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TO HER? o to him, ah, go to him, and ] Fear not royally to give what All your spirit's treasury scrap He is noble; meet him with a Say to him, ah, say to him, tha Cast away the cowardice that Tpst vnu turn at last to find th Lest you stretch your arms ii Be to him, ah, be to him, the k Teach him all the tenderness And if ever there should come Bid him judge me gently for ?Amel 9 - - - | IN THE. | Fc.t George Verner Fc % in Southern i ? 8 W. R. ROSE, in Cle ^S $: 6e 66 66 66 The girl lightly swungherself down from her pony and ran forward. The man was lying close to the trail, his "white face turned upward, his arms Btretched out. As the girl knelt beside him a strand of her black hair fell from beneath her soft, gray hat and touched his face. He twitched his eyes open. For a moment he was bewildered. Then he slowly smiled. "Howdy, lady?" he hoarsely said. ' The girl drew back. "Ain't you got any sense?" she "brusquely asked. "Very little," he lazily answered. "What's the new proof?" "Lyin' out here in th' sun," she said. "Come, lift yourself. Here, hook onto this." And she gave him her hand. He was weak and limp, and for a moment he tottered, but she held to him firmly. "Wobbly," he said, with a quick smile. "Get your bearings," she commanded. "Straighten up. My, but you're a rag!" "A mere frazzle," he smilingly added. "The next puff of wind may be expected to flutter me along and hang me on the nearest bush." "Cut out th' poetry," said the girl, "and brace up. Can you walk now?" He tested his feet carefully. "They seem to be dependable," he replied. "Whither away, fair lady?" "Drop it,'* said the girl sharply. *'No foolishness. I'm neither fair nor a lady." She pulled up the straying Btrand of her hair as she spoke and tucked it under her hat. His smiling eyes followed her movements. "I'm a sick man," he said; "an abject example of masculine helplessness. Sick men must be permitted to babble. Even at the risk of incurring your displeasure I shall allude to you as a Diana of (he plains." "Plain enough, heaven knows," said the girl. "But there, th' sun has got into your think box. You'll be seein' things an' screechin* next. Come." He leaned on her heavily as they moved toward the pony. And the effort caused him to cough feebly. "I don't know what's come over me," he faintly said. "I seemed pretty fit this morning." "It's th* sleepin' in th' sun at noonday. I tell you," said the girl sharp ly. "Nobody but a tenderfoot would do a fool thing like that. Kin you hold on to th' pony?" "I think so," he replied. "I've held on to bigger ones. But where are you taking me, Diana?" "My name is plain Anna," said the . girl brusquely. "I'm takin' you down to our ranch. Th' cabin is beyond th' clump o' trees yonder on th' creek. I live there with Uncle Jim. Let me help you." . She got him balanced on the saddle and led the pony down the trail and across the lowlands to thecreek. Presently they came in sight of the cabin, a half bungalow affair, with wide porches, and flowers and climbing vines all about it, and with the creek ?quite a wide and noisy stream? splashing along 100 feet away. ' The girl helped the stranger down and led him to the porch and put him in a big, clumsy rocker with many anH ran anH fofpVioH Viim a drink. He sipped the contents of the glass slowly. "I thought I was going to faint," he said presently. "That was the reason - I didn't have more to say to you. .I'm usually pretty gabby. It's fine here." He looked around with an approving smile. The girl whistled to the pony and the latter trotted around the bushes and disappeared behind the house. Then she took a seat on the single step of the porch. "You from th' East?" she asked. "Boston." "Doctor sent you out here, of course?" "Yes. He gave me up, all right. Said Southern California was my only hope. I came out more to oblige him than anything else." "Come alone?" "Yes." 4*No folks?" "Mother. She's abroad." "Where are you stoppin'?" "Los Angeles. I'm in a sanitarium there. Don't like it. It's lonesome. Rppn thprp a wppIc Dnn't slppn wnll Made up my mind to run awav this morning. Boarded a train. Got off at second station. Wandered up and down and fell asleep. Then you came." He told this in a series of little gasps and the girl studied his face Tffhile she listened. ?iS UNSPOKEN. lift your eyes aglow to him; ever he may claim; > le not to show to him. i pride too high for shame. t soul and body sway to him; ; counsels you to flight, at you have lost the way to him, 1 vain across a starless night. *v*r +V10+ eofe imr fr?o +n Viim that, only love can know, a memory of me to him, the sake of long ago. lia Josephine Burr, in Century Magazine. OPEN ? vl> iimd Health and a Wife | i California. : $ \0 % velaod Plain Dealer. jg J "How old are you?" she abrupt! asked. "Thirty-four." ' "You're young yet;*)! He Knew what she meant. "Oh, well," he smilingly answerer "I've seen almost everything wort seeing and I'm pretty tired of it all." She shook hei,<head. She was coi sidering. ' '* ' "What you .want Is to live out \ the open," she said. "Some do g< well, you know. There was a gi come down here from sacraiaent* Pretty far gone, too. . She was tl daughter, of an old friend of Unci Jim's. We put up a tent iOr her 01 there yonder by th' old rexJwood?ai there she stayed. That was five yes ago ? I was just fo'tofin ? an* she livin' yet?married an' a mother. SI sends me a present every Christma an' some day she'o comin' here for visit an' she's gain' to bring th' kids. The man in the big chair leane back with an air of profound satisfa< tion. "This ltf fine," he said, with a littl sigh. "There's a healing tonic in th) breeM and there's soothing music i yoor voice. Life seems a rather plea: ant condition just at this moment." And then a little paroxysm c coughing seized him and he struggle for breath. The girl's face was full of pity.' "You say you're all alone." "Yes," he gasped. "Mother far away?* "Yes." "That's pretty bad. You may b thirty-four, but you seem like a bo: How would that idea of the tent 01 there suit you?" f The lYIaste ? EFORE performing an ? these questions and i J Master Keys that wil | j? Town: What shall I do? "V ? I do this? When shall I d< i all your acts and all the pow ? Bad Luck, Enemies, Chigger S cannot prevent you from wir Increasing Success. And si C Happiness.?Thomas Dreier, "It's a great idea," he eagerly sai< "It fascinates me. I can pay fc everything, you understand. By Jovi this is awfully good of you! But ca you arrange it?" She nodded. "There is only Uncle Jim," she ai swered, "an' he does whatever I as him. He is getting a little old ai th' rheumatism is botherin' him, ai he can't get around much, an" so know he'll be glad to have you net Dy. "I'll pay well for all the bother make," said the stranger in the sarr eager tone. "We'll see about that later," sai the girl. "You won't make muc bother?you don't look that kind. Ai there'll be plenty of help. There Uncle Jim an' me, an' Marie, that our cook, an' Jose an' Felipe an' Ma lo ? they're th' Mexican boys thi work on th' ranch. 'Tain't as if you be altogether lonesome.""And when can I come?" "just as soon as you iiK.e. "To-morrow?" "Yes." "By Jove, I feel better and strong* already! I'm absorbing somethin helpful by just looking at you. I b? your pardon?what am I to call you? "My name is Anna." "And mine is George." The girl arose. "I am going to get you somethi to eat," she said. "An' when you j back to th* city this afternoon Jo; shall go with you. He has busine there an' is a bright boy. He'll s< about your baggage for you an' con back with you when you're read You must excuse me now, George." "Voc Anno " He laughed suddenlyand the bree lightly ruffled his hair and the soi of. the creek was like a lullaby in h ears. When the girl came out bearing tray bo was fast asleep, the smile stl ! on his white face. ! She put the tray down softly on j little table. | "Poor tenderfoot," she murmure "All alone an' with his mother awi in foreign parts. It makes me plun sorry." And she seated herself 011 the sti and wailed for him to awake. Twenty-four hours later Geor; Verner was settled in his canvas ha itation. It had a board floor, ai sides that would roll up and a pla for his books and his clothes, and comlor'.ablo cot. r "She's a very capable girl," lie sai "There aia't anymore so," declar* the old man. For a time the invalid seemed improve a little. He was happy his new wav of livinc. Tor the bene I and pleasure' of life in the opt strongly appealed to him. But nothing pleased him bett 1 than to get oui some favorite bo< and read it aloud to the girl. He hi to read carefully to avoid hoarsenes but his voice grew stronger in tim Anna was a rapt listener, and wh seemed Very strange to him, she lov< the authors he loved?and Robe Louis Stevenson more especially. ; "He was a 'lunger,' too," Geor; explained, "and-always frail and de cate ? yet full of hopefulness ai helpfulness. But the darkness fell ? him at last; fell on him at a tin when, he could have still done mui for the world he loved so dearl Why, what's the matter?" For the girl had suddenly risen ai gone away sobbing. George Verner stared after her. ly "I must be more careful,",he sai "But it was strange for her to take that way." So the girl and the invalid becar - . _ ? - i very good friends. SUe- was so wi 3( log, ?o gentle, so thoughtful, ib "I don't sue how I can ever pay yi for all this care," he told her one da a... "As long as you can read those st ries to me, ' the girl responded, [n won't worry you for any balance < :;t account. Troiible Is they ain't goi: i-l to last much longer." George Verner laughed: He cou \i* laugh now without coughing, le "There ai'e lots of other books,'!' it answered. <"1 have but to wave r x' magic pen and lo! they will appea ir Next week we will roll up our sleev s and tackle Dickens. You will li! ie Dickens, gentle Anna." s> She suddenly frowned, a "I don't like the name you ju " called me," she said. "I'm not ge d tie. I'm Just Anna." And she went away in the abru fashion with which he was beginnii le to be familiar. Is George Verner had been living n the open for four months and he w 3- none the worse for his experience. , fact he seemed a little improved* >f Then one day he was muc?,won d The change couldn't be explaine Jose was hurried to ios Angeles wi directions to rash back with a doctc The doctor came and looked at Geor; and slowly shook his head. "Speak, up," . whispered Georg "but not too loud. I have faced tt e thing so long that It has lost the per 7. er to scare me." * it "Then," said the doctor, "this loo! like the last call. Of course we car ir Questions. | y act, great or small; ask yourself 1 you will ?nd ip. your hands the M 1 give you entrance into Success yL Vhy should I do;jthis? . How shall 2T d this? Have a good reason for 3 ers of concentrated Wealth, Fate, W s, Hook-worms and Unkind Gods \ ining for yourself Permanent and ? access is only another name for X n? im flkilfiTwi IT>^fflT^rhi i. | tell. You may rally. I'll do whs >r ever science can suggest. But e, would be wise for you to set yo n house.in order." That afternoon* George Vern looked Up and asked Anna, who w i, sitting by the cot, to call her uncle, k So Anna brought him in and th a* sat by George's side, and for a m a' ment there was a little silence. I "Now, friends," said George, "I* ir got a little deal .to propose to yc H.LIU, Ul tuuisc, JUU arc &U1U& IV 1 I me have my way about it ? yi ie wouldn't think of opposing me no That's out of the question." I d paused and caught his breath. "Gi :h me my own time about this. I'll g q* somewhere presently. In the fit s place, I am George Verner, of Be 's ton?and nothing else to boast of. r- am quite alone in the world, save f - mv m r\+ r*** Tirhn l'e nnw corrvoo/Tioro | Ul/ iUVbUVil ) " UW Ah? UW U uv/iuv " uwt v d ' Italy, I fancy, with my new stepfat er I have some property?proper that my mother will never need. S is a wealthy woman and has marri a very wealthy man. There is quite '.ot of this property, all in good &iar :v The inventory is with, the letters ai !g ' other documents in the package yo der. You are to take charge of i those papers, Anna, wnen?wnsn is necessary. There is a letter the for my lawyer and another for r mother." n- "Don't," isaid Anna very softly, a: r0 turned away her head. 3e George reached out suddenly a: ss caught her hand. 5e "Stay here," he said. "I'm almc ie through, and I'll do the rest of i yt talking to Uncle Jim. Now, see hei Uncle Jim, I want to do a square de before I say quit. I've led a prel ze ' careless end selfish life, and it dc lg me good to think that I've got tl Is chance, Uncle Jim. I want to mar J Anna here. Listen. I want her a j have ail that's mine. I want to ma ill ! her comfortable for life, and give t I the power to make others about h a comfortable. To marry her will si j plify everything. She's been good d. me. Nobody ever was quite so ki U | and '.houghtful. And you see it's ji a mere form?but a necessary one.' j "No, no," murmured the girl. ep j "I'm going to leave the arrant I ments to you, Uncle Jim?only th , must be hurried. And now, Am b-1 girl, you won't oppose me, I'm su id You've humored me all through?y ce must humor me in this. Make it 3 I soon as possible?just as soon as pi j sible. And now let me rest." d. Uncle Jim arose slowly, but the gin I ?d suddenly slipped to her kn?es beside the cot and put the wasted fingers., to I to her lips, then drew away with a.sud- j in den sob. fit This time it was a clergyman that i sn Jose brought, and in the little tent he married the weeping girl to the sorely er stricken stranger. 3k "Just a sick man's whim, reverend id sir," George murmured with a brave is, smile, "and yet one of the worthiest ie. acts he has ever done. Your hand at and my thanks, good sir. > And; your 3d hand, Uncle Jim. And now yours, rt Anna."-^ v . He looked up in her face will* .a ge bright smile and thefi <he" heavy eye^ H- lids dropped and he fell asleep-~-h$S nd hand held fast-in ttej girl's. * v.'i un He was sleeping quietly the next Qe morning and did not a%aken until afi>b ternoon. ? v . ,y. "What!" he murmured, ' "Still here?".. : V id >nd he-lay there a longtime with hit eyes half closed. \ v "I believe I'm much fetter," he d. suddenly said. } f ' ? }' ' A #?/* MA 4-V rtii ?? /?> w A?\^ f n It .wliiu. xi uuu- mau uiumcut uc .wc^au bv i mend. . ae The doctor, being duly sent for, II- was amazed, but did what he could to conceal the fact 3U "Science doesn't recognize miray cles," he said, after he had examined [qI George very carefully, "but I'll admit this is a pretty close imitation of the ^ old fashioned brand. I'm ready to ag predict now that you are good for a bunch of years. ' You'll never be 1,3 strong, but with reasonable care .you should outlive many, stronger men." he So George Verner continued to Qy mepd, but not a word said he of that r, strange marriage. But one day he showed Uncle Jim a carefully prekg pared paper, " "That's a sett^ment for Anna;" he said. "It's half I've got." [g? The old man shook ?is head. n_ "She won't touch it," he said. So the weeka passed away, and ijeorge biowjj improvcu, uuu auua ag was still the helpful Anna of old, but no word vas uttered by either concerning that strange rite within the ln test. - And then one bright afternoon a surprising thing happened. A lady came down the trail from the high'?* way on the ridge, the sound of a mo!<y tor preceding her coming. She was quite a grand lady, and >r* carried herself with a stately air. ge George Verner looked up and recognized her and hurried forward. :e? "My son!" she cried and held him fast. "Why, you look almost yourself again, dear. Just think?I've come all the way across the continent to find . you. I left your stepfather in l#t New York?he's not at all well. Can you go back with me at once, George?" George drew back. "Wait, mother." He turned and looked toward the cabin. "Anna," he cried. Her voice answered him. "Yes, George." She came to him quickly, but stopped short at sight of the lady. "My mother, Anna. Mother, my wife." "Your wife!" "Listen, mother. Wait, Anna. Mother, there was a time, not very long ago, when I believed my moments were numbered. And then the desire to do a good act influenced me lt_ to ask Anna here to marry me?to marry your son, mother, who was no ur better than a dead man." Anna had been good to me in a way that nother ing could repay?and she could not as resist my last request. So we were married and I fell- asleep with her ey hand in mine, and when my feet 0_ splashed in .the dark waters she drew me back?and held me to the shore ve and defied the black shadow?and IU> that is why I am here to-day, mothet er." He paused a moment. "Anna au married me througn a misapprenenw sion, mother. I took what now seems *e an unwarranted advantage of her ve goodness. I am willing to make the et best amends I can.. But just now, >st mother, I cannot go with you without )S" Anna's consent. If she wants me, if she will bid me stay, I will know or .that all is well for me." in He paused again. The mother h" looked from the girl to her son. ty "This can be easily arranged, dear he son," she said. "Come. I am your e(* mother." ! a And then Anna looked up ? her )e- eyes blazing. ad "And I am your wife," she cried n* and flung her loving arms about George and held him fast and would not let him go. re George looked at his mother with a Qy sudden smile. "Anna wins," he said, nd WORDS OP WISDOM, ad No poetry was ever written in a )St dental parlor. ny re Some people would rather join the crowd than go to heaven. ;ty All cats remind us of most women; ,es they think they can sing. lis No, Alonzo, beads of sweat are not ry classed as ornaments. to Fear of consequences keeps a lot of ke men in the- straight aud narrow path. iei Gossip Is due to the fact that the ier world contains more talkers than m~ thinkers. to ?. * f The sick man who is able to swear nci lsJ. at"his doctor isn't likely to give the undertaker a job rignt away. Even if a woman does f:iil to enjoy vC_ an outing she always tries to make ey those who remained at home believe ia> she did. re. Of course, you know just what you ou would do in another man's place, but as why don't you do the right thing in as- your own place'.'?From "Pointed Paragraphs," in the Chicago News. ^ s - 1 " t t : r H i jwhsesm ^dEfl Sb, x " t! - ^nawMflnft \;. THEODORE H Oat of HIb Hunter's Garb and I The Self-Smoking Pipe. After filling a decanter about twofhirds full of Vater close it by means pf a cork provided with two apertures. Through one of these pass a short pipe stem, affix a cork provided with two apertures. The apertures may be easily formed by means of a ?/> Self-Smoking Pipe. red-hot poker. The latter aperture serves to fix the pipe. Finally, with the other cork and a bent tube form a siphon. After the latter has been primed and is once in operation it rtrlll Ir>fv flin r?rtrtor*for onrl "lii (.cuu kU cuiyt/ luo ucvauioi, UUV* the vacuum formed will be immediately filled by the external air flowing in through the pipe. It is .then only necessary to light the latter in order to see it "smoke itself" tranquilly as long as any water remains in the decanter. This experiment is very interesting and may easily be performed.?Scientific American. The Power Behind the Stage. King Edward, it is reported, desired a London player whose makeup in a current drama was thought offensively to suggest one of his ma-' jesty's close friends to change the outward aspect of his characterization. The actor declined on the score that a change would endanger the success of the play. Here was a conflict which must have suggested to the king the limited prerogative of royalty these days. In other times it would have been "Off with his ' head!"?New York Dramatic Mirror. ^ Siberia. Siberia is one of the largest and most nroductive agricultural regions on the face of the globe, the greater part of the land being fertile and 1 capable of yielding abundant crops ( and of sustaining large flocks and herds. Then, too, the mineral resources have hardly been touched.? Ohio State Journal. ' PASSING OF A Fi THE LATE DAVID Associate Justice of the Suprenii / "1 D BOUND. lOOSEVELT. n Citizen's Togs Once More. A Brief Surprise. , Former Senator William E. Mason, of Illinois, speaking before a Chicago fraternal organization recently, told a story illustrative of the contempt with which new members of tin United States Senate are regarded bj the veterans of the "Millionaires' Club." Shortly after his arrival in Athg ii-? i.' J capuai xvir. iviasou euuuumciuu low Senator, with. whom he was slightly acquainted, and was greeted with: * \ "Weren't you surprised, Mason, when you found you were elected Senator?" , "I was," came the ready response, "until I came to Washington and saw what dubs I had for associates."? Spare Moments. A Champion of the British Budget, Miss Violet Asqulth, daughter of I the English Prime Minister, took sqjH prominent a part In the political cam palgn that her speeches form a decld- H sdly strong feature of the Liberal H propaganda. jH A Close Corporation, BP "I want to get a line on that fial- B ow. Whom does he care for prln-B llpally?" B "Himself." H "But has he no companion?*' 9 "Oh, yes; his umbrella."?Louis* H Irille Courier-Journal. gfl A.MOUS JURIST. B > J. BREWER. 3 Court of the United States.