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About The Falls City tribune. (Falls City, Neb.) 1904-191? | View Entire Issue (June 10, 1910)
Meg’s Elopement Br MARTHA McCULLOCH WILLIAMS (Cop) right, .’.yua by Associated Literary Press.) Meg Bertram had refused her Cous- j In Roland many times, but she had j meant to please her family and herself by marrying him. until the Hon. Clay Cecil came to Lowville. The Hon. Clay was tall and blonde and languid, with a drooping mustache, and an intermittent drawl—he ex plained the trace of western burr mar ring it by tales of life on his Cousin Glenham’s ranch. Glenham had quit the ranch to fill an earldom; at least, that was a logical inference. The Hon. Clay was always admirably vague in his statements. Lowville ladies said he was “so unpretentious." Men there, contrariwise, thought him inclined to play his hand for its full worth. Still they had to admit there was no offensive display of what the Hon. Clay called “side." His card read simply, “Clay Cecil," with “Autocars" in the lower left hand corner. He dressed well, had money in reasonable amount, and though he was lucky at bridge played a scrupulously fair game. Nobody ever had known him try to turn an acquaintance to profit. Notwithstanding this, Roland did rot trust him. The distrust was quite apart from Meg—at least, Roland told himself he would have hated the fel low if there had been no woman in the world. The Hon. Clay ignored Roland's hospitality in a way that was truly masterly. It stood him in hand to do so. Roland and Meg would inherit pretty well half of Lowville, and natch beside, when Grandmother Bertram, who led as well as owned, the town, should be gathered to her fathers. It was a startling triumph for the Hon. Clay to sell grandmother the first auto car ever owned in town, lie him self had hardly dared hope for it. Pos sibly it was this initial triumph which inspired him to try for a greater one, nemely, Meg herself. She was as hand some as she was rich—moreover, she had an air, one that, he told her often would make a duchess jealous. The car buying was really her doing. She liked new tilings, dash and speed, and the oversetting of ancient bounds, Roland was in all things conservative. He would not ride in the car except to bear grandmother company. Meg had to put up with folk outside and the chauffeur. Hut she was never lone some. Notwitli$tanding other sales due to the weight of grandmother’s exam ple, the HotV. Clay found time for many spins beside her, and at length, as her enthusiasm mounted, offered to teach her the hrt of running the car. Meg was enchanted, but grandmoth er put her foot down against the plan, saying, laconically, that she didn't mean to have $7,000 turned into scrap iron for a girl’s folly. The Hon. Clay bowed and smiled, and in strict pri vacy, told Meg her lessons might be gin In his runabout. Thus It came to pass that early upon an August morning, misty-moist, but lacking dew, Meg slipped away un seen, and five minutes later was spin ning beside the Hon. Clay across the countryside. Up, down, back and foi^th, around corners, down by-lanes the red car twinkled. Meg never in her life had been so ecstatically hap py. She held the wheel, but all the working of it came through a stronger hand that fell over hers—and some times during longer than was strictly necessary. She hardly noted the clinging nor did she note distance, direction and the fact that clouds boiling up, had quite hidden the sun. She was even oblivious to the fact that they had left the level farm lands until a hill steep and rocky, almost stopped the trig ma chine. By good hap and caution the car was coaxed up it. At the summit, Meg looked about, a little apprehen sively. There was a far view, all hills and hollows, witli steeper swelling hills at the boundary—and not a single house In sight—scarcely, indeed, a sign of human occupancy. "Turn back! It’s going to rain,” Meg said, sternly. The Hon. Clay laughed. "You mean it is raining—hard," he said. "I think there's a barn down there in the hol low. Anyway, we’ll look for it—any shed in such a storm.” "Inside of five minutes they had found the barn and were under shelter, but drenched and dripping. Meg, more over, began to feel desperately hungry. In the excitement of the expedition she had eaten no breakfast. She clapped her hands as her companion drew from some recess a small ham per, full of good things. "You're a special providence every way,” she said with a grateful smile, setting her white teeth in a sandwich, as she spoke. The Hon. Clay also smiled. “I think you'll find out I Know how to take ex cellent care of you," he said. “Much better than that muff, Roland. Won’t he be wild when he knows?” “What?” Meg asked, startled. The Hon. Cecil looked at her nar rowly, and answered with his best drawl. "Oh! our elopement—you know we are across the line—in a state that demands no such foolish formalities as licenses or the consent of guardians. We should get that con sent easily—if we went back for it—to morrow. But I don’t care to go back for it—do you? As soon as the rain stops we will go on and find our wait ing minister.” *'iou! Do you think I'd marry you? To save your life? Or mine?" Meg cried superbly, her eyes blazing Tile Hon. Clay shook his head, bu. laughed lazily "You'll do It—to save your reputation, my dear," he said, making as if to take her hand. "Be a sensible darling," he went on. "You like me—and you must marry some body. \Ye are known to have gone away together—even without the storm we could not have got back be fore morning. You need not hope we have been followed. The big car would never take our roads, even if anybody knew them. And what horses could make and hold half our speed." "My sorrels," Roland cried, spring ing upon the Hon. Clay, half throttling him, then shaking him as a dog shakes a rat. “They caught you—if you did have an hour the start. No doubt you ran rings to bewilder this poor girl—but they would have caught you without. They know it was more than life and death. They brought me here in time! They are almost dead—al most, not quite, thank God. The three of us will go back together. 1 shall give it out that this mad prank was— a test of their speed, and endurance. That will explain everyhing. If you dare say anything else.” "Well what?” the lion. Clay panted, smiliny uneasily. Before Roland could answer, Meg Had slipped to liis side and put her hand in his. "That won’t do, Roland —I know a Imtter way—very much better," she said. "What is it?"’ Roland asked. She looked up at him bravely, but looked down again, blushing deeply, and breathing hard. "Let’s have it that I ran away with him to—to marry you,” she said. As Roland caught her in bis arms the lion. Clay grinned. "You owe me a whole lot, cap’n," he said, bowing to Roland. "For, if she didn't marry you just this way, 1 doubt if she’d do it at all.” He said it with a twinkle that ought, to have enlightened Meg, yet it was six months after her marriage before she even suspected that it had been all a conspiracy against her. Roland, really in despair, had fallen In with the Hon. Clay's scheme of vicarious elopement. Meg forgave them both like the thoroughbred she was. She buys a new car every season from Hon. Clay, who gets a thumping com mission. He is a married man him self now and very fond of Ills wife. THE GOOD SHIP TATUMBLA Tragic End That Befell the Laat Ves sel of the Wonderful Hon duran Fleet. The Honduran gunboat Tatumbla is no more. Her end was sudden and sorrowful. No brater ship ever sailed from Puerto Cortes—colors flying, en gines clanking merrily, every man, boy and flea on board ready to do his duty. Several weeks ago the Tatumbla overhauled a smuggler 20 miles from Puerto Cortes, and 20 of her crew boarded the outlaw ship. The villains promptly surrendered and the pirate captain told ('apt. Zelella of the Hon duran navy that there was plenty of good rum in the hold. Soon the naval force was celebrating. When they succumbed to the delightful beverage, up rose the smuggler's crew, flung overboard every man, boy, and flea of the Tatumbla, scuttled the gun boat and escaped. Two of the Tatum Ida's crew, accompanied by 12,000 fleas, managed to swim to a floating lifeboat, and escaped to tell the story. Harrowing as the tale is, it con notes a worse. The Tatumbla was the last ship of the splendid Honduran fleet, known and studied by naval ex perts for its efficiency, beauty, and in sect life. She was vivacious and as piring. She could have sailed to the uttermost ends of the earth, if she had had the coal. She would have been received by all crowned heads, and her officers dined by the greater na tions. Alas, it was not her fate. Put she had the undying fame of not attending the Hudson-Fulton cele bration.—Van Norden Magazine. ROUSED THEM FROM SLUMBER Few Words Uttered by Scottish Di vine Most Powerful in Their Ef fect on Congregation. A certain Scotch minister, a new comer in the parish, finding it impos sible to arrest the attention of his congregation, became desperate. No sooner did he appear in the pulpit than they promptly composed them selves to sleep. One evening, after taking up his po sition, he rnpped sharply on the ledge in front of him, and addressed his somnolent flock in tones of severe remonstrance. "Now, brethren," he said, "it’s not fair to go asleep as ye always ha' done directly 1 begin my sermon. Ye might wait a wee till I get alang, and then if I’m no worth hearing sleep awa’ wi’ ye, and I’ll no care; but dinna go be fore 1 ha' commenced. Gie me this one chance.” Finding they were all fairly awake by that time, he went on; — ”1 shall take for my text the twe words ‘Know thyself,’ but I will say before 1 begin the discourse that 1 would no advise this congregation to make mony such profitless acquaint ances.” There was not a snore or a nod in the kirk that evening, and after thal day he found his task comparatively easy. Quite Proper. "I know a man who deliberately and persistently blackens his own busi ness." “What does he do that for?” "Because he's a stove polisher.” -*■-mmmamm—i——mmmm— | The Woman J at Home By JEANNE O. LOIZEAUX (Copyright, 1WU by Associated lJterary ; Press.) Mary Ainslee handed her doctor ; husband his second cup of coffee, and listened while he told her what hos pltal he would be operating In that forenoon. He then began speaking of the children, but absently and she knew he was worrying about the Pres ton case Mrs. Preston was ns likely to die as to live. He tried not to talk shop at table, but it irritated his wife to know that his work was everlast ingly first in his mind. She felt her self growing unlovely In thought, though she sternly schooled her out ward behavior to perfection. As they finished the meal she was obliged to remind him of the money he had for gotten, for two days, to give her. "I'm sorry, my dear I quite for got,” he replied, and wrote her a ■check double the amount she had originally asked for. He was a gen erous man. What troubled her was that he was as generous to the world at large as to his own family. After he had kissed her good-by and started for the office she went over tin* house with the maid, gave the cook her orders and then dressed little Robert, gave him his breakfast and sent him off to school. Then the baby had to be fed and dressed. By the time she had done the little things that required her hand, and had changed her morning gown, it was almost luncheon time. The baby was asleep, and she sat down deliberately in her own room to correct her own thought. She realized that she was becoming irritable and jealous—yes, jealous. What was she to do? Not for her life would she have betrayed her feelings, have made a vulgar scene. Besides, what could she complain of? She tried to he reasonable. And it was not only the women who were ever lastingly cooing about him, admiring and deferring to him, pitying him volubly for his busy life, calling on his sympathy—it was the children, the men, the string of ailing human be ings that filled his office and his life. She had, after eight years of mar riage, come to feel that the doctor's family was simply a secondary pos session of the general public. Women called- out of courtesy to the doctor — to see the doctor's wife, his children, his house. Old ladies- and silly young ones— sent him ridiculous gifts. Nurses deftly obeyed his behest. And, it seemed to her, he was as fond of .other children as of his own. She hated herself for caring but she did ■care! She wondered what she should do. Then the maid called her to lunch. She waited ten minutes, 15, a half hour, then had the meal served, so the boy could get off to Ills kindergar ten in time. They had nearly finished when the doctor entered, distrait, pale, evidently exhausted. Ills wife rose to his need, letting him alone. Finally she was told that Mrs. Preston was worse, and the morning's opera tion a success, but only by a miracle. He bolted his food, and was off again with scarcely a good-by. She knew it ■would have been infinitely easier for him to have lunched downtown, and that he caine home in deference to her wishes. It whs truly a black afternoon for the girl, for she was barely twenty six. For the first time she owned to herself that her life was becoming unbearable. In the two years before little Robert came, and even till a few months ago when the baby appeared, it had been possible for her to go about with him—to lunch downtown at his convenience, to drive hint about to his calls, to get him to the theater, to church, to a reception or dinner now and then. Now she was tied down by the children even when he could go. She felt hitter and alone, wondering what life was for. Several women called during the afternoon, friendly, but not near enough to her so that she felt them friends. They took occasion to inti mate that the doctor looked pale and overworked, as if she were unnatural ly unobservant, and to pet Robert and pronounce hltn the picture of his fa ther. They left her feeling like an unprofitable servant. Then his mother phoned her—very sweetly—and asked if she might “borrow" him for dinner that night, adding plaintively that she almost never saw her son any more! Mary forced herself to be civil, even kind, to bid the old lady get him to come if she could. By that time she had one of her bad headaches. She called the maid to take the children out, and tried to lie down, but she was too restless. She reflect ed that another woman would send for a doctor. Should she send for—Dr. Ainslee? She laughed bitterly to her self. He would come, all kindness, all concern, doing liis best as with any other patient! She preferred to suffer it out, and then, she knew how busy he was. He had to go out to the new house they were building, besides bis other work. In the new house, farther out, she would never see him, she thought miserably. She began for the first time that summer to feel the heat, to be half hysterical, wholly un happy. She realized that she could not live without him—nor with him. Finally, at almost dinner time, she rose, batiied and dressed. Then the phone rang, and she answered it. It was bis voice, quick, irritable, but kind, asking how she was, and the children, saying that lie was really I obliged on short notice to go to some medical banquet, and was sorry he could not be home to dinner—he would not he back till late, and she was not to sit up. While she was listening, the tears fell down her cheeks. She an swered pleasantly. She made a pretense nt dinner, nnd finally got the children to bed. Then she came down to the hammock un der the trees. Her headache lessened, and she tried to think things out calm ly, ns a man would. After hours she reached only one solid conclusion— that if she only knew that he really loved her and the children better than all the rest of Ihe world together; If It was a grief to him to see so little of them, she could bear It. And then she fell asleep. When she awoke she was, somehow, conscious that it was very late. The moon looked as If It had been up a long, long time. The woman rose and went softly into the house she must lie in bed before Robert came home - it would irritate him to find her wait ing up for him like a reproach at his long absence. Things ought to have been dark in the house, hut as she en tered the hall she saw that Ills den was lighted up. She heard his voice, carefully lowered. Whom could he be talking to? Slie started upstairs, and then stopped. She came softly back, stoop ing to remove her high-heeled slip pers. She knew it was a base tiling to do, but she simply must know what he was saying and whom lie was ad dressing In so heartfelt a tone—not his professional tone. She crept along the hall to a lit Me turn where she could safely listen. ‘‘That’s all very well, I rnrton. ne was paying. So it was 1’hil Trafton, his bachelor friend, come from no where! “All very well," he continued, "but I've something to work for arid It looks to me as if you haven't. I get ns sick as you, as any other doctor gets of women an ailing, whining, fawning lot. Half of them need a spanking worse than they need medi cine. Some of them need a little com mon sense. Wo almost never see a woman that appeals to us save as a burden- except the nurses, the busl nss women, who, from my standpoint, are not really women at all. They simply serve ray need in my work. It's different, now, when- a fellow has a wife, it's the woman at home that counts with a man like me -with any real man. 1 give you my word, wom an-surrounded as 1 am, that I never really give a thought to any woman but Mary- and iny mother. And I al most. never see them! 1 nm straining every nerve to get the place where I can have more time with them. That’s what I live for.” He paused. The other man spoke in the queer, quick way Mary remembered so well. “You married men are all alike, and I suppose you are right. But 1 must say I know married men who wouldn't dare to bring a friend home at mid night. without permission, like this!" She could almost see her husband swell with pride. “Mary never fails to welcome any one I want,” he said. "There is no body like her. Say, Traf, why not come on a trip with us? 1 thought it out to-day that I would ask Mary in the morning if she wouldn't take the babies and come to the mountains for a two months' vacation. She needs rest worse than 1 do, and we could all have a good time, providing we can lose you occasionally!" # Trafton laughed. "Not for mine,” he replied, "but thanks all the same. I don’t fit In with married bliss, old man!" Mary Ainslie slipped off upstairs, slippers in hand. Once In her own (room she redonned them, touched her hair into order, twitched the soft dress to the proper folds. Then, with shin ing eyes and a thankful heart, she went downstairs to greet her husband mid his friend. USES FOR FAN IN WINTER — Almost as Necessary for Comfort Dur ing the Cold as the Warm Summer Months. There Is an old story of a monk who would have nothing to do with a stran ger who stopped at his cell, because the fellow blew on bis hands to warm them and into his teacup to cool the beverage. “Away with ihee!” ex claimed the monk. “1 will have no man about me who blows both hot and cold from his mouth.” Hut that monk didn't live in the twentieth cen tury. Had ho done so and thrown away his electric fan because it did as the stranger did. he would have lost an invaluable aid. There are many uses to which the electric fan can be put in the winter, as, for example, the man who has a heating plant in his house can use It for creating a forced draft, thus aiding much in getting the house warm on a cold morning. The fan can also be made to blow through a radiator and distribute the warm air more evenly. Merchants are now us ing fans for circulating warm air in the show windows to prevent the ac cumulation of frost. Of course they assist materially In ventilation in both summer and winter.—The Path finder. To Abolish Secret Societies. Wellesley students have decided not to have any more secret societies. Kach of the presidents has sfgniiled her intention of taking the matter up with her sorority. Miss Baxter of the Agora society said that it was not bet ter methods of conducting the society that were needed so much as the abo lition of them altogether. The Language. "Funny thing, isn't it?” “What is’” "That a live man in fact is always dead In earnest." A Profession For a Lady By ALICE DUER MILLER (Copy righted l>> til tort Stories Co., Ltd.) "The question Is." said Aunt .Tulin, "how nty brother ever eanie to lose so much money." “The question Is," said Aunt Hen rletta, "how Jane Is to support her self.” “The question Is,” snld Aunt Lily, "what are we going to do for her?" And to judge by the Indies' express shut this whs the most pertinent of the three. “Really, Lily," said Aunt Henrietta, who was the only one of the three j sisters who had married, and was re spected accordingly, "1 do not feci under further obligations toward Jane. She lias been, well, let us say unfor tunate In Rome of Iter speeches to me." "W'liat a pity It is that Jane has no taste for needlework. Some of those skate lings at the fair brought, very good prices and were not hard to do," said Aunt Lily. "Nw dlework!” Raid Aunt Henrietta, with a sniff. "Do you know that one of her ideas was to become a dress maker?" “Oh, dear," said Miss Lily, "I should not like to see the name ef Woodman on a sign in the window!" "If," Aunt Henrietta remarked, "sho! had an ounce ef energy or executive! ability Hhe might attempt something, like* tills. She fumbled In her reticule and produced an oblong envelope. "I received this circular this morning. It struck me at once as an excellent idea.” She put on her glasses and read: MISS a A TICS, Room 603, Goliath Building, Now York City. J,n<lies unwilling to undertake tlio physi cal exertion and mental anxiety of Clirlst tmiH shot ping may bo UHaured tlml by employing Mi*.s Gates their purchases will be carefully anil economically se lected, attractively tied up, slid promptly delivered. Miss Gates will buy designat ed articles itt definite prices, or If It be desired to avoid tIn* whole problem Miss tintes will undertake, on being furnished with a list of the names, nges and oecu- | pillions of those on whom It Is Intended to bestow presents, to select and dispatch Bitch suitable objects to each, as will In sure complete satisfaction to all. Charges will be live per cent, of amout of purchase. Out of town expressage extra, "Now that,” said Aunt Henrietta, laying down her glasses, "Is what 1 call nil Intelligent idea. It will he well worth my while to save myself the fatigue of elbowing nty way about the crowded shops, to say nothing of a trip to New York. Old Mrs. Forbes is going to send to her for a cast! of champugne, and knitting needles and all sorts of things; and Mrs. Herbert, who 1 tint sure spends thousands aC Christmas time, lias turned ovei everything to this woman just sent her a descriptive list of all her rela. lions. She was telling me how amus ing it was to make It out.” Several days later the ladies were again discussing Jane when the foot. | man opened the door and announced: "Mrs. Herbert!” Mrs. Herbert ran in all sables and pearls, and in evident distress. SIk kissed all three of the ladles, or rath or flung herself from the arms oi one to the other, while she gasped: "O, dear, Mrs. Hoggs, forgive nij coining in like this, but I know s< few people here, and you have beer Bo kind to me, and I’m in such ar awkward position!” ivjy ueur, wnut is uie matter.' r reu erick, a glass of sherry for Mrs. Her T>ert. Sit down, my dear!” Mrs. Herbert sat down in the cen ter of the circle, undoing her furs, while the ladies bent forward In at titudes of sympathetic attention. “Well, you know that dreadful Christmas shopper, Miss Oates?" she began. The ladies nodded. “Well, she said she would tako charge of all my Christinas presents, if 1 would send her a list of the people I wanted to send them to, and so I did.” She was approaching tears. “1 sent a description, and little cards with messages on them to go in each box, and I pinned the description to tlie right card, so that there should not be any mistake." Here tier hand kerchief went to her eyes. “And what do you think she did?" A pause. “She forgot to unpin one of them— the worst!" “How unfortunate! How careless!” cried Miss .Julia. "it was for my husband's step mother,” continued Mrs. Herbert. "A dreadful old woman—no, I don't mean that, but I like her much less than some of his relations, and It Is most important to keep on good terms with her, as she owns half the mills. I shall never dare tell him!" “And what had you said of her?” “I can't remember quite all, but 1 know I said, “The old lady is 65, though she is always talking about what she means to do when she is 50. Her tastes are literary, but don't give her books. She doesn't like them. It is not so important that her pres ent should be tasteful, as that it should look as if it cost a great deal of money.” “What shall you do, iny dear?" said Mrs, Hoggs, with firmness. "Calm yourself. The woman must apologize. See your brother-in-law, explain the j case to him." Mrs. Herbert moaned and shook her ! head. "I can't do that. I am afraid ! of Richard. He might tell my hus I band.” “You must make it clear that he cannot do so He can represent to | this woman that if she will accept the situation, which is after all of her own making, and write a satisfactory letter to your mother-in law, that ywa will'—Mrs. lloggs hesitated, ns others have done before her. In search of a polite expression for bribery, and finally ended rather lamely with “you will do something hind for her?" Mrs. Herbert protested that it would be a dreadful ordenl to tell her brother-in-law, who was a superior sort of person, but she admitted that she would have ample opportunity, ns he always came to luncheon with her when he passed through St. Al bans. At length, upheld liy the sym pathy and advice of the ladies, she took her departure. At. luncheon her brother-in-law was more unbending than she had ex pected. Indeed ho laughed himself speechless at the description of his respected stepmother, and went away declaring thot Ik1 would have no diffi culty in obtaining the apology for nothing. He would have nothing to do with bribes. It was with a stern and legal man ner that lie stepped from the express elevator In the Oollath building that very afternoon, and opened a glass door, which was simply Inscribed, "Miss Gates, Shopper," "Miss Gates." he Haiti, "my name Is Herbert. I am the lawyer of Mrs. V. T. Herbert.” Miss Gates looked vaguely nt. her pile of letters. "Oh, yes,” she said. “You want to talk about that absurd libel suit, l’ray, sit down. Or,” she added, with what he knew she consid ered a good business manner, "per haps you had better see my lawyer.” “Who Is your lawyer?” She looked hopeless. "1 have not got one,” she answered, but the next moment, ndded cheerfully, "but 1 could get one, couldn’t I?" “The matter,” Dick continued, “can he settled more simply. It would he, of course, very had for your business if tills became generally known, and—" “I shall not keep on with tills busi ness. It Is horrid and troublesome, and people are so ungrateful." "Ungrateful!” said Dick, foolishly allowing himself to be thrown off the track. nne nouucu. 1 omit wnni u uuuu* tiful umbrella I selected lor Christ mas for you.” She sighed. "It was BO cents more than Mrs. Herbert want ed to spend, and so 1 paid It out of my own commission.” "Upon my word,” cried Dick, "I had forgotten that I was on the list, too. And It was you who bought that um brella. It Is, I may say, an Ideal um brella, The only perfect example of the sort I ever saw. An umbrella I am proud to carry. 1 have a hansom at the door now, and if you will per mit me the pleasure of dining In your society, we can, I am sure, settlo tills business before we have finished soup. I am a stranger In New York, Miss Oates, but 1 think I know where as good a dinner—” Ho stopped, Miss Gates had risen and was looking at him with un ex pression that was more chilling than a cold shower bath He stopped, hut she did not instantly speak. When she did, her tone was like Ice: “Mr. Herbert, It will not be my mis fortune, I hope, ever to address you again, it Is not, perhaps, necessary In the legal profession to know a lady when you see one, but a little tact and common sense are never u hin drance. As, however, you do not seem to he in possession of those qualities, let me make the facts per fectly clear to you. My name la Woodford. You have probably heard of my father, who died recently, leaving nothing of a once large fortune. 1 have been trying to earn my own living, without the knowledge of my family. For this reason I have assumed a business name. 1 see, however, that my aunts were right in supposing that a lady can live safely only at home. It is such men us you, Mr. Herbert, who make it so. I will send the letter you wish In the morning. If. ns is possi ble, we should ever meet In St. Al bans, I shall not recognize you, and 1 trust you will do what you can to save me the necessity of making my opinion of you more marked. At pres ent I wish you good afternoon!” That very afternoon she took her ticket home. When she entered the empty Pull man car—the train was not a favor ite—her eye fell instantly on a fa miliar umbrella which lay across the seat next her own. A valise marked It. H. was standing there also. She started and looked hastily round t> e ear. They were apparently to be the only passengers. Rvery other seat in the car was at her disposal. And yet she did not change her seat. Jewish Longing for Palestine. As long ago us 1866 Sabati Zevl set the Jews of Europe preparing for a return to Palestine. Not only the poor er brethren, but even the rich mer chants of Venice and Leghorn were seized by the excitement and for a whole century the great bulk of the people refused to be disillusioned. It was not until the appearance of George Eliot's “Daniel Deronda” that the Jewish nationalist movement re ceived another stimulus so strong as this; but in the meantime many schemes were propounded, including an attempt in 1854 to float a company “to enable the descendants of Israel to obtain ami cultivate the land of promise.” Various famous people have been interested In the idea of estab lishing an independent Jewish king dom, not necessarily in Palestine. The Dutch West Didia Company tried the experiment in Curacoa, and Oliver Cromwell did the same in Surinam. As a Base. ' Professor, is there any foundation for the belief that eevry particle of matter is a universe in itself?” "My dear sir. you can found any be lief on human crsduilty.”
