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' ' . ! " " I f I ]
It : .
I' ; BY
i ] ' , ' S . ; : : : Meredith Nicholson i
} ! j . I + COPVKIGHT 1903 +
' 1 " TUB BOBBS-MEKKILI. COMPANY
1" j + +
' i , J
F ,
, , XXIU.-Cont'ued.
I f l 1/1 ' , r CHAPTER XXIII. - ( Continued. )
/ * * * * *
i If John Saxton sat in the office of the
f - - Traction Company on a hot night in
fy i ' July. Feriton Lul just left him. Tli
I I transfer to the Margrave syndicate had
I been effected and John would no more
' 1 ! 1 sign himself " .T olm Saxton , Receiver. : '
\ r ! l His work in Clarkson was at an end.
! ! The Nuponsot Trust Company had called
" 1 him to Boston for a conference , which
'
II , i meant , he knew , a termination of his ser-
f 1 ! Ilf ! . vice with them. He had lately sold the
j J Poindextor ranch , and so little property
1\ \ i remained on the Ncponset's books that it
J 'r ' could ) be cared for from the home office.
: ' He had not opened the afternoon mail.
1 : / He picked up a letter from the top of
' : il , E the pile , dated from San Fransisco , and
\
II : read :
' : I :1 "San Francisco.
. ' ' , , "My Dear Sir :
1 ! ' I ! "I hesitate about writing you , but
) , ' ! I there are some things which I should
, l I\ \ ! ; ! like you to understand before I go away.
11 ; 1 I had fully expected to remain with you
-1 ! ' I S and Bishop Delafield and to return to
t , : ! Clarkson that last morning at Poindex-
, ter's. I cannot defend myself for having
, ! ; run away ; it must have seemed a strange
i . thing to you that I did so. I had fully
! intended acting on the bishop's advice ,
I 1 ! i which I knew then , and know now , was
I ' good. But when the west-bound train
I
'
H 1 , I came , my courage left me ; I could not
K \ go back and face the people , I had known ,
r after what had happened. I told you :
I the truth there in the ranch house that
' / night ; every word of'it was true. May
I f be I did not make it clear enough how
. I j weak 1 am. Things came too easy for
) t S me , I guess ; at any rate I was never
; I worthy of the good fortune that befell
, me. It seemed to me that for two years :
I everything I did was a mistake. I sup-
pose if I had been a real criminal , and
'
- } I not merely a coward , I should not have
$ , entangled myself as I did and brought
calamity : upon other people . *
1' employ- ' '
ment with a shipping house. I have told
my story to one of the firm , who has been
i kind to me. He seems to understand my
-case , and is giving me a good chance to
I E - begin over again. I suppose the worst
a . . ' f possible , things have been said about me ,
" ' ' " , and I do not care , except that I hope
J"
J"1 the people in Clarkson will not think I
/1 / . , was guilty of any wrong-doing at the
L
bank. I read in the newspapers that I
had stolen the bank's money , and I hope
'
I " that was corrected. The books must have
proved what I say. I understand now
1 That what I did was worse than stealing ,
1 . . _
s but I should like you and Mr. Porter to
S lno\7 that I not only did not take other
j people's money , but that in my foolish
relations with Margrave I did not re-
ceive a cent for the shares of stock which
he took from me-neither for my own
nor for those of Miss : ; Porter. I don't
blame Margrave ; if I had not been a
coward he could not have played with
me as he did.
\ "Tlie company is sending me to one of
its South American houses. I go by
: steamer to-morrow , and you will not hear
I
fK > m mo again. I should like you to
know that I have neither seen nor heard
i ; , .anything of my brother since that night.
\ With best wishes for your own happiness
' : and prosperity , yours sincerely ,
"JAMES WHEATON. "
On his way : home to the club Saxton
.stopped at Bishop Delafield's rooms , and
S found the bishop , as usual , preparing for
fiiht.rrime ; did not change Bishop Dela-
' 1 eld. He was one of those men who
{ roach GO , and never , apparently , pass it.
f He and Saxtoii were fast friends now.
I The bishop missed Warry out of his life ;
' Warry was always so accessible and so
cheering. John was not so accessible and
he had not Warry's ligntness , but the
Bishop of Clarkson liked John Saxton.
The bishop sat with his inevitable
H I hand-baggage by his side and read Whea-
ton's letter througn.
"How ignorant we are ! " he "said , fold-
' ing It. " 1 sometimes think that we who
try to minister to the needs of the poor
In spirit do not even know the rudiments
of our trade. We are pretty helpless
wifh men like Wheaton. They are appar-
ently strong ; they yield to no tempta-
tions , so far as any man knows ; they are
g exemplary characters. I suppose that
gI I they are living little tragedies all the
time. The moral coward is more to be I
pitied than the open criminal. You know
1 , , where to find the criminal ; but the moral
coward is an unknown quantity. Life is
I a strange business , John , and the older
r I get the less I think I know of it. " He
sighed and handed back the letter.
.
. "But he's doing better than we might
have expected him to , " said Saxton. "A a
' man's entitled to happiness if he can find
it. He undoubtedly chose the easier part c
in running : away. I can't imagine him t
coining ; back here to face the community
aftt all that had happened. " t. .
" 1 don't know that I can cither.v
I " Preaching is easier than practicing , ' and .
i I'm not sure that I gave him the best ad- IJ
. ' vice at the ranch house that morning. s
4 "Well , it was the only thing to do , " t :
" Saxton answered. "I suppose neither s
I . you nor I was sure he told the truth ; it c
was a situation that was calculated to p '
! - ' make one skeptical. It isn't clear from q
! S his letter that the whole thing has imb
' pressed him in any great way. He's anxiI i t
: . ious to have us thing well of him-a kind
3 of retrospective vanity. " r.
S "But his punishment is great. It's not n
55
" . . ' for us to pass on its adequacy. I must'i ;
: : . . be oing ; , John , " and Saxton gathered
ap the battered cases and went out to the w
car with him. i s
f : ; Bishop Delafield always brought Wara ]
, ry back vividly to John , and as they w
. waited on the corner he remembered his e d
1- , . ' . . trst 'meeting with the bishop , in Warry's c {
t t t '
I :
" ' . '
E
. . I " : " : . it ' _ ' . , , ' . " " . ' , , ' , " .
. . . . . . . . . . , . . . , , , - - , - - , , - . - . . . . . " , . . . . .
- - _ ----,0\ - " ' . ' --tl..J. . . : ) . . lf. . . ' > " > , " ' . . . . . , ; ,
" - ' ' ' -
" " ' ' " 1' ; 'r. - " . : ;
- 1 ' - - Y" ' , . '
> : ; ; -
1- _ f ! 1 S
- -
-
rooms at The Bachelors' . And that was
very long ago !
. CuAPTER xxiv.
Uncertainty and doubt filled John Sax-
ton's mind and heart , and he saw no
I
light ; ahead. lie had seen Evelyn several
times before she had left home , on occa-
sions when he went to the house with
Fenton ior conferences with her father.
lie had intended saying good-by to her ,
but the Porters went hurriedly at last
and he was not sorry ; it was easier that
way. But Mrs. Whipple , who was eter-
cising a motherly supervision over John ,
had exacted a promise from him to come
to Orchard Lane during the time that
she and the general were to be with the
Porfcrs in their new cottage. When he
went East , Saxton settled , down at his
club in Boston , and pretended that it
was good to be at home again ; but he
went about with homesickness gnawing
his heart. He had reason to be happy
and satisfied with himself. He had prac
tically concluded the < difficult work which
he had been sent to Clarkson to do ; he
had realized more money from their as-
sets than the officers of the trust company
had expected : and they held out to him
the promise of employment in their l' " . > -
ton office as a reward. So he walked the ,
familiar streets planning his future anew.
He had succeeded . l in something at last
and he would stay in Boston , having , he
told himself , earned the right to live
there. The assistant secretaryship of the
trust company , which had been mention-
ed to him , would be a position of dignity
and promise. He had never hoped to do
so well. Moreover , it would be pleasant
to be near his sister , who lived at \Y 01'-
ce'ter.rrhcre were only the two of them ,
and they ought to live near together.
It is , however , an unpleasant habit of
the fates never to suffer us to debate
simple problems long ; they must throw
in new elements to puzzle us.VhiIe
he deferred going to Orchard Lane a new
perplexity confronted him. One of Mar-
grave's "people" came from New York
as the- representative of the syndicate
that had purchased the Clarkson .raction
Company , and sought an interview. John
had met this gentleman at the time the
sale was closed ; he was a person of con-
sequence in the financial world , who came
quickly to the point of his errand. He
offered John the position of general man-
ager of the company.
The next day John thought he saw
it all more clearly. He went out and
walked aimlessly through the hot streets
lie realized presently that he had gone
into a railway office and asked for a sub-
urban time table. He carried this hack
to the club , and studied ihe list of Or
chard Lane trains. He found that he
could run out almost any hour of the
day. He slept and woke refreshed with
the time table still grasped in his hand.
He had been very foolish , he concluded ;
it would be a simple matter to go out to
Orchard Lane to call on the Porters and
Whipples. The next afternoon he went
up to Orchard Lane.
It suited his mood that he should find
no ono at home at Red Gables but Mr.
Porter , who played golf all the morning
and slept and experimented at landscape
gardening all the afternoon. He wel-
comed John with unwonted cordiality.
There were some details connected
with the transfer of the Traction Com-
pany to Margrave's syndicate which Por-
ter had not fully understood , or which
Fenton had purposely kept from him ;
and he pressed John for new light on
these matters. John answered or parried
as he thought wisest.
John left his greetings for "TV"I
the hou ellOld. There was a train at G
o'clock ; it was now 5 and he loitered
along , stopping often to look out upon
the sea. A group of people was gathered
about a tea table on the sloping lawn in
front of one of the houses. Tue colors
of the women's dresses were bright
against the dark green. It was a gay
company ; their laughter floated out to
him mockingly. He wondered whether
Evelyn "was there , as he passed ori , beat-
ing the rocky path with his stick.
Evelyn was not there ; but her destina-
tion was that particular lawn and its
tea table. Turning a bend in the path he
came upon her. He had had no thought
of seeing her ; yet she was coming down
the path toward him , her picture hat
framed in the dome of a blue parasol.
He had renounced her for all time , and
hf should ; meet her guardedly ; but the
blood was singing in his temples and
throbbing in his finger tips at the sight
of her.
"This is too bad ! " she exclaimed , a *
they met. "I hope you can come back to
the house. "
She walked straight up to him and
gave him her hand in her 'quick , frank
way."I'm
"I'm sorry , but I must be in to town
on this next train , " he answered. He
turned : in the path and walked along be-
side her. .
"This happened to be one of our scat-
tering : days , for all except father. "
"We had a nice talk , he and I. Your
place is charming. Don't let me detain
you. I'm sure you were going to join
these ; lotus eaters. "
"I don't believe they need me , " she an-
swered , evasively. "They seem pretty
busy. But if you're Lungryor thirsty ,
: can get something for you there. " They I
passed the gate , walking slowly along.
He : : knew that he ought to urge her to
stop , and that he must hurry on to catch
his train ; but it was too sweet to be
near her ; this was the last time and it
was his own ! -
They paused finally and John held open
l little gate in a stone wall. He was ]
grave : and something of his seriousness '
communicated : itself to her. Clearly , he
thought , this was the parting of the ways. (
"Won't you come in ? There are plen-
ty of trains and we'd like you to' dine
with us. " j
A great wave of loneliness and yearnf
ing swept over her. Her invitation
eemed to create new and limitless dis-
tances [ that stretched between them. He
poke incidentally of the offer he had re t
ceived from the Clarkson Traction Com
pany. "I have refused the offer , " he said ,
uietly. He had not intended to tell her ;
but it was doubtless just as well ; and
: would alter nothing. "My work in
C/larkson is finished , " he went on. "War- w
ry's affairs will make it necessary for
me to go back from time to time , but it
yill not be home again. "
"I'm sorry , " she said. "I thought you. i
were to be of us. But I suppose there
: a greater difference between the Easti' '
md West than any one can understand
vho has not known both. " They regard-
I each other gravely , as if this were , of 0
lourse , the whole matter at issue. v
I
. . . . . . . ' > ' . - ' : ; : ; . ' - ' ' . - .
- - - - ' . . . . . , . " ' " - ' " -
- " , - "TV" . " .
- . ' ' . , . , '
. . " .
' \ . : , : ' " , ; ' ttt " : ; ; 11 - /
. _ " ' ; ' - - , g tom. ' : ; " ' : : - - : ' ' : ' : _ : . _ : : :3.- : : ; ' ; _ . . ; ; : : : .
f
.
" 1 can't go back-it's too mtrdi ; 1
can't do it , " he said , wearily. ,
"I -now how it must be - this last year
and Warry ! It was all so terrible - for
all of us. " She was looking away.
John looked at her. It was natural
that she should include herself with him
in a common grief for the man who had
been his friend and whom she had loved.
She had always been : : kind to him ; her
kindness stung him now. for he knew
that it was because of Warry ; and a re
solve woke in him suddenly. lIe would
not suffer her kindness under a false pre-
tense ; he could at least be honest with
her. .
"I can't go back because he is not
there ; and because-because you are not
there ! You don't know - you should nev-
er know , but I was disloyal to Warry
from the first. I let him talk to me from
day to day of you ; ; I let him tell me that
he loved you ; I never let him know - I
never meant any one to knowHe
ceased speaking ; ; she was very still and
did not look at him. "It was base of
me , " he went on. "I would gladly have
died for him ii i he had ' lived ; ' but now
that ho is dead I can betray him. I hate
I myself wor.se than you can hate m-i. I
know how I must wound and shoe- you
_ _ _ _ "
.
'Oh , no ! ' ' die moaneu.
But he went on ; / he would spare him-
self nothing. /
"It is hideous - it was cowardly of me
to come here. " His hands were clenched
and his face twitched with pain. "Oh ,
if ho had lived ! "
She rose now : and looked at him ' with
an infinite pity.
"If he had lived I , " she said , very softly ,
looking away through the sun-dappled
aisles of the orchard , "if he had lived-
it would have been the same , John. "
But he did not understand. His name
as she spoke it rang in his ears. She
walked away through the orchard path ,
which suddenly became to him a path of
gold that stretched into paradise ; and he
sprang after her with a great fear in his
heart lest some barrier might descend I
and shut her out forever.
"Evelyn ! Evelyn : "
It was not a voice that called her ; it
was a spirit , long held in thrall , that had
shaken " free and become a name.
( The end. )
SAM SOTHEEN NOT SAM AT ALL
Ili.s Alliterative Xaine a Sample oJ
Kis Father's Jocularity.
Probably there is not one in twentj
of the fellow members of his profes
sion , either here or in England , whc
knows that the name of Sam Sothern
the actor , is not Sam at all , the New
York World says.
: \11' . Sothern came back to New
York on Friday in response to a hurry
call to act with Sir Charles Wynd-
ham in "The Mollusc. " He has been
absent from this country more than
fifteen years , although he made his
first theatrical appearance in this
country with the late John T. Ray
mond , a friend of his father , E. A
Sothern , in "The Private Secretary. "
During the early days of the starring
career of his brother , E. H. Sothern
Sam , who is not Sam , acted in his
support at the old Lyceum.
If Sam Sothern had registered in
New York as George Evelyn Augustus :
T. Sothern possibly his own brothel
might not have recognized him.
George Evelyn Augustus T.vas
named to please his mother. His
father , who was a comedian off the
stage as well as on it , didn't like the
long handle. He wanted a name thai
was short and expressive. He was
appearing in "Brother Sam" in Lon
don at the time , and , for convenience ,
tacked the name of the play on the
newly born infant. Brother Sum has
kept it ever since.
Another thing that Sam Sothern
received from his father-this by in
heritance-was the tattered yellow
manuscript of "Our American Cousin.
It didn't seem like a large inheritance
at the time , for the elder Sothern had
played the piece to a standstill both
in this country and in England. Sc
Sam cast the prompt book into s
trunk , where it slumbered twenty ; I
years : until E. H. Sothern , two years I
ago , decided to revive the play undei
the name of "Lord Dundreary. "
, All these years a small fortune hafl ] I
been lurking in the crumpled bunch I
of papers. As it was Sam's property i
E. H. Sothern had to pay a fat royal
ty on it , and as "Lord Dundreary"
has been one of E. H. Sothern's big :
gest successes in recent years a steadj ;
stream of American dollars has flow
ed into Sam's English pockets.
Caused a Breach.
Askitt : Why are you so down on
Walker ? You used to be the best of
friends. t
Eggbert-Yes , I know ; but last fall i :
he took my part , and I haven't spoken l
to him since. :
Askitt-That sounds queer.
Eggbert-Not necessarily. You see ; ,
he's an actor , too-and I wanted the I
part for myself.
Her Experience. .
Mrs. Brown-Do you believe that
F
;
marriage : is a lottery ?
>
Mrs. Green - No. I consider it more
of a faith cure.
Mrs. Brown - Why , bow's that ?
Mrs. : Green - Well , I had implicit
faith : in my husband when we were f
first married-and now I haven't. n
, Deeply Interested.
Said She-Oh , I'm just awfully In '
terested : in baseball. I have a cousin
a
who belongs to a college bunch.
Said He-Indeed ! And what posi
tion . does he play ? 1
Said She - Well , I forget Just now 1
whether he's a knocker or a stopper. ,
The Explanation.
Edyth - Why did Clare insist on hay-
3 [
ing a quiet wedding ?
e-Oh I she thought b >
Mayme - , suppose
f
t would make talk.
t
It is estimated that there are 8,000 3
000 telephones now in use in tbj
world. r
. . . . . , . . .
' " , , . r ' .
, ; " ' . ' 0 - : ; : - _ . ; . ' . . . ; : . . . . . . . . . . ) " ' - "
= : : : : : . : : : - . : : - . : : : : = - = : . : : : _ : : : : . ; ; . : ; ; : : . : : : : - ; . . ; : : ; : : _ - = ' : -rr : ; . : : : : - . : : :
- - -
: !
-
ft- * * * * * * !
f : I 4 I ; \ , -r
: 1 ' ) :
_ [ _ , q 1 t 'oJ j- . ' . ' .
; 'M .1lj,1' 1 _ Is ) .
,
. --r' - " ' " . , " U' , , , "c. " , " " . - < < t
"C
* > OPinions of Great Papers on Important Subjects < * a
* _ . * A .6. . _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ . . _ . . . . . . _ . * ' .
+ - , . . . ' . , . ' . - , - . - ' & ' ' ' ' '
, " + cu.tr. V \ v.9t V + 11 , J ai t , $ 'i' l'Q ' 61 k ( ; t'I'T ci O' ' ' . . . . ( j'
- - - - - - -
- " -
THIEVES AND MELONS.
I 'LAYTON ' T. ZIMMERMAN , an employe : of
an express company , stole 10,000 ( , then
Can
corfessed to his crime , and will doubtless ,
in due course of justice , receive a sentence
commensurate with his act. He is a thief ,
.
and it is for the good of society that he is
made to suffer the penalty. But the ' mat
ter has another phase. Zimmerman handled , approxi-
mately , a million a day. He worked eleven hours , 365
days in the year. For this time and responsibility he
received the monumental salary of $53 : > a month.
The corporation for which he worked is one of the
wealthiest. With a capitalization of $12,000,000 , it has
paid regular dividends of from 4 to S per cent. There
have been numerous extra dividends during ; the last
twelve years , and among these extra dividends there
have been what is known in the vernacular of "Wall
street as "melon cuttings. " These "melon cuttings"
have taken the form of bonds issued gratuitously to
stockholders. The bonds are secured by a deposit of
securities with a trustee , the securities having been
purchased with the excess of earnings over dividends.
In 1898 $12,000,000 of these bonds were issued to stock-
holders , and this was so satisfactory that the company
gave an encore in 1907 to the tune of $24,000,000. In
other words , in addition to regular dividends and
small extra dividends , this company , in nine years , di-
vided $36,000,000 among its stockholders.
These facts offer a violent contrast-the difference
between $55 a month and $36,000,000 in nine years. Is
there any relation between the two ? Did the corpora-
tion acquire this vast amount by putting a premium on
dishonesty in the form of inadequate salaries ? From
a moral viewpoint , honesty cannot be bought , but in an
economic sense it is a commodity just as much as an
article of merchandise. Zimmerman was paid to be
honest , and possibly he rendered services in proportion
to his wage. If the stockholders had been content with
a few thousands less. and the corporation had paid its
servant a little more out of the millions he handled ,
it might still have a faithful employe , instead of losing
a man , with the brand of crime on his brow. It is
the old battle between greed and morals. - Cincinnati
Post.
CRITICIZING OUR SCHOOL SYSTEM.
HE widespread dissatisfaction with some
of the aspects of our vaunted educational
T system , and the attitude of severe criti-
cism maintained by the public toward it ,
U j are encouraging symptoms presaging its
- ' reformation. No one who ponders the ab-
stracts of the various papers read at Den-
ver before the National Educational Association , can
fail to be struck with the note of discontent that per-
vades them. The teachers , no less than the parents ,
recognize the fact that the American school system ,
while sound in principle , is not altogether sound in
practice.
One educator at Denver put the thing in a neat epi-
gram when hs said that a preparatory course to the
is not the of the
presidency object public school sys
tem. Some of the boys are going to be laborers , me-
chanics , artisans and what not. Not all of them can
become presidents. It seems reasonable , therefore , that
we should give these boys in school the things that will
I
,
"You'd ought to seen the swell time
we put in at the masquerade last
night , " said Florence to Mabel. "You
know , the last time I seen you I said
Annie and me was goin' as Mary
Queen of Scots or M'ree Ant'nette or
some of those swell dames , but when
we found that we'd have to read up
to learn how they acted we decided
we'd \ just fix up like a couple of picka-
ninnies. Fun ! I nearly died. "
"Did you black up ? " asked : Mabel.
"Black up ! " echoed Florence. "Like
the : ace o' spades. Honest , you'd died
laughin' : if you'd seen us. We got a
couple of wigs off a real wigmaker :
and we did our hair up in little tight
bunches all over our heads , so's we
ould : get the wigs on. Then we wore
little short skirts and black shirt
waists. Charlie and Jim-Jim's An-
nie's beau-fixed up for two tramps ,
ind if they wasn't the limit !
"But the most fun , " continued Flor-
snce , "was when they lined us up to
; ive the prizes. They give a prize for
the most comical-dressed couple and
he most uniquest-dressed couple and
ihe most artistic-dressed couple and
hey made the folks march around the
iiall in front of the judges. The
udges was sittin' up on a kind of plat-
torm at one end.
"Well , Annie and me marched to-
ether ; and then Charlie and Jim come
Dehind us. Well , just before we got
o the judges' stand Charlie reached
ver , and yanked my wig off my head
md Jim done the same to Annie's.
"here we stood with all them little
nobs : of hair stickin' up all over our
leads. Well , honest , I thought the
olks'd die laughing. You know An-
lie's l real kind o' blonde and her
lead's awful pink under her hair and
he was blacked up to just where the
rig come to , and she sure was as good
is a show. I. guess I looked pretty
tear as comical as she did.
"Well , I give one look at Annie and
et out a holler. Annie yelled , 'Beat
t t , girlie ! ' and we grabbed hold of
ach other's hands and started for the
Iressin' room , tight as we could run.
Ye didn't get no more'n half-way
own the room , though , before every-
ody was ketchin' hold of us and be-
ore we knew it they hustled us up on
he platform where the judges was
tUn' [ . "
" " listener. 'Wasn't
"My ! gasped the
ou awful embarrassed ? "
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to
be useful to them in after-life , instead of trying
make possible presidents out of them all. .
The intense practicality of the age , the utilitarian
demand that less
tendencies of our civilization strongly
. His -
emphasis be put on the merely cultural studies.
torically speaking , our grade schools have . developed
as places where youth may prepare for the high school ,
while that institution in turn has been closely artIcu-
. This is all well
university.
lated with the college or I
enough for those fortunate enough to be able to com-
plete the entire course. But the fact has been more
or less ignored that the great mass of school children
finish their schooling without either high school or uni-
versity courses. These young adventurers into real life
should be as well equipped as possible for their em-
prise. They now waste many precious moments . ' ,
merely cultural study , when they might be devoting
their time to studies that will help them along the ,
thorny path of real life.
Common school education needs reformation in prac-
tical directions. It is a happy circumstance , that those ,
who study education most deeply , and those who mere-
ly come in contact with its manifestations through
their children , are coming to agree on that point.-
Minneapolis Journal.
"GET A WESTERN MAST. "
ET Western man , " is getting to be a
I common cry in the East. It was heard a
G good deal lately when Harvard had a
choice to make. There is a suspicion
abroad that "the West" is a good place
to raise men ; that the physical and men-
tal conditions are favorable out there for
growing folks ; that the spirit of the West is whole-
some , its air inspiring , and its educational apparatus
easily adequate to give to energetic minds the neces-
sary tools to work with. Even so far East as Oberlin ,
0. , it is noted that they raise some inquiring chaps
whose inquisitiveness is persistent and brings interest-
ing results. That is a wonderful nursery of human
life that stretches from the Alleghenies to the Rockies ,
abounding in space and nourishment for body , mind
and soul. There are coming out of that great nursery
great children , whose thoughts and discoveries and
deeds will do for human life , wherever it exists , greater ,
far greater , services than any prophet , dare predict. .
Harper's Weekly.
WHY LAWS ARE BROKEN.
HERE are some laws which at the time _ .
their enactment were accurate expressions ' ,
T
k of public opinion. But public opinion has \ ,
changed , and has neglected to make the
.
.r1 i laws change with it. There are other
fi ) ! , -
laws which never did
express public opin-
ion , but which were enacted and have
been retained on the statute book through the indif-
ference of a public opinion which is at heart hostile
to them , or through its neglect or its inability to assert
itself with 'effective expression. The reproach has often
been uttered that we are not a law-abiding nation. At
least we must plead guilty to too light a regard for
law and to too little insistence upon its uniformly be-
ing what in theory it is and what in fact it should be
-the formal expression of enlightened public opinion.
- New York Tribune.
-
"For a minute we was , " confessed
Florence. "Then I seen how scared I
Annie looked and I leaned over and
whispered , 'Do a cake walk. We ain't
goin' to let 'em put it over us like
this. : So there we cake-walked 'round
there , feelin' perfectly crazy , and all
the folks hollered , 'Do it again ! ' every
time we stopped , till we was so out of
breath they just had to let us get
down. "
"Wouldn't have liked to be there ! "
said Mabel.
"You'd have had the time of your
life , " Florence assured her. "When
the judges announced the prizes for
the most comical-dressed couple , me
and Annie got them ! The prizes were
a pair of umbrellas. Charlie and Jim
got the prizes for the most uniquest-
dressed couple. "
"Who got the other prizes queried
Mabel.
"Oh , the judges didn't show much
taste the way they give the other
prizes. The girl that got the prize
for the most artistic-dressed
couple
had on a kind of long-trailin' white
dress , with a lot of spangles on it ,
and she had a star in her hair. She
called herself Aurora. I don't know
what for , unless Aurora was her home
town. The fellow that was with her ,
had on tights and a kind of cape thing
and a cap. They was an black and
he had spangles sewed on him and
half moons and things. He looked
kind of swell , but the girl was sloppy.
His prize was a brush and comb in
a case and hers was a diamond ( may-
be ) terrier like the duchesses wear In
their hair. Say , you'd ought to seen
that stuck-up thing goin' round after-
ward ! I nearly died laughin' and
Charlie said if that was the way the
girls in Aurora looked he guessed he'd
stay right in Chicago.
"Come up to the house some evenin
and I'M ] chow : '
you my prize. And say.
Charlie calls me his pickaninny now. "
-Chicago Daily News.
I
HE CALLS THIS SPORT.
But to Some of Us the Story Smacks
of Brutality.
In each of us is the germ of sav-
agery. The old instinct for cruelty
and slaughter manifests itself most
readily in our hunting and fishing
sports. Under the spell of the chase
we are guilty of things which , some-
how , tend to shock us when we con-
sider them in cold blood. Take the
following recital of how a hunter got
a moose in Nova Scotia , for exan / ple.
The man who tells the story , not yet
free from the thrall of the "sport , "
I probably sees nothing but glory in his I
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achievement , but to us who sit in uur ,
easy chairs and read there is so (
thing cruel and repellent in the tr Te.
The extract is from an article in the
National Sportsman :
The sun had set , and we were going
only a short distance further before
I camping , when Len's sharp eyes de-
tected a moose standing partly behind '
a rock with a background of pines at
what we afterwards found was 130
yards. His "Look at the big bull" in-
stantly drew my attention , and my 40's
began to roar , but ill fared it that
on account of the perspiration
drop-
ping on my glasses earlier in the day. r
I had taken them off , and now in the
failing light could scarcely distinguish i
either moose or ' near sight when my
left eye closed , although the bright
front sight showed plainly. My first ,
three shots were misses , and I migHt
have become rattled had not Len's
voice , as calm as though nothing was x t
happening , came to me , "You are
shooting high. " Drawing down the
foresight until I could scarcely see , I
pulled once more and hit the fore leg
just above the elbow , but without
touching any bones , and the moose r
started , although very lamely , over the _
open. Four more shots and he was
down , over 200 yards away , and we 1
started to run , but before we got half
way -he started down
again , and we
were able to get within a distance ,
that made it certain he was ours ; but '
once more he got on his feet and al- '
though unable > to take a step , glared at
us until another shot , the only one In
a vital spot , put him down for good.
We found that all six shots after t
he had started had touched him ; one is
had broken his fore leg just above his 1
hoof ; another touched his ear , another
chipped a horn ; another , probably the
one that put him down first , struck :
the center of his back just an inch
too high to affect the backbone , and
another struck behind , passing through t
one quarter and breaking the hipbone
on the other , disabled him completely ,
the last , fired close , struck behind the
shoulder , as intended. p
Documentary Evidence. \ I \i 1 (
" =
"What shall I p "
if
say Algernon ro- ,
poses to me ? " said the confiding MM (
: young 1
woman. . l" ' .
"Tell him you want time to fcin * ; it > P
"
over " , replied the worldly wise frleftd , ' 4"
"and then
change your re3&
summer re , & lfr
dence , so that he will have to discuss \ p '
the matter in writing" \
writing.-WashIngtOI1 A.
Star. . ' \ . . . . . ;
i
Every man finally leaves the bars
down.
,
55 . . " _ , f
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