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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 20, 1908)
Sad Memories. From the Minneapolis Journal. William James, the famous phychol Oglst of Harvard, said at a dinner In Boston: "An odor often recalls to us a child hood scene. A voice brings back mem ories that we had thought burled for ever. As we regard some stranger landscape It often seems to us that wo have been there before. The oddest, the most momentous associations oft entimes attach themselves to the most trifling things. “Thus at a Thanksgiving dinner that I once attended, the hostess said to a sour-faced man oil my left: " 'May I help you to some of the boiled rice, Mr. Smith?’ ■’’Rice? No thank you; no rice for me.’ Smith answered vehemently. 'It Is associated with the worst mistake of my life.'" POLICE JUDGE WILLS. Will Gladly Answer the Questions of Any Inquirer. It la a generous offer that Police Judge J. H. Wills, of Cloverport, Ky., to sufferers from backache, kid ney and bladder Ills. Judge Wills knows the value of Doan's Kidney Pills and will answer the questions of any sufferer who writes to him. The Judge says: “I take pleasure In reeom mending Doan’s Kid ney Pills to persons •offering from kidney disorders, back ache, etc. It 4s the best remedy I have ever kno<wn and I will gladly answer any qucetibfxs about It” Sold by aft dealers. 50 cents a box. Foster-MIfomn Co., Buffalo, N. Y. Blearing the End. From Everybody’s Magazine. Joe Llncotn. whose Cape Cod folks are well known characters, recently attend ed a lecture. When asked how he liked it, be related this little story: A stranger entered a church In the middle of the sermon and seated him •elf In the bach pew. After a while he began to fidget. Leaning over to the white hatred man at his side evidently •tn old member of the congregation, he whispered: "How long- has he been preaching?" "Thirty or 40 years, I think," the •old man answered. "I don't know ex actly.” "I’ll stay then,” decided the stranger. “Ha must be nearly done." Beware ef Ointments for Catarrh that Contain Mercury, •• mereary will surely destroy the sense of smell and completyly derange the whole ays teni when entiling It through the mucous •nrfacea Such articles should never be used except on prescriptions from reputable physicians, as thy damage they will do la ten fold to the good you ran possibly derive from them. Hall's Catarrh Cure, manufac tured by W. J, CJjeuey & Co.. Toledo, 0„ con tain* no merCjAy, and la taken Internally, acting directly upon the blood and mucous surfaces of the system, in buying Hall's .Catarrh Cur^ be sure you get the genuine, lit is taken Internally and made In Toledo, Ohio, by V. 3. Chenly & Co. Testimonials free. Bold by Druggists. Pries. 75c. per bottle. Take Hall's Family Pills for constipation. a Fortune. Bello—Thay say there’s insanity In the duke's family Beesle—Wwl. I should say so! His sis ter Jilted a, plumber and ran away with a comic art)St. Very Particular. Quest—"Bring one portion of a nude tur key.” WaJter-NjiiSe turkey?” Ouest—"Ye*. Turkey without dressing." a --- Oaltmi, Onions, Onions, * "BOO ba. of Saber’s Red Globe Onion 'per aero at 80c a bu. brings $480.00. That $050,00 from 3 acres Saber’s Morning Star Cucumber is well worth taking along. 640 bn. Saber’s 12 Podder Earliest and I Beat Pea nold in the green state at $1.50 a bo. makes $000.00 per acre. Such yields Saber's pedigree vegetables stand .for. Fob 12o nnd this notice the John A. Saber Seed Co„ La ©fosse. Wis., in order to gain 250.000 dejv customers during 1008. will mail you free their great plaut and seed , catalog, thgether with 1 pkg. “Quick Quick” Carrot.$ .10 ' | pkg. Earliest Ripe Cabbage.10 1 Pkg. Earliest Emerald Cucumber. .15 1 pkg. l>a Crosse Market Lettuce.. .15 1 pkg. K«prly llitmer Onion.10 1 pkg. Strawberry Muskmelon.15 1 pkg. Thirteen Day Radish.10 1.000 kernels gloriously beautiful dower seed .15 Total .$1.00 ! Above is sufficient seed to grow 85 bu. of rarest vegetables and thousands of brilliant flowers, and all is mailed to you POSTPAID FOB 12C, or If you sen^l 10c, we will add a pack- | age of Berliner Earliest Cauliflower. John A. Saber Seed Co., La Crosse, Wla. C. N\ U. Looking Forward. Reginald— \|VIU you marry mo it I put your skate on (or you? Virginia- res, It you’ll promise never to j got a skats on for yourself. Must Ba. Bho—“Is he such a credulous chap?’’ Ho—“1 should say. Why he carries an umbrella tf the weather roan predicts snow." Only a Cold. "Only a rol<y is a common expres sion. And so the victim lets It go on, day after dny. red eyes, swollen fea tures, lassitude, sleeplessness, loss of appetite, the irritating cough. In Itself a cold may be simply un comfortable. 1u Its results It Is often fatal. Pneumonia, with Its enormous fatality; consumption, with Its deadly grip; bronchitis, asthma, these and many ailments are often the direct re ault of a cold. The patient may have had many colds. They have resulted In nothing serious. Hut when the system has be come woafceued by these repeated at tacks, when the mucous membranes are in a chronic unhealthy condition, theu It Is three fatal maladies assert them selves. There is no greater mistake than to neglect a cold. At Us first appearance measures should he taken to relieve it. At this season of the year, when coughs and colds are common. Peruna should be kept constantly In the house. At the first symptom this remedy should be taken. It will soothe the mucous mem branes, relieve the irritation, and the •cold wiit gradually disappear. That this has been the experience or many is proven by the hundreds of grateful letters lu our files. -------' ^ THF._ Story of Francis Cludde A Romance of Queen Mary's Reign. BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN. CHAPTER I. On the boundary line between th two counties of Warwick and Worces ter there is a road very famous In thos parts and called the Ridgeway. Fathe Carey used to say—and no better Lat lnist could be found for a score o miles round in the time of which write—that It was made by the Ro mans. It runs north and south aloni the narrow spine of the country, whlol Is spread out on either side like ■, map or a picture. As you fare south ward you see on your right hand thi green orchards and pastures of Wor cestershlre stretching as far as thi Malvern hills. You have In front o you llredon hill, which is a wonder ful hill, for If a man goes down th< Avon by boat It goes with him, non before and now behind, a whole day’i Journey, and then stands In the same place. And on the left hand you hav< the great forest of Arden and not mucl besides, except oak trees, which grow well In Warwickshire. I describe this road firstly, because It Is n notable one and 40 years age was the only Queen’s highway to call a highway In that country. The rest were mere horse tracks Secondly, because the chase wall of Colton End runs along the side of It for two good miles, and the Cluddes—I am Francis Cludde—have lived at Coton End by the Ridgeway time out of mind, probably—for the name sitiacks of the soil—before the Romans made the road. And, thirdly, because 40 years ago, on a drizzling February day in 1555—second year of Mary, old religion just re-established —a number of people were collected on this road, forming a group of u score or more, who stood In an ordered kind of disorder about my uncle's gates and looked all one way, ns if expecting an arrival, and an arrival of consequence. First, there was my uncle Str An thony, tall and lean. He wore his best velvet doublet and cloak and had put them on with an air of huge import ance. This increased each time he turned, staff in hand, and surveyed his following, and as regularly gave place to a "Pshaw!” of vexation and petu lant glance when his eye rested on me. Close beside him, looking Import ant, too, but anxious and a little fright ened us well, stood good Father Carey. The priest wore his silk cassock, and his lips moved from time to time with out sound, as though he were trying over a Latin oration, which indeed was the fact. At a more respectful dis tance were ranged Baldwin Moor, the Stewart, and a dozen servants, while still farther away lounged as many rag muffins—landless men, who swarmed about every gentleman's door in those times and took toll of such abbey lands bs the king might have given him. Against one of the stone gate pillars I leaned myself, 19 years and six months old, and none too wise, though well grown and as strong as one here and there. And perched on the top of the twin post, with his chin on his kaees and his hands clasped about them, was Martin Luther, the fool. Martin had chosen this elevated posi tion partly out of curiosity and part ly perhaps under a strong sense of duty. He knew that, whether he would Dr no, he must needs look funny up there. His nose was red, and his eyes were running and his teeth chatter ing, and he did look funny. But ks he felt the cold most his patience failed first. The steady, silent drizzle, the mist creeping about the stems of the oak trees, the leaden sky, proved too much for him In the end. "A watched pot never bolls," he grumbled "Silence, sirrah!” commanded my uncle angrily. "This is no time for your fooling. Have a care how you talk in the same breath of pots and my lord bishop." “Sanctae eccleslae,” Father Carey broke out, turning up his eyes In a kind of ecstasy, as though he were knee to knee with the prelate—"te defen Borem tnclytum atquc ardontein"-— “Pottum!" cried I, laughing loudlv at my own wit. It was an ill mannered word, but I was cold and peevish. I had been forced to this function against my will. I had never seen the guest whom we were expecting, and who was no other than the queen's chancellor Stephan Gardiner, but I disliked him as if I had. In truth, he was related to us in a peculiar fashion, which my uncle and 1 naturally looked at from different standpoints. Sir Anthony viewed with compla cence, if not with pride, any connection with the powerful bishop of Winches ter, for the knight knew the world and could appreciate the value It sets on success and the blind eyes it has for spots if they do but speckle the ris ing sun. I could make no such allow ance, but, with the pride of youth and family, at once despised the great bish op for his base blood and blushed that the same lay on our side. I hated this parade of doing honor to him and would fain have hidden at home with Petronllla, my cousin, Sir Anthony's daughter, and awaited our guest there The knight, however, had not permitted this, and I had been forced out be ing in the worst of humors. So I said "Pottum," and laughed. "Silence, boy!" cried Sir Anthony fiercely. He loved an orderly proces slon and to arrange things decently. "Silence!” he repeated, darting an angry glance first at me and then at his followers, “or I will warm that Jacket of yours. lad! And you, Martin Luther see to your tongue for the next 24 hours and keep It off my lord bishop. And, Father Carey hold yourself ready"— "For here Sir Hqt Tot cometh'" cried the undaunted Martin, skipping nimbly down from his post of vantage "and a dozen of London saucepans with him, or may I never lick the in side of one again." A jest on the sauelncss of Londor serving men was sure to tell with thf crowd, and there wus a great laugh at this, especially among the ladless men, who were on the skirts of tin party and well sheltered from Sir An thony's eye. He glared about him provoked to find at this critical momen smiles where there should have beet looks of deference, and a ring roum a fool where he had marshaled a procox-ion. Unluckily he chos' to^ visit his displeasure upon me "You won't behave. won’t you you puppy!” he cried. "You won't won' you!” and stepping forward he aimec a blow at my shoulders whicl would have made me rub myself if i j had reached me. Hut I was too quick 1 stepped back, the stick swung idly ; and the crowd laughed. I And there the matter would hnv i ended, for the bishop's party were not close upon us. had not my foot slippec on the wet grass and 1 fallen backward I Seeing me thus at his mercy, the temp ■ tatioa proved loo much for the kniglU He forgot his love of seetrtllness an even that lits visitors were at Ills elbow and stooping a moment to plant horn a couple of shrewd cuts cried: “Tak that! Take that, my lad!” In a voice ; that rang as crisply as his thwacks. I wan up in an instant. Not that the 3 pain was anything, and before our own r people I should have thought as little - of shame, for If the old may not lay f hand to the young, being related, where L is to be any obedience? Now, however, . my first glance met the grinning faces t of strange lackeys, and while my shoul i ders still smarted the laughter of a l couple of soberly clad pages stung a ■ hundred times more sharply. I glared ■ furiously round, and my eyes fell on one face—a face long remembered. It : was that of a man who neither smiled ’ nor laughed; a man whom I recognized Immediately, not by his sleek hackney or his purple cassock,, which a riding coat partially concealed, or even by hts Jeweled hand, but by the keen glance of power which passed over me, took me In and did not acknowledge me; which saw my humiliation without Interest or amusement. The look hurt me beyond smarting of shoulders, for it conveyed to me in the twentieth part of a second how very small a person Francis Cludde was, and how very great a personage was Stephen Gardiner, whom In my thoughts I had presumed to belittle. I Btood irresolute a moment, shifting my feet and glowering at him, my face on fire. But when be raised his hand to give the benediction, and the more de vout, or those with mended hose, fell on their knees in the mud, I turned my back abruptly, and climbing the wall flung away across the chase. “What, Sir Anthony!” I heard him say as I stalked off. His voice ringing clear and Incisive amid the reverential science which followed the Latin words. “Have we a heretic here, cousin? How Is this? So near home too!” “It Is my nephew, my lord bishop,” I could hear Sir Anthony answer, apology In his tone, "and a willful boy at times. You know of him. He has queer no tions of his own, put into his head long ago.” I caught no more, my angry strides carrying me out of earshot. Fuming. I hurried across the long damp grass, avoiding here and there the fallen limb of an elm or a huge round of holly. I wanted to get out of the way and be out of the way, and made such haste that before the slowly moving caval cade had traversed one-half of the in terval between the road and the house I had reached the bridge which crossed the moat, and pushing my way impa tiently through the maids and scullions who had flocked to it to see the show had passed Into the courtyard. The light was failing, and the place looked dark and gloomy in spite of the warm glow of burning logs which poured from the lower windows and some show of green boughs which had been placed over the doorways in honor of the occasion. I glanced up at a lat tice in one of the gables, the window of 1 Petronllla’s little parlor. There was no face at It, and I turned fretfully into ; the hall—and, yes, there she was, perched up in one of the high window seats. She was looking out on the chase, as the maids were doing. Yes, as the maids were doing. She, 1 too, was watching for his high mighti - ness, I muttered, and that angered me ' afresh. I crossed the rushes In silence , and climbed up beside her. "WeIl,”I said ungraciously as she started, hearing me at her shoulder, “well, have you seen enough of him yet, cousin? You will, I warrant you. be- ' fore he leaves. A little of him goe« 1 far.” * “A little of whom, Francis?" she 1 asked simply. Though her voice betrayed some won- ^ der at my rough tone, she was so j much engaged with the show that she 1 did not look at me immediately. This, of course, kept my anger warm, and ' I began to feel that she was In the con spiracy against me. ‘ Of my lord of Winchester, of course," I answered, laughing rudely. “Of Sir Hot Pot!” ‘Why do you call him that?” she re monstrated in gentle wonder, and then she did turn her soft dark eyes upon me. She was a slender, willowy girl in those days, with a complexion clear, yet pale—a maiden all bending and gracefulness, yet with a great store of secret firmness, as I was to learn. “He seems as handsome an old man,” she continued, "as I have ever met. and stately and benevolent, too. as I see him at thts distance. What Is the mat ter with you. Francis? What has put vnn mit?" “Put me out!” I retorted angrily. "Who said anything had put me out?" But I reddened under her eyes. I was longing to tell her all and be comforted, while at the same time I shrank with a man’s shame from saying to her that I had been beaten. “I can see that something la the mat ter," she said sagely, with her head on one side, and that air of being the eld er which she often assumed with me, though she was really the younger by two years. “Why did you not wait for the others? Why have you come home alone? Francis,” with sudden convic tion, "you have vexed my father! That Is it!” "He has beaten me like a dog!” I blurted out passionately, "and before them all! Before those strangers he flogged me!" She had her back to the window, and some faint gleam of wintry sunshine, passing through the gules of the shield blazoned behind her. cast a red stain on her dark hair and shapely head. She was silent, probably through pity or consternation, hut I could not see her face and misread her. 1 thought her hard, and, resenting this, bragged on v ith a lad's empty violence. "He did. but I will not stand It! I give you warning, I won't stand it, Petronllla!" and I stamped, young bully that 1 was, until the dust sprang out of the board3 and the hounds by the distant hearth jumped up and whined. "No, not for all the base bishops in Eng land!" I continued, taking a step tills way and that. “He had better not do it again! If he does, I tell you It will be the worse for some one!" "Francis," she exclaimed abruptly, "you must not speak In that way!” But I was too angry to bo silenced, ■ though instinctively 1 changed my ground. , "Stephen Gardiner!" I cried furious i ly. "Who is Stephen Gardiner, I should ; 1 j like to know? He has no l ight to call i himself Gardiner at all! Dr. Stephens : ho used to call himself, I have heard. A child with no name but his godfath , er’s; that Is what he is, for all his airs and his bishopric! Who Is he to look i on and see a Cludde beaten? It' my r uncle does not take care” 1 "Francis!" she cried again, cutting . me short ruthlessly. "Be silent, sir!" - And this time 1 was silent. "You un manly boy,” she continued, her face 1 glowing with Indignation, "to threaten n-.y father before my face! How dare » you, sir? How dare you? And who e are you, you poor child," she exclaimed with a startling change from Invective to sarcasm—"who are you to talk of bishops. I should like to know?" “One,” I said sullenly, “who thinks less of cardinals and bishops than some folk. Mistress Petronllla!” "Aye. I know," she retorted scathing ly—"I know that you are a kind of half hearted Protestant—neither flsh, flesh nor fowl!” "I am what my father made me!” I muttered. “At any rate,” she replied, "you do not see how small you are, or you would not talk of bishops. Heaven help us! That a boy who has done nothing and seen nothing should talk of the queen's chancellor. Go! Go on, you foolish boy, and rule a country or cut off heads, and then you may talk of such men—men who could unmake you and yours with a stroke of the pen! You, to talk so of Stephen Gar diner! Fie, fie, I say! For shame!” I looked at her, dazed and bewildered, and had long afterward in my mind a picture of her as she stood above me, In the window bay, her back to the light, her slender figure drawn to Its full height, her hand extended toward me. I could scarecly understand or believe that this was my gentle cousin. I turned without a word and stole away, not looking behind me. I was cowed. It happened that the servants came hurrying In at the moment with a clat ter of dishes and knives, and the noise covered my retreat. I had a fancy af terward that, as I moved away, Fetron illa called to me. But at the time, what with the confusion and my own disorder, I paid no heed to her, but got myself blindly out of the hall and away to my own attic. It was a sharp lesson. But my feel ings, when, being alone, I had time to feel, need not be set down. After events made them of no moment, for r was even then on the verge of a change so great that all the threats and misgiv ings, the fevers and agues of that af ternoon, real as they seemed at the time, because in a few hours as im material as the dew which fell before yesterday’s thunderstorm. The way the change began to come about was this; I crept in late to sup per, facing the din and lights, the rows of guests and the hurrying servants, with a mixture of shame and sullen ness. I was sitting down with a scowl i next the bishop's pages—mv place was i beside them, half down the table, and ^ 1 was not too careful to keep my feet clear of their clothing—when my uncle’s voice, raised In a harsher tone than was usual with him. even when tie was displeased, summoned me. "Come here, sirrah!” he cried round ly. "Come here. Master Francis! I iiave a word to speak to you!” I went slowly, dragging my feet, ivhile all looked up, and there was a partial silence. I was conscious of this, and it nerved me. For a moment , ndeed, as I stepped on to the dais, I ! lad a vision of scores of candles and ! •ushlights floating in mist, and of In- ! ’.timeruble bodiless faces all turned up :o me. But the vision and the nilsti less passed away and left only my | mole’s long, thin face Inflamed with inger, and beside it, in the same ring if light, the watchful eyes and stern, mpassi ve features of Stephen Gard ner. The bishop’s face and his eyes vore all I saw then; the same face, the same eyes, I remembered, which had ooked unyielding into those of the re entless Cromwell and had scarce 1 ropped before the frown of a Tudor, dis purple cap and cassock, the lace md rich fur, the chain of office, I re nembered afterward. "Now, boj',’’ thundered Sir Anthony, jointing out the place where I should itand, “what have you to say for your self? Why have you so misbehaved his afternoon? Let your tongue speak juickly, do you hear, or you will smart 'ox it. And let it be to the purpose, I joy!” I was about to answer something— ! whether it was likely to make things vorse or better I cannot remember— vhen Gardiner staid me. He laid his land gently on Sir Anthony’s sleeve md interposed. “One moment,” he said nildly. "Your nephew did not stay for he church’s blessing, I remember. Per- j laps he has scruples. There are peo- I lie nowadays who have. Let us hear j f it be so.’’ This time It was Sir Anthony who lid not let me answer. “No, no!” he cried hastily. “No, no! ; t is not so. He conforms, my lord; he ■onforms. You conform, sir,” he con- I inued, turning fiercely upon me, "do rou not? Answer, sir.” “Ahr” the bishop put In, with a i ineer, “you conform, do you?" "I attend mass—to please my uncle,” ! replied boldly. "He was ill brought up as a child," Sir Anthony said hastily, speaking in a one which those below could not hear. ’But you know all that, my lord—you mow all that. It Is an old story to rau. So I make and I pray you to lialce, for the sake of the house some illowance. He conforms. He undoubt ;dly conforms.” (Continued Next Week.) Iceland’s Education. From National Geographical Magazine. | There are no schools in Iceland, yet every child at 12 can read, according to the parish statistics. In no other country in Europe are so many books printed and sold in proportion to the population. A population of only "6,000, scattered in many hamlets, has twelve printing presses, the earliest being es tablished as far back as 1530; about 100 books annually, 14 newspapers and eight periodicals are produced to sat isfy the literary needs of this little na tion. Yet this literary people still live in a pastoral and Homeric civilization, which is a modern lesson of the health Culness of human life lived in close contact with the free, wild life of na ture, such as would have delighted the heart of Rosseau or Thoreau. As a . proof that this life is healthy, I give ! the example of a clergyman who died four years ago 113 years old, having managed to live all his days healthy and happy on $150 a year, the aver age stipend in the Icelandic church. The sheep yield food and clothing. Their wool is pulled off In the spring, carded, spun, woven in hand looms and worn undyed. You make shoes of their skin and spoons of their horns. Every opportunity Is seized for the telling of stortes and reciting of poems. Only the ; milk ewes are kept at home in the ' summer to be milked. The rest of the sheep are gathered in from the moun tains in autumn, notice being given at church from the pulpit. The autumn gatherings, with people sitting on the walls of the stone in closure telling stortes are quite Homer ic. The winter evenings are spent with ' each member of the family busy at work In the san e room; the men on their knees shaving the wool oft the sheep skins, making ropes and nets of hair; the women using spindle and dis taff. embroidering, etc., afford a still better opportunity for stories and puns. There are even wandering minstrels who gain their livelihood by reciting prose or poetry, which they know by heart, at various farmhouses till they exhaust their stock. To Ge Ssttled Privately. From Yonkers Statesman. Judge; will you do me a great fa vor?" asked the lady who was about to he put upon the stand as a witness. < “Certainly, mins: what is It?” ■Will you please ask me my ago be fore 1 lake the oath?" FABLED CITIES SUBMERGED Legends of T owns So Wicked They Were Buried Under Water. Many of those persons who have been fortunate enough, due to ample means of lucky circumstances of a business or other nature, to spend a holiday at many of the charming re sorts dotting the coast line of the Ger man ocean will have been amused | (and, perchance, Interested) by the many tales and legends related as to submerged cities—all supramundane trace of which has now disappeared. Of such cities which once were famous for their wealth, beauty and power. It is whispered that their love of luxury, their greed and cruelty led to the of fended and unseen powers above caus ing the waves to rise in the night and engulf them forever. Not only are such legends rife on the coast, but even In Inland German towns many a lake is Invested with a halo of similar mys tery. Of these latter cases two of the most Interesting relate to an old-time city named Buckow which Is said to rest upon the bottom of Lake Schermvretzel, In Brandenburg; while lake Werbellin (a most mysterious sheet of water, ac cording to folklore) conceals in its bosom a town of the same name; all that remains of this latter Is the name given to a small village. In memory of Its predecessor, which now stands not far from the point where the former town stood. Although most of the stories rife in Germany as to vanished towns In the Interior have no actual historical basis, or, at best, a slight one (the Werbellin story being based upon the disappear ance of a castle called Werbellin, one of the Ascanlan castles built In 1150-1170 by Albert the Bear, Margrave of Brandenburg, and a contemporary of Frederick Barbarossa), this is not so on the coast; here the legends are all well founded on fact, and. In most cases, the salient features have lost but little of ! their original truth in the telling. Lost Dutch City. The most striking of all the legends current in the coast towns of the Ger man ocean is that dealing with the lost Dutch town of Stavoren, at the en trance to the Zuyder Zee. Here there Mved a rich and powerful woman, whose 1 pride, cruelty and selfishness aroused ‘.he anger of heaven, amd caused the wicked and misguided city to sink be neath the waves. A small portion of the city (where the good people lived) was saved, and its name still cleaves io the small town of Stavoren, which is well known to every traveler going by water from Amsterdam to Lecu warden and Groningen. St is an indis putable fact that. In the thirteenth century, Stavoren was a wealthy and powerful commercial city; however, due partly to the port becoming choked with sand, and partly to the eruption of the Zuyder Zee in 1277, it rapidly lost its importance, and at the present time what is left of It only afTords shelter to about 800 souls. The roofs i and spires of the now submarine build- I :ngs can, it is said, be often seen far 3own in the depths when the sea is still and the weather is clear, while | allent listeners on Christmas eve will j hear the distant and muffled tone ot church bells arising from the depths, ' only to break In hubbies and ripples [' on the surface of the Zuyder Zee. Visitors to Sylt, the well known sea side resort and Island in the North sea, [< will doubtless remember the small vil lage of Wenningstedt. Although its j present population is only 50 persons, ! it is none the less commemorative of 1, the large commercial town of Wen- j! ningstedt, which went to the bottom i of the sea during a great flood and f storm which took place January 16, i 1362. norm se« victims. Wenningstedt is by no means the j '■ bnly town which onGe stood on the ! shores of Friesland and Holland, oniy ' lo meet Avith destruction at the hands, (or rather billoAvs) of “Old Hans,” as the Frisian familiarly terms the North 1 sea. As a matter of fact, of all the 1 leas in the world it 5s the German. : beean alone which can establish a rec ml for the number of towns, villages: md hamlets which it has either des troyed or engulfed. Since the 11th cen tury "Old Hans” has devastated no less* than 144 towns and villages, either by (wallowing them up entirely or else by burying them under heaps of sand, rho fate of the Dutch tOAvn of Rung bolt, which disappeared during a great storm in the year 1337, Is still sung and ‘ told in story by the present day fisher (oik of Holland. The Baltic sea has not such a had ] record in catastrophes as "Old Kama.” Vet a halo of romance is thrown (round the legends told about this sea by the story of the wonderful town of Vineta, chimes from whose ehnrch steeples may, st the fall of eventide, be beard pealihg faintly from the depths »f the ocean. In the '70s of the last century articles were still published in support of the sometime existence of a 'urge, fabulously wealthy Wendfsh city named Vineta, which, in thie middle ages, nestled at the foot of the Stalkel oerg at Usedom, nearly at the same al titude at which the hamlet of Damerow bow stands. The legend states it was i totally destroyed by a flood and earth- i (tuake which occurred in the year 1183. | At one time the city of Vineta was •narked on the Prussian maps, but ] geological and historical investigations j nade locally by Professor Virchow i md others have proved beyond doubt : (hat a town never could have stood bpon the site Indicated. A Button Hole. From Tit-Bits. At home stations the private soldier's washing Is ustially done by the mar ried soldiers’ Avlves, who are expected to sew on missing buttons and do little repairs, for which a small sum is de- i flucted from the private’s pay. Private McGinnis had a great deal , bf trouble with his laundress. Satur- ; Jay after Saturday had his shirt come back with the neck button off, or else banging by a single thread. He had i spoken to her on the subject and she bad promised to see after it; hut still '.he button Avas not on properly. He got out of patience one Sunday, when the missing button had made him late for parade, and exclaimed: "Bad cess to the woman. I’ll give her a hint this time, anyhow.” He took the lid off his tin blacking box—about three inches in diameter—punched two holes in it with his fork and then tied it on the neck of the shirt that was next to be Avashed. Next Saturday Avhen his Avashing came hack the whole room gathered round him to see if she had taken the hint; she had—she had made a button hole to fit il! _ I State Game Warden Stone, of Wis- I consin, says that the reports so far made to him showed that 5.GT0 deer were shipped on the railroads during the recent open season, and that he es timated that fully 10,000 had been I killed in the state during the season. I i ^ Heard at the Opery. "Would you advise me,” asked m\ woman of the funny man, "to take ai husband?” No,” replied the funny1 man; "take a single man; let the mar-1 rled men alone.”.A sneaking man walked onto the stage, and suddenly picked up something from the floor.. "Here," called the funny man, "halfl of that is mine. What did you pick up?" “Nothing," replied the sneaking man, wiping his Angers on his coat, “but dog gone a man who spits like a' nickel."...‘‘Women are Crazy," sold the funny man; “they fuss until they get long dresses, and then they hold 'em up. Besides that, they wear 1#‘ buttons on their gloves, and two oal their waists.” ) A Very Common Breed. Haymowe—Say, mister, wf}at be tha* dorg o’y urn, a setter or a pointer? Huntsman—Neither. He’s an upeettee* and a dlsappolnter. Three carloads or honey have beers exported recently from Texas to Rhg land. WHAT CAUSES HEADACHE, From Octoberto May. Colds are the most fre-1 quentcauseof Headache. LAXATIVE BROMOi QU1 Nd NBremoveg cause. E.W.Grove on box 26#’ Yet He Wished Him Well. From Harper's Weekly. "Between emotionalism and formal ism In religion,” says a JVashlngtoiv clergyman, “there is a golden mean— a reflection that came to me recently upon the conclusion of fny remarks to a colored congregation In Richmond. “I had invited an aged deacon to of fer prayer. 'O Lord,’ prayed he, ‘gib dis pore brudder de eye of jte agle, dat he spy out sin afar aff. 01&e his handa to the gospel plow. Tie his tongue to the line of truf. Nail his yere to de gospel pole. Bow his head ‘way down between his knees. O Lord, an’ fix hl» knees 'way down In some lonesome, dark, and narrer valley, where prayer is much wanted to be made. ‘Noint him wif de kerosene lie of salvashun, an' set him on fire.' " Merchants Visit Milwaukee. This is the season when merchants throughout the Northwest are turning to Milwaukee for their spring and summer stock. Milwaukee jobbers and manu facturers here in turn prepared for the secasion. A visit to the metropolis of Wisconsin will repay those who intend to purchase their stock of spring goods »r place an order for machinery in any jf the renowned factories. Milwaukee jobbers deserve the patron ise of the business men of this city, rhey offer good goods and1 as splendid a iisplay at right prices as can be found \ anywhere. The absolute superiority of tbe product of Milwaukee’s manufac tures is known throughout the world, rhe reduction of the railroad fare to two aents a mile has brought Milwaukee more closely in touch with merchants generally who may now travel at a mini mum cost with maximum profit. White in Milwaukee a vhjit to tbe rooms of the Milwaukee Association of Jobbers and Manufacturers, 45-49 University Build ing, will bring any information that is Deeded. Looked on Mining Camp as a Myth J "Every one In the West knpws of the S •emarkably rapid growth of Tonopah." •emarked Phil S. Montague, the min ng stock broker. "The cajnp sprang ip almost in a night and had a pop llation of thousands tn a very few veeks. The mushroom development ilmost had the effect of urjspating the lason of a citizen of Arizona; in fact, t took much argument to convince lim that he had not gone suddenly daffy.’ "About a month or so after the birth >f the camp a crowd of men in front >f a cigar store In tho main street were ittracted by the aitfcics of a stranger, le was looking wildly in all direction* is he came down the middle of the itreet. muttering the while to himself* ind occasionally stopping to shake hial lead and rub his eyes. The boys be— ;an to guy him, and he turned his foot teps tn their dlrectten. “ 'Excuse me gents.' he said intell igently enough, ‘bat the fact is that. 've gone nuts. What place is this?* “ 'Tonopah, Nevada,' he v\jp.s told; "The stranger shook his Head sadly. " ‘It’s no use,’ he said, ‘I’ve got 'em.’ "The crowd became interested and jy plying him with questions soon earned his story. He was a sheepman, vho for years had made the trip from t point in Arizona to smith western Jtali each spring, returning in tho lutumn. His route lay through tho jass in which Tonopah. is ijqw situated, ind he knew the whole cdtmfry, as ha laid, ‘by heart.' Only ftv£ jSeefcs prs riously he had -one fhrougn the pasa ind encountered noHilng Hut cactus. Returning, he had come ifnext^ctedly ipon a populous mtnlng camp, hustling with life. He regarded It alf as tho [Hallucination of a disordered wain. “It took considerable explaining to mnvince him that what he saw was *■’» ■eal, and was delighted when finally mnvinced that he was not insane.” CO FEES DRINBXSrO. t Doctor Soya It Weakens the Heart. ‘Tn toy opinion,” says a weil-knowa Herman physician, “no one can truth fully say coffee agrees with him, as It las long since been proven that caffeine contained In coffee, Is an injurious, ioisonous substance which weakens and' legeuerates the heart muscles. "For this reason the regular use of :otfee, soon or late, causes a condition jf undernourishment, which leads to rarious kinds of organic disease. ‘•Convinced of this fact. I have often sought for some healthful beverage to use instead of coffee. At last I found the thing desired in Postum. Having tiad occasion to forbid people using coffee, whose hearts were affected, I linve recommended Postum ns a bev erage, since It is free from all injurious Jr exciting substances. I know this from results In my own family, and among patients. “Hundreds of persons who now uss Postum in place of coffee, are greatly benefited thereby.” "There’s a Reason.” Name given by Postum Co., Battls Creek. Mich. Read ”Tb* Road to Wsll rille,” In pkgs.