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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (April 30, 1908)
- - - - - ------- - - - - - ~I | __THE___. I Story of Francis Cludde A Romance of Queen Mary's Reign. BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN. CHAPTER VIU—Continued. We went eagerly forward at the news •.ml saw In a kind of bay, formed by a lakelike expansion of the river, a little island green and low. Its banks trimly set with a single row of poplars. It was perhaps a quarter of a tnle ev ery way, and a channel one-fourth as wide separated It from the nearer shore of the river, to which, however, a long narrow bridge of planks laid on trestles gave access, un the outer side of the Island, facing the river’s course, stood a. low white house, before which was a sloping green terrace, also bordered with poplars, led down to a tiny pier. Behind and around the house were meadows as trim and neat as a child's toys, over which the eye roved with pleasure until It reached the landward side of the Island, and there detected, nestling among gardens, a tiny village of half a dozen cottages. It was a Scene of enchanting peace and quietude. As we slowly plowed out way up to the landing place I saw the rabbits stand to gaze at us, and then with a flick of their heels, dart oft to their holes. I marked the cattle moving homeward In a string and heard the wild fowl rise In creek and pool with a whir of wings. I turned with a full heart to my neighbor. "Is It not love ly?" 1 cried with enthusiasm. "Is It not a peaceful place—a very garden of Eden?" I looked to see her fall Into raptures such as women are commonly more prone to than men. But all women are not the same. Mistress Anne was looking. Indeed, when I turned and sur prised her, at the scene which had so moved me, but the expression of her face was sad and bitter and utterly' melancholy. The weariness and fatigue I had often seen lurking In her eyes had Invaded all her features. She looked five years older—no longer a girl, but a gray faced, hopeless woman, whom the sights of tills peaceful haven rather smote 10 the heart than tilled with anticipations of safety and re pose. It was but for a moment I saw her «o. Then she dashed her hand across her eyes—though 1 saw no tears In them—and with a pettish exclamation turned away. "Poor girl:-' I thought. 'Stic, too, Is homesick. No doubt this reminds her of some places at home or some other person." I thought this more than likely, as Master Bertie came from Lincolnshire, which, he said, had many or the features of this •trnnge land, and H was conceivable enough that she should know Lincoln shire, too, being related to his wife. I soon forgot the matter in the ex citement of landing. A few minutes of bustle and it was over. The boat put out again, and we four were left face to lace with two strangers, an elderly man and a girl, who had come down to the pier to meet us. The former, •tout, bluff and red faced, with a thick gray beard and a gold chain about Ills neck, had the air of a man of posi tion. He greeted us warmly. His com panion, who hung behind hltn, some what shyly, Was as pretty a girl as •one could find In a month. A second *ook assured me of something more— *ltat she formed an excellent foil to the •piquant brightness and keen vivacity, ■the dark hair and nervous features of Mistress Anne. For the Dutch girl was fair and plump and of perfect complexion. Her hair was very light, almost flaxen Indeed, and her eyes were ■oftly and Mmpidly blue—grave. Inno cent. wondering eyes they were, I re tnember. I guessed rightly that she was the elderly man’s daughter. Later ' 1 learned that she was his only child. «*nd that her name was Dymphna. He was a Master Llndstrom, a mer •«linnt of standing In Arnhelm. He hud •A'lsited England and spoke English "fairly, and being under some nblign rtlons. It appeared to the duchess, Svathcrlne was to be our Host. A\> all walked up the little avenue 'together. Master Llndstrom talking as Ihe went to husband or wife, while his •daughter and Mistress Anne came next grazing eaoh at each In silence, ns wom en when they first meet will gaze, tak ing stock, I suppose, of « rival’s weap ons, I walked last, wondering why they had nothing to say to one another. As we entered the house the mys tery was explained. "She speaks ‘no English," said Mistress Anne, with a Conch of »oorn. Ana w<* no Dtitch. I answered, mulling. ‘‘Here In Holland I am afraid that she will have somewhat the best of ns. Try her with Spanish." "Spanish: I know none." "Well, I do—a little." "What. you know Spanish?" Mis tress Anne’s tone of surprise amounted almost to Incredulity, and It nattered me. boy that 1 was. I dare say It •would have flattered many an older luud than mine. “You know Spanish" "Where did you learn It?"' she continued ■harply. •'At home." "At home. Where Is that?" And she ♦yvd me still more closely. "Where is your home. Muster Carey? You have never told me." Hut I had said already more than I Intended, and I shook my head. 'I mean," I explained awkwardly, "that I learned It In u home I once had. Now my home Is here. At any rate, I huve no other." The Dutch girl, standing patiently boride us, had looked Hrst at one face and then at the other as we talked. We were all by this time In a long, low parlor, warmed by a pretty closed ill - place covered with glazed tiles. On the shelves of a great armotre, or dresser, at one end of the room, ap peared a fine show of silver plate. At the other end stood a tall linen 1'iess of walnut wood. handsomely caived, and even the gratings of the windows and the handles of the doors »cre or nammered Ironwork. There l ire no rushes on the floor, which wax Wilde of small pieces of wood delicate ly Joined and set together and brightly Iiolished. But everything in sight was Clean and trim to a degree which would have shamed our great house »ti Coton. where the rushes sometimes lay for a week unchanged. With each etianee round I felt a livelier satisfac tion. I turned to Mistress Dymphna. j if noli t a." I said, mustering my no- I blest accent. ' Beso los pies de ustedl I H it iti-usted CistUlano?" Mistress Anne stared, while the ef- j f<-< t on the girl whom 1 addressed was i Winter than I had looked for. but cer- I vainly of a different kind. She started I and drew back, an expression of of- [ fended dignity and of something like | anger ruffling her plaild face. Did she : not understand'.' Yes, for after a mo- i ment's hesitation, and with a height en* d. color, she answered, ''Si, senor." Iler constrained manner was not prom ising, but 1 was going on to open a conversation if I could, for it looked lit tle grateful of us to stand there speech less and staring, when Mistress Anne liuei posed. "W hat did you say to her? W-.-.ut was it?” she asked eageily. T asked her If she spoke Spanish. That was all,” I replied, my eyes on Dymphna’s face, which still betrayed trouble of some kind, “except that I paid her the usual formal compliment. Hut what Is she saying to her father?” It was like the Christmas game of cross questions. The girl and I had spoken In Spanish. I translated what we had said Into English for Mistress Anne, and Mistress Dymphna turned It i into Dutch for her father, an anxious I look on her face which needed no translation. "What Is It?” asked Master Bertie, observing that something was wrong. "It is nothing—nothing," replied the merchant apologetically, though as he spoke his eyes dwelt on me curiously. “It is only that J did not know that you had a Spaniard In your company." “A Spaniard?" Master Bertie an swered. “We have none. This," point ing to me. “is our very good friend and faithful follower, Master Carey, an Englishman." "To whom," added the duchess, smiling gravely, "I am greatly In debted.” I hurriedly explained the mistake and brought at once a smile of relief to the mynheer’s race. "Ah, pardon me, I beseech you,” he said. “My daughter was In error.” And he add ed something In Dutch which caused Mistress Dymphna to blush. "You know," he continue^, ‘1 jtjay j^>eak freely to you, since our enemies hfe In the main the same—you know that our Spanish rulers are not very popu lar every day, especially with those who are of the reformed faith. We have learned, some of us, to speak their language, but we love them none the better for that.” "I can sympathize with you, In deed." cried the duchess impulsively. "God grant that our country may never be In the same plight, thought it looks as If this Spanish marriage were like to put us In It. It is Spain! Spain! Spain! and nothing else nowadays.” "Nevertheless the emperor Is a great and puissant monarch,” rejoined the Arnheimer thoughtfully, "and could he he rule us himself, we might do well. But his dominions are so large he knows little of us. And, worse, he Is dying, or as good as dying. He can scarcely sit his horse and rumor says that before the year is cut he will resign the throne. Then we hear little good of his successor, your queen's husband, and look to her less, f fear that there is a dark time be fore us, and God only knows the is sue.” “And alone will rule It," Master Bertie rejoined piously. This saying was In a way the key note to the life we found our host liv ing on his island estate. Peace, but peace with constant fear of an as sailant and religion for a supporter. Several times a week Master I.iml stront would go to Arnhelm to super intend his business, and always after his return he would shake his head and speak gravely, and Dymphna would lose her color for an hour or two. Things were going badly. The reformers were being more and more hardly dealt with. The Spaniards were growing more despotic. That was his constant report, and then I would see him, as he walked with us in orchard or garden or sat beside the stove, cast wistful glances at the comfort and plenty round him. I knew that he was asking himself how long they would last. If they escaped the dutches of a tyrannical government, would they he safe In the times that were com ing from the violence of an 111 paid soldiery? The answer was doubtful, or rather it was too certain. i sumeumes wonaereu now ne could patiently foresee such possibilities and take no steps, whatever the risk, to prevent them. At first I thought his patience sprang from the Dutch character Later I traced Its deeper roots to a simplicity of faith and a deep religious feeling, which either did not at that time exist In Eng land or existed only among people with whom I had' never come in contact. Here they seemed common enough and real enough. These folks' faith sus tained them. It was part of their lives —a bulwark against the fear that oth erwise would have overwhelmed them. And to att extent, too, which then sur prised me, I found, as time went on. that the duchess and Master Bertie shared this enthusiasm, although with them It took a less obtrusive form. I was led at the time to think a good deal about this, and just ft word I may say of myself and of those days spent, on the Rhine island—that where as before I had taken but a lukewarm interest in religious questions, and while clinging Instinctively to the teaching of my childhood had conformed with a light heart rather than annoy tnv uncle. I eume to think somewhat dif ferently now, differently and more se riously. And so I have continued to think since, though I have never be come a bigot, a fact I owe perhaps to Mistress Dymphna, In whose tender heart there was room for charity as well as faith, for she was my teacher. Of necessity, since no other of our party could communicate with her I became more or less the Dutch girl’s companion. I would often of an even ing loin her on a wooden bench which stood under an elm on a little spit of grass looking toward the city and at some distance from the house. Here when the weather was warm, she would watch for her father's return, and here, one day while talking with her. I had the opportunity of witnessing a sight unknown In England, hut which year by year was to become more common in the Netherlands, more heavily fraught with menace In N'ethetland eyes. vs e uappenea to be so deeply engaged In watching the upper end of the beach at the time In question, where we ex pected each moment to see Master Undstrom s boat round the point, that we saw nothing of a boat coming the other way until the llapping of Us sails as It tacked drew our eyes toward it. Keen then In the boat itself 1 saw noth ing strange, but In its passengers 1 did. They were swarthy, mustachioed men. Who In the hundred poses they assumed, as they lounged on deck or leaned over the side, never lost a pe culiar air of bravado. As they drew nearer to us the sound of their loud voltes, their oaths and laughter reached us plainly and seemed 10 jar on the evening's stillness. Their bold, tierce eyes, raking the banks unceasingly, reached us at last. The girl by my side uttered a cry of alarm and rose as If to retreat. But she sat down again, for behind us was an open stretch of turf, and to escape unseen was Impossible. Already a score of eyes hud marked her beauty, and as the boat drew abicaet of us I had to listen to the ribald Jests and laughter of those on board. My ears tingled and my cheeks burned. But I could do noth 1 ‘ng. I cot-d only glare at them and ! grind my teeth. "Who are they?" I mutter<5.4. "Th* cowardly knaves!" . ' “Oh. hush! hush!" thet'.j'rl pleaded. She had retreated behind me. And in deed I need not have put my question, for though I had never seen the Span ish soldiery I had' heard enough about them to recognize them now. In the year 1555 their reputation was at Its height. Their fathers had overcome the Moors after a contest of centuries, and they themselves had overrun Italy and lowered the pride of France. As a re sult, they hud many military virtues and all the military vices. Proud, bloodthirsty and licentious everywhere. It may be imagined that In the sub ject Netherlands, with their pay always In arrear, they were indeed people to be feared. It was seldom that even their commanders dared to check their excesses. Yet when the first flush of my anger had subsided I looked after them, odd as It may Heem, with mingled feelings. With all their faults they were few against many, a conquering race in a foreign land. They could boast of blood and descent. They were proud to call themselves the soldiers and gen tlemen of Europe. I was against them, yet I admired them with a boy's admir ation for the strong and reckless. Of course I said nothing of this to my companion. Indeed, when she spoke to me, I did not hear her. My thoughts had flown far from the burgher’s ! daughter sitting by me and were with my grandmother’s people. I saw In imagination, the uplands of Old Castile, as I had often heard them described hot in summer and bleak In winter. I pictured the dark, frowning walls of Toledo, with Its hundred Moorish trophies, the castles that crowned the hills around, the gray olive groves and the box clad slopes. I saw Palencia Where my grandmother, Petronilla' de Vargas, was born; Palencia dry and brown and sun baked, lying squat and low on Its plain, the eaves of its cath edral a man’s height from the ground. All this I saw. I suppose the Spanish blood in me awoke and asserted Itself at sight of those other Spaniards. And then—then I forgot It ail as I heard behind me an alien voice, and I turned and found Dymphna had stolen from me and was talking to a stranger. CHAPTER IX. He was a young man, and a Dutch man. hut not a Dutchman of the stout, burly type which I had most common ly seen In the country. He had, it Is true, the usual fair hair and blue eyes, and he was rather short than tall, but His figure was thin and meager, and he had a pointed chin and a scanty fair beard. I took him to be nearsighted. At a second glance I saw that he was angry. He was talking fast to Dymphna—of course in Dutch—and my first Impulse. In face of his excited gestures and queer appearance, was to laugh. Rut I had a notion what his relationship to the girl was, and I smothered this, and instead asked as soon as I could get a word In, whether I should leave them. “Oh, no!" Dymphna answered, blush ing slightly and turning to me with a troubled glance. I believe she had clean torgotten my presence. "This is Master Jan Van Tree, a good friend of ours and this,” she continued, still in Span ish, but speaking to him, " is Master Carey, one of my father's guests " We bowed formally, for he had not recovered his temper, and —I dare say I still had my Spanish ancestors In my head—with condescension. We dis liked one another at sight. I think I dubbed him a mean little fellow' a trader, a peddler, and. however ’ he classed me. It was not favorably. So It was no particular desire to please him which led me to say with outward solicitude, "I fear you are annoyed at something, Master Van Tree.” A arT1" said bluntly, meeting me half way. "And am I to know the cause?" T asked, "or Is It a secret?" it Is no secret!" he retorted. "Mis tress Llndstrom should have been more careful. She should not have exposed herself to the chance of being seen by those miserable foreigners.” "The foreigners—In the boat?” I said dryly. Yes. of course—in the boat.” he an swered. He was obliged to say that, but he glared at me across her as he spoke. We turned and were walking back to the house, the poplars casting long shadows across our path. "They were rude.” I observed care lessly. my chin very hfgh. “But there is no particular harm done that I can see. Master Van Tree." "Perhaps not, as far as you can see ” he retorted in great excitement. “But perhaps also you are not very farsight ed. You may not see it now, yet harm will follow." “Possibly," I said, and I was going to follow up this seemingly candid ad mission by something very boorish when Mistress Dymphna struck in ner \ ously. "My father is anxious," she explained, speaking to me, "that I should have as little to do with our Spanish gov ernors as possible. Master Carey. It always vexes him to hear I have falien . In their way, and that is why my friend’ Cels annoyed. It was not. of course, jour fault, since you did not know of1 this. It was I,” she continued hurried ly, "who should not have ventured to the elm tree without seeing that the coast was clear." (Continued Next Week.) A Courteous Repulse. Tit-Bits: There was an ignorant man who once applied to President Lincoln for the post of doorkeeper to the House. This man had no right to ask Lin coln for anything. It was necessary to repulse hhn. But Lincoln repulsed him gently and whimsically, without hurting his feelings in this way: "So you want to be doorkeeper to the House, *h?" "Yes, >lr. President." "Well, have you ever been a door keeper? Have you ever had any ex perience of doorkeeping?" "Well, no—no actual experience, sir.” "Any theoretical experience? Aliy In structions In the duties and ethics of doorkeeping?" "L'm—no.” "Have you ever attended lectures on doorkeeping?" "No, sir." "Have you read any text books on the subject?" "No." "Have you conversed with anyone who has read such a book?" "No, sir; I'm afraid not, sir." "Well, then, my friend, don’t you see i hat you haven't a single qualification for this important post?" said Lincoln, hi a reproachful tone. "Yes. I do.” said the applicant, and he took leave humbly, almost grate fully. _ A Youthful Sociologist. New York Times: "Everything has its cause, its simple and striking and satisfactory cause, if we can but And it." said J. McKee Borden, secretary of the department of charities, at a ban quet In New York. "Take the question of poverty and wealth. "Once In a miserable slum I heard two little beggars talking. " ‘Why Is It.' said the first, 'that the poor is alius more willin' to help us than the rich?' "The second answered promptly and bitterly: "'Them wot don’t mind givln' is the ones wot stays poor.’ i Juarez Is a Mexican town of some size. Irrigating canals run through its ' principal roads enforcing the growth of a narrow green patch on the dusty, bar ren soil and nourishing long lines of j fruit trees. High walls of sun-baked j mud bricks border the roads, along i which the dark-skinned inhabitants in their gaudy serapes drive the Mexican burros loaded with mesqult wood. The j streets are in lines of straggling one i story stores, many filled with Mexican 1 curios, queer little brown cloth or waxen figures, representing the occu pations of the people and miniature pottery, rude Imitations of the cook ing and drinking utensils of the coun try. From a patio back of one of these stores on an exquisite moonlight night came the dulcet tones of a young girl's voice singing “Sobre las Olas." The sound so perfectly accorded with the silvery night It seemed as though the moonlight radiated in sweet music. To the accompaniment of Antonio’s guitar sang Benita Flores. This lovely Mexi can girl was the soul of music, and whether the melody was grave or gay He knew the ways of women. "Benlti did I not swear to marry you?" “Yes,” she answered, tearfully, he head bowed down with the shame o it ail. "I do not wish to marry you at th« pistol’s point. Send these people away and I shall make Immediate arrange ments to marry you as a man of my standing should.” Benita pleaded for her own undoing, and in the end her father, brother and the priest with drew. Ralph Cassing seized her fiercely in his arms. ’’Marry you!” he whispered savagely. “Marry you! Never!" and flinging her from him he ran for the door. Out of the shadow sprang Antonio Horeta, and a bullet whizzed by Ralph's head as he made his escape to the street. Mad with the desire to avenge Benita. Antonio pursued, firing. In that frontier town shooting was too com mon an occurrence to even arouse the inhabitants from sleep. Ralph felt his enemy gaining upon him. Having no means of defense he must baffle his pursuer. He was ap m vpon no m w mm Homy >y hi) m m m im <m she would stir the passions of the world. The Are of love burned in the dark eves of Antonio Loreta, softening his stern features as he leaned toward the sweet singer. Suddenly the music stopped abruptly. Only the fountain splashed, sdashed In the silver light. In the glare of the oil lamp of the store stood a tall man about to join the musicians fn the cool patio. Benito started to her feet with a glad cry of welcome, but Antonio sunk Into the shadow. Ralph Gassing crossed! rapidly to the girl. "Why did you send for me?" he said. In his large black eyes there was neither tenderness nor love to answer the animal like devotion In her own. Benlta’s eyes flashed at the question, and she stamped her small foot. "You neglect me,” she said angrily, "You would not be herejiow If I had' not sent for you. They say you are going to marry that blond doll In El Paso, but you swore to marry me.” There was pain and terror In her face as she paused—what if he should fall, her? It was true Benlta had not been pro tected as her Mexican sisters. Her edu cation in the United States had given her a self reliance that deluded her fa ther Into believing his orphan daughter could take care of herself. Ralph Gassing smiled his slow, cold blooded smile down at the angry, flushed face; then something hap pened. Three peonle entered the court. Senor Flores, his son, Juan and Padre Jacinto. As Ralph turned Juan sprang upon his back and pinioned his arms by ills side in an iron grip. "Good people," said Ralph, with a sneer, "may I ask the meaning of this violence?” "It means," said Senor Flores as he made an emphatic pass with his sliver mounted revolver, "that you shall marry my daughter, Benlta. whom you have wronged. The priest fs waiting." Completely taken by surprise, and unarmed, Ralph tvas at their mercy. He tried stratagem. Benlta loved him. proaching what appeared to be a sunk en adobe with only a window above the sidewalk. The window was open, and heedless of what he might en counter within, he Spitfug through the aperture. Instead of landing on a floor, two or three feet below the win dow, he continued his descent, almost losing consciousness in the diaaty whirl through space. With a dull thud he struck the hard ground floor. Soft bodies pressed against him, and as he tried to raise himself the moving ob jects uttered weird cries. These sounds were repeated in every part of the room. He recoiled In horror, and as he rested a moment he saw. some ten or twelve feet above him, the little win dow he had so rashly entered. The bright moonlight streaming in failed to light up the dungeon into which he had fallen. Kven as he looked up, the window darkened and Antonio fell upon him. knife in hand. The third figure at the window, a United States custom official, heard only the groans of a dying man. He forced an entrance into the sheep fold from the other street and raised the unconscious Antonio from the pros trate body of Halph Cassing. Antonio, in falling, had burled his knife to the hilt in the heart of Benita’s betrayer. In ano.aer moment a crowd had gathered1, but Ralph Cassing was be yonu help. The coroner's jure returned a ver dict of "death by accident," thus ac cpxittine Antonio Loreta of the crime of murder. The customs official testified that he found the accused man un conscious as he lr-t<l fallen with his knife buried in the heart of Ralph Casring. It made a sensational story for the papers. A lovely Mexican girl, wronged by an Americau. who met with a horrible death in an uncanny sheepfold at the hands of an uncon scious man. Perhaps the day came when broken-hearted Benita lifted up her head and accepted the hand of faithful Antonio Uoreta. An Implication. It was a Saturday night and all parts of the theater were crowded. In the gallery a young woman sat In front of a corpulent man. who caused much annoyance by his frequent and free observances. The lady's patience became ex hausted, and turning round to her tor mentor, she delivered a sharp rebuke. “I wish you would be quiet, sir, and remember that we did not come here to listen do your Impertinent remarks.” "Very well. 'Liza,” said the gar rulous one, “but pray don't eat me." "You are In no danger,” replied the young woman. "I am a Jewess.” William R. Smith, a Scotchman by birth, is about to complete his 55th year as superintendent of the botanical garden In Washington. He says he has served the federal government In the same position longer than any other of its employes. The Critic’s Shrug. During William Archer’s American visit a young actress, at a dinner, con gratulated the noted dramatic critic on the unswerving fairness of his re views. “And It Is hard. It is even cruel, sometime* isn't it, to be fair?" she said. "Yes." said Mr. Archer, smiling, "to he fair is sometimes hard and cruel, and sometimes It Is rash. You know there are reprisals. The un swervingly fair critic often takes up his pen with the shrug of Omar, the old Persian poet. "You have heard of Omar's shrug? No? Well, it Is eloquent. The shah, one day sent for the old poet. - •Omar,’ said he, 'I have written seme verses Listen and I will read them to yo ••And he read the verses, and In the ensuing silence looked at Omar anx iously. ‘ v\ ell ?’ he said. " Heaven born,- s«ld Outar, gently. each to his own calling. Scepter in hand, you are most wise. Just and pow erful; but pen In hand’—Omar shook his head and chuckled. ’Heaven-born,' said he, ‘such verses would disgrace a 9-year-old schoolboy.' "His eyes flashed with rage, the shah shouted to his guards: “ "To the stables with this old fool, and let him be soundly flogged.’ "Yet the shah, for all, respected Omar's Judgment, and when a week later, another Idea for a poem came to his mind and was feverishly executed, he sent for the fearless and fair critic again. ■' 'Another poem, Omar. A better one. I'm sure you'll think it Is a bet ter one,’ he said wistfully. And he began to read the second poem to the old man. "But in the middle of the reading Omar turned and started for the door. “’Where are you going'.'’ said the shah In amazement. “Omar looked back and shrugged his shoulders. “ ‘To the stables,’ he answered, Tor another flogging.’ ’’ A Vacation. A certain scientist In the service of Uncle Sam at Washington is said to be a hard taskmaster to both his official and his domesic servants. Being detailed once to accompany a scientific expedition on an extended cruise, the scientist Is said to have un bent a trifle In communicating the news to his personal attendant. “Henty'," said he, ’’how would j ,<u like to go with me around the world?” "Do we go from east to west, sir?” asked the man. •Yes." "And we lose a day going that way, do we not. sir?” "We do.” "Then, sir. I should like very much I to go. It would give me a day oft.” Professor Smith, the Nebraska au thority on live stock feeding, says: I • have had experience In feeding rye to fattenln- hogs. Rye alone makes a fairly good fattening ration though it is less satisfactory than either corn or wheat. In tests made at the Ne' a ska station, we have found that rye .as a feeding value very nearly 10 per cent below wheat and practically the same per cent below corn. In composition it is much like wheat, but rye does not seem to be nearly as well relished, at least hogs will not eat as much rye as wheat on full feed. A mixture of equal parts of corn and rye make a much more satisfactory fattening ration than rye alone, and equal -arts of corn rv* and shorts is still better. ** Making Assurance Doubly Sura. From Christian Register. A 7-year-old had a great appetite for buckwheat cakes, and could stow away an amazing number. One morning his grandfather, who was watching the performance, asked: "Have you ever in yotrr life had all the buckwheat cakes that you could eat?” "Yes, sir,” replied the boy. “Lots of limes I've felt I'd had enough.” "How do you tell when you have had enough?" "I just keep on eating until I get a pain, and then I eat one more to make sure." WOMEN’S KIDNEYS Are the Soarce of Mont Women** Sleknen*. Mrs. Rebecca Mock, 1795 E. Rich street. Columbus, Ohio, writes: “I be lieve 1 would still be a victim of kid ney troubles but for Doan's Kidney Pills, for when I started using them I was in constant pain with my back, and no oth er remedy bad been sot any use. Tbe kid ney secretions were irregular, and I was nervous and lacked energy. But Doan's Kidney Pills gave me prompt, relief and continued use cured me." Sold hv all dealers, 50 cents a box. f'oster-Milburn Co.. Buffalo, N. Y. Poverty and Morality. Bernard Shaw's “Major Barbara.” Do you call poverty a crime? The worst of crimes. All the other crimes are virtues beside It. All the other dishonors are chivalry itself by comparison. Poverty blights whole a cities. spreads horrible pestilence, strikes dead the very souls of al.1 who come within sight, sound, or smelt of it. What you call crime Is nothing; a mur der here and 'a theft there, a blow now and a curse then; what do they matter? They are only the accidents and Ill nesses of life; there are not 50 genuine professional criminals in London. But there are millions of poor people;, abject people, dirty people; ill fed, iff clothed people. They poison us morality and physically; they kill the happiners of society; they force us to do away with our own liberties and to organize- un natural cruelties for fear they should rise against us and drag us down In y their abyss. Only fools fear crime; we all fear poverty. Bab! You talk of your half saved ruffian In the Salvation army shelter? Bring him, to, me here, and I will drag his 9out to, salvation for you. Not by words and' dreams, but by 38 shillings a week, a sound house In a handsome street, jandl a per manent job. In three weeks he will have a fancy waistcoat; ihi three months a tall hat and, a chapel, sitting; before the end of tbe year he will shake hands with a duchess at a Primrose league meeting and Join the conservative party. He will be better fed', better housed, better clothed, better behaved!, and hto children will be pounds heavier and bigger. That will be better than an American cloth mattress tn a shelter, chopping firewood, eating bread and treacle, and being forced to kneel down from time to time to. thank heaven for it; knee drill, I think you call lit. It ts cheap work converting starving men with a bible in one hand and a slice of bread in the other. I will undertake , to convert West Ham to Moliammedan ism on the same terms. Try your hand! on my workmen: their souls are hungry I because their bodies are full. BUILT BIGHT. B rain ud Nerves Beilorrd by I * r« |>e-\uU Favd. '1'lse number of persons whose ail ments were such that no other food could tie retained at all, is large and reports are on the Increase. “For 12 years I suffered from dys pepsia. dmling no food that did not dis tress me," writes a Wis. lady. “I was reduced from 145 to 90 lbs., gradually growing weaker until 1 could leave my bed only a short while at a time, and became unable to speak aloud. “Three years ago I was attracted by an article on Grape-Nuts and decided to try it. “My stomach was so weak I coaid not take cream, but I used Grape-Nuts with milk aud lime water. It helped me from the first, buildiug up my sys tem in a mauaer most astonishing to the friends who had thought my re covery impossible. “Soon I was able to take Grape Nuts and cream for breakfast, and lunch at night, with an egg and Grape Nuts for dinner. "1 am now able to eat fruit, meat and nearly ail vegetables for dinner, hut fondly contluue Grape-Nuts for breakfast aud supper. “At the time of beginning Grape Nuts l could scarcely speak a sentence without changing words around or ‘talking crooked' in some way, but my brain and nerves have become so strengthened that I no longer have that trouble.” “There’s a Besson.” Name given by Postum Co.. Battle Creek, Mich. Read “The Road to Well Tille," in pkgs. \ \