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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (July 15, 1909)
The House of the Black By F. L. Pattee Ring Copyri ht, 1905 I CHAPTER XVI—Continued. "Quick, men. Catch 'em before they can run." Anjyy yells from the pack greeted the cry. A dozen voices took it up. "Don't give the old woman time to warn ’em.” Jim Farthing's the man. Dang him!" "He’s the murderer." "Hang the hell-hound—hang him be fore Ik has time to kill somebody else." “Lynch him!” "Tile whole damn bunch of ’em." A few mud spirits can make a mob of any multitude, and a mob Is a jilece of hell. "Shoot ’em!” "Hang ’em!” "Lynch 'em!” "Here, get the ropes; somebody get some halters.” “Cut the rope off'n that rig." "Come on; well learn the hell birds.” The mob frenzy had seized the crowd iri full grip. In a yelling, curs ing, boiling mass they swung out of the barn and up the trail toward the Gap, cruel as wolves on a scent and ns hot to destroy. The sheriff pleaded and argued and threatened, but be might as well have argued with the freed waters of a dam. "What Is It?" What’s the matter? Whero’re you going?” demanded Mrs. Farthing helplessly, standing by the gate and wringing her hands In grow ing terror. A hideous yell, mingled •with insults and curses, was the re ply. "dll, don’t he hasty! Oh, please don’t, gentlemen! There's some mis take. Oh, my God, don’t do It! Oh sheriff, stop ’em. Don't let ’em do it. My God, stop, men; don’t do It.” But they swept by her like wolves. Whol ly beside herself now with terror, she bounded after them, begging and de manding, laying her hands on the shoulder of this man and that In wild entreaty. But they pressed on, heed less of her anguish. Tom Farthing, standing on a freshly ■felled tree, heard the roar coming up the Gap and paused to listen. "What’s that, Jim?” "Sounds like a crowd.” They both listened Intently. Their father had left them an hour before for the Wild Meadows to examine some trees to be cut later. “What’s a crowd coming up here for?” "Say, tain’t Fourth of July Is It?” "Why, no; today’s only the second. Suddenly a woman darted out of the bushes and made straight for Tom. * "Why, Lona—” "Quick, Tom. Run,” she panted. "Run?" "They’ro after you—you and Jim. They've got ropes. They’ll hang you both. Come—quick." "But we haven’t done anything. Why should we run?" "That don’t make any difference. Quick. They won’t listen to anything. Hear that? Oh, come!" “If we run, It will be confessing wo dime somohtlng.” ’’If you don’t you'll be hung In two snlnulfis. Oh, Tom—” A hideous yoll arose below them. They had caught sight of the boys through the rhododendron and had broken Into a inad rush like a pack «f hounds at the sight of their victim. “Quick, Tom,” she gasped. “For my sake, Tom.” Her ganlc was contagious. He looked Into her eyes an Instant and turned with her. Jim still wavered, but a fresh yell from behind sent him after Tom and Lona. Then the wild panic of the unimal that turns its back came over them—that mad, unde dnable fear that grips the heart as with iron and sends the fugitive on and on till he drops In his tracks. They ran for their lives, spurred on by the yells that camo up from behind. The mob had again caught sight •of them and It was straining every nerve in" mad pursuit, the younger and imore active In the lead. They crashed vthrough the rhododendron snarl like a Itampede of cattle, tripping and pitch ing beadiong, bruising themselves oa the rocks, and tearing clothes and Hsiuds and faces In their pursuit. The fugitives had cleured the brush line and were In plain sight now among the rocks half way up the ridge. The 'Sheriff, forgetting his duty to restrain tth» mob, In the excitement of the chase drew his revolver and fired. • Halt!” he cried. "Stop in the name of Uie law,” but thqy fleeted on. "Take ’em dead or alive," ho roared, emptying his revolver In mad fusil lad#». should have been, but one, as he stood for an Instantly sharply cut against tin- shy line, seemed to look queer. It was as If he were a woman, but tffey were too excited to speculate. It was Allen Farthing.and his boys. No one dreamed of anything else. At the top they caught sight again of the trio almost down to the tree line, Suddenly, .lust as tne three came to the turning point, where, to reach the Gap. they must turn sharply to the right, the pursuers saw them come to a full halt. It was as If they wore weighing the chances between the Gap and the road to the pike. For a single instant they hovered in indecision, then they turned sharply to the right. Could the mob have known It that pause and that sudden decision marked the crisis in the life of Lona Heller and the turning i>olnt In the valley s history. • We've got ’em," yelled the sheriff “Here, six or eight of you cut across to I he pike and head ’em off ." They were indeed gaining on their prey. "When the foremost runners reached the scrub oaks at the border of Poppy Miller s fnrm they caught what seemed like glimpses of a single fleeting fig ure almost In the entrance of the run They redoubled their yells and flew down the rocks. The fugitives had disappeared. They ran quickly to the mouth of the Run; no one had gone through They spread out In a large circle and aunounded the whole area of Poppy Miller s farm. It was evident that the three had hidden somewhere among the brush and rocks. They slowly closed in. searching every Inch of tlie place. In 10 minutes they met In the center. They had found no trace of the Farthings. They looked Into each other's faces In wordless amazement. The detach ment that had been sent down the pike came up. No one had escaped that way. They were still In the valley; esi ape was Impossible. "Poppy Miller's house," shouted a voice. “Ah. Poppy' Miller's.” The thing was plain now. "Come on," ordered the leader. Ir a twinkling they had surroundec the Htle cabin. The sherlfT strod. to lli>' door and shook it vigorously. II was barred on the inside. ‘Here!'’ he roared. "Open In till name of the law. Open no or we'l smash the door." There ivas no move ment within. "Come on, boys. Got a log and stave her down." Some half a dozen of the Sugar Valley men seized an old tree trunk from the woodpile and ran with it full tilt against the barricaded en trance. It crashed down like a rotten shingle. “Come on, you six fellers; the rest of you stay out and surround the house. Watch sharp now.” They sprang forward, but at that moment an unexpected figure appeared at the doorway—an old woman, un speakably old, bowed over her staff, her face shrivelled and brown as a baked apple, her hair in strange con trast, almost coal-black, and her eyes small and piercing as a rat’s. "What you want here?” she called in a shrill falsetto. ”1 warn you; don’t you come in here.” "you’re hiding the Farthings, Gran’ maw,” spoke up the sheriff, a trace of, awe in his voice. "I’m the sheriff; you're resisting the law. We must search the house.” "Have you got a search warrant?" she asked shrilly. "Why, no-o." The demand paused him. "Then, if you come In here, you break the law.” The sheriff hesitated a moment and then turned back. "Ranged if I know whether It's nec essary or not,” he muttered. “Where’s Squire Hartswlck? He's a justice; he can make one right here. Where are yeh. Squire.” The old man, who had been left hopelessly behind in the race, came puffing up, his face like a plum pudding A sheet of paper was im provised from an old envelope, and the squire proceeded to execute the war rant In due form. "Here—look nhere wunst, you-uns take my advice,” chattered Rem Fish er. “You get out of tiere jest as quick’s you can. The devil’s In this business. See her? See there! My God, men, she’s weavin’ a brauch over us a’ready. God A’miglity, look at that wunst. I’m goin’ home. Gome on. Ulie. I ain’t called on to fight the devil.” He turned square about and crept away down the pike. Ulie and several others followed him. The old woman, still standing In the door, was swinging slowly from side to side, her eyes fixed on the far distance, and muttering Incoherently under her breath. "All ready, come on, fellers." The sheriff and the young men from Sugar Valley advanced hesitatingly towardB the house. It was plain that they did not -ellsh their job, but nobllsse oblige Were they not the sheriff and his sworn deputies? The eyes of the coun ty were upon them. "We’ve got the warrant, Gran’maw," he said In velvet tor.es. She turned squarely about and hobbled out of sight. "Gome on, Squire, I want you to go in with us.” "No—no. I’m too hot and tired. You’ll make it all right alone." He took a seat on a stone at the rear of the group. The seven turned and went Into the house without an other word. A sort of sigh, like the drawing in of the breath by the crowd before the fall of the fatal drop, went up. Every atom of the mob spirit had oozed out. Not a man but felt like sneaking home. "East we’ll ever sec of them,” shud dered a voice. "Gee! I wouldn’t go in there for 10 farms." "It’s devil’s business; I’m goin’ home," said another. Then for what seemed like hours and days there was silence—awful and complete save for the gibbering of the water in the gut almost at their feet. The gloom of the uncanny hole was falling heavier and heavier oil their spirits. Most of them were looking about furtively at the black shadows that were beginning to creep under the cedars, at the hideous caricaturo faces leering from the limestone jags, and at the black barrier of the ridge behind which the sun had already disappeared. Few there had ever before seen the place by day. They breathed a real sigh of relief when the form of the sheriff appeared at the door. “They cant be found,” he said In a queer tone. A murmur of superstitious horror broke from the crowd. Many, looking neither to the right nor the left, sneaked out to the pike and crept homo In twos and threes, scarcely speaking all the way, but each thinking hard the same thought. The sheriff and the Sugar Valley men went again into the Run, and searched for an hour amid the gathering darkness. Then they, too, went down the pike without a word. There was nothing to say. The Farthings had disappeared as If the earth had swallowed them up, and of all places in the world. In the black mouth of Roaring Run. CHAPTER XVII. THE HOUR OF THE POWERS OF DARKNESS, The night following the day on which the Farthings disappeared stands as the blackest In the valley annals. Few who have not passed their childhood amid the dark whisperings of witch craft and the evil eye and of unseen presences which lurk to do evil, can Imagine the terror that fell upon many throughout the region after the event at Roaring Run. The group that met at twilight at Squire Hartswick's store was small but select. The shor in' and the Sugar Valley deputies, who were to spend the night at Hartswlck Hall, were sitting glum and surly on boxes about the door. The squire was In a chair In the doorway, silent and moody, smoking his corncob; Lem Fisher, to whom the world presented as many devils as ever It did to old Cot ton Mather, was center and spokes man. warmly seconded by Ulle Drlbel bis and old Jake Kisterbock. The powers of darkness were having their hour. Do you-uns s'pose one minute that three grown men could hide themselves in the rocks of that little hole so that a hundred couldn't find 'em? Heigh? Is that reasonable wunst? They could n't gel out of there; you know that. Abner Moritz was right dost to 'em a-Dtl Is,.potato! led 'vbg vbg vbgk still and he knows they didn't go down to the Run. I tell you a haexer like Farthing don't get ketehed less he wants to. Nosuh." “What did he run for?" asked Amos quietly. "Why didn't he stand jest where he was peeling bark and haex the whole gang? What was the use of running himself half to death" Why didn't he Jest drop out of sight in his tracks and save all the hard work of runnin' over the ridge?" "Huh! That's all a Yankee knows. W'y that's dearer 'n mud still. He run 'cause he didn't have nothing to haex with. A haexer has to have tools jest us much as a blacksmith. They must have locks of hair, and pieces of blbles, and keys, and blood, and what not. Now can't you see tt? If It had been you or we, wouldn't we have struck f for the Wild Medders Instead of goln' It for a man-trap like the Run? I tell yeh he was strikin’ for Gran’maw ML1 ler. While you-uns was a-foolln’ round she had time enough to hide a na tion." "Vas, and why did she stop you off at the door and make yeh get a war rant?” broke in File. "Wal, I’ll tell yeh why." He closed one eye and nodded his head knowingly. “She had to have time to work her spell. Did you see her weavin’ that brauch? I tell you uns if we knew the bottom of this business we’d bn scalrt. Something awful’s cornin’. We don’t know who’s turn it is next, but it’s one of us." “Yessuh, he’s right." Lem Fisher took up the argument with unction. ’ That brauch meant death. I’ve saw it twlct in my life a’ready and what’s twicst is thricet. There’s goln’ to bo an awful death in this walley until 24 hours still. You-uns take notice of what I say." An awed alienee fell over the group. At length old Jake Klsterbock spoke with faltering voice. "Let me tell you-uns someslng wunst. When I got hum this after noon, my woman comes to the door with a face like a dish-clout still, and she sayes, sayes she, almost yammer in', 'Come in here wunst.’ Then she takes me into the bedroom and sayes she, 'Keep still wunst.' It was still ns the grave. And then—oh my Lord!” lie leaned far over the group, his eyes glittering like a child's. "The death watch was tickin' there in the wall. ’Tlck-tick-tick-tlck-tick,’ right by the headboard. ‘It's death,’ sayes the woman, failin’ over on the bed and cry in’ like as if the life was goln’ out of her still, 'It’s death, death, death.’ Yes suh, f’ve heard it before, and It always brings death in this walley until 24 hours." “I don't want to scare yeh, Squire.” Lem Fisher spoke deferentially. "But the signs do pint at you.” "Humph,” he grunted. "Recollect that apple tree that blowed late last fall in your yard? Recollect how the pee-woo flew into the store here? Recollect how, down to Karl's funeral, the wagon clipped right in ahead of yeh in the procession? Then what have I told yeh about those Farth ings? You go this werry night, Squire, and do what I told yeh. It may be too late now/' Ho made no answer. "Say, Lem," spoke up Amos, “If A1 Farthing can do all you claim he can, then why’s he workin' every day on that old farm?" "Oh, his farmin’ Is jest a blind. I’ll bet he’s gut mono'- like water In the creek. Now if there ain't no haexiu' about this, where did the Farthings go? You tell me that." "I ain't explainin’ Jest yet, but there's an explanation all the same, and it's cornin’ out. Al and his boys are pretty wide awake chaps; they’ve hunted all over these ridges and they know every square rod. They knew how to get through the Run. that’s ail. You fel lers was so excited you didn’t know what you was doin.’ You can’t come any of your miserable witchcraft on me.” "If the Farthings was Innocent, why did they run?" "They showed horse sense by run nln’. When a crazy, hot-headed crowd of lunatics gets after yeh, run I say, for dear life, and do your explainin’ next week.” “An innocent man don’t run, I’ll tell you that." said the Squire sullenly. "How are you going to account for that stuff in his barn?” "I ain’t going to give my verdict till the evidence is all In. But there’s a good deal to be cleared up yet Tore I’m satisfied, I’ll tell you that. Say. Mr. Sheriff." He turned ubout sudden ly and faced the man. “What are you goln’ to do tomorrow? How are you plannln’ to ketch ’em. Gut a watch set round their house. I spose." "Why, no; I haln’t.” "Wal. now. that’s kinder strange. Say, wouldn't it be sort o’ natural for some on ’em to sneak back there to night for somethin’ to eat? What are yeh doin' to ketch 'em? All I’can see is you are settin' right hero listenin’ to old woman’s stories about pow wowin’. while they’re hustling out of the region lively,—that is if they want to." "What can you do when men dis appear into the air?" argued the sher iff. "Say, that's a smart question for a sheriff of a county to ask, now ain’t it—a regular old woman's question. If they’ve disappeared, then it's your business to find ’em and not squat down here listenin’ to witch stories. If you're that cut, you won't be elect ed next fall; I'll tell yeh that. We want a man for a sheriff, not an old woman." “Perhaps you’ll condescend to en lighten us Just a little," answered the sheriff with withering sarcasm. "Per haps you’ll be gracious enough to do the county the favor of dropping a few offhand little hints as to what the officers ought to do in this case." "Sure. No trouble at all." he an swered serenely. “You left a guard round Roarin’ Run, I 'spose? You are ready to swear, you say, that they didn’t get out of there, so It stands to nature they must come out sometime. Got a right smart guard all around it, I ’spose." "Why, no-.’’ "Went through the Run gap, I ’spose, and looked for tracks up and down the banks for half a mile?” (Continued Next Week,) A Question of Enjoyment. From the Pittsburg Gazette.Ttmes At a recent gathering of ministers of the gospel In Pittsburg the liquor question came In for a goodly share of discussion. Among the out-of-town delegates was a noted Georgia clergyman who was sched uled to speak on the saloon question. Pre vious to the meeting one of the local pastors upon being introduced to the Georgian remarked: “ ‘Well, Dr. Blank. I believe your peo ple enjoy state wide prohibition now, do they not?" “No," replied the Georgian, "they do not." The local man was somewhat surprised, but not feeling quite sure of his ground, let the matter re3t. Later In the day. however, when he had Informed himself on the exclRe law of the southern states, he took the Georgian to task In the pres ence of a number of his colleagues. "Doctor," said the local minister, "what did you mean by telling me this morning that your state did not have state-wide prohibition ?'* "My dear brother," replied the Georgian, gravely, "I told you nothing of the sort." "Why—why-" stammered the local man, "you surely-" "Nay," said the Georgian with a twinkle, "you have forgotten your question. You aBked me if Georgia enjoyed statewide prohibition." Says Americans Don't Know Potatoes From the New’ York Herald "Perhaps better potatoes will be raised In this country some day," said a man from Europe, seated in the Knickerbocker dining room. "At pres ent many dinner menus are arranged without potatoes, In fact they are not highly prized, arid X believe It Is be cause the la st kinds are not cultivated here. The soil may have something to do with It, but X tell you there Is noth ing to compare with the blue mouse' and the 'red mouse' raised In the Rhine country. There are many other kinds, wtlh the flavor of nuts, mealy, and— well, 1 am often homesick for them.” ——————————H^Mi—————— | SUCCESS TALKS DR. MADISON C. PETERS. ! THE GENIUS OF ENERGY. A-------- . 1 Genius Is com mon sense intenfled It is the power of making efforts. It is patience. It is talent for hard work. There is no gen ius like the genius of energy. It was neither luck nor chance, but hard work which en abled all our great men to force their tiro sr iintirarH In tVm face of manifold obstructions. Our greatest men have been among the least believers in the power of genius and were as persevering as the successful men of a commoner sort. Of course, without original endowment of heart and brain, no amount of toll, however well applied, would have pro ■ duced a Shakespeare, a Milton, a Beethoven or a D’lsraeli. No man appears to have written with more ease than Dickens, yet he said: "My own invention or imagina tion, such as it is, I can most truth fully assure you, would never have served me as it has, but for the habit ! of commonplace, humble, patient, daily, tolling, drudging attention.” When re quested to read a few selections from | his writings, he replied that he had not time to prepare himself, as It was his custom to read a piece twice daily for six months before appearing with | it in public. Bayle said of Meyerbeer: "He has ! some talent, but no genius; he lives j solitary, working 15 hours a day at j music." Years passed, Meyerbeer’s j hard work brought out his genius. Newton’s mind was of the very high | est order; his philosophy sought with 1 all-comprehending grasp to encircle the universe of God, and yet, when j asked by what means he had worked | out his extraordinary discoveries, he modestly answered: “By always think ing upon them." Haydn said of his art: "It consists ! of taking up a subject and pursuing it.” Beethoven's favorite maxim was: The barriers are not erected which j can say to aspiring talents and in | dustry—thus far and no farther.” THE TENDER PASSION COLDLY ANALYZED flow a Woman Falls in Love— The Real Thing and the False. From New York Weekly. Wa are told that "In the spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.” But what about the women? When the poet omitted to mention their little peculiarities in that direction, did he Intend to convey that In the spring time their fancies lig^ly turned away from thoughts of love? That Is hardly to be Imagined, for it Is well known that in the springtime, ■ when the flowers are gayest and the skies are most beautifully blue, the extraordinary facility with which’some women fall in love puts the lightning in the shade. All women have passing fancies, es pecially in the springtime; but, for tunately, most of them understand that such fancies are only ephemeral, and, if disregarded, pass away like the gusts of the breeze. A great many, how ever, are not so wise. They seize upon this passing fancy and interpret It to mean everlasting love at first sight. This kind of thing can only be cured by drastic experience and repeated doses of practical common sense. Be fore such a woman becomes really sensible, however, she runs a great risk of making herself very unhappy. The common mistake of thinking one self in love when one is not, has blight ed the lives of many. The attitude of the young man who “knew that he loved, but he didn’t I know whom," Is one which is frequent ly taken by girls under 25. The truth of the matter Is that they are In love with some Ideal of their own—a sort of god in human shape—and the moment they meet any young man who con I forms in some one particular to this ! Ideal their hearts run away from . them, and they imagine that he is the one. Very quickly the invest him with I ail the attributes of the ideal, that Ideal being reflected onto him from the back of their own eyes. In less than twen ty-four hours this ordlnery young man Is placed upon a pedestal. The young woman solemnly assures herself that | life without him is a bleak, barren wilderness. When he goes, all other I objects fade Into the light of common day. When he enters the room, her blushes announce the fact that he is the embodiment of what she has been looking for In everything and every body. Just as there is an abyss In a grain of sand, so the height and depth and breadth of all that is Is concen trated for her In that wretched fellow. Now comes the crux It may be by a I mere chance that she has lighted upon the right man, tnough it was not the intuition of this that attracted her to I ward him. She did not know that he resembled her Ideal In more than one single point. Lucky for her If he Is the right man. Then, in later years, when the real tests of love are brought to bear upon the two, she may find out | the true nature of their attachment. But this is a far cry. A hundred I chances to one he is one of the million I wrong men; that the single point that I struck her fancy was a mere Inherited j likeness to some great and good an cestor of his, away up in the family tree—a trait which, however, he might have done his level best to suppress, as it was not in accordance with hls general character. | If that is the case, then comes the trouble. The poor girl, deluded by the ) glamour of spring, regards him per I haps the whole summer long as the one , who tills the world for her. Then comes the autumn of retrospect. She I calmly considers his character, and the I real hold It has upon her. Maybe her relatives say that the engagement was a mistake, pointing out many things | which the glamour of spring had hid den from her eyes. Later, in the hard. ' uncompromising winter, she realizes that she has changed. Under these conditions some girls would jilt the fellow, and always look down upon themselves afterward; In other cases they would carry the thing through—and be sorry for themselves to the end of the chapter. In any case, the result Is more or less disastrous; consequently, tt is sound advice to girls to bid them beware of the passing fancy. But the woman who has formulated no distinct Ideal to worship—how does she fall In love? She may belong to the class which readily grows fond of one of the opposite sex simply through meeting often and being comrades. Mozart said: "Work is my chief pleas ure." Sir Joshua Reynolds was such a believer in the force of industry, that he held "excellence in art, however ex pressed by genius, may be acquired.” Titian, in his letter to Charles V., said: "I send your majesty, 'The Last Sup per,' after working at it almost daily for seven years." The indefatigable industry of Lord Brougham, Michael Angelo, Arkwright and Jenner are matters of history. Lord Chesterfield, who acquired such a polish of style, for many years wrote down every brilliant passage he met within his reading. Lyman Beecher’s greatest sermon was on the "Government of God.” When asked as he descended the pul pit steps how long it took him to pre pare that sermon, he replied: “About 40 years, sir.” Why is it that the busiest men seem to be in demand for everything and have time for everything? It Is be cause they have trained themselves never to leave their time unemployed. Success is ever on the side of the "hustler” as winds and waves are ever on the side of the best navigator. In this lightning-footed twentieth century, things no longer come to him who waits, but to him who hustles while he waits. We are bringing up in America a ' numerous train of gentlemen idlers, who are passing down the stream of life at the expense of their fellow pas sengers. There are plenty of fellows about who live off the earnings of their fathers until they can find a girl who is fool enough to marry them, then they will live off her father. j By borrowing and sponging for years, eluding the police, and by keeping up fashionable appearances they are often received in polite circles and walk rough shod over many a worthy young man who has too much good*sense to make a dash or imitate the monkey shines of the itinerant dude. I want to impress on your mind the fact that idleness from choice is both destructive and disgraceful, and I want you to take home to yourself what I say. Don’t try to persuade yourself that the cap does not fit. you. Honestly acknowledge Its fitness; it will be a great point gained to become honest with yourself. One often hears a woman say, "Oh, Jack and I are good pals; that’s all.” If that is the case, and Jack is the sort of fellow that is ’easily understood, the affair probably will not ripen into love. But if there is some mystery about Jack—some sign that there is more in his life and character than she already knows—she finds him a book whicli grows more interesting as she goes on, until, finally, the climax comes—per haps suddenly, perhaps gradually. Then she realizes that Jack is beginning to absorb all her thoughts. She knows, more truly than the girl with the pass ing fancy, that he has become essential to her life and happiness. In this case it is not that Jack is such a fine char acter, but simply because he was a problem difficult to solve. There are thousands of cases where women even over the age of 40 are at tracted to a man because of something in him which they cannot understand at first glance. At first he is incom prehensible, then he is interesting; then, as sHe is set wondering about him, he becomes a fascinating study. From that onward her thoughts and feelings begin to flow toward him In an accustomed groove, and, if this is ob structed or cut off, her occupation in life seems to be gone. It Is often a question among women as to how they shall know when they are really and truly in love. It Is non sense to say that no woman need be afraid that she will not know when she really loves—that the grand pas sion is too real and deep to permit of self-deception. For there are those who in a kind of summer madness seem to have grasped the real thing and to wish for nothing more; yet the lr.ood passes. The thing parading as Cupid spreads its little wings and flies away. The man they met with furious blushes they can now converse with quite calmly. It makes no difference to them whether he comes or goes. The feeling she had for him has gone, and "That was not love which went.” The only test of true love Is its sur vival. The first three or four years of young married life are frequently one round of household duties and house hold cares. "The common round, the daily task,” act upon the affections as a steady wind upon a flame. If the flame is strong, and has good fuel to feed upon, the wind will fan it into a ' glowing fire: if, on the other hand, it I has no real strength or substance, the , wind will blow it out, and there an end. ' In this way drudgery and self-sacrifice 1 and dreary days here and there will try and test the nature of the love. If , it passes these ordeals, then Indeed it is the real thing. It is based upon something imperishable, held in coin* mon by the two. Pointed Paragraph*. From the Chicago News. A dollar bill in the hand beats two due bills in your mail. The milk man is sometimes also an advocate of pure water. A man’s credit is usually good when he doesn’t need it. It's still a question whether love is an asset or a liability. It's nice to live in the country—nice for your city relations. The woman who marries a cranky old bachelor is as big a fool as he is. After a woman has buried her third husband you can't tell her much about i men. When people Wish a newly married couple happiness they don't really ex pect it to come. A mother thinks it queer that her daughter should care for the things she never cared for herself. It's difficult to convince a woman that gambling is wrong as long as her husband keeps ahead of the game. | “OPEN ALL NIGHT.' | No Better In Massachusetts From the Boston Herald. The Merrimac river is a trunk sewer for a population of about 400,000. A 1 population of 245.000 is living within I the 20 miles of its course between Lowell and Haverhill. In addition to the normal sewage of this population, the river is polluted by manufacturing wastes from wool scouring mills, dye houses. tanneries, paper mills and other industrial establishments. “The Ragman Rolls" were a series of documents recording the progress of Edward I through Scotland in 1296, with the names of the nobles and oth ers who did homage to him. 1 On a 25,000-Mile Tramp. From the Memphis Commercial-Appeal. With 8,000 miles yet to walk, Joseph Mtkulec, a globe trotter, who is now under an agreement to walk 25,000 miles In five years, reached here from Forrest City, Ark., on his way to New York, from where he will sail back to the old country, where he will finish his tramp. Mlkulec, who has agreed to walk 25, 000 miles, for which he is to receivo $10,000 from a firm in Croatia, province of Australia, left that place February 5. 1906. He will leave Memphis for New York, visiting the capital of each state through which he passes, where he will get seal of the governors to verify his route. During his walk Mlk ulec has worn out 36 pairs of shoes and now weighs 40 pounds less than when he started. He carries his trunk on his back and wears as few clothes as possible to evade the law. A Rare Good Thing, “Am using ALLEN'S FOOT-EASE, and con truly say I would not have been with out it so long, had I known the relief it would give rny aching feet. I think it a rare good thing for anyone having sore or tired feet.—Mrs. Matilda Holtwert, Providence, R. I." Sold by all Druggists, 25c. Ask to-day. Pointed Paragraphs. From the Chicago News. The straight and narrow path—tho fire escape. Most people are willing to do their duty—as they see It. Some people take steps for a divorce at public dances. The grass widow may feel blue, but She never looks green. Why is It that a large man always takes a small woman seriously? Don't force your advice upon people whoso friendship you care for. An honest man never has to hire a press agent to put the world next. Fortunate is the woman who knows that her husband Is as smart as she thinks he is A millionaire can say more in 10 words than a penniless man can in 10, 000. A man could earn several dollars with the energy he generates in trying to borrow one. The small boy enjoys coasting, but the average man can go down hill fast enough without a sled under him. This is the glad season of the year when flies are almost as plentiful as insanity experts at a millionaire's trial. » ■ .» ♦ # From Everyoody'* Magazine. “Ay tank. Ay go cross the street and get the tailor to mend my vaist,” drawled a Swedish foreman, showing his employer a very ragged vest. "All right, John.” In a few minutes the Swede re- 4 turned with his vest untouched. ^ "Aren't you going to have it mend ed?" asked the boss. "Ay tank not in that shop,” replied the Swede. “Ay ask him what he charge an' he say, “Two dollar.’ Then Ay ask him, 'Will you take the vaist in part payment?' an' he wouldn't do it." Last year's output of coal in England showed a decrease of over 6,000.00# tons. ORIGIN Of m Fftmona Human Food. The atory of great discoveries or in ventions la aiwaya of Interest. An active brain worker who found himself hampered by lack of bodily strength and vigor and could not car ry out the plans and enterprises ha knew how to conduct, was led to study various foods and their effects upon the human system. In other words, before he could carry out his plan* he had to And a food that would carry him along and renew his physical and mental strength. He knew that a food which was a brain and nerve builder (father than a mere fat maker) was universally *, needed. He knew that meat with the average man does not accomplish the desired results. He know that, the soft gray sub.stance in brain and nerve centers is made frqp Albumen and Phosphate of Potash obtained from food. Then he started to solve the problem. Careful and extensive experiments evolved Grape-Nuts, the now famous food. It contains the brain and nerve building food elements in condition for i-c.sy digestion. The result of eating Grape Nuts dally Is easily seen In a marked stur diness and activity of the brain and nervous system, making It a pleasure for one to carry on the dally duties without fatigue or exhaustion Grape-Nuts food is in no sense a stimulant but Is simply food which renews and replaces the dally waste of brain and nerves. Its flavour is charming and being fully ami thoroughly cooked at the factory It is served instantly with cream. The signature of the brain worker spoken of. C. W. Post, Is to be seen on each genuine package of Grape Nuts. Look In pkgs. for the famous lit tle hook, “The Road to WellviUe.’* I "There's a Reason."