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About Harrison press-journal. (Harrison, Nebraska) 1899-1905 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 2, 1902)
COLDIERS AT HOME. THEY TELL 80ME INTERESTING ANECDOTES OF THE WAR. w the Boys t Both Armlae Whiled Aafty Life ia Ctap-Foraging K acrlencca, Tircaoatc Marchea Taril liag gceaee oa the Battlef eld. Occasionally oue comes across a verse or Hue that unexpectedly touches a dormant chord In the heart and bids the teardrop spring. Into the past we wander under the inaueuce of such ex citant and bygone memories, then come to view pictures long since veiled even from ourselves. Memory uprises, si lences upstart, life and emotion that once were real become again to us a reality. That which in this way touches one heart bid fair to touch others, and Just now a letter in print brings before the writer of these lines a boyish face of the long ago, a childish companion, who turned his face toward the loved South, never by us, his boyhood's friends, to be seen again. But let that pass. The subject is "The Death of Johnnie Burns," possi bly now told for the first time In Its realistic pathos to bis relatives and friends, if relative he has yet living. Johnnie Burns was a Cincinnati boy, a hero whose name history ignores. No shoulder straps were his part, but that he was a hero will be evident to who ever reads the story this Southern sol dier, forty years after the boy's death, tells in bis letter to the Confederate Veteran, which chances to come before my eyes. It is a touchingly pathetic tale, and challenges thought. One cannot but wonder which Baptist Sunday school In this city the boy attended, who were his loved ones, whether that Bible with the bloody finger marks on the fourteenth chapter of St. John ever . reached bis mother. And one cannot but further wonder, after these years have passed, if in this city lives a friend to value this veteran's touching tribute paid to fheir boyish soldier of that sad long ago, or if it strikes only- empty air In the home city where once the child wu a pet With a view of possibly doing a ser vice to relative or comrade, possibly bringing some member of the Fourth Ohio into touch with the Southern sol dier who cared for a brother in blue, I presume to offer for publication this . Confederate's letter concerning the death of Johnnie Burns of Cincinnati. From the Confederate Veteran: , "C. L. Gay, an Alabama veteran, writes that Joe T. Williams of Mont gomery, was a member of company D, Twenty-first Alabama regiment, and tails this: " 'A comrade and I were searching the battlefield of Shilob for some miss ing men of our company. I), of the Twenty-first Alabama regiment. In passing through a swampy thicket near where that regiment charged the "Fourth Ohio regiment early in the morning, we beard the voice of a wounded man crying: "Boys! boys!" Thinking it might possibly be one of our men we went to him. He first beg ged for a drink of water, which I gave him out of my canteen. After he was wounded he had rolled into the edge of this thicket in order to protect himself from being run over by the flying am bulances, artillery and cavalry, con stantly passing near. His left knee cap was entirely shot off, and he was extremely weak from the loss of blood )3ls pitiful appeal to help him we could not and would not resist after talking ltd him. His name was John Burns of 'Cincinnati, Oslo, eonipssy B, Fourth Ohio regiment He begged to be car ried to our field hospital, where be might receive attention, and. If pos sible, get word to his loving mother, .being her only son. He had a small Bible In his hand, with his thumb rest ing Inside on the fourteenth chapter of 4tL John. His thumb being bloody It made a bloody spot on this chapter. He desired that the Bible should be sent to his mother, showing where be last read. " ' Our field hospital being a few hun dred yards in the rear, we carried him there and requested our surgeon. Dr. Redwood, of Mobile, to examine him, which he did In a (few minutes, the hos pital being crowded with patients. On examination the doctor found his wonnd to be fatal and bis physical con dition too weak for aa operation. He was 18 years old. When the doctor told nlm there was no hope he Inquired If there were any Christians present We told htm yes. In the meantime several of our comrades bad gathered around him. He requested a prayer, to which on of as responded, all being deeply touched, then repeating a few lines of tola mother's favorite song: There Is a land of pure delight, Where saints immortal stand. Which he requested us to sing with him. This song begun there was taken up through the entire camps, even back among the Federal prisoners. All around then bade him good-by. He handed me his Bible, and requested sjaa to band It to Sergeant Stevenson, of Company B, Fourth Ohio Regiment. This sergeant knew his family, and he . wanted him to send It to bis mother and tefl ber be "died a Christian." The sing I went to the hospital and be was dead. M 'Aa bis body lay tbars I thought bla fMW bora the moat peaceful look I mm at, I learned this Fourth Ohio rO'fit was a put of General Pren Vf brigade, which we bad almost en VZZt ctytaN kad tbrm eorralletf rrr aw Uses. I toU my captain about C III" it and re. nested a pas to CJ rtawm to see If I eonld f nd ber- t Crain, Be granted my re- rllosi fcmtoi e rewtb -T-rl tzt tazZnt fc Ce sergeant, calling his name. He came forward to know what I wanted. I Inquired if be knew John Burns. He said, "Yes, have you all got him?" I replied, "No, he is In glory." I then told of his death. He was visibly af fected, and I could not restrain myself. He said: "Johnnie Burns was the best boy I ever saw; he was a pet with the company. I boarded with his family in Cincinnati, Ohio, and was bis Sun day school teacher in the Baptist church." Other comrades gathered near and heard of his death, all being very much affected, and expressed their grat itude to me for what I had done. Dur ing my entire service of three years I frequently noticed the fondness which existed between Ohio and Alabama sol diers. ' This narrative I have frequently told, and now, in my declining years, I desire it published. After the battles are over there still exists that tender tie between mankind and human sym pathy which is wondrous kind.' " John Uri Lloyd, In Cincinnati Enquirer. Keneaaw a Picturesque Fight. "The most picturesque battle 1 evei witnessed was at Kenesaw," remarked Gen. Joseph Wheeler. "It was on the morning of June 27, 18S4. that we Con federates found that Sherman had strengthened his picket line, and pres ently he began a warm flre in our di rection. Within half an hour after the small arms opened on us the heavy field pieces began to pour a raking fire into" our lines. Our breastworks were 1 strong and so were those of the Fed- "A MAJESTIC BIOHT, EVEX TO A CON FEDERATE." erals. Directly I knew that this con tinued firing meant an assault upon ns. "When the sun was well up I saw a long line of Federals rise up out of their breastworks, move forward 300 yards and then He down. It was a majestic sight, even to a Confederate. Then In a few minutes another line of soldiers was seen to rise up, march forward 2X yards in good order and then lie down. During all this time the Federals were keeping up a continuous tire. In twenty minutes the fire had be come so fierce that our pickets were driven back and our forces were in a rather demoralized condition. In the meantime a number of Union soldiers had reached our breastworks and were engaged in a hand-to-hand conflict with our men. Then the Confederates rallied and after a half-hour of the fiercest fighting I ever saw they managed to drive the enemy back Into their breast works. Both armies now sent out Bugs of truce and began gathering up the dead and caring for the wounded. I sliall never forget that scene." Chicago Record. Hot title, bat Btauton. The public baa always been under the Impression that Gen. Nelson A. Miles Issued the orders placing the shackles on President Jefferson Davis during his imprisonment, as taught by most histories. Several days ago there was In Mobile F. M. Shlpman, of Me ridian, Miss. In conversation with him the subject of Mr. Davis' impris onment was mentioned, the name of Gen. Miles was mentioned as the of ficer responsible for this seemingly brutal act. Mr. Shlpman, who was then a non tenant in the United States army, saM that he was In command of the guard whose duty it was to watch the fort In which the noted prisoner was kept sad forcibly declares that Gen. Miles was not the one who Issued the orders. He says that the secretary of war, Edwin M. Stanton, was the dictator and Is suer of these great talked of orders. The secretary sent the orders to Gen. Miles, who then gave them to Mr. Shlpman that be might carry them Into execution, which was done. After wearing the shackles for two hours they were removed from the prisoner. Another order accompanied this one, saying that anything on Mr. Davis' person wu to be sent to Gen. Mile. Mr. Shlpman found this duty much more difficult to perform, as tliere were many small articles that Mr. Davis wished to retain. One article In par ticular, was a comb given blm by hla wife, bat In accordance with orders Mr. Shlpman was compelled to send all to Gen Miles, sending with them a request that they be returned to Mr. Davis, which was done a snort time af terward. Mr. fthlpman does not know whether the last order was issued by the secre tory of war or not, says the Binning-, ham (AM.) News, but has every rea son to believe It was. Mr. Davis was allowed neither knife nor fork during his Imprison ment Tbto bards bip Mr. Sntpman wan able to overcome by the assistance of one of the guards who carved from hard weed a knife and fork feat Mr. Davis mlfnx nee. The knife was ia of a lady la AJabasaa wbea GRANDMOTHER'S BOOK. Ned's Selection geeaicd to Suit Her aa Well as Any. When grandmother's birthday ap proached Ned did not know what to give her. He conferred in anxious whispers with his mother j.nd sinters, but their suggestions did not help him. Their advice was really not very sound, but they did not know that until later. As the Chicago News tells the story, the family was surprised. This is what happened r After some days of Indecision Ned went to a book store and bought a book that the dealer recommended, and which Ned. knew .was. a. good oue. Ho had read it himself, and knew that it was full of thrilling scenes and roman tic adventures. "What are you going to give gran' rna?" asked his sister the night before Hie birthday. "I'm giving her 'The I'ilgrim's rrogress,' Minnie has a pret ty shawl for her, and father is going to give her 'Thoughts from Great Minds.' Uncle Horace has sent her 'The Prob lems of To-day. and Aunt Eva has a volume of Carlyle's 'Essays.' " "I've got a book, too," said Ned, rather feebly. "Another lok for her? What is it?" Ned named the novel with some re luctance. "What! For an old lady! That friv olous love-and-s words affair for her! Why didn't you use better Judgment?" "What's the matter with it?" de manded the brother. 'Well, it's too late to exchange it now, I suppose, but you d better sug gest to her that If she prefers you will exchange it for something more sub stantial." "Maybe you know," replied Ned, "but I don't believe in marooning old folks with a bunch of dry-as-dust books." When grandma came down to break fast the morning of bvr birthday Ned's novel stood in all its glory in the midst of the more serious volumes. That night at a late hour, when Ned's sister tiptoed quietly to her own room to avoid waking the other members of the family, she saw the light burning in grandmother's room. Surprised that the old lady should be up at midnight, the girl looked in at the partly opened doi ;r. Grandmother was reading. She was more than half-way through the book, which it was easy to identify by its binding. It was not "The Pilgrim's Progress," nor "The Problems of To day," nor yet the masterful essays of the great Carlyle. With bright eyes and flushed cheeks grandmother was following the fortunes of the hero and heroine of the novel Ned had chosen. A PARTNERSHIP. Half-Ownerabip in a Dog- Made All the Trouble. "Pudd'n'head" Wilson wished that he owned "half of that dog," so he could kill his half. The problem In such a division of ownership turned up in a new form in a story published by a New York weekly. A man named Tom kins called at a lawyer's office and ex plained that he and Potts bad gone shares in a setter pup. "I never quite settled," said the man, "which half I owned, but I formed an idea that I owned the bind end and Potts the front end. Potts' end barked and my end wagged. I didn't object to the bark or to the wag, because they both did the whole dog good. "Well, the other day Potts' end bit a piece out o' my leg. Now Potts Is re sponsible for bis end." "I don't know," said the lawyer. "There is no decision on a case like this. What does Potts say?" "Why, Potts divides the dog the oth er way. He draws a line from the nose to the tail. That gives me one hind leg and one fore leg, an' makes me part proprietor of the head that bit me. Now what do you think? Shall I sue Potts r . "I don't think I should." "Can't I get damages for the piece that's bitten out of me?" "I hardly think so." "Well, you talk about Justice! Don't anybody pretend to tell me that the law protects human beings In their rights! Good-morning!" "Walt a moment, Mr. Tomkins; you've forgotten my fee. "F-f-fee! Tou don't charge If I don't sue, do you?" "Certainly, for my advice. My fee Is five dollars." "That's Just what I paid for my half of the dog. I haven't got a dollar. But I'll tell you; I'll make over my rights In that setter pup to you, and you can go and fight It out with Potts. If that dog bites me again I'll sue you and Potts both, as sure as my name la Tomkins !" Willing to Walt The natives of Sierra Leone are not behind the rest of the world In expect ing a present at Christmas, but unlike more conventional races, they have the candor to ask for R. "Massa," Inquires the native, "what you go give me for my Christmas?" The author of "The Sherbro and Its Hinterland," says that on other special occasions similar re quests are common. In 1887, during the celebration of the Queen's Jubilee, which happened to come at the same time as the centenary commemoration of the founding of the colony of Sierra Leone, a local char acter at Freetown approached me, and ssld, "Massa, what you go to give me for my jubilee V I was not disposed to take the bint, and be added: "What! Tou no give me nutting for my jubilee? Well, no matter! Ton ge give me something for my centenary T' He wna again unsucceasfu); but when I told him that I would think the matter over, and he mi gut come around on bis next centenary, be wane awmy eejte oostestsdL HIS LADY OF HE came suddenly into bis sight dispelling his brown study and interrupting his pipe. She stood beyond the table, beside the door, tall and slight, in a white gown that clung to her arms and shoulders and rounded waist, and swept alout her feet in heavy folds. Across swung from her neck by a long silver chuin, and she wore a broad-brimmed hat with a gauzy white veil, so her face was in shadow. She leaned slightly toward Ashe as he clutched the arms of his big chair and sat forward la amaze ment. "I am the Princess Coustantla Gre gorlus," she said gently. "Of of Hussia?" he asked stupidly, trying to fan away the haze of tobacco smoke. "There are other lands," she said In differently. "And not so far away." "Great Caesar!" he breathed, bewil dered, and his pipe dropped from his astonished fingers. With the feeling that It was the only bond between him and rationality, be stooped to pick it up, and as he rose be struck his head sharply against the corner of the libra. ry table. Dizzy from the blow, be stag gered to bis feet and looked towards the door. She was gone, as mysteri ously as she had come. He rushed blindly around the table and across the room, stumbling over easy chairs and footstools, and sending a revolving bookcase spinning around. The hall was also empty. No trailing gowns had turned up the edges of the rugs, nor could he hear any hurrying steps on the polished stairs. He blinked at the sun pouring red and purple through the painted window for a moment, and then turned back and sat down on the nearest chair. Good heavens! what a dream! Who was she? What was her motive In appearing and - announcing herself in that royal way? And he hadn't seen her face! Well, if it was as pretty as her figure oh, confound his head; and he was still feeling of it gingerly, too dazed to think of more than one thing at a time, when he heard his friend's cheerful whistle in the hail. "Well, old chap," said Thurston, com ing in. "Phew! but that pipe of yours Is a fright! If we don't air this room be fore the mater gets into it, your goose is cooked!" "Why, what will she do?" cried the other uncertainly. "You'll never get another bid for Sunday," said the first, throwing open one of the windows. "Gee! I didn't realize how rank Cissie Is getting. Ke tlre her, Billy, and get another. But say, what's the matter, old man? I left you composing a sonnet and going to sleep over it What's wrong?" Ashe looked down at his maligned pipe, and then up at Uis friend. Say do you suppose she thought It was rank?" he asked. The mater?" said Thurston, puz zled. "She hasn't been here already, hits she? If so, we'd better go back to-night Did she wake you up'" No, I dreamed It" said the owner of the pipe, and began to feel of his bump with a frown of pain. His friend looked at him for a moment curiously, and then aimed a licnvy leather cush ion from the nearest Morris chair at him. "Wake np, yon idiot!" he a!d. "This .3 uO S.vCy ua Celt . a ut iuivl imA l iou the cushion. "Dick, has your sister a friend vis iting her?" he inquired. "No," said the other. "Well, there was one in here, any way," pursued Ashe. "One what!" demanded Thurston. "One princess," said the other. His host surveyed him In silence for a mo ment "Ashe, you're crazy!" he said at last "Come out and take a walk." Mr. Wllmerlng Ashe was making for himself a rather neat reputation with readers of current magazines as a writer of clever little occasional verses. Among bis friends at bis dubs be was considered a good fellow, and they chose to assume that somewhere he '.opt hidden away the person who rote bis verses for hi in. His mother's friends approved of him because he paid bis calls, and be was chiefly fa mous with the young ladles of his rath er general acquaintance, as a master of i lie aits of Welsh rarebltry snd badi nage. But no one was prepared for the almost Oriental beauty and mysti tlsin of bis latest verses, which appear ed in one of the best of the monthly periodicals under the name of "My I -aly of the Realm of Dreams," and which would have done credit to a much more ambitious poet than Billy Ashe. Ashe himself thought rather well of them; be felt that it In some way compeisutted for the very nasty knock on the head that tbe Lady had the means of giving him, and that he liad turned a most perplexing dream to very good account It was better than Inking It to the Society of Psychical Kesearcb, which be had thought of do ing in tbe vividness of his first Im pression, but six Months without any further developments, waking or sleep ing bad dulled his keen conviction of its psychic value. Meanwhile, a com fortable check from tbe magazine bad teemed to take tbe thing oat of tbe pro vince of psychic research. Ashe was a modes man, bat not too nucb so to find a little lionising quite 10 bis taste, and be went to afternoon teas and cotillions with a feeling that o-morrow would be some oae else's 'Uy, and he most gather bla rones while be might Mo be entered Mrs. DREAMS Foster's long drawing-room prepared to smile as he listened to his verse mis quoted by fair flatterers; he retained that serene attitude of mind while he shook bauds with Mrs. Foster, and not one minute longer. For beyond Mrs. Foster, standing just outside the ring of light from s tall lamp; was the I.ady of his dreams, with her white gown that clung to her shoulders and round waist, and flared with heavy folds at her feet This time she wore a fan on the long silver chain around her neck, and she had no hat nor veil, so Ashe soulu see that she was regarding him with the frankest interest from a pair of most attractive brown eyes. He flushed with surprise, and his re murks to Mrs. Fowter died on his Hi. She was not a dream, then, his prin cess! A sudden recolbv-tlon of the check from the "Hundred Years" made him warm, and as a corollary came the realization of his narrow escape from the Society of Psychic Research-good heavens! Meanwhile Mrs. Foster was saying graciously, "So good of you to come, Mr. Ashe, and not to forget your old friends, now you are such a celeb rity. And to reward you, I am going to Introduce you to a very dear young friend of mine, Miss Gregory, who ad mires your poems so much." And Ashe found himself before his princess, while Mrs. Foster went on fluently, "Constance, my dear, this Is Mr. Aehe," and turned to greet another guest All remnants of his self-possession vanished at tbe sound of the names, and Interrupting Miss Gregory's polite expressions of delight at making his acquaintance, Ashe asked abruptly: "Are you a princess?" She opened her brown eyes wider and looked at blm in surprise. "Do do you believe In telepathy and astral bodies?" he went on after a moment's pause. "Or are you only a dream?" "Dear me!" said the girl. "Mrs. Fos ter said you were so nice, and not startling that no one would know that you were a poet or anything else at all awe-inspiring, and here you have.called me three alarming names In as many minutes. is this poetic license, Mr. Ashe?" "Did you really mind Cissy Loftus?" he asked anxiously. "You see, she's my favorite pipe, but she's rather old, and I'm afraid she's a little too strong to be pleanant to strangers. But I didn't expect you, you know, when you came in so suddenly." Tbe girl's face was gravely puzzled, but her eyes looked amused. "I'm afraid Mrs. Foster lias a mistaken idea of you," she said with a shake of her head. "Whore do you live?" Inquired Ashe. "When you are not in a dream, you know when you are not In the Thurs ton's library?" "Well," said Mis Gregory, "I am re lieved. I am glad to find that I cn at last take an Intelligent Interest In the conversation. The Thurston's li braryisn't it a fascinating place?" "You weren't in It long enough to find out" objected Ashe. "And do you think it was quite kind of you to make me bump my head?" "Long enough! I've spent hours In the Thurston's library," said the girl in mock 'ndlgnatlou. "And I never made you bump your bead." "Well, perhaps not consciously," ad mitted Asbe, "but It was under your spell." Miss Gregory looked at him with a smile beginning to show at the corners of her mouth. "You are certainly casting a spell over me," she said. "Really, Mr. Ashe, I don't know what you mean I'm sure I never bad anything to do with your bumping your head, but I'm not sure that it wouldn't do It good." "Cruel!" said Ashe. "Well, since you won't admit It lot's begin again. I am very glad to meet you, Miss Greg ory. Mrs. Foster is too good to me. Do you know, your face is very famil iar haven't I met you before?" "Mrs. Foster has been kind to me too," replied Miss Gregory prettily. "No, Mr. Asbe, I'm sure that I should not have forgotten It If we bad met before. My home Is not In New York, and I am not here very much. But I have beard of you often, from Mrs. Foster, and the Thurstons In Morris town, and, of course, I have read your verses." "How time must clamor at your doors to be killed!" said Ashe. "Ah. now you are unkind to your little brain-child!" reproached tbe girl. "You have been sufficiently overkind to even up accounts in mentioning them at all," returned Asbe. "There, you see I csn do tbe proper; now, for heaven's sake. Miss Gregory, tell me If I dream ed of you, or saw you, thst dsy at Dick Thurston's V The girl drew back. "I don't understand you," she said, a little haughtily, and then she smiled at bis crestfallen face. "It can't be possible!" lusted Asbe. ''The Princes ConsUntia Oregorlus and I was ass enough to ask of what! Don't you know. Miss Gregory didn't you realize that you are my 'Lady of Dreams T " "IT said Mlaa Oregory-"I your Lady of oh, Mx. Ashe! Remeber that I'm not a resident not to tbe manner born, aa It were. I'm Just a country cousin from Blngtiamton. Do you think If a nice to make fan of me? Ooostantla Gregorlns, Indeed!" She laughed oat, a merry little laugh. " 'She comes from a land nor near nor far,' " said Asbe, guilty of the banality or quoting tta own v Miss Gregory surveyed biw with amusement "This Is too fins s frenzy for me," sh announced. "Aren't you hungry, Mr. Ashe? Shan't we go and have some thing to eatr Ashe followed her me chanically. "Don't you sometimes wear a crosn on that chain." he asked. "Sometimes," she answered, with lift ed eyebrows. "Wern't you In Morristown at toe Thurstons' last September?" be pur sued. "Yes. I was In Morrlstown, but only occasionally at the Thurstons', she re turned. "Then you did walk Into the library one Sunday afternoon and tell me you were the Princess ConstantJa Grego rlus," he said positively. "Mr. Ashe!" she eahl reprovingly. "Have you a twin sister?" aaked Ashe desperately. "1 am all the daughters of my fath. er's house." she said lightly, but ber eyes were dancing as she gave blm his chocolate. "Ion't you remember the painful taking off of Sapphira?" he inquired sternly. Miss Gregory counted on ber fingers. "A princes, Ounstantia Gregorlus, an astral body-let me see! a dream, and now a liar!" she said. "Oh, fie, Mr. Ashe!" "I have $.V that belongs to you," said Ashe Irrelevantly. "I beg your pardon?" said the girl blankly. "By rights," asservated Ashe, with a nod. "Half of what I got for that poem, you know. I calculated that my thought and labor are good for half, but you furnished the Idea, you see." Miss Gregory sat down on tbe nearetrt chair and laughed aloud. Ashe sipped his chocolate meditatively and watched her. "For a poet," stie said at last, "you are most unexpectedly practical." "When I've offered to share my in come with a comparative stranger a chimerical, elusive dream-lady at that?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "I'm not sure about chimeras, but I think they were monsters of some kind," said the girl. "And your In come in too small to be alluring, Mr. Ashe. If you don't wish any more of that chocolate, won't you have some thing cold? No. We'll, then come back to Mrs. Foster. I'm afraid you'll le borrowing money of me next, to say nothing of the way in which you are straining your poetic fancy to find flattering names for me." She took bis cup and turned away. Before he eoultl follow he was seized upon and carried off in triumph by some fair admirers, and a quick glance back showed him that a fortunate elderly gentleman had taken possession of her, so he resigned himself to the inevitable, ami did not see her again until Just as he was leav ing. He had looked for her to say good, bye, but in vain, and Mrs. Foster did not know where she had hidden her self, so he was starting off, disappoint ed, but resolved not to let tbe thing drop, when her voice stopped him with his hand on tbe door. "Au revolr, Mr. Ashe," she said, leaning toward him from the lowest step of the stairway. "Au revolr." "Thank you," he responded heartily. "And very soon, most fair lady of ttw realm of my tlreains." "That Is really a lovely thing, Mr. Ashe," slie said, "and lam very proud to think that you think that I had any part In It." "But didn't you?" he demanded. "Do I believe in telepathy?" she ask ed mockingly. "Am I an astral body, or a bad dream?" He shook his high bat .... C - '- " ' "The truth is not in you. Mademoi selle Sapphira," he announced. "Hear the lion growl!" she retorted, with a saucy nod, and turned to go up stairs. He took a step toward ber. "Miss Gregory!" he said Imploringly, "Seriously, now?" she looked at blm over her shoulder with dancing eyes. "Do you know, until to-day, I always supposed It was Dick Thurston that I woke up that afternoon," she said con fidentially, and ran lightly upstairs. N. Y. Evening Poet Height of the Atmosphere. One thing may be said about the new atmosphere. That of old was supposed to be not over sixty miles high. Its ratio of decrease of density seemed to prove this. Tbe atmosphere la now be lieved to be fully 500 miles high. This belief Is based upon a study of tbe fall of meteorites. These free wander era of space plunge into tbe upper air at so great a speed that their friction, even with the extremely rare gas at that high altitude, soon heats them to Incandescence, and tbey flame Into light Tbey have been observed to flash out In this wsy at a height of over 100 miles. At this elevation the air must be so exceedingly rare as to render It certain that friction with several hun dred miles of It would be needed to beat a meteor to tbe Incandescent point From tbls It Is estimated that the upper limit of the atmosphere cannot be less than 500 miles above the sur face. It may be much more, says Charles Morris In Llpplncott The air may extend upward as fsr as the force of gravity Is capable of overcoming Its centrifugal fores, which steadily In creases with height How high that la no one can tell. Quite Unpardonable. Edmonla-Mra. Topnotch Is wbt I call Impertinent Eudocla-In what way? Edmonla Why, she Is not a colonial dame, but when she came to tbe colo nial reception abe had on a more ele gant frock than any one of tbe dam as. -Detroit Free Press. It tis;es tbe divorce Jodgea to annua a woman.