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| __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.
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