Nebraska Newspapers

    Tide's Vindication
XE October morning the village
of Alden, which lies on the
western slopes of the Adiron
dack Mountains, was thrown into a
state of much excitement The finest
beep In the village, a small flock of
Soutbdowns, owned by Squire Kenton,
had been slaughtered during the uight
In a few days they were to have been
taken to the county seat, there to be
' exhibited at the anual fair.
Every inhabitant of Alden toi-k an
interest in the beautiful creatures,, and
was sure they would have been award
the premium.
The squire was naturally much in
censed, and offered a reward of fifty
dollars to the oue who should trace
and kill the dogs that had wrought
such devastation.
it was known there had bejn trouble
between the squire anil Joe Kinney, a
hunter who lived on the outskirts of
I the village. The winter before Joe
had been tried aud imprisoned for the
illegal killing of deer, and at that time
' he hud vowed, to get even with Mr.
Fenum, who made the complaint
against him.
Joe owned several savage dogs, and
It was thought he might know- some
thing about the killing of the sheep.
The reward had stimulated the vil
lage constables, and rumors were cur
rent that Kinney would be arrested on
suspicion and taken before the grand
Jury.
Joe had often been my hunting com
panion. After viewing the dead .sheep as they
lay in Teuton's tield, I strolled out
to the hunter's little shanty. He had
heard of the suspicious connecting him
with the matter, aud was glad enough
to see a friendly face.
At his request I described the ap
pearance of the slaughtered animals.
Seven sheep had been killed, the throat
of each one being torn. Lying with
the sheep was the squire's collie dog.
The faithful fellow must have heard
the disturbance, and died in trying
to defend his charges. Traces of blood
on the ground proved he had made a
hard fight before succumbing.
The village gossips thought no dug
in the neighborhood was capable of do
ing such cruel work unless it be Joe's
big Tlge (as one of his dogs was
called), and even Tige, they intimated,
might need aid and urging on.
The hunter listened with attention,
and I saw that he had a theory of his
own. But when he beard the rumor
that he had taken part in the massacre
he grew indignant
- "Me and Tige are two dogs that have
a bard name; so they lays all bad
work to us. If Tiire wanted to kill
Fenton's collie and sheep, he didn't
need any help. But I tell ye he warn't
there. He slept by my bunk last night;
then don't you see he ain't got no
parks of fightin'?" '
Tige, at the sound of his name, rose
from the spot where he was sunning
himself aud walked up to us. lie was
white in color, of heavy, powerful
build, and looked as if he might be a
mixture of bulldog and hound. Ue was
covered with the partially-healed
marks of former battles, but had no
fresh wounds.
"Them fellers says Tige is the dog
that done the business.", continued the
humor, rand it warn't' himi was It?
To rue it has the 'pearance of a wolf."
Joe said this in a way -that 'carried
conviction to me. To be sure, it was
some years since wolves had been seen
In the neighborhood, but it .was 'quite
possible for one to have . wandered
down from the mountains.
When Joe said Tige had not left the
bouse the night before I believed him.
The dog's appearance was one proof;
moreover, in my acquaintance with Joe
Kinney. I bad found him truthful, even
in matters where most hunters are
willing to exaggerate.
As Joe's friend, I was willing to aid
him in any way I could in proving Irs
innocence. It was not yet noon, and
he proposed I should go for my gun,
and then Join him in pursuit of the
real culprit.
By half -past twelve I had had din
ner, and returned to the hunter's shan
ty, armed with my light rifle. '
One of Joe's dogs was a small mon
grel bound, which would track any
thing from a red squirrel to a panther.
With this dog he proposed to make a
circuit about the Fenton steep pas
ture. If our suspicions were correct, the
hound would be sure to find the wolf's
track. Once found, there would be
little danger of losing it Joe's favor
ite weapon was a long, old-fashioned
mnsket When this was brought out,
the villagers knew tbe hunter was lent
M bringing home big game.
Ha charged the musket with a band
- tai of destructive-looking "slugs," put
a chain on the hound, whistled to Tige,
and we were ready for the hunt.
As we marched through the squire's
fields we were intently watched by a.
group of men wbo lingered near the
acMM of the disaster. ' " '
stone wall, with a ditch ' parallel
ta It, stretched awajr , from one' end
as? tka abeep paatore. As we reached
. Ctla wail the bound coifed about
whlaaartnf excitedly.
Jaa walked along the ditch, and,
Ctarag, pointed out to ma what
V lad ia a large dog track Imprtatad
& aa aartu. It waa naarly tka
' rrt rT a futbar'a track. Bat wkata
t trraatai that t aatgt to aa of
.-C MSMta. tka
a panther would kill one sheep and
drag it off. Only a wolf was capable
of destroying an entire flock for the
sake of drinking their blood.
Still keeping him chained, we let the
hound guide us along the trail. Half
a mile beyond lay a cedar swamp, cov
ering about thirty acres of ground, and
straight to this swamp led the track
we were following.
Upon reaching the edge of the cover.
Joe halted. lie thought it probable
that the wolf was in hiding near by.
If the animal intended another raid
on the eh-ep folds, this was the most
natural place iu w hich to secrete him
self until nightfall; if he was ready to
return to the mountains, he would be
likely, after the night's effective work,
to rest during the day In this nvfumji,
resuming his journey under cover of
darkness.
A wolf would never attempt to tra
verse in daylight the thirty miles of
farm laud which lay between him aud
the Adirondack forest
If the hunter was right iu his sur
mise as to the animal's hiding place, it
behooved us to form some plan of at
tack. On the cast side of the swamp two
wood roads used by farmers In draw
ing cedar for their fences led from the
opeji Into the center of the woods.
In Joe's opinion, the wolf, If started
by the hound, would leave the thick
cover by one of these tvo roads.
"For a wolf," he explained, "ain't
like a fox or a rafcbit, to scuttle along
close to the ground; he's built higher,
and don't want his face slapped by
dead cedar branches any more thau we
want our'n."
Joe proposed I should hurry around
the swamp aud station myseif iu one
of the wood roads; he would wait ten
minutes before lotting the hound go on
the scent, and then would himself try
to reach the other road before the
game was started.
I easily found one of the paths,
which I followed Into the woods for
a short distance. In taking my stand
I moved a step or two back from the
beaten track, so that, while I was my
self concealed, I could look along the
narrow lane formed by the road and
Its walls of dense cedar.
But a few minutes had passed aft
er reachiug my station when the si
lence was broken by the hound's bay
ing. The foliage about the dog was
so thick that his voice had a strange,
muffled sound.
The dog could not be more than
forty rods away. If the wolf had
started and was coming in my direc
tion, he would reach me almost imme
diately. As, I was feeling in my pocket to
know if the cartridges were where I
could easily get at them, there was a
slight pattering along the road, and,
peering through the bushes, I saw a
tall, grayish animal trotting toward
me.
lie was in no hurry, stopping to lis
ten to the hound, and seeming half in
clined to stop and teach the presump
tuous pursuer a lesson.
Where I stood the cedars were so
thick that it vat In possible for me to
fire. I waited until the animal was
within twenty feet, then, clipping in
to the road, confronted him. My rifle
was at my shoulder, ready to Are.
I supposed he would either halt for
an instant or turn aud endeavor to
escape, in either case I felt confident
of putting a bullet through him; but
the wolf had more courage than I gave
him credit for, or else lie attempted to
run by me, for. instead of turning, he
charged down (lie road directly at me.
The peril of the moment compelled a
hasty aim;. the builel went wide of the
mark, .and I had no time to reload be
fore the wolf was crouching in the
road, almost at my feet
Clubbing the riile. I gave him a bard
blow across the bead, but his skull
seemed proof against such attacks. Be
fore I could recover from the mo
mentum of tiie blow I had struck, the
wolf threw himself against my chest.
Mv foot slipped and I went over back
ward. The title was dashed from my grasp,
but as we fell I got a tirm grip with
both hands In the long hair at the crea
ture's throat.
The wolf stood over me. I was won
dering how much longer I would be
able to keep him ut arm's length. His
struggles aud plunges were fast ex
hausting me, when something white
flashed across the road, striking the
wolf with such force as to knock him
from my grasp.
Hungering to my feet I saw the wolf
anil old Tige grappling with each other
in deadly combat.
As they rolled about In the road
neither animal seemed to be gaining
any Advantage over his opponent, yet
the wolf was so much the more agile
that I feared he would tire out the
dog nml escape.
.Catching up my rifle from Hip
ground, I was about to interfere, when
a voice cried: .
"Walt a minute; let 'em tight Jt out!"
Joe scrambled through the bushes
and stood at my side.
'They said be did It, so It's fair
Tlge bad the first chance at him that
did the killing. TtgVs moat laterested
aad I aest I'U aee be don't get awa.N
Bat tbera waa no need af asJag tka
muakat While Joe waa speak lag tka
dog bad managed to aelae his aatag
aalat by tka throat and In a moment
two tka straggle waa ended.
Joe called off the dog. and carefulla.
exfltnlncd the dead wolf. Besides the
Uiksj of Tlge's teeth there were
wounds which Joe said must have been
made the night before by the squire's
collie.
We slung the wolf across a pole and
carried him from the swamp. A group
of men loitered alxiut the sheep pas
ture, among them being the tall figure
of Squire l'euton. They watched us
and our burden with curiosity.
When we were near the spot where
we first discovered the wolfs track in
the ditch Joe halted aud shouted to the
men to come forward.
When they had reached us, he point
ed out the large track node the night
previous iu the ditch. Iruen close to
this track in the soft earth Ue made an
impression with one of the wolf's
paws.
Tile two feet were exactly alike.
He then called Tige into the ditch.
The dog's tracks was fully a third
smaller 1han the other two.
Tige was vindicated.
The squire ojM-ned his pocketbooi
and put a roll of bank notes into Joe's
hand.
"That," said he, "Is the fifty dollars
reward which belongs to you." He
hesitated, coughed uneasily, and then
continued: "Mr. Kinney, I fear I've
wronged you, or at least allowed you
to be unjustly suspected. Now, I want
a reliable man to take charge of my
live stock, cattle aud sheep. I can af
ford to pay the right person good
wages. Will you take the place?"
A flash of pleasure at this proof ol
confidence lit up t lie hunter's face.
"Thank'ee, squire, thauk'ee! Bui
I'm too much of a backwoodsman tc
quit hunting and trapping. Howsom
ever. If I ever do work, it'll be foi
you."
With this compliment to the squire,
Joe whistled to his dog and moved
away.
When I again visited Alden, gevcra,
years later, the spirit of work had not
yet taken possession of the trapper
but there were no better friends In tht
country than Squire l'euton aud Jof
Kinney. Golden Days.
They Hid Their Keys.
Among the engaging ways of tin
eternal feminise U the propensity t
lock things up aud hide the keys. Au(
how It does exasperate their husbands
Take the case of an amiable young
woman who carefully fastened her bet
tor-half's evening clothes in his sui
case, put the key to this in the bureau
locked the drawer and promptly lost
its key. This was annoying, to be sure
especially as the man in question bai
but half an hour to dress and get tt
the house of the friend who bad invitee
him to a very smart dinuer party. Theri
is only one valid reason for being lat
at a dinner if a member of one's fain
ily falls dead be is excused; otherwis
not Imagine the feelings of this mar
tyr then, who had to break open tht
suit case, and even then arrived at hli
host's house after the soup had beep
taken off.
Another wife's favorite hiding plaes
for the key of the silver chest was In
the pocket of her husband's seldom
used huntliig clothes. He did go off on
a hunting expedition to North Carolina
l ist winter, however, carrying the key
with him, unwittingly, of course, and
the way that the family had to borrow
forks and spoons when company ar
rived unexpected at the house Is still
told around that neighborhood.
The fact is the average woman has
no use for a key. She would rather
hide things than lock them up. Sh
has no chain to carry her keys on, anJ
the key basket lias gone out of fashion.
London First Night.
It was at the London first night ol
oue of his oiid plays that tieorge Ber
nard Shaw came lx-fore the foot light
iu answer to repeated and enthusiastic
calls for the aufnor. He had Jusl
opened bis mouth to thank the ap
plauders when a voice from the gallery
called out, "I think the play was rot
ten!" Mr. Shaw looked up at him
quickly aud said, "I agree with you
absolutely, but what chance do we twe
stand against nil these others?" II
was another play of Mr. Shaw's, on
that had been acted at a private mat
inee, which he quit town rather than
see. At the end of the comedy. In an
swer to calls for the author, the stage
manager came out and read a note
from the author saying that, having
wen the play once, lie bad gone many
miles Into the country rathix than risk
the danger of having to s-e It again.
Mr. Mclllan, the American drama
tist, who writes under the name of
Hugh Morton, also never saw a per
formance of his uneven but remark
ably clever Katire called "The Girl
from Up-Tliere," and explained his no
tions by saying that he was paid for
writing the play, not for seeing It
Leslie's Monthly.
No Incentive for Oasl.
"1 dntiiii) what to do about Josh,"
said Farmer Cornlossel. "He don't
seem to have much enterprise."
"You've been complalnln' 'bout the
boy ever sence we went to that tbe
nyter," replied his wife, reprovingly.
"You've gone ahead an' cleared all
the debts off the place, an' ef there
ain't any incentive for Josh to go out
in the wide world nn' bustle, so's be
can come back an' lift the mortgage
Jes' as the landlord Is about to fore
close. It's your own fault" Washing
ton Star.
It doesn't niake so much difference
about tbe Idle girls, but those wbog
have to work all day should really
bare been born wltb curly hair.
Aa attorney wbo flies a personal la
jury suit without alleging damage to
tka aplne Isn't onto bla Job, A. jury
can't aee tka spina.
D. Appleton Sc. Co. have )n-t Issued
a theater edition of "The Manxman,"
by Hall Caiue.
The Canadian edition of Mrs. Hum
phry Ward's "Lady Hose's daughter"
is the largest edition of any singie
novel ever sold to the Canadian mar
ket iu advance of publication.
Kdward W, TownseuU has euMie'y
abandoned his "Chlulmie Faddeii"
vein and struck a novel idea iu "A
Summer in New York," which Henry
Holt &. Co. will publish shortly.
Frauces Charles, the young San
Francisco author whose "In the Conn
try God Forgot" was favorably re
ceived a year ago. has wtilten " ih--Siege
of Youth." a story of the pres
ent day. with its scenes iu San Fran
cisco. It deals with art. with Journal
ism an 1 with human nature.
In "No Hero," the early publleat i 'it
of which Is announced by Charles
Scrlbncr's Sons, K. W. ilornung Is
said to lie seen in an altogether differ
ent vein from that presented by The
Amateur Cracksman" and "The Shad
ow of the Hope." but with all the in
terest of these and former novels.
"A Daughter of Hie I'll,' just pub
lished, is the first novel by Mrs. Mar
garet Doyle Jackson, whose father
was an English army oftiecr. Her
early life was spent in the north of
England, where she saw a great deal
of the colliery life which her novel
portrays. She now lives in New York
City.
Henry Holt & Co. are sending Pro
fessor Kuno Franeke's "History of
German Literature" to press for the
sixth time. One reason for the popu
larity f tills work is the author's
remarkable sympathy with and under
standing of the great modern German
dramatists, like Hauptmann aud Su
dcrmann. lr. S. Weir Mitchell is one of the
oldest story-tellers now writing foi
the English-reading public; he also
writes verse and he Is oue of the most
famous physicians. His latest volume,
:"A Comedy of Conscience," about to
be Issued by the C -nlury Conipanv. is
k "detective" story with distinct psy
chological and ml. lea! Interest.
Frank L. Slantou Is as much be
loved In his Georgia home as friend
and companion, by those who know
him best, as he is for his quaint oud
haunting melodies. Long before his
songs made him known in the world
of letters he had won an established
place in the hearts of Georgians by
bis humorous and always good-natured
and charming writings in the
papers. The first songs were exceed
ingly brief, humble, and tentative. He
was trying the flight of his muse. They
were the prelude only, and soon, from
a fuller aud more strenuous throat,
came the thrillingly sweet music of
the people's hearts in "Songs of the
Soli." published eight years ago. ami
to be followed now by "Cp from Geor
gia.". Stanton is essentially a poet of
the people, like a new Burns.
Distinguished literary men are Just
like ordinary folk, after all. They do
not live In a, cloud of inspiration, and
the incense that people burn under
their noses is likely to choke them.
Mark Twain once told a hysterical ad-
,mircr that he had writer's cramp early
in his career. When asked what h
took for it he answered, "Beefsteak."
Samuel Johnson, although not an ordi
nary man In any of bis ideas or hab
its, took a very common-place view of
bis profession. He said that a man
was a fool to write for anything but
money, and when asked If he did not
like to write, answered that it Is not
.pleasant to write, but It Is pleasant to
have written. The other day, says tin
Argonaut, an inquisitive lady was talk
ing with James Whlteomb Klley about
the poor material reward that comet
to poets. "Rut. Mr. Itlley," she said,
"you have no cause for complaining.
You must be a very rich man. I under
stand you gi?t a dollar a word for all
you write." "Ye-e-s, madam." said
Riley, with his slow drawl; "but some
times I sit all day and can't think of
a single word."
First NiKhtn in 1'hiladelphla.
Philadelphia Is more like London
than any other American eitj in its
unmanageable gallery. Mr. Sothern
produtad "The King's Musketeer
there and the first performance lasted
very late. In the last Intermission th
gallery boys sang. "We won't go horns
until morning," and wheu, in tLe final
act, the queen majestically struck a
gong, a )oy called out, "Heavens, U't
one o'clock!" Miss Etiiel Barry more,
who was brought up iu Philadelphia,
by her' grandmother, the late Mrs.
John Drew, long the favorite actress,
manager of the city, made her stellar
debut there iu "Captain Jinks of the
Horse Marines." The gallery checn d
her through the performance by culling
her "Our Ethel," and reminding her l
frequent Intervals Hint "We knew yow
grandmother, and you're nil right."
At the end of the play, when she led
Mr. Fitch forth, they shown! very
plainly that they didn't want him but
only their "Ethel," "You're play's rot
ten," I bey called, "but you're tbe reaj
thing, Ktbel!" Leslie's Monthly.
In crying orer split milk, a uinn
tops long enough to claim It wai
cream.
There are some people who dress h
rube costumes and never know It
OLD-
FAVORITES
Ben Bolt.
Don't you remember sweet Alice, Ben
Alice, whose hair wm jo brown,
Who wept with delight when you, gave
her a smile.
And trembled with fear at your frown?
In the old churchyard in the valley, lien
Bolt,
In s corner obscure and alone,
They have fitted a slab of granite so
gray.
And Alice lies under tbe alone.
Under the hickory tree, Ben Bolt,
Which stood at tlie foot of the bill,
Together we've lain in the uoonday
shade,
And listened to Appleton's mill.
The mill wheel ban fallen to piece, lieu
Bolt.
The rafters hnve tumbled in.
And a quiet which crawls round the
walls as you gaze
Has followed the olden din.
Do yon mind the cabin of logs, Ben Bult,
At the edge of the pathless wood,
And the button ball tree with its motley
limbs.
Which nigh to the doorstep stood?
The culiiu to ruin bus gone, Ben Bolt,
The tree you would seek for in vain;
And where once the lords of the forest
waved
Are grass and golden grain.
And don't you remember the school, lien
Bolt,
With the master so cruel and grim,
And the shady nook in the running brook
s Wliefe the children went to swim?
Grass grows on the master's grave, Ben
Bolt,
The spring of the brook is dry,
And of all the boys who wore school
mates then
There are only you and I.
There is a change in the tilings I loved,
Ben Bolt,
They have changed from the old to the
new;
But I feel in the deeps of my pirit the
truth.
There never was change in you.
Twelve months twenty have passed, Ben
Bolt.
Since lirst we were friends yet I hiiil
Your presence a blessing, your friend
ship n truth,
Ben Bolt of the mlt sea gale.
Thomas lnnti English.
Tbe Holy City.
Last night I lay a sleeping there came
a d re ii in so fair,
I stood in old Jerusalem beside the tem
ple there.
I heard the children singing, and ever aa
they sung,
Methotiglit the voice of angels from
heaven In answer rang.
Jerusalem, Jerusalem, lift up your gnteri
1 and sing,
JHosanna in the highest. Hosanns to your
king.
And then metbo't my dream wns chung-
( ed, the streets no longer rang,
Hush'd were the glnd Hosanrma, the lit
tle children aang.
The sun grew dork with mystery, the
morn wns cold and chill,
As the shadow of a cross arose upuii a
lonely hill.
Jerusalem. Jerusalem, Hark! bow the
ungeia si!ir,
Hoaannii iu the highest, Hosanna to your
king.
And once again the scene was chatig'd.
npw earth there seetn'd to be,
I saw the Holy City beside the tidelcss
Hpa :
fTbe light of God was on its streets, the
gate were opened wide.
And all who would might enter, no one
waa denied.
No need of moon or stars by night, nor
sun to shine by day,
It was the new Jerusalem that would
not nnss away.
lUeruMlem, Jerusalem, sing for the night
H is o'er.
HHosanna in the highest, Hosanna for-
evermore,
u F. E. Wealherly.
I
rUBBERNCKING" ACCIDENTS.
Five Women Hurt Dally In Chicago
Because They Will Btare.
Five women a day, according to the
police reports, are burt in the shop
ping districts by street cars or other
vehicles running into them. Some of
tbe cases are serious and demand the
removal of the injured persons to the
'hospital or tbelr homes. The great
majority of these accidents, crossing
'policemen declare, are due to what 1
vulgarly called "rubbernecking."
"Nine women out of ten who are
.hurt by street cars or vehicles drawn
by horses have only themselves to
blame," said an officer, who for sev
eral years had guarded a State street
(crossing. "I have seen dozens of wom
en injured down here In tbe retail dis
trict, aud I never saw oue who met
with an accident who was not 'rub-
(bernecklng.' For instance, a woman
will start to cross the street with an
armful of bundles. Half way over. In
the middle of the car tracks, she turns
around to look at a woman who has
passed her from the opjtoslto direction,
perhaps It was the woman's hat, or
the hang of her skirt Hint caused the
other woman V) stop and 'lake her
In.' At any rale she Mauds there like
a block of stone, ilcuf io the clang'ng
of llie enr bell and the shout- of the
people who see her danger. Finally,
after she has feasted her eyes on the
bat or skirt or whatever It was that
caught her fancy, she wnkos up and
llnds a street car or vehicle of some
kind bearing down on her. line Is con
fused, and doesn't know which way to
turn. The chance are 100 to 1 (but
she will step In front of the car or car
riage, If she has to run firs feet to do
It, nod then the arcbulante Is culled.
iKIie tells her husboad and everybody
else that tba motorman or grlpman, as
;
the case might be, tried to deliberate!)
run her down.
"The same is true of a great manj
men wbo are Injured down town. Twt
men out of Ave (that's the conserve
tive estimate) will turn around tet
times In walking one block to loek a
women who attract their notice. AnJ,
do you know, it's a habit with a wholi
lot of men. I know some of the most
respiH-table men In Chicago, who 1
every other way are model husbands,
who are victims of this habit of 'rub
bernecking.' If a woman attempted ti
flirt with tlietn they would take to th
woods, but they will turn around an
secretly admire some women they nev
er saw before and never expect to sei
aga i n." Chlea go Trlbu ne.
FOLLOWED THE RAILROAD.
Kaoliaoiler, Miuourl, Pulled Up and
Moved North.
The story of a Nebraska village,
Benton, on the Platte river, left high
and dry by the Union Pacific Hal I road,
which "shied off" In another direction,
has often been told. The Bentouitet
put their furniture, cattle, bouses and
barns on llatboats, unit floated down
to a location mur Hie railroad and re
built there. The New York Sun te!l
the story of another western town tail
ed KiiobnoMcr. which has done a slm,
liar thing twice.
For years before the Missouri Pa,
ciiic Itallroud was extended across tilt
State from St. Louis, Knoluioster win
a post village at which the stags
coaches used to stop for water for tueil
horses and food for their passengers,
Tbe civil engineers of tbe Missouri
Pacific finally entered the country, nuj
ran the line about two miles to tht
north of the town.
The old town waked up for the first
time iu its existence. Most of Ilia,
houses were put 011 wheels and moved
over to 1 lie new site.
Just about the tiuie the new Knolx
nostcr began to look like a town, tin
railroad authorities concluded to sbif
the projected line. They decided upon
a cut oil', which left the new town oi.
In the grass and the b.-izel brush. A
town site on the cut-off was laid oul
about two miles still fiirth-r lo tht
north. The railroad was constructed
anil a station erectiil.
The new tow n sulked for a while, hut
finally an old doctor moved over by
the station to a-t for tin- railroad rom
puny, ami his patients had to follow,
One by one the liou.-os, or most o(
them, Were moved over by the station
and rebuilt.
Iu a year the entire town had chang
ed Its location a w-i ond time, .nid wui
huddled about the railroad station,
where It has remained ever since. Bui
for a good many years the peoplt
watched the railroad with suspicion.
Upturned to Boost.
One of the theories of James B
Beynolds, the bead of the University
Settlement Society in New York, and
now Mayor Low's private secretary, It
that much of the drunkenness on tht)
part of poor and ignorn:it men Is .?aus
ed by the fact that their equally iot
and ignorant wives do not know how
to cook nourishing food properly, uu
that, exhausted by manual labor and
insufficiently nourished, thi-lr systems
naturally crave stimulants. One day
this theory came home to roost. Tht
husband of an Irishwoman had beaten
her unmercifully, says the New York
correspondent of the It-x hi-sti-r Demo
crat and Chronicle, and had been lock
ed tip for it. The morning after tha
wife approached Mr. Reynolds.
"Oh, sir." sin- said. In great distress,
"come and help me get my MlchueJ
out. Sure, I had 'Im locked up las!
night for beat In' me; but for the lovtj
of heaven come and help me get hln
out !"
Her face was badly banged up, bei
bead was bandaged, and she walkeij
with a limp.
"But you don't want to get him out
said the settlement worker. "He's nl'
most killed you. Leave him In. II
will do him good. I'll see that you
don't suffer fur lack of IiIh wages wblll
he's In prison."
"Oil, no," she said, "'twas all mj
fault. You told me it was bad cookln'
drove 'em to (he rum shops, and faith,
I cooked the praties In the seme old
way. of course lie got drunk. 'Twal
my own fault. I didn't cook 'em lij
the way I was told at toe settlement
and of course he got drunk."
What Ild she Mean?
They wen- at supper. Between the)
courses tbe young man with the vora
cious appetite discoursed 'eloquently
on Iblngs In general.
"Do you know, Miss Dash," be re
marked. "I think there is a very Inti
mate relation between our food and
our -1ih meter. 1 believe, don't yon
know, that we grow like what we are
the most fond of."
Tlie fair girl smiled sweetly.
"How Interesting!" she murmured.
"May I pass you Die hum, Mr. Jones I
I dm sure you will like it"
And the young man relapsed Into
deep thought lAndon Answern.
(Jot 1 he Worst of It,
A prominent Philadelphia clergyman
tells ibis story on himself: "It wai
U, .,!.. a, ,,,,.,i!!rr ,.ii,l T liti.1 Hlik4...1 ...
cliur 11. 1 ne lamiiy were preparing
to follow, when the youn-rest, a five-year-old.
protested, '1 do not want tc
go to church."
" I don't fee! much like It myself,
Fred, this morning.' replied his naatber,
'but we must go. Father baa to go-,
has gone already, aud ha has to
prench.
" 'Yes,' said Fred, um-onvlncad, 'but
we have to listen, and that's tssa ' -
Philadelphia, I-',ger.
Oil tiriml I'i't Wheat, '
An oil motor f.otu iudlaaafatai It
grinding v.li-ni on Mt, Lebaaata,