Homesick,
I want to go hack to tU* orchard—
Tho orchard that used to be mine;
The apples are reddening and Ailing
The air with their wine.
I want to wake up in the morning
To the chirp of the birds In the eaves;
I want the west wind through the corn
fields—
Tho rustle of the leaves.
I want the old song of the river.
The little, low laugh of the rltls:
I want the warm blue of September
Again on the hills.
I want to lie down In the woodland.
Where the feathery clematis shines,
God's blue sky above, and about me
The peace of the pines.
I want to run on through the pasturs
And let down the dusty old bars;
I want to find you there still waiting.
Your eyes like twin stars.
O nights, you are wreary and dreary.
And. days, there is something you lack,
To the farm in the little, old valley
I want to go back.
—Alice E. Allen in Lippincott's.
>
(
THE GLARE OF THE FOOTLIGHTS
By ELMER BERNARD.
(Copyright, 19C2, by Dailt Stout Pcblishing Compast )
"So begone dull care,
Return to your lair.
For the world Is bright and gay;
And life Is too brief
To entertain grief;
So let Joy rule night and day."
An.l with a knowing wink, a sug
gestive smirk and a wicked twirl of
that nimble toe the singer swung him
self into the tvings amid a hurricane
of applause. There was no song and
dance man on the vaudeville stage
who set the people so wild as Billy
Pepsin and many times did he have
to come back and repeat the refrain of
his latest song before the audience
would permit the next act to be put
on. The song seemed particularly to
fit the singer. Of all the light hearted
apostles of careless gaiety, Biliy Pep
sin was easily the most single hearted
and the great audience which sought
the theaters where he performed fair
ly reveled in his reckless merriment
and thorough abandon.
And on this night even more than
usual he threw himself Into the very
spirit of his part and with the new
6ong which was as foolish as it was
adaptable to Billy’s peculiar atmos
phere, he sent the audience fairly in
to hysterics. They applauded until
they were tired from the very physical
exercise and agreed to a man that
there never had been anything so
funny since the dawn of time and
that such a stunt could come only
from a man who knew no care and
never had no more serious responsi
bility than to ascertain how he could
get a light for his cigarette.
Ah, could that wildly cheering and
laughter-convulsed crowd have stepped
Into Giacomo's Place an hour after the
performance closed they would have
seen a very different side of the pic
ture. Giacomo (last name forever
lost to history), was a smart littl«
Italian possessed of Indefatigable per
sistence and a wife who could cook
with that divine touch which is given
only now and then to the daughters of
Eve. It was a shabby little place off
an alley, never too clean and almost
Impassable in wet weather. Almost, I
say advisedly, because it never was
impassable to the stage people of the
middle type who formed the principal
support of Giacomo. This partly be
cause the cooking and the wines were
so good—and cheap, for your actor of
any class knows what is good and
wants it. and perforce his purse
Btrings forbid Sherry’s or Rector's as
a steady diet. And then the place
was always open—at least until the
last straggler was ready to retire. The
lights never went out before dawn
and many a morn did Giacomo doze
behind the little bar and hi3 fat wife
in a chair in the cramped kitchen un
til full time to open again for Hie
day’s business.
Of course the actors did not make
up the whole of the patronage of
Giacomo’s Place. Many of the coun
trymen of the proprietor, of the
more prosperous class, found their
way there and reveled in the spaghetti
md the pure wine of the land of their
inilvlty, also, during the still watches
af the night did many newspaper men
through with their protracted grind,
pick their way through the grimy al
ley for their early morning repast.
And the place was not without a cer
tain reputation to the more prosperous
portion of mankind and often came
parties, with a keen desire to behold
Bohemia—parties who looked not ac
the prices on the bill of fare at ail
but dined and wined and went back
into society.
Well, on the night of which we
spoke in opening this sketch an hour
after the performance closed at the
Lyceum, any one strolling into Gia
como's might have seen nearly the en
tire party of actors and actresses who
had entertained them so hilariously,
eating and drinking and quarreling
and gossiping before the bar or at the
unclothed tables.
And apart from all at an obscure lit
tle tablo in a corner sat the one of all
the troupe who had inspired the great
est laughter and displayed the great
est abandon—Hilly Pepsin. His face
was heavy with gloom and the expres
1
- I
"Billy,” she said, softly, her voice
trembling.
sive eyes which had Hashed so signi
ficantly and do wickedly at the
audience were dull and introspective.
He was eating his chops alone and
moodily washing them down from a
mug of ale at his elbow. He paid no
attention to the sallies of the others
who now and then sought to arouse
him from the cloud that seemed to
I envelop him, but sat on alone puffing
his pipe after his simple repast was
I finished. And so he had sat and so
i acted for many months—months which
j had now grown into years, as was re
called by Alphonse Ginaud, who did
the wonderful acrobatic act, and who
j had been associated with Billy for
many years off and on.
[ "Too bad, ain’t it,” said he tossing
j a finger toward the solitary figure,
"I’d like to see a woman who could do
it to me. He never has smiled oft
the stage since Sally left him, I’ll bet
the drinks. Anyway, I never saw
him.”
"What’s the story?” inquired a
stranger in dress suit who was doing
the town and had drifted into Gia
como’s Place with his party, as he
ordered drinks for all at the bar.
Alphonse feeling the importance of
the situation, sipped his wine thought
fully and replied:
“Weil I guess there’s no harm in it;
everybody knows—and there ain’t
much to it, anyway. Billy Pepsin, the
funniest man in the biz, got dead
stuck on a little soubrette, Sally Wat
ers, and married her. She was a pret
ty little piece and fresh from the
country. Well, sir, you never saw such
lolly-gagging as happened for a year
or too. Billy was clean daft and when
the little girl came we all thought he
would go bug-house. They fixed up a
little flat and Billy refused all offers
to go out of town—preferred to take
half as much and be home.
“Well, you know the ways of wom
en—she tired of it and skipped out one
day with a Jew manager, who had al
ways had a roll as big as your leg
and wore diamonds that put your eyes
out. That's all there is to it only that
Billy has never been known to smile
since. He’s got the kid in an expen
sive school and is saving every cent
ho lays hold of—so she won’t have to
be an actress, he says. Had a chance
to kill the Jew once, but didn’t raise
his hand. Said ho reckoned Sally
knew best what she wanted. Too bad
—spoiling of the best fellow that ever
happened. My, but how it would sur
prise the guys who laugh at him every
night to get a glimpse of that mug
off the stage.”
The glasses rattled and jingled and
, the conversation passed to pleasanter
themes. While the jollity was at the
heighth the door opened aud a
slip of a woman sidled in. She was
soantily clad and shivering from the
dampness of the drizzling rain cut
side. Unnoticed she glanced about and
timidly made her way across the room
to the corner where Billy sat.
'‘She'll find little game there,” care
lessly remarked one of the party at
the bar.
At his elbow Bhe reached out a
shaking hand and touched the actor
on the shoulder.
“Billy,” she said softly, her voice
trembling.
At the sound of the voice the man
leaped to his feet as though shocked
with a battery. Before he could speak
she resumed:
“Please, Billy, don’t hurt me—I am
so cold and weak. I won’t bother you
much. I don’t ask for forgiveness.
Only I Just had to see you once more
before—before—the end,” and she
flung her hand in the direction of the
river. “And Billy, please, please, I
want to sec little Sally once more.
Take mo to her. I won’t speak to hor.
Just let me look at her in her sleep—
and kiss her. She needn’t know. I—I
am so cold and lonesome and I’ve suf
fered so much—and I’m going out
there into the blackness—all alone—
and I’m afraid—and so wicked—it
seems to me it would be easier if i
could see her—and if you could toll
me that you forgive me, Billy. I know
I don't deserve it, but—”
She got no further. The man who
had been standing as in a trance had
gathered her in his arms.
“And you’re coming back to us, Sal
ly—of your own free will—that’s it,
Sally?” And he held his breath as
he awaited her answer.
“Oh, Billy, I aint fit. I have been
so wicked. But I want to; oh, how I
want to, Billy and I will try and make
so far as 1 can.”
Thn lnnlrtr flrvtIWA c
t ro t rrli tnnnrl tin
and there was a smile on his face,
such as it is seldom given mortals to
see. He held her close to him regard
less of the stares of the onlookers.
“We’ll go back to the flat. I have
kept it all these years just as it was.
I knew you'd come back. And to
morrow we will send for the ldd—
and, by jove, to-night we'll have one
of those rarebits you used to make,
won’t we Sally?
And they passed through the door
and the darkness outside seemed il
lumined.
“Well, I'll be d—d,” remarked Al
phonse, breaking a long silence of the
entire party, and everybody laughed
hysterically—whereas, there was no
call at all to laugh. And Giacomo for
the first and last time in the history
of the place said:
“Evera boda coma up and have a
drinka on the house.”
And everybody did.
The Man Who Clipped.
I saw him take the paper, and
Turn to the Household Page,
Then scan the columns up and down,
As one who all would gauge.
“Aha!" he muttered to himself,
''Here’s 'How to Make Rice Fritters.'
And How to Utilize Cold Beef,’
And 'Home-made Stomach Bitters.' ’’
Then from his pocket forth he took
A pair of scissors, small.
And severed from the printed page
The helpful hints and all.
He clipped “The Way to Scramble Kggs,"
And "How to Make Peach Butter,"
As well as half a dozen more,
“That's all”—again his mutter.
“A thoughtful man,” at once I mused.
‘‘A man who cares for tnings;
Who loves the calm, contented song
The home teakettle sing3."
“Do you,” I asked, “preserve those notes
“So that your wife may eye them?”
"Not much,” ho growled, ”1 cut them out
So she won’t get to try them."
His Witticism Was Costly.
Magistrate Brann is an Irishman,
and intensely proud of his lineage. It
is one point upon which it is not safe
to chaff him. Recently a number of
boys who had been arrested for some
petty offense were taken before his
honor. Among them was one whose
speech and general appearance
stamped him as Italian. Somebody
had told the boy to give an Irish name
and tell his honor he was Irish.
The magistrate questioned the boys
until he came to the youn°; Italian.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Mickey da Casey,” replied the
youngster, amid a roar of laughter.
“I’m Irish."
“Oh, It’s Irish you are, are you?"
smilingly replied his honor. “Well, so
am I, and I’ll just fine you $10 for in
sulting an honorable race.—New York
Times.
Made Friends With Menelek.
William Fitzhugh Whitehouse, who
went with Lord Hindlip on an ex
ploration trip to the Upper Nile, has
returned to New York. He was ac
companied by his father, Fitzhugh
Whitehouse. W’hen in Absynnia Mr.
Whitehouse and Lord Hindlip were
detained three days as prisoners, as
the local officials refused to recognize
Emperor Menelek’s letter. When their
lelease had been obtained the em
peror invited the travelers to Adis
Abeda, treated them with great con
diality and permitted them to shoot
over his private preserves, to which
no white man had previously been ad
mitted The emperor also entertained
them «. a banquet.
“Editress” Complimented.
There has been no deterioration in
the Emporia Gazetto since William
Allen White went to Idaho and left
Mrs. White to get out the paper.—
Kansas City Star.
Best Methods of Cooking.
Boiling meat is less wasteful than
baking and baking less wasteful than
roasting.
c*+*K'*+*******+*****4-***++***-<•*+*+*+++*+++*-M*++<l>++*'
Speedway Sights on Sunday
^ . A Great Free Show Weekly for +
£ New York People, +
+■++■*••*+++**++*+*++++++-m++++<-y+-ff^*+*v+++++++++++++++£
Imperial Rome gave its populaco bread and circuses; New York town,
more than imperial, as yet provides only the circuses. Dut it is a question
if Rome ever spent as much upon its amphitheaters as New York has put
into the Speedway and its approaches.
Certainly the Speedway at its best helps to put one in love with life and
things. For instance, on a fine autumn Sunday morning, when blotches ol
red and yellow have sown themselves lightly through the overhanging foliage
of Washington Heights. High Bridge and Washington Bridge, springing alertlj
from the bold ramp of the heights, span the green, clear breadth of the valle>
and etch themselves on the wind-blown hue of the sky.
At least half the onlookers are women, tricked out in holiday bravery
Children likewise abound, the most part in gay coats, some few in somlpet
black ones. But even the black coats have redeeming fripperies of lace anc
color in head and ueckgear.
' ">
WATCHING THE TROTTERS.
Momently some star of the Speedway flashes down the line. Murmurs
go all about.
“Nathan Straus has Cobwebs out this morning. Pshaw! I was sure he’d
drive Alves instead.”
"There comes Claus Bohling! Now look out. somebody. He told my cousin's
uncle yesterday he had the heels of everything likely to show to-day!”
"Albert Bostwick's trainer has got knee boots on Johnnie Again. Yes
Bostwick is automobile crazy. Still he has not quite given up horses." •
A lean, brownish bay. with fair head, good legs and light middle piece
flashes past. One spectator grtns at the sight. Faying Fagely:
"David B. looks as though he'd run jest about to match his namesake this
morning."
Instantly somebody retorts: "Wait till you see hir«i finish! It’s my beliel
he's never been quite all out here—no more than the man he’s named for."
"Maybe so," says a judicial third person, "but, say, did you hear about old
Cobwebs? One day awhile back Straus got two friends to hold watches on
the old fellow while he stepped a quarter after he got going for all he was
worth, and he made it in 29 seconds flat. What do you think of that? A 1:56
gait for a horse 13 years old—and a faster quarter than ever Cresceus ever
trotted in a race.”
"He’s a wonder—no mistake," say the onlookers; then huddle to the
curb, saying all together in a breath: “And here he comes now! Hurrah! He’s
having it out with Dave Lamar and Sally Simpson."
Down course two little dust clouds have resolved themseles into flying
harnessed racers, with drivers sitting low and close behind. The wagons
look cobwebby—hardly stout enough to endure the impact of rapid air. But
nobody thinks of that; all hang breathless on the race.
The man in front has a strong face, bearded, shrewd-eyed, kindly. The lips
are set, the eyes tense, the whole pose full of power. The whip is held upright,
the reins tightly clutched; now and again he speaks a low word, too low to
he heard by the sidewalk throng, though evidently reaching the ears of his
horse.
Cobwebs may know intuitively what his master asks. He goes, goes, with
the mighty stroke of a machine. His stride is low, his ears are flat against
his beautiful chestnut head, his eyeballs flare, but not with temper—he lias
the stay and the spirit which, joined with speed, make the horse which does
or dies.
On, on. he thunders, his head nodding the least bit in fine, faultless
rhythm, his quickening hoof heats sounding a march of triumph as his white
nose go03 past the post half a length to the good.
The battle is not won. Dave Lamar wheels as soon as he can pull up,
asks a question mainly with his eyes, is answered with a nod, then, almost
wing and wing, the pair race away to the back stretch, and again set sail.
This time the mare lies at Cobweb’s wheel—in the first brush she fought
for each foot of the way. She is a bay, big and shiny, in the very pink of con
dition, a credit alike to her trainer and her sire, the world-famous Electioneer.
She goes high, so high it almost seems she scorns the earth, but her
reaching plunges devour space. A casual onlooker would say the horse went
ten yards to her nine, and covered ground with much more ease to himself.
But do what he will, stretch, strain, quicken, he cannot shake her off. She
hangs like a bulldog till fifty yards from the wire; then the man in the white
hat, who has been sitting statue-like, leans far forward, swishes his whip
mightily, calls in shrill, whistling tones, lets out the least bit of a wrap, and
the race is over—Cobwebs has lost, though by a narrow margin.
A third heat is, of course, inevitable. People forget to gossip, and stand
still, save when they crowd for better seeing places.
This time the flyers come in view neck and neck, each doing a desperate
Ixist from start to finish. How the big, gallant chestnut strains! His motion is
r -
THE SEEEDWAY.
bo swift no eye can follow It; the sulky wheels show only as motionless, shin
leg rims magically impelled along the course.
And gamely the bay mare keeps at his throat latch, lurching so high she
seems to be fencing all the way. Neck and neck, stride and stride, they k*-?p
It up until the very last; but tho bay will not be denied; she gets her nose
in front by at least six inches.
Not a few horse owners have stables close at hand. E. H. Harriman, who
owns the famous John It. Gentry, for example, has, right at the Speedway
gates, what is said to be the best appointed stable of harness horses anywhere
in the world. A dozen others might be named.
Indeed, no man can hope for fame upon the Speedway without a consid
erable string which includes both blood and speed. A few of them keep only
trotters; the most part have at least one pacer, and in not a few instanees
the pacers are the true stars.
Possibly the most picturesque and certainly the most interesting Speedway
personality is Frank Work, the sole survivor of the old-time road brigade that
included Robert Bonner, W. H. Vanderbilt and their compeers. Although living
as far down as Madison Square, Mr. Work keeps five flyers—Peter Stirling.
Mahalla, Pilot Boy, Merle fc'oore and Sea Girl.—Martha McCulloch-Wll
Uatns in New York Sun.
THE TEST OF TIME.
Mrs. Clarq J. Sherbourne, profes
sional nurse, of 257 Cmnberlar
street, Portland. Maine, says:
“I heartily wish those who suffer
from some disturbed action of the kid
neys would try Doan’s Kidney Pills.
They would, like me, he more than
surprised. My back annoyed me for
years. Physicians who diagnosed my
case said it arose from my kidneys.
When the grip was epidemic I was
worn out with constant nursing, and
when l contracted it myself it left me
in a very serious condition. I could
not straighten nor do the most trivial
act without being in torture. The kid
neys were too active or the secretlona
were too copious, and I knew what
was wrong, hut how to right it was a
mystery. It seems odd for t. profes
sional nurse, who has had a great deal
of experience with medicines, to read
advertisements about Doan's Kidney
Pills in the newspapers, and it may
appear more singular for mo to go to
H. II. Hay & Son's drug store for a
box. Dut 1 did, however; and had
anybody told me before that it was
possible to get relief as quickly as I
did I would have been loth to believe
it. You can send anyone who wishes
mere minute particulars about my
case to me, and 1 will be only too glad
to tell them personally. As long as
I live I will be a firm advocate of
Doan's Kidney Pills.”
Cure Confirmed—5 Years Later.
"Lapse of time has strengthened my
good opinion of Doan’s Kidney Pills,
first expressed in the spring of 1896. I
said then that had anybody told me
that it was possible to get relief as
quickly as I did 1 would havo been loth
to bellevo It. Years havo passed and
my continued freedom from kidney
complaint has strengthened my opin
ion of Doan's Kidney Pills and given
me a much higher appreciation of
their merits.”
A FREE TRIAL of this great kid
ney medicine which cured Mrs. Sher
bourne will be mailed on application
to any part of the United States. Ad
dress Foster-Milburn Co., Buffalo,
N. Y. For sale by all druggists. Price
60 cents per box.
“Light Refreshments Were Served.”
At the feast following the funeral of
a centenarian at Vamoshrara, Hun
gary, the guests at? two oxen, two pigs,
seven lambs and a ton of cakes, w*ila
tho liquor consumed included 400 gal
lons of wine, six barrels of beer and
thirty gallons of brandy.
There is more Catarrh in this section of the
Country than all other diseases put together,
and until the last few years was supposed to be
incurable. For a great many years doctors prof
Bounced It a local disease, and prescribed local
remedies, and by constantly failing to cure
with local treatment, pronounced It Incurable?
Science has proven catarrh to be a constitu
tional disease, and therefore requires consti
tutional treatment. Hall's < atarrh Cure, man
ufactured by F. J. Cheney <fc Co.. Toledo. Ohio,
ts the only constitutional euro on the market)
It Is taken internally in doses from 10 drops b*
a teaspoonful. It acts directly upon the hloo<*
snd mucous surfaces of the system. They offer
ane hundred dollars for any case it fails tocure.
Send for circulars an.' testimonials. Address
F. J. CHENEY & CO., Toledo, Ohio.
Sold by Druggists, 75c.
Hulls Family Fills are the best.
A man may do worse than read po
etry. He may attempt to write it.
Iowa Farms $4 Per Acre Cach,
nslaace H crop till paid. MU 1.11 ALL, Sioux City, la.'
Avarice is always poor, out poor by
its own fault.
i
THOSE WHO HAVE THIRD IT
will use no other Defiance Cold Water
Starch hns no equal in Quantity or Qual
ity—If! oz for lo cents, otner brands
contain only U oz.
Justice bolds equal scales for out
siders as well for insiders.
Mrs, Wluslows simttitnit Syrna
For children teething, ►•iftcn* tno ixutns, reduce* !n«
iaimnatlou, ajlayn j#alu. curt*# wiud colic. Ujcaboltifl*
A man of high berth is one who oc
cupies an “upper” in a sleeping car.
The little folks love Dr. "Wood's Worwsy
Pine Syrup. Pleasant to take, perfectly
aarmless. 1’ositive euro for coughs, colds,
bronchitis, asthma.
Men are not nearly so wise as wo
men let them think they are.
INSIST O.N t.ETTINO IT.
Borne grocers say they don't keep De
ll h nee Starch because they have a stock
in hand of 12 >z brands, which they know
cannot be sold to a customer who has
once used the 16 oz. pkg. Detinue* Starch
for same money.
“The laborer is worthy of his hire,”
but unfortunately worthiness Is not
always a winner.
IF YOU USE 1UI.L HI.UE,
Get Red Cross Ball Bluo, the best Ball Bias.
Large - oz. package only 5 cents.
Women don't Idealize men, for they
never have a chance to.
To Ctiro a C7ol«l In One day.
Take Laxative Bromo Quinlno Tablets. All
druggists refund money if it fails to cure. 25c.
The gangway seems to bo the path
that leads to political glory.
Moth** Oray*s Sweet Powders for Children
Successfully used by Mother Gray, nurse
In the Children's Home in New York. Cures
Feverishness, Bad Stomach, Teething Dis
orders, move and regulate the Bowels and
Destroy Worms. Over 3D,000 testimonials.
At all druggists, 25c. Sample FREK. Ad
dress Allen S. Olmsted. LeKoy, N. Y.
No one wants to put out the female
who is ablazo with diamonds.
You can do your dyeing In half an
hour with PUTNAM FADELESS
DYES.
If a man is a failure he la sure It Is
some woman’s fault.
Superior quality and extra quantity
must win. This Is why Doflanco Starch
is taking the place of all others.
Dress does not make the woman,
but it often breaks the husband.
A household necessity. Dr. Thomas’ Eo
lectrio Oil. Honls burns, cuts, wounds of
any sort; cures sore throat, croup, catarrh,
asthma; never fails.
If all men were wise all women ~
would be sensible. "*T
Try me just once ana I am sure to
come again. Defiance Starch.
