A FOOL FOR LOVE
By FRANCIS LYNDE
author OF "THE GRAFTERS." etc.
(Copjrtgbi, im. t j J. i* igppisaou Cc-i
CHAPTER VIII.—Continued.
But Mr. Darrah cnatted on. affably
non-committal, and after a time Win
on began to upbraiu himself for sus
pecting the ulterior motive. By no
word or hint did the vice president
refer to the stn ggie pendent between i
the two companies or to the warlike
incident of the morning. And when
he finally rose to excuse himself on a
letter-writing plea, his leave-taking
was that of the genial host reluctant
to part company with his guest.
'Tve enjoyed your conve’sation.
>eh; enjoyed it right much. Most j
Jiappy to have had the pleasure or
your company, Misteh Winton. May I
hope you will faveh us often while ]
we are neighbors?”
Winton rose, made the proper ac- 1
icnowledgments. and would have
crossed the compartment to make his i
ielieux to Mrs. Carteret. But at that !
moment Virginia, taking advantage of i
Adams’ handshaking with the Rajah,
ame between.
“You re not going yet, are you, Mr. j
Winton? Don’t hurry. If you are '
iying to smoke a pipe, as Mr. Adams
-ays you are, we can go out on the
platform. It isn’t too cold, is it?”
Not the words themse ves, but uer
manner of saying them, warmed him
-so suddenly tnat an Arctic winter’s
night would not have been prohib
itory.
“It is clear and frosty, a beautiful j
night,” he hastened to say. “May I
aelp you with your coat?”
She suffered him. but in the height !
■f the heart-warming glow gave him J
j cold douche ir. a word to Bessie.
‘Won’t yn come. too. Bessie, dear?" !
she asked; and Winton set the w^iole '
battery of his will at wcrk to fend
oft the threatened calamity.
Happi.y, it averted itself. Miss Bes
sie was quite comfortable as she was
tnd begged to be excused. Mrs. Car
■eret in her capacity of chaperon
looked askance at \ irginia, was met
by a glance of the resolute brown eyes
which she had come to obey without
fully understanding, and contented
herself a monitory: “Don’t stay
out too long, Virginia. It is dreadful
!;• cold."
So presently Winton had his heart's |
desire, which was to be alone with
Virginia; alone, we say, though the !
privacy of tne square raj^ed platform !
was that of the ear only. For the
gathering-room of the Rosemary, with
its lights and eyes, gave directly upon
the rear platform through the two
fall-length windows and the glass
door.
Now in whatsoever aspect the moun
tain skyland presents itself—and its
aspects are numberless—that of a
starlit winter night, when the heaven
iights burn clear in a black dome for
which the mighty peaks themselves'
are the visible supports, is not the
least impressive. So. for a little I
rime, awe challenging awe in these
two had much in common, tongue and
lip were silent, and when they spoke
it was of the immensities.
"Does your profession- often open
such wide doors to you, Mr. Winton?" !
It gave him an exquisite thrill to j
know that her mood marched so even-!
;y with his own.
“Outside of the office work, which
l have always evaded when I could,
the doors are ail pretty wide. One ’
year I was on the Mexican boundary
survey—you can picture those silent!
nights in the desert. Another time
I was with the Geodetic on the coast; !
sinc-e that winter the booming of the
surf has been the constant undertone
for me in all music.”
“Ah, yes, in music. You must love
music if you can associate it with
•his.”
“I do, indeed. I would build it the
crandps t of the temples, though I
should be only a mute lay-worshiper
in It myself.”
She smiled. “That temple must al
ways have two high priests, one who
prophesies and one who interprets. I
•an't play without a sympathetic lis
tener.”
“I wish you might play for me
sometime. You would have to be very
exacting if you could find fault with
my appreciation."
“Would I? But we are riding away
on my hobby after we had fairly
mounted yours.”
He laughed. “Mine is only a heavy
cart-horse, not fit for riding,” he said.
“You shouldn't say that It is a
man's work—yours.” And he made
sure there was a note of regret in her
voice when she added: “No woman
ran ever share it with you. or help
you in it.”
"I should be sorry to believe that,”
he rejoined, quickly. “The best part
of any man's work may be shared by
the woman who wills—and dares.”
She gave him a flitting glance of
intelligence.
“How strangely chance whips us
about from post to pillar. Two even
ings ago I was foolish enough to—
well, you know what I did. And now
we have changed places and you are
telling me what a woman may do—if
she dare.”
But he would not admit the prem
ises. “If the one were foolish, so is
the other. But I can’t allow that to
stand. I shall always be the better
for what you said to me the other
evening.”
“I don't know why you should; you
didn’t need it in the least,” she pro
tested. "If I had known then what
1 know now, I should have said some
thing quite different.”
“Say it now, if you wish.”
“May I? But I have no right. Be
sides, it would sound like the basest
of recantations.”
“Would it? Nevertheless, I should
like'to hear it.”
She nerved herself for the plunge—
her uncle's plunge—doubting more
than ever.
"Your part in the building of this
other railroad is purely a business af
fair. is it not?”
“My personal interest? Quite so; a
mere matter of dollars and <rents. you
may say.”
She went on, entirely missing the
irony in his reply.
“You did not know the difficulties
before you came here?”
"Only in a general way. I knew
there was opposition, and—well. I'm
not just a novice in this sort of thing,
and if I may be allowed to boast a
little, I knew my appointment was
owing to Mr. Callowell’s belief in my
ability to carry it through.”
“You are not smoking." she said.
"Haven’t you your pipe1’” She was
finding it desperately hard to go on.
“If you don't mind.” he returned;
but when he had pipe and tobacco in
hand she plunged again.
“You say your interest in this other
railroad—your personal interest—is
only that cf—cf an employe. If you
should have another offer, from some
other company—”
He smiled. “Put yourself in my
place, Miss Virginia. What would
you do?”
She* tried to think it out. and in
the process the doubt grew and over
whelmed her.
“I—I don't know,” she faltered.
"If, as you say, it is only a question
of so much money to be earned—”
He started as if she struck him
with a whip.
“That is not your argument; it is
Mr. Darrah’s.” Then his voice took
a deeper tcne that thrilled her till
she wanted to cry out. “Don't say
you want me to give up; please don't
say that. I think I have been putting
“If we must; but not until I bare
thanked you for your timely hint of
yesterday morning. It saved me no
end of trouble.”
“The telegram? Mr. Adams sent
that. And besides, it was meant to bn
I a scolding.”
I "I have no doubt Adams sent the
j wire, but he didn’t write it. Or. if
he did, he also wrote our invitation
: to dinner. They are in the same
j hand, you know.”
She laughed again. “1 think it is
quite time we were going in.” she
averred, and he opened the door for
! her.
If Mr. John Winton, C. E.. stood in
need of a moral tonic, as Adams had
so delicately intimated to Miss Bessie
Carteret, it was administered in
quantity sufficient before he slept on
the night of dinner-givings.
For a clear-eyed Technologian, free
from all heart-trammelings and able
to grasp the unsentimental fact, the
enemy’s new plan of campaign wrote
itself quite legibly. With his pick
and choice among the time-killing ex
pedients the Rajah could scarcely
have found one mere to his purpose
than the private car Rosemary, in
cluding in its passenger list a Miss
Virginia Carteret. There would be
more dinners and social diversions:
other procrastinations like this of
neglecting to look after the consign
ment of steel—which, by the by. was
not yet to be seen or even definitely
heard from: and in the end. defeat.
All of which Adams, substituting
friendly frankness for the disciplinary
traditions of the service, set forth in
good Bostonian English for the benefit
and behoof of his chief, and was an
swered according to his deserts with
scoffings and deriding;;.
"I wasn't horn yesterday. Morty,
and I'm net so desperately asinine as
you seem to think.” was the besotted
one's summing up. "1 know the
Rajah doesn't split hairs in a busi
ness fight, hut he is hardly unscrupu
lous enough to use Miss Carteret as
a cat's-paw.”
But Adams would not be scoffed
aside.
“You’re off in your estimate of Mr.
Darrah, Jack, 'way off. I know the
HE OPENED THE DOOR FOR HER.
you on a pedestal these last two days.
Miss Carteret. You know well enough
what is involved—honor, integrity,
good faith, everything a man values,
or should value. I was only jegting
when I spoke of the day-pay; that is
nothing. I can't believe you would
ask such a sacrifice of me—of any
man.”
The brown eyes met his fairly, and
it was not Mr. Somerville Darrah’s
confederate who said: '‘Indeed. I do
not ask it, Mr. Winton. I see now
how impossible it would be for yon
to—” she stopped short, and leaving
the sentence in the air. began again.
“But it is only fair that you should
have your warning, and I’m going to
give it* to you. My uncle will leave
no stone unturned to defeat you.”
He was ? ill looking into her eyes,
and so had courage to say what came
uppermost.
“1 don't care. I shall fight him as
hard as I can. but I shall always be
his debtor for this evening. Do you
understand?”
She broke the eye-hold and turned
away quickly.
“You must not come again," she
said.
“But I shall—as often a3 I may.
| And as to the railway tussle, Mr.
Darrah may take it out of me as he
pleases from sunrise to sunset, if he
will only invite me here to dinnei
now and then.”
In a flash her mood changed and
she laughed lightly.
"Who would think if of you, Mr.
Winton! Of all men I should have
said you were the last to care so
much for the social diversions. Shall
we go in?”
tradition—that a southern gentleman
is all chivalry when it comes to a
matter touching his womankind, and
I don't controvert it as a general
proposition. But the Rajah has been
a fighting western railroad magnate
so long that his accent is about the
only southern asset he has retained.
If I’m any good at guessing, he will
stick at nothing to gain his end.”
Winton admitted the impeachment
without prejudice to his own point of
view.
“Perhaps you are right. But fore
warned is forearmed. And Miss Vir
ginia is not going to lend herself to
any such nefarious scheme.”
“Not consciously, perhaps; but you
don’t know her yet. If she saw a
good chance to take the conceit out of
you, she'd improve it—without think
ing overmuch of the possible conse
quences to the Utah company.”
“Pshaw!” said Vinton. "That IS
another of your literary inferences
I’ve met her only twice, yet I ven
ture to say I know her better than
you do. If she cared anything for me
i —which she doesn't—”
“Oh, go to sleep!” said Adams, who
I was not minded to argue further with
ja man besotted; and so the matter
went by default for the time.
It was very deftly done, and even
| Adams, the clear-eyed, could not help
admiring the Rajah's skillful finesse.
Of formal dinner-givings there might
easily have been an end, since the
construction camp had nothing to
offer in return. But. the formalities
were studiously ignored, and the two
young men were put upon a footing
of intimacy and encouraged to come
and go as they pleased.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
TOO MUCH FOR OSLER
When the Maharajah Gaekwar of - The computation fsiemed to amuse
Baroda visited the congressional li- the prince. “And what would your
brarv in Washington he was naturally Dr. Osier say to that?” he inquired.—
greatly interested in that vast and N. Y. Tribune,
excellent collection of books. _ ._ 77 7-- .
“How long.” he asked Herbert Put- _ Tribu\es * D*P*rt«L „
nam. “would It take a man to read all t.Corn and bread arfe 8tilL°ffered by
these books?” Mr. Putnam smilingly b* P£ , ^ “
replied that no one could ever begin tbe dear depa*ed °f tbeir deatb «
to read all. the books in the library, A traveler m Spain de
some2,000.000 in number. Then he made s"ibes how’ at San :sebastlan- he ha'’
a rough calculation. He told the ma- s°me . ,,oor fisherman’s
'zs.'zsrrsrzs:«suns tisv«
no man. in the course of the average . ,, , , .
lifetime of 70 years, could read more l™11' loares of bread and ,c°rn’ and
than 8.000 books. Therefo-.-e, figuring kn£e “lf upon 1116 t’omb of her *°*
on 2,000,000 in the library at congress, 068 or8, _
a man would have to have 250 life- ■ a homing pigeon which was sent to
times of 70 years each to get through* the Isle of Man two years and four
with all of the books, and that would months ago returned to its borne cote
mean 17,500 years. tn Blackburn, England, recently.
HEAD OF U. S. ARMY QUITS.
-IEUT. GEN. CORBIN GOES ON
THE RETIRED LIST.
Has Been in Active Service for 44
Years—Will Be Succeeded by
Gen. MacArthur, Another Vet
eran 'of Two Wars.
Washington.—Lieut. Gen. Henry C.
Corbin. U. S. A., chief of staff and
lately in charge of the northern divis
ion of the army, with headquarters in
St. Louis, has been placed on the re
tired list. Gen. Arthur MacArthur will
succeed him as lieutenant general and
chief of staff and Gen. A. W. Greely
will succeed him in command in the
western city.
Gen. Corbin succeeded Gen. Bates
as lieutenant general of the army in
April last. He has been in active ser
vice since the year 1862, when he en
tered the volunteer army as second
lieutenant of the Eighty-third Ohio
infan try.
During the civil war the Ohio sol
dier rose to the rank of brevet briga
dier general of volunteers. When the
forces were recalled from the field
Gen. Corbin was appointed to the reg
ular service as a second lieutenant of
the Seventeenth infantry. In 1880 he
was transferred to the adjutant gen
eral's department, and he remained at
tached to that branch of the service,
in name at least, until he became a
lieutenant general.
For several years Gen. Corbin was
stationed in Chicago. He was a lieu
tenant colonel and assistant adjutant
general of the then division of the
Missouri, when Gen. Miles command
ed, with headquarters in Chicago.
The last Sioux war broke out in
December, 1S90, and Col. Corbin ac
companied Gen. Miles to South Dako
ta, where headquarters were estab
lished in the field. At this time
' Miles and Corbin apparently were
good friends, but afterward, when the
former was promoted to the command
of the army and the latter was made
adjutant general, they clashed, and
their differences at the Spanish war
time were the subject of public com
ment.
Lieut. Gen. Corbin was the first of
ficer of that rank since the general
staff was formed who did not take
the position of its chief. He preferred
to take command elsewhere than in
Washington, and he was assigned to
the northern division of the army,
with headquarters in St. Louis.
The general married a few years
ago for the second time. He has built
a handsome residence in Washington
and will reside in this city in the fu
ture.
By direction of the president com
missions have been prepared for Gen.
MacArthur to be lieutenant general.
Brig. Gen. Jesse M. Lee to be major
general asd CapL John J. Pershing to
be brigadier general. These promo
tions are made to fill vacancies inci
dent to the retirement of Corbin.
Gen. J. Franklin Bell, who is the
senior brigadier general, waived the
promotion to the higher grade in ordei
to give Gen. Lee an opportunity tc
reach it before he retired. Gen. Lee
will retire next January and there
would have been no vacancy in the
grade of major general before that
date had Gen. Beil been appointed.
! Gen. MacArthur is now commanding
the division of the Pacific and will
! continue in that position.
' Gen. Lee is now in command of the
department of the Visayas. His pro
motion makes three major generals
in the Philippines. It is expected that
! 1_I--._I
GEN. HENRY C. CORBIN.
(Chief of Staff of Army Who Has
Been Placed on Retired List.)
he will be given a command in the
! United States. Gen. Pershing is now
| the military attache at the American
embassy in Japan and it is expected
that he will be given another assign
ment. He is a son-in-law of Senator
Warren of Wyoming.
Gen. MacArthur is a veteran of two
I wars, having won distinction in the
civil war and in the Philippines. He
} was born in Massachusetts, was taken
! by his parents to Milwaukee in his in
fancy. and there attended the public
schools. At the age of 17 he was
made first lieutenant in the Twenty
fourth Wisconsin, and* when the civil
war ended he was brevet colonel. For
l^eroic actions he won promotion at
| various times, and for bravery at Mis
i sionary Ridge received a congression
al medal. Entering the regular army,
he-was made brigadier general of vol
unteers in 1898 and speedily was pro
moted to be major general. From 1898
until 1901 he commanded in the Phil
ippines, and later was at the head of
the department of the lakes, subse
quently commanding the division of
the Pacific. He will be retired under
the age limitation statute June 2,
1909.
WEST POINT CADET A HERO.
Endures Two Months of Remarkable
Suffering to Return to Academy.
West Point.—Cadet J. Walter Wilde,
of Hazleton, has returned to West
Point, which he never expected to en
J. WALTER WILDE.
(West Point Cadet Who Went
Through Tortures to Be a Soldier.)
ter again. He returns with the repu
tation of a hero, for he has proved
that he has been able to bear the most
excruciating suffering with fortitude,
and all for love of the service of Uncle
Sam.
Cadet Wilde was appointed in the
spring of 1905 by President Roosevelt.
Last fall while at home on a visit his
horse fell, relied on him and broke his
leg. After it was set and healed it
had shrunk several inches. The de
formity prevented his reentering to
the academy.
Broken hearted, he went to see emi
nent physicians. They told him there
was only one way in which the leg
could be restored to the normal length,
and they did not believe it possible
any man could stand the pain of the
operation. It would la3t for weeks and
weeks.
Wilde declared he would stand any
thing in order to get back to West
Point, so last March he went to the
Polyclinic hospital in Philadelphia.
Dr. John B. Roberts rebroke the leg.
put it in a plaster-of-paris cast, hoist
ed at right angles with the boy's re
cumbent body, and to it by means of
pulleys was fastened 300 pounds.
Wilde's body was strapped to the bed
so that the weight would not lift him
up.
In that position, unable to move,
with the weight dragging constantly
at every muscle and tendon in his leg,
he lay for two months. The pain was
intense and constant; for days at first
he could not sleep. Later he managed
to obtain some restless naps. But he
bore his sufferings with great fortitude
and never whimpered. He was strong
in the faith that the operation would
be successful and that he would be
able to return to West Point.
His faith was justified. At the end
of two months the leg was found to
have been stretched to its normal
length. Then his recovery was rapid
and now there is in his walk no evi
dence that he was ever injured.
Breaking the Compact.
Miffkins (to employer)—No, sir, I
don't think there's anything unreason
able in my asking for an increase of
my salary. You may remember you
promised me a rise when I had been
with you a year.
Employer—I know I did. but, hang
it all, didn't I make it conditional upon
your giving me every satisfaction?
Miffkins—And in what way, sir.
haven't I given you satisfaction?
Employer (furiously)—Satisfaction.
===== —
indeed! l?you call bothering me for
more wages giving me every satisfac
tion, eh?
Belief.
“You should cultivate a more cheer
ful disposition.” said Mr. Cheerup. "Be
lieve in the honesty of human na
! ture.”
“Yes,” answered the man with the
acid countenance; "most everybody
j does till he has indorsed notes for a
! few people."—Washington Star.
FATHER BIRD GIVES HELP.
Cedar Birds Nest So Late Both Birds
Have to Sit on the Eggs.
In the Cat?-;I1 mountains a pair of
Cedar waxwings were found sitting as
late as the fifth of September.
I had seen one of the pair on the
nest during the daytime in the latter
part of August, and thought it must
be very cold to hatch eggs. The
weather was then between freezing
and temperate in early morning. In
September it seemed impossible that
any bird could sit on eggs in a nest
in an exposed place.
Going to the nest one evening, I
found both of the waxwings upon it.
The nest was plainly in view in a low
cedar tree and, seeing them from
every side, I made sure that both birds
were actually inside the hollow of the
nesL
I found that the birds thus sat to
gether from late afternoon, when it be
gan to grow colder, until early the fol
lowing morning, when it began to
grow warmer, and sometimes during
the middle of extra cold days.
On September 4 only one wax wing
was on the nest at a quarter to six p.
m. About five minutes later the other
came to a cedar near by; he soon flew
to the nes{ and, after much turning
about on top of it, finally settled down
on the back of the other bird or at any
rate inside the nest. The next day the
heads of two young waxwings showed
over the edge of the nest. They seemed
three or four days old, and one of
their parents was brooding them.—SL
Nicholas.
Bee's Care of Its Young.
A species of bee, called the “clo
thier,” covers its nest of eggs with a
cloth made from the woody fiber of
plants, and thus preserves its young
from sudden changes of temperature.
Uncle Allen.
“Many a man," said Uncle Allen
Sparks, “dates all of his reverses
from the evening when his best girl
turned him down.”
Result of Worry.
A man’s hair, as a rule, turn.** gray
five years sooner than a woman's.
The Etiquette of the
English Royal Household
Glimpse of the Manner of Life of the Functionaries of the
Kins and Queen
The outside world knows very little
of the inner life, of the ordering and
working of the vast machinery of the
English royal household, which must
indeed go with ciocklike precision to
insure that absence of confusion
which is absolutely imperative. There
are several hundred persons on the
staff, each one of whom has a clearly
defined duty, from which he seldom
deviates, for court etiquette, taken on
the whole, is precise and formal, and
many observances which prevailed in
previous generations still hold good,
the same things, in fact, being done
in the same way.
There are several departments ap
pertaining to their majesties' house
holds, the head of each one being re
sponsible to the monarchs for the due
performance of duty by every indi
vidual under his or her authority, and
there are offices which are depart
ments in themselves. Needless to
say, each responsible person must pos
sess the highest qualifications for his
Then there is the master of the
horse, and it is interesting to note
that he takes rank really as the third
great officer of the court, and has en
tire superintendence of the stables.
The office of “mistress" is always
held by a duchess, and is vacant each
time a minister retires. The duties
are rendered chiefly on state occa
sions, when the mistress rides imme
diately in front of her majesty, walk-*
ing in close attendance in any pro
cession. She also stands or sits near
the queen at royal courts, state con
certs and balls: while for the last
named she is often called upon to
take part in the royal set of the open
ing quadrille. The mistress also
looks over, passes, and signs the bills
for her majesty's wardrobe, and also
signs ail warrants issued for this de
partment.
Of course there are a number of of
ficials of the royal households whose
offices are almost sinecures, such as
the state pages, gentlemen ushers.
Singing and Playing to Her Majesty, the Queen.
post, and an abundance cf tact in his
dealing with all persons with whom
he comes in contact.
The lord chamberlain, as is known
by many, is a prominent figure at all
state ceremonies, and at their majes
ties’ court he it is who makes the
actual presentations—that is, reads
out the names of the presentees to
the king1. But there are many other
duties connected with his lordship
that the public knows nothing about;
for instance, he and his department
have the absolute charge of all the
furniture and fittings of each palace.
Needless to say, this is a very onerous
charge and a most accurate system
of detail is requisite. Every article
within the palaces is entered in a
huge volume, one of a series styled
"inventories” — at Windsor Castle
alone there are 50 such—in the pages
of which appear particulars of origin,
description, and artistic value, to
gether with date of acquisition. Noth
ing whatever which comes under the
category of furniture or fittings is re
ceived in or sent out of the royal res
idences without the signature of the
lord chamberlain’s deputy. The lord
chamberlain also has complete control
of all officials coming under the title
“above stairs,” this including the
chaplains and physicians, the singers
and musicians as well as a clerical
staff. The lorr chamberlain holds a
permanent post, not going out with
his party as do certain others—such,
for instance, as the lord steward.
The master cf ceremonies, another
great official, really comes very little
upon the scene, except at state func
tions; but it is his special province
to introduce to his majesty visiting
or newly appointed ambassadors and
other persons of great note.
Each monarch has a private sec
retary, whose duty it is to open all
correspondence and deal with it, the
only exception being such as have
the hall-mark of relationship or the
“cousinship” of friendly monarchs.
pages-of-honor, etc.; these only ap
pear at court ceremonies during the
season, or at the opening of parlia
ment. But there are numbers of oth
ers who take their turns in very act
ive duties, these being lords-in-waiting,
grooms-in-waiting, esquerries. maids
of-honor, and women of the bed
chamber. The lords-in-waiting and
the esquerries are in close attend
ance on the king, the esquerries also
riding on each side of his majesty's
carriage in state processions. These
gentlemen may be called upon to help
receive distinguished guests at the
castle or palace, or receive alone those
of lesser standing, and in many in
stances conduct guests to assigned
apartments. A lord-in-waiting would
receive a bishop or a nobleman of
high degree, while commoners would
be received by an equerry. And the
degree of rank regulates whether a
guest should be met at the station,
the palace entrance, or merely re
ceived in a saloon.
The same rule applies to her ma
jesty's household, save that Hon.
Charlotte Kncillys, woman of the bed
I chamber, who is always in attend
ance on the queen, does the major
part of the reception of her majesty’s
lady visitors. Miss Knollys also does
much of the queen’s correspondence,
at any rate that of a personal nature’
| while some of the other is done by
the maids-of-honor. who also wait'
! upon the queen. These young ladies
: have to undergo very special training5
to fit them for their posts. They must
be fluent linguists, accomplished mu
sicians (a part of their duty being
to sing ani play to her majesty), good
elocutionists <a3 they are often re
quested to read aloud), expert horse
women. and clever drivers, and must
have a knowledge of a variety of out
door and indoor accomplishments and
games. They are also occasionally
deputed to pay visits which the queen
cannot pay in person.
MARY SPENCER WARREN.
lOOOOOCOOOOOCOOOOOOOOOOOOOa*
OMITS HIS MAIDEN SPEECH.
New Member of the Commons Taught
a Lesson by Constituents.
Few people have any idea how close
is the watch kept ty earnest constitu
ents upon the parliamentary perform
ances of their representatives. About
three months after the house met this
year a new member, a friend of mine,
went down to his constituency. He
had not made his maiden speech at
the time, but he attached little im
portance to that, thinking that prob
ably he was more conscious of the
fact than was anyone else. He was
soonwmdeceived. for the porter who
took ®is bag at the station remarked
directly the honorable gentleman
stepped from the train:
“Haven’t had the pleasure of read
ing your maiden speech yet, sir—we’re
looking out for it.’’
My friend had to make a polite and
pleasant answer, for the porter was a
most energetic electioneerer. Then
nearly everyone he met began with
the accusing formula: “Haven't had
—r-^nrimrirnrirnrmi^roiMju
the pleasure—” until he was nearly
mad'
The climax was reached when he
asked a policeman the way to some
place, and the constable hating in
most official manner replied: “First
to the right and second to the left,**
changed his tone and looking severely
at the poor man began: "Haven’t had
the pleasure—” And at this my friend
fled.
He told met afterward that he be
lieved the feliow was fumbling for the
handcuffs. The result was that the
honorable gentleman came back to the
house determined to jump up all day
and all night whenever a speech was
finished, whatever the subject was,
until he had said something or other.
His chance came at last when he was
quite exhausted and when he had real
ly nothing to say. So he said noth
ing at considerable length—and now
he is quite a hero in his constituency
—M. A. P.
-v
A fine specimen of a leopard, which
killed and partly ate 21 sheep in one
night, has been trapped on the coast
of Mozambique.