Dy FREDERICK
upham Adams
I Author of *'The Kidnapped Millionaires,’ “Colonel Monroe's Doctrine,- Etc.
I COiPTBlCHT, 1903, BY
iJtolMgyjJttUH ADAMS
All rights
reserved
< C0PYBIQ8T, 1902. BT
A. J. PK1SIL BlDDbl
CHAPTER EIGHT—Continued.
■When the launch approached, Ar
thur ’Morris was seen in the bow.
There were several richly dressed
yP4Pg women in the party. John Burt
saw at a glance that Morris and some
of his companions were under the in
fluence of liquor. Jessie guessed as
much, and her suspicions became a
certainty when Morris stepped un- j
steadily to the landing and came
toward her, a vacant smile mantling
his face.
“A thousand pardons. Miss Carden.”
he said, his voice husky and his body
very erect, but wavering. “A thou
sand pardons! Detention unavoidable,
assure you—un’vold’ble detention, as
sure you! ’Sail right, though; ’sail
right now. Allow me. Miss Carden."
and he stepped forward to offer his
arm. John Burt remained by Jessie's
side.
“Do not dare to speak to me, sir!"
cried Jessie, shame and anger driving
the crimson to her face. "Don’t let
him come near me> John!” she ex
claimed, clinging to Burt's stalwart
arm.
“Stand back, Morris!" said John in
a low, clear tone, a glitter in his dark
gray eyes. “You are in no condition,
sir, to meet Miss Carden."
K- r " -V
The flashily-dressed throng of
guests was grouped behind. Arthur
Morris. One of the young women
grasped Arthur Morris by the lapel
of the coat.
“Come on. you fool!” she said with
a vindictive little laugh. “Don’t you
see you're not wanted?” She turned
him half round and Kingsley grabbed
him by the- arm.
“Come along, commodore." said that
young blood. "You are in the wrong
pew, commodore! Cheer up. sad sea
dog; we may be happy yet!” And with
laughter and taunts the guests of the
Voltaire led the yacht’s befuddled
owner along the pier into the grove.
John Burt’s face was radiant as he
made the promise.
The sail was raised, and they start
ed back toward the grove. John help
ed Jessie to the landing, and turned
to see Sam Rounds running toward
them.
“Excuse me.” said hV> breathlessly
to Jessie. “I want you, John!” He
drew John aside. “Arthur Morris and
his friends are drunk in the hotel.”
he said excitedly. “He says he’s go
ing to kill you, and he’s insulted Miss
Carden half a dozen times.”
John's teeih were set and his hands
clenched, but his voice was calm as
he turned to Jessie.
“I must go to the hotel for a few
minutes. I’ll meet you and Sara
later.” he said. “You'll excuse me,
won't you, Jessie?”
“Ob. John, for my sake den i get
into trouble!” pleaded Jessie, who
guessed something of the truth.
John walked hurriedly away. En
tering the hotel, he say Arthur Morris
and five of his male companions seat
ed around a table loaded with cham
pagne bottles and glasses.
John stood unobserved in the deep
tering the hotel,h& saw Arthur Morris
was attempting to sing, hammering on
the tabfe with a cane to beat time.
You’re a fine Lothario, commo
dore!,” said Kingsley, as he slowly
fillet! his glass. "After all your boasts
you let a yokel cut you out. shako his
fist in your face, and sail away with
the fair maiden! Your amours weary
me! ”
“Hold your tongue, Kingsley!”
growled Morris. “You'll sing a differ
ent tune a few weeks from now. As
for this fellow. Burt, I'll horsewhip
him the first time I meet him! You
need not worry about my success with
the Carden. I’ll wager you that in
less than a year 1 will—”
John Burt glided across the room,
grasped him by the shoulders, drag
J7ZX2PA3 .
ZJET.S*7?orw txpcwj&sjzttr a
Jessie shed tears of vexation, but
anger dried her eyes. She turned to
John with a wistful little smile on her
lips.
•'Take me out in your boat. John,”
she said. “Let’s get as far as we can
from those dreadful people.”
In a few minutes the Standish bob
bed saucily at the landing, and Jessie
stepped on board. The wind had
scarcely filled the sail when Morris
came running down the pier. He stop
ped at he saw the pair in the boat,
and glared at them as they glided
away, brute rage showing in every
feature of his flushed face. His
friends followed and led him back.
Little was said between the, two
as the boat moved swiftly along. Each
was busy with thoughts,, and both
seemed under the spell of threatened
trouble. ’ John pointed the boat for
Minot’s Light, and having passed in
side followed the rocky shore, avoid
ing the reefs and shoals, which were
to him as an open book.
“Tell me a story, John, or any
thing! We’re both awfitlly stupid ta
jiay. Don’t you think 60?”
: “I will tell you a secret—two'
Secrets,” said John, gravely.
‘Txin't fell me secrets if you wish'
them kept, John,” laughed Jessie. “I’m
a regular tell-tale!”
“You will keep these secrets—at
least, one of them." replied John. "I’m
going away. That’s the first secret.”
“Going away?” echoed Jessie.
“ Where, John?’*
"Out West—-to California.”
“Going to leave Harvard? Going
to California? Surely you’re joking!
What does this! mean,’John?” The
little face was serious now.
“That is the second secret, Jessie.”
There was that in his voice and in
his eyes which thrilled the girl by his
side, Jessie’s soft brown eyes ripen
ed wide, then dropped as they met his
ferVent gaze.
“I am going away, Jessie, because
I love you.”
The little hand became Imprisoned
in a tender clasp, and she listened as
in a dream to the words which clam
ored for her love.
“Listen to me, Jessie—listen to
mel” His voice was commanding in
jfts earnestness. “I do not ask you to
love me now., I do not, ask you to
promise to fife wife,, L only «Bk
fou to knoW^thutr LftWe'yob? to know
there is one man who has no thought
your welfare; who fiber-';
isbes no ambition other than to see
you showered with all the blessings
and honors which God can grant to a
good woman. That is my ioye, Jes
sie! If some day I have an honest
right, to ask your love in return, I
shall dp’ip, making no claim on Pur
old friendship. • May.I love you that
w«yf* gay that I may, Jessie?” “
'. *I-r-i want you to lore me, John,
but please don*t apeak of it again,
John!*-! said .Jessie, raising her eyes
gllstenin£”f?th; before; ;‘T
Iqgs are
. , ’r* |
ged him from the chair, and with a
grip of iron shook him as a dog does
a rat. His wineglass fell with a crash
to the floor.
“Another word, you drunken insur
er of women, and 1 will beat your
head to a pulp!”
Morris’ guests threw themselves be
tween the two men, and John relaxed
his grasp on Morris’ neck. Dazed for
the moment, Morris recovered him
self, and his face became distorted
with rage. Seizing a heavy bottle,
he hurled it at John’s head. The bot
tle missed its mark and crashed
through a mirror. Reaching into his
pocket with a quickness wonderful in
his condition, he drew a revolver,
and before any one could interfere
fired pointblank at John Burt, who
was not three yards away.
Like a panther, Burt leaped under
the leveled arm. A second shot struck
the ceiling. In a writhing, struggling
mass, amid overturned chairs and
tables, and the flight,of panic-stricken
spectators, both men lurched heavily
to the floor, John Burt uppermost. As
they fell, a third shot was fired, the
report being muffed As the shell ex
ploded within their close embrace.
. : The^ipolyng weapon, fell to lie
floor from the nerveless grasp of Ar
thur Morris. John Burt seized it and
thrust it into his pocket, but the pre
caution was unnecessary. Mortis lay
on the sande’d floor of the inn. stark
and deathlike, a frown upon his race.
On the' white flannel shirt above his
heart was an ominous smear of red,
slowly widening ih a circle with each
respiration, before the: eyes of the
men w'ho bent over him. A froth
tinged with blood oozed and bubbled
from his mouth. -
CHAPTER NINE.
The Parting.
John felt the touch of a hand on his
shoulder, and, turning quickly, faced
Sam Rounds.
“Fer God's sake, git outer here.
John, as soon as ye can!” whispered
Sam. John hung back defiantly.
“Come on, John, Jessie’s waitin’ fer
ye?”
At the sound of Jessie’s name a
wave- of- agony sweptover John Burt.
With a glance at the motionless form
he turned and followed
Rounds. Ke was raised fp
stojp hfm. Thd ^tnonses of the trag
edy, held in a spell, had eyes fdr
■ »»ugfct«but''ita~vietim. J
Jessie ran. forward to meet him,
her face white with fear.
“Oh, what has happened, John?
What has happened?” Her voice trem
bled and her lips parted with a vague
terror. “Are you Bhot? Are you hurt,
John? Oh,-tell jne.iJghn**:,'; . 7 “
“I’nt not hurt, darling,’' said John,
Ip4king iptso the uplifted eyes. “Some-;
thing >hae happened, and we must
lea'fe' at Opee. I will tell ydu>bdyt ft;
on the way borne*’’h- j x 7 r ' 7
By a stern .gffort John Burt master-’
eA his emotions and calmly told Jessie
what Had happened.7He said hfyword
of the Shameful iusulth. in.,which her
drinking place. Wile .explained ithifr/ui
i ts had been shot with, his own weap*
on. Jessie listened breathlessly. It
had grown so dark that John could
not see her face, but there was a
tremor in her voice when she asked
”Will he die. John?"
fear- so," replied John.
It might have been imagination, but
lie thought that Jessie shuddered and
drew away from him. They heard the
rapid beat Of hoofs behind them afad
she clutched his arm.
Out' of the darkness a horse, madly
ridden, dashed forward, and was pull
ed back on his haunches by the side
of the carriage. A face peered in—
the homely but welcome face of Sam
Rounds.
“Drive on as fast as ye can, John,”
gasped Sam. *Tve thrown ’em off
the scent. I ran the Standish out
inter the bay, set er tiller an’ let ’er
go, an’ come back an’ told ’em you
had given ’em the slip that way.
Pretty slick, eh? You bet none o’
them dudes can get the best of Sam
Rounds! Git up!”
Sam gave the horses a cut of the
whip which sent them dashing down
the road. A few minutes later they
reached the Bishop farmhouse. Sam
held the excited horses while John
helped Jessie to alight.
“Jump on my horse and git!” said
Sam in a whisper.
John drew Jessie to the shadow of a
maple and held her hands in his.
“Jessie, I am innocent, but the
world will hold me responsible for
the death of that blackguard. Sweet
heart. I had dreamed of bridging the
gulf between us. I had faith that
some lucky star would smile on my
ambitions: that my youth and health
would one day make me worthy of
the grandest gift God gives to man—
the love of the woman he worships!
That hope is not dead, but it has gone
far from me, 1 must endure either
imprisonment and disgrace at home
or exile abroad. I can face, either,
J< . io, if 1 have the suppon of your
friendship, and the knowledge that
you hold me guiltless. Can you give
me them, sweetheart?’
“Both. John.” said Jessie, softly. “I
—I—shall pray for your success. Go
now. John! Take Sam’s advice end
mine. Good-bye, dear!” There were
tears in the sweet voice.
“Will you kiss me. Jessie?”.
(To be continued.)
A Teacher Taught.
Dr. Vaughan, for many years head
master at Harrow, once had an amus
ing encounter with a small boy who
carried oft the honors of the occasion.
The incident greatly pleased the doc
tor.
A frightened child named Dodd was
brought before Dr. Vaughan, charged
with some dire scholastic offense.
‘ What Is your name?" asked the
master, with due severity.
‘ Dodd, sir,” answered the trembling
boy.
“Dodd! Do you spell it with one ‘d,‘
or with two?”
“No. "sir, three ” answered the hoy.
The doctor put his head upon the
desk, covered it. with his hands a
moment, and then dismissed the dan
gerous criminal with a warning.
He said afterward: "I could no
more have punished that boy than I
could have flown. Nobody before ever
gave me such a lesson in spelling.”—
Short Stories.
A Bright Boy.
Judge E. H. Gary, chairman of the
executive committee of the Steel
Trust, used to live in the Illinois town
of Wheaton.
“One day in Wheaton.” Judge Gary
said recently. “I took dinner with a
clergyman and his family. The clergy
man had an eight-year-old son called
Joe. and Joe was a very bright boy.
“‘Look here. Joe,’ I said during the
course of the dinner. ‘I have a ques
tion to ask you about your father.’
“Joe looked gravely at me.
“‘All right; I’ll answer your ques
tion.’ he said.
" ‘Well,’ said I, ‘I w'ant to know If
your father doesn’t preach the same
sermon twice sometimes.’
“ ‘Yes, I think he does,’ said Joe.
‘but the second time he always hollers
in different places from what he did
the first time.’ ”
_
Quite. Feasible.
Joseph M. Edwards, who travels for
a Baltimore dry gods house, told the
following at the Grand the other even
ing:
“In Baltimore there’s an old bache
lor I’m acquainted with who’s a bit of
a wit in his way. He lives, ot rather
did, before the fire, as it burned him
out. in a very dilapidated house, and
his rooms were always in great disor
der. ' - ' . ; - :
“Why don’t you get married?" I
said to him one day. “Then you
would have some one to keep the
place tidy, and make it homelike.’
:: ‘The fact is. I’ve never thought of
it.’ he replied, ‘but it seems quite'feas
ible < that a better half would want
better quarters.’
“Since the fire I have not seen the
old fellow, and no one seems to know
cf his present whereabouts.*'-—New
York Globe.
Historic Farm for Sale.
Corley HaH farm, a picturesque
fenglish homeigfeod on the main road
between Nuneaton and Corley, is to
be, offered.at ,mbli.c 4’action. Within
a short distance was born the War
wickshire novelist, George Eliot, and
in “Adam Bede” Corley Hall farm fig
ured conspicuously. Here it was that
the immortal Mrs. Poyser lived, and
with her the unfortunate Hetty Sorrel.
George Elliot'described the place as it
was in the earlier half bf the nine
teenth Century. i Since then ft has
undergone considerable renovation,
but is still yearly visited by tourists
.from all pafts of the world. '!* ' ,
k'fc '■ T i?i i <'.«'■» - ■ i • T *
, Wealthy Woman Evangelist. 7
Mary B., Robinson of Pittsburg.
,Pa., is the richest woman evangelist.
She is the niece of John G. Robinson,
-secretary of the Pittsburg and Lake
Erie railway; has a fortune of $500,
^oa^.wj^.oae.Qt,
the most luxurious homes in the
g^okf W; ShO and
imM og”i^s m&MmSf
It
J
Cotton Crepes.
Crepe marquise is one of the new
spring and summer fabrics that/can be
washed. It has a crepe ground of
monotones, and is distinguished by
embroidered dots. Crepe Jacqueline,
another silk and cotton goods In
monotones, runs through the gamut of
colors from pale ecru to black, with
overrunning jacquards. Crepe Ar
| mazine is similar to crepe marquise,
save that silk stripes instead of dots
break its surface. Crepe princess is
all cotton, but is a charming fabric.
Voile duchess is a new and cheap all
cotton goods, with three threads wov
en together in such a way as to pre
vent sagging of the material. Pompa
dour crepe is another new dress ma
terial, with the softness of crepe and
| the lustre of silk, and printed in
Pompadour designs.
Blouse Eton.
Walking costumes made with short
coats and skirts that clear the ground
are the latest shown and are charm
| ingly graceful as well as hygienic and
| comfortable. This one is made of
mixed homespun, in tans and browns,
1 with revers of tan colored cloth, and
4674 Blouse Eton, 32 to 40 bust
4673 Walking Skirt, 22 to 33 vaict
includes the fashionable tucks in both 1
! blouse and skirt. The drop shoulders. !
1 the wide sleeves and the crushed belt I
all mark the blouse as essentially !
smart, while the skirt with front and ;
back alike and short tucks between is |
one of the newest and best Hked. To
make the blouse for a woman of me
dium size will be required 3% yards
of material 27, 2*6 yards 44 or 2 yards
52 inches wide; Jo make the skirt 7*4
yards 27, 5 yartfs 44 or 3^6 yards 52
inches wide.
A May Manton pattern of blouse,
No. 4674, sizes 32 to 40, or of skirt.
No. 4673, sizes 22 to 30, will be mailed
to any address on receipt of ten cents
for each.
Louis XV Ribbons.
There iB a suspicion of the influence
of Louis XV in the new ribbons. A
beautiful long white satin cloak has a
cape composed entirely of puffings of
chiffon, toning from dark to light.
Other effects are produced in evening
gowns by placing one color over an
other; pink, gold and blue produce a
quite delightful nuance, and there are
many others, deep purple shading; up
to the palest mauve, brown to flam£
color. Panne, velours, mousselines,
beautiful in themselves, are capable
of displaying lovely coloring to en
hance their grace. Borderings of sucjh
fur as ermine and minlvgr arfe'A beau
The Latest of the Decrees of Fashion
—Crepe Marquise One of the New
Spring and Summer Fabrics—Jap
anese Satins That Are Bound to Be
Popular.
tiful accompaniment to orchid tones.
The various shades that characterize
bunches of violets now are notably
beautiful, and they often peep out
from a background of cerise velvet,
while light blue gains an added charm
la contrast to the Russian violets.
I »
'
Voiles for Spring wear show faint
colored plaids and raised dots, some
times both in the one pattern.
Small three-cornered hats are to be
worn,: their severity softened by a
ribbon rosette holding a falling bunch
of flowers at the side.
Don’t try to wear that new “Alge
rian” blue unless you have a faultless
complexion.
Some of the spring walking hats are
trimmed with foulard handkerchiefs,
which show Japanese centers and
plain borders. .
Lots of tawny yellow shades and
umbers will be worn by those who
can do so without endangering their
good looks.
Initialed Handkerchiefs.
Men’s smart handkerchiefs once
more display at one of the lower
angles the exact representation of a
wax seal, oerfectlv imitated with the
needle and washing silk, either in
blue, red, gray or pink. In the center
of this solid stitchery are worked out
in white silk small delicate initials
or Interlaced monograms. Larger and
heavier ones are fretted, Richelieu
fashion, and entirely embroidered in
white silk or lustra cotton within a
formal square outlined with stem
stitch.
Old-Fashioned Brocades.
Velvets of light and delicate colors
combined with heavy patterned gui
pure and rich Venetian and Spanish
point are being employed for the most
exquisite tea gowns and evening
dresses, trimmed with bands of pale
and dark fur. We are coming to pan
niers. especially for weddings. The
mothers of the brides are falling back
on brocade, and the guests are often
seen in velvet gowns trimmed with
chinchilla, the elder ladies favoring
black velvet gowns.
Veils Are Passing.
Veils will be much less worn be
cause of the veil effects in the lace
trimmings, and feathers, though seen
occasionally, will be far less popular
than flowers. Roses stand first in fa
vor-i-very large and small, and pink
more than other colors.
And all the handsomest ornaments
are in art noveau tinted to match all
the spring flowers.
Alcohol cleans piano keys; kero
sene, oilcloth, table and shelf covers.
A tablespoonful of vinegar mixed
with three of pure linse»d on will
freshen and polish mahogany.
For sponging out bureau drawers or
sideboards use tepid water containing
a small quantity of thymolin.
To clean plaster of parts ornaments
cover them with a thick coating of
starch and allow it to become per
fectly dry. Then It may be brushed
off and the dirt with it.
Polished iron work can be preserv
ed from rust by an inexpensive mix
ture made of copal varnish mixed
with as much olive oil as will give
it a degree of greasiness. and after
ward adding to this mixture as much
spiTit of turpentine as of varnish.
; To clean a clock lay in the bottom
a rag saturated with kerosene. The
* WITH CAPE EFFECT.
, - . * «...■•
Waists made with fancy capes, or
cape cellars, are both graceful and
fashionable, and also are becoming tp
the greater numoer of womankind.
-one- 4* peculiarly effective .'and
makes part of tk costume of .' vioiet
seeded voile trimmed vuaeoruKli&cc
appHtfue and worn' With a crushed: belt j
W meshaliiP? sStfir. The’- tricks, tffet
VVer arranged W give a,1 tdke Perfect In
ttie' w^t^ranVi,% cph$rie •tfce ^le^fe j
closely at th^ th6uraer*£ fe&ftr'idiirfcbft;
■■ ■ • . » ■ ■ " t ~ ;
ltiLjtnnlq Jyfi i alij .rl vd ••->?,t«:
fullness .below the stitchiugs that
means admirable folds and lines and
allows the. <1rQOD oyer the wide belt
that marto^lbg latest, models. To
.make ;the, waist, for ;a woman pi me-.
dinm. adze, will,be required 5% yards
*>* ih 017,3% yacda 14
inches wide, with * jrai;*; ,04 applique
to finish -edges of cape, sleeves and
collar.-eedanrur^ ni »*€
H't-A *ltay.*>lfairton^ pfcttenfr,. 'Ro: J&7&
‘vtoeaXi lb Wwtlf be a?a te(^tb mf;
; address *#airi##Ip|fiofyibd jfefrtw$Wtda .
fumes loosen the dirt and cause it
to drop out. In a few days place an
other cloth saturated in kerosene In
the clock, The fumes lubricate the
works.
Red and Pink Combined.
A combination of colors most people
would exclaim at has become very
popular this season. It is red and
pink, and brunettes may consider this
a blessing, as It is particularly becom
ing to their type. Pink is used for
the foundation of the frock, and it is
trimmed with clusters of cherry or
deep poppy shades that blend with
it. The effect is very rich, and a hand
some gown is the result if care is
taken in the shading of the color.
Child's Frock.
Long-waisted or French frocks are
among the most fashionable shown!
for the little folk and are charming;
in the extreme. This one is made of
mercerized blue chambray with trim
ming of white embroidery and is em
inently simple as well as attractive^
4862 Child’s Frock, 2 to 8 years.
of 5 years of age will be required 3 >4
but the design can be reproduced in
manfr materials. The slightly open
neck is a special feature and the wide
collar is peculiarly stylish and becom
ing.# To make the frock for a child
yards of material 27. 3*4 yards 32 or
2% yards 44 inches wide.
A May Manton pattern, No. 4652,
sizes 2 to 8 years, will be mailed to
any address on receipt of ten cents.
Japanese Satins.
How lovely are the gauzes, some of
them exhibiting velvet brocade, some
satin stripes; many are embroidered
with gold wistaria blooms. Printed
satins show something of the Jap
anese element, and though we cannot
quite make up our minds whether we
are to. be faithful to silk and return
with all our allegiance to It, it Is cer
tainly nsakin£ it* way for picture
gowps, and soft makes are delicately
painted with chine effects. Diaphan
ous silk muslme and tulles cannot be
beaten for evetflng wear, and the am
plitude of skirts show them off well.
When making a pudding don’t for
get to make & pleat in the cloth at the
top of your basin, so as to allow the
pudding room to swell.
The hands can be cleansed better
with Warm water than with cold,
but they; should always be rinsed
afterward with cola water, as this
keeps them in a better condition.
A good polish for stoves Is made of
one teasDdoplP.il ef powdered alum
mixed with the stove oottsfi. The
briJIiatoee that this polish will give to
a stove wjJjFTast for a long time.
To preserve stair carpets put pads
of old blankets on each step. If there
Is no store of ancient blankets to
draw from, a substitute may be made
of several thicknesses of brown paper.
When a spoonful of borax Is- put
into the last water in which white
clothes are rinsed, It has the effect
of whitening them. Before it Is added
to the rinsing water the borax should
be dissolved in a little hot water.
Popular Laces.
Bruges and duchesse figure on many
of the new Paris gowns, which means
it is hoped that Honiton .will have a
look in- It is so pretty combined with
soft Suede in belts and in appliques on
materials, Black lace sparkles with
jet and is accompanied by beautiful
collars, which are. more wonderfully
cut than iet has ever been,
• •' -,2 « - * " ' . < * ..;<•* ‘ »
Readers of this paper can secure any May
Mao Lon pattern Uiustrnu-a above by tilling out
•Ifplaaks In coupon, and mailit g, with 1U cents,
toE- E.’ Harrison <fc go.,65PlymoutVPlaoe,gitf.
cago, Pattern will he mailed promptly.
i
]
\
Place, Chlcagot tnt*.-;- Si !
A Question of Etiquette.
“I am just a little puzzled^” she
Mid.
“What’s.. the matter?” asked her
diirest fridn'd.
“Why, of course if you become en
gaged to a young man at the seashore
it doesn’t count .the following wit-ipr,
but doe’s it count for anything if ypu
happen tomeet' him at the seashore
again the next Summer?”
Revised Version.
“Well, well!” exclaimed the minis
ter, as he threw aside the local pa
per, “if that isn’t enough to try tho
patience of Job ”
“Why, what in the world is the
matter, dear?” asked hia wife.
“Last Sunday,” explaiend the good
man, “I preached from the text, ‘Be
ye therefore steadfast,” but the print
er makes it read, ‘Bd ye there for
breakfast.’ ”
Many Like Him.
"He pretends to be a philosopher.”
“Yes; but' T notice one peculiar
thing about his philosophy.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s only other people’s hard htck
that he is able to accept philosophi
cally.”
Suspicious.
“Oh, George, I’m so happy!”
“What's up? Some of the neigh
bors in trouble?”
%» *
A Correction.
“I want to thank you,” said the lady
visitor, “for your review of my 'His
tory of Female Suffrage.’ But, by the
way, you had one queer typographical
error.”
“What was that?” inquired the po
litical editor to whom she had been
referred by mistake.
“You spoke of me as ‘a new b-i-s
t-e-r-i-c-a-1 wTiter."
“That’s so. 'Hysterical’ is spelled
with a ‘y.’ ”
The Famine View.
“Mamma,” asked small Floramay,
“was the earth created before man?”
“Certainly, my dear," replied her
mother.
“Why was it?” continued the little
inquisitor.
“It was probably known,” explained
the wise woman, ’‘that it would bo
the first thing he’d want after his ar
rival.”
As She Understood.
“Dear me,” exclaimed the pretty lit
tle woman as she glanced over the
sporting page for the first time,” how
this poor man must have suffered
with insomnia!”
“What man?” asked her husband.
“Why, Billy Broadflst. The paper
says last night was the first time he
had ever been put to sleep.”
-—.—
Enjoyed the Evening.
“Did you enjoy the evening of grand
opera?”
“Did |?” answered Mr. Cmrrrox en
fhasiastieally. “Tt was great. I sent
mother and the girls there, dismissed
all the servants and then went dowD
and smoked a cigar right in the par
lor.”—Waahington 8tar
He Makes Talk.
McJigger—There isn't a man Id
town who can keep the conversational
ball rolling like our friend Gayrake.
. Thingumbob—Nonsense! He never
*ays anything worth listening to.
McJigger—No, but he does a lot of
things worth talking about
r* '* . -V _ , i*—r-—... jfc • ■ ".ft* .
Circumstances Alter Cases.
Brigand—'Tis the millionaire’^
mother-indaw that we’ve captured, not
his wife. Shall we threaten to kill
her ii; he dori’t send £5,000, instehd
of ten?
Chief—No. we’ll threaten to send
hef back’it he don’t send £20,000—>
Boston Traveler. ' ‘
* It Draws Itself.
“Yes.” said the artist, ”1 drew this
sketch of the scene of the accident -in
less than an hour.”
"Not all the details, surely.” ex
claimed h!s admirer. “All that drowd,”
for instance—”
“O, *A‘s easy to draw a crowd when
you start sketching.’*—Philadelphia
Press,
Near the Limit.
Growell—Speaking of mean men.
that fellow Duffey is* about the limit.
’ Howell—How’s that? *•*<
Growell—Every tithe he goes Into a
crowded barbpr shop for a shave he
gets his hair cut juStto keep dthers
waiting.
Explained./'- ’ /;
fDarkins^ seems tp be Very bitter
and pessimistic.”
He,^ liyed ,lp.. flat building*
itf.his Ijfe-and the ja'riltors Rnye, made
hipy so,t /i ,.' ' 1
’t f: \ f",
* ’’ MV
.i**#>&&**"***:RSte» ,.
He d£ v^n.t knpw enou^n. ahoyt [he
.aw to be.*, sn.cpassfuj[...la5ti-er,” '
"Well/ Vers make hfm » judge.** *
