11 THE ROSE-GAR-TT
DEN HUSBAND
By MARGARET WIDDF.MER
(Copyriflhted, J. B. Lippinctrtl Cbmpany.)
“T am —sure you will, panted Mrs.
. Harrington. "You look likt a good
girl, and—and old enough lo be re
sponsible— 28—30?"
"And you are sure you will know
•when the attendants are neglectful?
I speak to them all the time, but I
never can be sure. . . . And now
you’d better see poor Allan. This is
one of hib good days. Just think,
dear Isabel, he spoke to me twice
■without my speaking to hint this
morning!”
"Oh must 1?” askod Phyllis, dis
mayed. "Couldn't 1 wait till—-till it
happens?”
Mrs. Harrington actually laughed
a little at her shyness, lighting up
like a girl. Phyllis felt dimly, though
she tried not to, that through it all
her mother,Yilaw-clect was taking
pleasure in the dramatic side of the
situation she had engineered.
“Oh, my dear, you must see hint.
He expects you,” she answered al
most gayly. The procession of three
moved down the long room towards
a door, Phyllis’s hand guiding the
wheel chair. She was surprised to
find herself shaking with fright. Just
what she expected to find beyond the
door she did not know, hut it must
have been some horror, for it was
with a heart bound of wild relief
that she finally made out Allan Hur
riny^ '"ing white in the darkened
place.
A Crusader on a tomb. Yes, he
looked like that. In the room’s halt
dusk the pallor of his still, clear
featured face and his long clear cut
hands was nearly the same as the
whltncss of the couch draperies. His
hair, yellow brown and waving, flung
back from his forehead like a crest,
and liis dark brows and lashes made
the only note of darkness about him.
To Phyllis’s beauty loving eyes he
seemed so perfect an image that she
could have watched him for hours.
“Here'B Miss Uraitliwaite, my poor
'““'■•■ft) omu inn iinmifi.
young lady we have been talking
about so long.”
The Crusader lifted his eyelids and
let them fall again.
"Is she?" he said listlessly.
"Don’t you want to talk to her,
darling hoy?” his mother persisted,
half out of breath, but still full of
that unrehuffable loving energy and
insistence which she would probably
keep to the last minute of her life.
"No,” said the Crusader, still In
those empty listless tones. "I’d
rather not talk. I’m tired."
His mother seemed not all put
out.
"Of course, darling,” she said,
kissing him. She sat by him still,
however, and poured out sentence
after sentence of question, insistence,
imploration, and pity, eliciting no an
swer at all. Phyllis wondered how
it would feel to have to lie still and
have that done to you for a term of
years. The result of her wonderment
was a decision to forgive her unen
thusiastic bridegroom for what she
had at first been ready to slap him.
Presently Mrs. Harrington's breath
flagged, and the three women went
away, back to the room they had
been in before. Phyllis sat and let
herself be talked to for a little lon
ger. Then she rose impulsively.
"May I go back and see your son
again just for a minute?” she asked,
and had gone before Mrs. Harrington
had finished her permission. She
darted into the dark room before her
courage had time to fail, and Btood
by the white couch again.
"Mr. Harrington,” she said ciear
ly. "I'm sorry you’re tired, but I’m
afraid I am going to have to ask
you to listen to me. You know, don’t
you that your mother plans to have
me marry you for a sort of interested
head nurse? Are you willing to have
it happen? Because I won’t do it
unless you really prefer it.”
The heavy white lids half lifted
again.
“1 don’t mind,” said Allan Har
rington listlessly. "I suppose you
we quiet and trustworthy or De
Guenther wouldn’t have sent you. It
will give mother a little peace and it
makes no difference to me.”
He closed his eyes and the subject
at the same time.
“Well, then, that’s all right,” said
Phyllis cheerfully, and started to go
Then, drawn back by a sudden, ner
vous temper impulse, she moved
back on b‘m. “And let me tell you,”
she added, half laughing, half Im
pertinently, “that if you ever get Into
my quiet trustworthy clutches you
may have an awful time. You’re a
very spoiled invalid.”
She whisked out of the room be
fore he could have gone very far
with his reply. But he had not cared
to reply, apparently. He lay un
moved and unmovlng.
Phyllis discovered, poising breath
- »
I)
less on the threshold that somehow
she had seen his eyes. They had
been a little like the wolfhound's, a
sort of wistful gold brown.
For some reason she found that
Allan Harrington's attitude of abso
lute detachment made the whole af
fair seem much easier fo£ her. And
when Mrs. Harrington slipped a soli
taire diamond into her hand as she
went, instead of disliking it she en
joyed its feel on her fingers, and the
Hash of it in the light. She thanked
Mrs. Harrington for it with real
gratitude, hut it made her feel more
than ever engaged to marry her
motherinlaw.
She walked home rather silently
with Mrs. De Guenther. Only at the
foot of the He Guenther steps, she
made one absent remark.
"He must hav? been delightful,”
she said, "when he was alive!"
VI.
After a week of the old bustling,
dusty hard work, the Hiberry Teach
er's visit to the He Guenthers' and
the subsequent one at the Harring
tons', and even her sparkling white
ring, seemed part of a queer story
she had finished and put back on the
shelf. The ring was the most real
thing, because it was something of
a worry. She didn’t dare to leave it
at home, nor did she want to wear
it. She finally sewed it up in a
chamois bag that she safety pinned
under her shirt waist.. Then she dis
missed it from her mind also. Thera
is very little time In Liberry Teach
er's life for mediation. Only once in
a while would some to her the vision
of the wistful Harrington wolfhound
following his inadequate patch of
sunlight, or of the dusky room where
Allan Harrington lay Inert and white,
and looking like a wonderful carved
statue on a tomb.
She began to do a little to her
clothes, but not very much, because
she had neither time nor money. Mr.
De Guenther had wanted her to take
some money in advance, but she had
refused. She did not want it till she
had earned it, and, anyway, it would
have made the whole thing so real,
she knew, that she would have
backed out.
"And it isn’t as if I were going to
a lover,” she defended herself to
Mrs. De Guenther with a little wistful
smile. “Nobody will know what I
have on, any more than they do
now.”
Mrs. De Guenther gave a scandal
ized little cry. Her attitude was de
terminedly that it was just an or
dinary marriage, as good an excuse
for sentiment and pretty frocks as
any other.
"My dear child,” she replied firm
ly. "you are going to have one pretty
frock and one really good street suit
now, or I will know why! The rest
you may get yourself after the wed
ding, but you must obey me In this.
Nonsense! you can get a half day, as
you call it, perfectly well! What’s
Albert In politics for, if he can't get
favors for his friends.
And in effect, It proved that Al
bert was in politics to some purpose,
for orders came up from the Head’s
office within 20 minutes after Mrs.
De Guenther had used the telephone
on her husband, that Miss Bralth
waite was to have a halt day imme
diately—as far bb she could make
out, in order to transact city affairs!
She felt as if the angels had told
her she could have the last fortnight
over again, as a favor, or something
of the sort A half day out of turn
was something nobody had ever
heard of. She was even too sur
prised to object to the frock part of
the situation. She tried to stand
out a little longer, but it’s a very
stoical young woman who can re
fuse to have pretty clothes bought
for her, and the end of it was a seat
in a salon she had always considered
so expensive that you scarcely ought
to look In the window.
“Had it better be a black suit?”
asked Mrs. De Guenther doubtfully,
as the tall lady in floppy charmeuse
hovered haughtily about them, ex
pecting orders. “It seems horrible
to buy mourninig when dear Angela
is not yet passed away, but it would
only be showing proper respect; and
I remember my own dear mother
planned all our mourning outfits
while she was dying. It was quite
a pleasure to her."
Phyllis kept her face straight, and
slipped one persuasive hand through
her friend's arm.
“I don't believe I could buy mourn
ing, dear," she said. "And—oh, if
you knew how long I’d wanted a real
ly blue blue suit! Only, It would
have been too vivid to wear well—I
always knew that—because you can
only afford one every other year.
And"—Phyllis rather diffidently
voiced a though which had been la
the back of her miad for a long time
—“If I’m going to be much around
Mr. Harrington, don’t you think
!cheerffil clothes would be best?
Everything in that house seems som
ber enough now’
“Perhaps you are right, dear child,"
said Mrs De Guenther. “I hope you
may be the means of putting a great
deal of brightness into poor Allan’s
life before he joins his mother."
“Oh, don't!" cried Phyllis impul
sively. Somehow she could not bear
: to think of Allan Harrington's dy
ing. He was too beautiful to be dead,
where nobody could see him any
more. Besides, Phyllis privately
considered that a long vacation be
fore he joined his mother would he
only the fair thing for "poor Allan.”
Youth sides with youth. And—the
clear cut white lines of him rose in
her memory and stayed there. She
could almost hear that poor, tired,
toneless voice of his. that was yet
so deep and so perfectly accented.
. . . She bought docilely whatever
her guide directed, and woke from
a species of gentle daze at the af
ternoon's end to find Mrs. De Guen
ther beaming with the weary rapture
of the successful shopper, and her
self the proprietress of a turquoise
velvet walking suit, a hat to match,
a pale blue evening frock, a pale
green between dress with lovely
clinging lines, and a heavenly white
|crepe thing with rosy ribbons and
filmy shadow lace—the negligee of
> one's dreams. There were also slip
i pers and shoes and stockings and —
this was really too bad of Mrs. De
Guenther—a half dozen set of lin
gerie. straight through. Mrs. De
j Guenther sat and continued to beam
«*•»«- uuu; II* 1 II Jill.-5 3
I little bedroom.
“It’s my present, dearie," she said
calmly. “So you needn't worry about
using Angela's money. Gracious, it's
| been lovely! I haven’t had such a
good time since my husband’s little
grand niece came on for a week.
There’s nothing like dressing a girl,
after all.”
And Phyllis could only kiss her.
But when her guest had gone she laid
all the boxes of finery under her bed,
the only place where there was any
room. She would not take any of it
out, she determined, till her sum
mons came. But on second thought,
she wore the blue velvet street suit
on Sunday visits to Mrs. Harring
ton, which became—she never knew
just when or how—a regular thing.
The vivid blue made her eyes nearly
sky color and brightened her hair
very satisfactorily. She was taking
more time and trouble over her looks
now—one has to live up to a tur
quoise velvet hat and coat! She
found herself, too, becoming very
genuinely fond of the restless, anx
iously loving, passionate, unwise
child who dwelt in Mrs. Harrington’^
frail elderly body and had' almost
worn it out. She sat long hours of
every Sunday afternoon, holding Mrs.
Harrington’s thin little hot hands,
and listening to her swift, italicised
monologues about Allan—what she
must do, what he must not do, how
he must be looked after, how his
mother had treated him, how his
wishes must be ascertained and fol
lowed.
“Though all he wants now is dark
and quiet,” said his mother pltieou3
ly. “I don’t even go in there now to
cry.”
She spoke as if it were an estab
lished ritual. Had she been using
her son’s sickroom, Phyllis won
dered, as a regular weeping place?
She could feel in Mrs. Harrington,
even In this mortal sickness, the tre
mendous driving Influence which is
often part of a passionately active
and not very wise personality. That
certitude and insistence of Mrs. Har
rington’s could hammer you finally
into believing or doing almost any
thing. Phyllis wondered how much
his mother’s heartbroken adoration
and pity might have had to do with
making her son as hopeless minded
as he was.
Naturally, the motherinlaw-elect
she had acquired in such a strange
way became very fond of Phyllis.
But indeed there was somethin^ verv
gay and pweet and hone# minded
about the girl, a something, which
gave people the feeling that they
were very wise in liking her. Some
people you are fond of against your
will. When people cared for Phyllis
it was with a quite irrational feeling
that they were doing a sensible thing.
They never gave any of the credit to
her very real, though almost invisi
ble, charm.
She never saw Allan Harrington
on any of the Sunday visits. She was
sure the servants thought she did, for
she knew that every one in the great
dark old house knew her as the
young lady who was to marry Mr.
Allan. She believed that she was
supposed to be an old family friend,
perhaps a distant relative. She did
not want to see Allan. But she did
want to be as good to his little, tense
ly loving mother as she could, and
reassure her about Allan’s future
care. And she succeeded.
It was on a Friday about 2 that the
summons came. Phyllis had thought
she expected it, but when the call
] came to her over the library tele
phone she found herself as badly
frightened as she had been the first
time she went to the Harrington
house. She shivered as she laid
' down the dater she was using, and
called the other librarian to take
i her desk. Fortunately between 1
and 4 the morning and evening shifts
! overlapped, and there was some one
to take her place.
' ‘‘Mrs. Harrington cannot last out
the night," came Mr. De Uuenther'3
I clear precise voice over the tele
^lone, without preface. "I have ar
ranged with Mr. Johnston. You can
I go at once. You had better pack a
suit case, for you possibly may not
be able to get back to your board
ing place.*'
So it was to happen now! Phyllis
felt, with her substitute in her place,
her own wraps on, and her feet tak
ing her swiftly toward her goal, as
if she were offering herself to be
made a nun. or have a hand or foot
I cut off, or paying herself away in
sortie awful, irrevocable fashion. She
packed, mechanically, all the pretty
things Mrs. De Guenther had given
her, and nothing else. She found
herself at the door of her room with
the locked suitcase in lier hand and
not even a nail file of the tilings be
longing t<* her old -self in it. She
shook herself together, managed to
laugh a little, and returned and put
in such things as she thought she
would require for the night. Then
she went. She always remembered
thal journey as long as she lived; her
hands and feet and tongue going on.
llUVtntr tiolrola .j :_1:_
j and her mind, like a naughty child,
j catching at everything as they went,
! and screaming to be allowed to go
back home, back to the dusty, matter
of course library and the dreary little
hoarding house bedroom!
Children and Taxes.
In France, as elsewhere, the chief
burden of the war has fallen Upon the
moderately well to do, and especially
upon those who have children, but
1 ranee stands alone in having met the
crisis with intelligent legislation. The
new inheritance tax is shrewdly de
signed to encourage an increase of the
birth rate in precisely those strata
where It has been lowest, and where a
lack of births is most harmful to the
nation. No tenet of laissez faire Individ
ualism has been more obdurate than
that it Is nobody's business but that of
the parents how many children are
born. The war taught a different les
son, but it remained for the return of
peace to drive hom its full significance.
Necessary as mere numbers are, they
are of no avail unless adequately led,
and is as true in the pursuits of peace
as in warefare. Yet the education for
leadership has been paid for mainly,
not by the state, but by the Individual
—who has already done It one great ser
vice in giving it a new life. It is not
only that the living of the child has to
be provided to the ages of 18, 22 , 25;
every item for food and clothing and
rent includes a tax, indirectly levied.
The state, in its blindness, has acted as
profiteer upon those who aspire to do it
the supreme service. Meantime in those
strata where children receive only the
legal minimum of education the state
provides free hospitals, free schools,
welfare organizations of all kinds, and
is now beginning to provide maternity
grants and mothers' pensions. And
these also are paid for by taxes levied
largely upon the moderately well to do.
It is small -wonder that the birth rate
among the educated is tending to be
come stationary, even to recede, and
that the future citizens of t'he nations
are recruited in an ever-increasing pro
portion from the less well to do.
Chemistry War Weapon.
From the Christian Science Monitor.
Some Interesting sidelights upon the
claims made by Germany that she Is
facing possible bankruptcy, unless the
allies mitigate somewhat the reparation
terms, were cast by a lecture on "Chem
istry and the War,” delivered recently in
London by Professor Francis, dean of
the faculty of chemistry in Bristol Uni
versity. The ammonia future of Europe,
for example, Professor Francis de
clared, lies with Germany, which is in
a position to supply essential fertilizers
to the whole of Europe. This he at-!
firms, however, as a sinble example of
the fact that Germany's position as
regards chemistry Is Immeasurably su
sit tij piJOAt aqi jo isaj oqi seq II s.i3A0a
-sjp isjij ieqi uoneu am 'auin Jo qiSuai
Xue joj soj ojeajo oi aiqjssod si n ji ra
-l*ajS jC[an(iiJU| saninqissod q«M 'mojjb
pus Moq aq) J9AO uijcojij aqi jo jeqj
oi aiqejeduioo aou»ApB ue—tius [»0|tu3qa
aau aqi s;,, 'parepap aq ,,'reia. aqi jo
atnooino 3uiuueia isotu aqi,, arsjjeit
oi XJlsiuiaqa jo uonepj aqi uo leqi'
sum ajnpai siq jo ajnieaj Sunsajaiui
isotu aqi rna pueiSnij jo laqi oi jociad
pocket." Of course, it Is always well
to remember that probably when some [
one nation discovers this secret, anothel
one will discover an antidote to it when
the first blush of sucoess is past. |
Covered Fire.
When winter nights at deepest were. *
After a world of pleasant talk
Before the blazing hickory log,
And when the pauses longer grew.
And the old clock more plainly spoke,
Some one would rise—say drowsily,
"Time now to cover up the fisa."
And I, who never sleepy grew
While tossed that ball of pleasant talk.
Watched ruefully the red coals heaped
With ashes gray and velvet-aoft,
Till not one watchful spark was seen.
And only then my ear took noie
How mournfully the wind could call
Down the great chimney’s darkened
throat.
But up the stairs we climbed, to bed
(I In my dreams to still climb on!)
And, buried up In comforts warm,
My last thought was about the fire
Asleep beneath its coverlet;
But safe and sure to wake up glad,
And leap to meet the morning light—
As I, myself, would wake up glad.
A leaf from childhood’s story book.
Of all who sat around that hearth
In those far, friendly winter nights.
Not one remains, nor hearth remains.
And careless memory makes store
Alone of all that pleasant talk.
These words that as a curfew toll.
To warn how passing late the hour!
"Time now to cover up the lire."
—Edith M. Thomas, In the New Tork
Times.
There was an Increase of 15,401 In vol
ume of Immigration into the United
States through Mexican border ports
during the year 191* ever 191*,. - _
Lift off Corns!
< __________
doesn’t hurt a bit and Freazono
costs only a few cents.
With your fingers! You can lift ol
any hard corn, soft corn, or com be
tween the toes, and the hard skin cal
luses from bottom of feet.
A tiny bottle of “Freestone” cost
little at any drug store; apply a fe^
drops upon the corn or callous. Tr
stantly it stops hurting, then sliortl
you lift that bothersome corn or cal
lous right off, root and all, withou
one bit of pain or soreness, Truly
No humbug!—Adv.
Charity.
The clergyman of a poor parish wa
showing n rich lady round, hoping t<
touch her heart and so receive a bi;
check for ids people.
"We are now passing through th<
poorest slums,” lie said, as the ca
turned Into a side street. “These pec
pie have little to brighten iheir lives.
“I must do something for them,
the lady sighed, adding to tiie chant
four:
“.ratnes, drive tlie car slowly am
turn on tiie big lamps.”—Tit-Bits.
"CARRY ON"! I
If Constipated, Bilious
or Headachy, take
“Cascarets” j
Feel grand! Be efficient! Don’t sta;
sick, bilious, headachy, constipated. Re
move the liver and bowel poison whicl
!s keeping your head dizzy, your tongu
coated, your breath bad and your stom
ach sour. Why not get a small box o
Cascarets nnd enjoy the nicest, gentles
laxative-cathartic you ever experi
enced? Cascarets never gripe, slckei
or Inconvenience one like Salts, Oil
Calomel or harsh pills. Cascarets brini
sunshine to cloudy minds and half-sicl
bodies. They work while you sleep. Adv
Didn’t Fill the Bill.
One day as Harold's father wa
hanging up a; few pictures Harali
begged lilm to let hhn lmng one up
His father gave him a small one an<
walked into another room. When hi
returned he found Harold sitting h
a chair puffing and mopping his fore
head.
“What’s the matter, son? Can’t yoi
get It up?”
“Naw. I guess I’s too short at om
onrl ”
THAT FADED FROCK
WILL DYE LIKE NEW
"Diamond Dyes” Freshen Up Old
Discarded Garments.
Don’t worry about perfect results
Use “Diamond Dyes,” guaranteed t<
give a new, rich, fadeless color to an;
fabric, whether it be wool, silk, linen
cotton or mixed goods,—dresses
blouses, stockings, skirts, children’;
coats, feathers—everything!
Direction Book In package tells hov
to diamond dye over any color. T<
match any material, have dealer shov
you “Diamond Dye” Color Card.—Adv
Off the List.
“Don’t you subscribe to Blank’s mag
azlne any more?”
“No; when I was In France I re
delved a notice from it asking mi
to notify It one month In advance If
changed my address.”—Home Sector.
.1 —. . i i .■ ■
•V*> X * iU-..'4m
"" Still Married.
Gerald—I tender you my hand.
fieraldine—It Isn't legal tender. Yo\
ire not divorced yet.
^ 4 MjjMj jiSy H| HE |H:' ..
^v‘ Jl^y^ A \ LI ERE is an offer backed by one of your personal friend*
* ,S1 1 1 H —a man whom you have known for a long time, and
><*A 1 I in whose honesty you have implicit confidence. This man
. »vy II is your local druggist. He will tell you that be has been
. rvyr* ^ II selling Hunt's Salve, formerly called Hunt’s Cure ever
yi Ll ' mil since he has been in business, under the strict guarantee
M 1 m f I// to promptly refund the purchase price to any dissatisfied
I I M M u*er‘
iV^ M yf — He will say to you “Take home a box of Hunt’s Salve
M f I and if it is not successful in the treatment of itching skin
diseases. I will promptly refund to you your 75 cents.
Hunt’s 8alvs is especially compounded for the treatment
^■ManUIH of Itch, Eczema, Ringworm, Tetter, and other itching
luiK skin diseases.
llllAn The General Manager of the Lida Valley Railway Co.,
^■1 IIKjJll Goldfield, Nevada, A. D. Goodenough, writes: “At one
«« 1|||I|V time I had a very bad case of Eczema, which troubled me
rlrlllff for seven or eight years, and although 1 tried all kinds of
medicine and several doctors, I got no relief until I used
WUttyfUftif Hunt'* Salve. It finally cured me.
Thousands of such letters have been received, testifying
as to the curative merita of this wonderful remedy.
j Don’t fail to ask your druggist about Hunt’s Salve, formerly called Hunt's Cure. ^
! Show him this ad, and ask him if the statement* herein made are not correct. -
'j Sold by all reputable druggists everywhere at 75 cents per box, or sent direct on
receipt of stamps or money order.
IA. B. RICHARDS MEDICINE CO.. Sherman. Texas
4
T- ''-VMk
I
Bell-ans
Hot water
Sure Relief
L-ANS
INDIGESTION
Girls! Girls!!
SaveYourHair
With Cuticura;
f Soap 25c, Ointment 25 and 50c, Talcum 25c.;
:ALLEN’S
; FOOT'EASE
Gives case and
comfort to feet
f ihat are tender
- and sore,
t If shoes pinch
j or corns and bun
ions ache this
Antiseptic. Heal
ing Powder will
give quick relief.
$ Shake it in your
, Shoes. Sprinkle it *
r in the Foot-bath.
* Sold everywhere.
• HOW TO WIN JUWESKSKfS
. postcard to AB.NKR DAVIS, Fort Worth, Toala.
Synonymous.
, It was Springer's afternoon off anil
lie thought lie would take the children
for a little outing.
“My dear,” he said, approaching his
wife, “suppose we take the <#ildreu
to tlic zoo today?”
“Why, Will, you promised to take
them to mother's.”
"All right, if it's all the same to ttie
I children.”
EAT LESS AND TAKE
SALTS FOR KIDNEYS
Take a Glass .of Salts If Your Back
Hurts or Bladder
Bothers.
r The American men and women must
- guard constantly against Kidney trou
1 hie, because we cat too much and oli
t our food is rich. Our blood is filled
- with uric acid which the kidneys strive
E to filter out, they weaken from over
t work, become sluggish ; the eliminative
- tissues clog and the result is kidney
i trouble, bladder weakness and a gen
• era! decline in health. '—
! When your kidneys feel like lumps
: of lead; your back hurts or the urine
• is cloudy, full of sediment or you are
obliged to seek relief two or three
times during the night; if you suffer
• with sick headache or dizzy, nervous
I spells, acid stomach, or you have rheu
• inatlsm when the weather is had, gel
1 from your pharmacist about four
! ounces of Jad Salts; take a table- —
1 spoonful In a glass of water before
breakfast for a few days and yout
kidneys will then act fine. This fa
moils salts is made from the acid ol
grapes and lemon juice, combined
' with llthla, and has been used for
generations to flush and stimulate
clogged kidneys; to neutralize the
acids In the urine so it no longer is a
source of irritation, thus ending
bladder disorders.
Jad Salts is inexpensive; cannot in
jure, makes a delightful effervescent
llthia-water beverage, and belongs In
every home, because nobody can make
| a mistake by having a good kidney
, flushing any time.—Adv.
Ouch!
“You seem to hate „ that fellow
Smith," said Brown. “What is the
trouble between you and him?"
“I introduced him to my wife the
' other day,” replied Jones, “and the
gabby boob had to say: ‘Why, I
' thought that the lady you were with In
New York was your wife.' ”—Cin
cinnati Enquirer.
A Tried Source.
“Tesla says we will soon have to
! turn to the sun for power.”
[ “Not for the sunshine just yet; we
are too busy working on moonshine.”
-—f.-T wwlM-aXae
Fitting Punishment.
“They are railroading this man to
i prison.” "That Is all right; fie Is a
train robber.”