BOB HAMPTON ,
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By MVMU PAJUHSHAUTHOROT*
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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
