.
I
. , .
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. . ' -t'- ' :
igty " .
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Y F
,
:
if ' l MU-NYON'S
. . I
! z Eminent Doctors at
- r Your Service Free
.
) , I " .
, , , I'
' 1 : r Not a Penny to Pay for the Fullest
, .
} . a 1 , : Medical Examination.
.1 . . , , " . . .
i l r , . : If you are in doubt as to the cause
i of your disease , mail us a postal re-
; ' \ " questing a medical examination blank.
ffr 4 Our doctors will carefully diagnose
' your case , and if you can be cured
; ' . you will be told so ; if you annot be
- z e 1 cured you will be told so. You are
, , : .1
, f . not obligated to us in any way , for
this advice is absolutely free. You are
at liberty to take our advice or not ,
.
( ! as you see fit.
Munyon's , 53d and Jefferson streets ,
Philadelphia. Pa.
FASHION > HINTS
"
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{ I Crepe de Chene , or a soft silk that drapes
i ' rrell ' ! , should be used for this attractive
1 tfternoon gown. A touch of contrasting
! tolor is introduced in the lower sleeve and
t llso in the vest. "The cuffs and waist are
( Embroidered in a dainty flower design.
I
/
+ I
"WAGNER'S : STORMY BEGINNING.
I'
!
\ Comfort Came to Composer from Fat
ronage of Mad : Monarch.
' A. fugitive for debt and refused a
job " In a chorus , a despised and' ab
j horred and unheard composer , a politi
E
cal exile , then a stormy crusadei
against the widest and wildest cam
' paign of abuse and ridicule in the his
' tory of art , then the most successful
I composer that ever lived , and finallj
again a political exile because he had
become so powerful that he was called
the pope of music-this is a scenaric
of the life of Wagner " says Rupert
Hughes in Smith's.
"Though he chose music as his ca- -
xeer and music is ordinarily the most
aloof from reality of all the arts , he
brought it into intimate contact with
Jiearly every phase of human activ
ity. Through his music he invaded
, the drama , fiction , essay poetry , myth
ology , religion , legend , history , poli
tics , revolution finance architecture ,
painting.
"In the last article we followed
Wagner's life to the peak he reached
with his overpoweringly beautiful ro
mance , "Tristan and Isolde. " This
opera was composed when Wagner was
, 46 , but he was 51 before it was pro '
I I
I duced.
I
I "Meanwhile , when his financial af
I I
fairs were in most desperate straits !
and he had borrowed nearly all that
men like Liszt could scrape up to lend :
him , he was visited by on © of those I
fairy-story happenings that brighten I
real life once or twice a century. The
king of Bavaria , Ludwig II. , a madman
with streaks of genius , became inter
I ested in his music and sent for him.
So obscure was Wagner that the mes-
senger was six months in finding him ,
I ' and had almost despaired when he dIs-
; , covered him in Stuttgart and informed
, I him that he had been put upon the
E II pension list with a yearly stipend of
I about $500. In Wagner's words : 'My
{ ' I I creditors were quieted and I could go ]
' "
on with my work. ]
,
I -
Standard time in Belgium , Holland :
I - and Spain is the same as in Great '
? + Britain. It is one hour faster in Ger- ]
f : , many , Italy , Austria , Denmark , Swe- ]
den and Servia. 1
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I
The Ifcdemptiot . :
. Qavid I ! t ) eorsoti I i ,
By CHARLES FREDERIC GOSS ,
Copyright , 1900 by The Bowen-Merrill Company. All Rights Reserved I
i
i
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i
I
- - - - - -
, .
CHAPTER VIII.-Continued. )
The doctor rattled on with an un-
ceasing flow of talk , while the mind of
the Quaker plunged into a serious of
violent efforts to adjust itself to this
new situation. He tried to force him-
self to be glad that he had been mis-
taken. He for the first time fully ad-
mitted the significance of the qualms
which he felt at permitting himself to
regard this strolling gypsy with such
feelings as had been in his heart.
"But now , " he said to himself , "I can
go forward with less compunction. I
can gratify my desire for excitement
and adventure with perfect safety. I
will stay with them for a while , and
when I am tired can leave then with-
out any entanglements. " When the
situation had been regarded for a little
while from this point of view , he felt
happier and more care-free than for
weeks. He solaced his disappoint-
ment with the reflection that he should
still be near Pepeeta , but no longer in
any danger.
At this profound reflection of the
young moth hovering about the flame ,
let the satirist dip his pen in acid , and
the pessimist in gall ! There is enough
folly and stupidity in the operations of
the human mind to provoke the one to
contempt and the other to despair.
CHAPTER , IX.
The spring and summer had passed ,
I
autumn had attained the fullness of I
its golden beauty , and the inevitable I
had happened. David and Pepeeta had
passed swiftly though not unresisting-
ly through all the intervening stages
between a chance acquaintance and an
impassioned love.
Any other husband than the quack
would have foreseen this catastrophe ;
but there is one thing blinder than
love , and that is egotism such as his.
His colossal vanity had not even sus-
pected that a woman who possessed
him for her husband could for a single
instant bestow a thought of interest
on any other man.
David had abandoned the Quaker
idiom for the speech of ordinary men ,
and discarded his former habiliments
for the most conventional and stylish
clothes. Contact with , the world had
sharpened his native wit , and given
him a freedom among men and women
that was fast descending into aban-
don. Success had stimulated his self-
confidence and made him prize those
gifts by which he had once aroused
the devotion of adoring worshipers in
the Quaker meeting house ; he soon
found that they could be Aised to vic-
Simize the crowds whicTi gathered
wound the flare of the torch in the
public square.
A transformation had been taking
place in Pepeeta. Under the sunshine
ef David's love , and the dew of those
spiritual conceptions which had fallen
upon her thirsty spirit , the seeds of a
beautiful nature , implanted at her
birth , germinated and J'p
Wtonishing rapidity. Walking stead-
ily in such light as fell upon her path-
way and ever looking for more , her
spiritual vision became clearer and
clearer eVery day ; and while this af-
fection for God purified her soul , her
love for David expanded and trans-
formed her heart. Her unbounded ad-
miration for him blinded her to that
process of deterioration in his charac-
ter which even the quack perceived.
To her partial eye a halo still sur-
rounded the head of the young apos-
.ate. But while these two new affec-
tions wrought this sudden transforma-
tion in the gypsy and filled her with
a new and exquisite happiness , the
circumstances of her life were such
that this illumination could not but be
attended with pain , for it brought ever
new revelations of those ethical incon-
sistencies in which she discovered her-
self to be deeply if not hopelessly in-
volved.
David had chosen an old plan to
compel Pepeeta to abandon her hus-
band. For its execution he had al-
roady made a partial preparation in
an engagement to meet the justice of
the peace who had performed her mar-
riage ceremony. The engagement was
conditioned upon his failure to per-
suade the gypsy to accompany him of
her own free will.
Immediately after , supper he took
her to the place appointed for the
meeting. This vivil officer had been a
companion of the quack's for many
years. His natural capacity , which
was of the highest order , had secured ,
him one place of honor after another ;
but he had lost them through the prac-
tice of many vices , and had at last
sunk to that depth of degradation in
which he was willing to barter his
honor for : almost any price.
The place at which he had agreed
to : meet David was a log saloon in one
of the most disreputable parts of the
city , and to this spot the infatuated
youth made his way. Now that he
was alone with his thoughts , he could
not contemplate his purpose without a
feeling : of dread , and , yet he did not
pause nor seriously consider its aban-
donment. His movements , as he el- - *
jowed his way among the outcasts
who infested this degraded region ,
were those of a man totally oblivious
to his surroundings.
Having reached the door of the sa-
oon , David cast a glance about him ,
is if ashamed of being observed , and
entered. It was a fitting place to hatch
in evil deed. The floor was covered
svith \ filthy sawdust ; the air was rank
ivith the fumes of sour beer and adul-
erated whisky ; the lamps were not
fet lighted , and his eyes blinked as he
ntered the Sirty dusk of the interior.
Che door which he pushed open ad-
nitted him to " a parlor scarcely less
llrty and disgusting . ' than the saloon ,
, _ . . , . ' . ' . , J' . . , . . ' , , ' . \ . . " . . . . .
- - ' " -
.
-p
*
itself at the opposite end of which 'he
beheld the object of his search.
"Well , I see you are here , " he said ,
drawing a chair to the table.
"And waiting , " a deep and rich but
melancholy voice replied.
"Can't we have a couple of can-
dles ? These shadows seem to crawl
up my legs and take me by the throat.
I feel as if some one were blindfold-
ing and gagging me , " said David , look-
ing uneasily about.
The judge ordered the candles , and
while they were waiting observed :
"You had better accustom yourself to
shadows , young man , for you will find
plenty of them on the road you are
traveling. They deepen with the pass-
ing years , along every pathway ; but
the one which you are about to set
. .
your feet leads into the hopeless dark. "
"What I want is help. "
"And so you have appealed to me ?
You wish me to go to this woman and
tell her that her marriage was a
fraud ? "
"I do. "
"Young man , have you no compunc-
tions about this business ? " said the
judge , leaning forward and looking
earnestly into the blue eyes.
"Compunctions ? " said Davidin a dry
echo of the question. "Oh ! some. But
for every compunction I have a thou-
sand desperate determinations. "
"I will help you. There is no use
trying to save you. You are only an' '
other moth ! You want the fire , and
you will have it ! You will burn your
wings off as millions have done before
you and as millions will do after you.
What then ? Wings are made to be
burned ! I burned mine. Probably if
I had another pair I would burn them
also. It is as useless to moralize to
a lover as to a tiger. I am a fool to
waste my breath on you. Let us get
down to business. You say that she
loves you , and that she will be glad
to learn that she is free ? " I
"I do ! her heart is on our side. She
will l believe you , easily ! "
"Yes , she will believe me easily ! She
will believe me too easily ! For six
thousand years desire has been a syno-
nym for credulity. All men believe
what they want to , except myself. I
believe everything that I do not want
to , and nothing that I do ! But no
matter. How . much am I to get for
this job ? "
They haggled a while over the price ,
struck a bargain and shook hands-the
same symbol being used among men
to seal a compact of love or hate , vir
tue or vice.
"Be at the Spencer House at 11
o'clock , " said David , rising. ' . 'You will
find us on the balcony. The doctor is
to spend the night in a revel with the
captain of the Mary Ann , and we shall
be uninterrupted. Be an actor. Be a
great actor , Judge. You are to deal
with a soul which possesses unusual
powers of penetration. "
"Do not fear ! She will be no match
for me , for she is innocent-and when
was virtue ever a match for vice ? She
is predestined to her doom ! Fare-
well ! Fare-ill , I mean , " he muttered
under his breath , as David passed
from the room.
Having regained his calmness by a
long walk , David hurried back and
reached the open space along the river
front where peddlers , mountebanks
and street venders plied their crafts
just in time to meet the doctor as he
drove up with his horses.
.
CHAPTER X.
After the doctor had vanished that
evening , David and Pepeeta passed
down the long corridor and out upon
the balcony of the old Spencer House ,
to the place appointed for the inter-
view of the judge. The night was
bright ; a refreshing breeze was blow-
ing up from the river and the fre
quent intermissions in the gusts of
wind that swept over the sleeping city
gave the impression that Nature was
holding her breath to listen to the
tales of love that were being told on
city balconies and in country lanes.
Under the mysterious influence of the
full moon , and of the silence , for the
noises of the city had died away , their
imaginations were aroused their emo-
tions quickened , their sensibilities
stirred. It seemed impossible that life
could be seriously real. Their concep-
tions of duty and responsibility were
sublimated into vague and misty
dreams and the enjoyment of the mo-
ment's fleeting pleasure's seemed the
only reality and end of life.
"Pepeeta , you have long promised
to tell me all you knew of your early
life ; will you do it now ? " asked Da
vid.
"Of what possible Interest can it be
to you ? " she answered. ;
"It seems to me , " he replied , "that
I could linger fo-rever over the slight- I
es.t detail. It is not enough to know
what you are. I wish to know how
you came to be what you are. "
"You must reconcile youi'self to ig-
norance ; the origin of my evistence is
lost in night. It is too sad ! I do
not want to think of anything that :
happened before I met you. My life
began from that moment. Before , I
had only dreamed. "
They ceased to speak , tnd sat silent-
ly gazing into each other's faces the
heart of the woman rent with a con-
flict between desire and duty , and that I
of the man by a tempest of evil pas-
sions. At that moment , a slow and
heavy step was heard in the hallway.
They looked toward the door and in
the shadows saw a man who contemJ J
plated them silently for a moment and
then advanced. David rose to meet
him.
him."I beg your pardon , " he said , feign- ]
ing embarrassment , "I had an errand I
. I
" > . . . . . , -
" . .
. ' ; : ( ' " : " , . .
.
.
\
I with the lady and hoped I should flnA
her alone. "
"You may speak , for the gentleman
IB the friend of my husband and my-
self , " Pepeeta said.
"I will begin , then , " he responded ,
"by asking if you recognize me ? " And
at that he stepped out into the moon-
light.
Pepeeta gave him a searching glance
and exclaimed in surprise , "You are
the judge who married me. "
He let his head fall upon his breast
with well-assumed humility , remained
a moment in silence , looked up mourn-
fully and said , "I would that I had
really married you , for then I should .
not have been bearing this load of
guilt that has been crushing me for .
months. "
At these words , Pepeeta sprang from
her seat and stood before him with her
hands clasped upon her breast.
"Be quick ! go on ! " she cried , when
she had waited in vain .for him to . pro-
ceed.
. "Prepare yourself for a revelation of
treachery and dishonor. I can conceal
my crime no longer. If I hold my
peace the very stones in the street will
cry out against me. "
"Make haste ! " Pepeeta exclaimed ,
imperatively.
"Madam , " continued the strange
man. "You are not married to your
husband. I deceived you as' I was
bribed to do. I was not a justice. I
had no right to perform that ceremony.
It was a solemn farce. "
These words , spoken : slowly , solemn-
ly , and with a simulation of candor
which would have deceived her even
if she had not desired to believe them ,
produced the most profound impres
sion upon the mind of Pepeeta. She
approached the judge and cried : "Sir , I
beg you not to trifle with me ! Is what
you have told me true ? "
"Alas , too true. "
"Oh ! sir , " she cried , "you cannot un-
derstand' ; but this is the happiest mo-
ment of my life ! "
"Madam ? " he exclaimed , interroga-
tively and with consummate art.
"It -is not necessary for you to know
why , " she answered ; "but I thank'
, ,
"
you.
"What can it mean ? I implore you
'
to tell me , " he said.
"Do not ask me ! " she replied. "I
cannot tell you now ! My heart is too
full. "
"But does this mean that I havo
nothing to regret and that you have
forgiven me ? "
"It does. I bless you from the bot-
tom of my heart ! "
She gave him her hand. He took it
in his own and held it , looking first
at her and then at David with an ex-
pression of such surprise as to deceive
his accomplice scarcely less than his
victim. Young , inexperienced , inno-
cent ! in this sin at least , she stood be-
tween them-helpless.
It isone thing for a woman delib-
erately to renounce her marriage voks ,
but quite another for. a heart so loyal
to duty , to be be betrayed into crime
by an ingenuity worthy of demons.
Child if misfortune that she was ,
victi mof a series of untoward and fa
tal circumstances , she had reason all
her life to regret her credulity } but
never to reproach herself for wrong in-
tentions. Her heart often betrayed
her , but her soul was never corrupt-
ed. She ought to have been more care-
ful - alas , yes , she ought-but she
she meant no sin.
( To be continued. )
I
"Ways of Women in Tunnels.
Father Knickerbocker is 283 year 1
old , but he is still learning things 1
about women. His latest experience 1
may be of value to younger and calj j
lower cities , so declares a writer in j
Success.
Some time ago William G. McAdoo ,
who has built up a thriving little
business under the Hudson river , run
ning trains between New York and
the United States set aside a special
car for the exclusive use of women. a
The people hailed the innovation with
joy. Here at last women could ride ,
safe from jostling , seat-grabbing , to
bacco-scented men. True some fun
3
was poked at the "Jane Crow" cars ,
and there were sly suggestions about
mirrors and perfumery and powder
boxes , but nevertheless Mr. McAdoo :
was hailed as a public-spirited busi-
ness man and a perfectly lovely , -gen' 8
tleman. Polite uniformed attendants
fc
at the stations informed ladies of the
special car and everything went beau ;
tifully.
There was only one drawback to the
scheme. The vv/omen would not use
the car. Giving the uniformed attend
ants , oh , such a look , the ladies crowd-
ed into the co-educational department ,
leaving their special car half empty.
After three months' trial the gallant
Mr. lIcAdoohas ordered the ladies'
discontinued.
car c
ct
A Sidewalk Conversation. \ .
"How's your garden coming on ? "
"Why do you ask that question ? "
demanded the suburbanite suspicious
ly.
"Just dut of politeness. "
"Glad to hear that. I thought may-
be I had promised you some vegeta
bles.
Had One of Her Own.
Rector-I did not see you at our so
cial gathering last week , 'Lisbeth. Why
'
was that ?
'Lisbeth-Well , I had a little gather
ing o' my own last week , sir.
Rector-Dear me ! Where was that ?
'Lisbeth-On the back of me neck
sir. - Ally Sloper's Half-Holiday.
A Great Advantage.
"But this house is twenty-five milea
from the railroad. "
"Just the Marathon distance , my
friend. Think of" what exercise you'll
get running for the trains.-Louis-
ville Courier-Journal.
Always Fine.
"Sets a good table , eh ? How's til *
meat ? "
"Fine ! Chopped oteak ! "
Our occupation Is that which we M-
lect , our interruptian is that which Ji
Bent UL
>
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I HIGH DfviNC PEOM THE CUFFS 'OF ENGLAND.
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.f jlI 1@iJ ; & r1 .i $ } , : Lt" ; : . .n
. , . . ' . : . . : . , . . , ' . . , . . , . . ; , . . . . , . J
4 { . ' ir , . r ' ' { i y ' t ' ' ' ' ' ' ? . t ' fY : ' } ' ' ' 0 . " " " "w . . l : ' -jpr. . . , . 3,1 y. ' f : " ' ; ' . 4y . 1. , , , ' v. } % ; : . . 1 . , ' . . . , . . . , . .
. . : : yv " : 'Yo' " Pn ; : , t . . . y. . . ? . . ; . .o- ; ' : . : . : . : . < > > Jr/ . . ; . , ; ; . ; ' " . : . . : . : . . . ] . . : ; . . : : , - : . : . : ; : . : . : : : . , " . ; . : . , : . ; . ; . . \J ) : . . : . ; ; I : : . . . 1 . " : : # . tt ' - > , ltdr . : . . : . . ) . . - . . ; . ' ' ' ' " ' ' " " ) : ; fe : ' < = ' ' - j . : . 'j . : ' t. . : : : . : . ; . . : , , : . '
s . yg . . . . . . . : : 1 . . ; t1j . . : . ! ; i : ; i ( : i ; . " : .v. ' . ' . ( : Wl . , ; : : . . \i : : ; ; ; ; : : : : : ; tit $ $ + r & tW t : ) r T .s. ; . : f : ' : ' . . : . . . ' . " : ; - : i
r ; : : } " . . . , . , . . . ; . . 4 : : : . , . . . . .x ; , K "ro" . . : . . . . . . ; . . : " ' 'r ' . . , : ) , . < . > . - . - $ s. . is , . : . . . : . . : . . . /'f ' + \ . . . . . : ; . : . . hl .
. ; ny' . . : . . . " . : . " ! . tr.t . : .J. . : . : . . : ; . ; . : . , " . , ' tf\j , . + > . : . < . - . . . : . : . : ' , . : . . . \ : : ' , , ' . : ' . . . :1 t. . > . .a : . ; . ; . " . ' : : . : . { : . ' : . _ ' ; : } .w. . ' ; . : . ; . < .0' . . . . f . . : . ! . ! : ; . : . ' . . d..XX-C- ' . , + . . . fi . . . : : : , . ' ' : t'f : . .y'y : . : , : : , . > . . . . , . . ' : . , ) : . > ' > - ; . . ; . . . . . . . : . h. . " . , . ' : . . . ' ; : : i . : : ' : ; . . . , . . . . . . , . , . ; .U" . . . . . . ; : . : t. . :5' . . : ' . . . , < r . . i . . " . : , . : : : . ( . . ' . . . . , , . . ; : . ; { ; . : . < ' { . : : . $ . 'k. . ' . . : . . < . : < . . . , , , . . , - : > . . . , > . , . " : ' , , . ' { : . . " . : , w. , . : : ? . > . . , ir . : vw : > , . : " y' , > # : . ' .l\ .1' . ' % < ' " ' : ' . . . . . . JI' . . . u
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The view shows the last of a series of remarkable dives recently made
from the Saddle Rock , Torbay , fifty feet high. The man in mid-flight is
B. T. Verry of the Torquay Leander Club , who was captain of the Cam-
bridge team in 1905. The second man is F. G. Colllngs member of the-
same club. Owing to the extreme narrowness of the peak , which is reached ;
by crawling on all fours , the men are unable to stand abreast. One , there . I
fore , stands behind the other , and directly the first goes over , the second" . ,
springs from the edge , clearing the rocks below , in the direct line of his ! I
leader. . .
OSTA INDIANS WERE DESTROYED.
White Man' Coveted Their Land for
Sheep and Used Treachery. _
In his article on his adventures
among the Ona Indians of Tierra del
Fuego in Harper's , Charles F. Furlong
charges the white colonists with hav-
ing wantonly destroyed this once
strong race.
"Less than three decadts ago the
primitive inhabitants , the Ona Indians ,
r
lived , hunted and fought from Ana-
garda point in Magellan strait to
Beagle channel.
"Had the whole island been like the
southern half , to-day the Onas in all
probability , would be in control of
practically all of their original domain.
Had it been like the northern half ,
the world would undoubtedly look
upon the hunting grounds of an ex-
tinct race. As it is , within less than
thirty years the Onas have shrunk
from [ perhaps 3,000 to 300 , and all be-
cause they possessed land the white
man coveted for his sheep , and had an
inborn courage and ferocity strong
enough to oppose . him.
"With the establishment of the first
sheep range , in the early 80s , began
i cruel and persistent warfare on the
part of the white man. In reprisal for
the : land from which he was driven
the ; Ona raided the range at night for
the : 'white guanaco , ' as he called the
strange animal , the sheep , which he
found : not only easily captured , but
sweeter ! and more tender to the taste
than : the wild guanacos of his island.
"These raids were so _ persistent and
issumed \ such magnitude that it really
became a case of Indian or sheep and
the : scattered settlers with their rang-
srs began , a warfare of extermination .
n which hirelings were engaged and
the : 'chunkies' shot on sIght. Occa
sionally ; a large number with their
svomen ; and children were rounded up
and shipped to Dawson island , where
tuberculosis-infected : quarters soon ac-
complished their work. It being a
case primarily of bullets against ar
rows In an open country , the result
svas obvious. In treachery the white
man outdid the Indian. He invariably
took : him at a disadvantage and played
false : with his truce , even resorting to
poisoning one of the Onas' main food
supplies , the blubber of stranded
whale. ; " I
Individuality.
Individuality is the only real life.
"
It is breathing the ozone of mental
moral , spiritual freedom. All other ' "
living is i an excuse , a substitute , a '
near thing. Nature put her stamp of
individuality on every man. Some
people seem to spend most of the
time trying to soak off the stamp. .
They wear a uniform opinion , they
seek to keep in step with the line , , . . ,1 ,
they march In solid sameness along :
the comfortably paved road of other
people's thinking. Nature intended ,
life as an Individual problem , differ-
ent for each man ; she wants an indi-
vidual solution.
Individuality means self-knowl "
[
edge self-confidence self-reliance , , ' rf
. . , r '
self-poise , self-control , self-conquest. ' t' r
It means the fullest , freest expression
/
of our finest self , as the most perfect
rose best represents the plant It is-
the complete , self-acting unity of
man's whole mind , nature , heart and ,
life. It is moved ever within ; not -
from without. The automobile is a.
type of indivIduality-it is neither
pulled , pushed nor propelled by out-
side forces ; it is self-inspired ; self- '
directed and self-moving.-The Circle.
Richard "Wasrner. ;
"
"Every one finds some fault with o
Wagner , but that is because he is a.
mountain , a huge bulk of a soul with
black caverns , scarred edges , barren
wastes and empty craters. He has
been weather stained , mud-spattered
lightning-struck dynamite-blasted , but
still he Is a mountain ; his thrust is
upward , the peak Is
snow and sun- i
shine , and he commands the horizon. I
He belongs with the master 'heights : l
of human glory , with Homer
, Dante , ; i I
Shakespeare , Milton , Michael Angelo ] i 41
Beethoven ; and he is of a bigness 1 , I
with the biggest" - Rupert Hughes m. . i ,
Smith's Magazine. I
Foolish Question. .J > .
"Hello ! " cried the neighbor. , "What
are you building a new chicke'n house- I
for ? "
"Why , " replied Nettles , "for a flock I '
of pink elephants of course. You ;
didn't suppose I'd put chickens
in It , i ,
"
did you 1" ;
,
It's some satisfaction to the wi d 0'\11' t '
to realize that she looks well In black
, . I
"SAY WHEN , MY OWN. " . " , 4 r . l I 1 - .
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