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THE PLACE BEIOXD. Thev call the Place To-morrow ? After While. The Way, Bc-Tatienr. Keep-of-Heart-aiulCheer; 'Tis over there, a hit beyond the stile, A little farther on. but. never here. And all day long and through the fretful night I saw them struggle, toil, keep dream,ing on Through valleys, up the hills and o'er the height, But ever when they reached there it was , gone! And if they toiled a mile, it moved a mile Along the road. At break of every day They thought to reach it in a little while But at tne dusk it seemed as far away As when the day began; they saw the lights That flickered through the dusk a weary mile, Along the road, and some toiled on o' nights, Thev call the Place To-morrow?After While! And some fell faint and some were red and strong With coursintr blood that would not be denied. If through the valleys dim the way was long. . 1 The Place was just upon the other side. If up the hills the journey led and steep And rough the way, the bells of it rang clear. And some I saw to run and some to creep, And fell a curse, and now and then a tear. Oft in the twilight, voices from the dusk About the Place bade fallen men to rise, Fame sang the glories of her certain Husk And Beauty lured men on with wanton eyes; Worn women heard the chant of Rest, so near, And yet no nearer ever, day on day, But Oh, the bells at Vespers echoed clear? They call the Place To-morrow?or Someday! They call the Place To-morrow ? After While, With gleaming tower on tower and spire on spire, It rises there, ten leagues, a league, a mile Beyond the day?the City of Desire! Long days of Rest are there, and Joy and X CHL'C And Music and Content and Sorrows Done, Of Dreams Come True and Longings Bidden Cease, Of Wearv Hearts Made Glad and Struggles Won. So I will join you, Brother, on the Way They call Have-Patience, Be-of-Heartand-Cheer, And we will look a league beyond the day Whence come the voices, musical and clear; 'Tig just across the valley, o'er the height. Aaown the road, a step beyond the stile. Let's toil a day and dream another night? They call the Place To-morrow?After while! ?J. W. Foley, in the New York Times. |oH?i25rB5H5B5H525iH5H52525H5ej Marrvina Man/. JI a ~ e EH5H5HSH255HSn2SESE52SH5H5H Ted Tenton threw the dainty note Into the fire, and reflectively watched the tinted sheet blacken and finally disappear. "There's an end to that," he said half aloud. "I guess maybe I'll marry Mary Horton after all." For a person who has just been refused by the daughter of a near millionaire. he smiled rather pleasantly. True, Miss Horton had far less money than Miss Manwaring, whose letter had just served to feed the flames, but Tenton was rather glad that things had turned out as they had.' A somewhat conceited person, he had not enjoyed eating the humble pie which Miss Manwaring fed her admirers and smiled comfortably as he recalled his easy triumph with Mary Horton three summers before. She had been just budding into womanhood then, and she had already given promise of being a beauty. Her father was rich as riches went in a small town, but he had an odd objection to travel, and he never fared far from home, nor permitted his family to do so. His wedding journey had been his last, so Mary had never been outside of the county in which she had been borp. Commercial travelers and third rate dramatic companies were s al\ most the only visitors to Car'oondale, so when Tenton had come to visit an elderly aunt, he had won Mary's love without effort. To him it had been merely a summer flirtation which Jhe had, been willing tt carry on into the winter, since it had involved only the writing of letters which had given him practice at love making by mail. To the girl it had been an awaken. lng of soul, but Tenton was too selfcomplacent to read between the lines of her letters. He had accepted snugly the frank worship of the girl, and did not realize that rapidly she was uecuming a woman. Tenton liked to write letters, and so the correspondence had continued and in spite of his adroit excuses as to why he could not come to Carbondale again, the girl seemed to expect that presently ie would come to claim her hand. Tenton had encouraged her belief, for he assured himself that should he fail to win the heiress he would have Mary to fall back upoD. Now that Miss Manwaring had written a very decided negative, he reached the conclusion that he was glad of it. His pride had been hurt a thousand times while he was making his campaign for the Manwaring millions. Mary Horton was an only daughter and would receive at least ?60,000. That was plenty to start them, and he might even learn to live in Carbondale, where he could be the richest man in town. It sometimes was safer to be the largest frog in a small puddle, and in the city Tenton felt at times that he was little more than a polywog?a tadpole on the edge of tne pond in which there were many great frogs. Some business matters must be closed up before he would be able to get away. Also Tenton thought, with a pang, of the literary masterpieces tritVi twKi/?K */\/l ? AXIA nuiV/U ac Lavuicu iUlia iuauwai^ ing, so in a graceful note he requested the return of his letters. He was somewhat surprised when he received a reply to the effect that he would receive them later, then the matter slipped from his memory in the rush of affairs that preceded his trip to Carbondale. He wired Mary that he was coming, so, as he stepped from the train, he was surprised that she was not on the station platform to greet him. Ruefully he made his way to his aunt's home and accepted her surprised welcome with such toleration as he could command. He always had detested h;s Aunt Hetty, but she lived In Cs bondale and was his excuse for coi ing to the town. "Mary Horton?" repeated the o lady when.greetings were over ai Tenton ventured an inquiry as to tl young woman. ' She went past he this morning. She was riding wi Jim Blake. Looks as Jim had c you out. Ted. In the last few mont he's been seen pretty steady wi Mary. Before that she didn't go o much." Tenton smiled a superior smile, the last few months he had be< rather lax in writing to Mary, might have been expected that s! would be piqued and take up wi one of the town boys, but now that 1 was on the ground he assured himse that he would send this man Blal about his business. He had only a week in which win. but that was time in plenty, that evening Tenton slipped into h dress suit and went to call on tl Hortons. He gasped with surpri as Mary came into the room. He h; thought of her merely as a pret child, a dainty, clinging little thii in whose big blue eyes love shoi clearly. He was not prepared for tl tall, graceful young woman wl swept into the room with quiet di nity, and who accepted his greetir with the self-possession of Edith Ma waring herself. He had meant clasp her in his arms with an a fection of rapture, and have it a over with in the first five minute Instead he found himself bowing lo over her proffered hand, and presen ly he was 3itting on a chair half w; across the room from her, with tl blood tingling in his ears and strange fluttering in his heart, f had come to court a country girl, ar had found a goodess. "I expected to see you at the st tion this morning," he said meanin ly, when at last he found his tongi again. "I thought that I would come was the careless response, "but M Blake asked me to drive over to tl Point, and it was such a beautif morning that it seemed a pity i waste it standing around the gloon old station." "And you went driving with Blal when you knew that I was coming' hp Tf>nrn?rhed "It was not like th last j'ear." "Other things are not as they wei last year," she reminded. "I shou! not be surprised to hear that you hz been running around with ever .< many girls." "You can think that!" Tenton tones were properly tinged with shoe and reproach. "Don't you know thi there is but one little woman wt has lived in my thoughts these tw years. I have tried a hundred tim< to come to you, Mary. At last I hai succeeded, and when I go back I wai with me your promise that I ma come again, sooner this time, ar claim you as my bride. Surely, fro: my letters you could have seen that "Do people always mean what th( say in their letters?" asked Mary, a most flippantly. , "I do," assured Tenton impres6iv ly. "You know I meant what I hai said in my letters, Mary, and yet find vnn nut driviner with this fello Blake the very day I arrive." "It was because of your letters thi I have decided to marry Mr. Blake she said, with a tender smile lightir her face and making it even moi adorable. "When I tell you that i this package are your letters you wi understand." Smiling oddly, she took from tl table a small, square package ar gave it to him. With tremblir hands Tenton undid the string ar opened the wrapper. As he caugl sight of the first envelope, he turne white to the very lips. "Edith Manwaring is my cousin explained Mary. "She asked me \ return these letters to you in compl ance with your request. Under tl circumstances, perhaps you wou' like to take them home now ar mourn over your dear, dead Iov You must have been very much i love. Mr. Tenton. to copy your o letters to me and send them to Edit She said she enjoyed them vei much." juumDiy renion stumoiea rrom u room. For the first time in his li he was very much in love, and in lo^ with Mary Horton, and he knew th; he had let the prize slip through h hands, because he had not valu* what had been offered so willingl He b*d asked for Mary's hand, ar in return had been given a packas of letters. At the gate he turned, man swung around the porch and n up the steps. The door was sti open. In a broad band of light, tl man strode into the hall and claspt the hand from which Tenton had a cepted the letters. That man w; Jim Blake.?New Orleans Picayun Cockney Talk. An Englishman who had grov tired of his tight little isle came this country to teach school. One di while rehearsing a class of boys spelling the word "saloon" was giv< out. The first boy missed it, likewi the second and the third. The four boy, spelling it correctly, was aski to go to the blackboard and write so that all could see how it w spelled. Pointing to the word, tl teacher said: "This is the way you spell Easy, isn't it? Just a hess, a hay, hell, two hoes and a hen." In writing the word the boy hi placed the letters conspicuously f apart. This peculiarity did not e cape the observing eye of the maste and he asked: "Why did you write it that wa; Why didn't you place the hay near the hell?" "Coz I's afraid it would burn up blurted out the irrepressible young ter, as he dug his hands into 1 pockets. The next word missed was "Ve ice." It was spelled with two n's. "What would you say if I told yi there was but one hen in Venice asked the pedagogue as he survey the class critically above the rim his glasses. "I should say the price of eg would be pretty high," came the a swer from the boy who stood at t' foot of the class.?Housekeeper ?l tstfllv in !|W^^ f\ l5 ice - Laughs at Superstitions. wt tc> i Mrs. Peter Leys, of Grand Rapids, wl s.? i Mich., believes it is lucky to walk "C1 '1S under a ladder and to raise an um- ^ e brella in the house. She laughs at superstition, and never is happier as J than when she spills salt or breaks a th( * mirror. Thirteen has been her lucky aff lg | number. Many of her brightest ex- raJ ie | periences have fallen on the 13th of ie the month, and on August 13, which un 10 j was a Friday, she gave birth to her ha i thirteenth child.?New York Press. M<: ig , tre n" j Unbound Figure. t0 ' Saratoga was agog at the new jru ' " fashion of corsetless women, which 1 | the boxes at the races have shown to bei !8, be the latest departure in the smart wil w set. From shoulder to hip an almost ar< straight line exists in this new, uniy bound figure. A brassiere alone con- he ie fines the curves on any well developed W< a form, and the princess lingerie gown th? Ie is made to suggest rather than to de- mi l(* fine the point which a trim twenty- at two-inch belt formerly adorned.? wi: a" New York Tribune. ma S' in ie j Black and White Gown. an ? I There is a certain charm and dig- da j aity about black and white that well hei r' j dressed women love. . dai ie: I A dinner gown of black silk filet bo< net spangled with jet was mounted M. t0, over a white messaline foundation. be< It was cut low in the neck, and had coi 1 mo yci j oman aiccico. j iwv ce Bands of net embroidered with Mr '3 as . > Scalloped Tomatoes and < 2* j j onions, slice them thin and re j as "j? ( browning them. Peel and | 2 5 | butter an earthen or agates ld I o 3 { tomatoes, season with salt i 30 | +1. | ( bread crumbs, then add a li I 5 - > order, having the last layer i 9 I tm 5 ( utes in a moderate oven, i :It I > tomatoes may be used for th it, l9 ; gold and jet beads were put on over hei ro i the shoulders and crossed below the firs ?s i bust. They then extended around the da; rQ | figure under the arms and ended in to 11 j ropes of jet beads finished with tas- Of W j sels, which formed a sash that hung af? ld | to the hem of the long trailing skirt, nej ^ I ?New York Times. hai fire j To Mold the Fingers. bai If our finger tips are stubby and coi we want them to taper, what then? we e* In Paris they sell little "finger- go( bats." im] I | They are small thimbles that may ful w | be fitted to each finger. "It j There is a catch at the side to reg- thi ulate the size, and the amount of hei j pinching which you wish accom- Pr< 18 | plished. re j If you cannot get a "finger-hat" a in regular sewing thimble will do. II I Have it just a little too small. J Fill it first with skin food. 19 | This keeps the finger tips softer ld j while they are being molded. 's j Wear it, then, as much of the time 1(1 j as you possibly can.?Philadelphia bulletin. , J id lea , Cultivate. , roi to A good memory for faces and facts j. I connected with them, thus avoiding ie ' the giving of offense through not recld j ognizing people. < l(l j An unaffected, distinct and sympa- &ut _ I thetic voice, and avoid the shrill tones ] I' I that one so often hears. gir ld j The habit of making allowances for k the opinions anft feelings of others, ' as well as for .their prejudices. We mo cannot all see matters from the same angle. If we did ours would be a ie , , . are very dreary globe. . e The art of listening without imto ( i patience even to prosy talkers, and of j smiling naturally, even if you are 1S j hearing a funny story for the second *ac J time. It really will not hurt you to < y' j hear It over again.?Home Chat. gr? ld i . . .the y6 < Real Suffragette Leader. in ' Kate M. Gordon, of New Orleans, an( ill j promises to become the real leader ie of the suffragettes in this country. ] ;(j She has forced herself .to the front in is c. the last two years, and now, as chair- an< ag i man of the Susan B. Anthony fund ? e i for the promotion of equal suffrage, er j she is in an official position of great ( j power and influence. She is confident ula I ahe will succeed in raising the $1,m ' 000,000. Her present object is to get to I 100 women to give $1000 each and ^ ly ! 1000 women to give $100 each. She in ! has arranged for subscription work as ?n | in .the North, and for the next few ] se j months will centre her personal effort all th in the South. Miss Gordon thinks 5d that the cause of equal suffrage is not pej it gaining headway rapidly enough in as the South and she aims to arouse the J tie interest of the women in all the Southern States.?New York Press. it. j a i Too Much Monotony. ?* I In regard to the mistakes of nature : in making all living creatures unlike a ? ar j in many ways, Dr. Willard Watson, iS" j in Medical Queries and Notes, says: 1 ?r' j If in a community of animals or wi* i men all the young were always born V? I - ..... -WI1J , ' " j exactly anite, tunureu ii?.e paieuia, et there could be no progress?only ag: utter sameness. The hope and frui- use tion of progress must then lie in the > f" birth of unlike, and while many of 115 the unlike may be useless and dan- ^he gerous, still among them must be . n* the valuable and the hope of coming . ages. Not all men who profess to preach th* doctrine of dissent from 3 ( present conditions are to be regarded ' e(* as dangerous heretics in religion or mo anarchists in social problems; they bel have but taken the first step in pro&3 gress, the revolt from the tame level ' n* of life in which they live, the tug at ton k* the chain of custom and convention tail tft?=5> woman'sI realm % lich fetters them, and we kill them j len we can and-deride them as ' ranks" when they escape our grasp, j is a noticeable fact that where ! j gate of progress lies wide open, i in physical science and medicine, I ?re is no revolt, no anarchist to j right, only steady progress and j pid advance. Thus it appears that science revolts iformity and praises nature for ving made human being unlike. : >notony and uniformity are eximely tiresome and displeasing. lia Ward Howe's Soldier Hnsband. Julia Ward Howe, who has just :ome ninety years old, has been a low for thirty-four years. There , ; few to-day who remember her | sband, Samuel Gridley Howe, yet j was famous in the Old and New i >rlds. As a youth, he fought withh } Greeks against the Turks, and in ddle life he was with John Brown Harper's Ferry. Howe and his fe were spoken of as an "ideally j ited couple." They were married j 1843, when he was forty-two aDd j d she twenty-four. Their four j ughters and one eon have all in- I rited literary talent. Each of the j ughters has published several j Dks, and the son, professor Henry j Howe, of Columbia University, has j ;n honored by universities in this ! intry and Europe for his works od j tallurgy. The latter-day fame of | s. Howe has overshadowed that of j Onions.?Peel half a dozen small j saute in butter or oil without slice as many ripe tomatoes, j eare dish, put in a layer of the ind pepper, cover with buttered ayer of onions; continue in this crumbs, and bake forty-five minCold cooked onions and canned is dish. : husband, but his memory was it in her mind during her birth- | f celebration. Mrs. Howe continues be an advocate of equal suffrage, the Suffragists she says: "We s not contemners of marriage, nor jlecters of home and offspring. We | ?e had, or hope to have, our holy :side, our joyful cradle, our decent ik account. Why should we be isidered as the enemies of society, ! who have everything to gain by , )d government?" Mrs. Howe has j parted the secret of her wonder- j ly preserved youthfulness of spirit, j is that I have never done any- j ng but what I wanted to do," is ! simple statement. ? New York : 3SS. ' PRGTTY gj| 'TO WEAR 4^5^' Mediaeval frocks apparently are ding back to the draped skirt, rhe newest coat collars are large ind affairs of Irish or Cluny lace, j rhe pannier dress is coming back, the dismay of the short women. Dstrich feathers hold their own, j ; most of them now seen areli curled; j Light, old rose tints are genuinely | lish colors for millinery purposes, j rhe veiling of one color over an- ! ler is one of the fashions of the ; ment. i Curious and fascinating dog collars | > made of old coins fastened to- ; her. 3atin crepes, on account of their ' ht weight, are the preferred hat ing. Sowns worn everywhere show a ' sat deal of embroidery done with , i coarsest threads. Plain shoulders are already here, i i full skirts are declared to be on : > way. Dimity printed with dainty flowers j liked by girls for little petticoats i corset covers. r.he sixteen-button boot is the leadin footwear. Driental colors continue to be pop- | .r for trimming. Linens are the most modish among ? new fabric hats. rucks and shirrings have crept in j hip decorations. Black and white combinations are ! the rage for hats. A.11 sorts of black flowers are aptring in millinery. Advance styles indicate that the art skirts will be made with snug ing yoke#. rhe white lace veil is now the veil the day. rhe lace scarf is used to deck many mart hat and takes the place of all ler trimming. Many of the new parasols are made ;h a five-inch border of pompadour | 1 i that is very effective. rhe long, black silk coat, which is iin modish, is one of the generally ?ful fashions of the hour. rhere is a strong rumor that kats ler in the crown and narrower in , : brim are to be brought out. j Linen coats, wLth foulard gowns, < i linen matching the ground color, i )ne of the whims of the moment. Dorset covers and chemises lit al- I ' st straight across the front, there ng little or no fulness at the top. rhere are "blind spots" on the igue which are insensible to cerq flavors. I e*o??ec*? eoicemt PLAY AMD THE S BOY. : "Why, we've done everything for him," will be our first indignant an- j ewer, if anybody asks what we have j done for the American Boy. "Look | at our schools and our colleges! " We have looked after the boy as an j Individual possession, perhaps, but 1 until recently we have been indiffer- | ent to him as an American institution, j We have cared for the blind, the deaf, j the truant, the feeble minded and the t incorrigible. They have had gymnasiums, amusements grounds and all > the luxuries civilization can devise, , because their needs have appealed to our sympathies. Meanwhile, the boy j without a handicap, the ordinary, vig- . 1 orous, every day boy, has been neg- j lected. Schools have been provided j for him, but his other needs have I been ignored. Too often he has been ! denied the inalienable right of child- j hood?the right to play. When it is remembered that the playground appeals to the boy in the formative period from childhood to manhood, the magnitude of our obit- j 1 gation is apparent. It is a civic obli- | gation quite outside the domain of 1 nhilnnfVirnrw qinrA It. ImnrtlVfls thft I I quality of the citizenship of the fu- j ture. The playground is as much a j civilized demand as the public school, | j and it should be conducted as if it were of equal importance. Well-di- ' rected play is of just as much value < as well-directed study. The acceptance of the obligation j to help the boy in his play will hasten | the eradication of child labor. When all the factories have poured forth their workers?girls as well as boys' ( ?into playground*, then, and not ^ until then, shall we be justified in boasting of our American civilization. ?The Delineator. Soldier's Worst Enemy. A soldier who takes part in a mili- : tary campaign expects to face danger j . and perhaps to meet death. It is ' part of his profession. The bravery of men in peril is well known. The j world's history is filled with stories j of heroism. No greater shame can j 1 come to a soldier than to be proved ' ?.w- i . guilty ut cowaruiut?. But disease is far more destructive : 1 In warfare than the enemy's bullets. ' The deaths resulting from it are always more numerous than those which come directly on the battlefield As a matter of fact, the soldiers > killed in fighting are comparatively few. It is always surprising to discover the great mortality with which 1 * disease is charged. In the Civil War, 1 for example, where there were many ; hotly contested engagements, the loss j in killed and in wounded dying in j hospitals was about 100,000. The j loss from disease during the war or ; ^ immediately following it was three tinafis as errest Sanitation has made marked ad- j \ vances since the Civil War. It has gone far ahead since the Spanish j War. In case of another American conflict many lives will be saved be- j cause- of increased knowledge of disease and the methods of fighting it. ' The experiments with typhoid serum ; < have special interest because of this j t consideration. The soldiers who | i submitted to the tests were in the j * line of duty. If the study of their ' cases gives the medical staff of the | army added ability to cope with ty- j phoid fever there will be a great gain, j t Taken with other investigations in , the field of medical research, the inci- i ^ dent is worthy of general attention. j t Epidemics of various kinds are fast i j losing their terrors. ? Chicago Tri- j bune. j j I ( The "Wife Catcher." As Is customary with Indians the ; world over, the Caribs are expert basket weavers, and many strong and t handsome baskets are to be bought ' in noseau at reasonable prices if one a finds the right shops. A peculiar in- ? strument, made of basket straw and c woven closely together so as to form x a hollow tube, ending in a thong ot t twisted ends, and commonly dubbed j a "wife catcher," is also made and r sold by the Caribs, says Leslie's , Weekly. By slipping the hollow end ; over a man's finger'above the joint j and pulling on the twisted end, the j catcher will tighten around the finger j * and the captive will be unable to re- 1 r lease his hand. It is claimed that the j Indians formerly employed this device . as a handcuff for prisoners, using several for each hand, and leading the , captives by the fingers. Few tourists i * are permitted to leave Roseau with- : 1 out a wife catcher, for which a six- 1 pence is willingly exchanged. j 1 A Queer Old Sentence. , An odd judicial sentence was r brought to light the other day from q a lot of musty old records of Ashe County, N. C. It was the formal judgment of conviction of one Carter Whittington on a charge of perjury, | and read: "Fined ten pounds, and v the said Carter Whitting stand in the j n pillory for one hour, at the expiration | of which time both his ears be cut j b off and entirely severed from his i y head, and that his ears so cut off be j n nailed to the pillory and there to re- j o main until the setting of the sun, and j that the sheriff of this county carry < c the judgment immediately into exe- , cution and that the said Carter Whit- \ v tington be confined until the fine and ( d fees are paid." I g | y London's Shortest Street. ! y I r There can hardly be a shorter ofraof in r.nnrinn than thp one f!nn- i necting Pall Mall with the southeastern corner of St. James' Square. ; from which the name John street has , r'i just been removed. It has only one [ " house, which is No. 1; for though j there are two other doors in the j y, Btreet, one is numbered as belonging to Pall Mall, and the other is a side ^ entrance of a public house. Pre- n Bumably, therefore, the single house ^ 13 now to be absorbed into St. James' a Square and the London directory is ! to lose yet another of the slowly di- j fc minishing total of John streets.? ! Westminster Gazette. ! ^ i fi Frederick the Great had tender feet j n knd used to have an old double who j broke in new boota for him. .f' Popularity. W< They blew and blew their Paper Bag i m' The}' blew with all their might, j in< Till suddenly their Bag blew up, I K1 And vanished out of sight. zej And then the Windy Thing was gone, ; ar< Nor could a trace be seen; au For not a single shred was left, Of what had never been. ?Brand Whitlock, in Life. : ? Real Thing. "Is this a genuine Boston bull ten ou rier?" ; wc "Yes, the bona fido article."?Kan< j de sas City Times. . ! 6a - ? ; ori Perhaps She's One of the Rare Ones j un Scott?"Is Jones married?" I Mott?"I guess not. I never heard-; hira blame his Vife for anything."? i . Boston Transcript. , Unable to State. "Does your wife alwayB think before she speaks?" "I don't know. I've never been up qu that early."?Cleveland Leader. ,f I all The Worm Will Turn. ' 8a ? * 02] Barber?"Your hair's very thin Th sIr" thi Long Sufferer?"And you've got a ^ bump on your nose, anr' one of youi eyes squint."?Life. eaj an Put to New Use. ex Crawford?"So your wife doesn'i 13 make mince pies any more?" is Crabshaw?"No. She uses all th? rei odds and ends around the house a; bo trimming for her hat"?Puck. j P& ' an Distinction. dk Father?"Do I understand you tc say that you-wish to be my son-inlaw?" Bh Suitor?"No, sir; I want to marrj ?? your daughter."?New York Sua. Not Yet, But Sometime. Man From the City?"You intend. to.keep bees, I suppose?" rid Suburbanite?"Some day, perhapa Al \t present we are devoting our entire wi snergies to keeping a cook."?Chi- An cago Tribuuo. lul , let A Theatrical Paradox. sui "There is one contradictory thing 671 ictors seem to do." ml "What is thrft? ' to "The longer they are at one stand re< :he more they consider it a run."'Baltimore American. Jrc wc One Wish Unfulfilled. Wife ? "You promised that if 1 tn would marry you ?my every wish pa vould be gratified." Husband?"Well, isn't it?" ? Wife?"No; I wish I hadn't mar- ? ;ied you."?Illustrated Bits. ' H A Farmer's Troubles. *n oe "I dunno how to please these sum- ^ ner boarders." mj "What's the matter, Si?" mj "They're clamoring fer the moss- ^ :overed bucket, after I had fitted ur gej he well with sterilized drinking cups wt ustead." ? Louisville Couriar-Jourlal. in< " an What Troubled Him. Qu Willie?"Say, mother, will it hurt mT o have this tooth out?" pei Mrs. Slimson?"Naturally, but it 1 ar( vill be so sudden that you won't have mc ime to think?just a quick tutn, and t will be all over." Willie?"Um?that's all that could i lappen to me if I had my head pulled 1 . all The Real Spencer."You don't seem anxious to meet j his millionaire?" ! tin "I met a millionaire here last sea- j ton," exclaimed the summer girl, | 'and he wouldn't even buy an ice i _ iream cone. Could you introduce j ne to some young chap who has come | o the beach with two hundred dol- j ars saved up?"?Kansas City Jour- j 0 ?" ! Z mc Anxious to Know. an "Yes," said the doctor, "I can cure wl 'ou if you will follow my directions lt igidly." ln "All right?I'll take anything." "I'm not going to give you any- ha hing to take. You must simply quit ab< Irinking intoxicating liquors and Qf ;ive up sniOKing lor at, leasi sia i a?< oonths." I an, "And are you going to charge for j gtc ordering me to do that?" J ea, "Certainly. My fee ig $10." "Say. Doc. how much would you ! an xpect to get in advance for hitting a ' gta aan on the head with an axe?"? ! jt . Ihicago Record-Herald. i Baj ! pai Playing Safe. "Doctor," said the caller, "I'm a iar ictim of insomnia. Can you cure ! we le?" I no "I can," replied the physician. "But ! un efore I take the case I want to ask 1 die ou one question. Are you in busi- [ til ess for yourself or do you work for J an thers?" i ly "I'm employed as e'erk in a gro- ! hii ery," answered the patient. na "Then you'll have to pay in ad- pri ance," said the doctor. "I'm not oubting your honesty, but after I m? et through with you the chances are i lea ou will sleep so soundly you'll lose ' er our job. Then you can't pay me."? I a hicago News. gr< Nu All Profit. "No use of talking." drawled the . ff*0 prkipfi vonth on the roadside fence thar certainly is money in cattle." j 011 "In the stock raising business, I ma oung man?" asked the tourist. "No. not exactly, but an automo- ; . ile ran over that spotted calf a few i linutes ago and the man with the j ig spectacles over his eyes got out i . nd handed me a $5 note."' . "Five dollars'' That's not so much i * >r a good sized calf." . "Yes, but, mister, the calf wasn't , ' line. Now, if I can only stand in c ont of another calf while he gets 1 jn over I'll be right in it. be goeh." on' -Chicago News. arf int Gamboling Witii the Lamfcs^ H How members of the Lambs CIub^H iveled 2735 miles, gave several per-^B rmances each day and gathered in^B e hundred thousand dollars for^B sir new club bouse, is humorouslyHj d by E. W. Kemble in Harper's^B eekly. Maclyn Arbuckle, as an end-^B in, Martinetti as a coryphee, Ray-^B >nd Hitchcock as a "coon,"- Charles^B ein and Mackaye as Roman citl-^B as, Ind Belasco in the spot light^B i among the illustrations which the^B thor contributes to this entertain-^B ; article. H Civic Characteristics. SB A young man who had money wasBB t in a rowboat with three young^B men of the chorus. The boat sud-^B nly developed , a leak. The leakflj ined so rapidly that it required vig- H aus balling to keep the craft afloatH til ..the young man could- rowl ashore. The New York girl bailed with her^B t. The St. Louis girl used her H nd&. And the Chicago girl utilized H r slipper.?Cleveland Plain Dealer/^B "What Shall I Do?" H That l? the problem which Ire- H ently confronts everyone ? espe* H illy parents with small children. A Hj ght Illness treated at once often H vea a long period of sickness and B pense?sometimes prevents death. H ie trouble is that eo tew people can H ink on the Instant what treatment H apply, even if they have the knowl* flj wo nupMAflrr tn pwncnIts thA W ae and know'what simple remedied 9 best To meet this want at small pense the Book Publishing House. 4 Leonard street, New York City, sending postpaid a doctor book oift :elpt of sixty cents in stamps. The ok is illustrated, contains 59$ ges, explains symptoms, causes d simple means of overcoming oiy iary Illnesses. It was written bjr a eminent J. Hamilton Ayrea, A. , M. D. It is a volume which ould be In every household, as no e can tell what moment he may rs?< ire the knowledge it contains. The Home of Gloom. { The London Lancet lives in\ a hor[ world where whatever is is wrong. 1 its visible universe is fraught' th deadly and hideous peril. It ds terrible germ-menace in the colloid collar button, cholera morbus, ; us say, in a .leather razor strop, dden death In' a blue shi$.*; What9r is natural and pleasant and far liar, that our cohtemporary holds, be fatal,, and can prove It. A cor;t Lancet man would lead a life so sroughly sterilized that escape >m it in the bottom of the Thames tuld be the grandest joy In sight ' The Lancet's new fear that cheap' insportation by bus and car.line is ving the way to a race of physical saklings is relatively sane and senile. Walking a mile is good for the dy, and most men will not do it ten they can ride for tuppence, ince the relation between tram cars d spindleshanks. But it caght to remembered that walking is not 3 only exercise in the world. ( iere are men who will ride Ave1 les in a degenerate vehicle, only to imount at the end and work themves into a lather at tennis, golf or lat not. A very large proportion men are rather Interested in keep? themselves "fit." - If the buses 3 making them flabby they will get. t and walk. Moreover, the Lancet ist admit that n.any men practice destrianism professionally. There } postmen, for instance. ? Rich>nd PoBt Dispatch. ^ Between Times. "Look here, Jane, it seems to me at you're asking for more money the time." "That's a delusion, John, dear. If u'll think a minute, you'll realise at I'm spending it, part of the, ae."?Cleveland Leader. ' SENSE ABOUT FOOD acts About Food Worth Knowing. It is a serious question sometimes know just what to eat when a peri's stomach is out of order, and >st foods cause trouble. Grape-Nuts food can be taken at y time with the certainty that it 11 digest. Actual experience of peos is valuable to any one interested foodB. A Terre Haute woman writes: "I . d suffered with indigestion for out four years, ever since at attack typhoid fever, and at times could , t nothing but the very lightest food d then sufTer such agony with my. mach I would wish I never had to t anything. "I was urged to try Grape-Nuts, cinco ncHrur if. T do not have to irve myself any more, but I can eat at any time and feel nourished and :isfled; dyspepsia is a thing of the St, and I am now strong and well. "My husband also had an experlce with Grape-Nuts. He was very ak :md sickly in the- spring. Could t attend to his work. He was put der the doctor's care, but medicine 1 not seem to do him any good unhe began te leave off ordinary food d use Grape-Nuts. It was positivesurprising to see the change In n. He grew better right off, and turally he has none but words of lise for Grape-Nuts. "Our boy thinks he cannot eat a. sal without Grape-Nuts, and he ,rns so fast at school that his teachand other scholars comment on it. m satisfied that it is because of the *ncr olprrtpnts In Orane :<XL UVUlWUiujj ? ts." "There's a Reason." [t contains the phosphate of potash im wheat and barley, which comles with albumen to make the gray itter to daily refill the brain and -ye centres. [t is a pity that people do not know at to feed their children. Therearo ny mothers who give their youngrs almost any kind-of food, and en they become sick begin to pour i medicine down them. The real y is to stick to proper food and b? ilthy and get along without medie and expense. Ever read the above letter? A new e appears from time to time. They s genuine, true, and full of human -?rest.