.
It was not far from his hotel and
he Immediately entered the spacious
and magnificent grounds surrounding
It.
At last he was in the casino where he
had often desired to be. and with a
feeling of self congratulation he looked
around as If to recognize a familiar
sight, but was almost surprised to find
the saloons were larger and more mag
nificent than he had Imagined.
As it was comparatively early in the
day the rooms were not crowded, but
in each there were a number of people
seated and standing at the tables de
voted to roulette, rouge-et-noir and
trente-et-quarante.
if he never played he could spend de
lightful days in watching those who
did, and entering into the spirit of their
feelings.
He wandered from room to room and
from table to table, thinking that even
If he never played he could spend de
lightful days In watching those who
did, and entering Into the spirit of
their feelings.
It was in the fourth room, seated at
a roulette table, that he saw a man
whose presence seemed familiar, and
whom he soon remembered had break
fasted at his hotel at the same time
as himself.
He played for high stakes, seldom
looked up from the table, and as for
tune flucuated with him, accepted his
gains or losses with tranquility, his
nervous excitement only apparent in
the deepening pallor of his complexion,
or the twitching of his thin, flexible
hands. Max felt his Interest center in
the stranger, whose fortunes he fol
lowed as If they were his own; when,
as if becoming aware of this, the man
suddenly raised his eyes, and recogniz
ing in Max’s face the same absorbing
passion for gambling as possessed him
self, smiled at him in a friendly man
ner.
That evening Max was seated In the
dining room of his hotel at one of the
little tables seated over the great saloon
when the stranger entered, cast a
rapid glance around, and seeing Max,
came toward him, bowed, and asked
permission to share his table, which
was gladly given.
“Have you won?” Max asked Inter
estedly.
“Only a few napoleons, nothing worth
while," came the answer, in a quiet
concentrated voice.
“This Is my first visit here; you know
the place. I suppose?”
“Yes; for years I have been here
every autumn; but this will probably
be the last time I shall come to Monte
Carlo."
"How is that?”
“I intend to make my fortune and
gamble no more."
"But if you fail?” questioned Max,
looking at this dreamer, who merely
shrugged his shoulders In reply, while
a smile flitted over his melancholy face.
"You, too,” he said after a mement’s
silence, "have the gambler’s passion.”
"I fear I have.”
"It is a curse,” he said tvearily, "and
yet so infatuated am I that I would not
be without It. If I win a sufficient sum
to keep me for some years. I will
never, ah, never, gamble again.”
Before dinner hud quite ended he
had began to grow feverish and rest
less; he scarcely tasted the dessert, and
continually looked at the clock. When
it struck nine he declared he must go
to the casino. Max volunteered to ac
company him.
i3ui.ii luuiiu places at tile same roul
ette table, but apart from each other.
Max at first merely ventured a five
franc piece, and when he won, hailed
his luck as a promise of what was
In store for him. And In this he was
not mistaken, for when closing time
came he had close upon five hundred
pounds In his pocket.
Nothing could exceed his glee, for
he now felt quite sure that he would
make his fortune before he left Monte
Carlo. His excitement was hardly
damped on hearing from the Pole that
he had lost three hundred pounds, a
statement made by him while his mel
mcholy smile lit up the ravages of his
weary face.
Next day Max was Impatient until
the casino opened Its doors, through
which he was one of the first to pass,
determined to secure a fortune for him
self. He alternately won and lost until
iate In the afternoon, when he found
that he had parted with one hunderd
tnd fifty pounds, which he promised
ilmself to recover that evening; but
when the closing time came once more
lie had scarcely a franc left of that
imount he had gained the previous
lay, or of the balance remaining to
aim of his father's check.
So next morning he set out for Nice
to find his late companion and obtain
t loan if possible. For this purpose
ae was prepared to promise or to say
anything which could gain his ends;
for the fever of gambling heated his
alood and mounted to his brain, and
nade him heedless of all things save
;he means of gratifying his passion.
Surreymore was just leaving his
aotel when Max reached it. While
walking Into the adjoining garden, the
younger man noticed the restlessness
)f his visitor’s manner, but he was not
eft long In suspense as to Its cause,
:'or Max begin to tell him of his first
fight's winnings, his second night’s
osses and wound up with the point
dank request for the loan of three
rnndred pounds.
"If I win I will pay you at once—to
notrow morning," he promised.
"But if you lose?”
Max became desperate at the sug
jestlon, and In his urgency said;
"I don’t think I am likely to, but in
hat case I will pay you within the next
six months, when I have married the
leiress to whom I am engaged. If you
want it before that time, my father, the
I'ount Masslnl, will pay you; he has
plenty of money, you know."
Surreymore credited him with speak
ng the truth, yet he hesitated about the
sum asked.
"Three hundred pounds-" he be
jan.
“Your hotel proprietor will cash a
■heck for you; It’s not so much. I i
night win It In flften minutes. Sur
eymore,” he burst out suddenly, sto*i- J
ping in the path and facing hts com
panion, "if you don't lend me this
! money, by - I'll shoot myself.”
Surreymore turned pale and then
said:
I "I think I can manage it. Come with
: me to my rooms.”
At dinner that evening Max and the
Pole, who shared his table, were In
I high spirits. Neither had much appe
' tite but both drank freely.
"It will be all or nothing with me
tonight,” said the Pole, his wistful eyes
aglow. "I feel as if I might do some
thing great, break the bank, perhaps;
who knows," and he told stories of
; men who had made vast fortunes in
few hours at the tables.
So exhilarated did Max feel that he
almost danced on his way from the
hotel to the casino, where, without loss
of time, he began to play, winning and
losing alternately, while his pulse beat
high, his heart leaped, and the glare
of light, the sea of faces, and sounds
of voices confused and maddened him.
When he had lost the last franc he
had possessed he rose and staggered
through the throngs, away from the
pitiless, curious eyes, from the laughter
of this hell, and went out Into the cool
gardens, smelling of orange trees and
violets, and musical with the splashing
of fountains. He could hardly realize
that he was penniless. But on suddenly
turning down an alley he came upon a
procession whose sight froze his blood,
and fascinated him so that he could not
move until it had passed. As it did,
the light of a lantern carried by one
who bore a lifeless figure showed him
the face of the Pole, white as marble,
save where one temple was splashed by
blood.
CHAPTER XIV.
A CONVERSATION.
One gray and gloomy afternoon, late
in October, Dunstan Burbage was
seated in a great chair beside a wood
fire in one of the smaller rooms of Had
ley Manor.
Throughout his Illness, while his
harassed mind wandered over the
events of the past, from his childhood
upward, and rested with agonizing per
sistence on the late tragedy, he had
been carefully watched and tended by
Veneto and his servant Matteo. As he
had boasted, the Italian was skilled in
medicine and understood his patient's
case; and to his knowledge of herbs,
unknown to, or ignored by, the English
medical faculty, the fever-stricken man
probably owed bis life.
And not only did Veneto fail to sum
mon a doctor, but he likewise neglected
to announce Dunstan's Illness to the
Inmates of Knowlesworth Hall.
So, taking it in turns by night and
day, Veneto and his confidential ser
vant nursed Dunstan, and they alone
listened to the ravings of a mind
haunted by the recollections of a ter
rible tragedy, and by the horrors of a
prison cell. It was only when reason
had established Itself and he lay lan
guid and tranquil that Roma was al
lowed to enter his room and sit by his
bedside.
However, she felt some satisfaction,
some outlet for her tenderness toward
him, in sitting watchfully by while he
slept, In bringing him the food she had
prepared, or in talking or reading to
him.
They had often talked of her country,
whose people he had learned to know
and love during the year or so he had
lived among them, while studying
chemistry in the laboratory of an
Italian chemist famous in the scientific
world.
Roma had one day, when he was well
on his way to recovery, suggested that
she should give him brief lessons, and
that they should read together the
pages of i heir favorite poet, Dante.
When Roma put away her copy of
Dante there was silence between them
for some seconds. From where she sat
she could see through the high window
the discorded clouds scurrying before
the wind like a routed army flying in
front of the enemy. The battlefield
was limitless In size and of a dull lead
color, and now and then came sounds
like the faint echoes of trumpets and
the cries of the pursued, as the breeze
distractedly tore along the common or
rushed through the tangled woods.
From the wild sky, the frighted
clouds, and the sombre earth she turned
to look at the occupant of the chair
beside her, whose sharp profile and col
orless face were distinctly seen In the
red glow of the wood fire, and she was
struck by his expression of brooding
melancholy, and the alert apprehen
siveness of his stare, like that of a man
fearful of a sight unseen by others, of
some pictured fate that rose before him
vividly and appallingly from out the
gloom and cast Us melancholy upon
him.
As with dim eyes she turned again
to watch the interminable ranks of the
routed army In the sky, she told her
self that although he had been de
clared innocent and set at liberty, a
man whose nature was so sensitive as
his would never believe himself free
from doubt of guilt In the eyes of the
world at large until the murderer of
Richard Ooffe had been discovered.
(Continued Next Week.)
A Club Woman’s Adventure.
New York World: One of the dele
gates from the far south to the Gen
eral Federation of Women's Clubs at
tended the reception at the Texas state
building at the fair recently, and a
heavy thunderstorm came up. She was
Impatient to be off, but averse to facing
a deluge. One of the commissioners
gave a guard a dollar to summon a ve
hicle for her. After three-quarters of
an hour the guard returned with a
Red Cross ambulance. The delegate
demurred, but the guard assured her
that she "only had to pretend to be a
little sick," and the thing was done.
Entering into the joke, she descend
ed the stair leaning on the arm of a
sympathetic friend. As the guard care
fully arranged the “invalid” on the
cushions he managed to whisper that
she would be obliged to go to the hos
pltal'on the exposition grounds for a
few moments, as the ambulance was
obliged to report every passenger there
first. All sorts of horrible possibilities
flashed through her mind. Suppose
they should imagine she had something
terrible the matter with her and Insist
upon an operation? Such mistakes had
been made before.
By the time she was half way to the
hospital she was as thoroughly sick as
even the guard could have desired. She
alighted white and shaking. Only fear
that she would involve everybody In
serious trouble kept her from shrieking
aloud as she was conducted into the
presence of two doctors and two trained
nurses. Her pulse was felt and her
temperature was taken, she madly in
sisting the while that there was "noth
ing the matter with her—absolutely
nothing."
The doctor shook his head gravely.
"Threatened with nervous prostatlon.”
was his verdict. “You ought to be put
to bed at once.”
Her protestations became almost
tearful and her prayers to be sent back
to her hotel were finally granted. She
was escorted to the car by an atten
tive surgeon and carefully lifted
aboard, whereupon she proniptlv sub
sided into her handkerchief.
What He Wanted.
Johnny—Mister, do you write colored
songs?
Musician—Yes.
Johnny—Write me a blue one, please.
A GODDESS IN GINGHAM
By Angela Morgan.
(C'opryright, 19m. by VV. R. Hearst.f
"I simply cannot endure It another
day, and I will not.”
When Emily Barrett reached this
decision she felt that her problem
was already halt solved.
She had been a member of her un
cle’s household only one week, and al
ready she felt the intolerableness of her
position.
Recently left alone and depentent up
on the hospitality of relatives, she had
accepted her uncle’s invitation tempor
arily until she could find some means
of supporting herself. Her proud spir
it chafed at the mere thought of de
pendence, and she would consent to
no other arrangement.
In the small town where her uncle’s
family shown as leading lights the ad
vent of Emily caused a stir.
The Barrett girls—her cousins—had
neld the Indisputable title to being the
prettiest and most popular of the city's
belles.
Emily’s coming diverted the interest
most decidedly. She possessed a dis
tinction of personality quite rare in the
community. Coming from an eastern
metropolis, she had an air and a style
tantallzingly difficult to analyze. Above
all, she was sweet and natural.
The inevitable thing happened. It
was the old story of feminine jealousy
and selfishness. The attitude of her
uunt and cousins toward her became
daily more unendurable.
"Better be a domestic in some one's
kitchen than an unwelcome guest in
the house of jealous relatives!” stormed
Emily In her heart, after an exceeding
ly humiliating experience.
That afternoon she heard a conversa
tion between her aunt and a caller—
Mrs. Truesdaie.
'T shall have to give up altogether
if I cannot find a cook,” declared the
latter. “The question grows more
hopeless each day. What Is to be the
outcome of the servant problem? The
answer seems eternities away. Why
don’t young women of Intelligence and
talent take up the study of housekeep
ing—I mean as a profession, not mere
ly as a mere accomplishment? That
is what we need.”
“Oh, but; my dear Mrs. Truesdaie!”
remonstrated Emily’s aunt, "you
wouldn’t expect girls of refinement and
education to put their talents to such
use. Really—’’
“How could they put them to better
use? Let me tell you, Mrs Barrett,
that If cooking and the other domestic
accomplishments were to be classed
with the arts and sciences and uni
versally acknowledged as such the field
would be overcrowded by our ambi
tious, Intellectual maidens, striving to
achieve honors in those branches of
learning. If I could find some really
talented, cultured girl to take into my
home I would willingly give my time to
her training. But I presume the find
ing of such a prize in this world, under
the present servant girl system is out
of the question."
Emily listened, her face glowing, her
eyes alight.
j. cun cook. sne murmured tri
umphantly under her breath. How
glad I am that I learned at home. And
I always did love housekeeping. After
all, I have a talent that I can put to
practical use: I can be independent—
I will be!"
She said as much to Mrs. Truesdale
when she called at the latter’s beauti
ful home on the outskirts of the town
the next morning.
Her aunt’s friend gasped in astonish
ment as she listened.
“You can’t mean it, Miss Emily!” she
exclaimed. She was one of the girl’s
warmest admirers. “You really can’t
mean what you say!”
“But I do,” persisted Miss Barrett.
I wish you'd give me a trial, at least.
Please grant me this much anyway.”
“It seems too good to be true,” said
Mrs. Truesdale. “I am selfish enough
to consent."
Of course, her aunt and cousins gave
vent to a chorus of hysterical screams
when Emily told them.
“You’ve disgraced us forever!” raged
Rosa, the eldest of the Barrett girls.
"The Truesdales of all people! Don’t
you know that Larry Truesdale and I—
are—-are—the greatest friends? What
In the world will he say when he re
turns from college to find my cousin
acting as his mother's cook?” Her eyes
were twin flames of indignation..
"I'm very sorry,” replied Emily. “I
had no Idea Mrs. Truesdale had a son
or that you and he were affianced—”
“I didn’t say we were, did I?”
snapped Rosa. “And I’m not likely to
be now. You’ve disgraced the Barrett
name In this town for good.”
“It's outrageous!" stormed Mrs. Bar
rett. "Ajtd you might as well under
stand, Emily, right from the start, that
we are not going to recognize you In
any way after this. You must expect
us to strike you from our list alto
gether."
"Very well. I'm satisfied," was the
cheerful rejoinder. Emily’s hat brim
hid the amused smile in her clear hazel
eyes.
The next day she be&an tvork in the
Truesdale home. From the moment her
strong young hands took hold of the
domestic machinery a magic trans
formation came over the place.
Mrs. Truesdale marveled daily at the
increasing harmony of household ar
rangements and wondered why fate had
selected her as a recipient of such
good fortune.
"It’s all too good to be true,” she de
clared. Then the Instinctive fear of
the human mind that it will lose the
prize it has won began to harrass her
thoughts.
“If I should lose Emily it would be
worse than if I had never known her.
I have grown to love her so—and I
know I must lose her some time.”
But fate had that all arranged for—
and so had Cupid. The little god usu
ally accomplishes his object when his
bow Is bent upon It.
When Larry Truesdale returned from
college and found presiding over his
mother's home a veritable divinity
whose manifold accomplishments in
cluded the choicest he had ever dream
ed of in his pictures of an ideal wife,
it is scarcely to be wondered at that
he fell headlong into love's beautiful
abyss.
Rosa Barrett fainted when she read
the announcement of Larry’s engage
ment to Emily.
‘ It’s—outrageous!" was all Mrs. Bar
rett's trembling tongue could utter.
Mrs. Truesdale’s comment was Quite
different. “It's what I hoped and pray
ed for!” she murmured, and she
blessed them both.
Putting on Style in Arizona.
Tombstone Prospector: Every symp
tom points to a tendency to spread on
style in Tombstone. Among other Ins
tincts in this direction, the boys bought
a. pair of beautiful barber pole suspend
ers and presented them to the amiabla
dispenser who shoves the amber ex
tract of cheerfulness over the mahog
any of the parlor saloon. He promptly
donned the innovation, but claimed that
he felt like 1; • had a rail fence on each
shoulder. Then, when they became
overburdensome he would unbutton
them and : : mit them to dangle in
front, but he finally got them down
tine enough to go to church in. Several
old timeis. conspicuously court at
tendants ladii the other end of the
country, i > ■ fallen into the habit ol
wearing lx lied shirts, and it looks as ij
sky-blu.' 'derails might be discarded
as a full- o- sa costume. Getting “pow»
t.iui ion. in town nowadays.
\_y V '
Couiui,y Grocer—Ezry, mark them
eggs up ter 40 cents.
Assistant—Why?
Country Grocer—A theater company
Is goln1 ter play "Hamlet" in ther
town hall ternlght.
BS
Bright Boy.
"Tommy, what piece of furniture ha«
been used for years and Is still as good
, as ever?"
"The multiplication table."
| | ..........
“Money Waisted."
" v^l
Tom—You’re very beautiful. —
suppose you get your beauty from voui
mother.
Edith—Oh! no indeed. Mamma ii
still holding on to her owu.
