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| What it Covers it PROTECTS as |
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Neil Brennan)
I Only Agent in Town §
^eccmsr.entSed by lu
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I
HIS TERRIBLE EYES.
Senator Cats Could Almost Paralyze a
Man With a Look.
Giant heads, bodies and brains were
Webster and Cass. All the strength of
New Hampshire granite was concen
trated In those two sons. -To look upon
them made the ordinary man feel
small. Wonderful eyes they possessed,
and men have been known to shiver
with dread when one or the other al
lowed bis glance to fall upon them.
Cass could look through a stranger In ■
a way to make his brain burn and his
knees knock together. One searching
stare seemed to destroy ull mentality
and fill the victim with paralytic emo
tions.
■No man dared take liberties with
Cass. In 1840 the proprietor of the
National hotel In Washington was a
man who so closely resembled the
great senator from Michigan that he
was often mistaken for him. An old
friend, returning from a Journey, en
tered the lobby and, seeing him lean
lng against the desk, slipped up be
hind and hit him a terrific whack on
the shoulder, saying cheerily and si
multaneously: “Hello, old man! Here
1 um back ngaln. How are you?"
Senator Cass straightened up his six
feet three and, turning upon the assail
ant his terrible, bloodshot eyes, almost
annihilated him with a look. Not a
word was spoken. That look was am
ple. The stranger was so “rattled”
that he could not even apologize, but
slunk dejectedly out of the hotel.
Later lu the day when congress was
supposed to be In session the stranger
returned to the hotel to shake hands
with the proprietor and tell him ull
about the (.'ass Incident. Walking
bravely up, he laid his hand down on
his friend's shoulder and, without wait
ing for a greeting, surprised him with:
“See here, old fellow, you got me In
a deuce of a scrape this morning.
Why, you know, I took old Cass for
you, slapped him on the back, nearly
taking off a shoulder, and the old fool
looked at me as If he wanted to com
mit murder. The darned old lunatic,
why doesn’t he stay out of here? He
knows”— Again the great senator
from Michigan straightened up his six
feet three, again he turned his blood
shot eyes, again he looked and again
the victim fled. Two mistakes of that
kind in one day!
CHARACTER IN WALMNu.
Traits Which Ara Readily Diacloaad
by One’s Qait.
“There’s a conceited man coming
down the street,” said the girl In the
group on a corner. “How do I know?
By his walk. I can tell the chief trait
of any person’s character by watching
him or her walk. For Instance, if a
man walks with a heavy lift to his
hips he’s sure to be obstinate. If he
sinks down a little on his heels he has
a comfortable attitude toward life and
the world in general—In fact, he’s a bit
lazy. That woman coming down the
street now is a gossip. Any one could
tell that because of her mincing, fussy
gait. Indecision is the chief character
istic of that woman’s character across
the street. Don’t you see how she
swings her foot rather hesitatingly iu
the air before she puts It down?
“The man who walks with his knees
leading is sure to be of the pious type
—the disagreeably pious type, I mean.
You see that old codger who Is cross
ing the road with his stomach seem
ing to lead the rest of him—well, of
course it Is evident that feeding Is his
chief delight. When an Intellectual
man walks his head leads. That girl
who sways so is self conscious. Yes,
that girl going down the street has a
pretty walk, gliding and quiet, but
watch out for her; she Is treacherous
in the extreme.
“The man who puts his feet down
especially solidly is heavy and some
what stupid. That little person cross
ing the road with a quick, clean step
Is energy personified, but he has the
sort of energy which has no regard for
the rights or feelings of others. The
girl coming out of that store has an
ugly streak In her nature. Don’t you
see how she puts her foot down un
willingly as If she were saying: ‘I
won’t! I won't!’ I shouldn’t advise
any man to marry her.
“Of course I don’t pretend to know
thoroughly a person’s character by his
walk, but I do discover his predom
inating characteristic.”
The Quality of Mercy.
A notorious mountain moonshiner,
familiarly known as Wild Bill, was
tried before a federal court In Georgia
and was adjudged guilty. Before pro
nouncing sentence the Judge lectured
the prisoner on his long criminal rec
ord and at last, informing him that the
court entertained no feeling of anger
toward him, but felt only unmixed pity,
sentenced him to spend six years In
the federal prison at Atlanta.
Bill stolidly shifted the quid of tobac
co in his mouth and turned to leave the
courtroom with the marshal. Once out
side the only thing he said was this:
“Well, I suah am glad he wa’n’t mad
at me!”
Proving It.
“Keep up your courage, old man,”
said the passenger who was a good
sailor to another who was leaning
over the railing and paying tribute to
Neptune.
“Never mind me,” came the answer
between gasps. “I’ve always heard
that It took travel to bring out what
there Is In a man.”
Painfully Natural.
Playwright—Is her acting natural?
Manager (enthusiastically) — Natural?
Why, when she appeared as the dying
mother last night an Insurance agent
who has her life Insured for $25,000
and who was In the audience actually
fainted.—London Tit-Bits.
t j
Curing a Pad
By W. F. BRYAN.
Copyrighted, 1908, by Ilomer Sprague.
Being fanciful as well ns fashionable.
Miss Hovey was a faddist, this to the
deep sorrow of Dick Fennlster, who
barely had time to develop an Interest
in one pursuit before Florence Hovey
was off at a new tangent.
Dick had just learned to handle the
diabalo when he was called upon to
abandon the illusive spinning reel in
order to spend his afternoons amid dim
lights and odors of incense while a
burly Buddhist proclaimed the tenets
of fasting and mortification of the flesh
to the end that the soul might lie en
abled to quit its earthly tenement aud
soar through realms of space.
And then came Batterly. His advent
enabled Dick to resume an intimate
connection between soul and body aud
also permitted him to take Florence to
luncheon occasionally until Batterly's
artistic notions engulfed Miss Hovey
even more completely than the Hindoo
religion had done.
Batterly knew the value of what ac
tors call “dressing the part,” and there
was small danger that any one would
ever mistake him for other than what
he was. The black velvet coat, the
straight brimmed high hat nnd the peg
top trousers above sharply pointed
French shoes were all delightfully sug
gestive of the Latin quarter. Florence
discarded shirt waists and went iu for
soft, clinging gowns designed by Bat
terly. Tlie phraseology of the studio
supplanted the words of affection which
Dick Fennlster had received despite
the reigns of other fads.
Things began to look serious, indeed,
for Fennlster, and none knew it bet
ter than himself. Batterly by his very
selfishness was the sort of man to at
tract women, and Dick Fennlster fear
ed that if be sought to exercise bis
rights as a fiance this would serve only
to mark the termination of their en
gagement and precipitate Florence’s
serious interest In the artist.
Things went from tad to worse, and
there came the day when Dick called
to take Florence for a walk only to
find that she had gone with Batterly.
Later it developed that she had gone
to his studfo to pose for her portrait
and that Mrs. Hovey had accompanied
them as chaperon, but this did not
lighten the situation much.
Thereafter Batterly called daily to
escort his sitter to the studio, and with
mournful interest Dick watched the
trio pass the club window.
Then there came a day when the
light of resolve flashed into his eyes,
and with positive cheerfulness he
turned from the spectacle. Harry Ful
ton, passing him in the hall, was scan
dalized to surprise him performing a
dance indicative of solemn Joy.
“Your own idea?” he asked when
Dick saw him and had subsided.
“A poor thing,” admitted Dick, “but
ray own. It is the outward Indication
of the joy that rises within me.”
“It’s all right then,” was the sarcas
tic retort. “It seemed rather the out
ward indication of an inward colic.”
He passed on, and Dick headed for
the coat room. Ten minutes later he
quitted tne ciud.
Mrs. Hovey rather enjoyed the after
noon promenades down the avenue.
Batterly’s eccentricities, aided by real
cleverness with the brush, had made
him something of a social lion, and
she was proud to have him in leash.
She enjoyed the attention which the
artist attracted, but this afternoon
there was a new expression on the
face of those whom they met.
In spite of the occasional "Very clev
er!” and “How original!" which fell
rrom the lips of passersby there was a
flash of levity in the eyes of nearly
all. Both Mrs. Hovey and Florence
anxiously, if secretly, felt various por
tions of their dress to see if some dis
arrangement of their toilets had arous
ed attention.
But several fqftive touches assured
them that all was well, and so they
gave more attention to Batterly, who
reveled In this afternoon parade down
the fashionable thoroughfare with the
aristocratic matron and her remark
ably handsome daughter at his side.
He had scorned the suggestion of a
carriage, declaring that the walk clear
ed his brain and enabled him to do his
best work.
“This picture shall be my master
piece,” he declared, “If only I am able
to do justice to the subject. See! Ev
ery one stares at the beauty I am
struggling to reproduce upon canvas.
It shall make me famous.” •
“You are already that,” reminded
Mrs. Hovey. “You will make Florence
famous instead.”
“No; she is already that,” replied the
artist. “It needs none to tell that she
is the observed of all observers. To
day I notice it as never before.”
“Do you?” asked Mrs. Hovey uneas
ily. “It does seem to me that we are
attracting unusual attention.”
“It is the gown,” said Batterly com
placently. “It is a triumph. It is a
joy to see one’s Ideals so fittingly
realized.” He glanced with frank pride
at the somewhat conspicuous costume
he had designed for Florence and
which she was wearing Upon the street
for the first time. He was inordinate
ly vain, and even the indirect flattery
of curious glances was as incense to
his soul.
They had almost reached the side
street on which Batterly had his stu
dio In an abandoned stable whose
rough and dilapidated exterior served
only to heighten the effect of the lux
urious furnishings within. Suddenly |
Mrs. Ilovey gasped and clutched the
artist’s arm.
Were it not for the clutch and the
feel of hone and muscle beneath she
could have sworn that Batterly was
advancing toward them with his pomp
ous deliberate stride. Batterly, too,
saw the vision and stared.
“It would seem a double,” he said.
“Tell me, do you see one who looks
like me?”
“Two—three,” said Mrs. Ilovey In
gasps, while her eyes filled with fear.
“It canuot be a delusion, since we
both see It.” said Batterly In relieved
tones. “What cau It be?”
“There's another!" almost screamed
Mrs. Ilovey as a third figure came into
view “What can It mean?”
The question was quickly answered,
for the first of the false artists was
now abreast of them, nnd, glancing
over her shoulder, Mrs. Hovey faced a
new surprise. On the black velvet coat
was neatly lettered: “Beldlng, the Art
ist. Best Photos $3 Per Dozen.”
“It Is an advertisement,” she gnsped,
“and—and”—
“The people think Mr. Bntterly Is one
of them,” said Florence Indignantly.
“Oh, there’s Dick! He'll take us home.
We need not trouble Mr. Batterly.”
Fennlster, perceiving that he was
recognized, hurried forward. Florence
regarded with approval his correct aft
ernoon dress anil turned from the artist
In disgust as a sixth double filed slowly
past.
“Piease take us home, Dick,” she said
faintly. “It seems that we have been
assisting in advertising some cheap
photographer.”
“Jolly good makeup,” said Dick as he
stepped between the two women, there
by displacing the artist. “Mr. Bntterly
saved them the trouble of thinking up
an Idea for a costume. Bet's drop in
here and have an lee,” he added as
they reached a fashionable restaurant.
“Perhaps your mother would like”—
“Tea,” declared the crimson faced
woman. “I was never so mortified in
my life, Dick. I wish you’d hurry up
and marry Florence If only to cure her
of her silly habit of fads.”
“With all my heart to the first part!”
cried Dick as his glance sought the
girl's.
“I’m cured of the second part,” added
Florence demurely. “What a wonder
it was no one used the mahatma for an
advertisement for a—a”— *
“A minstrel show,” said Dick, with a
laugh. “He was black enough.”
And then Fennlster offered up a pray
er that It might never be discovered
who had planned the advertisement.
Hypereriticism of Cooki.
In a Sixth avenue employment agen
cy ten cooks out of a job waited one
afternoon recently for something to
turn up. Presently a well dressed wo
man who was short of servants ap
plied at the desk for the desired help.
The manager referred her to the ten
cooks. The woman Interviewed each
of them in turn, with unsatisfactory
results.
“Not one of them,” she explained to
the manager of the agency, “likes to
eat the things that we like.”
“But what difference does that
make?” asked the manager. "They
are no doubt good cooks for all that.”
"Possibly, but they wouldn’t suit
me,” said the woman decidedly. “My
family have very pronounced tastes In
regard to cookery, and my experience
has taught me that only a cook who
likes the same dishes can prepare them
satisfactorily. It stands to reason that
any cook who likes certain dishes will
have better luck with them than one
who doesn’t like them, consequently
I'll do the work myself until I find a
girl whose taste agrees with ours.”—
New York Press.
Would Excuse Her.
"The butler In a Scotch family occu
pies a privileged and unique position,”
said a Scot to some friends who were
discussing the servant problem. "He
sometimes assumes a freedom of speech
that to Americans would be an Imperti
nence, but to those that know him this
is only one of the many evidences of
his Interest In the family welfare.
“A young lady from New York was
the guest at a house where a butler of
that sort reigns. She submitted to his
patronage with much amusemeut. One
day there were unexpected and Im
portant guests for dinner, a fact that
caused the butler a little while before
the meal was served to waylay the
American girl in the hall.
“ ‘I’m fearin’ there ’ll no be enough
soup,’ he explained, ‘so when it’s of
fered ye maun decline It, lass.’
“ ‘Why.’ was the laughing response
of the girl, ‘it wouldn’t be polite of me
to decline soup.’
“ ‘Not precisely.’ said the butler, with
a benignant smile, ‘but they’ll a’ make
excuse for ye. thinkin’ ye ken nne bet
ter.’ ”
Wars That Were Caused by Women.
I do not think that any of you are
Ignorant, my friends, that the greatest
wars have taken place on account of
women—the Trojan war on account of
Helen, the plague which took place in
It was on account of Chryseis and the
war called the sacred war on account
of Theano. This war lasted ten years.
The Crissaean war, which also lasted
ten years, was excited on this account
—because the Crlssaeans carried off
Megisto, the daughter of Pelagon, and
the daughters of the Arglves as they
were returning from the temple.
And whole families have been ruin
ed owing to women. For Instance, that
of Philip, the father of Alexander, was
ruined on account of his marriage with
Cleopatra, and Hercules was ruined by
his marriage with Iole.—Atbenaeus. A.
D. 300.
Get Away Year.
Bacon—The single men do not seem
to bo.afraid of leap year any more.
Egbert—No. You see, as soon as the
girls get ready to leap the men pre
pare to jump.—Yonkers Statesman.
■
LEE AND M’CLELLAN.
_ i
An Incident of the First Meeting of
the Two Soldiers.
The first meeting between General
George B. McClellan and General Rob
ert E. Lee happened In Mexico during
the war with that country. McClellan
was a lieutenant of engineers, and Lee
was a major on the staff of General
Winfield Scott.
One day McClellan was walking
( across a field when he saw General
Scott and his staff approachiug on
horseback. As they drew near Ma
jor Lee reined up bis horse aud asked i
the lieutenant if he did not know
that he was disobeying orders. UIs
tone was sharp aud angry. McClellan
answered that he was not aware of
any disobedience and asked for an ex
planation. Lee replied that all officers
had been told to remain in their quar
ters, awaiting orders, and asked for
the lieutenant’s name.
McClellan gave his name and said
that no order of that kind had reached
him. But Lee in a peremptory tone
ordered him to go to his quurters and
remain there. Then he rode off and
rejoined General Scott and the staff,
who had not stopped. McClellan went
lo his quarters, as he had been directed
to do, but was quite indignant at the
way In which Lee had treated him, for
he had not knowingly committed a
breach of discipline.
He had Just finished telling his broth
er officers the incident when he was
informed that an officer was outside
the tent asking for him. On going out
he was much surprised to see Major
Lee, who saluted him with respect. i
“Lieutenant McClellan,’’ the major
said, "I am afraid that I was not cour
teous In my manner to you a little
while ago, and I have called to apol
ogize.”
“I assured him that it was all right,”
said General McClellan in telling the
story, “and he rode off after making
a low bow, leaving me in admiration
of a superior officer who so promptly
and generously repaired an error.”—
Chicago News.
AN AERIAL HORROR.
Ths Very Dreadful Thing That Stroh
echneider Did.
A group of aeronauts were talking
aeronautics.
v “Did you ever hear of Strohschnel
der?” said a German. "He did a dread
ful thing once. I’ll tell you about it.
“Strohschnelder appeared In a cer
tain village and advertised that he
would take the landlord of the village
inn up with him on a trapeze hanging
from the car of his balloon.
“Though the landlord’s wife made a
kick and the authorities, upholding
her, forbade the man to accompany
Strohschnelder, the landlord sat In
state on the trapeze beside the famous p
aeronaut when the ascension began. ]
“But those nearest to him noticed
that he was paler than a ghost and
that his arm was thrown around Stroh
schneider's neck as If In terror. And,
noting these things, the people nodded
ominously to one another.
“Up and up went the balloon, and
now a murmur of horror arose among
the multitude. The aeronaut and the
landlord were quarreling; they were
fighting. High up there In the clouds,
perched on the swaying trapeze, they
struggled, thumped, kicked.
"Suddenly the aeronaut. In a mad
burst of rage, seized the landlord by
the throat, thrust him backward and
flung him into space. Down the poor
fellow dropped like a stone, turning
over and over. He alighted on his
head.
“The people, mad with horror and
rage, rushed to the spot. And there, to
their amazement, stood the landlord,
laughing heartily. The figure that had
fallen was a manikin dressed up in his *
clothes.
“And this,” the speaker concluded,
“Is the only practical joke that has
ever been played from a balloon.’’
New Orleans Times-Democrat.
Peril* of Crinoline.
The dangers of the historic crinoline
are illustrated by a story told by Lady
Dorothy Nevill in her “Reminiscences.”
Going too near the fireplace, her volu
minous skirt caught fire, and In an
Instant she was in a blaze. There
were no men present, and the women
could not help her, because if they
had gone near enough to be of use their
own skirts would have been ignited.
Fortunately Lady Dorothy had suffi
cient presence of mind to roll herself
in the hearth rug and thus subdue the ’]
flames. \
A Judge of Land.
Proud Father—Welcome back to the '
old farm, my boy. So you got through j
college all right? Farmer’s Son—Yes,
father. Proud Father—Ye know, I told
ye to study up chemistry and things,
so you’d know best what to do with
different kinds of land. What do you
think of that flat medder there, for in- s
stance? Farmer’s Son—Cracky, what
a place for a ball game!—Kansas City
Independent.
Pity th* Poor Wolf. J
“Why is it,” asked the fox, “that you 3
always look so gaunt?”
“Oh,” replied the wolf, ‘it’s all due
to the business I’m in. I always have
to keep away from the door until
there’s nothing left in the house to
•at.”—Catholic Standard and Times.
The New Yorker.
“You New Yorkers don't seem to
know anything about the rest of the
country,” said the visitor.
“The rest of the country?” echoed
the New Yorker. “What’s that?"—
Philadelphia Ledger.
Equality may be all right, but no
human power can convert It into a
fact.—Balzac.