Harrison press-journal. (Harrison, Nebraska) 1899-1905, October 02, 1902, Image 4

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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
" ' 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-
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
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
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.
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!
"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
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
"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
"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.
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
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
"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.
"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
"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
"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
"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
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.
"I have $.V that belongs to you,"
said Ashe Irrelevantly.
"I beg your pardon?" said the girl
"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
"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
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.