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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 29, 1912)
4b _ _
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. dr**fr doar
CHAPTER n~:> Ov rw dwnr ft*
tan*)»-few boar tw St aoton *r>o.-*» a
c.’ir«« Xtw Carttxto. x — Itiimda**
baawlf T * nor uuuiiu mavra raarfeii*
Rat) wi * t A
CHAPTER m Tbr Mrr-tjrr tCito nrt
•ta « *ooc «* faain frca Miaa Cat
Rif, (tort hr ic—aaa
CHAPTER TV- Staatoo DEt Mtoa Car
Bab aa a trato Ttarr attest la U«
watt teat® Wan* Staatoe and Miaa
(Maw iaTioa la hr •
CHAPTER r-iffUnt by wMrfc San
lac • bnrt to nwlPTtoaa. Fiord at tatwh
W- bu*« tofto of t-to to.vt.Kxl Stan
tor: **■ * moots Mlam Cacttow and t r)
CH »ET1 rr-dUE* «r*m«a to track
alrt bo* Bratu* rar* TVr na*-* ar-1
Ar— Fiord feati bo* no* aortoorlr. At
tot rt tVtd lotto S’ *rloa of bit ttrta
BtEor J.*nera Raai «c to *ia« eery HI
CHAPTER VII—C • ta* r«ry at M
toaaot lurtn or*)' | tori •am art*! rt«
“i }*>*w TSot ( to tbratrr hotbar,
•at aw* Sftoa Cut *>.
CHAPTER VTT1 - •tatrtor and Fiord
ant * xab and aero* to aptatr auiome
td> «*ctorr aa paewra
CHAPTER IX-Fiord tofimn rnajt!
rl**£:» ad Jfto* Cadato. and warn* Stan
ce AFTER X— R>atr*a acala rteita Joa
ab-» and *tior boo*■**■■*»• faE frtond*. bis
tao htoswW to nxptoo of Mtoa Cam
<~H *F—rR XI -Jo*- befnr* important
r*— «m w**iS*d *nv gtafora's ear are
VbT«e fl*rt !*»•*• t**n sat Mmn
rt>»*» t« ramp Partat vac* Jumna **
nm!><r * »*—U* Ms ear t«* save ma-Mr*
ta rrwW fpsr-aw awS Flora throw* out
Kg to tarns across tbe roar of tbeir
Ft maler. and on between tbe waits
A pec;.Oe mtc tbe quicker bark stretch
la parson of tbeir rivals
There was a bridge, back there,
arms a shallow running brook shut to
by a strip of smtru nd<n««d wood’and.
"Car ahead'" Floyd cried suddenly,
as they rushed around a curve and
bore dswa aa tbe crossing "Look oat
!e tbe center of the bridge was a
tm-ling staggering car. coming to a
baft and striving to maintain its equi
awLile Tbe cbiia Had
Its driver afterward el
and was lashing the under
mechaciss to scrap metal Seeing too
late to atop lb own machine Stanton
took tbe only chance of saving any o*
tbe ionr fives and tried to twist past
tbe ember car on 'be narrow bridge
On!y a master-driver would have at
tempted ta* teat: S’aeton carried it
to tbe verge of success They were
slang aide passing when the edge of
'be socmen bridge gave way under tbe
doable strain There was tbe rip of
•pHntertes planks a* ’He Mercury's
«UM» wheels crashed through the
flooring, a shuddering lurch
“Jump*- Stanton shouted his vain
command to Floyd, as they west down.
Tbe cool water lapped around his
A Lleen-Clad Nurse Stood Set id* Him.
Anger-. trickled revlvtaffty across his
Intolerably painful arm. gurgling like
a joyous voice as It passed by him.
Slouly, ulth infinite effort Stanton
drugged himself up upon the other
arm. the uninjured right. He must
►e» 'hat eas the Imperious cry of
i'rmla a%d heart, to see. It seemed to
him years ago that the Mercury had
cone off the bridge, yet he knew the
•irae me id he hot momenta, since the
ambulance had not come and he was
His vision was clearing Tea:
'hern, half In the dainty brook, half
on the green bank, lay the heap of
beat aad broken metal that had been
'he Mercury racing car. And betid*
When he drove bark the falntneas
that blackened the bright noon. Stan
ton began to drag his pain-racked
body toward what lay beside the Mer
«wry Movement hurt, hurt unbear
ably. yet was n leas anguish than
thought For he knew, knew the
mechanician seldom escapes
Hoyd lay near the machine, un
married to outward view except for h
cut over his temple and a stain of blood
eo bis lips His mask aad cap were
gone, one band was flung oat. palm up
ward. and the torn sleeve left bare the
attu arm crossed by the zigzag scar
gained at Lowell. He looked very
yeung and strangely grave, as the sun
light aad tree-shadows flickered back
aad forth arrow hi* colorless face and
sbiaiac bronze waves of hair.
~T\oyd.“ Stanton articulated hoarse
The brook gurgled cheerfully, a be
lated oriole flashed past a streak of
flams. Stanton's head sank back
down against his mechanician’s Inert
hand, and the world fell oat of knowl
It was two weeks later when Ralph
Stanton first reopened conscious eves
Vs time upon the Immaculate dreari
er* of a hospital room. A linen-clad
:cr«e stood beside him, and at the
out of the bed was a gentleman un
‘tetter. Mr. Stanton?” queried the
alter, breeilly professional.
"Floyd?" Stanton wMapererJ. with
ldlculty. "Where is Jes Floyd?"
The doctor surveyed him oddly, hen
• tlrg. But the nurse stoope.l over
fan. her expression altering to impu’
"Well, very well." she assured hast
•Jes Floyd has gone home. Tr
> rest; try not to think of things."
He had known the truth before be
sed the question Stanton quie‘,y
-ned his face to the wall and faint
d. being very weak.
In his next conscious Interval, be
■ut another demand.
"Miss Floyd? She Is alive?”
"Yes. oh yes,” the nurse heartily af
irmed. "Yes. indeed."
Once more Stanton turned to the
rail. Jessica had not d:ed when Jes
!id. then, according to her prediction;
he tie of kinship had not held so far.
She was In the little apartment, alone.
Later In the nigh; his steady, silent
gaze drew the attendant to his side.
"What Is It? You are suffering
"Ask her to stop singing." he
'legged. "It wasn't my fault. Ask her
The nurse took a glass from the
Thetv Is no one singing. Mr. Str.n
on. no one at all. Drink this.”
"No one? Not out there in the
He averted hla gaze, and remained
mute, unprotesting After that he
never lost memory again; not even
in sleep, for he dreamed. Day and
night, hour after hour, Jessica's mo
notonous song beat through his sick
"Oft. In the stilly night—"
His nights were not still, always
when he closed his eyes he heard
tome one sobbing. Jessica Floyd weep
ing for her brother.
But gradually the last traces of de
lirium faded out Slowly his superb
, health reasserted Its dominion and
| brought Stanton back to normal life.
Tie fractured bones knit, the other
He never spoke Floyd's name a sec
I end time. Xor did any one mention it
io im. The head of the Mercury
Company came out from *ew York to
see him and express cordiaJ sympathy
George, who had driven the Duplex to
victory after the Mercury’s wreck,
came to visit him more than once, a
Monde, cheery presence: as did the
driver of the machine on the bridge
who ov aed his own life to Stanton's
<©ol fearlessness and skill. Mr.
Green brought his fussy condolence,
tut none of them alluded to Jes
TToyd. There was a curious constraint
’hat marked them all. an air of watch
fully keeping silent upon some sob
er’ constantly presen’ in their minds
ttan-on looked them through anil
•hrough with hia hollow blue-black
yes. and asked nothing.
It was two months before he could
leave the hospital. Winter had shut
n. r >and bleak. The day fixed for
ns departure, the doctor lingered in
liddia" him good-by.
"I have not wan ed you to be wor
ri-wl Mr. Stanton.” he said bruskly.
X •: on any account. But from the
, 'act 'hat your first question was ‘Jes
' d" I Imagine you feel some re
' • sibility in that matter. May I ask
There you are going?”
! fore the spoken name Stanton
virjr d but steadily met the other’s
“To Miss Floyd.” he responded.
The doctor held out a hearty hand.
"Good. I was sure of it! A patient
shows a lot of his character to his
physician. Good luck to you—all
How did he know of unprotected Jes
sica Floyd? Stanton wearily pondered
the question as he descended to the
carriage. Or rather, how did he know
i of Stanton’s feeling of responsibility
•oward her? The mechanician was
supposed to take his chance with the
driver. Perhaps delirium had revealed
the close bond of friendship between
Plovd and himself.
At tne railroad station, a tall young
man approached him, as the train
whistled in the distance.
“My name is Richards,” he an
; nounced diffidently. “You’re hardly
1 on your feet vet, Mr. Stanton; if there
‘ is anything I can do for you on the
, trip Into the city. I’d be glad.”
Stanton surveyed him with blank
“You don't remember me?” the
young man tried again. "Have you
; forgotten the cub reporter who fol
lowed you on the afternoon you were
arrested for sp?Cding your machine in
; Pelham Parkway? You let your com
•lanion give me the story.”
Stanton put out his hand, the poign
ant memory unendurable.
"Yes. yes. What of it?”
"It gave me my start, it meant a
big life for me; and I didn't forget It.
i I made the accounts of the accident at
the Cup race as easy for Miss Floyd
a« I could, when they came out. There
was bound to be some sensational
“Thank you." Stanton made brief ac
knowledgment. “There Is nothing that
| you can do for me.”
The train waa hissing at the plat
form. but the reporter pursued him. a
step farther. ^
"You. you'll look after Miss Floyd/
Mr. Stanton? That’s square?”
The driver turned an amazed resent
ful glance upon his questioner, his
hand on the rail. But. hardly aware
why. he answered, however glacially.
The reporter beamed at him, radiant.
“I knew it,” he called, above the
roar and clang of the starting train.
"I knew it waa all right."
A dull gray sky arched above a
snow-patched landscape, flurries of
snow were In the harsh air. Stanton
with unseeing eyes directed out
(be window, chin in band, much as he
had found Floyd sitting in the west
bound train the night they started for
Indianapolis. September sunlight, Oc
tober crimson and gold, all gone.
A delicate fragrance drifted around
him. r,i, : e wasTHe TrouTrou of'soft
grrments as some one took the seat
facing him. Stanton looked up. and
saw Valerie Carlisle opposite, her
blond fairness framed in dark vel
vets and furs, her amber eyes regard
ing him from beneath the shadow of
her wide plumed hat.
“There is nothing at all singular in
my being here, Mr. Stanton.” she stat
ed, in her cool, indolent voice. “Be
cause I ascertained by telephone when
ycu intended to leave the hospital, an
so arranged to meet you on the train
Tomorrow I start for Europe, to re
main for a long time, and it was nec
essary for me to speak with you first.
I am sorry to see that you have been
“You are too good.” he answered,
the old antagonism stirring him strong
ly. “As you observe, I was not for
tunate enough to finish myself com
pletely in the late wreck.” 4,
“One sometimes feels like that.’
she coincided, passing one small gloved
hand across the soft fur of her muff
“I have wished for the finish. her<
lately, for my part. You probably did
not know that I was engaged to marry
Archer Ross, of the Atalanta Automo
Stanton sat erect. All Floyd's »us
[■ic'.ons of this girl rushed back to his
“Yes,” she confirmed the thought In
his expression. “What you are imagin
ing is quite correct I tried very hard
to induce you to drive for the Atalanta
Company instead of for the Mercury.
The Atalanta absolutely required a
good racing record. But I failed. You
were more than firm in your decision.”
So that had been what she wanted
of him. That had lain behind her
polished surface of gracious admira
tion and had been the core of her in
"And when I would not drive for
your company, you tried to prevent
me from driving for my own?” He
She looked at him, and looked away
“I fancy you would scarcely credit
me. Mr. Stanton, if I denied the fact,
now. I have been very clumsy; a so
ciety woman is not trained to practical
melodrama. You are unbelievably dif
ficult to lead.”
Her flawless self-possession gave an
efTect of unreality to the whole afTair.
Stanton felt a vertigo of the mind.
"You had that purpose in view
when you first spoke to me at the
Beach twenty-four hour rece?” he .
questioned. “You hoped to induce ]
me to wreck my car by fast driving. In
order to leave the Atalanta a better
chance of winning?”
“Oh, no!" she deprecated. “I never
tried to cause your wreck—what can
you think me? No. that was merely
an impulsive experiment; I wanted to
see if you would do as I wished. Some
men have done so.”
“Are you going to tell me that you
drugged me at Lowell, on the eve of
the road race?”
“Drugged you? That is a harsher
description than I ever gave the inci
dent in my own mind. But I poured
into your cofTee what Archer Ross had
given me for that purpose. He said it
would not harm you, only prevent you
from driving next morning; he had
been betting heavily on his car. But
you raced, after all, ill as you must
have been. I never imagined you would
take such a risk, or I should have re
fused the responsibility. I disliked the
task, anyhow. To be frank. 1 was hor
ribly frightened when I saw you on
he course, and when the report of
your accident came in, I felt guilty of
He looked at her. at her ivory-and
golc beauty, her composed ease, his
own face coldly emotionless. It did
not matter, nothing mattered, now.
But yet he read that behind that ap
parent ease of hers heaved a sea of
stormy thoughts; as always, her speech
was no guide to her mind.
“I suppose, then, that you would
not have been distressed if I had
broken my arm when I cranked your
car after driving you home from New
York.” he commented.
Her color changed for the first time,
her eyes flashed to his.
“You angered me.” she retorted.
“You brutally told me that you had
not raced at the Beach, to please me,
nor would you do so. You were super
cilious, no man had ever treated me
that way Before. For one instant I did
hate and long to hurt you; I pushed
up the spark as you cranked. The
next moment I would have undone it
if I could.”
There was a pause, as the train halt
ed at a station, and the usual flurry of
egress and ingress ensued. When the
start was made:
“Why are you telling me this?”
Stanton asked. “I am not considered
especially amiable and forgiving, as a
rule: why chance unnecessary con
“No,” her lip bent in a faint smile
that was not mirthful. “But you are
too masculine to retaliate upon a
woman. I am not much afraid, ml
Stanton Surveyed Him With/Blank
though I find myself forced to depend
upon your indulgence. A net was
spread for the feet of the wicked' by
some one more acute, or less indiffer
ent, than the Mercury’s driver. Your
—mechanician set a private detective
at the task of following and guarding
you until after the Cup race; fearing
treachery, I suppose, would be used to
prevent your driving. You are aur
He saw the crowded railway station,
on the morning of the return from In
face Turned To hiu, in the artitic.a!
light. He heard the fresh young
voice: “If you won’t take care of
"There was no need, Mr. Stanton. I
had no idea of interfering with you
personally. But the thing was done,
and overdone. The man hired to play
letectlve was not honest: he exceed
ed his mission of protection and went
on to investigation for his own profit,
f I am telling you this, it is because
ou would soon hear the story from
. ilm, anyhow, and because I want you
to silence him. He has offered me his
silence for a price, but I do not
choose to yield to a blackmail which,
once commenced, would never end. I
prefer to ask shelter of your chivalry.”
“I will silence him,” he gave cold as
“You are very good. It is not the
least of my humiliations to know that
you could deal me nothing more con
temptuous than your forbearance.”
She hesitated. “There is one thing
more: I would like to ask whether
your recent accident was in any way
caused by the late arrival of the tires
for your machine.”
“You did that?”
“Yes. I did that I had the express
car misdirected before it left my fa
ther’s factory in Chicago. I knew
your car could not race on bare rims.”
Stanton turned to the window. So
she was responsible for the last harsh
ness he had shown Floyd: since their
misunderstanding could never have
arisen if the mechanician had not
been absent on the trip to Coney Is
land. His sudden nausea of loathing
for her made calm reply difficult.
“The lost tires had nothing to do
with the accident,” he explained care
fully. “If you have quite finished.
Miss Carlisle, I will change to another
' it is I who am going. I am glad
that the wreck and alteration In you
“God,” Breathed Stanton, and Sank
Into a Chair.
are not my fault It may Interest you
to learn that Archer Ross broke his
engagement to me last week, to marry
a chorus girl.”
He looked at her, then.
"Yes,” she agreed. "Dramatic pun
ishment is it not? You can regale
Miss Floyd with the tale. You are on
your way to her. of course.”
She rose, drawing around her the
heavy folds of velvet. He saw now
the faint lines about her delicate
mouth and the new hardness of her
tawnv eyes. She had suffered, was
“Congratulate her from me. Mr.
Stanton. At least she has known a
man, whatever it has cost her.”
Yes, Floyd had played a man's part
Whatever the anguish of losing him,
it was a matter of congratulation to
have known him. It never occurred to
Stanton that Valerie Carlisle might
have meant him, himself.
It was afternoon when Stanton ar
rived in New York, among the snow
sprinkled, hilarious crowds that
thronged the streets. And then he
first realized that this was the day be
fore Christmas. Christmas? Holiday?
With a vague impulse to escape it all,
he hailed a taxicab. A girl with her
arms full of holly brushed past him as
he reached the curb, a man in uniform
stopped him with a hastily recited
plea for aid to the hungry poor. At
him Stanton looked, and put a yellow
bill in the outstretched hand.
"Sir!” the man cried, pursuing him
with ready book and pencil. “What
name? So generous—”
“Floyd,” Stanton answered, and
stepped into the vehicle.
me aaaress ne gave to tne cnaui
feur was that of the quiet up-town
The little old Irishwoman clad In
black silk opened the door. He fan
cied she had aged, but on - eeing him
she broke into bramin r smiles and
ushered him in with *=ag< • ’ me.
The girl who was li’ c F wa »
standing in the fire'.it rc i. S ar
ton paused on the ihres mid, he re
treated against the winc w c; -si ,
her fingers winding ther.;; '.v< hard
Into the draperies, her marvelor -a;*
eyes wide and fevered. So the.- r ;eil
at each other, dumb.
"You can not bear to see me?” Stan
ton first found voice. “I have no right
to blame you—God knows I under
stand. Yet Floyd would tell you that
it was not my fault. I did not throw
away his life by recklessness.”
She gazed at him still, yet it seemed
to him that during a brief second
consciousness had left her and return
ed. that now she looked at him differ
ently, almost wildly.
“I have been near death, also," he
resumed. “I have seen no newspa
pers, I do not know what they have
told you. But the accident was pure
accident: If ha mnld.have been here.
To be continued
Musical sands have been known for
1,000 years and it is believed tbat
there is a reference to them in one
of the tales of the “Arabian Nights."
But nature produces much finer re
sults. There is the Mountain of the
Bell on the shores of the Red sea,
which makes extraordinary sounds
and boomings when the winds set the
countless millions of particles rubbing
against each other and vibrating.
Patients From Many Citias Taking
Now that harvest is over many vic
tims of chronic ailments have enrolled
for a course of treatment at the
offices of the German Doctors, 108 E.
3rd St., Grand Island, Xebr.
Their extensive practice have made
them so proficient that diseases are
diagnosed in a few minutes, and
rapid results follow cases accepted for
treatment. The resident offices are
maintained for the benefit of patients
in this vicinity who appreciate the
! saving of travel, time and expenses,
' yet receive the same skilled services
given at the home offices in Council
They treat all curable cases of eye,
ear, nose, throat and lung diseases,
catarrh, rheumatism, gravel, paraly
sis, stomach, heart, kidney, blood and
! nervous diseases. They are especially
| equipped for bloodless treatment of
goiter, piles, rupture, cataract, en
larged veins, etc. Their system is
nearly all home treatment so that
frequent visits to their offices are not
Monday Sept. 2nd has been set as
(he free consultation date at Grand
Island offices. If impossible to call
on this date, write for consultation
CHURCH IT^ MS
J. W. Long’s graphinola was put
j into requisition at the Methodist
I church last Sunday evening, to the
great delight of the young folks.
Special services at the Methodist
church next Sunday. For full pro
gram see bulletin. All are cordially
German Evangelical church, Sep
tember 1, will be held service at Kelso
et ’ a. it. and 11:30 a. m. Sunday
I be special exercises at the
Me; d.-t cburc next Sunday.
Sve -it iristlin c uro'n next Sun
day, n : e >er 1: Suidav school at
10:3’. ; . . •„ d 11:15 a. ra. song ser
vice. S. los oy the Johnson sisters,
t xtrr, music by new string band and
remarks by the pastor. Come all and
enjoy a good time.
At the Presbyterian churcb—Ser
vices as usual Sunday. Sept. 1. At
11:30 a.m. services suitable to Labor
Day will be given. At 8 p. m., out
door services on the church lawn,
weather permitting. Bible study
service each Thursday evening.
Clear Creek Items
Claude Stapleton and Guy Weller
i left Monday for Alliance. Neb.
I Mr. J. M. Lowery left last week
j for Omaha where he will receive
| medical treatment.
Carl Amick went to Omaha last
Saturday for a vacation period to
visit a sister and brother.
Miss Grace Adams went to Broken
Bow Saturdav for a few days' visit
I Many of the people from this vicin
ity attended the Festival at Loup
City last week.
A dance was given at the home of
Mr. and Mrs. Adam Zahn last Satur
Miss Katie Smith returned home
Saturday morning from Ctica. Neb.,
where she has been visiting with
relatives for the past two weeks.
Mr. and Mrs. Geo. Zahn viisted at
the home of Mr. and Mrs, Warren
Revealed Family Secret.
The other day a teacher in a Boston
school, who had just had a present of
a very handsome hand-painted fan,
took it down to the class room for the
edification of the scholars. Very few
of them had seen anything other than
the palm leaf, or cheap Japanese fan,
and did not associate this gorgeous af
fair even with the five cent paper
things of somewhat similar shape.
Selecting perhaps the dullest of ths
pupils, the teacher held up the fan,
and asked what the lovely thing
The child did not know.
"What does your mother use to keeg
her cool in the hot weather?*’ asked
“Beer,"’ was the reply.
“This is a dreadful downpour."
“Yes. ar.d my umbrella is far tw
small to shelter your picture hat.”
“Well, try to hold It over that vel
vet bow, anyhow.”—Washington Her
For a Square Deal
J. W Dougal
State Bank Building
THEY CAME FROM SCOTLAND
Phrases “We Uns" and “You Uns" Are
Not Provincialisms of South
Northerners who visit certain parts
of the south and southwest are some
times amused by what they call south
ern provincialisms. Among these are
“we uns" and "you uns.” As a matter
of fact, the expressions are not strict
ly southern, but are used by those
who live—or used to live—in the Alle
ghenies. The mountain population
seems to be largely homogeneous, as
if descended from a common stcck.
The mountaineers have mingled lit
tle with the people of the lower coun
try, and being isolated, have preserved
some of the peculiarities of speech and
custom brought from the mother coun
try, which the rest of us have aban
doned. “We uns” is not even a true
Americanism; it is common even now
in Scotland, whence it was doubtlesa
imported to our mountains by the
hardy Scotch immigrants.
The phrase is an ancient one. It
may be found In Tyndale's New Testa
ment. In Matthew 3:9 can be read:
“And see that ye ons thinke not to
saye in yourselves we have Abraham
to oure father." .
As Tyndale’s translation was print
ed In 1526, nearly 400 years ago, this
iorm of expression has the prestige
of age, and belonged to the language
of our ancestor^.—Youth's Companion.
ONLY SMOKING TWENTY NOW
Scheme of Slave to Weed to Keep
Doctor From Cutting Off
Joseph Jefferson. Jr., repeats a yarn
that his father used to tell concerning
a friend of the elder Jefferson who
was an inveterate smoker.
The man was getting along in years
and found himself afflicted with some
ailment which caused him a great deal
"Why don't you consult a special
ist?" Jefferson asked him.
After thinking it over he decided
he would. Several ’ays later Jefferson
met him ana inquired as to his health,
asking if he had seen a doctor.
“Yes, 1 went to see one,” said the
“And what did he say?”
“Well, you see, I'm a great smoker,"
he answered, “and I knew he would
ask me the first thing how much I
smoked and tell me to go a little slow.
1 smoke about 20 cigars a day, and
when he asked me how many I con
sumed 1 told him on an average of 40.
‘That’s too many,’ he said, ‘just cut the
number in half.’ I am now smoking
Paderewski, the famous pianist, wno
recently made a tour of South Africr,
complained bitterly of tile t aatment
he received from South Africans.
When he was coming down the coast
from Durban, he told an interviewer
that he was playing very softly on
the ship's piano when a man came up
to him and said: "Here, you stop that
noise:-’ “I stopped playing at once,”
said M. Paderewski, “and then the
man went into the smoking room to
his friends, and they roared with
laughter when he told them he had
stopped me playing. He was not con
tent with insulting me, but he must
also go up on deck, where my secre
tary was painting, and throw biscuit
crumbs all over the picture. What a
country! How could one be happy
in a country where there is no un
derstanding of real art? They have
no idea of art, no sentiment for it,
and no desire for it”
When the Sleeper Woke.
There is a prominent lawyer in New
York who finds an after-dinner nap
an absolute necessity. He cannot keep
awake and the habit of drifting off for
a few moments, no matter where nor
how, brings him frequent embarrass
ments. Recently his wife saw him
doze while talking to a distinguished
judge who was their dinner gue6t, but
she was clever and quick enough to
divert the visitor’s attention to her
self, so that the lapse passed unno
ticed at the time. Unfortunately, just
as the host regained a stupid half
consciousness the guest rose to de
part. The lawyer stepped forward
with his most courteous greeting.
“How do you do. Judge?” he in
quired, smothering a yawn. “Why, I
never saw you looking better. I hope
you’re going to stay to dinner with
Sticking Up for Socrates.
I It was the occasion of the British
! association's gathering, in the vicin
ity of St. Davidis. Bishop Thirlwall
1 had invited all the leading men, save
i one, to an entertainment at the pai
j ace. The exception was Dr. Forcham
mer, who, feeling that he was the vic
j tim of an oversight, mentioned the
matter to Jlonckton Milnes. “Oh. it
is a mere incident,” said the poet. “I
i will speak to the Bishop and put that
' right.” He did speak to the Bishop.
“By some mischance Dr. Forchammer
has not been invited to the palace; of
course, you mean him to go?” he said.
“No, indeed, I don’t,” said the Bishop.
! “Nothing would Induce me to ask un
der my roof a man who has defended
the execution of Socrates!”—Dundee
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