JOHN BURT
I Author of “The Kidnapped Millionaires/* “Colonel Monroes Dextrine,” Etc, I
I*. COPTBIGHT. 1903. BT
FBXDBtUCK UPHAM An*Mg
All rights
reserved
COPTRIUHT, 1903. BT
A. J. Due&kl Biddle I
Cupid had stolen upon her in th«
night. He had fired an arrow and
fled. Sh^j felt the delicious tingle
of the wound in her heart, and wen
dered if it was love.
CHAPTER TEN.
Samuel Lemuel Rounds.
“The Roundses don’t run much tew
ancestry, 1 reckon; leastwise our end
on ’em don't,” Sam Rounds had ex
plained to John Burt on one occasion.
“Course I’ve got a lot of ancestors
back somewhar, but who'n thunder
they are, blamed ’f I know!”
It is reasonably well established
that a Rounds settled in Rehoboth
fully one hundred years before Sam i
was born, but the atter’s recollection
did not extend back of his father—one
Hiram Rounds. The annals of Hiram
Rounds and his iamily can be epito
mized in one word—work.
“Dad shorelv was er hard worker
an’ no mistake,” explained Sam.
‘‘When thar wa’nt no work tew dew
on our farm, he’d hire out tew ther
neighbors fer fifty er seventy-five i
cents or day. And at night we’d all
shave hoops after supper, working ’til
nine an’ sometimes ten o’clock. In
tL<? winter dad would haul logs tew
Newport. He shorelv was the cham
pion worker ’round Rehoboth. Lots er
strong young fellers came up from
Attleboro and tried to mow a swath
with dad, but he bushed all on ’em.”
"Killing himself to live,” mused
John Burt.
“Wall, I reckon he did—leastwise
Doc Reynolds 'lowed so. Dad died
when he was forty-eight. He teamed
all night, three nights runnin’. workin’
out the poll-tax fer the neighbors, an’
he had er stroke. Doc warned him
then tew let up er bit, but dad just
somehow couldn’t, and he pitched in
ergain. He was shinglin’ ther roof of
ther barn, erbout elevon o’clock one
night, an’ I guess he had erother
stroke. The doctor couldn't exactly
uel. Don’t be extravagant, Samuel.
It’s .a besetting sin.”
“There ain’t no commandment agin
it; leastwise I never saw none in the
Bible,” said Sam, who was a perpetual
mystery to his mother. “To my way
of thinkin’, extravagance is erbout the
only thing worth livin’ for. I aims ter
be the most extravagant chap ever
turned outer Rocky Woods.”
The reproving look on his mother’s
face vanished when Sam threw his
i strong arms around her and kissed
her with a resounding smack. They
j entered the house, and Sam escorted
his mother to a cozy room and told
her that it was her own. She looked
at the tasteful furniture, the snowy
linen, the bright rugs, and the pic
tures. and tears stood in her eyes.
“This is too good for me, Samuel,”
she said, holding his hands and look
ing fondly 'into his eyes. “But you
must be hungry. I'll change my dress
and get dinner. Where’s the kitchen,
Samuel?”
‘Never mind erbout the kitchen,”
said Sam. “There ain’t no kitchen fer
you. Dinner’s all ready, anyhow.
Come on, Ma Rounds. I’l show you
the cutest dinin’-room ye ever sot yer
eyes on.” »
It was a pretty dining-room. A
broad bay window, framed with morn
ing glories, looked out on a well-kept
lawn. The table was decorated with
flowers, and the table linen was flaw
less. To the old farmwife these mod
est comforts realized her dreams of
prodigality.
Sam touched a bell, and a trim,
white-aproned maid responded. She
placed a tureen in front of the mas
; ter of the house and moved noiseless
ly away. -Mrs. Rounds gazed search
icgly. first at the young woman and
then at Sam.
“Seems like old times tew have you
offer a blessin’ ” said Sam, as he serv
ed his mother a portion of the savory
soup.
“Who is that woman?’ she asked.
////
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tell whether he had er stroke, er
wither he fell off an’ broke his
neck, er both—enyhow he was dead
when they picked him up. I wasn’t
home at ther time—I wTas in Fall
River workin’ in the mills. When us
young ones got tew be twelve years
old most" on us was packed uff an’ set
tew work in ther cotton mills er in
the match factories. Five of my sis
ters worked in ther cotton mills.
Nowadays ther workin’ men are talk
in’ erbout er ten-hour day, an’ some
on ’em is strikin’ fer an’ eight-hour
day. My sisters an’ thousands of
other girls used tew work from six
o’clock in ther mornin’ till nine at
night, an’ they was mighty glad tew
git ther chance. Where air my sistei's
now? Two on ’em is dead, two mar
ried, an’ one’s in an asylum.”
‘'You never told me how you made
your start, Sam,” John said, taking
advantage of his friend’s reminiscent
mood.
“Reckon I never would got started
if I had tew depend on wages,” re
flected Sam. “Worked In er shop
in Providence fer three years an’
saved up er hundred dollars. Then
dad died an’ left me part of ther old
farm. I sold out fer six hundred.
Went up ter Vermont and bought
some hosses an’ brought ’em back an’
sold ’em. Then I kept on buyin’ an’
sellin’ 'em. When I had enough
money I bought that air strip of land
I own now. and I’ve been thare ever
since. I've been down ter New York,
lookin’ it over, an’ have erbout decid
ed ter locate thare. That’s er great
town, John, an’ I knows more erbout
hosses than mose on ’em down that
a-way. What dew ye think erbout it.
John?”
Sam looked anxiously into the face
of his friend.
“I should go." said John decisively.
"There’s a fortune waiting for you
in New York. Sam. Go. by all means.”
This settled it with Sam. A month
after the Segregarsett sailed away
with John Eurt., a Providence steam
er carried Sam Rounds and fifty
carefully selected horses to New
York. Since the death cf his father
Sam had provided for his mother, who
lived with him in a well-built house
on his Hingham stock farm.
Mrs. Rounds was a faded little
woman who had reached her three
score of years. She looked fraiT, but
' was seemingly incapable of physical
fatigue. She had reared a family of
ten children, and for more than forty
years had averaged sixteen hours of
work a day. Her girlhood was spent
in a factory and her honeymoon in a
kitchen.
When Sam was able to build a
house he declaied that it should be
his mother’s home. He registered a
vow that she should do no more work.
The good old lady was astonished
and a bit dismayed when she examin
ee the modest house Sam had erected.
"This is a nice place,” she sitd—
pride of her son and hereditary cau
tion struggling for mastery. "It must
•ha’ cost a lot of money. I’m afraid
you're reckless and extravagant, 8am
“Her name is Mrs. Fletcher. She’s
the housekeeper here. She’s a widow
lady, an’ a mighty good woman.”
“Of course you’ll let her go now,”
his mother said, when the housekeep
er had served a roast of lamb, a dish
of green peas, browned potatoes and
some tender cabbage. “I can do the
cookin’ an’ all the work here now.
What do you pay her. Samuel?”
“Seven dollars a—a month,” said
Sam, who preferred the falsehood
rather than the confession of the
appalling truth that Mrs. Fletcher re
ceived that amount per week. “She’s
an awful good cook, ma.”
“Seven dollars a month and her
keep,” mused Mrs. Rounds. “That
would be as much as twelve dollars a
month, or one hundred and fifty dol
lars a year. Samuel. We can save all
that. Let her go at once, Samuel, and
I will do the work.”
“You’ll do nothin’, Ma Rounds,”
said Sam, decidedly. “You’ve worked
night onto fifty years, an’ that's
enough. Now, I'm go’in ter dew ther
work, an’ you're goin’ ter dew ther
playin' an’ restin’. Of course you can
sew an' bos3 ther girl an’ putter
’round like, but you must keep outer
ther kitchen, an’ fergit that brooms
ever was made. Don’t you worry er
bout money. I’ve got enough money
ter keep both on us er hundred years,
an’ I’m goin’ ter have more.”
Sam took his mother to Boston and
superintended the purchase of dress
materials, a bonnet, and various
articles of apparel. On this occasion
he was guilty of a scheme of decep
tion which filled his soul with joy.
He was acquainted with Mr. Farns
worth, the merchant, and calling him
aside, said:
T want you tew wait on mother an’
me, yerself, Mr. Farnsworth. Mother
is the best woman in the world, but
she thinks I’m extravagant, an I
wouldn’t hurt her feelins fer any
thing. Now, I tell ye what ye can
dew. When she picks out a cheap
thing, you multiply the price b7 four
| er five, an’ tVhen ye show her some
thin’ bang-up an’ good enough fer a
| princess, put the price way down.
Dye understand? An’ when we gets
through, give me the true bill and
show her the other one, an’ I’ll make
i it ad right fer yer trouble. An’ mind
| ye, I want the best in ther store for
! Mother Rounds.”
The merchant smilingly agreed to
I thi3 arrangement and entered heartilv
! iato the deception. Mrs. Rounds had
never been in Boston until that day
although all her life had been spent
within an hour's ride from the New
England metropolis. Occasional visits
to the dry-goods shops of Taunton
formed epochs in her life, and she
was dazed at the contemplation of
the sight before her. The shelves,
with their load of fabrics, seemed
endless, and she crouched behind a
marble column for fear of being in
the way of the chattering, laughing
: throng of shoppers.
“I don’t want much, Samuel,” she
whispered, as Mr. Farnsworth turned
to take down a bolt of dress goods.
“We must be «Ton cm leal, tfacsuel.
Tell Dim to show us some ginghams." j
“Ail right, Ma Rounds; watch me
beat him down," returned Sam, nudg-'
ing her gently with his elbow.
“Here is a stylish pattern. Mrs,
Rounds,” said Mr. Farnsworth, dis
playing a neat gingham, worth per
haps ten cents a yard.
“How much a yard?" asked Sam.
Mr. Farnsworth gravely consuitec;
the cabalistic price mark.
“The regular price is ninety-five
cents a yard, but.” lowering his voice
and glancing about to make sure he
was not overheard. “I will make it tc
you at eighty cents.”
“Eighty cents a yard for gingham!*'
gasped Mrs. Rounds.
“It is imported goods, Mrs
Rounds,” explained Mr. Farnsworth,
critically stroking the print. “It wears
like silk. We carry uo domestic ging
hams. Here is one at eighty-five cents
and this ore is a dollar and ten a
yard. That would make you a fine
gown. Mrs. Rounds.’
“Let's go somewhere else, Samuel,”
whispered his mother. positively
frightened. “I can buy gingham in
Taunton for eight cents a yard.”
“Wait a bit.” said Sam reassuringly
“What have ye got in silks, Mr. Farns
worth?”
“We have a fine line of silks,” re-!
plied that gentleman, leading the way j
to another counter. “I should recom j
mend a heavy black gros grain silk j
for Mrs. Rounds. We have them at i
all prices. Here is one at a dollor and j
a half a yard.
He displayed a silk worth at least j
three dollars a yard. The old lady
looked fondly at the glossy fabric, j
The temptation was great, but she i
closed her lips firmly and put Satan
behind her.
“Too much.” said Sam decisively.'
“We’re not rich ner proud. Mr. Farns- ;
worth. Show ns somethin’ cheaper.”
“Very well. Here is one at a dollar
a yard, and here is one which is a
bargain.” He unrolled a superb,
heavy bolt of silk, lustrous black and j
a delight to the eye. He examined j
the price mark critically. It told him j
that the wholesale cost was four dol
lars a yard and the upset retail fig
ure four dollars and seventy-five cents. |
“I can let you have that at eighty |
cents a yard.” he said after a mental:
calculation.
“Now, ye’re giftin’ down tew busi-1
ness.” Sam declared tentatively.'
“That's tew much, bet it’s more like '
it. What do you think of the goods, j
Ma Rounds? You'd look like r. four-1
year old in a gown made of that.”
“It’s very fine—too fine for me. I’m
afraid.” She was weakening. “And ‘
it’s cheap, if it's real silk. Is it really ]
and truly silk?” She looked timidly;
at Mr. Farnsworth, who assured her1
it was silk beyond a doubt.
(To be continued.)
HAD FUN WITH MILLAIS.
Friend Tried to Convince Him He
Was Not a Great Hunter.
Sir William Vernon Hareourt has a
great reputation for his humor. Years
ago he received an enthusiastic letter
from his intimate friend Millais, the
artist, who boasted of having killed a
great stag. Sir William replied:
“I received your insane letter, from
which I gather that you are under the ;
impression that you have killed a
stag. Poor fellow. I pity your delu
sion. I hope the time has now come
when I can break to you the painful
truth. Your wife, who (as I have al
ways told you) alone makes it pos
sible for you to exist, observing how
the disappointment of your repeated
failures was telling on your health
and on your intellect, arranged with
the keepers for placing in a proper
position a wooden stag. You were
conducted unsuspectingly to the spot
and fired at the dummy! In the ex
citement of the moment you were car
ried off by the gillie, so that you did
not discern the cheat.”
TURNED THEM ALL DOWN.
Culprit Evidently Not Impressed by
Appearance of Lawyers.
Secretary of the Treasury Leslie M.
Shaw told the following story when
he was in New York the other day of
the time he was practicing law in
Iov a.
One of his townsmen was arraign°d
for a crime and had no counsel. The
Judge explained to him that he was
entitled to have counsel assigned to
him. He pointed out several attor
neys in the courtroom, naming them
as he did so, and said:
“Here are Mr. So-and-So and So-and
So, and Mr. Smith is out in the cor
ridor. You can choose any one you
want and I will assign him to defend
you.”
The prisoner slowly looked the law
yers in the courtroom over, one after
the other, and then replied:
“If it suits your honor just as well.
I’d as soon have the one in the hall.’'
—New York Times.
Wanted Home Industry.
A wealthy Scotch ironmaster called
on a country squire and wa3 ushered
into the library. He had never seen
such a room before, and was much
impressed with the handsome cases
and the array of well-bound volumes
that filled their shelves. The next
time he went to Glasgow he made a
point of calling at a well-known book
seller’s, when the following conversa
tion is reported to have taken place:
“I want you to get me a leebrary.”
“Very well. Mr. -; I’ll be pleased
to supply you with books. Can you i
give me any list of such bocks as you '
wculd like?" “Ye ken mair abcot I
buiks than I do, so you can choose '
then yourself.” “Then you leave the '
selection entirely to me? Would you ;
like them bcund in Russ:a or Me- I
rocco?” “Russia cr Morocco? Can
ye no’ get them bound in Glasco?”
_
Back to His Youthful Days.
When Elizabeth Akers Alien wrote
“Backward, turn backward, O Time, j
fa thy flight, make me a child again |
just for to-night,” she did not foresee |
the experience of the Pennsylvania
man who was struck on the heaa by
the branch of a falling tree and made
unconscious for a time. When he re
gained his senses he was a boy again
in mind. He now wants to play the
same games he played as a youngster
and do the same , chores. Aside from
the wound on his head, which is heal
ing, he is in good physical health. Ho
is of middle age.
c
Organdy With Frills of Lace.
Confirmation and graduation dresses
differ little in design or material, as
both occasions demand white, sim
ply made. This very pretty model
suits both and is made of French
organdy with trimming of Valenci
ennes lace forming frills and double
frills, or ruches. The waist is a pe
culiarly becoming one to young girls
and harmonizes to a nicety with the
skirc that is made on ideally simple
lines, both being shirred, the waist
*672 Confirmation or Graduation Dress,
12 to 16 years.
to give a bertha effect, the skirt to
form a hip yoke. To render the de
sign still further useful and avail
able for occasions of greater dress
the waist is so constructed as to al
low of being made low with elbow
sleeves, as shown in the small sketch.
The quantity of material required
for a girl of 14 years of age is 9
yards 21, 7 yards 27 or 4% yards 44
inches wide.
A May Manton pattern, No. 4672,
sizes 12 to 16 years, will be mailed to
any address on receipt of ten cents.
Raisin Sandwich.
An unusual yet very palatable sand
wich filling is made from finely chop
ped, seeded raisins and English wal
nuts meats mixed with the well-beat
en white of an egg slightly seasoned
and flavored with a tiny bit of vanilia.
Figs used in place of raisins will af
ford variety, but no sugar should be
used with them. Use equal propor
tions of fruit and nuts.
Turkey a la Hamburger.
Here is a dish that is new: Grind
in a sausage mill the meat from the
drumsticks and thigh bones of a tur
key with a little fat. Season with
finely chopped parsley, a green pepper
and an onion, black and red pepper,
salt; beat up two fresh eggs and mix
the whole mass with cracker dust.
Form in the shape of an oval loaf and
bake in a quick oven, with a few
pats of butter slightly pressed into the
top. Serve in slices from a hot plat
ter.—New York Press.
Faded old shades are popular.
Boleros and skirts are the accepted
dress mode.
Rays of fine pinch tucks give the
tailored finish.
Almost all of the “opening” gowns i
have deep, tight cuffs.
Crush belts of Japanese hand em
broidered satin are new'.
Every shade of brown “goes,” from
light golden to mud color.
The Dutch neck is a pretty finish
for warm weather waists.
Underwaists of thin silk are worn
beneath transparent waists.
A mousseline waist with velvet skirt
is an approved combination.
Little moons and star constellations
appear on some shining silks.
Satin buttons embroidered by hand
with tiny flowers are from Japan.
Embroider your linen gow'n with
graduated wafer spots in pale colors.
\ Stocks with long tabs reaching the
waist and edged with plaited frills
are shown.
When Onions Are Odorless.
How many times has every flat
dweller entered his home only to cry
out in disgust because the odor of
the onion or the turnip or something
wvwwvw
Readers of this paper can secure any May :
Mtntoa pattern illustrated above by filling out !
all biauks in coupon, and mailing, with iOceuts, j
to E. E. Harrison <£ Co., Plymouth Place, Cti- {
cago. Pattern will be mailed promptly.
I
;
Write plainly. Fill out an blanks. Enclose
On Mall to E. K. Harrison A Oa, Ob Plymouth
Place, caHaga
Fashion Hints, Recipes, and General
Chat on Matters Connected With
the Household—Charming —Con
firmation Oress for Young Giri—
Embroidered Crepe de Chine and
else has permeated the entire six or
seven rooms?
“Let’s stop having such things for
dinner,” he suggests to his wife.
“Why it’s mortifying to invite a friend
to dine when one knows this sort of
atmosphere is going to knock him
down as soon as he enters the door.”
As a matter of fact, there is no need
for excluding the onion or the other
offending eatables. The simplest way
in the world to solve the difficulty is
this: Have the cook put into the
cooking vessel with your onions just
a piece of stale bread about as big
as your fist. Somehow or other the
bread absorbs the odors, and you
don’t know onions are on your menu
until you sit down at the table.
To Cleanse Piano Keys.
It is a simple matter to whiten
piano keys by washing them with a
strong solution of nitric acid to an
ounce of soft water. Use a piece of
soft cheesecloth to wash the keys,
being careful that the solution does
not come in contact with the wood.
Whiting or prepared chalk mixed
with lemon juice is an excellent polish
to apply while the keys arc moist.
Badly discolored keys can only he
remedied by calling in a careful work
man.
Parisian Hose.
The latest Parisian fad. which is
sure to make its way across the ocean,
consists in a delicate silken, hose, dec
orated with hand-painted birds, flow
ers or arabesques on the instep, and
in some instances reaching up in front
to a short distance below the knee.
A New Ornament.
The piquet is the name given to the
spruce little bunch of flowers or small
fruit which is somewhat stiffly tied
up. to stand sentinel on the little
spring walking hats. The piquet is
usually placed to the left of front;
but as there are left-handed and right
handed people, so there are women or
girls to whom hat trimmings are most
becoming when poised at the right
side than on the left. In such a case
the piquet of a lady’s slippers, stocks
or foxgloves may be mentioned to
the right of the front, besides the
crown. The piquet stands erect and
is supposed to be something cf an ai
grette or pompon made of flowers,
instead of feathers.
New Idea in Linens.
A new idea in linens is to be seen m
the loosely woven ones which re
semble scrim more than anything
else. The color of this material, also,
looks like scrim, and many beautiful
effects are showir in colored flower
designs on the ecru background. One
of the prettiest linens is of a pure
white mesh with a delicate pale green
intermingled. Fern leaves are scat
tered about the border.
—
£itchen
To extinguish a chimney on fire
take a large handful of sulphur and
throw it into the fire. When the sul
phurous fumes ascend they will at
once put out the fire.
A small tray of quicklime placed in
closets after they have been thorough
ly cleaned will be found excellent for
keeping the air pure and absorbing
moisture. The lime must be frequent
ly renewed.
To clean a mirror try rubbing it
with a ball of soft paper slightly
dampened with methylated spirit, then
with a duster on which a little whiting
has been sprinkled, and finally polish
with clean paper or a wash leather.—
Chicago American.
A little freshly made tea and a pinch
of nutmeg impart a delicious flavor to
apple pie.
Polish tortoise shell with a paste
of jeweler's rouge and sweet oil. Let
this lie on the shell until dry; then
brush off and rub with chamois.
Put sugar in water used for basting
meats of all kinds. It adds flavor, '
especially to veal.
—
Devilled Liver.
This makes a good breakfast dish.
Chop some cold liver till very fine,
dredge with flour and stir in a table
spoonful of mustard, pepper, salt and
a cupful of good gravy. Stew slowly,
then add two hard-boiled eggs thinly
sliced, and serve on toast.
Accordion Plaited Blouse.
Accordion plaited blouses of soft
fabrics are much in vogue and are
gracefully charming worn by women
of slender figures. This one com- j
bines embroidered crepe de chine J
with a yoke and cuffs of lace, the lace !
all being finished with a narrow puff
ing of messaline satin, and is ex
ceedingly dainty and attractive, the
4680 Fancy Blouse, 32 to 40 bust.
material taking ideal folds. The drop
yoke, too, is a feature and extends
onto the sleeves in the fashionable
manner, while it forms a becoming
point at the front. The model is emi
nently simple and can be used over
the fitted lining or left unlined as
preferred, and, in addition, can be
either tucked or gathered in place
of accordion plaited. To make the
waist for a woman of medium size
will be required 5*4 yards 21, 4%
yards 27 or 2% yards 44 inches wide
when accordion plaited, 3% yards 21,
3*4 yards 27 or 2 yards 44 inches
widp when tucked or gathered, with
1% yards of all-over lace and % yard
of silk for belt.
A May Manton pattern, No 4680,
sizes 32 to 40, will be mailed to any
address on receipt of ten cents.
Little Change in White Goods.
In plain white goods there Is little
change from last year, aside from the
fact that thin airy things will have
the place of honor. Plain and em
broidered linens from very sheer to
very coarse weaves will be used for
gowns and shirt-waist suits. There
are several varieties of cotton eta
mines and mercerized materials of
many descriptions. Without hesita
tion one may buy dimities, French
and Parisian lawns, wash chiffons,
silk muslin and English nainsook;
while embroidered swisses in vari
ous-sized dots, in stripes or in floral
designs, are better style than for
many years past.
A SMART L ITTLE COAT.
Eton jackets make the smartest of
all ccats for th^handsomer suit3 and
are shown in most fascinating styles.
This one can be made with the fancy
collar and big sleeves or plain with
plain sleeves, but, in either case. In
trudes the fashionable vest. As
shown the material is tan colored
chiffon cloth with turn-over collar
and cuffs of velvet, cape collar of the
materiel overlaid with ecru Russian
lace, and the vest of white silk, dainty
lingerie frills finishing the sleeves.
The quantity of material required
for the medium size is 4 yards 21,
2% yards 44 or 2 yards 52 inches
wide with % yard of sjik for vest,
74 yard of velvet and Z /urds of lace
for frills.
A May Manton pattern, No. 4690,
sizes 22 to 42, will be mailed to any
address on receipt of ten cents.
,
. . .. . /*»(!,
As It Happens.
“Why do you rent?” asked the old
man. “Houses can be bought on easy
terms. Why don't you buy one?"
“Because,” replied the wise young
man. *Tve had three friends who
tried it. In each case they gave me
a pitying smile as they took posses
sion of their own homes. In each case
I was informed that the only way to
live was to quit paying rent. In each
case I saw the fortunate fellow neg
lecting his business in the spring in
an effort to get his taxes reduced; and
in each case an inquiry as to what
they were doing a few years later
brought the reply. ‘Trying to sell my
house.’ If it’s just the same to you.
I’ll continue to rent a little while
longer.”
Getting Even.
Patience—You say they quarreled?
Patrice--Yes, and she returned all
his gifts. And what do you suppose
he did?
“Can’t guess.”
“Sent her half a dozen boxes of face
powder, with a note explaining that
he thought he had taken at least that
much home on his coat since he knew
her.”
Perfectly Clear.
Tommy—Ma, what’s a stepirotk^r?
Tommy’s Mama—Why, if I shodd
die and father should marry again,
the lady would be a stepmother.
Tommy—O, I see. You’d step down
and out and she’d step in.—Indian
apolis Sentinel.
What They Have Done.
“Is there anything at all in flying
machines up to date?”
“Certainly.”
“How do you make it out?”
“There’s been a lot of money put
into them, hasn't there?"
“Of course.”
“Well, you haven’t heard of any 01
tt being taken out, have you? It’»
still there.”
Booming Business.
“That lobbyist seems to have a good
deal of money to spend,” remarked tht
first councilman,
“Yes," replied the other, “he’s work
ing for an ordinance to allow automo
biles unlimited speed.”
“Ah! in the interest of the autc
club?”
“No, the pndertaker’ trust”—Phil*
delphia Ledger.
A New Definition.
“You don't think the man was In
toxicated?”
“No, sir.”
“Why?”
“Because he eould keep his feet by
leaning against a wall without try
ing to get a grip on the bricks with
his fingers.”
1 " i
An Expensive Name.
“Darringer, what’s become of youi
friend? I haven’t seen you with him
for over a week.”
“I cut him! His name is Hava
drink, and every time I called him
that he said, ‘I don’t care if I do.
He was too expensive.”
Some Men’s Luck.
Stranger—So you went to school
with Rudolph Skipling, eh? I sup
pose you know he is now a famous
writer?
Uncle Fletch—Sho! Why, him an’
me used ther same copybook, an' 1
know my writin’ ’d beat his’n all
holler.
Comparison.
“Don’t you think it would be a good
idea for this government to conduct
more public enterprises?”
“I don’t know,” answered Senator
Sorghum, “grand juries are getting so
active and voters so inquisitive that
before long the chances for graft will
be just as good with a big private
enterprise as with the government.”
—Washington Star.
Henpeck's Fatal Shot.
“The Japanese,” said Mrs. Henpeclc,
‘seen to be a people of very f-jur
words.”
“Yes,” replied her husband as be
moved stealthily toward the dcor,
"and see how they are getting on.
Why don't you learn a lesson from
the Japs?”
Af/er the Tips.
“How attentive your waiters are to
that ostrich." remarked the lion to the
cashier of the Jungle restaurant. “I
never saw monkeys so polite before.”
“Yes,” remarked the beautiful tig
ress, who acted as cashier, “they wero
reading in the Jungle News ims morn
ing that ostrich tips are very valu
able.”
Her Misfortune.
"She’s such a big girl!”
"Yes. Isn’t it too bad? She never
HU be stole to talk of love in a cot*
Uge without making people largh.*
