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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (May 28, 1908)
I - ■ , j __THE_ i Story of Francis Cludde A Romance of Queen Mary's Reign. i BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN. CHAPTER XI.—Continued. The words brought the duchess to fter knees by my chair. She tore open my doublet, through which the blend was oozing fast. I made no doubt that a was a dead man, for I had never been wounded In this way before, und the blood scared m I remember my pre vailing idea was a kind of stunned pity tor myself. Perhaps later—I hope so— ( should have come to think of Pe •rtmilla and my uncle and other peo ipie. But before this stage was reached •he duchess reassured me. ‘‘Courage, 3*d!” she cried heartily. "It Is all •right. Dick. Tho villain struck him on •he breast bone, an inch too low, and fcas just ripped up a scrap of skin. It ft** blooded him for the spring, that Is mil. A bit of plaster-" "And a drink of strong waters,” sug gested the Dutchman soberly; his •thoughts were always to tho point when •hev came. “Yes, that, too,” quoth my lady, "and fte will be all right." I thought so myself when I had •emptied the cup they offered me. I toad been a good deal shaken by the ■events of the day. The sight of blood •hail further upset me. I really think St possible I might havo died of tills •alight hurt and my Imagination if I tha<l been left to myself. But the duchess’ assurance and the draft of •Schnapps, which seemed to send new •blood through my veins, made me feel •shamed of myself. If the duchess would have let me, I would at once have •gone to search the premises. As It was, she made me sit 8*111 while she •can to and fro for hot water and pias ter, and the men searched the lower <®omns and secured the door afresh. "And so you could see nothing of fhlm?" our host asked when he and blaster Bertie returned, weapons In thand. "Nothing of his figure or face?" “Nothing, save that he was short," I •answered, “shorter than I am, at any spate, and I fancy a good deal.” "A good deal shorter than you are?” ■any tady said uneasily. "That is no selew. In this country nine people out •f 10 are that, Clarence, now. Is not.” "No," I suld. "He Is about the same tftelght. It was not Clarence." "Then who could It be?" she ma ttered, rising and then with a quick ehudder sitting dow'n again. "Heaven ftelp us, wo seem to be In the midst of toes! What could he the motive? And why should the villain have selected jrou? Why pick you out?” Thereupon a strange thing happened. Three pairs of English eyes met and wlgnaled a common message eye to ■®ye. No word passed, but the message ■wa* “Van Tree!” When we had glanced ■ft* one another, we looked all of us at •or host—looked somewhat guiltily. He ■was deep In thought, his eyes on the fttove, but he seemed to feel our gaze wpon him, and ho looked up abruptly. -Master Van Tree"—ho said and •topped. “You know him well?" the duchess maid, appealing to him softly. We felt •at kind of sorrow for him and some doll • esrey. too, about accusing one of his countrymen of a thing so cowardly. —I>o you think It is possible/' she enn - tinned, with an effort, "possible that ■ftc can have done this. Master Dlnd •trom ?" ■“J have known him from a hoy," the (merchant said, looking up, a hand on •Ither knee, ar.d speaking with a sim plicity almost majestic, "and never ilcnew him do a mean thing, madam. I Uknow no more than that." And he Mtookod round on us. “That Is a good deal. Still he wont •ftff in a fit of Jealousy when Master •Carey brought Dymphna home. We i (-must remember that." “Yes, I would ho knew the rights of ■•hat matter,” said tho Dutchman Z.fceartily. And lie has been hanging about the *®lace alt day," my lady persisted. "Fes." Master Llndstrom rejoined pa •taeirfty, “yet I do not think he did this." “Then who did?” she said, somewhat mottle 3. That was the question. I had my •oaplnion, ns I saw Master Bertie and •tthe *urt»oss had. I did not doubt It v*«.i Van Tree, yet a thought struck me. “'“It might be well.” I suggested, "that •womeone should ask Mistress , Anne • Whether the door was open when she tdott the room. She passed out .Just In ifront of me.” “But she does not go by the door,” i*ny lady objected. “So; site would turn at once and go *»p stairs,” I agreed. "But she could twee the door from the foot of the stairs —•if she looked that way. I mean.” The duchess assented and went out <«t tho room to put the question. We three, -left together, sat staring at the •dull dame of (he lamp and were for ■the most part silent. Master Bertie only •xremnvking that It was after midnight. "The suspicion he and T entertained of -Van Tree’s guilt seemed to raise a bar trier between us • and our host. My wound, slight aa It was, smarted anil burned, and my head ached. After midnight, was It? What a day it had Jbeen! When the duchess canto back, as she <11(1 in a few minutes, both Anne and Dymphna came with her. The girls Shad risen hastily and were shivering ■with cold and alarm. Their eyes were 'bright, their manner was excited. They were full of sympathy and horror and • wonder, as was natural, of nervous *ear for themselves, too. But my Indy «ut short their exclamations. “Anne said she did not notice the floor.'’ she said. “No," the girl answered, trembling •visibly, as she spoke. “I went up -straight to bed. But who could It be? Did you see nothing of him ns he struck you? Not a feature? Not an -outline?” 'No.” I murmured. , '"Did he not say a word?” she con tinued. with strange insistence. “Whs be tali or short? " Her dark eyes dwelling on mine, seemed to probe m> thoughts, as though they challenged me to keep anything back from her “Was it the man you -hurt this morn ing?” she suggested. "No," I answered, reluctantly. "This man was short.” '■Short, was he? Was it Master Var . "Tree, then ?" We, who felt also certain that It was Van Tree, started nevertheless at hear log the charge put into words befor< Dymphna. I wondered, and 1 think thi • others did. too. at Mistress Anne’i fbnrahness. Even my lady, so blunt am •outspoken by nature, had shrunk fron Urying to question the Dutch girl abou her lover We looked at Dymphna wondering how she would take it. We had forgotten that she could uo understand English. But this did no verve her, for without a pause Mistres Anne turned to her arid unfaltering): -•enirt something In her scanty Dutcl •which came to the same thing. A won •or two of questioning and explanutio: followed Then the meaning of the ac cusation dawned at lost on Dymphna' imind. I looked for an outburst of tears lor protestation. Instead, with a glance of wonder and great scorn, with a sin gle Indignant widening of her beautiful ! ' yes, she replied by a curt Dutch sen j fence. "What does she say?” my lady ex claimed, eagerly. "She says,” replied Master Ldnd i stroni, wno was looking on gravely, i "that it is a base lie, madam.” On that we became spectators. It ! seemed to me, and I think to all of us, I that the two girls stood apart from us j In a circle of light by themselves, con fronting one another with sharp glances, as though a curtain had been raised from between them and they saw one another In their true colors and rec ognized some natural antago nism, or It might he some rivalry each In the other. I think I was not peculiar In feeling this, for we all kept silence for a space, as thougli expecting some thing to follow. In the middle of this silence there came a low rapping at the doer. One uttered a faint shriek; another stood as if turned to stone. The duch ess cried for her child. The rest of us looked at one another. Midnight was past. Who could he. abroad, who could want us at this hour? As a rule we should have been In bed and asleep long ago. We had no neighbors save the colters on the far side of the Isl and. We knew of no one likely to ar rive at this time with any good In tent. "I will open,” said Master Llnd strom, but he looked doubtfully at the women folk as he said It. "One minute," whispered the duch ess. “That table Is solid and heavy. Could you not—’’ "Put It across the door?” concluded her husband. "Yes, we will.” And It was done at once, the two men—my lady would not let me help—set arrang ing it that It prevented the door being opened to its full width. "That will stop a rush,” said Master Bertie, with satisfaction. It did strengthen the position, yet It was a nervous moment when our host prepared to lower the bar. "Who is there?" he cried, loudly. We waited, listening and looking at one another, the fear of arrest and the horrors of the Inquisition looming large in the mind of some of us, at least. The answer, when It came, did not reassure us. It was uttered In a voice so low and muffled that we gained no Information and rather au gured treachery the more. I remember noticing how each took the crisis; how Mistress Anne's face was set hard and her breath came In Jerks; how Dymph nn, pale and trembling, seemed vet to have eyes only for her father; ho'w the duchess faced the entrance like a queen at bay. All this I took in at a glance. Then my gaze returned to Master Blndstrom as he dropped the bar with a jerk. The door was pushed open at once as far as It would go. A drift of cold air came in and with It Van Tree. He shut the door behind him. Never were six people so taken aback as we were. But the newcomer, whose face was (lushed with haste and excite ment, observed nothing. Apparently he saw nothing unexpected even In our presence down stairs at that hour, nothing hostile or questioning In the half circle of astonished faces turned toward him. On the contrary he seemed pleased. "Ah,” he exclaimed, gutter ally, "it is well! You are up! You have taken the alarm!” It was to me he spoke, and I was so surprised by that and by his sud den appearance, so dumbfounded by his easy address and the absence of all self-consciousness on his part, so struck by a change in him that I stared In silence. I could not believe that this was the same hair shy, half tierce young man w-ho had hung away a few hours before in a passion of Jeal ousy. -uy ineory inat ne was the assassin seemed on a sudden extravagant, though here he was on the spot. When Master I-lndstrom asked: “Alarm? What alarm?” I listened for his an swer as I should have listened for the answer of a friend and ally, without hesitation, without distrust, for. In truth, the man was transfigured— changed By the rise of something to the surface which ordinarily lay hid in him. Before he had seemed churl ish. awkward, a boor. But in this hour of our need and of his op portunity he showed himself as he was. Action and purpose lifted him above his outward seeming. I caught the generous sparkle In his eye and trusted him. “What!” he said, keeping his voice low. "You do not know? Thev are looming to arrest you. Their plan Is to I surround the house before daybreak. I Already there is a boat lying in the j river watching the landing stage.” i “Whom are they coming to arrest?” I I asked. The other were silent, looking I at this strange messenger with mingled , feeling. "All. I fet«-“ he replied. “You, too, Master Llndstrom. Some one has I traced your English friends hither and | Informed against you. I know not on | what ground you are Included, but I j fear the worst. There Is not a moment j to be lost If you would escape by the | bridge before the troop who are on the I way to guard It arrives." | "The landing stage, you say. Is al lready watched?” our host asked, his phlegmatic coolness showing at Its best. His eyes roved round the room, anil he tugged, as was his habit when deep in thought, at his beard. I felt sure that he was calculating which of his possessions he could remove. "Yes," Van Tree answered. "My father got wind of the plan in Arnheim. An English envoy arrived there yes ‘ terday on his way to Cleves or some ! part of Germany. It Is rumored that he has cpms out of road way to inquire after certain English fugitives whom his government are anxious to seize. But; come, we have no time to lose! Let us go!" "Do you come, too?” Master Llnd strom said, pausing In the act of turn ! ing away. He spoke in Dutch, but by some Inspiration born of sympathy I ! understood both his question and the | answer. I "Yes; I come. Where Dymphna goes I go. and where she stops I stop, i though It be at Madrid itself,” the . young man answered gallantly. His eyes kindled, and he seemed to grow : taller and to gain majesty. The barrier of race, which had hindered me from i viewing him fairly before, fell In a trice. I felt now only a kindly sorrow , that he had done this noble thing and not I. I went to him and grasped his hand, aiul though I said nothing he seemed, after a single start of sur s prise, to understand me fully. He un • ■ derstood me even beter, if that were i possible, an hour later, when Dymphna 1 had told him of her adventure with i ; the Spaniard, and he came to me to - thank me. 3 Ordered myself to be Idle, I found all ’ busy round me, busy with a stealthy diligence. Master Elndstrom was pack ing his plate. Dymphna, pale, but with soft, happy eyes—for had she not cause to be proud?—was preparing food and thick clothing. The duchess had fetched her child and was dressing it for the Journey. Master Bertie was collecting small matters and looking to our arms. In one or other of these occupations— 1 can guess in which—Van Tree was giving his aid. And so, since the duch ess would not let me do anything. It chanced that presently I found myself left alone for a few minutes with Anne. I was not watching her. I was know ing my nails In a fit of desjiondcncy, reflecting that I was nothing but a hindrance and a drawback to my friends, since whenever a move had to be made I was sure to be Invalided, when I became aware, through some mysterious sense, that my companion, who was kneeling on the floor behind me, packing, had desisted from her work and was gazing fixedly at me. I turned. Yes; she was looking at me, her eyes, In which a smoldering fire seemed to burn, contrasting vividly with her pale face and contracted brows. When she saw that I had turned—of which at first she did not seem aware—she rose and came to me and laid a hand on my shoulder and leaned over me. A feeling that was very like fright fell upon me, her man ner was so strange. ‘What Is It?" I stammered as she still pored on me In silence, still maintained her attitude. "What Is the matter, Anne?" "Are you quite a fool?” she whisp ered, her voice almost a hiss, her hot breath on my cheek. "Have you no sense left that you trust that man?" For a moment I failed to understand her. "What man?" I said. "Oh, Van Tree!” “Aye, Van Tree! Who else? Will you go straight Into the trap he has laid for you?” She moistened her lips with her tongue, as though they were parched. "You are ull mad! Mad, I think? Don't you see,” she continued, stooping over me again and whispering hurriedly, her wild eyes close to mine, "that he is Jealous of you?” "He was," I said uneasily. "That is all right now.” “He was? He is!" she retorted. *He went away wild with you. He comes back smiling and holding out his hand. Do you trust him. Don’t you see—don’t you see," she cried, rocking me to and fro with her hand in her excitement, "that he Is fooling you? He is leading us all Into a trap that has been laid carefully enough. What Is this tale of an English envoy on his way to Ger many? Rubbish—rubbish, I tell you!” "But Clarence”— “Bah! It was all your fancy!” she cried fiercely, her eyes for the moment flitting to the door, then returning to my face. "How should he'find us? Or what has Clarence to do with an Eng lish envoy?" "I do not know," I said. She had not In the least persuaded me. In a rare moment I had seen Into Van Tree’s soul and trusted him Implicitly. "Please take care,” I added, wincing under her hand. "You hurt me!” She sprang back with a sudden change of countenance as if I had struck her and for a moment cowered away from me, her former passion still apparent fighting for the mastery Ip her face. I set down her condition to terror at the plight we were all In or to vexation that no one would take her view. The next moment I went fur ther. I thought her mad, when she turned abruptly from me, and flying to the door by which Van Tree had en tered began with trembling fingers to release the pin which confined the bar. "Stop! Stop! You will ruin all!” I cried in horror. "They can see that door from ths river, and If they see the light they will know we are up and have taken the alarm, and they may make a dash to secure us. Stop, Anne! Stop!" I cried. But the girl was deaf. She tugged desperately at the pin and had already loosened the bar when I caught her by the arms, and pushing her away set my my back against the door. "Don’t be foolish!” I said gent ly. “You have lost your head. You must let us men settle these things, Anne." She was Indeed beside herself, for she faced me during a second or two as though she would spring upon me and tear me from the door. Her hands worked; her eyes gleamed; her strong white teeth showed themselves. I shuddered. I had never pictured her looking like that. Then, as steps sounded on the stairs and cheerful voices—cheerful they seemed to me as they broke in on that strange scene —drew nearer, she turned, and walking deliberately to a seat fell to weeping hysterically. "What are you doing to that door?" cried the duchess sharply as she en tered with the others. X was securing the bar again. “Nothing,” I said stolidly. “I am see ing that it Is fast." "And hotty tolty, miss!” she con tinued, turning to Anne. “What has come over you, I would like to know ? Stop crying, girl. What Is the mutter with you? Will you shame us all be fore this Dutch maid? Here, carry these things to the back door." Anne somehow stifled her sobs and rose. Seeming by a great effort to re cover composure, she went out, keeping her face to the last averted from me. (Continued Next Week.) Atchison Globe Sights. The hardest work In the world Is try ing to be agreeable when you don't feel like It. There are lots of ways to get rich, but the advice of a fortune teller Is not on the list. The nearer a young person can Imi tate the steadiness of an older person, the better it will be for him. You will be compelled, finally, to learn that your opinions do not amount to much. The sooner you learn this important fact the better. There are two times when people doubt that a man is telling the truth: One is when he says he Is working too hard, and the other is when he says he has no time to spare. You often hear of the man who Is "good” around the house; who takes care of the children at night, and can even cook a little when the occasion requires. We may do the good soul an injustice, but a man of this kind is seldom great at anything else. A man can’t attend to his own business, and his wife's too. Men are something like school girls. If a school girl gets a letter from away olf, she will carry It In her books to school, and use it as a book mark. It gives her an air of Importance with her schoolmates. A man will carry a tele gram around with him until It Is worn threadbare, for the same reason. When Speaker Reed Was Floored. From the Chicago News. When Thomas B. Reed was in his glory In Washington he had a habit of asking embarrassing questions of young members to get a laugh on them. One day Reed was holding court In the lobby and Robert G. Cousins, of Iowa, then a new member, carfie In. Cousins was big and awkward, and had a ner vous habit of rubbing the back of his | left hand with the fingers of his right. Retd saw him. "Young man,” he said, did you ever have the Itch?” Every body laughed. Cousins was flustered, but he stiffened up in a moment and replied, "I never had the presidential itch.” and that quieted Mr. Reed foi the remainder of the afternoon. She had always been counted, above all else, a good woman. Indeed, goodness was 80 entirely the aim of her existence, the Incentive for her strivings, that she fell into the common error of narrowing her life and Its interests. That hers was the virtue of the untried, the untempted, she did not know, and not knowing, deemed herself strong and brave and true. The rigid line along which her life was patterned formed the criterion by which she judged others. Consequently her judg ment was often severe. She looked with disgust upon the follies and weaknesses of other women. In her eyes there was never justification for sin. ‘‘Women should so train their wills that temptation would be impossible,’' was her verdict always. Duty being the keynote of her life. It came about that she married a man whom she "esteemed” but did not love. True, there was no one else whom she loved at that time. Nevertheless, somewhere In the exalted regions of her nature was a sense that told her how inadequate was the placid response which this man's re gard awakened In her. She felt Instinctively that she would never be really happy with him. There were chords In her being which he never touched, depths which his love of her did not stir. But she made up her mind to be con Js new exhilaration, this wonderful joyou® ness—wrhat was it? Why was it? Could simply the pleasure of a hostess in enter taining her husband’s friend be such as this? Then came the flashing moment of ecstasy with her wide eyes, meeting lips, read the whole truth, and, reading it, gazed back in mingled fright and shame and joy. In the quiet of her room tliat night she tried again to think, to reason, to explain. But instead of the firmness and high re solve which she had always believed would be hers under such circumstances, she felt a wild wish to hug this great gladness to her heart and keep it always. In vain did she chide herself, over and over. In vain did she lean above her sleep ing child, reminding her soul again and again of the sacred calling wThlch was dear. No thought of husband, child or duty could down the music of this great ex perience. A long night of reproaches made her no less responsive to the glow and thrill of the other man's presence that day. In shame and in delight she let her gaze drink deep of the concentrated sweetness in his eyes. She would not think now, nor reason. She w'ould not face herself as before In the quiet of her room. Beyond the present she cared not to live. To see him daily, to talk with him, to 1 g tent and to forget the visions of for bidden blessedness which that inner sense had told her was hers by right. So she married and settled down to an existence of seeming happiness. The world spoke of the match as ideal and envied her thfe harmony of her lot, for the would knew nothing of her subjective life. There were times when dissatisfaction lifted its head and stared her relentlessly in the face. Times when the old dreams and Imaginings came thronging back. But she stifled them resolutely. Had she not promised to be true? To her that meant true in thought as well as deed. With the birth of her little girl came new duties, new interests to fill the blanks and hollows of her existence. In watch ing the baby form develop, the precious mind unfold, she forgot dissatisfaction. For three years she lived in this new found happiness and smiled to feel that the old restlessness had left her, never to return. Then she met the other man. The revelation did not come at once. There was a vague intimation of it per haps the first instant that her glance met his. But it was in talking with him of the things she loved that she first felt the delicious dawning of a joy never be fore experienced. “It is mental congeniality,” her heart explained to her conscience, for she want ed above all things to be honest with herself. But as the days sped by she found the changing situation harder to explain. This feel that he loved her, was happiness sa great that neither remorse nor resolve could strangle It. “I am going away," he said to her, a week earlier than his intended departure. Stunned by the unexpectedness of the announcement, unable to consider any thing save the one black thought that he was to leave her, she stood facing him, her eyes fully speaking the despair that descended upon her. "You understand," he said at length, as he reLeased her hand. “Yes,” she said, "I understand.” He left that afternoon. She made soma excuse and did not accompany her hus band to the station with his friend. As she saw the carriage drive away, it seemed to her that she must and would do some desperate thing. But she did nothing more desperate than to sit with clenched hands and miserable eyes, star ing blankly at surroundings from which all shine and color were now blotted out. Months passed before her struggling will could assert itself above the awful numb ness and despair which had threatened to throttle it. But the time did come, at last, when she could look at the world again with calm eyes of hope and faith. It was then she felt the transformation. It was then she knew that in place of her j former harshness and prejudice was a I warm, sweet kindness, a great compas sion, a wide sympathy for all those of earth whose fate it seems to suffer and to love. “Mr. Dooley" on the Fear of Death. In the May American Magazine “Mr. Dooley" writes of "The End of Life." The caFtoons are by McCutcheon. It is doubtful whether the great comic genius was ever more profoundly hu morous and sound in his thinking than he is in this article. Consider, for ex ample, the following passage on the fear of death: "Th' most per’lous iv human occy patlons are usually th' lowest paid. An' why is this so? Is it because we're not afraid iv death? Faith, no, but because we don't know annythlng about it. We don't appreciate it. If our simple minds cud grasp th' sub Jick th' bravest man in th’ wurruld wud be found undher th' bed sobbing. It's there but It isn’t there. It hap pens to iv’rybody but ye can't see it happen to ye’ersilf. Ye walk briskly up to it or maybe ye even run. Ye niver see it till it’s too late an' thin 'tls too late to recognize It. 'Tls no good runnln' away fr'm it. Manny a man dodgin’ a throlley car has been run over be an autymobil. Ye hide fr'm th’ lightning an’ a mickrake lands ye. Ye avoid railroad trains an’ boats an' scratch ye'er thumb with a carpet tack an’ 'tls all over. Ye expect it fr'm wan side iv th’ sthreet an’ it comes fr'm th' other. Ye think that must be it in th' block ahead an’ ye make up ye'er mind to walk slow whin it steps up behind ye. slaps ye on th’ back an’ says. ‘Ye’re wanted at head quarters. Ye'd betther come along peaceable.' To which, havin' no fur ther inthrest, ye make no reply. 'Tis thin f'r th' first time ye'd have an un dherstandin' an' a fear tv death—if ye were alive. But ye are dead." New Mediums in Decoration. That cement and concrete are des tined to supptant to a large extent stone, terra cotta, marble and other materials now used for decorative pur poses is the opinion expressed by an editorial writer in Cement Age. Econ omy has been the chief factor in the development of ornamental work In com rete. After a mold is made the cost of production becomes the veriest tritle as compared with stone or mar ble. As an artistic medium concrete is quite as good as stone or terra cotta. Considering its greater economy it may be employed in many cases where the cost of cut stone would be prohib itive and terra cotta unsuitable. Its use embraces not only statuary, garden I I furniture, fountains and urns, but orna mental walls, bridges and balustrades. In fact, an entire estate, so far as build ings and structural features are con cerned, might well be of concrete, from the dwelling to the least of objects in tended to ornament a garden or lawn. Concerning artistic designs in concrete, there Is no limit to the resources of the worker. If he is of the faith that re jects all that is modern and original, and admires only the masterpieces of | the old world, the plaster mold will fur nish him with an almost exact repro j duct ion of designs wrought by hand. The most intricate and elaborate pat terns, which may have involved months or years of toil on the part of their creator, may be duplicated in concrete in a few days. When we consider the extreme durability of concrete in con nection with the low cost of production, one is impressed with the great future awaiting it in the domain of decorative work. Pioneer of Predigestion. From the New York World. Ferdinand Schumacher, the dead “oat meal king," deserves more than a passing tribute. He had won a double niche In the temple of fame. He will rank with the Morses. McCormicks and Edlsons as a hero of invention, and among the Have meyers and Armours as a captain of in dustry. Schumacher found the American break fast table a chaos of pancakes, hot bis suit and pie, and he left it a sweet sym phony of cereals and cream. He was an apostile ot predigestion among a dyspep tic people. Under his diet manipulation the despised grain which Dr. Johnson said was food for horses in England and for men in Scotland was transformed into a gastronomic delight. Will Edinburg have no monument to the Hanoverian Immi grant who carried abroad the celebrity of Its “gran* fuid,” as Davy Ballour’s laird called It? The pink cheeks of a million schoolboys testify to the reform Schu macher wrought In a nation’s dietary. Thanks to him, corn, rye, barley and all the farinaceous grains now supply bone and sinew to the populace. In a record of Schumacher’s achieve ments his contributions to American lit erature should not be overlooked. He was the Maecenas of the lO-ce^t magazine-. The muck-rakers may have had the glory, but the true story of the success of many a periodical Is to be read In the break fast food advertisements. The muse would have been on short rations but for the cereals. —.- ■ French people have decided views re garding the responsibility of men in power. A butcher has been sent to jail for a year for supplying the army with bad meat. The damages assessed by a Paris court following a recent automobile accident cost the owners $25,000. When the Opera Comique burned in 1S87 the managing director was fined $10,000 and 3ent to prison for three months. The Protestant, Catholic and Jewish denominations of Oakland, Cai., have organized under one constitution a so ciety of the pastors to help along the church work of the city. Sociologist Strikes a Poser. Colonel Frank Pierce Morgan, the well known sociologist and raconteur of Washington, at one time was of the opinion that if the children of "poor white trash” in the south could be put to work, much good would result to all concerned. An experience he had while on an inquisitorial tour recently, rather puzzles hirn. In Statesboro, N. C., he fell into conversation with a well fed looking citizen, who sat on a dry goods box whittling a stick. “What do you do for a living?” asked Colonel Morgan. "Wall, stranger,” accommodatingly replied the hospitable tarheel, “I don’t j have to do nothing for a livin’ these ' days, seein’ as how I have five head [ of gals a-workin’ in the cotton fac tory.” I The American Civil Service Army. From Harper's Weekly. x a ere are 106,811 persons employed In the postoffice department. The figures include 37,389 rural delivery carriers,1 28,846 clerks in classified offices, 24,696 letter carriers, and 13.892 railway mail clerks. The 62,663 postmasters and 12,850 clerks are not in cluded in these figures. If these are added it will be found that the total number en gaged in handling the mail of the country is 180,336. New York ranks first In the number of its citizens employed in the executive civil service, reporting 22,467, or 12.1 per cent of the total number; Pennsylvania ranks sec ond. with 14,627, or 7.9 per cent; Illinois, third, with 13,406, or 7.2 per cent; and Massachusetts, fourth, with 9,585, or 5.3 per cent. The approximate average rates of com pensation for different classes of employes are as follows: Executive, $1,983; profes sional, technical and scientific, $1,375; mis cellaneous, $1,221; mechanical, $959; clerical, $953; and subclerical and manual labor, $711. In the clerical class, it is Interesting to note, the approximate average com pensation for women ($950) Is practically the same as that for men ($953). Civil service employes amounting In ’ number to 15,207, or 8.2 per cent of the total number, reported that they wrere war vet erans. Of these veterans 8,464 had served In the civil war, and 6,743 in the war with Spain. The total number of employee at least 60 years of age is 13,363, and of thl» number 7,768, or 58.1 per cent, are war veterans. Roughly speaking, therefore, among every ten employes of 60 years of age and upward, six have served their country* upon the battlefield. Where It Came In. From Pick-Me-Up. The scene was a doctor’s surgery, and a very parsimonious patient had just been prescribed for. The medico hand- * ed it to the patient, demanding half a crown therefor. “Half a crown! Why, there isn’t six pennyworth of stuff in that bottle!** cried the man. “No, I don’t suppose there is, but I tell you what I’ll do. The next time you come to see me just pay the six pence and help yourself from all these bottles you see around you.” “Ah! but I shouldn’t know what to take.” “Of course not. And that’s where the other two shillings come in.” More proof that Lydia E. Pink* ham’s Vegetable Compound save* '•*' woman from surgical operations. Mrs. S. A. Williams, of Gardiner, Maine, writes: “ 1 was a great sufferer from female troubles, and Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vege. table Compound restored me to health in three months, after my physician declared that an operation was abso lutely necessary.” Mrs. Alvina Sperling of 154 Cley boume Ave- Chicago, I1L, writes: “ I suffered from female troubles, a tumor and much inflammation. Two of the best doctors in Chicago decided that an operation was necessary to save my life. Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound entirely cored me without an operation.” FACTS FOR SICK WOMEN. For thirty years Lydia E. Pink ham’s Vegetable Compound, made from roots and herbs, has been the standard remedy for female ills, and has positively cured thousands of women who have been troubled with displacements, inflammation, ulcera tion, fibroid tumors, irregularities, periodic pains, backache, that bead ing-down feeling, flatulency, indigei' t ion,dizziness,or nervous prostratioi Why don’t you try it ? Mrs. Pinkham invites all sic! women to write her for advi© She has guided thousands health. Address, Lynn, Mass. . _1