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CHQIOIOIOIOIOlOIOIOtCIOIOI o ? 21 T* If Road to Grot - * - ?? ? o ?! Z2y Dove die Oi* ~\% Author of' C.cvrjic," "T1 Hj ?j*\ r.ipt/r.Vtfi. j"3, hy J. J?. jAPPIXC'T of ? _J1M ? <><>_-?< *< *?O><s *<> -ft-fr-fr * c j cTo rb'ioTb'icTioToTo i0ioToY; CHAPTER VII. I) < Continued. "And you think Michael loves her v?enough?" she repeated. "Enough to run off with her in this gloriously medieval way? You think he will brave the world's opinion, suffer all his friends to call him a fortur.ehunter, er.dure the sneers of everybody. for Audrey's sake?" *Oh. I'm sure he'll do that!" "And what about money? Michael V? o c navf tr\ -n r? ? V. i n ?-r von en r? '' Torrcentilla laughed joyously. "That's where I come in!" she cried. "I'm going to help them there. T can lay my hands on a hundred pounds at any time, you see, o.uite easily, and they'll go off and have a delightful honeymoon, and then come home, fall on their knees at Dr. Cogwheel's feet?not literally, of course, but you see the idea?and confess all. They'll ns'.c for his blessing, and he'll be so g!a;l to see Audrey back safe and sound, that all will be forgiven." Lise smiled. "It's very good of you to give them the money," she said. "Oh!" Tormentilla cried lightly, "I cin aliravc! Inv mv har.^s fin a. htm dred pounds." "Honestly, I hope." Lise came up to her, still laughin^a little, and she bent the softened gaze of her black eyes on the girl's glowing face, and tucked two splendid Duke of Edinburgh roses into her blue tunic. "My dear," she said with a kind little kiss, "you've won me over to , your scheme, heart and soul. If it's only to please you, I'll lend a helping hand. I think?I'm almost sure that I have it in my power to help you in the most important way." "And what way's that?" Tormentilla asked, with frank curiosity. Lise shook her head, so, much 1 cheered. Tormentilla went home, but before she got in something happened to damp her spirits considerably, even to infuriate her. Now, there is a wooden stile leading frora the plantation into Cherry Gully, and. sitting on the lower step of the stile, her face hidden in her apron, she found poor Minnie once more, plunged evidently into an even deeper depth of gloomy despair. "What on earth is it now?" she fisked in a tone of quiet exasperation, : for indeed she thought she had settled this business satisfactorily for once and all. "It's 'im," said Minnie hysterically. "Him?" "Yes?the minister, miss. He wishes me to he transferred to . Greenrose. Them was his very words to Mrs. Gramper. He objects to me and William walking out. He says we're too young, and ought to turn our minds to other things for years before we think of such nonsense. I only want William. I don't want no other things. He passed a lot of remarks,to Mrs. Gramper, and upset her dreadful. Why can't he let us alone?" 1 "Upon my word," Tormentilla cried wrathfully, "this is too much! Minnie, don't be a little duffer. You can't get the moon by sitting down and howling for it. I never saw such a girl to cry in my life. Cheer up, and don't worry about Mr. Brornsgrove. I'll deal with him." Eut Minnie shook her head sorrowfully. "He's a very determined gentleman." she said, "ar.d he says he takes a fatherly interest in William and me. I'm sure I don't want no father but my own, and as ofcen as not he's been more'n mother and me could i manage. I don't doubt as it's all for our good. But?but?I can't get along without 'im nohow, and he can't get along without me. And we car.'t help it, can we, miss, if we are so young? I'm nineteen past. Mother was married when she was seventeen. Why can't he let us alone?" "He shall let you alone," said Tor mentilla grimly. S Behind the Cogwheels' garden a long apple orchard lay. and behind me app'0 orcnaru a little wesfly iar.e \ which led only to a field of meadow j grass still lying uncut. One afternoon the same week Au- j drey put on a hat?a simple garden hat only, made like a Victorian bon- i ret. with pale pink roses under the brim and chiffon strings?and slipped across tne orchard to keep an ap- < pointment with her own true love, Michael Kenworthy. To do hsr justice, it was the first for a long time, and, as usual?or, rather, as had frequently happened?he kept her : waiting. When he did come it was with a gloomy mien and laggard step. Au I drey was leaning against the stile, j holding her bonnet-strings with either hand, like a village maid waiting for her shepherd boy, and the face she help up for his kiss was so young and fresh and lovely that his heavy heart warmed, in spite of itself. She took one or two o" the flowers from her sash?they were a present from Nigel Standring?and put thcra in his coat with a smile. ' Thanks awfully," he said.; f'They're very pretty. What d' you call them?" : "Oh, Michael! Have you forgotten already?" | He laughed uneasily, evidently trying to r^cl: his brains for the memtry which had certainly escaped him. J "Don't you remember," the girl paid softly, touching the sweet fluffy reads temlerly with a little pink fi:iter, '"that sweet sultan is your favorite flower? Why should I wear them Indeed?why should I wear any fiowIrs when I'm so unhappy, except that t reminds me of you?" P.',.<2.'.Q.'.PJL9J OOipip'O'9'Q'Q sa?p E j|g etna Green |]i *\o Zi He akin, '^l? t\o \e lYishiny lllny,*' Elc. 7 COMPAQ A'l rlghl* rrgcrrc^^j? <> j? JTOTO i 0T0 10T0T0T01 o 10 ioi o "Does it really?" He looked pleased. "I'd forgotten that I raid that. Are these sweet sultan? I though somehow that roses, red roses, had always been my favorites. They're so different, aren't they?? so far above all other flowers. A deep red rose in full bloom is like? it's?oh, it's life and love and happiness and June and youth and?oh, everything worth having, don't you think?" "Oh, yes!" Audrey's eyes were starry indeed as she raised them to his. "And it's so ridiculous to say that they are crude, isn't it? How wonderfully you put It! But then, ro one ever understands or puts things as you do." The darkening load of care on Michael's young brow seemed to lift a little, but he steeled himself and a half-formed resolve in his soul spurred him on. "Audrey dear." he said, "I asked you to meet me to-day because I wanted to speak to you seriously. I want to say something which may sound even brutal to you. but you are so yours?so young and ignorant of the world, and I am a man, with a man's knowledge, and I've come to the conclusion that it's my duty to speak frankly to you." How could he go on when he met that blue alarmed gaze? "I've been a selfish brute," said he, looking away from it. "I've been behaving like a mean hound, because I loved you." "Loved me? Ob, Michael!" "Escause I love you," he amended hastily, after a quick side-glance. "But I've come to my senses at last, thank God!" "Oh. Michael," she cried in distress, "I'm so sorry." "No," said he sadly; "don't be snrrv We've had our dream, dear. and we must wake up." "Oil, Michael! But why?" Ke looked with a hunted glance up the green lane. "Eecause I am ruining your life," said he. "And it isn't fair. You ought to marry a rich man. You will never be allowed to marry me. Your father will never give his darling to the black sheep, the ne'er-doweel, the rolling stone, the vagabond." He lingered over his speech as if he loved it. He dwelt upon these epithets as if he gloried in them. "Oh!" Audrey cried. "He never called you any of those dreadful things. He never once called you anything worse than ineligible. And mother?the expression mother always uses is 'uDfortunate.' 'An unfortunate youth,' she says you are. How can you be so unjust to them, so cruel to me?" "Tbev are right," said Michael cheerfully. "And I deserve it. I deo-nr! m orn Tint T hflVA still some principles left. I have still some glimmering notions of right and wrong, and the time has come for me to prove it." "Oh, Michael! What terrible things you do say! You never, never said any cf these dreadful things afcout yourseif to me before. How you have changed!" "I must rive you up, Audrey." "Oh!" She looked very much puzzled. "But you did that long ago. And so did I. We were obliged to. weren't we? And we were obliged for the sake of others to meet as friends before the world. We decided that, tco, years a so.' There's nothing new in that, is there, dear?" Michael shook his head firmly. "We must g-> through with the thing thoroughly to the bitter end," said he. "Wo must meet no more. You must try to forget ine." "Oh, MichPd! "When you know you wouldn't like it if I did!" "Like it?" said Michael hastily. "Does the criminal like the hangman's r.C03S? Doe"5 the ox like the butcher's knife? TJut I must do it, dear, and you must help roe. You must learn to turn a laughing face to the world, and some day, years hence, you will marry some sensible, prosperous, plodding person and he calmly contented?if not happy." "Oh, Michael, what an unspeakably unattractive idea!" Audrey cried, with much real distress in her voice. "And what a pity to spoil everything when it's all so settled and comfortable!" "Comfortable? You find it comfortable, Audrey?this racking misery of indecision, this hopeless, fretting susjense? This?" "Oh. not comfortable, of course," she amended hurriedly. "But resigned, Michael?surely we are both more resigned?" He turned with a start and eyed her curiously, but she met his gray eyes with her innocent, serious gaze and disarmed him. "You mustn't give me up," she said wistfully. "I want to know that you are near me; tc feel sure of your love for ever and ever and ever. Don't you?" Michael in despair turned away again. ' ''Everythin:: is so peaceful," she said softly. "We are friends, dear, as well as lovers, and you arc mine. If I want you. you are there. It is? it is the greatest joy and comfort to me sometimes to feel that I have you to turn to, whatever happens. And when I think of your great love, how you have never for an instant swerved in your allegiance since the day we met?it helps me to bear my hidden sorrow almost bravely." She shot a quick lock at him as she said this, and he.?sharply turning again to look at her, met it with a faintly heightened color. "You think too highly of mo," he murmured. "Oh, no! I couldn't do that. And even if we are separated so cruelly, we still in our hearts cling to each other, don't we?" Audrey pursued earnestly. "I suppose so," said he with a sigh. "We can't help being constant. It's our misfortune, not our fault, that wc love like this. Constancy isn't a virtue, Michael; it's only a folly It's not human nature to be constant, you see, but we are different, you and I, ar.d we must just dree our weird. You aren't like other men. dear." Michael was silent. As if he didn't know that! "And I'm afraid," she faltered, with a catch in her breath, "that I am not o.uite like other girls." "No"?Michael spoke with convic* tion. "You certainly aren't." CHAPTER VIII. Tormentilla, who was gradually gathering the fates of these laves into the hollow of her capable brown hands, felt that it was a great tiling to be so sure of Lise, and a great surprise to find 1 hat she had changed so quickly. She had seamed so indifferent before, perhaps a iittle amused, and at certain distressing and disconcerting moments almost jeering. But there was something in her manner, now that she had at las' surrendered, which brought conviction and confidence. "There's something almost alluring," Tormentilla told herself, "in the way she suddenly becomes nice. iier e.vcs jjuu exj suu a.iu mciuubi and she puts her funny little head on one side and looks at you so sweetly and kindly, that you feel you would do anything in the world for her. And yet good, too. Why does everybody say such horrid things about her? They say she leads her husband a dog's life. I'm sure he looks calm and contented enough." She was walking along towards Malinder, her hat pushed back because of the heat, and suddenly she heard behind her tho sharp hoot of a motor. And common as they were in that road, used to them as she had been for years, they had played such a big part in last summer's tragedy that even now the warning note struck hard at her silly heart. Last year it had always meant, in quiet, sleepy Gree::rose, that her lover had rushed over from London to see her. Now? "Sandy!** The scarlet motor drew up besida her, and he jumped out. She had a better control of herself this time. "You are simply wicked to come again," she said, trying to hide tho shining welcome in her eyes. He laughed ruefully as he tore hi3 thick glove of?. "I was afraid you'd forget me," he said, "and that's the truth. You said before that ycu were nearly for* getting me, and I couldn't stand it. The thought was hateful to me. I had to come over. Sandy?can't I come and see you sometimes if I treat you like a brother?" She laughed reluctantly, but he? beating heart warned her. "I won't torment you. Eut I want to know what you're doing. I want to know how you pass your daya here In the wilds. I told Dolly I was coming to see how you wer? getting on, and she didn't mind a bit." "What did she say?" Tormentilla asked curiously. i He looked thoughtful. "Oh. she laughed and said, 'Don't spoil the child and make her ill with chocolates.'. I had to bring some token of brotherly a-fection after that, hadn't I?" He dived into the car and brought out a huge brown packet. Tormentilla's eyes lit up. All the joys o* last rummer seemed to be coming back to her, and yet? n isn i rigui, sue smu siuwiy. "It's all wrong. We don't want to be brothers to each other." "I want to be friends with you," he insisted, with a little laugh. "Come for a run with me, Sandy, for the sake of did times. I'll behave irreproachably. I am afraid you are consoling yourself. Who was it you were talking to when I found you? I must know exactly what you are doing with yourself all the time." Tormentilla hesitated. Her conscience warned her fiercely. To be Continued. Snakes in Eaihvny Carriages. The railway station of Eragulia (Servia) is so infested with snakes that special precautions are taken when trains stop there to prevent the reptiles from entering the compartments. An Englishwoman coming from Constantinople was appalled to find a small snake coiled round the handle of her traveling bag. The consequent search resulted in the discovery of several other snakes among the passengers' rugs.?London livening Standard. Reflections of n Bachelor. A really brave man is afraid to act so. Friendship best endures by not undergoing any tests of it. If the baby would sleep all night the house would catch on fire or something to keep you awafce. The trouble with making love to your wife is it gets you into the habit of doing it when she's not around. There's nothing makes a man admire a costly gown on a woman as much as if he didn't have to pay for it.?Xew York Press. Crime Increasing. Whereas in 1850 there was only one convict to every 5400 of population in the United States, in 1S90 there was actually one prisoner to every 750 inhabitants. During the last thirty years we are told that our criminal population i:<is muiKiiseu, relatively to population, by one-third. ?Bench and Ear. In New York State, during last season, 11,967 acres of forest lands burned and the loss was only $25,101, fis against 177,000 acres burned in 190S and a loss of $044,000. Young Lone Wolf, a Kiowa Indian chief, is a Baptist minister. He is a Carlisle graduate and roads his Greek Testament every morning. .... . rinew ; Of' How Lincoln V # Harry Vanderbllt Obtained Nearly (300,000 to Pay for ithe Campaign by Personal Appeals to Wealthy Men In the East. As a remarkable ir.stance of how rt is possible for a man to accomplish a work regarded at the time as of supreme importance aid still remain in comparative obscurity, the case of Harry Vanderbilt, a nephew of Commodore Vanderbilt, who died recently in New York city at a green old age after making a fortune for himself as a manufacturer, is or especial Interest For tils Vanderbilt, on the authority of his life-long friend, B. J. .Jayne, who earned a name and a fortune for himself in the seventies by uncovering a nest of great customs frauds, should be accredited with the honor of havlEg made It possible for Abraham Lincoln to securo his re-election to the presidency in 18(14. "For some years prior to the outbreak of the Civil war," said Mr. Jayne, who is now iilmost eighty years of age, "Harry Vanderbilt held a responsible position In the Portsmouth (New Hampshire) navy yard; but when Salmon P. Chase became Lincoln's first secretary of the treasary, Mr. Vanderbilt went to that department as appointment clerk, remaining there for mora than ten years, or until the middle of Grant's administration. It was during Lincoln's first administration that Mr. Vanderbilt's ability as i trosted political worker was dl? covered and proved on several occasions by the party chiefs. MIt la well known that, following Lincoln's renomlnatlon, the party leaders In charge of the campaign greatly feared that Mr. Lincoln would fall of re-election on account of the Inability of the national committee to obtain funds sufficient to carry or a thorough and aggressive campaign. It was at a very anxious period of the war. The drain on the resources of the nation had boon exhausting and no Immediate relief was in sight. Taxation had reached what appeared to bo the limit of safety aud all demands for money for political purposes were met by sullenness or absolute refusal. The national committee seemed to be powerless to find a way out of the uncompromising situation. Its chairman, Henry J. Raymond, the distinguished newspaper editor, was not an adept in the art of raising campaign funds, and he had a profound distaste for ordinary political methods of getting money for campaign purposes. Tweed3s Metric * iitnefntarf hu imnulslva Manner In I Which the "Boss" 3ought Soma Property He Wanted to Add to Country Estate. . When William M. Tweed, who Is noorlous in the history of American graft a:i "Boss" Tweed, was at the height ol his power In New York city?when, In other words, the metropolis of tfte New World practically ate out of his hand?ho lived the greater part of the year not In the city that he and his ring were robbing right and left, but in the town of Greenwich. Conn. There Tweed bought a farm In 1865. It Is now the country home of Mrs. A. A. Anderson, who Is well known throughout the country au a woman of great philanthropy. In the farm as It was when Tweed bought It there wero forty acres, and upon the place Tweod began at once to spend a large amount of money. The barn wtlch he built cost |40,000, a large sum for such a building in those days, and it gaintid national notoriety. About flvo yeare later Tweed decided that he would Hire to secure an adjoining piece of property and add It to his country home. This was a tract of twenty acres owned by the late Frederick MejwJ, who in his time was a prominent merchant and hanker in New York city. Tweed was very anxious to obtain possession of Mr. Mead's acres because he felt that they would round out and complete his own place:. Whatever else may be said to Tweed's dishonor, this must be said in his fa,vcr?he was a man of a good deal of artistic taste and had a keen eye for natural beauty. "What will you sell that twenty-acro tract for?" Tweed said to Mr. Mead ono day. Did They "Hock" Them? *<ln the olden days they bad no watches, you know," said the father. "And How am mey tea lae inner' asked the son. "By sun dials." "Well, father," said the young man, feeling of his watchless chain, "how much could a fellow get on a sun dial, do you suppose?"?Yonkers Statesman. It Was Excusable. "That druggist acted grouchy when you interrupted his compounding to buy a stamp." "What of it?" "A business man should always smile." "Oh, I don't know. You can't expect a man to be a hypocrite for the e&ke of a two-cent sale." The Summer Girl. "How'd you like to bo engaged to a millionaire ?" "I was engaged to one all last summer, and he seldom spent a dime. I want to be engaged to a young man who is down here for two weeks with about 5300 in bis roil." .. . .Jjy 15* t/. Vas Re-elected ????? ? c. Gov. E. D. Morgan of New York, his v predecessor in the national chairman- Sl ship, had collected upward of a hun- ^ dred thousand dollars to conduct Lincoln's first campaign, but it was es- p timated by the party leaders that con- ? siderably more than double that sum would be required to re-elect their can- j? didates. To whom should be allotted ' the herculean task of obtaining :":is ? immense sum? "It was at this trying moment that the name of Harry Vanderbilt was ^ suggested as that of a man who knew many prominent men in the money centers. Who put forward his name ? T7ftr? ft nAWAK A/? Kllf -ttUUCi U1IL UCGl t] mediately thereafter he was asked to ^ undertake the raising of the campaign fund, and, with characteristic mod- Q esty, he replied that he would do his ^ best to get together the badly needed ^ funds. p "Quietly, and with his mission y known to only a few, Mr. Vanderhilt 0 began the task of trying to raise at \ least two hundred thousand dollars, 0 and as much as three hundred thou- ^ sand dollars if possible. The first city p that he visited, as I now remember it, t] was Boston. There he made personal Lecture Beecher Newspaper Accounts of the Sullivan- * Ryan Prize Fight Caused the ? Preacher to Be Late for En- ^ gagement at Divinity School. j 4 tl The well nigh universal Interest that was being taken In a certain event a scheduled to take place In San Frana?\ tmiw a vno haiwfl/? tn rotnln^ , UOViU UU U U4/ -X U^O TVU W ?WMI. - jy me of the lecture that great and pow- t] erful preacher, Henry Ward Beecher, g forgot all about My authority for the anecdote, which reveals one side of ^ the abundant human nature which f was so characteristic of Mr. Beecher, ^ is the late Prof. Johnson T. Piatt of ^ the Yale Law school. h "Mr. Beecher was always a favorite ^ lecturer at Yale, before the divinity E school," said Professor Piatt. "You a may recall that be delivered several ^ series of lectures on the Lyman j, Beecher foundation, named after his n father, and at other times he also lec- ^ tured before the school. a "Well, on the afternoon of the particular Beecher lecture I have in mind j, the hall was packed to the doors with ^ students and others eager to hear g him. The hour set for the beginning of the lecture was three o'clock, but v when it arrived there appeared no j, tds in Business \ a "I don't think 1 want to sell it at ^ -11 ? CUI, WttO LUC J "Well," said Tweed, "think it over, h and If you can decide upon a price let p me know." s Several weeks later Tweed, meeting j Mr. Mead at the Greenwich railroad ^ station as they both were on their way a to New York city, pressed the latter j tci put a price upon his twenty acres. g Tweed, in fact, was insistent that Mr. ^ Mead should do so, but the merchant ^ a? steadily insisted that his place was not for sale. t "But you will sell if you can get p your price, won't you?" Tweed finally asked. "You will certainly sell the j, property for a Tweed price?" s "What do you mean by a Tweed o price?" asked Mr. Mead. r "Why," was the reply, "a price that c Tweed will be willing to pay." 1] Mr. Mead laughed. "Well, I would b sell that twenty-acre lot for $55,000," r he said, still laughing. "That is $2,750 t an acre. You would not be willing to y pay that for it?" . Ino^Qn^lTr Trrn/^ fn So cfi_ n IUIJLQJUi/ A nuu kuiutu ku Uic oia* V tlon agent. "Look here," he said, "lend t me pen and ink, will you?" At the u same time he pulled out a check book, d opened it, seized the proffered ink and c pen, wrote out a check for $55,000 on u the little shelf before the ticket agent's d window and handed it to the aston- b ished and nonplussed Mr. Mead. "Now that I have paid you, Mr. Mead," he p said, "you can send me the warranty E deed at your convenience." ^ A high value upon the property at v that time would have been $500 an J, acre. Today a high value upon it v would probably be a thousand dollars e an acr->, almost two-thirds less an acre than Tweed paid in the heyday of his notoriety. (Cop:,Tight. 1910, by E. J. Edwards.) w Building a Q it-? Job Is a Whole Lot of Trouble and h Causes Many Near-Swear Words. h tl The man threw down the hammer. "Dneimnfi tho dine-blsstod. done- si swadded thing!" he remarked. P At the same time he carefully 11 wrapped the lingers of his hand about b his thumb, from which sparks and '? streaks of light were radiating. All do.y long he had tried to build a ^ chicken house. The thumb was but an incident, and the day had been n filled with just such incidents. In fact, after he had hit the thumb ^ Qrsit It asserted its presence bo furl- ^ ousily tliat he couldn't miss It if he tried. It was a glowing target for the hammer. Finding that he was not killed the man resjmed operations. It is lots of trouble to build a chicken bouse 5 tc feet long and 4 feet wido and 6 feet high?almost as much troublo as a buttdlng a real cottage. H I, m/^r JEcfuiare&s* ppeala to men of wealth who were f the Republican party, and at last ecured from them, either In actual , ash or pledges, |8,000. Next he canassed Philadelphia, where he also ecured a large sum, then New York nd several other cities. In none was is mission known to or even susected by any one on whom he did ot call; and in this manner he at ist got together a fund that totaled lose on to three hundred thousand ollara, to the great delight and relief f the national committee. Then, aving been assured b7 those In the Beret that he had performed a great ervice in behalf of the Union, Mr. anderbilt went back to his duties as ppointment clerk in the treasury deartment Just how Mr. Vanderbilt induced le men he visited to contribute to ifi pamnaiBTi fund, no one ever knew xactly," added Mr. Jayne. "All any ne ever learned from him was that e made personal appeals. He never oasted about the Important part ho layed. In making possible the re-eledlon of Abraham Lincoln. I am one f the very few men with whom Harry ' 'anderbilt ever talked about this feat f his; and I am certain that I am ' lie only one now living who knows ersonally that It was he who raised * tie Lincoln campaign fund of 1864." (Copyright, 1310, by E. J. Edwards.) ' Forgot About ?i i lenry Ward Beecher, to the mild ^ urprise of the professors In charge, 3r hitherto Mr. Beecher had never een tardy in appearing in the halL lut when it got to be nearly half after bree and still no Beecher, the surrise and consternation were great, nd, after a hasty consultation, a projssor was sent to the hotel where Ir. Beecher usually stopped, to get race of the missing lecturer, If posrble. "Yes, Mr. Beecher was stopping at , lie hotel, the clerk informed the pro- ( essor, wno mereupon nasienea w Ir. Beecher*s room, knocked upon the oor and was told to come in, which 0 did at once. But before he could , rame even a "how do you do" Mr. leecher, spying him, let out an stonished 'I declare!' followed it u| y hastily pulling out his watch and joking at it, and exclaiming in dlslay, 'Why, it's going to four, and you ave been waiting for me all this time t the divinity school.' I "Ho grabbed for his hat Then, as > e was reaching for his overcoat, he : irned on the professor with a quaint mile. " 'Oh, well,' he said, 1 might as rell make a full confession. When I 5ft my home in Brooklyn this morn3g I bought copies of two or three ooming newspapers. There was omething in them that interested me xeatly, and I intended to read all bout it on my way to this city. But iter I got seated in the train a friend ame along, I shared my seat with ilm, and he talked to me all the way iere, so that I did not have an oplortunity to read my papers. But as oon as I got to the hotel I saw that would have an hour of leisure before he lecture began, so I slipped up here nd began reading?and, do you know, found the reports of the event so raphic that I actually forgot all about he lecture. It's in the Anglo-Saxon ilood to be Interested in such an ivent, doctor?I was reading about he Sullivan-Ryan flgbt which toot ilace yesterday down in Mississippi.' , "For a moment or two Mr. Beechei DOked the professor of divinity < quarely in the eye. Then he reached ver and dug that gentleman in the ibs. 'And now that I have made m? onfession,' he said, laughing. 'I'm goag to say something to you. I would ie willing to wager that you yoursell 1 ead the report of that battle with i iare knuckles this morning before ou went to the divinity school.' " 'Well, Mr. Beecher,' replied the irc-Jessor, *1 might as well confesn, i oo, I did get up a little earlier than sual this morning and go to the front oor for the morning paper. It hadn't ome, so I actually waited at tho dooi ntil the boy brought it Then I sat own and read the report of the flghl efore breakfast.' ] "Mr. Beecher beamed on his com anion in wickedness. 'Come,' he aid, and linked arms -with the other. Lnd that shameless professor after ' ?ards told me that the lecture which 1 Ir. Beecher delivered a little latex 1 ras tne Desi ne ever neard tbat giftd orator make on any platform." ( (Copyright, 1910, by E. J. Edwards.) 1 Luck Is something we blame when : re fall and deny when we succeed. i hicken Home ! Then the man dropped the plank h? ^ ad picked up. "Ugh!" ho said. Then he examined i is hand for the splinter he knew was 1 iere. ? Then the man grew weary of this t ort of thing. He laid plank u>oe t lank, regardless of angles, and ham- i lered and sawed industriously. The ent nall3 he left In and tho roc he t tid on the bias. f Then he stepped back and regarded t is work. s "Well, you're done," he said; "you ? lay not be pretty, and you may leafc t be a strainer, but I don't give a hang, t ou"re done." ? Galveston (Tex.) <: ews. f Giving Him a Tip. '1 wish to speak with your mother." 1 "Yes?" v "Yes. I have a proposition I wish c ? placo before her." "Better place It before me. Ma'a ? widow and might snap you up."? 1 ouston Post C1L ON TROUBLED WATERS. ^ The Jo?er?What do you think of j P&Atem's painting of the ocean? Jte Artist?I thought the water ' ed too calm. The Joker?I guess It's the oil oa $ It that does that Sidney jARVts, * 4 Singer and Actor, Vahies Doan'a Kid* ney Pills. Mr. Jarvls, who Is one of Amerloa'a leading baritones, played tins part ofi the "Old-Grad" In the Fair Co-Ed t Company with Elsla Janis. He wrlte& "For a long time <1 was troubled with -"J backache. I c&a- . suited some of tha most prominent physicians with unsatisfactory results. I was adylsed to try Doan'a Kidney Pills, and felt benefited soon after begin* ding to take them. Continued ue? dured me completely. I cheerfully recommend them to any one suffering with kidney trouble." Remember<the name?Doan's. For ale by all dealers. 60 cents a box. ^oster-Milburn Co., Buffalo, N. Y. The discovery that ba has Invested th a salted mine Is apt to make a man peppery. For COLDS and GRIP .- ? Hicks' CAPTOIXB Is the best remedy? retleres the aching andfeverishness?core* th* Cold and restores normal conditions. It*a Liquid?effects lmmediatly. 10c., tSc.( and 60c. It drug stores. i'3 The Witching Hour. Claire?Jack told me he wanted to see you the worst possible way. Ethyl?And what did you say? Claire?I told him to come to break* fast some morning. While In 8oak. Howell?I see that the paper say* that the treasury department an- , $ ounces that by washing paper money It will last twice as long. ]iM 'aundry? ' ' : W English as She-Is Spoke. Chinatown Visitor?John, sabee, see screen?how much sabee w?ut for him? The Chinaman?What's the matter with you? Can't you speak English?? Judge. ? Little, but, Oh, Myl Senator Smoot of Utah tells a story on the late E. H. Harrlman, which Bounds somewhat familiar. He Bays that when the Salt Lake cut-<- ?aa ' completed Mr. Harrlman took a large party of big railroad men out to it They had their pictures taken at the right spot scenically. Mr. Harrlman stood at one end of the fcroup. When the pictures were printed and' the photographer brought them around the railroad men examined them. "Why," shouted one of the guests, "where's Mr. Harrlman?" "Do you mean that little chap that stood at the end?" asked the photographer. "Why, I cut him off." LACK OF MONEY Was a Godsend in This Case. It is not always that a lack ol money is a benefit A lady of Green Forest Ark., owes her health to the fact that she could not pay in advance the fee demanded by a specialist to treat her foi stomach trouble. In telling of her case she says: "I had been treated by four different puysiclans during 10 years of stomach trouble. Lately I called on another who told me he could not cure mfl? that I had neuralgia of the stom ich. Then I went to a specialist who :old me I had catarrh of the stomach ind said he could cure me in four Honths but would have to have hla noney down. I could not raise the lecessary sum and in my extremity I ras led to quit coffee and try Postum. "So I stopped coffee and gave Poatim a thorough trial and the results lave been magical. I now sleep well Lt night, something I had not done or a long time; the pain in my stomich is gone and I am a different voman. 'T dreaded to quit corfee, because (very time I had tried to stop it I sufw-* on A a pV1 nn en T rnTt. Ci CU liUUi OV. > V. U ? inued to drink it although I had reaicn to believe it was injurious to ma, ind was tho cause of my stomach rouble and extreme nervousness. Bat rhen I had Postum to shift to it wa* lifferent ''To my surprise I did not miss cofeo when I began to drink Postum. "Coffee had been steadily and surey killing me and I didn't fully realize rbat was doing it until I quit and hanged to Postum." F.vcr rend the above letferf A new me nppe.irn from "time to tim?. Tber ire genuine, true, and fall of htuaaa Dteruk I 1