THE PAGEANTRY OF LIFE
Oh. dtos mils!*, mirth and madnesa,
Oh, the melancholy strife—
And t>.» sweetness and the sadness
And the glory and the gladness
In the pageantry cf Life.
Oh, the bitterness and burning,
Oh. the pathos and the pain—
Oh, the endlessness of yearning
And the shallowness of learning—
Oh, the throbbing of the brain!
Oh, the emptiness of seeming.
Oh, the hollowness of pride—
Oh, the vanity of scheming
And the idleness of dreaming—
And the misery beside 1
Oh. the beauty and the glory,
Oh, the majesty of age—
Passion cold and tresses hoary—
Oh. the sadness of the story,
l Oh, the turning of the page!
Oh. the glimmer of the candle.
Oh, the flickering of the flame—
Phantom gold which none may hanfile—
Weary foot anil broken scandal—
Oh, the worthlessness of Famel
Oh, the folly of regretting.
Oh, the glumor of the goal—
Oh. the fervor and the fretting
And the sweetness of forgetting—
Oh, the sorrows of the soul!
Oh, the loneliness and longing.
Oh, the laughter and the tears!
Oh. the dinging and the donging
And the grouping and the thronging
At the sepulcher of years!
Oh, the music and the madness.
Oh, the sweetness nr.il the strife—
And the sorrow and the sadueS3
And the glory and the gladness
In the pageantry of Life!
—Thomas Shelley Sutton.
Mr. Salsbury Jenkins' Idea.
BY WILLIAM A. OSBORNE.
(Copyright. 1902. bv Daily Story Pub. Co.)
Mr. Salsbury Jenkins stepped out
upon the hotel porch under the fire
of inquisitive glances with an easy
nonchalance of manner, which comes
only with long practice. He was the
latest arrival. He lit his cigar and
gazed with an indifferent curiosity
upon the crowd. Mr. Salsbury Jenk
ins was an observer—especially of
women, and he speedily made up his
mind that the girl in the pink dimity
at the cr.d of the piazza was the one
gill In the crowd. Having reached t.iis
conclusion he rested not until he had
been formally introduced — having
been formally introduced ho imp:o\ed
his opportunity.
A day or two later he sat on the
railing looking down upon the girl,
a3 she reclined in an easy caair.
She laid down a book, with a sigh.
"What do you think of it?" queried
Mr. Jenkins.
“Perfectly lovely,” returned the
girl. “Masterson, the hero, is such
a fine fellow—the kind of inan who s
strong and brave and risks his life
for women, and really accomplishes
things. I could fall in love with a
man like that. I'm tired of the rest—
the kind who talk all day about books
and the theater, the races and golf.
Masterson was so different ’’
Mr. Jenkins winced. For two days
he had held forth upon golf and the
races, the theater and boo'u. Still,
ho thought, complacently, or his man
ly appearance, and he considered that
ne would push Masterson, the book's
hero, close for second place. But
It was up to him now to make an im
pression—to prove his supremacy.
He preferred to eclipse Masterson
If possible. To this end he racked
bis brain.
And then—a sublime idea occurred
to him; the more he thought of it
the more he liked it—and as he con
templated it, he thought it must end
In but one way—with the girl's arms
around his neck, like the heroine s
about the neck of Masterson. This
idea was not entirely original—he had
read of it in Action; but it was, he
considered, without precedent in real
life. It was to place the girl in a
situation of apparent danger, from
which, without danger to himself, ho
would gloriously rescue her.
It was a great idea and Mr. Jenkins
worked it out.
“Well, mister,” said the tramp,
glancing doubtfully at Mr. Jenkins'
well-padded shoulder “I’ll tell you
how it is. I stood up once to have a
man knock me down for five dollars—
it was John L. wdiat did it. An’ he
broke me nose. I don't want no more
of it. I don’t want you to use me
rough.” Mr. Jenkins reassured hrira.
“Well, then. I’ll go you, mister.
I’m not much on scaring women, but
I s’pose 1 could do it on a pinch. All
right. I’ll go you. Only,” he added,
“don’t you use me rough, and don’t
you hit me on the beak.”
Next evening at sunset the girl set
out for her customary walk through
the glen. She always went alone. Mr.
Salsbury Jenkins had often offered
to go with her. but, although excep
tionally gracious to him at other
times, she had acknowledged his sug
gestion with a glance which, in an
other person, would have been a
-
■--__
‘ What do you think of it?” queried
Mr. Jenkins.
fltony glare. This time he did not of
fer. He watched her disappear In
the woodland path and then he fol
lowed her.
The glen was a wild and weird and
lonely place, especially after sun
down. Mr. Jeukins felt that keenly—
but he pressed on after the girl. Os
caalonally he caught glimpses of her
.—but finally he lost her.
Suddenly he heard a wild scream—
a woman’s scream—her scream. For
an Instant it froze his blood. Then
he braced tip and sprinted on ahead,
shouting as ho went—he, the deliv
erer—in a reassuring voice. He
reached the spot. The first thing he
saw was the girl—he caught sight of
her through an opening in the leaves.
She was standing near a tree, her
eyes opened wide with—Fright?—No,
with interest. She was gazing in
tently at some spectacle, Jenkins
knew not what. Her expression for
| an instant gave him pause. Then
he stepped forward, cautiously, rath
er than impetuously, as he had in
tended. As ho did so, ho heard fierce
imprecations in one voice, guttural en
treaties in another. And then lie saw !
that hia tramp was being beaten |
and pounded unmercifully by some
young giant, in the most approved i
I
‘‘Stop, mister! No, no, no! Not on
the beak!”
manner, tor awhile the tramp put
up a real or pretended resistance—
then he weakened.
‘ Don’t, don't, mister,” he pleaded.
“Ain’t yer got yer money’s worth!
Stop. Mister! No! no! no! not on the
beak!” he srreamed in agony. For
hi.3 opponent had planted a vigorous
blow upon that already fractured
number. He followed it by another
blow’ that sent the tramp sprawling.
The tramp, seizing his chance, scram
bled to his feet, and scampered
through the underbrush and out of
sight.
As he did so, the girl, with a cry,
sprang forward and threw herself into
the man’s arms, clinging closely
round his neck.
“Duncan—oh, Duncan!” she cried.
“Duncan, my preserver!” The man
held her close, ind bent down and
kissed her, not once, but many times.
As he did so, Jenkins saw his face,
and knew him. It was Kennedy—
Duncan Kennedy, a mining engineer,
a guest at the hotel.
For the moment Mr. Jenkins was
overcome. He sank upon the ground.
Yvhen he recovered his equilibrium
he found that they had disappeared |
but, hearing the sound of voices on i
I his right, he moved in that direction.
He came to a small opening. In
the middle of it was an old log.
On the log sat Kennedy and the
girl.
"Dear little girl,” the man was say
ing. “next time I’ll come with you, in
i stead of meeting you down here.”
j It was the trysting place.
“Darn ’em,” said Mr. Salsbury
: Jenkins to himself, “that's what's
brought her down here every night!”
He carefully retraced his steps.
*•»***••
“Can you tell me.” Inquired Mr.
: Salsbury Jenkins later, cf the hotel
j clerk, “what is the next train up to
| the city?”
The clerk looked up. “Six flfty
i five,” he replied. Then, seeing vrho
; it was. “But, my, you’re not going
i so soon? What's matter? Not
afraid of the girls?”
Mr. Salsbury Jenkins was not
afraid of the girls, no—but of tho
girl—that was a different matter.
And, then, too, ho was a bit ap
pr. hensive as regards the tramp.
"After ah,” sighed Mr. Salsbury
Jenkins, “New York's the place!”
“Duncan," said the girl to Ken
nedy, later, "do you mind, Duncan, If
sometimes I call you Masterson."
“Call me anything, my darling,” re
turned Kennedy. “I’ll come to you
when you call.”
Even Millionaires Turned Down.
James Dobson, a multimillionaire
carpet-maker of Philadelphia, v/as
“among those present” at a coal of
fice there the other day to make ap
plication for fuel. He stood in line
with a number of others and pleaded
for a carload, saying he needed it bad
ly at his factory. That was his sec
ond appeal, but ho was told to “call
again in the morning.”
Gossips are not to blame if one-half
the world doesn’t know bow the other
half lives.
WHEN SNAKES TAKE FLIGHT
Tramp of Hoofs of Cattle Sure to SsnP
Them Scurrying Away.
Occasionally a temperate man is
found who studies snakes, and one of
these is Gen. Milton Moore. The gen
eral reads everything he can find bear
ing upon the habits and habitats of
the snake society, and for that reas
on he was particularly interested in
meeting ex-Private Alexander M&hl
strom. Fifth Missouri, who recently
returned from South America.
"Mahlstrom told me." said Gen.
Moore yesterday, “that the snakes in
Central America are torpid and stuoid
to a degree, though some of them are
violent enough when disturbed. They
often bite the woodfellers there.
I never knew them to bite an
overland trailer. I crossed the
plains thirty years ago, and many
times since, in the freighting busi
ness. It was my experience that
the sound of the approach of cat
tle or buffalo sent the snake3 about
their business. We lay on the ground
where snakes were thick in our ab
sence. but scarce in our presence. A
snake must have some senso. and he
must reflect that whereas he might
put a lone man to flight, he had not a
ghost of a show with a herd of cattle
or buffalo tramping him. So he runs
when ho hears the caravans coming. I
never knew them to bite a man while
l was going over the trail. I recollect
at one time running across a rattler. I
was riding a mule. He woke up,
heard the hoof beats and started off.
A rattler cannot run straight much
better than a Swede turnip can roil
straight. Ho wobbles. This fellow
was terrified, for he took off. A quick
walk was as fast as he could go. I dis
mounted, pulled oot my cap and ball
revolver and began firing at him. The
first shot elipp°d him and made him
furious. He hissed and shook his tail
with a vengeance. But he heard my
mule and headed for tall grass. I think
it was my fifth shot that broke his
back. The snake is a coward."—Kan
sas City Journal.
Along the Way to Meetin*.
I wondered if the world so wide had
heard my heart a-breakln',
With Sally walkin’ at my side along the
way to meetin'?
It seemed to time my every step—jest
keepin' time accordin’,
An' sayin': "There's no rest for you
'cept t’other side of Jordan!’’
I'd tried an' tried to say "the word.”
with patlentest endeavor—
The Wiird that might, or mightn't, make
her heart my own forever;
But somehow, when it reached my lips.
it seemed too much to utter.
With my poor heart a-keepin’ up that
everlastin’ flutter.
’Twus shore my tribulation day—close by
my side to view her—
To pull the wild flowers by the way, an'
then not give ’em to her!
But, sudden come this word from her—
'twuz like a benediction:
“I’m thinkin'. John, this meetin' day
you're under deep conviction!"
An' then I up an' told her all my heart;
so sore afflicted;
I loved her more than all the world—
that's how 1 stood convicted;
An’ then, as close she come to me, with
sweeter looks and fonder,
I read my shinin’ titles clear to earth—
—Atlanta Constitution.
Demonstration Too Effective.
Two maiden sisters of mature years
had been to a temperance lecture. To
demonstrate the disastrous effect ol
alcohol upon life, the lecturer had
poured a portion of whisky Into a glass
which contained water and a mass
of lively animalculae of different un
sightly shapes and sizes. The result
of the mixture was that the shoals
of ugly looking fishes were soon be
reft of life and were seen floating
helplessly in the water.
On the way home, when nearing a
saloon one sister remarked to the
other:
"Mary, will you go in and get some
whisky?”
“Some whisky!” astonishingly re
marked the other.
“Yes, dear, for I really ran never
again drink water with all those hor
rible things floating about. I would
rather drink them dead than alive.”
Mr. Depew’s Oversight.
“Ia Mr. Depew in?” said a life in
surance agent, handing his card to
the office attendant.
"I’ll see, sir,” replied the minion,
going into the senator's sanctum.
Mr. Depew glanced at the card and
shook his head in the negative. Al
though the upper part of his body war
hidden from public view by his desk
the senator's legs were plainly visible
as he sat with his side toward the
desk.
“Mr. Depew is out,’ said the at
tendant.
“Well,” said the Insurance solicitor,
glancing through the half-opened
door, “I wish you would tell him when
he comes in that I think my company
would positively refuse to accept him
as a first class risk unless lie will
agree to always take his legs with him
when he goes out.”
—
True Success in Life.
There are scores of living men who !
might be mentioned who have at
tained to all that goes to make up
success as it is commonly estimated,
says the San Francisco Chronicle.
They have wealth, social and political
influence and popularity; they have
everything that heart can wish, and;
yet the man of the world of the aver- i
age sort would not for a moment ad
mit that his success Is to be com
pared with that of the man who ha*
lost everything yet has served his
country as a patriot, has made the
foundation of the state a little strong
er, the life of a common people a lit
tie sweeter and happier, has given te
his family and his friends an example
of unspotted rectitude, and in doing
these things has missed personal ad
vancement and pleasure.
-,•• • —.. ^
ST. JOSEPH RIVER, MICHIGAN.
—Photo by Eugene J. Hall, Chicago.
WHY IT DIDN’T SUIT HIM.
Too Much Water Did Not Appeal to
the Man From Maryland.
They were seated at a round table
•n the biggest room in the Maryland
rlub, the glasses in front of them
newly primed, the smoke from their
rigars curling upward, while they list
ened to the yarns of the man from
Arizona. He had told them stories
pf hunting, of mining, of train rob
oeries and the like, and now he was
lolding forth on the wonders of Irri
gation.
“No one,’’ said he, “can properly ap
preciate the w-onders it has worked
n the central part of our state, where
he desert has been literal y made to
blossom as the rose.’ More than
125,000 acres in the Salt river valley
ilone now bloom with palms, alfalfa.
:rees, orange groves and other foll
ige, while grass and growing crops of
;rain, vegetables and the like cover
ihe fields where a few years ago not
i vestige of green was to he seen on
the burning sand of the great desert.
“Three large cities, one the capital
•if the state, have sprung up; two rail
roads have been built into the district
to carry away the surplus product,
and $30,000,00 has been added to the
wealth of this great country of ours.
All this has been accomplished by ir
rigation, by bringing water in ditches
and distributing it where it will do
the most good.
"To accomplish this we have ex
pended $3,000,000 and dug hundreds
p£ miles of ditches. There is much
yet to be done, however, in our neigh
borhood, it being estimated that no
less than 400,000 acres await recima
;ion in that immediate vicinity.
“The venture has proved immensely
profitable, too, and our farmers are
perhaps the most prosperous in the
world. I know of no better place In
this country for capital seeking in
vestment." And he paused to note
‘.he effect of his suggestion.
"That’s sholy Interestin’—mighty
interestin’,” mused the Eastern Shore
man, as he tossed off the contents of
his glass, “but I cain’t say that I’d
cyah to live in a country, suh, whnr
watah is regyarded as the mainstay
of existunce."—New York Tribune.
Result of Expansion.
It is not to be denied that this ex
pansion of our knowledge of the
world is a sequence of our victories
in the Spanish war. Whether trade
follows the flag, certainly knowledge
does. What the geography is doing
for the schoolboy, the newspapers and
magazines are doing for the adult.
"Nature will be reported,” says Em
erson, and certainly never was this
so true as to-day. A hundred agencies
—mainly commerce, invention, travel,
j benevolence and disaster—are conspir
ing to bring In touch all the nations of
the world and to demand the fullest
knowledge of all by earh. There are
those who think that this absorbing
Interest In the actualities of material
events Is being cultivated at the ex
pense of great creative art. But an
epoch of large wealth has been usually
the precursor of a period of great art.
When this period comes, perhaps the
result will be all the more significant
and valuable that the peoples of the
earth will have reached a sympathet
ic understanding through the widest
knowledge.—Century Magazine.
Morgue Keeper a Humorist.
One of the queerest of French au
thors. Clovis Pierre, died this week.
He was a poet whose talent would
have received recognition doubtless
even If the contrast between his vo
cation and his avocation had not
tickled the fancy of the Parisians. He
lived and wrote his poetry at the
morgue, of which he was registrar.
He was a merry soul who found most
of his inspiration in the corpses in
his rare and who used to describe
himself as the manager of a big hotel
well known to Paris, which was a
quiet place of rest for travelers from
all countries. He dwelt at the morgue
for thirty-two years before he retired
on a pension.
Poetry may bring returns—if a
stamp is inclosed with it.
THEY WOULD NOT RETREAT.
Horse Battery Kept on Firing Al
though Constructively Dead.
Among the amusing features of the
recent mimic war one incident is re
counted by Adjt. Gen. Thomas Harry,
chief of staff, as one of tho most un
usual conflicts in the history of war.
Among the points defended by tho
army was a signal station on Montauk
Point. Here was stationed a horse
battery, intended to cover the signal
corps and also to be able to withdraw
in ease of serious attack. This latter
duty was not fully comprehended by
the gallant artillerymen. According
ly, when the Kearsarge, tho Alabama,
the Brooklyn, the Olympia and all the
other big ships of the fleet sailed up
and opened their batteries on the sig
nal station, bringing into play every
gun, from the 13-inch to the rapid-fire
ones, the defenders of the shore dis
played no Intention of retreat.
Wheeling their two small cannon
Into point blank range, they returned
the fire of the combined fleet. Faster
and faster came the shots of the
horse artillery. Theoretically they
were annihilated; practically, they
were only spurred to still greater ac
tivity. Not until the umpires signal
ed them to stop firing, and later in
formed them that they were all dead,
did the brave gunners pause. Not
since the day of the Matanzas mule
has so unequal a fight been waged so
successfully.
A Grewsome Coincidence.
Few In the musical world forget the
shock caused a few years hack by the
tragic death of the famous contralto,
Mme. Patey. The vocalist had created
an immense success at a concert in
the provinces, and in response to a
vociferous encore returned to the plat
form and sang the pathetic Scottish
ballad of “The Banks of Allan Water.’’
Mme. Patey gave the last line—“There
a corse lay she”—with thrilling ex
pression, walked from the platform,
and straightway fell dead! The grew
some coincidence was much comment
ed on at the time.
A^VS^VVVVVVSAAAAtA^VVV'SAAAAA^
| GREAT BRITAIN'S FORTS IN WESTERN WATERS.
' * .
Great Britain's latest augmentation
of her already strong West Indian for
tifications indicates her purpose to re
tain the full strategic advantage
which their situation gives to her pos
sessions in the Caribbean sea or bor
dering upon it. Her present effort in
carrying out this policy is the crea
tion of two entirely new batteries de
fending the approach to Port Royal,
the naval station on the Island of Ja
maica.
In Kingston harbor Jamaica pos
seasec one of the best harbors in the
West Indies. It is practically land
locked and capable of sheltering as
large a fleet as Great Britain will ever
ue able to spare for service in that
part of the world. The harbor Is long
and narrow, the southern shore being
formed by a narrow sand spit, which
approaches the western shore to with
in a distance about equal to the Nar
rows.
On the harbor side of the point of
the sand spit and opposite the city of
Kingston, the naval station is located.
There are already four forts command
ing the entrance. One is situated od
the point close by the naval station,
the zone of its fire covering the chan
nel which must he used by all ves
sels approaching the harbor from the
eastward.
The newest of the present batteries
is on the opposite side of the entrance 'i
and so located that its guns enfilade
the channel. The other two forts com
*nand the harbor proper.