, FIFTY YEARS AFTER.
Oh. flay* of youth, of love and truth, of O'er the thirsty, win parched desert
Ir.bct In the mine. tolled those stalwart men and true.
Oh. vanished days In Time's dim haze— Beaconed by the Star of Umpire smiling
oh. days of Forty-Nine! downward from the blue.
How feeling burns as memory turns to Westward. Westward, ever Westward.
those dear scenes of old. till each hillside and ravine
When, pick In hand, a fearless band, we Opened to them as the heavens opened
roamed the West for gold! to the Florentine.
From the solemn, snow-covered Rookies, Long years have fled; those days are
from the hills of Santa Fe, dead; but still th*ir wealth is ours;
From the Colorado, leaping down Its cac- The golden grain on many n plain, the
tus-bordered way, orchards and the bowers.
To the poppy-glowing valleys by the bay The lowing herds, the bright-plumed
Saint Francis Blessed. birds, the homes of peaceful rest.
Every hill and dale bears witness of the That crown the soil won by the toil of
men who "went out West.” those who "went out West."
—Robert Mackay, in Success.
Cn the Waves of Chance.
! -
EY F. H. LANCASTER.
(Copyright. 1901. by Dally Story Pub Co V
The literary woman was playing the
oracle to the man of moans. He liked
her well enough. She was honest,
though she did have a penchant for
putting her thoughts into periods, j
They never agreed; but then it is
not always exhilarating to converse j
with people who say only jes ana
“why certainly.”
To-night the bone of contention was |
the self-made man.
"There isn't such a thing.” she de- j
dared. “Let me show you how this
self-manufacturing business appears
when you get it into a focus: We
really have not much say so about ;
what we are going to do ar.d what
we are not going to do. We arc wash- i
ed on shore by the waves of chance,
and because we were furnished before
hand with roots predetermined to
strike into the soil, and because the
soil happens to suit the roots, vie
stick where we are tossed, make a
goodly growth and cry out to all be- j
holders: 'See what I have done by
my lone self.’ If the soil docsn t .
happen to suit our roots, we shrivel ;
instead of flourishing: wo tap each ^
passerby on the shoulder and whisper
to him that this is the Lord’s doing.” i
He interrupted her with an impa- ‘
tient movement and the woman
laughed lazily.
“Not very flattering, en.
“It is not true.”
“Truo enough, and growing truer
every day. Take this terribly tor
mented question of matrimony. How
many men and women out of a hun
dred couples do you suppose sought
each other deliberately? They just
happened to meet and happened to
fall in love and happened to marry. If
the marriage turns out well, why, it
is their doing; if they drift into the
divorce court, the Lord g.'ts the
credit for the whole of it—‘Mysterious
Providence.’ ”
She laughed at his disgusted frown.
“You are like ail the other women
of to-day,” he remarked. “Even while
you stand before the altar you have
the divorce court in clear perspec
tive.”
"I am not standing before the altar,”
she cut In dryly, “and don’t expect to
be for one long, sweet while. What is
more; the women who are flocking
to the divorce court aren’t the women
of to-day. They are the women of
yesterday and last year. The sight of
our freedom has made them feel their
fetters.”
“Do you honestly believe that?”
“What?”
“That the unmarried woman has a
better showing in life than the mar
ried woman.”
“Eighty per cent of the divorce suits
are brought by women.”
“That proves nothing. Breach of
promise suiti are also brougnt by
women.”
The literary woman shrugged her
shoulders.
“It isn’t human nature to know |
when it is well off.”
“Then what about divorce?”
“Just so; better be a dog and sleep
on the door mat, than a divorced
woman. But you ami I know that
there are horribly unhappy married |
women—lots of them.”
“Tnero are unhappy women in all i
walks of life.”
“Granted. But when the weather
grows too foul for the single woman
To-ni6ht the bone of contention was
the self-made man.
Bhe can blow out her light. The
mother must live for her children.”
The man of means got up and kick
ed the smouldering log in gloomy ab
Bt ractic:.
“You claim In ail sincerity that the
self-supporting woman is the happiest
on the average?”
"You have said.”
“That even if she lovcil t.ie man
who loved her, a woman would be un
wise to marry?”
“Oh, if she loves him she had better
marry him. Not because it will be
the best thing for her, but because if
she doesn’t, she will go through life
convinced that sho has missed the
biggest thing In it. It she Is familiar
with that saying of George Eliot's
about the folly of expecting trees
lopped of their bravest branches in
youth to be anything but gnarled and
ugly in their old age, she will easily
grow to believe that she is more or
less mutilated and let herself grow
lopsided at her leisure. Self-pity is
a dangerous element to introduce into
any life, when an excuse for all forms
of self-indulgence and indolence
stands ready at our elbow. the
chances are a thousand to one that we
wli. be self-indulgent and indolent to
beat the band. And even though a
woman may be strong enough to go
on living a straight, honest life she
never Quite gets over a mishap of the
oeart. Don't you believe that?”
‘'No," he replied with a rough
laugh, “I hav seen too many women
recover from heart-breaks.”
“Or think that you have,” she sug
Looked down angrily into her smiling i
face.
gested. “I doubt if even your astute
ness can say what is in a sealed can
that is not labeled.”
“There is nothing of the sealed can ;
about a woman's heart." he said, and ;
there was a nasty slur in his tone i
that fired the literary woman’s blood.
"You know so much. Listen to this
from the pen of a woman who all
unite to call strong and contented,”
she took a written sheet from the
drawer and ran her eye over it search
ingly. "Here it is: ‘Perhaps it is in
me to do better work and more of it,
but I don’t know. Pate downed me
years ago and her grip is still on my
throat. Where I see others leap and
stand upright, there is for me only
spasmodic, ineffectual efforts to get
upon my feet. Still, living cn the
back is not such an uncomfortable
position and a grip never annoys un
less one struggles against it; and I
gave up struggling long ago.’ ”
Tho man of means turned upon
her eagerly.
"Who wrote that letter?”
“That s none of your business,” she
laughed, "are you satisfied as to your
skill-”
“1 insist on knowing who wrote that
letter.”
"Insist as much as you please.
Rtisiness ■women do not betray con
fidences.”
He stood up and looked down an
grily into her smiling face.
"If I told you that all my hopes of
now and hereafter depended upon see
ing that signature, would you show it
to me?”
"I am afraid I could scarcely credit
such a rash statement."
“Oh, you can believe it. It Is true
enough.”
He faced around and stared at the
fire. When he spoke again hl3 tones
betrayed Intense disgust.
"I would not give thirty cents for
the heart and soul of all the business
women in the world put together!"
"I didn’t kr.ow it was up for auc
; tlon, see commented.
He turned upon her savagely.
"Once more, will you tell rne who
wrote that letter?”
” ‘Onet, Bunsby will you scoot.’ ”
“Listen to me,” he thundered. “Sit
ting there in your inane imbecility
you are holding the happiness of two
lives-”
“I shall try to hold them tight,” she
murmured.
“You will not show me that signa
ture?”
"No.”
“Then I will go to her without see
ing it. Don't you suppose that I
know there is but one woman in the
world strong enough to pen such
words as those?”
The literary woman laughed as the
door banged viciously.
"And to think that it was one of
my own little creatures that wrote
them. Well, I dare say he and Lou
will make up that long-standing
squabble of theirs now that a wave
of chance has washed them together,”
and then as though she suddenly felt
the need of something strong, she
took up the paper at her elbow and
read again that bit of Rightor's: “A
man must sit on his own salt sack;
that’s the first duty. Then he must
walk in the path whereto the Fates
kick him; that’s Kismet. Then he
must gather all the red and blue bios
soms along the way. and hold hit
head high, and breathe da»p and
whistle at the stars and k rep away
from churchyards and laugh so mer
rily as he may; that’s cbe trfuiness.
For the rest, there is no man that may
walk against the high wavss of the
sea. nor gather thistle down in the
wind, nor plant cabbage in granite.”
DESERT INCITES TO POETRY.
Writer Discovers Beauty of a Sort In
Desolation.
I know a desertlike place that Is
not wholly a desert, yet it is neither
oasis nor fertile land, says Verner Z.
Reed in the August Atlantic. It is
what might be termed a semi-desert,
and it lias a mood that is different
from that of other deserts. It seems
a philosophic, well-contented sort of
place, that lias much knowledge, much
wisdom, and that extracts a wise en
joyment from the days that pass over
it. It is nearly related to a tall peak,
and is akin to a near-by range of
mountains, and to the air and the sky.
Flowers grow upon this semi-desert—
sunflowers, and bergamot, and blue
bells, and Mariposa lilies, and many
other shaggy little steps that bear blue
and yellow and white and seven-hued
blossoms. It knows sage-brush, too,
and yucca, and various pygmy cacti.
It is field and farm and native land
for many weii-cstablished, ancient and
wise nations of prairie dogs, and it
is the world and the fullness thereof
for thousands of republics of ants.
This semi-desert stretches away from
the mountains and runs its way in
billows towards the East. We know
it reaches to farms and towns and
work and trouble, and that its next of
kin. the prairie, goes on to the great
rivers whose banks are lined with the
covers of chattels, but we like to think
that, as a desert, it stretches away be
yond the horizon, and passes un
changed on to infinity, and across it is
the road to eternity, and endless
growth of soul and joy of effort and
consummation.
Old Home Week.
The children arc coming home again!
The old town stands at the door—
Homesick women an.l weary men.
She welcomes them all once more;
"The rooms are all furnished and drest
for you!
We have been saving the best for you!
The echoing hills have kept your name;
Meadow and woodland are still the same;
Lane and love-nook-nay, do not weep!
Nothing is changed that our love could
keep.'*
The children are coming home today—
Ay, children. If twice two-score!
Men and women with heads of gray.
But the old child's he-art once more;
Never a word of how bad you've been,
How far you've traveled, how sad you've
been!
Door and heart are alike flung wide;
The mother's cheek is aglow with pride;
The good you have done or have tried
to do—
These are the things she has heard of
you.
The children are coming home again—
Hark to the names we knew!
The dear old love-names—Will and Ben
And Mary and Dick and Sue!
Coming from half a world away,
(Glad to be far from the world away).
Men and women, they all coma back.
Over the dusty or grass-grown track;
An* we know why the Lord of the un
deflled
tsald heaven Is near to the heart of a
child.
—Anna Burnham Bryant in Boston
Transcript.
Warn Congressional Campaign.
The redistricting of Mississippi had
a curious result. Three Democratic
congressmen—Patrick Henry of Vicks
burg, John Sharp Williams of Yazoo,
and Charles Edv.ard Hooker of Jack
son—suddenly found themselves in the
same district. All three wanted to go
back to th° house; only one could.
Williams has won out in the primary
and remains in congress. Williams'
canvass is spoken of as one of the
greatest ever seen in Mississippi. The
last day of it found him in his shirt
sleeves in a reputedly hostile ward of
Jackson Breaking alternately in Eng
lish, German and French. His own
county went for him solidly and he
made surprising inroads in the coun
ties of his competitors.
A Grand Duke's Costume.
By all accounts Grand Duke Boris
was a spectacular feature of the
horse show in Newport the day he at
tended that function. The rather
kaleidoscopic costume of his royal
higness included a suit in large gray
plaids, a lemon-colored shirt, and sil
ver gray tie; tan shoes, a white and
tan belt, fastened by a showy gold
buckle, and a white straw hat trim
med with light blue. A jeweled snake,
curled in three glittering coils, form
ed his ring, and the much written
about bracelet was In evidence when
ever he gesticulated with his left
arm.
Good Move of Y. M. C. A.
The Young Men's Christian Asso
ciation of the Bowery, New York, has
leased a farm of 130 acres in New
Jersey. The farm is intended to
serve as a temporary home for men
who are awaiting employment. They
are not expected to remain there
longer than two weeks. While they
are working on the healthy upland the
extensive employment machinery of
the Y. M. C. A. Is working in their in
terests.
A Simple Explanation.
A man in public life noted for hb
brusqueness of speech was under in
formal discussion in cabinet circles.
“There’s one thing to bo said in his
favor, however," said Secretary Wil
son, "and that is he never importunes
the department to get promotions or
positions for his friends. “That’s read
ily explained," commented Secretary
Boot; “he hasn't any."
FAST MAIL TRAIN CROSSING THE
MISSOURI RIVER AT SIBLEY, IOWA
Directions in London.
In London and throughout, the
Ight iittle island the words “up" and
‘down” have a peculiar significance,
in going to London from any part of
England you go “up." In traveling in
any direction from the capital you
go “down.” So in London itself every
thing goes “up” if it goes in the direc
tion of the bank—that is, the Bank
of England—and going from that cen
ter toward any of the points of the
aompass is to go "down.”
The word bank, which is not only
always spelled with a capital “B,”
out is always uttered with an impres
siveness that suggests an initial let
ter of the largest type, may be said
:o be in a sense interchangeable with
city, a term of equal dignity and
value in the eyes of Englishmen, and
likewise invariably adorned with a
capital "C.”
The City does not mean London
by any means. It means a certain
limited section of London, the part
whore business is mainly carried on
and where the great financial institu
tions stand.
Sorr.a Resemblance.
It was a landlord and tenant rase
which was before Judge I.intott in the
second district court here, says a
Newark telegram to the New York
Press. The plaintiff, Bernard Ben
son, who says James Barnsman owes
him a month's rent, was on the stand.
“Did you ask him for the rent?" the
judge inquired.
“I did."
“What did he say?"
“He told me to go to h—”
“What did you do?”
“I came right down here to court,
your honor."
“Well,” remarked the judge, as
he mopped his forehead and glanced
at an electric fan which had ceased
fanning the judge's brow, “there may
be some points of resemblance.”
Chicago Men Not Gallant.
The lack of gallantry on the part of
Chicago’s men was never so forcibly
illustrated as in the case of sweet
Beulah Corley, who had the misfor
tune to lie found drunk in a doorway,
writes Roswell Field In the Chicago
Evening Post. When she was fined by
the judge, and had no money to save
her from the bridewell, she appealed
to the spectators, offering to marry
any man who would pay her fine and
save her from further disgrace. And
in this whole city there was none to
heed her cry. It is true that most men
would shrink from a hasty promise to
love and cherish a young woman w-ho
leaped into fame by decorating a door
way while in a condition of intoxica
tion, but we dare say the knights of
old would have responded chivalrously
to the invitation. Still, at the prevail
ing prices for meat nnd coal, Beulah
must not be surprised that gallantry
has its limits. We hope by this time
that the fine has been paid, without
the added incumbranre, and that she
will go and sin no more.
A Wealthy Pyromaniac.
Young Dennison H. Bell, a pyro
maniac confined in the Bloomingdalo
asylum, is one of the heirs to the mil
lions of his father, Dr. Christopher
H. Bell, who died recently in Ger
many. Bell rreated a sensation at
Newport two years ago by burning
down costly villas and cunningly con
cealing the origin of the fires. He
finally admitted he was tae firebug
and was placed under restraint after
his insanity was established. The
boy’s misfortune is believed to have
broken his father's heart, for after
the exposure the latter sold his
American property and moved to
Europe, where he lived in seclusion
until his death.
Assaulted on His Soft Side.
The young man stood before the
grim old captain of industry and look
ed him full in the face.
“Weil, sir," said Horatious J. Hard
rox, “you wished to see me, I be
lieve?”
“No, sir. I did not wish to see you.
I am not here because I wish to be,
but because it is necessary. You have
a daughter. I will not ask you to sac
rifice any of yutir valuable time in
listening to a catalogue of her
charms. You probably have noticed
most of them. I will come down to
business, sir, at once. She and I de
sire to merge our interests, and I
trust that. I have made no bull in hop
ing you may not take a bearish atti
tude toward the proposed combina
tion. "
"Trust—combination, bull and bear
—merge? All right. Take her. my
hoy. You seem to be one of us."
Renovating British Embassy.
Michael Herbert, the new British
minister to this country, is expected
to take a leading part in the social life
of Washington the coming winter.
The embassy is to be renovated and
modernised as to its interior. It
needs this work very badly, becauso
while ore of the most imposing resi
dences in Connecticut avenue, it is
also one of the stuffiest. It i3 under
stood that Mr. Herbert will come to
this country long enough to present
his credentials and then return to
England for a short time while the
embassy is in the hands of the arti
sans. It is expected that the embassy
durin gthe coming winter will be one
of the most brilliant places in Wash
ington official life, as Mrs. Herbert's
relatives in New York, the Vander
bilts, the Wilsons and the rest, will be
there during the season and there will
he much entertaining.
Finance in South America.
A story of the Colombian idea of
taxation is told by Peter MacQueen,
the Boston traveler, who returned to
this city last week, aft^r a visit to
the seat of the South American revo
lution.
“Some American friends of mine.”
said Mr. MacQueen, “were visited by
the eity officials of Colon.
“ ‘Senor,’ said the leader of the dele
gation, we have come to collect ?12
in gold from you, your share of the
cost of collecting the garbage for this
year.'
“ 'But. my dear sir,’ said the Ameri
can. in surprise, ‘you have not col
lected tiie garbage once during the
whole year.’
“ ‘That’s true,’ said the collector,
scratching his head; ‘well, let’s maka
it $6, then.’ ”—New York Times.
Truth may lie stranger than fiction,
but the average? liar makes a desper
ate effort to supply contrary proof.
DIFFICULTIES IN VENEZUELA
CARACAS TERMINAL OF THE GRAND RAILROAD OF VENEZUELA, IN WHICH GERMAN MONEY IS IN*
VESTED.
The nations of Europe, chiefly Ger
many and Great Britain, are evincing
Increased irritation over the conduct
cf Venezuelan internal affairs, and a
crisis seems approaching. The amount
of foreign capital Invested in the
South American republic is consider
able, anil the powers resent the in
terests of their subjects being placed
in Jeopardy by the constant turmoil
created by the frequent changes of
government. Our illustration shows
the Caracas terminal of the Grand
Railroad of Venezuela. In which much
German money is invested.