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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 28, 1907)
BOB HAMPTON , <PLACER By MVMU PAJUHSHAUTHOROT* 'mmm&mM i/fonj 'Himcium'frc CCPy&Kf/T TOPS ffyA C.HfiCLLA}G scv SYNOPSIS. A detachment of tin* Kighteenth in fantry from Fort lirthunt- irappra! by Indians in a naxro* gorge. A inong them is a stranger who mtrudui**s himself by i he name of Hampton. also Glllis the ?H>st trader, and his daughter. Giilis and t majority of the soldiers ai>* kille«l dur ing a threv days’ siege. Hampton and J he girl only eg up*- from the Indians. They fall exhausted on the plains. A ’ * ompany of the Seventh cavalry. LiruL 4 Brant in command, find them. Hampton end the girl stop at the Miners’ Home in ^ ilencaid. Mrs. Huffy, p/oprietess. Hamp f>n talks the future ov**r with Miss Gil iis—the Kid. She shows him her moth * «'s picture and tells him wliat she can •I her parentage and life. They decide lie shall live? with Mrs. Herndon. Nalda * he Kid—runs away from Mrs. Herndon’s ml rejoins Hampton. CHAPTER VIII. Continued. He extended his hand, and drew her j up beside him into the shaded corner. ! Well,” lie said, “tell me the truth.” } ■'I've quit, that’s all. Bob. 1 just i couldn't stand reform any longer, and | so I’ve come back here to yon.” The man drew a deep breath. ‘‘Didn't vou like Mrs. Herndon?” ’’Oh, she's all right enough, so far as J ihat goes. 'T ain't that; only 1 just ^ didn’t like some things she said and did.” “Kid,” and Hampton straightened up, his voice growing stern. “I’ve got 0 know the straight of this. You say > ou like Mrs. Herndon well enough, ut not some other tilings. What were ihoy?” The girl hesitated, drawing back a little from him until the light from the saloon fell directl> across her face. Well,” she declared, slowly, “you see it had to be either her or—or you. Bob, and I’d rather it would be you." “You mean she said you would have • > cut me out entire!., if you stayed there with her?” She nodded, her eyes filled with en . treaty. “Yes, that was about it. 1 wasn’t ever to have anything more to do with you. not even to speak to you 1 we met—and after you'd saved my life, too.” “Never mind about that little-affair, Kid,” and Hampton rested his hand gently on her shoulder. "That was all in the day's work, and hardly counts or much anyhow Was that all she -aid?” “She called yqu a low-down gambler, a gun-fighter, a—a miserable barroom thug, a—a murderer. She—she said • hat if I ever dared to speak to you again. Bob Hampton, that I could leave her house. I jU3t couldn't stand for j ihat. so I came away.” Hampton never stirred, his teeth set deep into his cigar, his hands elinched about the railing. "The fool!” , he' muttered half aloud, then caught 1 his breath quickly. “Now see here,! v Kid," and he turned her about so that ' he might look down into her eyes, ' i’m mighty glad you like me well •nough to put up a kick, but if all this is true about me. why shouldn’t she *ay it? Do you believe that sort of a fellow would prove a very good kind to look after a young lady?" “I ain't a young lady!” "No; well, you're going to be if I have my way, and I don't believe the sort of a gent described would be very apt to help you much in getting there." "You ain't all that.” I “Well, perhaps npt. Like an ama teur artist, madam may have laid the •colors on a little thick. But I am no winged angel. Kid, nor exactly a model for you to copy after. I reckon you better stick to the woman and cut me." She did not answer, yet he read an unchanged purpose in her eyes, and his own decision strengthened. Some instinct led him to do the right thing; — he drew forth the locket from beneath he folds of her dress, holding it open to the light. He noticed now a name . ngraven on the gold case, and bent lower to decipher the delicate lettering. “Was her name Naida?” he ques tioned, sharply. “It is an uncommon wora. •Yes." Their eyes met, and those of both l ad perceptibly softened. "Xaida," his lips dwelt upon the peculiar name as though he loved the sound. “I want you to listen to me, child. I sincerely wish I might keep you here with me, but I can't. You are more to me than you dream, but it . would not be right for me thus delib " erately to sacrifice your whole future io my pleasure. I possess nothing to offer you,—no home, no friends, no reputation. Practically I am an out law, existing by my wits, disreputable in the eyes of those who are worthy to live in the world. She. who was your mother, would never wish you to re main with me. She would say I did right in giving you up into the care of a good woman. Naida. look on that face in the locket, your mother’s face. It is sweet, pure, beautiful, the face of a good, true woman. Living or dead, it must be the prayer of those lips that you become a good woman also. She should lead you, not I, for I am un worthy. For her sake, and In her name. I ask you to go back to Mrs. Herndon." He could perceive the gathering tears in her eyes, and his hand closed tight ly about her own. It was not one soul alone that struggled. "You will go?” “O Bob, I wish you wasn't a gam bler!" A moment he remained silent. “But unfortunately I am.” he admitted, so urly, “and It is best for you to go back. Won’t you?” Her gaze was fastened upon the open locket, the fair face pictured there smiling up at her as though in k pleading also. * ‘You truly think she would wish it?” “I know she would." The girl gave utterance to a quick, startled breath, as If the vision fright ened her. “TIM | will go,” she said, her voice a mere whisper, “I will go.” - * ■■ ;..V £ : ' . He led her down the steps, out into the jostling crowd below, as if she had been some fairy princess. Her locket hung dangling, and he slipped it back into its place and drew her slender form vet closer against his own, as they stepped forth into the black, de serted road. Half-way up the gloomy 1 ravine they met a man and woman i coming along the narrow path. Hump ton drew her aside out of their way, then spoke coldly. "Mrs. Herndon, were you seeking your lost charge? 1 have her here.” The two passing figures halted, peer ing through the darkness. "I was not seeking her,” she re turned. icily. "I have no desire to cul tivate the particular friends of Mr. , Hampton.” “So I have understood, and conse quently relinquish here and now all claims upon Miss Gillis. She has in formed me of . our flattering opinion regarding me, and 1 have indorsed it as being mainly true to life. Do I state this fairly. Xnida?” “I have come back.” she faltered, fingering the chain at her throat, "I ! have come back." “Without Bob Hampton?" The girl glanced uneasily toward him, but he stood motionless in the gloom. j “Yes—I—I supi>ose 1 must." Hampton rested bis hand softly upon i her shoulder, his fingers trembling, al [ though his voice remained coldly de j liberate. 'T trust this is entirely satisfactory. , Mrs. Herndon." he said. “I can assure i you i know absolutely nothing regard Three men sat at the single table, cards in hand, and Hampton invol untarily whistled softly behind his teeth at the first glimpse of the money openly displayed before them. This was apparently not so bad for a start er, and his waning interest revived. A red-bearded giant, sitting so as to face the doorway, glanced up quickly at his entrance, his coarse mouth instantly taking on the semblance of a smile. “Ah, Bob,” he exclaimed, with an evident effort at cordiality; “been won dering if you wouldn't show up before the night was over. You're the very fellow to make this a four handed af fair, provided you carry sufficient stuff.” Hampton came easily forward into the full glow of the swinging oil lamp, his manner coolly deliberate, his face expressionless. “I feel no desire to in trude," he explained, quietly, watching the uplifted faces. “I believe I have never before met these gentlemen.” Slavin laughed, his great white fingers drumming the table. “It is an acquaintance easily made.” he said, “provided one can afford to trot in their class, for it is money that talks at this table to-night. Mr. Hamp ton. permit me to present Judge Hawes, of Denver, and Mr. Edgar Wil lis, president of the T. P. & R. I have no idea what they are doing in this hell-hole of a town, but they are dead-! game sports, and I have been trying ; my best to amuse them while they're here.” Hampton bowed, instantly recogniz ing the names. ■ “Glad to assist,” he murmured, sink ing into a vacant chair. “What limit?” "We have had no occasion to discuss that matter as yet," volunteered Hawes, sneeringlv. "However, if you have scruples we might settle upon something within reason." Hampton ran the undealt i>ack care lessly through his fingers, his lips smiling pleasantly. “Oh. never mind, if it chances to go above my pile I'll drop out. Meanwhile, I hardly believe there is any cause for you to be mod est on my account.” The play opened quietly and with some restraint, the faces of the men remaining impassive, their watchful glances evidencing nothing either ol success or failure. Hampton played with extreme caution for some time, his eyes studying keenly the others about the table, seeking some deeper understanding of the nature of his op x - - X “Now, Damn You! If You Feel Like It, Laugh." ing her purpose of coming to me to night. I realize quite clearly my own deficiencies, and pledge myself here after not to interfere with you in any way. You accept the trust. I believe?” She gave utterance to a deep sigh of resignation. ‘ It comes to me clearly as a Christian duty," she acknowl edged, doubtfully, “and I suppose I must take up my cross; but—” “But you have doubts.” he interrupt ed. “Well, I have none, for I have greater faith in the girl, and—perhaps in God. Good night, Naida." He bowed above the hand the girl gave him in the darkness, and ever after she believed he bent lower, and pressed his lips upon it. The next mo ! ment the black night had closed him | out, and she stood there, half fright j ened at she knew not what, on the threshold of her new life. CHAPTER IX. At the Occidental. Hampton slowly picked his way back through the darkness down the silent road, his only guide those dim yellow lights flickering in the distance. It was Saturday night, and the min ing town was already alive. The one long, irregular street was jammed with constantly moving figures, the numer oua saloons ablaze. the pianos sound ing noisily, the shuffling of feet in the crowded dance-halls Incessant. Riot reigned unchecked, while the quiet, sleepy town of the afternoon blossomed under the flickering lights into a saturnalia of unlicensed pleas ure, wherein the wages of sin were death. Hampton pushed his way through the noisy throng with eyes ever watch ful for the faces. “Anything going on to-night worth while, Jim?” he questioned, quietly. “Rather stiff game, they tell me, jnst started in the back room," was the genial reply. “Two eastern suckers, with Red Slavin sitting in.” The gambler passed on, pushing rather unceremoniously through the throng of perspiring humanity. The large front room upstairs was ablaze with lights, every game la full opera tion aad surrounded by crowds of de votees. He walked directly toward the rear of the room. A thick, dingy red curtain hang there; he held back Its heavy folds aad stepped within the smaller apartment beyond. ponents, their strong and weak points, and whether or not there existed any prior arrangement between them. He was there for a purpose, a clearly de fined purpose, and he felt no inclina tion to accept unnecessary chances with the fickle Goddess of Fortune. To one trained in the calm observation of small things, and long accustomed to weigh his adversaries with care, it was not extremely difficult to class the two strangers, and Hampton smiled softly on observing the size of the rolls rather ostentatiously exhibited by them. His satisfaction was in noways lessened by the sound of their voices, when incautiously raised in anger over some unfortunate plSy. He im mediately recognized them as the iden tical individuals who had loudly and vainly protested over his occupancy of the best rooms at the hotel. He chuckled grimly. But what bothered him particularly was Slavin. The cool, gray eyes, glanc ing with such apparent negligence across the cards in his hands, noted every slight movement of the red bearded gambler, in expectation of de tecting some sign of trickery, or some evidence that he had been selected by this precious trio for the purpose of easy plucking. Knavery was Slavin's style, but apparently he was now playing a straight game, no doubt real izing clearly, behind his impassive mask of a face, the utter futility of seeking to outwit one of Hampton's enviable reputation. It was, unquestionably, a fairly fought four-handed battle, and at last, thoroughly convinced of this, Hamp ton settled quietly down, prepared to play out his game. The stakes grew steadily larger. Several times drinks were served, but Hampton contented himself with a gulp of water, always gripping an unlighted cigar between his teeth. He was playing now with apparent recklessness, never hesitat ing over a card, his eye as watchful as that of a hawk, his betting quick, con fident, audacious. The contagion of his spirit seemed to affect the others, to force them into desperate wagers. The perspiration was beading Slavin’s forehead, and now and then an oatji burst unrestrained from his hairy lips. Hawes and Willis sat white-faced, bent forward anxiously over the table, their fingers shaking as they handled the fateful cards, but Hampton played without perceptible tremor, his utter ances few and monosyllabic, his calm face betraying not the faintest emo tion. And he was steadily winning. Occa sionally some other hand drew in the growing stock of geld and bank notes, but not often enough to offset those continued gains that began to heap up In such an alluring pile upon his por tion of the table. The lookers-on who had come in began to observe this, and gathered more closely about his chair, fascinated by the luck with which the cards came floating into his hands, the cool judgment of his critical plays, the reckless abandon with which he forced success. Suddenly he forced the fight to a finish. The opportunity came In a jack-pot which Hawes had opened. The betting began with a cool thou sand. Then Hampton's turn came. Without drawing, his cards yet lying downward before him on the board, his calm features as immovable as the Sphinx, he quietly pushed his whole accumulated pile to the center, named the sum. and leaned back In his chair, his eyes cold, impassive. Hawes threw down his hand, wiping his streaming face with his handkerchief: Willis counted his remaining roll, hesi tated, looked again at the faces of his cards, flung aside two. drawing to fill, and called loudly for a show-down, his eyes protruding. Slavin, cursing fiercely under his red beard, having drawn one card, his perplexed face In stantly brightening as he glanced at it. went back into his hip pocket for every cent he had. and added his pro fane demand for a chance at the money. A fortune rested on the table, a for tune the ownership of which was to be decided in a single moment, and by the movement of a hand. Willis was gasping, his whole body quivering; Slavin was watching Hampton's hands as a cat does a mouse, his thick lips parted, his fingers twitching nervously. The latter smiled grimly, liis motion deliberate, his eyes never wavering. Slowly, one by one. he turned up his cards, never even deigning to glance downward, his entire manner that of unstudied indifference. One—two— three. Willis uttered a snarl like a stricken wild beastt, and sank back in his chair, his eyes closed, his cheeks ghastly. Four. Slavin brought down his great clenched first with a crash on the table, a string of oaths bursting unrestrained from his lips. Five. Hampton, never stirring a muscle, sat there like a statue, watching. Hts right hand kept hidden beneath the table, with his left he quietly drew in the stack of hills and coin, pushing the stuff heedlessly into the side pocket of his coat, his gaze never once wander ing from those stricken faces fronting him. Then he softly pushed back his chair and stood erect. Willis never moved, but Slavin rose unsteadily to his feet, gripping the table fiercely with both hands. ‘‘Gentlemen,'' said Hampton, grave ly, his clear voice sounding like the sudden peal of a bell, "I can only thank you for your courtesy in this matter, and bid you all good-night. However, before I go it may be of some interest for me to say that 1 have played my last game.” Somebody laughed sarcastically, a harsh, hateful laugh. The speaker whirled, took one step forward; there was the flash of an extended arm, a dull crunch, and Red Slavin went crashing backward against the wall. As he gazed up, dazed and bewildered, from the floor, the lights glimmered along & blue-steel barrel. “Not a move, you red brute," and Hampton spumed him contemptuously with his heel. “This is no variety show, and your laughter was in poor taste. However, if you feel particu larly hilarious to-night I’ll give you another chance. I said this was my last game; I'll repeat it—this was my last game! Now, damn you! if you feel like It, luugh!” (TO BE CONTINUED.) Woman and Her Worries. Fair Sex Criticized by a Writer in' English Magazine. _ It may fairly be said that women have only themselves to blame for a very considerable proportion of do mestic worry, with its consequences of irritability and bad temper, leading to worse things, says a writer in Cas sell’s Magazine. Even after fully rec ognizing that the ordinary housewife' is specially subject, at any rate, at times, to unavoidable worry, we must sorely grant that the common prae-I tice of living op to the very limit of one’s means, if not beyond it, is re sponstble for a great deal of woman’s •wry that might be avoided. One says, especially, woman's worry, be cause it would appear that the wife, rather than the husband, is more often responsible for the neglect of that margin of income which, as Mr. Micawber knew, spells happiness. Hence it is worth while yet again to point out the commonplace facts— that the happiness attained by keep ing three servants when you can af ford two ia most lamentably out weighed. not merely by the worry in volved in the incessant effort to make both ends meet, but also by the con sequences of that worry on sleep, health, digestion and temper—these, •Cain, injuring every member of tbs (unily and possibly tending to ite at ter destruction. The Dark Skinned Woman's tAchievements Ey Marion E. Stockton Woman’s Share in Early Art— Even the Primitive Woman Had Certain "Rights”—Brilliant Dark Haired Heroines of the Past— Women Aid in Founding a Re ligion—Seme Interesting Facts About What Has Been Accom plished by the Sisters of the Pale Faced Races The Important Part they Played in Early Civilization. V___J (Copyright, by Joseph B. Bowies.) (Marian E. Stockton, widow of the late popular story writer, Frank R. Stockton, was closely associated with the work of her gifted husband. Any reader of the ■ "Rudder Grange” stories, for example will realize that she was a valuable as sistant to him. She was joint author with him in writing "The Home,” one of his earlier books. Mrs. Stockton is a member of a prominent South Carolina family.) So much has been written about women of the fair-skinned races, of their part in the making of the his tory of the world, of what they have done and ought not to have done, of what they are doing and ought not to do and to what they should do, that it. may be of interest to catch here and there in this world’s history what their dark-skinned sisters have done in bringing about the conditions of the life we are now living and the so cial. religious and geographical dis tinctions which prevail at present. It is not my intention in this article to exploit the famous dark-skinned women of recorded history—we will glance at them in their proper places. They were types, it is true, but they could not have been and have acted their great parts had not the wom en whom they represented been endowed, in some measure, with their gifts. Such women do not spring full fledged from a sordid environment. But they were exceptional and individual in their careers; and, after all, it Is from the ordinary women of a race or nation that progress comes. The portraits the ethnologists give us of the primitive woman are not captivating, but the poets represent her as being almost divine, floating in ethereal beauty fresh from the hand of her Creator. Whether the scientist has arrived at the truth through long and laborious stages of investigation, or whether the poet has divined the truth through inspiration. I do not pretend to decide. But they are both agreed upon one thing—that her com plexion was of a "sun-kissed” hue ac cording to the latter and of a "dark pigment,” according to the other. From the investigations of science and the reports of explorers, and from other sources we have a good deal of information, if not in relation to this very primitive woman to her not dis tant descendants in a state of sav agery. And even in the very lowest of these primeval races we find that women played an important part. They were slaves, it is true, because they knew nothing better. If they had had the least glimmering sense of woman’s rights they were quite capable of asserting themselves even at that period of time. And here it may be well to correct a misapprehension. Men did not make slaves and beasts of burden of their women merely be cause the man was wicked or lazy, or both—they had affection (of a sort) for their wives. But they realized with great force that man was a su perior being, the lord of the earth and all it contained, including woman, and that she was an afterthought of the gods created for his benefit, and therefore made of very inferior ma terial. Consequently it was consid ered as degrading in a man to do wom an’s work as it is now for him to wear petticoats. If it chanced that it came into a man’s mind to relieve his weary wife of some part of the load she was carrying on her back, he would reject the thought instantly, not so much be cause he did not want the burden, as because by so doing he would make himself the laughing stock of the tribe. And what did these mighty lords of creation do toward the improvement of the world they claimed? Absolutely nothing! Fishing, hunting, trapping, fighting, the necessities of the pres ent; the implements to accomplish these purposes, and there the record ends. Meantime, as the years went on and generation succeeded genera tion, the women were using their brains and improving social life with all sorts of inventions to assist them in their manifold labors and to add new comforts to a rude existence. Sewing. Consider how patient they must have worked to get a thread from a rawhide and the cleverness of evolving a needle from a bone. Tan ning and dressing leather. To turn a dirty, hairy, tough skin Into a clean and soft material suitable for clothing. Fashioning with deft fin gers this clothing to their special needs. Agriculture of the simplest sort, but mostly the experiments of women. Spinning. The records of the human race go not back to a time when the spindlo was unknown, worked out from a woman’s brain which grasped the idea that the long fibers of the flax she was cultivating ought in some way to be made more adapta ble for thread than the unwieldy skin with it3 slow and painful process. Hence, the stick twirled in the fingers. Weaving. Not a long journey to the loom after arriring at the spindle and cloth, so much easier than skins to work into clothing. Besides, the birch bark basket weaving bad b-en done long before with tbe fingers and it was only necessary to steady the threads on wooden rollers. And this brought about woman’s share in early art So many plants yielded beautiful-colored juices; hence I the dyeing, and later, the painting of ' cloth and skins. Some of these savage adornings may be seen at the present day with colors still vivid anl with attractive designs. > And so I might go on through all the industries that have come down to us—all suggested by dark-skinned elation from God, or whether man dis covered it accidentally. In the ab sence of any authentic Information on the subject I venture the opinion it was discovered by a dark-skinned woman. As she was the one who had the most use for fire it is reason*...; to suppose that she it was vr*o chanced (in a fit of temper, perhaps) to rub two of her stone knives together with great violence and velocity and was surprised with the divine spark. However this may be, it was woman who immediately availed herself of this all-important discovery, and being tired of meat and fish dried in the sun. conceived the brilliant idea of laying it on the hot coals. And thus she started in a long career down the age3 the roasts and ragout3 and chow ders and fricandeaus that have given pleasure and dyspepsia to millions of her descendants of all colors. There is literally no end to this branch of the subject, but 1 have said enough to convince any rational mor tal that a creature capable of all this could not have been held in utter con tempt by contemporary man. In ferior sho was considered, as a matter of course, and she was. to a great ex tent. a commodity to be bought and sold; but, running through all the savagery, there is found a strong thread of respect for women. Even in the lowest tribes they had some rights which they were not at all back ward in enforcing; and among the more advanced peoples they had many well-defined rights which no man could in any case take from them. The men privately sought their advice to take the council and exploit it as their own wisdom; they were admit ted to some of the solemn feasts; and. sometimes, they armed themselves and went to the battlefield. This, however, seems rarely to have occured in the very early ages. Such was the dark-skinned primitive woman and such were her achieve ments. Drifting down the long stream of time, we suddenly come upon the bril liant vision of the queen of Sheba. Out of the darkness of the dark con tinent she emerges, robed in splendor, invested with power, endowed with wit and fancy, moved by an intelli gent curiosity—a woman capable of appreciating net only the glory of Sol omon but his wisdom also. She daz zles us for a brief moment and then disappears into the darkness whence she came and leaves no trace. But it requires no imagination—simply common sense—to follow her into that mysterious land and find a nation of women, not so exceptionally endowed, perhaps, as this great queen, but wom en of strong character, and vigorous intellect, capable of dealing with the problems of their time. Otherwise there could have been no queen of Sheba. In the twilight of history we note the appearance of a remarkable As syrian queen or, more plausibly, several successive queens, who were new types in that olden world. They were not only successful warriors, but ihey were engineers, mathematicians and archi tects. They turned the courses of rivers, spanned them with bridges and confined their waters within bounds; they raised great monu ments and built temples and public edifices. The name Semiramis is synonymous with every, kind o* great ness. m Coming down to the Christian era. we find one of the most interesting studies of womankind of any color or any age in the Arabians. Those dark skinned women, with no possible way of cultivating intellect, the women of a brutal race of men, in a degrading environment, fenced in with customs hostile to them, changed the face of the habitable globe and founded a great religion! Mohammed himself declared, persistently and often, that he would never have been able to achieve success hut for his wife Cad ijah. This plain, faithful, sensible woman never faltered in the darkest hour, encouraging in weakness and restraining In excess. And when the creed he tanght was accepted by the Arabs all the women threw themselves into it with such energy that nothing could stand before them. They even organized companies of women soldiers and, leading them into battle, fought with a savage cru elty that might have been expected, hut also with a heroism most surpris ing. And all through the Mohamme dan conquest women are prominent; sometimes like unto the Judicious Gan ijab; sometimes like the beautiful and wicked Ayesha, who came near dlvid ing the armies into hostile cm mot; sometimes like the savage Henda drinking the blood of the enemiM ar the faith. It is all wonderful. And, as the Christian woman reads the rec ord, she marvels how It was possible that so much good and evil purpose, so much that is noble and heroic, could have been expended with such energy on a religion that does cot tend In any way to exalt womanhood. I have not space to tell of the Chinese woman whose story we glean from legends and glimpses into the histories of their dynasties, while she herself looks at us out of the past with an impressive silence. Nor to dwell upon the East Indian woman, who, with her seductive charm and romantic, poetical nature, conquered great conquerors and ruled through them. We pass down the centuries and en ter, at‘last, into our own land to be immediately confronted by a dark skhined maiden whose name and his tory are familiar to every school child. Was there in all this newly discover ed country but one Pocahontas? She happened to be the one who fell In love with a white man, and, thus, moved to save from destruction the little white colony, has become immortalized. Whether or not this is to be regarded as a meritorious act on the pait of this Indian maiden'depends upon the point of view, whether that point be In dian or English. But there is no doubt that she was intelligent and at tractive and of a sweet nature—a very loveable creature. If you find a well molded and decorated vase standing in the midst of crude ugly pottery of a past age, you may be reasonably cer tain that a further diligent search will reveal similar vases. And so, while Pocahontas mar have been somewhat man highly gifted than the other their kith and kin and not a solitary figure. There has arisen no Cooper for the Indian woman. It is probable that the Indian tribes in the east with which the early set tlers were familiar were less cultured than those found on the Pacific coast at a later date. Among these their . women—subject and inferior, of course were of much importance. They had so improved <.he comforts of existence by quite a range of culinary prepara tions. clothes and blankets for warmth and various devices for increasing the happiness of their lords, that they had won a position of some dignity and exercised a large and beneficent influ ence. not asserted and probably not publicly acknowledged, but far-reach ing in its effects in civilizing tb*L race. COMPLAINT io NOT NEW. Other Ages Have Said “There Is No Time for Leisure.” “Leisure," a woman declared the other day. “is neither a fact nor a pos sibility—it is scarcely even an ideal. It is a word that ia the dictionary should be marked obsolete.” Whether or not the majority of peo ple would agree with her in consider ing leisure no longer an ideal, it can not be denied that leisure is a rare possession in, the first decade of the twentieth century. The common the- ' ory seems to be that we have bartered it for telephones and automobiles, for speed and society and business. Fifty years ago, we say, or a hun dred, or a hundred and fifty, life was much simpler and less hurried. Yet, as a matter of fact, a hundred years ago exactly the same complaint was made. It was in 1797 that the famous Mrs. Grant, of Laggan, wrote of that “insatiable love of change—that rest lessness, which is, I think, a great and growing evil of the age,” and com plained that the hours of her young friends were so “engrossed and di vided" that there was no time for reading and conversation. Doubtless, could we but look back, we should find the same complaint made in the eighth century as in the eighteenth. So far from leisure being less pos sible now than in past years, the aver age woman, as a recent economic writer has pointed out. never before had so good an opportunity to enjoy it. Gas and electricity, ready-made clothing, prepared foods and number less household inventions have re duced her work to a fraction of that done by her grandmother. Instead of candle and soap-making, spinning and weaving, salting down the year’s meats and making her husband's shirts by hand, she spends hours each week in shopping, amusements, study, fancy work or society, according as inclina tion and opportunity dictate. Yet—she has no leisure. After all, is it not frequently because she does not desire leisure so much as she wishes for some other things? The “simple life" is an achievement, not a chance gift, and leisure, to quote another woman's definition, is “merely the art of having time.”—Youth’s Com panion. Good Words for Gunner’s Mate. “A few days ago." said a retired naval officer, "the navy department specially commended for bravery Ed ward Whitehead, a gunner's mate. Though his act of heroism happened to take place on land instead of at sea, i the incident seems to remind anybody i familiar with the duties of the men aboard a warship that the position of gunner’s mate is one involving hard work and slight chance of recognition. It is certainly not the pick of the jobs on a man-of-war, particularly during an engagement. The gunner, above, on deck, can see how matters stand. He has the actual firing to interest him and the credit if he acquits himself well. But his mate is below, in the blackness of the hold, feeding the powder and shot into the ammunition hoists. He sees nothing and hears lit tle of what Is going on, but he knows that if the ship sinks or the magazine 1 blows up his chances of reaching Davy Jones’ locker are swifter and surer than those of his comrades on deck. I am glad to Bee the useful and In- j conspicuous gunner's mate come in for praise." j The Revolt of Betsy. f Two-score years ago there lived in * a Pennsylvania town an ill-mated coo- \ pie, both as to size and compatibility. The wife was much the larger and stronger, and. In the words of their narrator, “the husband, though a small man, was a nagger and a pesterer.” He always provoked the quarrel, and t when he went- too far hia Irate spouse would revolt. She would retaliate with < iuch splendid vigor that the husband would call in the neighbors as ar biters, and when they began to take evidence he would invariably thus ex plain matters: “I struck Betsy in all pleasantness and she got mad," or "I t poured water down Betsy’s back in all. pleasantness and It made her mad.” Curiosities in Divorce. Some curious facts appear from an international table of divorce statistics, that has been published in Paris. From this It appears that the little cosmopolis known as Switzerland la pro rata most prolific in divorce, the numbers being 40 per thousand mar riages. France follows with 21, and Germany comes next with 17 per , thousand. In France divorces have grown from 1,879 in 1884 to 14,692 in , 1904. It also appears that nearly twice as many women are divorced as men , on the ground of misconduct, not that men are more virtuous but that they have more opportunities of conceal ment, and women are readier to for give. Law Catches Druggists. Under a new law in New York state ’ that went into effect on Sept J, a drug gist is liable to a heavy punishment if he offers a customer one special article if he asks for another. When the patrons enters a drug store and asks, “Have you Brown's pills?” the druggist can either produce the article, declare that he does not carry it, or offer to get it> But if he says, “No, we do not keep Brown’s, bnt we have Green's which are Jnst as good,” ha lays himself liable to Jail or a fine. The grocer can still offer substitute goods, I as eaa also other merchants, but the i drag mao Is held to the strict letter of ’ 1 bis customer's request