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Outraged.
Prom the Washington Star.
Hiram Maxim, the Inventor of the nplen
49id "silencer," said In the course of a re
eent interview In New York:
"That lnfringment case, too. was won.
The opposition had a lot of witnesses, but
they were all badly coached. As badly
coached, Indeed, as- But listen:
"A phrenologist visited a village. He
offered to examine any one’s bumps fpr a
dime. A burly blacksmith’s helper said
lie would have his bumps examined, and
•ls he took hie place, another man whis
2>ered in the phrenologist's ear:
•' ‘He's very fond of veal.’
“At this hint the phrenologist, nodded
gratefully. He then read out the black
smith's bumps, crediting him with all sorts
of virtues, and Anally he said In a loud,
positive tone:
“ ‘Now, I come to your diet. Gents, If
thers Is one thing In the world our sub
ject dotes on, It Is veal. Why—
“But the sentenco was never Anlshed,
The bjacksmlth rose suddenly and
knocked the phrenologist down.
" 'Blast ye!' he roared. 'What’s It got
to do with you If I did steal a calf?' ”
Rough cn Rats fools the rats and
*nlce, but never fools the buyer. The
secret Is, you (not the maker) do the
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lng; pay for poison only, then you get1
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St
UP-TO-DATK.
Hostess (at Christmas party)—Tommy,
won'* yau have soma mors Ice creamT
Tommy (aged ©—No; but I'd give a
dollar for a qulat am oka.
And It 8urely la.
From Everybody's Magaslne.
Teacher was telling her class little
Stories In natural history and she asked'
If anyone could tell her what a ground
,hog was. Up went a little hand, wav*
flng frantically.
"Well, Carl, you may tell us what a
groundhog Is."
"Please, ma’am, It’s sausage."
EWvc Serna
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(Copyright, 1909, by Stanley J. Wcyman.)
CHAPTER JX—Continued.
Colonel John reflected that Uucle
Click was no romantic young person to
pluy at mystery for effect. There was
a call for secrecy, therefore. The
O’Beirnes slept in a room divided from
his only by a thin partition; and to
gain the stairs he must pass the doors
of other chambers, all inhabited. As
softly as he could, and as quickly, he
dressed himself. He took his boots in
his hand; his sword, perhaps from old
habit, under his other arm; in this
guise he crept from the room and down
the dusky staircase. Old Darby and an
underling were snoring In the cub,
which in the daytime passed for a pan
try, and both by day and by night gave
forth a smell of sour corks and mice;
but Colonel John slid by the open door
as noiselessly as a shadow, found the
back door—which led to the fold-yard
—on the latch, and stepped out Into the I
cool, dark morning, into the sobering
freshness and tiie clean, rain washed
air.
The grass was still gray hued, the
world still colorless arid mysterious,
the house a long black hulk against a
slowly lightening sky.
Colonel John paused on the door step
to draw on his boots, then he picked
his way delicately to the leather hung
wicket that broke the hedge which
served for a fence to the gaiden. On
the right side of the wicket a row of
tall Florence yews, set within the
hedge, screened the pleasaunce, such
as it was, from the house. Under the
lee of these he found Uncle Ulick
striding to and fro and biting his Anger
nails in his impatience.
He wrung the Colonel’s hand and
looked into his face. "You’ll do me the
Justice, John .Sullivan,’’ he said, with a
touch of passion, "that never in my life
have I been over hasty? Eli? Will
you do mo that?”
"Certainly, Ulick,” Colonel John an
swered, wondering much what was
coming.
"And that I’m no coward, where it's
not a question of trouble?”
"I’ll do you that Justice, too,” the
Colonel answered. He smiled at the
reservation.
The big man did not smile. “Then
you’ll take my word for it,” he replied,
“that I’m not speaking idly when I say
you must go.”
Colonel John lifted his eyebrows.
"Go?” he answered. “Do you mean
now ?”
"Ay. now. or before noon!” Uncle
Ulick retorted. "More by token,” he
continued, with bitterness, “it’s not
tliat you might go on the Instant that
I’ve brought you out of our own house
as if we were a couple of rapparees or
horse thioves, but that you might hear
it from me who wish you well, in
stead of from those who nmybe'll not
put It so kindly, nor be so wishful for
you to be taking the warning they
give.”
"Is it Flavia you’re meaning?”
“No; and don't you be thinking it,”
Uncle Ulick replied with a touch of
heat. "Not the least bit of it, John
Sullivan! The girl, God bless her, is
as honest as the day, if”
"If she's not very wise,” Colonel John
said smiling.
"You may put it that way if you
please. For the matter of that, you'll
be thinking she’s not the only fool at
Morristown, nor the oldest, nor the big
gest. But the blood must run slow, and
the breast be cold, that sees the way
the Saxons arc mocking us and locks
the tongue in silence. And sure there’s
no more to be said but Just this—that
there’s thoso here you’ll be wise not to
see! And you'll get a hint to that end
before the sun’s high."
"And you'd have me take It?"
“You'd be mad not to take it!” Uncle
Ullck replied frowning. "Isn’t It for
that I'm out of my warm bed, and the
mist not off the lake?”
“You'd have me give way to them
and go?”
“Faith and I would!”
"Would you do that same yourself,
Ulick?"
"For certain ."
“And be sorry for it afterward!"
"Not the least taste in life!” Uncle
Ullck asseverated.
"And be sorry for it afterward,” Col
onel John repeated quietly. "Kinsman,
come here.” he continued, with unusual
gravity. And taking Uncle Ullck by the
arm he led him to the end of the gar
den, where the walk looked on the lake
and bore some likeness to a roughly
made terrace. Pausing where the black
masses of the Florence yews, most
funereal of trees, still sheltered their
forms from the house, he stood silent.
Here and there on the slopes which
faced them a cotter's hovel stood soli
tary in its potato patch or its plot of
oals. In more than one place three or
four cottages made up a tiny hamlet,
from which the smoke would presently
rise. To English eyes the scene, these
oases in the limitless brown of the bog,
had been wild and rude, but to Colonel
John it spoke of peaco and safety and
comfort, and even of a narrow plenty.
The soft Irish air lapped It, the dis
tances were mellow, memories of boy
hood rounded off all that was unsight
ly or cold.
He pointed here and there with his
hand and with seeming irrelevance.
"You'd be sorry afterward," he said,
"for you'd think of this, Ulick. God
forbid 1 should deny that even for this
too high a price may be paid. But if
you play this away in wantonness—if
that which you are all planning come
about, and you fail, as they failed in
Scotland throe years back, it is of this,
it is of the women and the children un
der these roots that will go up in
smoke, that you'll be thinking, Ulick,
at the last! Believe me or not, this is
the last thing you'll see. It's to a bur
den os well as an honor you're born
where men doff caps to you; and it’s
thut burden will lie the black weight
on your soul at the last. There's old
Darby and O’Sullivan Og’s wife—and
Pat Mahony and Judy Mahoney's four
sons, and the three Sullivans at the I
landing, and Phil the crowder and the
seven tenants at Killabogue—it’s of
them, it's of them"—as he spoke his
finger moved from hovel to hovel—
“and their like I'm thinking. You cry
them and t..ey follow, for they’re your
folks born. But what do they know
of England or England’s strength, or
what Is against them, or the certain
end? They think, poor souls, because
they land their spirits and pay no dues,
and the justices look the other way—
they think the black Protestants are
afraid of them! While you and I, you
and I know, Ullck." ho continued,
dropping his voice, " 'tis because we
lie bo poor and distant und small, they
give no heed to us! We know! And !
that’s our burden.”
The big man's face worked. He
threw out his arms. "God help us!"
he cried.
“He will. In His day! I tell you
again, as I told you the hour I came,
I, who have followed the wars for 20
years, there is no deed that has not its
reward when the time is ripe, nor a
cold hearth that Is not paid for a
hundredfold!"
Uncle Ulick looked sombrely over
the lake. "I shall never see It," he said.
"Notwithstanding, I'll do what I can to
Quiet them—if it be not too late."
j “Too late?"
I “Aye, too late, John. But anyway,
I I’ll be minding what you say. On the
i other hand, you must go, and this very
; day that ever Is.”
"There are some here that I must not
he seeing?” Colonel John said,
shrewdly.
“That's it.”
“And If I do not go, Ulick? What
then, man?”
"Whisht! Whisht;” the big man cried
in unmistakable distress. “Don’t say
tho word! Don't say the word, John,
dear.”
“But I must say it,” Colonel John
answered, smiling. “To be plain,
Ulick, here I am and here I stay.
They wish me gone because I am in
the way of their plans. Well, and can
you give me a better reason for stay
ing?”
What argument Ulick would have
used, what he was opening his mouth
to say, remains unknown. Before he
could reply the murmur of a voice near
at hand startled them both. Uncle
Click's face fell, and the two turned
with a single movement to see who
came.
They discerned, in the shadow of the
wall of yew, two men, who had JuBt
passed through the wicket into the
garden.
The strangers saw them at the same
moment and were equally taken by
surprise. The foremost of tho two, a
sturdy, weatherbeaten man, with a
square, stern face and a look of power,
laid his hand on his cutlass—he wore
a broad blade in place of the usual
rapier. The other, whom every line of
his shaven face, as well as his dress,
proclaimed a priest—and perhaps more
than a priest—crossed himself and
muttered something to his companion.
Then he came forward.
“You take the air early, gentlemen,”
he said, the French accent very plain
in his speech, “as we do. If I mistake
not,” he continued, looking with an
easy smile at Colonel John, “your
Protestant kinsman, of whom you told
me, Mr. Sullivan? I did not look to
meet you, Colonel Sullivan; but I do
not doubt you are man of the world
"Shall not we too help her?**
"We cannot.”
It may be. Still, let us do our duty,"
Colonel John replied. He was very
grave. Things were worse, the plot
was thicker, than he had feared.
Uncle Uiick groaned. "You'll not be
bidden?” he said.
"Not by an angel,” Colonel John an
swered, steadfastly. "And I’ve seen
none this morning, but only a good
man whose one fault In life is to answer
to all men. 'Sure, and I will!’ ”
Uncle Uiick started as if the words
stung him. "You make a Jest of It!”
he said. "Heaven send we do not sor
row for your willfulness. For my part,
I’ve small hope of that same.” He
opened the door, and, turning his back
upon his companions, went heavily and
without any attempt at concealment,
past the pantry and up the stairs to
his room.
To answer "yes" to all comers and
all demands Is doubtless, in the lan
guage of Uncle Uiick, a mighty conven
ience and a great softener of the
angles of life. But a time comes to the
most easy when he must answer "no,"
or go open eyed to ruin. Then he finds
that, from long disuse, the word will
not shape itself; or, if uttered. It is
taken for naught. That time had come
for Uncle Uiick. Years ago his age
and experience had sufficed to curb the
hot blood about him. But he had been
too easy to dictate while he might, and
today he must go the young folks’
way, seeing all too plainly the end
of it.
But Colonel John was of another
kind and another mind. Often In the>
Swedish wars had he seen a fair coun
try-side changed in one day Into a
waste, from the recesses of which
naked creatures with wolfish eyes stole
out at night, maddened by their
wrongs, to wreak a horrid vengeance
on the passing soldier. He knew that
the fairest parts of Ireland had under
gone such a fate within living memory.
Therefore he was firmly minded, as one
man could be, that not again should
the corner of Kerry under his eyes, the
corner lie loved, the corner entrusted
to him, suffer that fate.
Yet. when he descended to break
fast, his face told no tale of his
thoughts, and he greeted with a smile
the unusual brightness of the morning.
Nor. ns he sunned himself and inhaled
with enjoyment the freshness of the
air, did any sign escape him that he
marked a change.
But he was not blind. Among tho
He detected ragged fellows who were not cripples.
enough to excuse, if you cannot ap
prove, the presence of the shepherd
among his sheep. The law forbids, but”
—still smiling, he finished the sentence
with a gesture in the air.
“I approve all men," Colonel John
answered, quietly, "who are in their
duty, father.”
“But wool and wine that pay no
duty?” the priest replied, turning with
a humorous look to his companions,
who stood beside him unsmiling. “I’m
not sure that Colonel Sullivan extends
the same indulgence to free traders,
Captain Maehin.”
Colonel John looked closely at the
man thus brought to his notice. Then
he raised his hat courteously. “Sir.”
he said, “the guests of the Sullivans,
whoever they be, are sacred to the
Sullivans.”
Uncle Ulick’s eyes had met the
priest’s as eyes meet in a moment of
suspense. At this he drew a deep
breath of relief. “Well said,” he mut
tered. “Bedad, it is something to have
seen the world!”
"You have served under the king of
Sweden, I believe?’’ the ecclesiastic
continued, addressing Colonel John
with a polite air. He had a book of
offices in his hand, as if his purpose in
the garden had been merely to read
the service.
“Yes.”
"A great school of war, I am told?”
“It may be called so. But I inter
rupt you. father, and with your per
mission I will bid you good morning.
Doubtless we shall meet again.”
“At breakfast, I trust,” the ecclesias
tic answered, with a certain atr of In
tention. Then he bowed and they re
turned it, and the two pairs gave place
to one another with ceremony, Colonel
John and Ulick passing out through the
garden wicket, while the strangers
moved on toward the walk which
looked over the lake. Here they began
to pace up and down.
With his hand on the house door
Uncle Ulick made a last attempt. "For
God's sake, be easy and go,” he mut
tered, ills voice unsteady, his eyes iixod
on the other's, as if he would read his
mind. “Leave us to our fate! You
cannot save us—you see what you see,
you know what It means. And, for
what I know, you know the man. You’ll
make our end the blacker.”
“And the girl?”
Uncle Ulick tossed his hands in the
air. “God help her!” he said.
cripples and vagrants who lounged
about the entrance he detected six or
eight ragged fellows whose sunburnt
faces were new to him and who cer
tainly were not cripples. In the door
way of one of the two towers that
fronted him across the court stood
O’Sullivan Og, whittling a stick and
chatting with a sturdy idler in seafar
ing clothes. The Colonel could not give
his reason, but he had not looked twice
a t these two before he got a notion that
there was more in that tower this
morning than the old ploughs and the
broken boat which commonly filled the
ground floor above. Powder? Treas
ure? He could not say which or what;
but he felt that the open door was a
mask that deceived no one.
And there was a stir, there was a
bustle in the court; a sparkle in the
eyes of some as ft'iey glanced slyly and
under their lashes at the house, a lilt
in the tread of others as they stepped
to and fro. Some strange change had
fallen upon Morristown and imbued it
with life.
He caught the sound of voices in the
house, and he turned about and en
tered. The priest and Captain Machin
had descended and were standing with
Uncle Ulick warming themselves be
fore the wood fire. The McMurrough,
the O’Belmes and two or three strang
ers—grim-looking men who had fol
lowed. a glance told him, the trade he
had followed—formed a group a little
apart yet near enough to be addressed.
Asgill was not present for Flavia.
“Good morning, again." Colonel John
said. And he bowed.
‘"With all my heart. Colonel Sulli
van,’’ the priest answered cordially.
And Colonel John saw that he had
guessed aright; the speaker no longer
took the trouble to hide his episcopal
cross and chain or the ring on his
Anger. There was an increase of dig
nity, too, in his maner. His very cor
diality seemed a condesension.
Captain Machin bowed silently, while
The McMurrough and the O’Reirnes
looked darkly at the Colonel. They did
not understand; it was plain that they
were not in the secret of the morning
encounter.
"I see O’Sullivan Og is here,” the
Colonel said, addressing Uncle Ulick.
"That will be very convenient."
“Convenient?” Uncle Ulick repeated,
looking blank.
"We can give him the orders as to
the Frenchman's cargo,” the Colonel
said, calmly.
(Continued Next Week)
Steamboating on the Missouri.
From tlie Technical World Magazine.
If difficulty has been experienced in
navigating the Missouri. It is because
through long disuse its bed has become
blocked in places with trees und snags.
Tills lias caused the water to seek other
channels. But the government has
wakened to the necessity of clearing
away these obstacles. Government
snagboats have been working for near
ly a year between Kansas City und Kt.
Louis. Last year business men of Kan
sas City organized a boat company and
successfully carried freight and pas
sengers between the two cities. There
was no profit in the business for the
reason that the boats could run only
In the daytime, and even then they had
to be guided carefully and slowly. But
the experiment proved to the satisfac
tion of congress that the river is navi
gable and needed only the attention
that any other self-respecting river
should have. It was the *tronge»t in
fluence In getting an appropriation to
pay for Improvement work, and it
opened the way for the large scheme
of transportation now maturing in
Kansas City, which contemplates the
organizing of a transportation company
with a capital of Jl.000,000.
The Need of Farmers.
From the New York Times.
A Georgia newspaper commenting on
the cry from one of the counties of that
hlg state for 1,000 more farmers, re
marks that there are 146 counties in the
state which need as many. All the
eastern and northern states sadlv need
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perhaps not so many.
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Professor James’ Confidence.
Extremely signlflant, following upon
European scientists' acceptance of the
supernatural phenomena in the seances
of the Italian medium, Eusapia Palla
dino, as outlined in this column the
other day, are the admissions of Will
iam James, for 35 years professor of
philosophy at Harvard and recognized
as one of the greatest living phycholo
glsts. Professor James contributes
“The Confidences of a Psychical Re
searcher” to the current issue of Mc
Clure’s. There is “something in” these
phenomena, he declares, rather unwill
ingly, and concludes that it is in this
field of phychical research that the
greatest scientific conquests of the
coming generation will be achieved.
Some excerpts from Professor James’
article follow:
For the 25 years I have been in
touch with the literature of psychical
research, and have had acquaintance
with numerous “researchers.” I have
also spent a good many hours (though
far fewer than I ought to have spent)
in witnessing (or trying to witness)
phenomena. Yet I am theoretically no
“further" than I was at the beginning;
and I confess that at times I have
been tempted to believe that the cre
ator has eternally intended this de
partment of nature to remain baffling,
to prompt our curiosities and hopes
and suspicions all in equal measure, 30
that, although ghosts and clairvoyances
and raps and messages from spirits,
are always seeming to exist and can
never be fully explained away, they
also can never be susceptible of full
corroboration.
I wish to go on record for the pres
ence, in the midst of all the humbug,
of really Supernormal knowledge. By
this I mean knowledge that cannot be
traced to the ordinary sources of in
formation—the senses namely, of the
automatlst. In really strong mediums
this knowledge seems to be abundant,
though it is usually spotty, capricious
and unconnected. Really strong medi
ums are rarities; but when one starts
with them and works downwards into
less brilliant regions of the automatic
life, one tends to interpret many Plight
but odd coincidences with truth as pos
sibly rudimentary forms of this kind of
knowledge.
Out of my experience, such as it is
(and it is limited enough) one fixed
conclusion dogmatically emerges, and
that is this, that we with our lives are
like islands in the sea, or like trees in
the forest. The maple and the pine
may whisper to each other with their
leaves, and Conanicut and Newport
hear each other’s foghorns. But the
trees also commingle their roots in the
darkness underground, and the islands
also hang together through the ocean’s
bottom. Just so there is a continuum
of cosmic consciousness, against which
our individuality builds but ac
cidental fences, and into which our
several minds plunge as into a
mother sea or reservoir. Our “normal’’
consciousness is circumscribed for
adoption to our external earthly en
vironment, but the fence is w’eak in
spots, and iitf .1 influences from beyond
leak In, showing the otherwise unveri
fiable common connection.
Vast, indeed, and difficult is the in
quirer’s prospect here, and the most
significant data for his purpose will
probably be lust these dingy little
medlumistic facts which the Huxleyan
minds of our time find o unworthy of
their attention. But when was not the
science of the future stirred to its con
quering activities by the little rebel
lious excop ons to the science of the
present? Hardly, as yet, has the sur
face of the facts called "psychic” be
gun to be scratched for scientific pur
poses. It is through following these
facts, I am persuaded, that the great
est scientific conquests of the coming
generation will be achieved.
The following mixture makes a bran
bag that adds refreshment to the bath;
A pint and a half of new bran, three
quarters of a pound of almond meal,
eight ounces of powdered orris root and
five ounces of grated castile soap.
Make the bags five or six inches
square and fill each with three table
spoonsful of the mixture. The quantity
given will supply seven bags.
The way some skeletons are padded
up and painted when there are guests
around, would indicate that they had
broken out of the closet and into a
modern boudoir.
Most women prefer to be bossed
rather than worked.
A NOTRE DAME LADY'S APPEAL.
To all knowing sufferers of rheumatism,
whether muscular or of the joints, apiatlca,
lumbago*, backache, pains In the kidneys
or neuralgia pains, to write to her for a
home treatment which has repeatedly cured
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to send if. to all sufferers FR»K. You cure
yourself at home as thousands will testify—
no chany#* of climate being necessary. This
simple discovery banishes uric acid from
the blood, loosens the stiffened joints, purl
lies the blood, and brightens the eyes, giving
elasticity and tone to the whole system. If
the above Interests you, for proof address
Mrs. M. Bummer*, Box 3. Notre Dame, lad.
Better Stick to the Bench.
From the Ladles' Home Journal.
A colored man was brought before A
police Judge charged with stealing chick
ens. He pleaded guilty and received sen
tence, when the Judge asked how It wa«
he managed to lift those chtckens right
under the window of the owner’s houso
when there was a dog loose in the yard.
‘‘Hit wouldn’t be no use, Judge,” said
the man, “to try to 'splaln dls thing to
yo'-all. Ef you was to try It you like u
not would get yer hide full of shot an"
get no chickens, nuther. Ef yo’ want to
engage in any rascality, Judge, yo’ better
stick to de bench, whar yo’ am familiar.**
I
For
Lame
Back
An aching back is instantly
relieved by an application of
Sloan’s Liniment.
This liniment takes the place
of massage and is better than
Sticky plasters. It penetrates
—without rubbing—through
the skin and muscular tissue
right to the bone, quickens the
blood, relieves congestion, and
gives permanent as well as
temporary relief.
Here’s the Proof.
Mr. James C. 2jEe, of 1100 9th St.,
8.E.,Wa#hington,B,0., writes ■ “Thirty
years ago I fell from a soaffoUt aodeerl
ouslyfhjuredmy back. I sufferediferrl
blv at' times ; from the small of my hack
all around my stomach was just as If I
had been beaten with a chib. I deed
every plaster I could.(ret with no relief.
Sloan’s Llnlmefit took the pain fight
ont, and I can now do as muoh balder
work as any man in the shop, thanks te
Sloan’s
Liniment
Mr. J. P. Evaes, of Mt. Airy, Gn.,
■ays: “After being afllloted for three
Jears with rheumatism, I used Sloan’s
liniment, and was cured soupq and
well, and am glad to say I haven’t been
troubled with rheumatism slues. My
lsg was badly swollen from my hip to
my knee. One-half a Dottle took the
pain and swelling out.*'
Sloan’s Liniment
has no equal as a
remedy for Rheu
matism, Neuralgia
or any pain or
stiffness in the
muscles or joints.
Priest,25c.,60o. tad $1.00
Sloan1! hook on
tiursea, cattle, sheep,
*'ui
Dr. Earl S. Sloan,
Botton, Mass., U.S.A, _
Once More.
Once more has Autumn’s maglo brush
Made beautiful the earth.
And painted every dying leaf
More lovely than at birth.
Once more October's sunlight falls
On fields of golden corn,
And tow’rlng stacks of gather’d grain
And meadows, lately shorn.
Once more, afar from haunts of men
I hear the Bob White calling; ’
Where wild plums sweeten In the sun.
And brown, ripe nuts are falling.
Once more the blackbirds’ notes I hear
In chorus loudly swelling; *
And the red squirrel scolds at me
From out his hidden dwelling. ’
Once more, where laughing waters run.
And blooms the bright frost flower
My heart is full of thankfuln&s
To the Almighty Power.
__ —Tom Allison.
No vegetable left from dinner should
go to waste. A combination of almost
any of the summer vegetables with tha
addtlon of a bit of salad dressing will
make a salad as nourishing as It la
tasty.
The man who goes through two for
tunes Is something of a traveler hlm
Polaritls Is a new disease. |n tta
early stages a man doubts everythin*
that Is told him. vymin*
