.U ,.&M!ttjMferitoMM'feVMMil
THE RED CLOUD CHIEF, FRIDAY, JULY 2 1897.
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INTERNATIONAL
CHAPTER 111. (Continued.)
The day following there was a sim
ple funeral, In a solitary burial-place,
seldom used, and lying within a short
distance of tho spot where the body
was found. Mr. Lorralno defrayed tho
expenses out of his own pocket, Baw
that everything was decently, though
simply arranged, and himself read the
beautiful burial service over the coffin.
He had now no doubt in his mind that
the drowned woman was the mother of
the Infant left under his care, and that
by destroying herself she had simply
carried out her desperate determina
tion. All attempts to Identify her, how
ever, continued without avail. In
quiries were made on every side, ad
vertisements Inserted In the local
newspapers, without the slightest re
sult; no one came forward to glvo any
Information. Dut by this time the
minister's mind waa quite made up.
He would keep the child, and, with
God's blessing, rear her as his own;
ha would Justify the unhnppy mother's
dependence on his charity and loving
kindness.
So It came to pass that late in the
gloamlng of the old bachelor's life tho
.cry oa child was heard In thejonely
house"; and some how or" o7ne"r, despite
Solomon Mucklcbaoklt'a prognostica
tions, the house became brighter and
merrier for the sound. Solomon him
self soon fell under the spell, and when
a little warm with whisky he would al
lude to the child, with a comic sense
of possession, as "oor balm."
'At last, one day, thero was a quiet
christening In the old kirk, where Mr.
Lorraine had officiated so many years.
Myslo held the infant in her arms,
while Solomon stood at hand, blinking
through his horn spectacles, and tho
minister performed, tho simple cere
mony. After long and tender deliberation
the minister had fixed upon a name,
which he now gave to the poor little
castaway, who had neither father nor
mother, nor any kinsfolk In tho world
after whom she could be, called.
He christened her Marjorle Annan.
Marjorle, after that other beloved
Marjorle, who had long beforo Joined
or so he dreamed tho bright celes
tial band; Annan, after that troubled
water wherein tho miserable mother
had plunged and dlpd.
CHAPTER IV.
N A BRIGHT
morning of early
spring, between
sixteen and seven
teen years after
the e v o nts de
scribed In the first
chapters of this
story, a golden
haired young girl
.might have been
XisTgY
CtWif tfjPCr
seen tripping down
tho High street of tho market town of
Dumfries. Her dress was prettily If
not over-fashlonably cut, a straw hat
shaded her bright bluo eyes, and her
boojts anil gloves were those of a lady.
Under her arm sho carried several
books school books, to all Intents and
purposes.
Dy her side, talking to her eagerly,
was a young man about threo years her
senior.
From time to time as she tripped
along with l;er companion sho had to
stop and exchange words with passers
by who gieeted her by name; ancMrom
many of the shop doors and windows
friendly heads nodded and bright
facea beamed. It was clear that she
was well known in the llttlo town, and
a general favorite. Indeed, there were
few of the residents within a radius
of ten miles round Dumfries who did
not know something of Majorle An
nan, the foster-child 'and adopted
daughter of Mr. Lorraine.
Her companion, John Sutherland,
was fair complexioned and very pale.
Ho was plainly clad In a suit of dark
tweed, and wore a wlde-awako hat.
His wholo aspect betokened, delicate
health, and there was a Bad light in his
blue eyes which told of a thoughtful
spirit lodging within. Ills manners
were gentle end retiring in the ex
treme. "When did you come back?" Mar
jorle had asked, after Bomo previous
conversation.
"Last night, by the express from
London," answered tho young man.
"I'm going down td see" the old folk
tonight. Shall you be at the manso?"
Marjorlo nodded, smiling gayly.
"And how did you like London?" she
demanded. ''Did you see the queen?
and Westminster Abbey? and did you
go 'to tho great tabernacle to hear
Spurgeon preach?"
"No, Marjorle. My tlmo was shorj,
ancl most of my spare time was spent
nmong the pictures; but when I saw
IhCjiB.y thoUBtnds upon thousands of
masterpeceir;U ra,ade me despair of
cve'r'becomfhga painter. I thought to
myself, maybe it would be better, after
all, to bide at' home,' and stick to, weav
ing like my father,''
As ho spoke, Marjorle paused at the
corner of a quiet street, and held out
rierhajid, ... W
"I mur go to my le.ison. Cloodby."
"How are you going down?- Dy tho
wagonette?"
"Yes, Johnnie."
flPpBeHftWL
PRESS ASSOCIATION..
"So am I; wo can 90 together. Good
by till Uieni" . .
And with n warm squeeze of tho
hand the young nntn walked away.
Marjorlo stood looking after him for
a moment with a pleasant smile; then
she turned and walked down tho
street. Sho had not many yards to go
before she paused before a dlngy-look-lng
house, on tho door of which was
a brass plate with the Inscription:
M. LEON" CAUSS1DIERE,
Professor of Languages,
Sho rang the bell, and the door was
opened almost immediately by a
Scotch servant In petticoat and short
gown, who greeted her with a familiar
smile. Answering tho smllo with it
friendly nod, Marjorlo tripped along
tho lobby and knocked at .an Inner
door, which stood ajar. A clear, mu
sical voice, with an unmistakable for
eign accent, cried, "Come In," and she
entered.
Tho room was n plainly .furnished
parlor, at the center-table of which a
young man sat writing. Tho table was
littered with writing materials, books,
and Journals, and In tho window re
cess was another table, also Btrewn
with books.
The young man, who was smoking n
cigarette, looked up ns Majorle en
fered. "Ah, Is It you, Mademoiselle Mar
jorle!" ho exclaimed, smiling pleanint
ly. "I did not expect you bo early, and
I was Just smoking my cigarette You
do not mind the smoko? No? Then,
with your permission, I will smoke
on."
He spoko English fluently, though
his accent was unmistakable, and his
pronunciation of certain words pecu
liar. Personally, ho was tall and hand
some, with black hair worn very lon.
black mustache, and clean-shaven
chin. His forehead was high and
thoughtful, his eyes bright but sunk
en, his complexion swarthy. He was
dressed shabbily, but somewhat show
ily, In a coat of brown velvet, Bhirt
with turn-down collar looso at the
throat, and a crimson tie shnpen like
a true lover'B knot. He carried a pince
nez, secured .to his person by a piece
of elastic, disused, while writing or
reading, but fixed on the' nose at other
times. Through this pince-nez he now
regarded Marjorle with a very decided
look of admiration.
"I came early, monsieur," said Mar
jorle, "because I cannot come In the
afternoon. I am going home, and I
shall not bo back In Dumfries till Mon
day. Can you give mo my lesson now,
please?"
"Certainly," answered tho French
man; "I was only writing my French
correspondence, but I can finish that
when you nre gone. Will you sit thern,
mademoiselle, In the arm-chair? No?
Then In this other? We will begin t
once."
Mnrjorfe sat down and opened her
books. Tho Frenchman, taking tho
arm-chair sho had refused, regardcrt
her quietly and keenly.
"Now read, if you please," ho said,
with a wave of the hand. "Begin
whero you left off yesterday."
Marjorlo obeyed and read aloud in
a clear voice from an easy French
reading-book. From tlmo to tlmo the
teacher Interrupted her, correcting her
pronunciation.
"You advanco, mademoisollo," he
said presently. "Ah, yes, you are so
quick, so Intelligent. Now translate."
In this portion of her task also the
girl acquitted herself well, and when
she bad finished, the young man nod
ded approvingly.
"Now let us converse In French, If
you please."
But here Marjorle was at a loss, not
knowing what to talk about. She
finally took the weather as a topic, and
advanced the proposition that It was
a very fine day, but that thero would
soon be rain. Her master responded,
and, urged to higher flights of Imagi
nation, Marjorle hoped that It would
not rain till sho reached homo, as tho
public wagonette In which she was to
travel was an open one, and she did
not want to get wet. In this brilliant
strain the conversation proceeded,
Marjorle stumbling over tho construc
tion of her sentences and getting very
puzzled over tho other's volublo' an
swers when they extended to any
length. But at, laBt the lesson was
over, and the teacher expressed himself
well pleased.
"And now," ho said, with a smllo,
"we will talk the English again before
you go. ' Will you tell me something
about yourself, mademoiselle? J have
seen you so often, and yet I know bo
little. For myself, I am almost a ro
cluso, and go about not at all. Tell me,
then, about yourself, your guardian,
your home."
"I don't know what to tell ycu,
monsieur' answered Marjorle,
"Call me not 'monsieur,', but 'Mon
sieur Leon.' 'Monsieur' is bo formal
bo old." , .
' "Monsieur Leon."
"That is better.' No,w answer, rap, It
you please, You have' no father no
mother?" '1,,w-T'
The girl's eyeB filled with tears. '
"No, monsieur-.'
''Monsieur Le6flr." ' "
"No, Monsieur Leon."
"Ah, that Is sad sad to be an or- I
pban, alone In the world! I myself
havo no father, but I havo a mother
whom I adore. And you live with jtlur
guardian always?"
"Yes, monsieur Monsieur Leon. He
Is my guardian and my foster-father;
and Solomon is my foster-father, too."
"Solomon?"
"Solomon is our clerk and sexton.
He Hvgb In tho manse. He was living
there when tho minister found me,
nearly seventeen years ago."
Tho young Frenchman had nrlncn
and stood facing Marjorlo Annan.
"Ah, yes, I have heard," ho said.
"And you havo dwelt all these years,
mlgnonne, alone with those two old
mon?"
"Ycb, Monsieur Leon."
"It is terrible It Is not right! You,
who aro so young and pretty; they,
who aro bo old and dreary! And you
havo novcr seen tho world novcr trav
eled from your natlvo land! Novcr?
You havo lived In a desert, you have
never known what It Is to live! But
you aro a child, and It is not too late.
You will seo tho world somo day, will
you not? You will find somo una to
love you, to caro for you, and you will
bid adieu to this trlsto Scotland, once
and forever!"
As ho spoko very volubly, he bent
his face close to hers, smiling eagerly,
whllo his breath touched her cck.
Sho blushed slightly, and drooped her
oyes for a moment; then sho looked up
qulto steadily, and said:
"I should not caro to leave my home.
Mr. Lorraine took me to Edinburgh
oucc, but I soon wearied, and waa glad
to come back to Annandale."
"Edinburgh!" cried Monsieur Leon,
with a contemptuous gesture. "A city
where the sun never shines, and it rains
six days out of seven, what you call a
Scotch mist! You should see my coun
try, la hello France, and Paris,' tho
queen of cities of tho world! Thero
all Is light and gay; It Is Paradlso on
earth. Would you not like to seo Purls,
Mademolsllo 'arjorle?)'
"?es, monsieur, maybe I should," i
plled Marjorle; "but I'm not caring
much for the town. But I was forget
ting something, though," sho added.
"Mr. Lorralno told mo to glvo you
this."
So saying, sho drew forth a small
silk purse, and drawing thence two sov
ereigns, placed thorn on tho tabic
"Put them back Into your purao, If
you please."
"But I havo not paid you anything,
and I owo you for ten lessons."
"Never mind that, mademolEello,"
answered tho Frenchman. "Some oth
er time, if you. Insist, but not today. It
is reward enough for mo to havo &uch
a pupil. Take tho money and buy
yourself a keepsake to remind you of
me."
But Marjorle shook her little head
firmly and answered:
"Please do not ask mo, Monsieur
Leon. My guardian would be very
angry, and he sent me the money to
pay you."
The Frenchman shrugged his shoul
ders.
"Well, as you please, only I' would
not havo you think that I teach you
for tho money'B Bake nh, no. You
havo brought light and sunshine to my
heart In ray exile; when you como I
forget my sorrows, and when you go
away I am full of gloom. Ah, you
smllo, but It Is true."
"Good-bye, now, Monsieur Leon,"
said Marjorlo, moving toward tho door,
for sho felt embarrassed and almost
frightened by the ardent looks of her
teacher.
"Good-bye. You will como again on
Monday, will you not?"
"Yes, Monsieur Leon."
And Marjorlo left . the room and
passed out into the sunny street.
(TO HE CONTINUED.)
"No Flab.' X
Fine as aro tho salmon of New
Foundland, they are without honor 1c
their own country, as the following in
cident from Dr. S. T. Davis's "Carl-bou-Shootlng
In Newfoundland" will
Bhow: Our way Into the Interior wai
over a lovely pond. We bad made ac
early start, and left the foot of the
pond Just as day was breaking. Wf
had not proceeded far when the wrltei
thought ho could occasionally see the
water break with a splash in closi
proximity to tho canoe. Seated as be
was In tho bow, he turned to tho native
who was handling tho paddle in th
stern, and inquired whether there wor
any flBh In the pond.
"FlBh? No, sir, no flab, sir."
Presently, when about half-way uj
the pond, and Just as the sun was poop
ing oyer the eastern horlson, ho Haw,
not six feet from the bow of the canoe,
a magnuicent salmon rise to tho sur
face, and with a swish of his tall, dls
appear. Again the writer turned to hli
friend with tho remark-, "Daddy, did
1 unuerniann you 10 Bay inui mere wert
no flsh In this pond?'
"No flsh, sir; no, flsh."
"Yes, but I beg' your pardon I a
moment ago saw what, I took to be a
twelve or fifteen-pound salmon break
the water not six feet from the bow ol
the canoe."
"Oh, that was a salmon.. Thero arc
plenty of trout and salmon In all these
waters, but no flsK, sir. Nothing counts
as fish In these, parts but codfish, sir."
MS' Tricky. '''
"Some folks," said Uncle Eben, "Is so
tricky 'dat whea dey' comes acioit or
man'' dat's shu' 'nuft 'honespdey 'gets
skyaht an' says he mus.bo playfn' a
pow'ful deep game'. ' 'Washington
Star. a-
. Gum chewing' Is not a modern bblt
Way back In tho tlmo of tho Vedas the
Hindoo maidens chewed gum;' 'But
then, thoy4trero tincjjfecj. and -Jinew
no better.
' In England Gil boys and 489 girls Is
the normal proportion of, births a year
to every thousand of population.
2ar3SK2xxB2Em3
N Freedom
from her moun
tain height
Unfurled her
standard to tho
air,
Sho toro tho azuro
rfy robo of night,
If And set the atani
I of glory thero;
Sim mingled with
Its gorgeous dyes
The milky baldric of the skies,
And striped Its pure, celestial while
With streaklngs of tho morning light'
Then, from his mansion In the sun,
Sho called her eagle bearer down,
And gave Into his mighty hand,
Tho symbol of her chosen laud.
Majestic monarch of the cloud 1
Who rear'st aloft thy regal form,
To hear tho tempeat trumping loud,
And seo tho lightning lances driv
en, When Btrlvo the warrlorB of tho
storm,
And rolls the thunder-drum of
heaven
Child of tho sun! to theo 'tis glvon
To guard the banner of tho free,
To hover In tho sulphur smoko
To ward away tho battle-Btroko,
And bid Its blendlngs shine afar,
Like rainbows on tho cloud of war,
Tho harbingers of victory!
PREDICTIONS OF JOHN ADAMS
Extract from' it Letter to Uli Wife,
July 3, 1770.
Philadelphia, July 3, 1770.
Had a declaration of Independence
been made seven months ago, It would
havo been attended with many great
and glorious effects. Wo might, before
this hour, havo formed alliance with
foreign states. Wo should iiavo mas
tered Quebec, and been In possession
of Canada.
You will, perhaps, wonder how such
a declaration would havo Influenced
our affairs In Canada; but, If I could
write with freedom, I could easily
convince you that It would, and
explain to you tho manner how. Many
gentlemen In high stations, and of
great Influenco havo been duped, by
tho ministerial bubble of commission
ers, to treat; and In real, sincere ex
pectation of this event, which they so
fondly wished, they havo been slow
and languid' In promoting measures for
the reduction of that province. Others
there aro In the colonics who really
wished that our enterprise in Canada
would be defeated; that tho colonies
might bo brought Into danger and dis
tress between two flres, and bo thus
Induced to submit. Others really
wished to defeat tho expedition to
Canada, lest tho conquest of It should
elevate tho minds of tho pcoplo too
much to hearken to those terms of rec
onciliation which they believed would
bo offered us. These Jarring vlows,
wishes and designs occasioned an op
position to many salutary measures
which wore proposed for the support
of that expedition, and caused ob
structions, embarrassments, and stud
ied delays which havo finally lost us
the province.
All theso causes, however, In con
Junction, would not have disappointed
us If it bad not been for a misfortune
which could not havo been foreseen,
and perhaps could not have been pre
ventedI mean tho prevalence of the
smallpox among our troops. This fa
tal pestilence completed our destruc
tion. It is a frown of Providence upon
us, which we ought to lay to heart.
Dut, on the other hand, the delay of
this declaration to this 'time has, many
great advantages attending It. The
hopes ot reconciliation which were
fondly entertained by multitudes of
honest and well-meaning, though
shortsighted and mistaken people,
havo been gradually, and at last totally
extinguished. Time has been glvon
for the wholo people maturely to con
sider tho great question of independ
ence, and to ripen their Judgment, dls
slpato their fears, and allure their
hopes, by discussing it In newspapers
and pamphlets by debating It in as
semblies, conventions, committees of
safety and inspection in town and
county meetings, as well as In private
conversations! so that tho wholo peo
ple, In every colony, have now adopted
It as tholr own act. This will cement
the union, and avoid those heats, and
perbaps convulsions, which might
havo been occasioned by such a dec
laration alxmonths ago.
But tho day Is past. Tho second day
ot July, 1770, will bo a memorable
cpocha in tho history of America. I
am apt to believe that It will bo cele
brated by succeeding generations, as
tho great Anniversary Festival. It
ought to be commemorated, afe the day
of deliverance, by solemn acts of de
votion to God Almighty. It ought to
bo solemnized with pomp, shows,
games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires and
Illuminations from one end of the con
tinent to the other, from this time
forward forever.
You may think me transported with
jnthuslasm; but I am not. I am well
awaro of the toll and blood and treas
ure that It will cost us to maintain this
declaration, and support and defend
these states. Yet, through all the
gloom, I can see tho rays of light and
glory; I can see that the end Is more
than worth all the means, and that
posterity will triumph, although you
and 1 may rue, whlcfc I tope' we shall
art.
if
The riy Vfe Celebrate.
K thero Is any iWiy more- dear than
another to tho heart ot every patriotic
citizen of this bcnufllul land of ours,
it Is Independence Day Fourth of July
tho day wo cclebrato aa commemor
ating ono ot tho most heroic and prnteo
worthy struggles for liberty in tho his
tory of tho world.
After years of discouragement and
defeat, years when hopo Boomed doad,
and when tho undertaking ot tho hand
ful of brave men appeared In ovory way
too much for them, tho light camo,
tho cloudB brolro nwny, and tho biiii
Rhino of success streamod In upon tholr
almost broken and dismembered hearts
and fortunes.
With htorally nothing left to begin
with, with everything sacrificed upon
tho nltar of their country, with tho foe
formidable, rich, respected on land and
sea and known and tried ot all mon,
tho outlook for tho Colonists was dark
and disheartening almost beyond pre
cedent. But then their subllmo cour
age, novor faltered, tholr determination
knew no yielding, their hopes wcro
high nnd their nmbltlons limitless.
Sturdily, cheerily and bravely they
wont to work to reconstruct and ro
habllltnto out of tho wreck of the dis
integrated remains of a monarchlal out
post an Independent republic a home
for tho homeless, and a land and a
country that should bo of tho pcoplo
and for tho people.
Who ehall toll of the hard work, the
dark days, the weary hours, tho ach
ing heads nnd tired hands that this
dny, this red-letter day, tho day of all
tho days of nil the years ot tho history
of this great nation, roprcBontl Who
shall toll of tho anxieties, tho appre
hensions, tho sleepless hours ot dark
ness and tho alert hours of daylight
through which that unequalod band ol
patriots passed during tho first months
after tho declaration of lndepcndonco,
when they throw off at onco and for
ever tho British yoke, denied and do
lled the mother country, flung awn
their swaddling clothes and Bprang lute
tho arena to fight again, If need bo,
to Buffer, to toll, to Btrlvo to dovolop
and to bring Into a glorious fruition
this wonderfully beautiful Idea ot
American independence I
Ono day, oho object, ono spirit, on
hope, one glory, and to mako tho most
ot this day, to fill it brimful of llfo,
light, good cheer and a good tlmo gen
erally should bo tho purpoBO of overy
responelblo American citizen who calls
this beautiful country his home.
And it Is a day for powder nnd can
non, bonfire, crackers and torpedoes,
nnd small boys and games and uproar
ious fun; a day Tor long strolls
through quiet meadows and along
shady lines; a day for soldiery, and s
day for sentiment, and In Its honor let
us burn powder and blow horns and
mako th very clouds vibrato with thi
reflex action of our patriotic enthu
siasm. Now York Ledger.
THE SAME OLD STORY.
A lladly Or? ai llefore.
The Cynic Well, I know It would
result as it has. The Pessimist How's
that? The Cynic Oh, no sooner do
magazines drop to 10 cents than so
many spring Into existence that a per
son Is broke If bo tries to buy them
all.
A wooden monument has been erect
ed over George du Maurior's grave;
over the place, that Is, In Hampstead
churchyard, where the casket contain
ing bis ashes baa been, burled,
3
JOHNNY'S FOURTH.
It Cam a I.lttlf) I.nte lint lie Matt
TlitiiKt Hum ilmt the Same.
F I LIVE TO BE A
hundred years old,
I'll novcr forget
that Fourth ot
.Till V I Ynil tinn Ir
1 happened like this:
My big brother Alt.
went off to Undo
Ben's to spend his
summer vacation
nn' 'bout t wooks
'foro tho Fourth,
ma went up thoro too, for Uncle Ben's
her only brother. Sho took along tho
baby, tho sweetest little slHtcr that over
lived an' father, who'd been away a.
spoil, was ngoln' to mcot her, an' visit
to Undo Ben's. So you son thero
wasn't anybody to homo hut me, gran
ma an' tho hired girl. An' ma told her
'aforo sho left, thet, sho might go to
tho Fourth o' July, an' eho got her an
nlflred purty dress, sky bluo, 'twas, to
wear, an it hed bcadB sewed nil over
it; my, It was n stunner! I don't see
why mother can't wear sccli drosses
stead of tho gray an black onos she.
alius wears!
Well, the boys, on our Btreot, lotted
on n splendiferous tlmo. Wo didn't
enro 'bout the doln's at the center; our
cclobratlon was goln' to bo hold in tho
back nlley. Dut what should como tho
night 'foro tho Fourth, but n lottcr to
gran'ma from father nn O, my! didn't
sho feel big over it, sho wouldn't let
mo tcah it, an' hedn't I'bo good n right
to read n letter from my own father nn
ho nothln but a boy 0' hern!
Well, I got up purty early an' gran
WE HAD A JOLLY TIME,
aa was up too, nn' will you boltove It,
sho wouldn't let mo go out tho door,
an' all tho boys woro a'hootln' an '
ycllln' an' flrln oft aracmltton Ilk
sixty!
I thought suro she'd let mo go after
breakfast, but sho looked at mo stern
like, an' said: "Johnny, you must Btay
in doors fur your father said fur mo to
keep you right to homo, an' I'm goln'
to do my duty by you an' keep you rlgM
undor ray eye."
Perhaps you don't know my gran'ma
Is ono o' them sort thet never rcmbm
bors beln' youngl Yes, sho forgot' Ions
ago that Fourth o July was mado for
pIcnlcB an' good times. She's also one
o' the kind thet never goes back on
their word, so cryln', klckln' nor noth
ln' would do no good, an' mako her
change her mind one bit, but I sot
down and cried, first an orful mad sort
ot a cry, then nn' orful sorry cry, an
then I got. to sleep an' woke up moafc
starved, an' gran'ma glvo mo a big;
bowl o"- bread an' milk, far tho girl was.
gone. Well, when night como I was.
tho gladdest boy; fur 'twas tho very
longest day I'd ever 'spor lanced!
When ma como homo, tho noxt week,
I Jest told ber all about it, an' sho felt,
so bad fur me thet she almost cried,,
then she wont right to tho but'ery an'
brought me a big lot o Are crackers an'
things sho got a'foro she went uway
you know mothers never forgit a fel
ler's, wants. Sho told gran'ma all about
'em; but Bhe forgot she's got such a
good forgettcry.
Of course, 'twa'nt best to let .ma
know 'bout 'em fur I'd likely used 'cm
up 'aforo time. But I went an' got tho
neighbor boys over, if 'twas tho 13th. of."
July, an' wo bed a jolly tlmo; fur
mother made lemonado an' cako aa.'
Ice cream toll you I 'preclato mothers.)
now I
You Bee father wrote fur bcr to
keep me to home, meanln' I mustn't
go off to no celebration, an' he would
n't cared, but 'spectod I'd go out in
tbo alley '1th tho boys, an' mother told
blm to Jog gran'ma's memory 'bout the
Fourth of July amemltlon up in tho
buttery! but he forgot to say anything
about 1L
Huh! I guess those old forofnthers
knew what they was about when they
'plnted a day fur boys to mako a big
noise! 'Spect we boys couldn't stand It
If we couldn't yell all wo wanted to one
day In the year, an' Fourth of July la
Young Amerlca'B day, fur a fact. 80
a bavin' my Fourth on tho thirteenth,
wub llko eatfn' Ice cream 'thout no lea
in. It or drlnkin' soda water when tho
foam an' fizzle is goue. So'f I live to
bo a hundred, I'll not forget thet
Fourth 0' July thet I was cheated
plum out ot!" JOHNNY.
A Hack Yard Show.
One of tbo most successful Fourth ot
July evening entertainments I ever
witnessed was given by young people
in an ordinary back yard, and con
sisted of tableaux interspersed wltn
music and recitations. A platform bad
been erected at tho end of a grape
arbor. 'The fence, prottlly draped,
formed the back-ground, and foot-lights
were arranged in front ot the stage, as
was also a sliding curtain. On each
aide an ordinary clothes-line covered
with, shawls served as dressing-room,
and the audience was seated down toe
entire length ot tho arbor. Awnings'
and tents could be utilized far' these .
purposes, however. Colored, lights,
which are so effective In tabllatixwe're
here used, and being in open air did sot
prove so disagreeable to those present
as Is the case when employed indoors.
Ex. ,
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