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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 16, 1913)
From 40 to 50 Woman’s Critical Period. Such warning symptoms as sense of suffocation, hot flashes, severe headaches, melancholia, dread of impending evil, palpitation of the heart, irregularity, constipation and dizziness are promptly treated by intelligent women who are approaching the period of life. This is the most critical period of woman’s life and she who neglects the care of her health at this time invites in curable disease and pain. - Why not be guided by the ex perience of others and take Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound ? It is an indisputable fact that this grand old remedy has helped thousands of women to pass through this trying period with comfort and safety. Thousands of genuine and honest testimonials support this fact Prom Mrs. HENRY HEAVILIN, Cadiz, Ohio. Fort Worth, Texas. — “I have taken Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegeta ble Compound and derived great benefit from its use. It carried me safely through the Change of Life when I was in bad health. I had that all gone feeling most of the time, and headache constantly, I was very nervous and the hot flashes were very bad. I had. tried other remedies and doctors, but did not improve until I began taking Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound. It has now been sometime since I took the Compound and I have had no return of my old complaints. I always praise your remedies to weak women.”—Mrs. LLexrv Hkavilin, R F. D. No. 5, Cadiz, Ohio. From Mrs. EDWARD B. HILBERT, Fleetwood, Pa. Fleetwood, Pa.—“During the Change of Life I was hardly able to be around at alL I always had a headache and I was so dizzy and nervous that I had no rest at night The flashes of heat were so bad sometimes that I did not know what to do. “ One day a friend advised me to take Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vege table Compound and it made me a strong, well woman. I am very thankful that I followedmy friend’s advice,and I shall recommend ifc as long as I live. Before I took the Compound I was always sickly and now I have not had medicine from a doctor for years. You may publish my letter.”—Mrs. Edward B. Hilbert, Fleetwood, Pa. From Mrs. F. P. MULLENDORE, Munford, Ala. Munford, Ala.—“ I was so weak and nervous while passing through the Change of Life that I could hardly live. My husband had to nail rubber on all the gates for I could not stand to have a gate slam. “ I also had backache and a fullness in my stomach. I noticed that JLyuia XL. rmKnam s vegeiauie ^uuiixjuiiu \>as au vertised for such cases and I sent and got a bottle. It did me so much good that I kept on taking it and found it to be all you claim. I recommend it to all women afflicted as I was.”—Mrs. F. P. Mullen* dore, Munford, Ala. ^^teWrite to LYDIA E.PIN'KHAM MEDICINE CO. (CONFIDENTIAL) LYNN, MASS.,foradvice. Your letter will be opened, read and answered by a woman and. held in strict confidence. llp'^P^WANTED1^*! i HOMES FOR THE FAMOUS N$|i’ IfFAULTLESS STARCH DOLLSnMJ W/8end 6 tops from ten cent packages of FanltlessU fl Starch and ten cento in stamps (to cover post age V ■/ and packing) and get Miss Elizabeth Ann,22 inches 1 If high. Bend three tops from ten cent packaaes and 1 If four cento in stamps and get Miss Phoebe Primm or II Mias Lily White, twelve Inches high. Bendtopsfrom l\ five cent packages if yon wish, but twice aa many are required. Cr.t this ad. out. It will be accepted in J m\ place of one ten cent or two five cent tops. Only / one ad. will be accepted with each application. Jk 'Write your name and address plainly. Jm jTHE IEST STARCH FOR AU FORMStj /ft pl^FAULTLESS STARCH C0.^jj| § |/\|!' |||! I: Pleasing the Public. “Most popular district attorney New j York ever had.” “How so?" “Always timed his gambling house , raids to accommodate the theater crowds." Important to Mothers Examine carefully every bottle of CASTORIA, a safe and sure remedy for infants and children, and see that it Bears the Signature of i ^ In Use For Over 30*Years. Children Cry for Fletcher’s Castoria Buying a Bird. “This canary is a German bird, madam; a great singer." “I don't know,” murmured the bride doubtfully. “Will he sing In German?” Why Old Backs Ache What a pity that so many persons past middle age are worried with lame backs, aching kidneys, poor eyesight, sick head ache, dizziness, gravel, dropsy or dis tressing urinary ills. Kidney weakness brings these discomforts in youth or age and is a dangerous thing to neglect, for it leads to Bright’s disease and uric acid poisoning. Doan’s Kidney Pills have brought new strength to thousands of lame backs—have rid thousands of annoying urinary trouble. Aa ArKantai Case C. A. Hendricks. “Berry Picture R°»c Hill, De TeU$ a Story." w» 1 Queen, Ark., says: *'T wnn Inlnrotl I \T and my kidneys Jj were weakened I tJ suffered a great |P deal from kidney disorder and I had graveL I took all kinds of medicine, but found no re lief until I used *; Doan’s Kidney Pills. Two boxes cured me and I haven’t suffered Cat Doan’s at Aar Stare. 50c a Boa DOAN'S V/UV* FOSTERAULBURN CO.. BUFFALO. N. Y. j The Army of Constipation Is Growing Smaller Every Day. E& Sick Haadack, Sallow SUa. SMALL PILL, SMAIJ. DOSE, SMALL PRICE. Genuine most bear Signature BatConcklynp. Tmu* Om4. Tm lati—. iolOyPnwcIrt*. | I Naturally Qualified. "Why can't they get along with tha' stock?" “It wouldn't hold water." “Then they ought to be able to floa: it all right.” Husbands. Miss Helen Travers, the presides of the Bachelor Girls' club of Duluth said in a toast, “The Men,” at tht club's nineteenth anniversary: “And now we come to the man as husband. Man as husband may be di vided into two classes—he whose meals disagree with him. and he who disagrees with his meals." / Alert Censor. While Abdul Hamid w’as still upon the thone of Turkey, the president of the American Missionary college at Tarsus sent to New York for a large consignment of textbooks. In due time all except the chemistries came safe ly. At first the president could not find out what was the matter, but finally the commissioner of the port sent for him. “Christian," he said, sternly, “it is not for you to complain. It is for you to give thanks to Allah that you did not follow your diabolical books into the flames. Here is one copy that we saved for a witness. Not all of its deadly ciphers could we read, but this is plain even to the eye of a babe." Pointing to the symbol H20, he read with triumphant air and voice, “Ham id Second is Nothing!”—Youth's Com panion. A FOOD DRINK Which Brings Daily Enjoyment. A lady doctor writes: ' Though busy hourly with my own affairs, 1 will not deny myself the pleas ure of taking a few minutes to tell of my enjoyment daily obtained from my morning cup of Postum. It is a food beverage, not an irritant like coffee. "I began to use Postum 8 years ago, not because I wanted to, but because coffee, which I dearly loved, made my nights long, weary periods to be dread ed and unfitting me for business during the day. "On advice of a friend, I first tried Postum, making it carefully as sug gested on the package. As I had al ways used ‘cream and no sugar.' I mixed my Postum so. It looked good, was clear and fragrant, and it was a pleasure to see the cream color it as my Kentucky friend wanted her cof fee to look—‘like a new saddle.’ "Then I tasted it critically, for I had tried many ‘substitutes’ for coffee. I was pleased, yes, satisfied with my Postum in taste and effect, and am yet, being a constant user of it all these years. I continually assure my friends and acquaintances that they will like it in place of coffee, and receive benefit from its use. I have gained weight, can sleep and am not nervous.” Name given by Postum Co., Battle Creek, Mich. Write for the little book, “The Road to Wellville.” Postum comes in two forms: Regular Postum—must be well Instant Postum is a soluble powder. A teaspoonful dissolves quickly in a cup of hot water and, with cream and sugar, makes a delicious beverage in stantly. Grocers sell both kinds. “There's-a reason" for Postum. BY \ JOHN BEECKENMDGE ELLIS ILUUSTQATION S BY' ,,0-nsviN-mEBS SYNOPSIS. Fran arrives at Hamilton Gregory’? home in Littleburg. but finds him absent conducting the choir at a camp meeting. She repairs thither in search of him laughs during the service and is asked t leave. Abbott Ashton, superintendent of schools, escorts Fran from the tent. He tells her Gregory is a wealthy man. deeply Interested in charity work, and a pillar of the church. Ashton becomes greatly Interested in Fran and while tak ing leave of her. holds her hand and is seen by Sapphira Clinton, sister of Rob ert Clinton, chairman of the school board. Fran tells Gregory she wants a home with him. Grace Noir. Gregory’s private secretary, takes a violent dislike to Fran and advises her to go away at once. Fran hints at a twenty-year-old secret, and Gregory in agitation asks Grace to leave the room. Fran relates the story of how Gregory married a young girl at Springfield while attending college and then deserted her. Fran is the child of that marriage. Gregory had married his present wife three years before the death of Fran’s mother. Fran takes a llkine to Mrs. Gregory. Gregory explains that Fran is the daughter, of a very dear friend who is dead. Fran agrees to the story. Mrs. Gregory insists on her making her home with them and takes her to her arms. Fran declares the secretary must go. Grace begins nagging tactics in an effort to drive Fran from the Gregory home. Abbott, while taking a walk alone at midnight, finds Fran on a bridge tell ing her fortune by cards. She tells Ab bott that she is the famous lion tamer. Fran Nonpareil. She tired of circus life and sought a home. Grace decides to ask Bob Clinton to go to Springfield to Inves tigate Fran's story. Fran offers her services to Gregory as secretary during the temporary absence of Grace. The lat ter. hearing of Fran’s purpose, returns and interrupts a touching scene between father and daughter. Grace tells Gregory she intends to marry Clinton and quit his aervice. He declares that he cannot con tinue his work without her. Carried away bv passion, he takes her in his arms. Fran wralks In on item, and declares that Grace must leave the house at once. To Gregory’s consternation he learns of Clinton’s mission to Springfield. Clinton returns from Springfield and. at Fran’s requ€*st, Abbott urges him not to discuss what he has learned. On Abbott’s assur ance that Grace will leave Gregory at once. Clinton agrees to keep silent. Driv en Into a corner by the threat of ex posure. Gregory is forced to dismiss Grace. Grace is offered the job of book keeper in Clinton’s grocery store. Greg ory’s infatuation leads him to seek Grace at the grocery. He finds her alone and tells her the story of his past. Grace points out that as he married the pres ent Mrs. Gregory before the death of Fran’s mother, he is not now legally mar ried. They decide to flee at once. They attempt to escape during the excitement of a slreet fair and are forced to enter the Hon tent to avoid Clinton. CHAPTER XXIII.—Continued. The show-girl was fastened in the central cage. ■> The clowns raised the inner doors, and the Wons shot trom their cramped quarters swift as tawny arrows. They were almost against the slight figure, without seeming to abserve her. For the .fourth time since noon they stood erect, sniffing the air. their bodies unconfined by galling tim bers and chilling iron. For the fourth time this day, they were to be put through their tricks by force of fear. They hated these tricks, as they hated the small cages in which they could not lash their tails. They hated the “baby carriage’’ in which one was presently to sit, while the other pushed him over the floor, his sullen majesty sport for the rabble. They hated the board upon which they must see-saw, while the woman stood in the middle, preserving equilibrium. But greater than the lion’s hatred, was their fear of the woman; and greater than their fear of her was their terror of that long serpent which, no matter how far it might dart through space, remained always in the woman’s hand. They well knew its venomous bite, and as they slunk from side to side, their eyes were upon its coiling black tongue. “I met Fran on the street," mur mured Abbott, as he watched, unblink ingly. “She said she was going to visit a sick friend. When did you see Fran last, Simon?” "Don’t know,” Simon said, discour agingly. “Now they’re going to see saw.^ The black-maned one is the hardest to manage. I reckon, one day. he'll just naturally jump afoul of her, and tear her to pieces. Look at him! 1 don’t believe this girl is going to make him get up on top of that board. My! how he is showing his teeth at her. Say! This iB a pretty good show, hey? Glad you came, uh? Say! Look at his teeth!” In truth, the black-maned lion opened his mouth to a frightful extent, making, however, not the slightest sound. He refused to budge. Abbott shuddered. “Samson!” cried the woman, im pellingly. The other lion was patient ly standing on his end of the board, waiting. He seemed fast asleep. Sam son, however, was wide awake and every cruel tooth was exposed as he stretched his mouth. In his amber eyes was the glow of molten copper. Suddenly Samson wheeled about. and made a rush for his end of the sec-saw. He stepped upon it. He was conquered. Hi3 haste to obey, evi dently the result of fear and hatred, produced a ripple of laughter. 'I he other lion, feeling the sudden tremor of Samson’s weight, opened his eyes suddenly and twitched his tail. He was not asleep, after all. Abbott found himself intensely nerv ous. He longed to have it all over, anxious, above all, to prove his fears groundless. Yet how were so many coincidences to be explained away? Fran had been a show-girl, a trainer of lions, and Abbott distinctly remem bered that she had spoken of a “Sam son." Fran had just these movements and this height. He missed Fran’s mellow voice, but voices may be dis guised; and the hands now raised to ward the audience may have been stained dark. Who was that “sick friend” that Fran had possibly men tioned only as an excuse for escaping? Was that a subterfuge? And w'hy this red mask which, according to Simon Jefferson, was an innovation? At every trick, the black-maned lion balked. When the time came for the clown to hand the woman her violin he was afraid, and withdrew his arm with marvelous rapidity. His grotesque dis guise could not hide his genuine un easiness. The members of the band, too, played their notes with unusual care, lest the slightest deviation from routine work bring catastrophe. Noth ing had gone right but the see-sawing act; but of all this, the crowd was ig norant. ' After the violin playing—“Now.” Si mon Jefferson announced, gleefully, “there’s only one more act. but it’s a corker, let me tell you—that's why she's, resting a minute. La Gonizetti gets astride of Samson—the one that’s mad—and grabs his mane, and pre tends to ride like a cowboy. Galls her self a rough rider. Makes Samson get on top of that table, then she gets on top of him.” “But this isn’t La Gonizetti,” Abbott protested, shuddering again. “Now you’ve said something. That's right. But it looks like she’s game— she’ll try it—we'd better stand a little farther back.” a iianu was laiu upon ADDOU s arm. ‘'Abbott," said the voice of Robert Clinton, harsh from smothered excite ment. "You went to Gregory's house —did you see him?” Abbott did not hear. The refractory lion, knowing that his time had come to be ridden, was asserting his inde pendence. He would not leap upon the table. The other lion stood watch ing sleepily to see if he would obey. "That you. Clinton?” Simon’s greeting was tense with enjoyment. “Got here for the best of it didn’t you! Seems to me I saw Gregory somewhere not long ago, but I wasn’t thinking about him.” "Hercules!” the masked woman ad dressed the gentler of the lions. "Go to your place. Hercules—go to your place!” Hercules turned to his blue box, and seated himself upon it, leaving his tail to take care of itself. The show-girl was fiercely address ing the black-maned lion. “Now! Now! To the table! To the table!” Samson did not budge. Facing the woman of the mask, he opened his mouth, revealing the red cave of his throat—past the ivory sentinels that not only stood guard, but threatened, one could look down and down. This was no yawn of weariness, but a sign of rebellion—a sort of noiseless roar. The trainer retreated to the farther side of the cage, then made a forward rush, waving her whip, and shouting clangorously, “Up, Samson, up Sam son, up!” She did not pause in her course till close to his face. Again he opened his mouth, baring every tooth, voiceless, but uncon quered. Hercules, finding that affairs had come to a halt, slowly descended from his box, keeping his half-opened eyes upon the woman. Restlessly he be gan to pace before the outer door. The slight figure withdrew several steps, then smote the rebellious lion a sharp blow across the mouth. He snapped at the lash. It slipped away from between his teeth. Having res cued her whip, she shouted to the oth er lion: “Back to your place, Hercules. Hercules—back to your place!" She stood pointing sternly toward the box, but Hercules stretched him self across the place of exit and lay watching her covertly. The faces of the band boys had be come of a yellowish paleness. Front behind the mask came the voice so loud that it sounded as a scream—“Up, Samson, up, Samson— up!” Then it was that Samson found his voice. A mighty roar shook the loose ly-set bars of the central cage—they vibrated visibly. The roar did not come as one short sharp note of de fiance; it rose and fell, then rose anew, varying in the inflections of the voice of a slave who dares to threaten, fears even while he threatens, and gathers passion from his fear. At that fearful reverberation, the audience started up, panic-stricken. Hitherto, the last act had been regard ed as a badly-played comedy; now tragedy was in the air. Gregory and Grace Noir at that in stant, became alive to their surround ings. Hitherto, despising the show, re bellious at the destiny which had forced them to attend it, they had been wholly absorbed in their efforts to escape observation. The roaring of the lion startled them to a perception of the general alarm. Grace clung to Gregory. “Oh. save me!” she panted hysterically. The voice of the woman behind the bars rang throughout the tent—“Sit down!" The voice was not loud, now, but singularly penetrating. “Sit down, all of you, and remain absolutely mo tionless, or I am lost." Grace Noir, her eyes closed, her cheeks pallid, leaned her head upon Gregory's shoulder, quivering convul sively. “There, there," Gregory' whispered in her ear, soothingly, “everything will be all right.” The masked woman for the second time addressed the terrified audience, still not venturing to turn her head in their direction; “Whoever moves, or speaks, or cries aloud, will be my mur derer. I have only one hope left, and I’m going to try it now. I ask you people out there to give me just this "Samson, Up! Samson, Up! Samson, Up!" one chance for my life. Keep absolute ly still.” Again Samson uttered his terrible roar. It alone was audible. Tier above tier, faces rose to the tent-roof, white and set. The audience was like one huge block of stone in which only faces have been carved. The penetrating voice addressed the band boys: “Don’t play. He can tell you’re frightened." The agitated music ceased. Then the woman walked to the far cherest side of the inclosure. In do ing so she was obliged to pass the crouching Vform of HerculP", but she pretended not to know he was there; she moved slowly backward, always facing Samson. At last the vertical bars prevented farther retreat. Then she lifted her hand slowly, steadily, and drew off her crimson mask. It dropped at her feet. Despite the muffled street-noises that never ceased to rumble from afar, the (COPYRIGHT 1912 ^ B08B5-MERRILL CO.) ^ w . rs.'. -hw** 'y \ whispering sound of the silken mask, as it struck the plank floor of the cage, was distinctly audible. “Grace!” Gregory whispered in hor ror—“it’s Fran!” Grace started from his embrace at the name and glared down upon the stage. She sat erect, unsupported, petrified. Gregory’s brow was moistened with a chilled dew. “It’s Fran,” he mum bled, “it’s Fran! Grace—pray for her!” Fran looked Samson steadily in the eyes, and Samson glared back fixedly. For a few moments, this quiver be tween life and death remained at the breaking point. Had a stranger at that moment looked under the tent entrance, he might have thought every body asleep. There was neither sound nor movement. Grace whispered—“It is the hand of God!” Her tone was almost inaudible, but Gregory shrank as from a mortal blow; its sinister meaning was unmis takable. Swiftly he turned to stare at her. In Grace’s eyes was a wild and om inous glare akin to that of the threat ening lion. It was a savage conviction that Fran was at last confronted by the justice of heaven. Suddenly Fran crouched forward till her head was almost on a level with her waist, in so much that it was a physical exertion to hold her face up lifted. In this sinuous position she was the embodiment of power. If she felt misgivings concerning this last resource, there was no look to betray it. Straight toward Samson she rushed, her body lithe and serpentine, her direction unerring. To the beast, Fran had become one of those mysterious flying serpents which bite from afar. He felt the sting of her terrible eyes and his gaze grew shifty. It wandered away, and. on returning, found her teeth bared, as if feeling for his heart. Rushing up to his very face—“Sam son!” she cried, impeliingly. Again he seemed to feel the lash upon his tawny skin. “Samson. Up, Samson, up, Samson —up! Suddenly Samson wheeled about, and leaped upcn the table. Fran stamped her foot at the ether lion. "Go to your place, Hercules!” she cried, with something like con tempt. Hercules slowly rose, stretched him self, then marched to his box. He looked from Fran to the immovable Samson waiting upon the table, then mounted to his place, and seemed to fall asleep. And now, at last, Fran looked at the spectators. Stepping lightly to the bars, she threw kisses this way and that, smiling radiantly. “Oh!” she cried, with vibrating earnestness, “you people out there—you can’t think how I love you! You’ve saved my life. You are perfect heroes. Now make all the noise you please." “May we move?” called a cautious voice from a few feet away. It was Abbott Ashton, with eyes like stars. Fran looked at him. wondering at his thoughts. She answered by an up ward movement of her hand. As though by a carefully rehearsed arrangement, the audience rose to its feet, hand boys and all. Such a shout! Such waving of hats and handker chiefs! Such unabashed sobs! Such inarticulateness—such graspings of neighboring hands! The spectators had gone mad with joyful relief. Fran leaped upon the table, and mounted Samson. "Now, I’m a rough rider!” she shouted, burying her hands in the mane, and lying along the lion’s back in true cowboy fashion. She plunged, she shouted loudly, but Samson only closed his eyes and seemed to sleep. After that, making the lions return to their cramped side cages was a mere detail. The show was ended. Fran, remaining in the empty cage, stood at the front, projecting her hand through the bars to receive the greet ings of the crowd. Almost every one wanted to shake hands with her. “Look, look!” Simon Jefferson sud denly grasped Robert Clinton's hand, and pointed toward the tent-roof. "There they are!” w - Something very strange had hap pened up there, but it was lost to Clinton’s keen jealous gaze—one of those happenings in the soul, which, however momentous, passes unob served in the midst of the throng. “Not so fast!” Grace cautioned Gregory. "We must wait up here till the very last—don’t you see Mr. Clin ton? And Simon Jefferson is now pointing us out. We can’t go down that way—” “We!" Gregory harshly echoed. “We! I have nothing to do with you. Grace Noir. Go to him, if you will.” Grace turned ashen pale. “What do you mean?” she stammered. "You tell me to go to Mr. Clinton?” "I tell you to go where you please That girl yonder is my daughter, do you understand? Don’t hold me back! I shall go to her and proclaim her as my child to the world. Do you hear me? That’s my Fran!” Grace shrank back in the suspicion that Hamilton Gregory had gone mad like the rest of the crowd. Do you mean that you never want to see me again? Do you mean that you want me to marry Mr. Clinton?” "I do not care what you do." he said, still more roughly. “You do not care?” she stammered, bewildered. "What has happened? You do not care—for me?" She looked deep into his eyes, but found no incense burning there. The shrine was cold. "Mr. Gregory! And after all that has passed between us? After I have given you my—myself—” Gregory seized her arm. as if to hold her off. His eyes were burning dan gerously: "I saw murder in your heart while you were watching Fran." he whispered fiercely. “That’s my daugh ter, do you understand? I know you now, I know you now. . . .’’ Grace stared after him with blood less cheeks and smoldering eyes. Clearly, she decided, the sight of Fran’s fearful danger had unbalanced his mind. But how could he care so much about that Fran? And how could he leave her, knowing that Rob ert CHnton was beginning to climb upward with eyes fastened upon her face? But it was not the sight of Fran's danger that had for ever alienated Gregory from Grace Noir. In an in stant, she had stood revealed to him as an unlovely monster. His sensitive nature, always abnormally alive to out ward impressions, bad thrilled re sponsively to the exultation of the au dience. He had endured the agony of suspense, he had shared the universal enthusiasm. If, in a sense, he was a series of moods, each the result of blind impulse, it so happened that Grace’s hiss—"It’s the hand of God.” turned his love to aversion; she was appealing as a justification of person al hatred, to the God they were both betraying. Grace began to tremble as she watched Robert Clinton coming up. and Hamilton Gregory descending. She had trusted foolishly to a broken reed, but it was not too late to pre serve the good name she had been about to besmirch. The furnace-heat in which rash resolves are forged, was cooled. Gregory had deserted Fran's mother; he was false to Mrs. Gregory; he would perhaps have betrayed Grace in the end; but Clinton was at band, and his adoration would endure. In the meantime, the voice of Fran was to be heard above that of the happy crowd; "I love you all. You helped me do it. I should certainly have been mangled but for you per fect heroes. Yes. thank you. . . Yes, I feel fine. . . . And, oh, men and women, I could just feel your spirits holding mine up till I was so high—1 was in the clouds. That’s what subdued Samson. He knew I wasn’t afraid. He knew it! And I wanted to win out for your sakes as well as my own—yes I did! Thank you men. . . . Thank you, women. . . . Well, if here aren’t the children, too— bless your brave hearts! . . . And is that your baby? My goodness, and what a baby it is! . . . No, I’m not a bit tired—” She stopped suddenly, on feeling a crushing grip. She looked down, a frown forming on her brow, but the sun shone clear when she saw Abbott Ashton. She gaye him a swift look, as if to penerate his inmost thoughts. (TO BE CONTINUED.) LIKE PIRATE DAYS OF OLD Men Who Were Shanghaied From Norfolk, Va-, Seek Satisfaction From Authorities. The days of the oyster pirates and old wind jammers were recalled when Walter McGtrth, son of a North Caro lina farmer, and Ebert Cocran, son of a former Pittsburg banker, told how they had been changhaied at the point of a pistol and forced to work their way as seamen to Hamburg when they thought that they were golffg to ship to Boston, say^ the Philadelphia Times. The immigration authorities are hand ling the case and a deputy United States marshal, accompanied by the two men, is on the way to Norfolk | to arrest the agent who shipped them. The two young men met last Nov ember in Norfolk, Va. Both were out of employment and sought work about the docks. They were met, according to their story, by an alleged crew ship ping agent, who offered to book them on the steamer Dortmund of the Ham burg-American line, which was lying at the docks. The young man were told that the ship was bound for Bos , ton. They accompanied the agent to | an office. They Bay that they met a Swede on the way and he consented to go along. The three were asked to sigh ship ping papers, but the Swede refused to sign until he had read them. This i angered the agent, who is alleged to have drawn a revolver and knocked the Swede unconscious. The young men say that they were given about $3 worth of clothing and put aboard the ship. Then they learned that they were bound for Ham burg instead of Boston, but were forced to work. When the steamer reached the other side of the Atlantic the young men went to Consul Gen eral Skinner at . Hamburg and lodged their complaint. Mr. Skinner sent them back to this country to make their complaint to the immigra tion authorities. Our Haughty Crests. The feathers of the day are not suit ed to the locomotion of the day. A lady who has one of the new c tart low automobiles, end several of » the new, long, upstanding plumes adorning her new small hats, finds the task of reconciling her ueadgearwith her way of getting around rather tem per-trying. If she only had to lower her haughtv crest and butt into her car like a goat at a cat, it would be only temporary inconvenience. Once in. the plume is again in the way of the roof, and must either be injured or its wearer’s head must be bowed as if in grief for the whole of the jour ney. Holes could, no doubt, be made in the top of cars for hat trimmings to go through in fine weather. These might be regarded in the light of roof gradens or roof feather farms, and would snrely enhance the appearance of covered cars. After all. knights of old wore their plumes above closed visors!—London Sketch. Not Her Fault. Mr. Robinson—What a singular girl you are, Miss Jones! Miss Jones (coyly)—Well, that can be altered, you know.—Stray Stories. [IRVING WAS NOT ALL MIND ■ English Actor One of the Most Lov able of Men, According to Life long Associate. It has been said of Irving that he lacked feeling, that he was all mind and no heart. Speaking to me, Miss Ellen Terry said: “He is gentle, not tender.” The late Henry Labouchere wrote of him that “he was always act ing.” Greater errors could not have been made. Irving knew enough of human nature to know that it is fre quently selfish and in many ways in firm, and he realized that "there is no art to find the mind’s construction in the face,” but, essentially, he was one of the most loving and lovable of men --when and where he fully trusted. He was singularly sensitive to kind ness, and any little token of remem brance that reached him from a friendly hand, if it were only a trifle— as inconsiderable aa a cravat or a cigar case—was treasured by him with a gratitude almost pathetic. But he did not “wear his heart upon his sleeve," and he did not trust many persons. He had suffered much, and he was lonely to the last He waa one of the most Intellectual persona that ever trod the stage, but those who knew him best could testify that his sympathy was as wide as the widest experience of mankind and aa deep as the deepest • feelings of com passion and tenderness that ever possessed the human heart—William Winter, in Collier’s Weekly. Pretty Story. A charming story about William Dean Howells was told at the Thurs day Evening club by a poet “When Gilbert and Sullivan," the poet said, “were touring America together I met Gilbert at a dinner, and he asked me about Mr. Howells’ books, in which he w as much interested. Among other things I said to him: ’Mr. Howells’ story of “Their Wedding Journey” is very popular. Pew young couples set off on their honeymoon nowadays without including a copy with their luggage.’ ‘Well,’ said Mr. Gilbert, ‘Sul livan and I are not a very young cou ple, but I think we’d better include j copy with our luggage, too.'” ■