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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 4, 1912)
A HEALTHY, HAPPY OLD AGE May be promoted by Jjose who gently clramr the system, now and •Lea. when in need of a laxative remedy, by taking a decertspoonful of the ever refreshing. wholesome and truly beneficial S nip of Figs aad Elixir of Senna, which is the only family laxative generally ap proved by tba aost eminent phy ssriaftt. because it acts in a natural strengthening way and warms and tones up the internal organs without wraknaag them. It is equally beneh bdd far the very young and the mid dle aged. as it is always e&cient and free from all harmful ingredients. To get its beneficial effects it is always nsceasaiy to buy the genuine, bear ing the name of the Company— Caiaorma Fig Syrop Co.—plainly pnnied on the froctof every package. the weak point. S' !l«.h—Don't krvw host to court the Ctrl? W,- . kj hoy. you just tell her that you know sfce despise* “jol ly?'-a'*' and is the ore woman ia tbe world wfco rant be fluttered Sr-iilUgst—m'eH* “That son at guff writ! flatter her!" The bjrttt'.ologist. A 1; Hnoaf t- -ky rkmrel to meet an the *trert a friend who complain H of cj>4 "ttarf." Indeed, tbe af tt.cted «*e en ta despair, so “tucker seed cut“ was he. “kl«* tecs to be de matter?" asked the first negro J»‘ si-4 the other with a moan md a ge»- .re indicating the portion at hU anatomy that was giving him sc much rouble. “I'se go: seek awful Pams ta mah back teak!" J:m assumed as air of great solem •'?? and wisdom. “Ia dat case." said be. ' dear’* only one thing fo' yo to do «• T» Wt yose'f ia de bands o‘ dat Ibirub Blank. 1 heart dat he's de baswt bafctenoloctM m de whole souf." Espeosive Possessisn. A small appUrant tor Christmas cheer was being interviewed by the charily worker What Is your father?" asked the latter "ICm me father " -Tea. hot what Is her Oh* Ei me stepfather.** "Yea. yes. bat what does be do? Iamb be sweep chimneys or drive *Ow-w*~ esetaims tbe small appli cant. with dawning light of compre hension "So. *e ain't done nothin' since we »«• id ins "—London An swers Mary s Little Postscript. Mtsffees- JJary. wasn't that gentle wit asking foe me? The New Maid—No. mum. he de scribed the lady be warned to see as be;:.* about 4d. and I told him it could n't hr you Mictreo—Qsiit right, my dear. And you tfeali Late as extra afternoon off temurrow Tbe New Maid—Yes. mum* Thankee, mum? Yea. mum' I told him it could a t be row. as you was about SO. Mt»>rets -And while you're taking row afternoon off you'd better look out tor a new (dace? TIED DOWN. 20 Years* Slavery—How She Got Free dom. A dyspepsia veteran who writes from one of Eegtaads charming rural homes to tell bow she won victory In bor Vt years' fight, natural!} exults in her triumph over tbe tea and coffee "I fee! it a duty to tell you." she eays. "how much good Postua bus dsn me. I pm grateful, but also de sire to lot others who may he suffering ns 1 did. knuw of the delightful meth od by which I was relieved “I bad suffered for 29 years from dyspepsia, and the giddiness that usu ally accompanies that painful ailment, and which frequently prostrated me I never drank auirb coffee, and cocoa end evea milk did not agree with my impaired digest km. so 1 used tea. ex clusively. till about a year ago. when I krai ta a package of Grape-Nuts the little book. The k ill to Wellvllle.' "After n careful reading of the book let 1 wss curious to try Post uni and sent for a package I enjoyed it from tbe tnt, and at otoq g~ve up tea ia Hi favor ~f began to feel better very scon. My giddiness left tae after tbe first few day*' u*e of Pustum. and my etom iLCh became stronger so rapidiy that It was wot long till I pas able las I still ami t* take ml?? and Many orber ar ticles of food of which 1 was formerly c -.relied to dews* rpp&WCiC fcfve t-wed the truth of your statement ti - f Pnstum makes good. rod blood.' -t have become very ee-tnjelartlc over lU r-erits of my sew table beverage, sad daring ike past few months, have r-mdactsd a Port urn propaganda among my ne'gfcbora which has brought bene fi; to oany. and I shall continue to tell my friends of (he ’better way* in which I reyusr*." Name given by Postum €*•„ Lai lie Creek. Mick. Read the Utile- hook. "The Road to wyieiu- Ml pkgs. “There's a res SYNOPSIS. Carrot Coast, a young man of New Vork Cttjr. ni«*els OoukI.is Blackstock. whf> ; Invlr.# him to a card party. He accepts. . fcltnough hr tli*Uk« s Blackstook. the re*- ] !•* ing that tn.th arc In love with Kath- i t-nm* Tcaxtrr Coast fails to convince h* r that Black stock is unworthy of hoi frimd«h!p \t the party Coast meets two nanird 1 Mjrulas and Y’an Tuvl. There Is * *iuarrrl. and Blackstook shoots Van Tu\ l dead. Coast struggles to w rest the i w»-ap..:i from him. thus lb** police dls- ' cio.r fls.-ni Ooast is arrested for murder. Hr is nmrirt<4, hut as he t-csins his si n- ] I'und.is names Blackstock *s the f-* r*l-*r*- r an.l kills himself. Coast be- ; f'liin fri-e. but Blacks!**-k lias married! Kait.rrlne Tliaxter and fled. Coast pur * >s- » a vai ht and white sailing sees a man thrown from a distant boat, lie r**s ii-s t. e fellow who is n:ime*l Appleyard. ; They arrive at a lonely Island, known as i N Mite's land. t'-iast starts out to ox t i re !he place and comes up. n some de serted tuildings. CHAPTER VII.—(Continued.) His voice must have carried to the animal: be beard a wbine. the quick padding o! paws, and a huge Scotch ! colke bounded clumsily out of tbe ( mists, passed him within an arm's length, vanished and returned, whin- ' leg and circling, cose to ground, as if j confuted and ux able to locate him. He : watched the animal, half-stupefied with wondi r at its erratic actions; j :hen unconsciously noted slightly. A j pebble grated tenealh bis foot. The deg wheeled toward him instantly . and padPed at attention, a forepaw | lifted, ears pricked forward, delicate ( nostrils expanding ar.d contracting j as he sniffed for the scent of man. "Here. boy. here'” Coast called soft ly; and the next moment had the ani mal fawning upon him, alternately j cringing at his feet and jumping up to muzzle his legs and hands, as if they were his own master's. "Good toy! Steady now! So-o. so’" Puzzled by this demonstrative r> < i ptiun. Coast bent over the animal, trying to soothe it with voice and hand. It was plainly in a state of bmh excitement and evidently deep ly grateful for his sympathetic toleration He caught the finely mod ••led head between his palms, lifting up the muzzle. “Come, now." he said in a soothing tone, “let's have a look at you. old fellow. Good o;d boy—It's all right now—steady . . . Why. the poor brute's blind’" For as its eyes rolled up he saw ’hat they were blank and lightless, the irides masked with a him of white. "Cataract." he said, releasing the dog. "That's why he couldn't see me. ... 1 wondered . . . Hel lo. what now?" Comforted and reassured, the dog had drawn away and resumed its mys terious circling, nosing the earth with anxious whlnings Abruptly is paused, tense, lithe frame quivering, then made off at a rapid trot in the direc tion whence it had appeared. A mo ment later the heartrending howl wailed out again. Almost unwillingly Coast followed, cervine himself aeainst the rii smvprv he feared to make. . . . Halt a dozen steps, and he almost tell over the dog He recoiled with a I cry of horrified consternation. “Appleyard!. . ." But It was not Appleyard. On raw. naked earth in the middle of the rude village street, a man lay proae with one forearm crcoked be neath his head, his other limbs re pulsively asprawl His head, near which the collie squatted, lifting its mournful muzzle to the sky. was bare and thickly thatched with reddish hair. The man had been murdered. loul :y slain by a means singular and unique outside the Orient. Deep buried in a crease round his throat Coast had s*-en a knotted loop of crimson silk whipcord—the bow string of the East Above it the face was a grinning mask ot agony and fear, dark with congested blood; a face that, none the lass—despite those frightfully shadowed, blurred and swollen features—had unquestionably once been comely in the youthful Irish way He rose and searched the ground for indications of a struggle. He lound none. No confusion of foot prints about the dead man showed on the damp eartn Apparently the vic tim had been taken from behind, with ^out warning Irresolute, baffled, he lingered lor another moment. By his side the dog howled deep and long. He turned, half-faint, and fled the place, bearing with him what he was not to forget for many a night: the picture of the blind dog mourning tull moutbi-d beside the crumpled. lifeless Thing that had been Its master, there , in that nameless spot of death and desolation. The horror of it crawled like de lirium in his brain. "No Mans land*'' he muttered huskily . . . "Land of devils . CHAPTER VIII. "There's nc sense In this—none whatever!" Coast spoke lor the first time in twenty minutes or so. "Where • In tbund< ration am 1. anyhow ?” He stood in thought, pursing tiis underlip between a -thumb and lore finger. wits alert to oetect the clue to bis bearings that was denied him, tor all that the fog bad thinned per ceptibly within the, last third of an hour. This much he knew and no more: that he was tost. As from a great distance came the muffled mourning of the blind deg. Coast shivered. "1 can't stand that.” he said irritably, and plunged on in desperation. Before him. presently, a wall started up out of the raist-bcund earth, ' a low stone wall, grey where it was not green with lichen, and ran off in land. diverting the path to keep it company. Some distance farther on a second wall, counterpart of the oth | er. intersected it at right angles. Here ! was a primitive stile Coast climbed I over and continued, following the • thinly-marked, tortuous trail across a ; wide expanse of rolling, semi- sterile. : treeless upland, thickly webbed with i other footways. Unexpectedly a rail fence sprang up across ibe paih. Beyond it a company • of indistinct blurs uncertainly shad owed torth what be took, and what i the event proved, to be a farmhouse ; with outbuildings. Encouraged, Coast climbed the I fence and addressed himself to the | farmhouse, coming inevitably first to i its main entrance, the kitchen door; which stood hospitably wide, reveal ing an interior untenanted but warm with recent use. Coast did not enter, but moved round toward the front of the house, his footsteps noiseless on the sod. By the corner he stopped as though ! he had run against an invisible bar j rler. Ten feet distant a woman stood in j the gateway of a fence of palings. , Half turned away frorff him and more. ! so that only the rounded curves o! cheek and chin were visible, she : seemed absorbed ia pensive niedita j tlon. One band held the gate ajar, ! the other touched her cheek with slen j der fingers. She was dressed plainly | to the verge of severity: a well-tailor ed tweed skirt ending a trifle above ankles protected by high tan boots; a blouse of heavy white linen with a their llve3. Seeing before him the one being in the world dear to him beyond expression, the one being ir revocably lost to him. he divined anew with bitter clarity the bridge less gulf that yawned between them. It was inevitable that the woman shouid in time become sensitive to his proximity. Though wholly unaware of his approach, though thoroughly as sured that she was alone, a feeling ot uneasiness affected her. She resisted it subconsciously and strovq to con tinue the line of thought which had engaged her; but without effect. Then she turned her head, and threw a flick ering glance toward the house; the shadow of his figure lay upon the boundary of her vision. She swung quickly to face him. suppressing a cry. Their eyes focussed to one another, his burning, her successively a-swim with astonishment, incredulity and consternation. For a long moment, during which neither moved, or spoke, while she grew- pale and yet more pale and he flushed darkly, their questing glances crossed and re crossed like swords at play. From Katherine’s eyes a woman's soul gazed forth, experienced, ma ture, inured to sadness, gently braee: where had been the eager, question ing, apprehensive, daring spirit of a girl. He who had suffered and lived could see that she in no less degree 1 had Jived and suffered since that even- | iug when last he had seen her be- i neath the street lights, bending tor- i ward from the seat of her town-car to ! bid him farewell. Life is not kind; ] Life had not been kind to her. If he i bad endured, she likewise had en- j dured. in another wav, perhaps, but j in no less measure. She. too. had ' seen the splendid tapestry of her il lusions rent to tatters by Life’s im- ' placable hand. For this one man alone was an- | swerable—Black stock. Of a sudden, on the echo of that j name in his brain. Coast's hatred of j the man, the animosity that had hard- 1 The Man Had Been Murdered. deep sailor collar edged with blue— sleeves rolled well above the elbow, revealing arms browned, graceful and round; for her head no covering other than its own heavy coils of bronze shot with gold. Coast was conscious of a tightening in his throat producing a feeling of suffocation, of a throbbing in his tem ples like the throbbing of a muffled drum. In a trice he had forgotten everything that had passed up to that moment: even the haunting thought of the murdered man dropped out of his consciousness; he was unable to entertain the faintest shadow of a thought that did not center about this woman, not a line of whose gracious pose, not a tress of whose matchless hair, not a tint of whose wonderful coloring but was more intimate to nis memory than his own features. She was—she had been—Katherine Thaxter. CHAPTER IX. His first translatable impulse was to turn and make good his escape belore she became aware of him. But. as ir the shock of recognition had palsied his will, he remained moveless. Con tending emotions, resembling the flashes of heat and cold of an ague fit. alternately confounded and stung him to the point of madness. For the first lime in days he had forced home' to him all that he had sought to ban ish from his life; his memories, of his gnawing passion for the woman, of the black crime that had severed ered to inexorable enmity in the cru cible of his passion, recurred with ten fold strength and nearly overmastered him. It is only the ruin their own deeds have wrought that men can view complacently. He stepped forward a single pace, with an unconscious gesture as one who tears from his throat that which hinders free respiration. "Where," he demanded without preface or apol ogy, in a voice so thick and hoarse he hardly knew it for his own—“Where i is he?” He. saw her recoil from his ad vance. but whether from fear or re pugnance he could not guess. When she replied it was with evident dif ficulty. “He?” Impatient, he waved aside what. seemed a palpable quibble: she must know very well what he meant. “What are you doing here, in this place, alone? Why did he leave you here?” He moved nearer, his voice rising to vehemence. “Why are you here. Kath erine?” She drew back again, passing through the gateway, so that She fence stood between them. He comprehend ed dully that she did this through fear of him. “1 might ask as much of you.” “Of me?” Her quietly interjected remark threw him momentarily off his line of thought. * “Yes. of you.” she replied quietly, quick to see and take advantage ct his distraction. “How did you get here? And why?” (TO BE CONTINUED.) Something New in Eggs _ -1 Penquin Fruit May Soon Figure on American Hotel and Res taurant Menus. Penguin eggs from South Africa may soon figure on American hotel and restaurant menus. Immense num bers of them are being gathered on several of the islands oE the southern extremity of Africa, and one dealer down there has offered to introduce them to the United States if some one will pay for the transportation of a sample case. The eggs easily could stand the journey, as the fast steam ers make the run from Cape Town to Southampton in 19 days, thus bringing the penguin nest and the American epicure within a little more than three weeks of each other. Ostrich eggs also are being used as food in South Africa, though natur ally to a limited extent, as even there they do not grow on every bush, in California and Arizona, where the ostrich has been acclimatized, these huge eggs are not less esteemed for the table, but to eat them generally Is regarded as a wanton waste of pos-' sibilitles in the way of feathers. Californa is less scrupulous about eating the eggs of gulls and murres. which have been gathered in such un told thousands on the Farallone is lands that steps have had to be taken to prevent the extermination of these two sea birds. In Texas not only gulls and terns but herons have been robbed of their eggs with similar de plorable results. Smarty—Every tree has a bark, but do you suppose any woyld bite? Down rite—The dogwood. New News of Yesterday I — = I By E. J. EDWARDS i - I How Grant Made First Speech S - . I Persuaded by Rawlins, He Addressed a Meeting Near Galena to Re cruit Company After the Attack on Sumter. When General Grant became presi dent on March 4. 1S69, he made John 1 A. Rawlins secretary of war. Shortly after he had become a major of a volunteer Illinois regiment in the first year of the civil war. Rawlins re signed that post in order to assume the duties of assistant adjutant gen- j eral on General Grant's staff. From then on until the close of the war. Rawlins served on Grant's staff. He was the youngest of all the men who served with the great commander, but. nevertheless, he was one of Grant's j closest advisers in military matters. He also was his chief’s intimate friend; and it was most natural for Grant, when he knew for a certainty that he would be called upon to make up a cabinet, to turn to General Raw lins as the one man to fill the office ; of secretary of war. But that post General Rawlins occupied for a few i months only. He bad contracted con sumption as the result of exposure , during the war, and in September, 1S69. he died. One afternoon in 1901 I met the late General A. C. Chetlain. then of Chi cago. w ho. as a resident of Galena, j 111., in 1S61, had enlisted in the first company of volunteers that left Grant’s ■ home town in defense of the Union. I : asked General Chetlain if he had j known well General Rawlins, who was [ a resident of Galena at the time of the war. "Indeed I did," was the reply, "and j I remember well the intimacy that j existed between him and Grant prior to the outbreak of the war. I have j only to shut my eyes now and see | them in memory as they sit together j in Grant's father’s leather store earn- | estly discussing political questions, and, most earnestly of all. the one ; great question of the day—would there be war between north and south? “But though they often differed on : other questions, on the question of the possibility of war they were fully j agreed; and of all the men who gath- ? ered in the leather store from time to time to talk the matter over they were the only two who felt that war was surely coming and that it would be a prolonged struggle. Rawlins thought that it would take as much as five j years to overcome the south, while Grant would declare that no one could tell how long it would take to do that. And then they would have a time of it trying to convince their fellow citi zens that they were wrong in the be lief that, if war did come, the north 1 would be able to subdue the south In 90 days—an opinion commonly held throughout the north at that time. “And well I remember, too,” contin ued General Chetlain, “that 1; was Rawlins who persuaded Grant to make the first speech he ever delivered. “As scon as we had received the news that Fort Sumter had been fired on, I immediately began to recruit our first Galena company, of which I was elected captain, and with which Grant went from Galena to Springfield, the stale capital, where the company was mustered in. It was thought tforth while to have somebody go to a I little suburb of Galena, some three or ; four miles beyond the city limits, and : make a speech that would urge the young farmers round about to enlist in ! our company. Rawlins was well known and iiked in that community, and I asked him if he would undertake this task. He replied that he would be glad to do so. adding, as an after thought. that he'd take Captain Grant with him. ■ ■ - * "Well, at the appointed time Raw lins and Captain Grant drove out to the suburb, and Rawlins told me after wards that he made a brief speech and then introduced Captain Grant, saying that the captain had already served in the United States army in Mexico and was therefore more compe tent than any civilian to address a meeting called to secure recruits. ‘You know how backward the captain is ex cept before his friends,' said Rawlins. 'Well, without the slightest hesitation he stood upon the rostrum and made a very plain and simple but earnest speech, about 15 minutes in length. After he had finished four or five of the farmer boys came forward and said that they would, on the following day, come to our recruiting oifice in Galena and enlist.’ “So it was John Rawlins who in duced Grant to make his first speech: and K was Grant’s success as a speak er in that little village which led to our making him chairman of the great mass meeting which a day or two later was held in our Galena public hall.’' (Copyright, 19H. by E. J. Edwards. All Rights Reserved.) Arthur Wanted Western Man Story of a Chat With Him Just Before the Convention at Which He Was Nominated for the Vice Presidency. One day in the first •week of Jane. 1SS1. 1 was compelled to wait at the railway station at Albany. N. Y.. for a train from the west that was reported two hours late. The day was warm, an l the station platform was almost deserted except by employes. At last I heard a step approaching and. looking up, saw Gen. Chester A. Arthur. He carriid a gripsack, which he set down in order to remove his hat and wipe from his forehead the profuse perspiration which the heat of the day had brought out General Arthur seldom failed to recognize any one with whom he had acquaintance, even the slightest, and his greeting of me. therefore, was most cordial. "I suppose you are on your way to Chicago, general?” I asked, having in mind the fact that the Republican na tional convention was about to con vene in that city. "Yes.” he replied. “I am to take here the special train that is running from New York city. ! came up to Al bany yesterday to attend to some per sonal business and to visit my sister. Mrs. McElroy. whom I have not seen for some time.” She was the sister, who, a little over a year later, was to Poet Who Peddled a Classic _ —1 William Cullen Bryant Had a Hard Time Finding a Publisher for Richard Henry Dana’a “Two Year# Before the Mast.” One of the great sea classics of English literature is Richard Henry Dana, Jr.’s “Two Years Before the Mast." As is well known, the book was the outcome of a voyage that Its author made as a common sailor around the Horn and up the Pacltlc coast in the fifties of the last cen tury. He left college to make the trip in the hope that the hardly life on the deep would cure his weakened eyesight, caused by an attack or measles. His father, Richard Henry Dana, the poet, was fully able to send his son on a health seeking sea voy age as a passenger, even on one ex tending around the world. But young Dana, as a lad. had conceived a great fascination tor the sea. and it was his own idea that he sail before tbe mast. At that time he was still in his teens. Young Dana wrote the story of his experience as a sailor partly on ship board and partly after he returned to his home. The story finished, he showed the manuscript to his father. "The old gentleman was delighted with it," said the late Col. George Bliss, for many years a prominent politician of New York state, and an intimate friend of the Dana family "He was so delighted with it that about the first thing he did alter read ing it was to hunt up his warm friend. William Cullen Bryant, and give him the manuscript to read. Bryant grew almost as enthusiastic over the story as the boy’s father had done, and when Dana. Sr., asked Bryant If he could find a publisher for the story, Bryant gladly replied that he would make every effort to do so. since he considered the book a second Robin son Crusoe.’ and was equally sure that it would net its writer and its pub lisher each a tine profit. “Bryant entered upon his love's er rand with great enthusiasm. But pub lisher alter publisher refused to be tempted by the poet’s enthusiastic praise of the story. They could see nothing in the book, they said, that would attract the public to It. “At last Bryant carried the manu script to Fletcher Harper. He told Harper what he had told other pub lishers about the book; among other things saying that though it was the work of a mere boy. it was. never theless. in his opinion, a second 'Rob inson Crusoe.' Harper was decidedly reluctant at first to give the took any serious consideration, but at last he told Mr. 3ryant that he would buy the ! manuscript outright. Including the j copyright, provided he did not have j to pay over three hundred dollars for it. "Bryant, remembering what be had been through, thought that was a pretty fair bargain and he let Fletch er Harper have the manuscript for two hundred and fifty dollars, I be lieve. and twentv-tive copies of the ' book. You know the hit that the • book made In this country as soon as ! it was published. And It was the \ first American work to be widely i translated. If Harper bad accepted it on a royalty basis that would have meant a small fortune < for young Dana. But Dana never regretted that he did not reap a fortune out of the book. He was satisfied with the fame that the story brought him— much more satisfied than he would have been with any pecuniary suc cess." (Copyright. 1911. by K. d Edwards. All . Rights Reserved.) become mistress of the White House. As we paced up and down the plat form, General Arthur, whose train also was late, spoke with great frankness of the probable result of the balloting for the presidential candidate. "1 doubt.” said he—and he was one of Roscoe Coukling's stanch su»oort ers in the Grant third term movcncnt —”1 doubt whether we shall be ab)o to secure the nomination of General Grant. Judge William C. Robertson of this state seems to have his bolt ing delegates wel! in hand, and 1 am convinced that the delegates from Pennsylvania who have stated that they will not support Grant's nomina tion will stick to that determination. All this looks to me as if Grant can not he nominated." “In case you do not nominate Gen eral Grant” I asked, "who. then, is likely to be the choice of the conven tion? Blaine?” “No, not Blaine. But for him Grant would be nominated. If Grant can’t he nominated, Blaine can't he.” “Does that mean a dark horse?” I asked. “Or John Sherman?” Sherman was an avowed candidate. General Arthur looked at me queer !y fow a moment before replying. "Do you really think that the New York delegation would support the nomination of Sherman In view of what has happened?" he asked. He re ferred to the fact that it was John Sherman, who. as secretary of the treasury under Hayes, had caused Arthur's removal from the office of collector of the port of New York— an act that greatly angered the New York organization. “For myself I should like to see some one nominated from one of the states west of the Mississippi river if we can not nominate General Grant.” Arthur continued. "The temptation will be great. Gen eral Arthur.” I said, “to publish the fact that you, and presumably your friends, have some Republican who lives west of the Mississippi in mind as second choice In case you cannot nominate General Grant." “It wouldn’t do at all.” he replied, hastily; “it would mix everything all up.” “Well,” 1 said, "In case you nomi nate a far western naan for president, the convention will probably come east for Its candidate for vice-presi dent.” General Arthur smiled “The vice presidency is so remote a contingency until the candidate for president is nominated that we haven’t given it a moment’s thought.” he said. “Almost any good Republican who lives In the cast would make a good candidate for vice-president. Personally. I should be inclined to name some one from Pennsylvania or New England, but the matter at this time is not worth a mo ment's consideration." That was the attitude of the man who a few days later was himself to be nominated for vice-president and who. as we paced the platform to gether. tacitly admitted to me that he was contemplating his election on the lollowing winter as United Stales sen ator from New York to succeed Fran cis Kernan. Who General Arthur's far western :hoice for the presidential nomination was I never learned. (Copyright. 1311. by E. J. Edwards. All Rights Reserved.) Women can’t think, but they sugar the brains of every man who can. Good Champ Clark Story. “They are going the wrong way about it." said Champ Clark, at a ban quet In Bowling Green of a tax that he opposed. "They remind me. in this expensive scheme for raising revenue, of Mrs. Calhoun Webster. •• ■cal.’ said Mrs. Webster, one lovely morning In early spring. I wish you’d save up your money and get a biplane cr a monoplane.' •• -What for?' the astonished Calhoun Webster asked. “ ’O.' said the wife, “we need so many things this summer—hats and harem skirts and new carpets and talking me chines, and so on—and winning aero plane prizes seems such a quick way to earn money.’ "—Washington Post. Got AnyT The fall of the year alwaya lays a special strain upon the nation’s finan cial resources. For not only Is there the money needed to move the crops, hut also those great rolls of bills which prudent men. In putting away their light clothing, do not forget to forget In the pockets thereof. In order that they may come Joyfully to light next summer —Puck. Where Women Keep Hidden Practically Non-Existent, According to the Custom of the Country. Should the women of Persia ever get a vote, they will doubtless see to it that the lot of their sex is consider ably improved, for the present time they are regarded as nonentities. A j husband in Persia never speaks of his wife to his acquaintances, and, if obliged to mention her, it is by some other term than wife, as "mother of my son.” or "my house." She must not exist for anyone but her husband, and from all others she must be hid den—non-existing. For this reason, when the harems of governors or very high personages pass through the streets of Persia, the men whom they meet either turn their backs or slip down a by-street or Into some conven ient doorway. On passing a European, if sure that none of her co-religlonists see her, a j woman, particularly if she be young | and good-looking, will often raise her veil, from under which a pair of dark eyes follow the stranger with a curi ous gaze. Maidens wishing to get married vis it the tomb of some sacred woman. There are many such tombs, and most of them are considered as the patrons os virgins. Marriages are contracted very early. Sometimes, owing to fam ily reasons, one hears of a youth of 15 or 16 married to a gir! much old er. The marriageable age for a girl is fixed at nine. Her Frugal Mind. A man whose illness threatened to develop into typhoid was taken to the hospital. Instead of growing worse he improved, and at the end of the fourth day, when his wife visited him. he asked to be taken borne. "But you have paid lor a week." replied nu thrifty spouse. “They won't refund the money. You had better stay you* week out."