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."