The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, September 21, 1910, Image 3
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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
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Zi He akin, '^l?
t\o
\e lYishiny lllny,*' Elc.
7 COMPAQ A'l rlghl* rrgcrrc^^j?
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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