th courier.
grasp the handle of a kitchen knife as
a soldier grasps his sword; who dress
a goose with the solemn air of a priest
examining the sacred entrails, beat
ing an omelette with the majesty of
Xerxes beating the sea: who turn gray
under their Inevitable cotton caps and
would like In dying to grasp the handle
of a frying pan as the people of India
to they say, grasp the tall of a cow.
There are no more of these men.
As for Martha, the fruit-seller, she
was a good simple woman, but still, as
good as she was, not quite daft about
it ( as folks say sometimes) but in a
way spirited. Yes. Indeed, she found
sometimes in her heart the way of say
ing passionate, touching things that
Monsieur de Voltaire himself, the great
man of his time, might never have
found under his wig.
There are still a few of such women.
It was In the first year class In
French.
The class-was crowded, for the room
was small and the class was large.
The aisles were fiilled with chairs and
up In front were a row of chairs around
the professor's desk. In the most con
spicuous place sat a girl with red hair,
such bright red hair that half the class
when they recited fixed their eyes on
her in the hope, perhaps, that the hairs
brilliancy might throw some, light on
their puzzled brains.
The recitation began. First they
piMiounced the day's vocabulary, a
list of adjectives and a list of nouns,
class had already had the phrases for
"It Is" and "I have." Today the pro
fessor asked the translation of the va
rious combinations of these phrases
with nouns and adjectives. All went
well till it came to the turn of the red
haired girl. The teacher read off the
French and then a name from the card
on the top of the pile.
The red-haired girl smiled a little and
translated:
"I have a white hprse: it is a very
white horse."
was out enough to brighten up his face
and his steady eyes looking out over
the prlarles saw nothing of light or
darkness or earth. He was thinking.
And he had every leason to think,
for Anton's brother had gone to see
the girl who was to have been Anton's
wife.
They sit together, old. shut out from
the real action of the world. His hair
is white anil the veins show blue
through his wrinkled red skin. She Is
younger. She rocks back and forth
forth very gently lest the rocking move
ttK much the book she reads. Her
voice Is low anil tells by the graveness
how much of its old sweetness has been
lost. Hut he does not know that the
sweetness is gone. He listens without
thinking of the voice. The story is
strong an old pathetic tale of the
Scotch Covenanters.
The voice of the reader goes gently
on. The rocking stops and slowly the
old man lifts his hand to hide his eyes.
Then for a long time the reading Is
kept up. Hut there comes a break In
the voice. The old man has both hands
before his eyes now.
The reader stops short for a moment,
gazing intently at the blurred pages
before her. She has finished the death
of the Covenanter's son.
.They sat In the twilight, these two,
.and said their prayers. When they were
young they had read these same oray-
ters. the prayers for the first Sunday in
Lent, qut of their prayer-books. They
had given the pretty leather bound
books to each other on their wedding
day. Now the leather binding was
worn by much handling. Their chil
dren had used them and their grand
children. . But now they had no need of prayer
looks. So many times they had read
these on Sunday evenings that the
words came easily to their lips. The
. fire burned cheerfully In the little
stove; the mantle clock ticked peace
fully; and the old man and woman sat
near the table, she rocking quietly with
her hands folded in her lap. he leaning
forwards with his elbows on his knees.
lie did not seem to notice that he lag-
ged a little in reciting: she would wait
for him at the end of each sentence
and they could begin together again.
So they said their prayers, mindful
of the words and of each other.
The call to noonday prayers rang out
from the high minaret of the mosque.
Three times to the no'rth the call went
forth and to the east and to the south
and to the west. Shrill and high It
sounded piercing the quivering heated
air and penetrating the shops of a seller
of sweeteakes down in a by-street.
Before the shop a dignitary knelt to
pray. Hut within the shop the keeper
stood erect, his turban pressed low
over ids forhead. Long ago he had lost
his belief in Allah and the prophets.
Hut he had prayed whenever the call
had rang out from the mosque. H
was old now and It would be hard to
stand against his friends. But he
would kneel no more towards Mecca,
not again except his heart prayed too.
His old habit would be hard to break;
men would curse him after all but
no .
So he stood in Ids narrow shop while
men outside knelt down. The muscles
of his face jerked painfully, he gritted
his teeth and clenched his hands but
he stood erect.
Anton Christianson sat on the door
step of the little sod house where he and
his brother lived together. Anton had
washed the supper dishes alone tonight
for Carl had gone down to the village.
Hut there had not been many dishes,
. just for two, and Anton could have the
whole evening to 'think. So an hour
ago he had brought out his violin and
his pipe and had seated hlmseir by the
door.
Now his violin lay on his knee; the
pipe in his mouth had gone out long
ago. The rustle of the cottonwood
leaves In the tree by the door, the
grunting of the pigs behind the house,
the shouts or the neighbors as they
drove their cattle In, hardly touched
Anton at all. The last light of the sun
It was at church. The choir was giv
ing some sort of concert. Sometimes all
would stand up and sing, sometimes
four, sometimes two and sometimes
one. Towards the last the alto sang a
solo. She was evidently a western
girl for she made all her "a" sounds
fiat. The soprano had been imported
direct from the east so she no doubt
heard the fiat "a's" with some con
tempt. Hut she smiled when the alto
finished and said something that must
have been complimentary for the alto
went through the pantomime of a
"thank you."
Then the two rose to give a duet:
"He shall lead them like a shepherd
and shall carry them in his arms."
They began together and went
smoothly through the first clause.
Their voices ioso and blended and
sank. Then the alto started out brave
ly by herself.
"And cairy them "
The soprano interrupted.
"Ahnd cahrry them."
The alto was obstinate.
"Aand cairy them," she answered
with spirit.
The soprano broke in before the last
word was well out of the alto's mouth.
This time she held the offending word,
trilled it and came down on a triumph
ant slide.
The alto was quieted.
She came in meekly on the last
phrase.
"In his arms." they sang, and sat
back in their places contentedly.
ANNIE PIJEY.
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55
Bcixikjcui.:!: Sale
Furniture store in Webster block.
SS30ti:5JS so. lltlx Street. 3
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"ECONOMY IS THE EASY CHAIR OF OLD AGE."
But there are other chairs which it is economy to buy
when they can be purchased at such low price.
Read they few following prices.
Rodcer-is; $$!.? ZZ oriel ix;p,
IMiiiiigrRoom CJiairs 85c xvp,
rar-loir S.its Jl.liS orxel ixtj.
(3XSsf'ee4e'eS
All of our untrimmed hats at from
25 to 50 per cent discount next Monday,
Tuesday and Wedneseay.
Special prices on untrimmmed shapes
and flowers.
MRS- R. E. LLr
mn So. llitli Street
)449QiitvQS-i).e-(rr?K- la
A Weekly Newspaper
Is the
Best Advertising Medium
BECAUSE
1 It is carefullv read bv the whole faniilv.
2 It is not thrown aside on the day of issue but
is fresh for a week.
3 Ten thousand dollars arc spoilt for magazine
to one hundred in daily newspaper advertising.
-1 The weekly newpap-r is not put into the
waste basket.
Ewrv advertisement is read.
fWMMW;4rMM4444444
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