*
_THF
Story of Francis Cludde
A Romance of Queen Mary's Reign.
BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN.
I 'HA FT ER VI.—CONTINU ED.
"Never mind my baggage,” she an
swered Imperiously. "1 have made oth
er arrangements for It. Two or three
things I know came on board last
night. I want to start—to start at
oner, do you hear?"
The captain shook his head and said
sluggish1;/ that it was Impossible.
(Spitting or. the deck, he ground his
heel leis ir- iy round a knothole. "Im
possible," he repeated. "It would not
be scan ir.shlp to start In a fog. When
thr fog lifts, we will go. "Twill be
all the «ame tomorrow. We shall lie
at Leigh tonight, whether we go now
or go V'hcn the fog lifts."
"At Leigh?”
"That is It. madam."
"And when will you go from Leigh?"
she cried Indignantly.
"Daybreak tomorrow," he answered.
"You leave it to me, mistress," he
continued In a tone of rough patron
age, "an l you will see your good man
before you expect It."
Hut, man," ahe exclaimed, tremb
ling with Impotent rage, "did not Mas
ter Bertram engage you to bring me
across whenever 1 might be ready?
Aye, and pay you handsomely for It?
Did he not, sirrah?"
To be sure, to be sure!" replied the
giant unmoved. "Using seamanship
and not going to sea In a fog, it It
please you."
"It does not please me," she re
torted. And why slay at Leigh?"
lie looked up at the rigging, then
down at the deck, lie set his heel in
the knothole and ground it round
again. Then he looked at his question
er with a broad smile. "Well, mis
tress, for a very good reason. It Is
there your good man Is waiting for
you. Only," added this careful keeper
‘of a secret, “he bade me not tell any
ore."
She uttered a low cry, which might
have been an echo of her baby’s coo
ing and convulsively clasped the child
more tightly to her. "He Is at Leigh,”
she murmured, flushing and trembling,
another woman altogether. Even her
voice was wonderfully changed. "He
Is really at Leigh, you say?”
"To be sure!” replied the captain
with a portentous wink and a mys
terious roll of the head. "He Is there
safe enough! Safe enough, you may
b| l your handsome face to a rush
light. And we will be there tonight."
She started up with a wild gesture.
For a moment she had sat down on
a cask standing beside her and for
got Ion our peril and the probability
that we might never see Leigh at dll.
Now, 1 have said, she started up. "No,
no!" she cried, struggling for breath
and utterance. "Oh, no, no! Let us
go at once. We must start at once!"
Her voice was hysterical In its sud
den anxiety and terror as tlie con
sciousness of our position rolled back
upon her. "Captain, listen, listen!”
she pleaded. “Let us start now. and
my husband will give you double. 1
will promise you double whatever he
said If you will chance the fog."
1 think all who heard her were
moved, save the captain only. He
rubbed his head and grinned. Slow'
and heavy, he saw nothing in her
prayer save the freak of a woman wild
to get to her man. lie did not weigh
tier promise at a groat. She was but
a woman And being a foreigner he
did not perceive a certain air of breed
ing which might have Influenced a na
tive. He was one of those men against
whose stupidity Father Carey used to
say the gods light In vain. When he
answered good natureflly; "No. no,
mistress. It Is Impossible. It would not
tie seamanship," I felt that we might
ms well try to stop the ebbing tide
as move Mm from his position.
The feeling was a maddening one.
The special peril which menaced my
companions. I did not know, but 1 knew
they feared pursuit, and I had every
reason to fear it for myself. Yet at
sny moment, out of the fog which en
circled us so closely that we could
barely see the raft below, and the shore
Ht all, might come the tramp of hurrying
feet and the stern hall of the law. It
was maddening to think of this and
to know that w'e had only to cast
<iff a rope or two In order to escape
and to know also that we were abso
lutely helpless.
1 expected that Mistress Bertram,
brave as she hud shown herself, would
hurst into a passion of rage and tears.
Hut apparently she hud one hope left.
Bhe looked at me.
I tried to think—to think hard. Alas.
I seemed only able lo listen. An hour
had gor.e by since we parted from the
rascal In the court, and we might ex
pect him to appear at any moment,
vengeful and exultant, with a posse at
his back. Yet I tiled hard to think
and the rog presently suggested a pos
sible course. “Look here.” 1 said sud
denly speaking for the first time, "if
you do not start until the fog lifts
captain we may as well breakfast
ashore and return presently.”
That Is as you please.” tie answered
lrulifferei'irtv.
one laughed and another swore. With
a warning hand I grasped my compan
ions' arms and hurried them forward
some paces until I felt sure that our
figures could not be seen through tlie
mist. Then I halted, and we stood lis
tening, gazing into one another's
strained eyes, while tlie step came near
er and nearer, crossed our track and
then with a noisy rush thundered on
tlie wooden rafl My ear caught the
jingle of harness and clank of weapons.
"It Is my watch," X muttered. "Come,
and make no noise. What I want Is a
little this way. I fancy I saw it as
we passed down I he wharf.”
They turned with me, but we had not !
taken many steps before Mistress
Anne, who was walking on iny left
side, stumbled over something. She
tried to save herself, but failed, and fell
heavily, uttering as she did so a loud
cry. 1 sprang to her assistance, and
even before T raised Iter 1 laid my hand
lightly on her mouth. "Hush!" I said
softly. "For safety's sake, make no
noise. What Is tlie matter?”
"Oh she moaned, making no effort
to rise, "my ankle, iny ankle! I am
sure I have broken it,”
I muttered my dismay, wtfile Mistress
Bertram, stooping anxtom«y, examined
the injured limb. "Can you stand?”
she asked.
But It was no lime for questioning,
and X put her aside. The troop which
had passed were within easy hearing,
and It there should be one among them
familiar with the girl's voice we might
be pounced upon, fog or no fog. I felt
that it was no time for ceremony and
picked Mistress Anne up in my arms,
whispering to the elder womgn: “Go
on ahead! I think X see the boat. Jt Is
straight before you."
Luckily 1 was right, it was the boat,
nml so far well. But at the moment I
spoke I heard a sudden outcry behind
us and knew the hunt was up. I
plunged forward with my burden, reck
lessly and blindly, through mud and
over obstacles. The ferry for which I
was making was moored in the water a
few feet from the edge. I had remarked
it Idly and without purpose as we came
down to the wharf and Iiad even no
ticed that the oars were lying in it.
Now. If we could reach it and start
down tlie river for Leigh, we might by
possibility gain that place and meet
Mistress Bertram's husband.
At any rate, nothing In the world
seined so desirable to me at the mo
ment as the shelter of that boat. I
plunged through the mud and waded
desperately through the water to it,
Mistress Bertram scarce a whit behind
me. I reached It, hut reached It only
as tlie foremost pursuer caught sight
of us I heard ids shout of triumph,
and somehow I bundled my burden into
the boat, I remember that she clung
about iny neck in fear, and I had to
loosen her hands roughly. But I did
loosen them—in time. With one stroke
of rny hunting knife I severed the rope,
and pushing off the bout with all iny
strength sprang Into it as it floated
away and was in time. But one sec
ond's delay would have undone us.
Two men were already in the water up
to their knees, and their very breath
was hot on iny face as we swung out
Into the stream.
Fortunately I had had experience of
boats on the Avon, at Bedford, and
Stratford, and could pull a good oar.
For a moment indeed the wherry rolled
and dipped as I snatched up the sculls,
but 1 quickly got her In hand, and
bending to my work sent her spinning
through tiie mist, every stroke 1 pulled
Increasing the distance between us and
our now unseen foes. Happily we were
below London bridge and had not that
dangerous passage to make. The river
too, was nearly clear of craft, and
though once and again in the pool a
huge hulk loomed suddenly across our
bows and then faded behind us into
the mist like some monstrous phantom,
and so told of a danger narrowly es
caped. I thought it best to run ail risks
and go ahead as long as the tide should
ebb.
It was strange how suddenly we had
passed from storm into calm. Mistress
Anne had bound her ankle with a hand
kerchief and bravely made light of the
hurt, and now the two women sat
crouching in the stern watching
me, their heads together, their
faces pale. The mist had closed round
us. and we were alone again, gliding
over the bosom of the great river
that runs down to the sea. 1 was oddly
struck by the strange current of lire
which for a week had tossed me from
one adventure to another, only to bring
me Into contac t at length with these
Hyo and sweep me Into an unknown
whirlpool of thelv fortunes.
Who were they? A merchant's wife
and her sister flying from Bishop Bon
ner's Inquisition'.' I thought it likely.
Their cloaks and hoods indeed, and all
that 1 could see of their clothes, fell
below such a condition, hut probably
they were worn as a disguise. Their
speech rose as much above it, but I
j knew that of late many merchants'
j wives had become scholars and might
' pass In noblemen's houses. Kven as In
1 those days when I.onclim waxed fat and
j set up ynd threw down governments,
! every alderman had come to ride it
„,,.n
"V»hat do you think?" T said turn
ing to my companions with ns much
carelessness as I could command "Had
«> not better do that?"
Mistress Bertram did not understand
hut lit her despair she obeyed the mo
tion of my hand and mechanically
walked to the side. The younger wom
an followed more slowly. »n that 1 had
to speak to her with some ourtness,
bidding her make haste, for I was lii
a fever until we were clear of the
Whelp and the l.ton wharf. It had
struck me that. If the ship were not
to leave at onc“. we were now where In
so much danger as on board. At large
In the fog we might escape detrition
for a tic. e. Our pursuers might as well
look for a needle In a haystack as seek
uk through It when once we were clear
of the wharf. And this was not the
• lid of thy Idea. i!Ut Tor the present
It WHS enough. Therefore I took up
Misti ess Anne very short. "Come." I
; «uiid, “he v|Ulek: l.et me help you "
f, She obeyed and 1 was ashamed of
.v my Impatience when at the fool of the
ladder site thanked me prettily. It was
, almost ilh good cheer In my voice and
, « rebound of spirits that I explained as
1 hurrc'1 my companions across the
raft wh;tt my plan was.
liter The moment we were ashore I fell
safer. The fog swallowed us up null k
I? us '■ <; bibia says. The very hull of Hit
Ship vanished from sight before ua
i had gore half a dozen paces. I hat
K never seen a I.ondon fog before, and ii
g: me it seemed portentious and provide:)
Hal—a m.-rvel as great as the crlmsoi
hall which fell in the I.ondon gardeni
to mark '.ter majesty's accession.
Yet after till, without my liappj
thought, the log would have availed u
little. \t> aid scarcely gone a scon
of yards before the cautious tread o
sevt ml people hastening down thi
strand toward the wharf struck m;
ear. They were proceeding in silence
and we, might not have noticed tliei
' «pproa t if the foremost had noi b;
cliame tripped and fallen, vvhereupoi
No doubt tli? women, watching me In
anxious silence, were as curious about
me. I still bore stains of country trav
el. 1 was unwashed, unkempt, my
doublet was torn, the cloak I had cast
at my feet was the very wreck of a
cloak. Yet l read no distrust In their
i looks. The elder's brave eyes seemed
| ever thanking me. 1 never saw her
| Ups move silently that they did not
i shape "Well done!'' Amt though 1
; caught Mistress Anne scanning me once
I or twice with an expression t could 111
Interpret a smile look its place the mo
ment her gaze met mine.
We has passed but were still in sight
of Greenwich palace—as they told me—
when the mist rose suddenly like a
! curtain rolled away, and the cold,
i bright February sun. shining out, dis
! closed the sparkling river, with the
j green hills rising on our right hand.
; Here and there on its surface a small
] boat such as our ow n moved to and
i fro. and in the distant pool from which
' "e had come rose a little forest of
masts. I hung on the oars a moment,
I and my eyes were drawn’to a two
masted vessel which, nearly half a mile
j below us, was drifting down,, gently
; heeling over w ith the current as the
I crew got up the sails. "1 wonder whith
er she is bound." I said thoughtfully,
j "and whether they would lake us on
board by any chance."
Mistress Remain shook her head. "I
have no money." she answered sadly.
"I fear we must go on to I.elgh if it be
■ any wa\ possible. You ate tired, and
' j no wonder. But what is It "" with a
• I sudden change of voice. "What is the
■ matter.'"
, ! I had flashed out the oars with a s!n
• gle touch and begun to pull a3 fast as 1
■ ; could down the stream'. No doubt my
i idee, too, proclafflTtid.my discovery and
awoke her fears. ‘ Look behind!” I mut
tered between my set teeth.
She turned and on the instant uttered
a low cry. A wherry like our own, but
even lighter—in my first glance up the
river I had not noticed It—had stolen
nearer to us and yet nearer, and now,
throwing aside disguise, was in hot pur
suit of us. There were three men on
board, two rowing and one steering.
When they saw that we had discov
ered them, they hailed us In a loud
voice, ar.l I heard the steersman's feet
rattle on the boards as he cried out to
his men to give way and stamped In
very eagerness. My only reply was to
take a longer stroke and pulling hard
to sweep away from them.
But presently my first strength died
away, and the work began to tell upon
me, and little by little they overhauled
us. Not that I gave up at once for
that. They were still some 60 yards
behind, and for a few minutes, at any
rate. I might put off capture. At the
worst they were only three to one, and
their boat looked light and cranky and
easy to upset.
So I pulled on. savagely straining at
the oars. But my chest heaved and
my arms ached more and more
with each stroke. The banks
slid by us. We turned one
bend, then another, though I saw noth
ing of them. I saw only the pursuing
boat, on which my eyes were fixed,
heard only the measured rattle of the
oars in the rowlocks. A minute, two
minutes, three minutes passed. They
had not gained on us, but the water
was beginning to waver before my
eyes; their boat seemed floating in the
air; there was a pulsation in my ears
louder than (hat of the oars; I strug
gled and yet I flagged. My knees trepn
bled. Their boat shot nearer now, near
er and nearer, so that I could read the
smile of triumph on the steersman’s
dark face and hear his cry of exulta
tion Nearer, and then with a cry I
dropped my oars.
"Quick!” X panted to my companions.
“Change places with me! So!" Trem
bling and out of breath as I was, X
crawled between the women and
gained the stern sheets of the boat. As
I passed the Mistress Bertram she
cluLched mv arm. Her eyes, as they
met mine, flashed fire; her lips were
white. "The man steering!” she hissed
between her teeth. “Leave the others.
He Is Clarence, and I fear him!”
I nodded, but still, as the hostile boat
bore swiftly down upon us. I cast a
glance around to see If there were any
help at hand. 1 saw no sign of any.
I saw only the pale biue| sky overhead
and the stream flowing swiftly under
the boat, r drew my sword. The case
was one rather for despair than cour
age. The women were In my charge,
and. If i did not acquit myself like a
man now, when should I do so? Bali,
it would soon be over!
There was an instant's confusion In
tile other boat as the crew ceased row
ing. and. seeing my attitude, and not
liking it, changed their seats. To my
joy the man who had hitherto been
steering Hung a curse at the others and
came forward to bear the brunt of the
encounter. He was a tall, sinewy man,
p st middle age, with a clean shaven
face, a dark complexion and cruel eyes,
So tie was Master Clarence! Weil, he
had the air of a swordsman and a sol
dier. I trembled for the women.
"Surrender, you fool!" lie cried to me
harshly. "In the queen's name, do you
hear? What do you In this company?”
1 answered nothing, for X was out of
breath. But softly, my eyes on his. I
drew out with my left hand my hunt
ing knife. If I could beat aside his
sword. 1 would spring upon him and
drive the knife home with that hand.
So., standing erect in bow and stern, we
faced one another, the man and the boy.
the flush of rage and exertion oil my
cheek, a dark shade on his. And si
lently the boats drew together.
Thought Is quick—quicker than any
thing else in the world. I suppose, for
In some drawn out second before the
boats came together I had time to won
der where I had seen his face before
anl to rack my memory. 1 knew no
Master Clarence, yet I had seen this
man somewhere. Another second, and
o way with thought! He was crouching
for a spring. 1 drew back a little, then
lunged—lunged with heart and hand.
Our swords crossed and whistled—Just
crossed—and even as I saw hts eyes
gleam behind his point the shock of the
two boats coming together flung us
both backward and apart. A moment
we reeled, staggering and throwing out
wild hands. 1 strove hard to recover
myself—nay. I almost did so—then I
caught my foot in Mistress Anne's
cloak, which she had left in her place,
and fell heavily back into the boat.
I was up in a moment—on my knees at
least—and unhurt. But another was
before me. As 1 stooped, half risen. I
saw one moment a dark shadow aliove
me, and the next a sheet or flume shone
before my eyes, and a tremendous
shock swept all away. I fell senseless
Into the bottom of the boat, knowing
nothing of what had happened to me.
(Continued Next Week.)
The Mississippi as a Seaboard.
Herbert Quick in March Putnam's
and The Reader: Is there any natural
and dominating artery in the drainage
of the continent, "the magnitude and
extent of which marks It as the inevit
able center of any system which we
may adopt? The answer of every man
with a map of the continent in his
mind is that there is such a waterway,
and that it Is the Mississippi river. This
is the nation’s great asset in inland
navigation. It must be the keystone
of the arch of our waterways system,
the backbone which must uphold out
perfected transportation plan, the aorta
of our Ideal traffic-circulation.
The highest estimate ever advanced
for a 30-foot channel from the gulf to
the lakes is $34o,000.000, and this must
be fully t>0 per cent over the mark.
Will It pay? This, with the many, is
the sole question. What shall we get
for our money if we spend $300,000,000
to bring the ocean to the farm? B'lve
billion dollars must be spent within a
few years oh transportation account.
In any case; for our congested railway
conditions must be remedied. Slicing
the continent through from Quebec to
New Orleans with a new seubourd
would cut through the congested freight
yards like a surgeon's knife through a
tumor, and extend its direct influence
to every city from which truffle might
be billed up or down the new naviga
tion. Southern cotton, lumber and coal
under the new rates would find their
market enlarged many fold, and North
ern corn, hay anil wheat would reach
cheaply a hundred Southern cities now
suffering for them. Our great lake
ships would pass out into the gulf, re
store to the salt seas our merchant mu
rine and earn profits during winters
now spent In Idleness. The seaboard,
instead of being at New York or Uai
j veston, would be at t’hicago. St. Louis
I or Memphis.
This Escaped Drowning.
St. Joseph News-Press: The Bar
bel -You and your brother are such
young men 1 often wonder why you're
so bald.
Cuttinghim—If you'll promise not to
say anything about it I II tell you.
The Barber—I won't say a word.
Cuttinghim (whispering)—Our hair
fell out!
The Great Eastern, whicli made her
maiden trip just half a century ago.
'.as not a financial success until she
i ecame a cable repair vessel several
years after.
I ■
J I
i
. cwMT^.r w
. W-MW
Mr Min Nftiyyi'fjm.
(Copyright, 190C. by W. ft. Hearst.)
The bright glare of a blazing lar
Barrel far out at sea, where the break
ers dashed high on the Goodwin sands,
was seei: by the coastguard on the
bench as soon as it Hared. It Illumined
the spectral shape of a large sailing
vessel stranded on that dangerous
British shoal. The southerly gale blew
furiously, the rain poured in torrents.
It was a wild tempestuous night, dark
as pitch, with no gleam of moon or
star to br ighten the sky, but there was
a white stieeti oil the seaward horizon,
when, the surf beat on the great bank
of sand which has proved the ceme
tery cf thousands of fine ships.
The sturdy coastguard, on the alert
for such signals of disaster, pressed
the electric button which gave the
alarm to the lifeboat house on the
beach at Deal. The crew responded
to the call, and despite the fury of the
storm, a little knot of curious people
gathered at the edge of the sea to see
the lifeboat launched. Among thorn
Was ’oil'* young woman, the sister of
the. captain of the volunteer crew of
the lifeboat, whom a sense of Impend
ing disaster had induced to accompany
her brother and see him embark.
“Why so nervous, Nora dear?"
laughed Dick Satterthwaite, as the im
pulsive girl clung to him Just as lie
was about to embark. "This will make
my twentieth trip and on each we
have saved life.”
So saying he tore himself from the
embrace of the trembling girt, and
climbing Into the lifeboat gave the sig
nal for the launch. In a few minutes
the buoyant craft was battling with
the big naves and steering a course
for the blazing beacon on the deck of
the stranded vessel. Fiercely the gale
blew and strident, was its shriek, as
once clear of the breakers the crew of
the lifeboat set the lugsall, the direc
tion of the wind being such as to al
: most washed ana Mown out of them,
j they descended from their tempest -
l stricken aerie aloft and stood by for
I an opportune moment to leap into the
i sea.
! The coxswain deftly sheered the life
boat within a fathom of the side of the
1 wreck, where the raging waves seethed
\ and swirled. Prave men watched to
save the men as they jumped for their
lives. One heroic fellow essayed the
plunge. A few vigorous strokes and he
I was grasped and hauled safely aboard
the lifeboat. Ills successful example
! stimulated die rest. Nine others, all
j that survived, were rescued
The coxswain had been so actively
engaged with his steering oar inkeeping
the lifeboat cleat of tlie wreck that lie
had no time to look after the rescued.
But when the last mail was hauled
aboard, the anchor hoisted and the life
boat headed back for Deal, he relin
quished the helm to a trusty member
j of his crew and went among the men
whose rescue was due to his pluck and
skill. He produced his brandy flask
and gave each enfeebled being a “nip.”
One man ill the gloom of the storm
struck him as being familiar. Opening
a little flash ,n which he kept his wind
matches safe from the wet, lie touched
off the fuse of a blue light. Itp fire
shone out origh‘ and its pale glare
flashed on tile face of his sister's sweet
heart, Harry Hobden! The penetrating
spirit revived the sunken man, but not
sufficiently' lor him to recognize his old
chum, whose duty railed him away im
mediately to take the helm of tlie life
boat.
Nora was waiting for her brother's
return. Cn t ie ores o a swirling eom
| ber the life! oat \va-' hurled onto tile
I beach. A big crowd hauled her up. The
j rescued seamen were taken out. Sat
| terthwaite had reserved one pleasure
! for himself. He kept Hobden aboard
) till the last. Nora's lover had fully re«
lowr her to sail for the wreck. In a
little while she had disappeared in
the wild smother of the storm and
Nora sought shelter In the lifeboat
house to watch and wait for the return
of her brother, for whose safety she
fervently and tearfully prayed.
Nora Satterthwatte was an orphan
of 120. who kept house for her only
brother, Dick, a sturdy young business
man of eight and twenty, the coxswain
of the ’ifeboat crew, as brave and dar
ing a man as ever maneuvered a
craft In the boiling surf of the Good
wins. Very proud was pretty Nora of
her stalwart brother, whose prowess
had won him man medals of the Royal
Humane soetety. Ordinarily she was
a bravo and hearty youug woman, who
looked on the brighter side of things
and sent her brother off to his sea
duty v ith a cheery word and en
couraging smile. But on this occasion
she felt unaccountably nervous and
low spirited. This may have been be
cause her sweetheart, Harry Hobden,
mate of a bark in the t'hina trade,
was lour overdue. The Firefly was
now 100 days out from Hong Kong,
and fears were felt for her safety.
Nora had by no means given up her
lover for lost, but she was anxious
about hir., and when the sudden mid
night summons called oul the lifeboat’s
: crew her feelings were too much for
her. She wrapped herself up In her
warmest cloak and followed her broth
er to the bench, and with palpitating
heart gazed at the boat lighting with
the sea until it vanished in the murky
gloom of the night.
Meanwhile the lifeboat had reached
the wreck The greu* white combers
were dashing her to pieces, tearing at
! her until she had lost al! semblance
i of a ship. Tlie seas breaching over her
i battered deck had forced the crew
j aloft, into the maintop, where they
! clung waiting for the end. The burn
ing of blue lights ashore assured them
that their fl: .re had been seen, but even
the most sanguine scarcely dared to
hope that nueeor could come out to
them in th. teetu of a tempest so
j blustering i nd a sea so raging.
The lifeboat anchored ahead of the
I wreck and v-ored away rope until she
j was abreast of the ship, but of such
I a distance ; leeward that there was
no danger of being dashed against her.
The men in the rigging of the wreck
1 did not see the lifeboat until her cox
swain lig' ted a b'oe light, whose spec
tral glare illumined the boat plunging
1 in the raging and seething salt spume,
! its weird flame playing on the spray
| drenched crew, each with his eorlt
life belt round his waist and a yel
low sou’wester on his head.
The only chance of rescue for the
sailors on the wreck was to make a
daring plunge into the watery abyss
and try to svvi.n across the yeasty
; chasm whirl, divided the ship from lilt
lifeboat. The coxswain, with the Iona
steering sweep in It la nervous grasp
' stood ready to sheer tte boat us dose
to the wreck as he elated. The seantet:
aloft watched their chance for a smoott
spell—that is. an Interval when tht
raging waves relaxed* for a while titeii
ferocity. Slowly, tor the iife was al
i vivied by this time, and as he sprang
I out of the lifeboat immediately after
I'Nora had clasped her arms round her
! brother’s neck, Dick untwined them
and said;
"Nora, iny dear, I have brought your
sweetheart ashore. Doesn’t he deserve
a welcome, too?”
In a moment the two lovers eim
braced.
Strenuous Life Pays.
From the St. Paul Dispatch.
It is startling evidence of the effect or
Improved sanitary method* that, where
the average age at death of persons dying
in 1875 was 18 years. It is now 32. The
I usual length of life has been doubled, ao
I cording to some figures compiled by mu
nicipal engineering, which show the above
result in Che ago, between 1875 and 1905,
and a reduction of the death rate from
23.88 per thousand to 14.7J. Vet that Latter
figure is very high, compared with 9.8 In
St. Paul in 1908.
The greatest saving of life by clrio
cleanliness is, as mighc naturally be ex
pected, among children under 5 years of
age. Where there were 355 to the thou
sand dying in 1890, in the whole United
I States, there were only 308 in 1900. Better
| methods of treating infantile diseases and
i the general advance in medical scienc#
are great factors In this result, which
goes without saying, but It is also re
I markable that the reduction In deaths
I continues up to the age or 35. From that
! time on, there is a groat proportion of
(deaths, which is natural, as peo-ple nuuat
I die some timt.
Some timid persona havo suggested that
I the strenuous lite of today is killing ofT
the human race and pointed to the great
; er frequency of deaths above 35 years of
(age. It is an answer to that statement
I that some of those lives saved under 35
j year* must be ended after passing that
age, but that Is not the only evidence on
(the question. 1.1 1S7C only 3.7 per cent, of
those who died liad reached the age of
80, while in 1905 the percentage above that
age was 19.8. There were as many persons
: over 80 years old In 1905 as there were (
i over GO in 1875. It is a marvelous record.
| Within a quarter of a century persons
! over 80 have become as common as those
over GO used to be.
If the active life has had any injurious
effect upon the vitality of the people, that
Influence must have been more than over
come by greater knowledge, wLeiy ap
plied. Jt Is certainly open to dispute
whether Increased intensity of life has
had any tencien *y to shorten longevity.
On the contrary • that disposition may
have prolonged tho existence of the peo
ple.
From the Somerville Journal.
Alice—Are you sure he is a college
i man?
Maud—Why, yes; what made you
; doubt It?
Alice-Why. he never uses any slang.
From Ti:-Bit*.
Bill—These motor car drivers seem
; to think the ordinary pedestrians art
beneath them.
i Bob—Well, too ofteu they &r*
-
Time and Motion.
From the Philadelphia Ledger.
A traveler, finding that he had a
couple of hours in Dublin, called a
»ab and told the driver to drive him
around for two hours. At first all went
| well, but soon the driver began to whip
[ up liis horse so that they narrowly en
j caped several collisions.
“What's the matter?” demanded the
passenger, “Why are you driving so
recklessly? I’m in no hurry.”
“Ah. g'wan wid yez.” retorted the
cabby. "D’ye think I’m goin’ to put in
the whole day drivin’ you around for
two hours? Gltap!”
Boston i« in hard luck. Just as the city
's* recovering from the financial panic it Is
struck with a shortage of the beari crop.
' •
.
Canada’s new transcontinental rail
way from Moncton on the Atlantic to
Prince Rupert on the Pacific, a distance
of rather more than 3.000 miles, is fully
under way and is to be completed by
December 1, 1911, at cost of $200,000,
000.
That earthworms as well hs squirrels
may aid the forester is the novel sug
gestion of an American naturalist. Dry*
maple seeds are drawn Into worm bur
ro ws, where they sprout, and it is be
lieved that some of them must survive
|n favorably moist seasons.
Attention homeseekers, 320 acres free
government land for farming and graz
ing. Millions of acres to choose from.
Fine soil. Water plentiful. Send 2r. cents
in stamps for full information. Wiebko
& Co., locators. Miles City, Mont.
Several companies have been organ
ized of late to raise coffee, sisal, and
cattle in German Last Africa. Ostrich
farming is also receiving attention. Al
falfa is raised as food for the birds.
The total value of the stone product
of the country in 1906 was $66,378,794. an
increase of $2,370,046 over that of 1905.
and in increase of $42,413,565 over that
of 1896.
The Earth-Hour.
The earth was made in twilight, and tha
non r
Of blending dusk and dew is still her
own.
Soft as it < omes with promise and with
power
Of folded heavens, lately sunset-blown.
Then we who know the bitter breath of
earth.
Who hold her every rapture for a pain.
Vet leave the travail of celestial birth
To wipe our tears upon the dusk agalru
But vain: the spirit takes, in sovereign
mood.
A sure revenge, as in some tree a?iart
A whippoorwill sets trembling all the
wood—
The silence mends more quickly than tha
heart
—Charles L. O’Donnell, in the April At
lantic
An Irish Answer.
Washington Star: "Secretary Oor
telyou was discussing." said a New
York broker, "a question of finance
during the panic. He broke off to tell
a story.
He said he was reminded of the Irish
farmer on the day to the cattle fair.
" 'Where are you going, ray man?*
said an English tourist, stopping this
agriculturist.
" 'To Waterford fair, your honor,' waa
the answer.
"The Englishman looked approvingly
at the heifers the other was driving.
“ ‘And how much do you expect to
get for your beasts at Waterford fair?"
he asked.
“ Sure, an’ if I get £S a head I shan’t
do badly.’ said the Irishman.
“ 'Ah. that’s a sample of your coun
try.' said the Englishman severely.
"Take those heifers In England and
you’d average £14 a head for them.’
"The Irishman laughed.
" Just so, yer honor.’ he said, ‘and
if yez were to take the Eake of Kill
arney to purgatory yez would get a
guinea a drop ’ "
THEY GBOW
krtwl Hon»i»r kh:I 4'laeerfatueaa from
Right Food.
Cheerfulness is like sunlight. It dis
pels the clouds from the mind as sun
light chases away the shadows of
night.
The good humored man can pick up
and carry off a load that the man with
a grouch wouldn’t attempt to lift.
Anything that interferes with good
health is apt to keep cheerfulness and
good humor in the background. A
Washington lady found that letting cof
fee alone made thiugs bright for her.
She writes:
“Four years ago I was practically
given up by my doctor and was not ex
pected to live long. My nervous sys
tem was in a bad condition.
“Hut I was young and did not want
to die, so 1 beg.iu to look about for th«
cause of my chronic trouble. I used to
have nervous s|»lls which would ex
haust me and after each spell it would
take me days before I could sit up in
a chair.
"1 became convinced my trouble was
caused by coffee. I decided to stop it
and bought some Postiuu.
"The first cup. which I made accord
ing to directions, had a southing effect
on my nerves and l liked the taste.
For a time I nearly lived on Postum
and ate little food besides. 1 am to
day a healthy woman.
"My family and relatives wonder if
I am the same person I was four
years ago. when l could do uo work
on account of nervousness. Now I am
doing my own housework, take care of
two babies—one twenty, the other two
months old. I am so busy that I hard
ly get time to write a tetter, yet I do
it all with the cheerfulness and good
humor that comes from enjoying good
health.
"I tel! my friends It Is to Postum l
owe my life to-day."
Name giveu by Postum Co.. Battle
Creek. Mich. Bead “The Road to Weil,
viile,’’ iti ykgs. “There's a Reason."
