THE COURIER.
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Modern Russia will be taken up. The
next program will include talks upon
the Russian Government, the Russian
Commune System and the Greek Cath
olic church.
Copy of a Model Constitution Prepared
by Revision Committee of the
N.F.W.C
.ARTICLE I
The name of this Association shall be
(The Fortnightly, Sorosis, Woman's
club or any other name agreed upon.)
ARTICLE II
The object. of this Association is to
stimulate intellectual and moral de
velopment and to promote good fellow
ship among its membere.
ARTICLE III
The officers of this Association shall
be a president, vice president, secretary
and treasurer, whose duties shall be
such as belong to their usual offices in
all societies.
ARTICLE IV
All officers Bhall be elected for one
year only. The election shall be by
ballot.
ARTICLE V
This Constitution and By-Laws may
be amended at any regular meeting by
a two-thirds vote of members present,
provided notice of Buch amendment has
been given at the previous meeting.
BY-LAWS
1 The tegular meetings of this club
shall be on the first and third Wednes
days of every month, excepting June,
July, August and September. They
thall be held from three to five o'clock.
2 The annual fee shall be fifty cents.
3 In the discussion which follows a
paper, and in business meetings, no
member shall speak longer than five
minutes at a time, nor niore than twico
on any one point, unless permission is
granted by the president.
ORDER OF EXERCISES FOR REGULAR
MEETINGS.
1 Call to order.
2 The minutes of the last meeting.
3 Reading of letters, or anything of
special or local interest.
4 Announcement of subject and place
of next meeting.
5 The paper.
G Discussion.
7 Adjournment.
Study of art in the school room
Mrs. Fisher
Current events led by Mrs. Harmon
Travel scenes in California
Mrs. Killarney
Wayside sketches from the home of
General Lee Wallace Mrs. Howe
Music
THE KID.
(Katharine Melick.
For The Courier.
The Woman's club of Hooper have
recently enjoyed a group of three lec
tures, Ireland, Scotland and London,
by Doctor A. T. Wolffe.
The Auburn Woman's club opened
their meeting to guests this week. The
following program was given:
Music
Rota Bonheur Miss Hay
Benefit to the amateur of the study
of art Mrs. Harman
Raphael (Ideal women) Grace McGrew
J. F. HARRIS,
No. I, Board of Trade,
CHICAGO.
Gr9
STOCKS
AND-
BONDS
Grain, Provisions.. Cotton.
Private Wires to New York City and
Many Gties East and West
MEMBER
New York Stock Exchange.
Chicago Stock Exchange.
Chicago Board of Trade
The Conductor and the Pennies.
J got on a car this morning to come
down town and there were two other
women on the car.
Also a man.
This does not include the conductor and
motorman.
The conductor went to collect the fares,
and one of the women counted out five
cents.
Five little copper cents.
Five pennies. Think of it !
1 1 took me so aback that when he came
for my fare I looked at him with a va
cant stare, and he passed on.
He thought I had paid once.
But think of it ! Five pennies ! !
I will be charitable. I suppose Bhe got
them from the laundry man, or in
change for a yeast cake. But were there
no little hands in reach, grasping for
those pennies, eager to get at the corner
a whack at a prize package & draw, per
chance, a nickle prize? But she gave
them to the conductor. All of them.
Five pennies. You can tell how strongly
I feel about it, because 1 have passed
five places where I might have para
graphed. And if you wad out nonsensa with while
space it makes it less wearisome.
But, Oh, Girls, Girls, don't give your
pennies to the street car conductor.
Think of the little bands, think of the
church collection. Tnink of the starving
in India. In case of doubt Bend them to
me.
Nothing is too Bmall for me to throw a
fit about.
Postage stamps acceptable.
Five penniee! Sillifred Clack, in The
Philistine.
The Bar Man and the Beer Checks.
(After SilWrcd Clack.
Five little beer checks! Think of it,
Boys five young, innocent looking beer
checks:
I watched the young man count them
out, one by one, slowly, each one good
for a drink at "Tim's Place." Were
there no dry throats, yawning, drinkless,
outside that plate glass window, that
this narrow soul should count out, one
by one, those rive little beer checks?
Were these no wavering politicians
whose balance of indecision might have
been thrown, by even one of those five
little checkB?
I was so taken a-back by the sight that
when the gentlemanly mixerologist said,
"What'll you have, sir?" that I gazed at
him vacantly he passed me by, think
ing, perhaps, 1 bad had my drink or was
shy the price.
I feel strongly, perhaps, but I am
thirsty; you may realize how deeply I
was affected when I tell you I passed
five saloons on my way home without
remembering to go in then, coming out
of my trance, went in the sixth and
spent the re6t of the evening. O, Boys!
don't don't give your beer checks to
the Bar Man! Are there no church con
tribution boxes? Think of the thirsty in
India! Think of the thirsty in our own
land! Failing them, think of me! Noth
ing is too dry for me to kick about! I
always ask the clerk at the post-office to
lick my stamps. Five beer checks! Think
of it! Klta Matheson.
TART ONE.
When a man tolls a woman that he
understands her thoroughly, he is either
ust falling in love with her or just fall
ing out.
This may be the story of the Little
Lady's boy. Again, it may not. Ah!
If only we could know! There is to be
some comfort, after all, for us, in be
coming a part of the vast Unknown.
We shall find out so many things.
It was long before the self-installed
guardian of the House of the Grottoes
preceived that there had been a boy.
Some of the marbles among the coral
and sea-urchinB were strangely chipped
and nicked. There was a baby picture
beneath the hair-wreath, and its aureole
of white curls had been none of th
gipsy grand-daughters'. The small fists
clutched nothing at all, with masculine
assurance. Often and often the blue
eyes of the little dame rested on those
email, assertive fists, before the new
friend understood. There are bo few
things a boy leaves behind him, when
he slips out of a life he filled.
But the empty place is bo big. What
were the wants of two boarders, or their
talk of donations or examinations as
the case might be, what could these
be to the lone mother-heart? Some
thing, for she often stood in the tiny
door way, a real yellow cat beside her,
and a worsted one under her feet, to
Bay, "Be sure to come back tonight.
His Reverence is away at his country
appointment, and it's 60 lonely." Then
when the two women sat long over their
tea, the hour was drawn out by many a
ruse, the opening of a wicker basket
that held a string of gold beads two
centuries old, and by the same token,
worn into shining halves; or the un
rolling of a creamy bertha of real lace
wrought by the wearer of the beads two
generations past. You may see them
both in the painting of the little lady
over the corner grotto. But that color
in the delicate young face is not even
as well done as the flush that comes
now upon the sweet old cheeks.
"Good night. I wish I knew whether
the Reverend would come back before
morning."
"You're not afraid?'"
"No; I'm used to that. It's when I
don't hear him till his hand is on the
latch."
The look, more than the words, the
color dropping out of the patient lips,
haunted the younger woman. It was
true, then, the whispered story of the
lad who came only by night to the
house of shadows, the lad who in a
boyish frolic had accidentally struck
and killed his best friend. The neigh
bors had been very obliging with many
details, but the boarder bad held her
peace. She only knew that no Bon of
the white-haired dame walked the
etrtets of Ardendale by day.
The anxious longing on the mother's
face, whenever the postman came, when
ever the little gate clicked, or the latch
rattled in the wind, said that nobody
had seen the boy by day nor night in
Ardendale for a long, long time. And
as the trembling fingers grew feebler,
and it came to be the young woman's
part to pour hot coffee and stir the fire,
two sat before the old china and thin
silver thinking their thoughts of the
Boy.
Sensitive, impractical, hiB mother's
eon, there could be but one meaning to
the long silence, and that was a mean
ing not to be read. When tho days
grew short and cold, a pair of slippers
"for one of my nephews" began to grow
out of the largest wicker basket of
wools. They were a work of months,
nearly every day some new suggestion
changing the color scheme a little, or
requiring alteration and reconstruction.
Fingers that ever day lost somewhat
of their cunning, worked with stiffen
ing jointr at the pathetic pretense.
There was never any word spoken t
long after tne loving fingers rested.
Nevertheless the girl who watchnl
and wondered, slowly came to know h-r
task. She must find the boy.
The old Jail of Slreeter is of faciei
brick. You notice the grayness more
because of the zig zag lines of new ro.i
repair work, about the east cell win
dowB. They overlook the Branch of
Streeter'e Run, and it was into this
creek that the convicts dropped, from
that jagged red hole, the night of thi
famous "Jail Delivery."
It was a long time ago. The "old
jail' is a forlorn dwelling house, now
and sturdy legged Shanahans play un
der the window still known as "th
Kid's." But the uncompromising walls
must have looked much the same as
they do today, when "the Kid" first saw
them.
It had been such an easy "bag" that
the sheriffs posse laughed, when they
closed in on the boy, perched on a
6quare woodeti gate post, whistling what
sounded like the bugle call for "He
treat." But when they surrounded the
store which he had been watching,
across the street, they found that the
picket had done hiB duty. The night
birds had flown, and only the Hedging
was caught.
He came quietly enough, except when
the black bulk of the Jail stood out of
night. Then he broke away for a min
ute, but a watching officer tripped him,
and he fell with his forehead on the
curb stone. That was how it happened
that they carried him into the corridor,
and the sheriff's wife, watching, with
the little revolver which she kept for
trying moments, hidden in her hand
bag, saw him, so, for the first time with
blood drops on his brown curls, and on
his long brown lashes.
"Tom!"' rang down the corridor, as the
turning cage swung round, to let the
men 9tep in. "That boy sleeps in the
hired girl's room tonight."
"Why Mollie, he's already tried to
escape, and broke his own head against
the side walk."
"The woman's cell, then."
"Where's Frank?"
"They took her to the Home alter
you left, this afternoon."
"Why, that's all right. Is it ready?'
"Yes, only for a pillow. I was airing
the things."
Mollie stepped heavily but firmly to
her linen closet, and chose a small, soft
pillow, which had never seen the "wo
man's cell." She did not know that
after she and her 6ponge were out of the
cell, the prisoner flung himself oil that
pillow, and stood, all night, with his
face against the bars outside his win
dow, and the night air chilling his damp
locks, until, from sheer weakness, ho
slipped down upon the floor, and slept
like the child he was. Not then, but
afterward, she knew that, and other
things of the boy.
"I'm afraid your sponge an' water
done that kid no good, Mollie," said tho
sheriff, as he gulped down his breakfast
coffee. "He's got a terrible cold, tho
jailor Bays."
"I generally do regret them same
things," the sheriff's wife frowned into
her coffee strainer. "I thought Kendal
would be the last."
Her husband leaned back in his chair,
and his long black beard shook with
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