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- AN AVERAGF. MAN* A ealistic story Vitbout, any gush or rdory -With no sentimental 1i1zeligh3 ' And no firowork display. - Bout a poor old iguorani'us Who was never rich nor fanon!, , And -who couldn't. iguite the rlNr' And who worked out by the dA, A ,erv common feller Was this Ebenezer Weller. *-Nith the usual shIare of virtue; And with vices tvwo or t bree; E'd no fatal gift of beauty. but an averago sense of 6i'v. SNteither very good nor e% ii . Just about like you and mie. Ard he -wed an averAg woman, Very nice and vt ry buinan. Just about lile Evenezer. .Neither very g. od nor bad; Oft in barmonNy thev'd warble. Often they would scold and squabble, but they loved each other dearly. And they couldn't continue usad Kever had enongh on Monday To supply the bouse till buIday Never made enough in April To 2upport t bemiselves in May ; If they worked hard in Novenler. They uust work hard in Deceuibr. And the enarse breaRd of to-morrow Was the hard work of to-day. They worked on. grow gray and grayer, Ter. they never =ade him mayor. And she plucked no social honors. And his wages Ltil were siall; Then thu :oad of years grew weighity And th-v died when tboy were eighlty. And they put theni in the graveya1rd. And they left them there. Tha's all. A realistic story. Witbout any gunh or glory, Yet this fellow Fbeeuzer Represents the human elan; His the Lverge share of pleauro, iis he average inck of leisure. liS tie average joy and sorrow Of tho counu average inaLl. I ATE1R PURISSIMA BELLS Captain Simon MaMtthewSdidl somle imes (ill't!e the Bihlie. but always inl slighting, Cil l ial phrase and nlerely to su1it his private purposes. For instance, "that, there apple ,u iness" was thrown at Josefa, li vranddaughter, as an unanswerable leZaSonI Why she shoill not be given the liberty of his orl hard. To irrigate, to spray, to annoint, to Aumigate his few trees was the anx ious delight o. his life, lie aceounlted or his enthusiasm over soIle 1lin1 persimminons ill words that m1 iht asily have had a human applicat ion. "ive watched that there fruit." e'd say, "pickini' its way along from a bud." Josefa, too, or "Chepa," as she was icknamed, had been -picking ier way aloig" unl(er his eves. She had pretty, caressing tricks, vould lay her soft, round cheek down upon her grandfather's arm. lut :hildren do not choose coinvenient .imes. Old Matthews' attention was absorbed by a thousand trilles. If le was busy, the arm Chepa pressed remained as irresponsive as a bone under its flapping gingham sleeve. Chepa had a feeling that hergrands ather locked her out of his heart with the same key clicking sharply inl the padlock of his orchard gate. Indoors there was always her Aunt ?orfirlo, a representative of the Mexi an element of Pueblo Viejo, where Matthews had been settlcd these hirty years. The senora secretly called the Cr.p ain "that robber." Ihad he not been eady to snap up) a bit of property henever her improvident counltry nen were forced to sell? With a man's dullness the Captain ad never discovered this domestic nemy, or how Chepa's life was enm. itteredl by her. She hated Chepa as the heiress oi aif the Pueblo. When Chepa's last and dearest paymate, Pablo McNamara, left the ead town to seek a hivelihood else here the girl would have run away rom home; but, profouindly ignoraut s she was, a vague terror always ac ompan ied her speculationls upbn suchm course. At 16 she had touches of beaut bout her fit to dream upoa, a rich culpture of the lips, a dewy fire deep n her dark eves, a glint of ravishing olor where her somber hair ridged itself to the suin. But she pondered too deeply about erselef. There was much in her -nely habits to draw her to forsaken laces. Such a place was one of the 2any ruins in Pueblo Viejo. "Mer edes' house" it was called, after a bride killed there by the falling of a tile through a weak place in tihe hatch. T dwelline with all it contained, bad been superstitiously abandoned. uch rooms as were open had been obbed by Indians, but the death hamber at one end oif the rowv, her etically sealed by the weight of the sinking roof, remained untouched. A footpath leading from the placita o the little Catholic Chapel on the utskirts of the town would have been shortened by going past Ner ~edes' house, but curved off widely in stead. A thicket of castor-bean and wilL rbacco grewv rankiy around it.. hepa couid be sure of solitude there. One afternoon she iled to 31ercedes' house in bitter revolt. Shlegave vent o her feelings with childish abandon y tearing at the braids of her hiair, ilto which lhack strings hadl been tightly woven-a hideous 31exican fasion. She Idung1 tile string on the floor. er two brais diideid inltcix (dee piv aving st rinds; she attacked eacht strand, whipping it about. I ier tboughts went even faster than her .n gers. KMy zrandfather w'ill (10 what lit pleass with his own," she declared, addressing her aunt, Luise Poriltiri. n imagination. '-You cannot stop him."' lJ'r loose locke spreadl graduallt Into a rich miass. She ilng thenti around util il her head swain andi an electric life awoke in each airy tila nien t. The .rnchine pouring down through h broken roof oif the roi n where she' at took this mlagnli teenit miist of hair o itslf. settinig it alire. Cepa was uivertied from one cause f a nger~ to aniother. "is this Indian hair?" she askedI,1i transort of scorn and delight. For the Senora Portirio had not :ept fromr he'r the ugly ol rumnor tha;t e gruntIlllther's first n ife. her ver it he gzra.l~nmother had been. Ino t a iexican womau, but an Iudian Little birds. accustomed to makefree ith Mercedes' house, couild not wail 'r the disappearance of that gloritied ippartltionm. Sitting silent on a rubbish-heap uir,-i irop iigntiy cown nesiac rer. She welcome-d -r visitor with a han : . half whistle. a cliarm slh had learned from a Cahuilla Indian girl. With a hop the bird tok the edge of a tile-shard nearer to that mys terious simmfonfl. H., twisted his head with insatiablI curiosiv. As the hissing whistle went on in quisitive twitterings fell from ragged fringes of thatch overhead. excited shadows wiuked across the sunshine; bird after bird slip-ped down the gold. en chute and alighted. In the midst of this growing flock Clpa was cautiously gathering up 'he hem of her gown so as to make a deep bag. Whistle, whie. A knot of snakt grass. stirred by lleaven knows what. ror nothing else was stirring, rustled aith sound of life trailing by: but :ot a bird took fright. Whistle, whistle. A wild tobacco tree, whose top, dripping slenderly over the wall, dipped deep into the sunstream, sprang up suddenly, riding some flaw, and sprinkled Chepa and her en hanced observers with sundrops. Whistle, whistle. Swiftly Cliepa's free hand darted out to catch a bird, and .eturning, whisk it into her improv ised bag. The other birds flew wildly away, but Chepa knew how to lure them : :iek until her game pouch .s as :ull as she cared to have it. What did she mean to do? With. >ut doubt the Cahuilla girl had kept aer captives for the spit. Chepa Stood up, gathering the ,kirt of her gown closer and closer. he talked to her prisoners aloud: "You will never, never ily again: An ever-recurring "n'' froi the spanish tongue wa- shaded to infinite :ieanings oi Chepa's lips; was defer mtial, gracious, wistful, from mood i m0ood. '(Only your feathers will fly wher, [ pick them. One by one they will ly away to the top of the trees; way high up to the sun." The imprisoned lirds chirped fran ically. Chepa was thrilled by the ect of their tiny feet kicking and cratching. -But you will be dead, dead, dead." With this dire repetition she gave he tumbling, palpitating mass an estatic squeeze-and let her gown ~all. The birds rolled downward as one, Du, only far enough to catch thei ings, and whirr! They were slant. .ng madly up the sunbeam-up, up, 1i if iot, to stop short of the sky. "hepa's very heart rose with them. 3he stretched up her arms as if to fhare in their glorious liberation. Her rebellious mood had given way 'o an ecstasy of hope. This hope had some foundation. A :orporation of medical specialists xere bargaining for a thousaud acres f her grandfathier's land. 'They ere to build a sanitariur.1 for con sumptives, to plant gardens and or. :hards in which patients might work ut their own cure. The Captain thotught it a magnsfl. :ent scheme. Hie had gone into it aart and soul, raising his price en thusiastically from day to day. lHe talked to Chepa incessantly, with asfles of youth in his weakc. old eyes, f what he would do with changing, et always fabulous sums of money. The birds were gone. Chepa sat own once more on the rubbish heal) n the, midst of her red-gold bush of A dream of the future glittered and spurn like the sunshine, adorably pure, laden with balm and ozone hich men were coming to buy with aer grandlfather's land. Out of this dream of the future, idvancing to meet the self she was to e, came her lost playmate, l'ablo WeNam ara. Ie turned adoring eyes upon her. "You are beautiful," lie seemed to my, "and I love you." A sound not human hnke upon her ears with startling nearness. Jtust ne thrilling note, and at an omin us interval another. 'The bells of the Mater Purissima bad begzun to toll. Ineffably clear and right at hand, nd yet those tones had a singular soundl of remoteness. No material u Lerposition produced this etfect. It was a spiritual quality, an aloofness, n touch with the dead pueblo, with ts summer-burned hills and the eeping away of life. rThose vibrations as they widened ut toward infinity took Chepa's soul vith them. 1Her dIream of the future assedl inito themi as a breath passes ito a wide-winged wind and is lost. She rose quickly and went to look hrough the great blossom brushes of he castor-bean with an instinctiv~e iort to lay hold upon somne object hat wold~ bring hack the present to er senses, bring back her hopes for he future. Bevond the thicket, across a sun. aked open space, stood the little ~hapel. A s through a mist she saw s side d(or standing ipen, its (lark nterior shiowinog as a nuiche of shadow. Rude fliures which the sunshiine oubl nuot enl iven were crowding out f thli S shiadow. (n )iof~i t hem bore i miy box decorat ed with gay tatters > clot h a nd piper. ''It is only an Indian baby," Chepa said,. in a daze. 1;ehind the chapel rose up austere ly the bare posts arid cross-beams where tihe bells hung, or. as now, rolled languidly against the blue of the eep sky. Seen through these posts as in a framnie, i mmeasu rabldy perlectivyes of wild land merged in the sapphire up. lift of False Bay. 11pon this vacant water the after noon was passing in Ilights of golden Would those bells never (cease! Tht. priest who. only, lia1 the right to ring thuem was lying haek their cou errated tongues. Iut whenever Chepa awoke that night their vibrations seemedl to be til widening outward from her brain. Chepa's heart was full of delirious expectations. The hours that sepa ated her from a new life of travel md luxury, such as her grandfather iad garrulously pictured, were ' . :heir way. At noon sharp, that very ay, the great land deal was to be ~onsummated. A t 10 o'clock. giving up an attempt 0 s.41 tlie ioruuig as usgaL. i~n hig am How Insects Mlake lln;ie. . Everybody is familiar wPith ii musia of the katydid. 1Iere, again, sava the Washington Star, it is the male that has the voice. At the base of each wing cover is a thin mlil branous plate. He elevates the wiag covers and rabs the two plates to gether. If you could rub your shuilder blades together you could imitate the operation very nicely. Certain grasshoppers make a sound when flying that is like a watchman's rattle-clacketty-clack, very rapidly repeated. There are also some moths and butterflies which have voices. The "death's-head" moth mkes a noise when frightened that strikingly rt - sembles the crying of a young baby. How it is produced is not known, though volumes have been written on the subject. The "mourning cloak" butterfly-a dark species with a light border in its wings-makes a cry of alarm by rubbing its wings together. P The katydids, crickets, grasshoppers and other musical insects are all ex aggerated in the tropics, accuming giant forms. Thus their cries are proportionately louder. There is an East Indian cicada which make a re markable loud noise. It is called by the natives 'dunnub," which means drum. From this name comes that of the genus, which is known as dun dubia. This is one of the few scientitie terms derived from the Sanskirt. : The "deathwatch" is a popular name applied to certain beetles which bora into the walls and floors of old houses. They make a ticking sound by standing on their hind legs and knocking their heads against the wood quickly and forcibly. It is a sexual calL Many superstitions have been entertained respecting the noise produced by these insects, which is sometimes imagined to be a warning of death. k Entomologists have succeeded in recording the cries of many insects by the ordinary system of musical notation. But this method does not show the actual pitch, which is usually several octaves above the staff. It merely serves to express the musical intervals. It is known with reason able certainty that many insects have voices so highly pitched that they can not be heard by the human ear. One evidence of this fact is that some people can distinguish cries of insects which are not audible to others. A Cowboy District Attorney. Everybody in the Panhandle kuonri Lorenzo Dow Miller. Better than thaIt, everybody likes him and admires him. Dow lives at Panhandle City, and is Dis trict Attorney, and rules over twenty-ni counties. He is a genius. Born in Texas, he went to the Pan handle years ago, when the Indians were still in the country. His capital ca'n sisted of an unusual amount of comniu sense and a six-shooter. He went out on the plains as a cowboy and has punched long horns all the way froan Lost valley to the neutral strip. Around his camp fire at night he pored over an old volume of Blackstone. Before very long he bought some more books. Hon est, sober and industrious, he mile friends as fast as the prairie grass grows in the spring or a yearling runs in a stampede. He astonished the wcrld one - -. day by announcing his candlidacy for District Attorney. He astonished the world on the day after t te election by having beaten W. H. Woodman, his op ponent. From that time Dow has gone on un - til he is invincible in his district. Oae of his arguments, made before a G:eer County jury before the vernacular of the ranch had given way to the polish of the effete East, was as follow4: ''Gentlemen of the jury, look at that prisoner. His phiz is dead tough. Hie's a thief, and a sneak thief at that. Lok at those knots on the back of his hea'd. They are the bumps of cussednaess. How [ came to know is I traveled witha a -Ircus once and got on to thae racket. Niow I want to give yoa a conlilential stiff and drop a few points into your sys tem. If you turn that fellow loose the bars of every ranch in this county will be down before Sunday night and so:ns ine steers will be lost." He left the case go and the ma got .wo years. You must know Miller to apprezit aim. You must hear him tell ho.v he >lutfed a judge out of fining himt for :ontempt by threatening to attach the foresaid judge as a witness in HFi tr I Dounty, and thus c:>:pAl hin to ":.'' -niles across the couatry la Lh sno.. - ialveston (Texas) Ne .vs. *Senator Bate's Historic'.! ('ustomu. Senator Bate, of Tennessee, has a~ custom that is both pictiuresque and1 historical. He is never to be seeni without having what hie calls his dry smoke, that is a ciga'r stickin~g ont of Ino corner of his miouth. No ,onesince he has been inCo'ngress has ever seen him o light one. In fact, he hias not lighx d a cigar since the year 15t3. Up' that time he was on inveterate smo ker and always had a ligh ted cigar bet ween his teeth. He was in the Con federate army during the war and in that year was serving in the camipaign of \>r ginia. In one of the battles of that! campaign he and his brother were, riding together. Bate took out a couple of cigars, handel one to be brother. Then tried to light a mnatech on his saddle. As he did s'o a camnnu ball whizzed by putting out the matchj that the future Senator Bate had li?ghi d and at the sanme time taking otl the head of his brother. Date carried the dead body from the tield and after some of the excitement had passed away he found the unlighted cigar still in his mouth. He did not light it. and from that day to this he has never lighted a cigar. The shock was so great that he never fully recovered from it and the unlighted cigar is the one sad remaindler and vet onlyv tobaccoe~ solace has he iuduiited in ,since that To chose time is to sa fe iimo'e ard an ureasona'' mo ' sIu ei m th air. What is taken fr nm the iom tun also ma; haily be: so muc-h lited fran the Sul. Every man thinks he mPkhit become famous if lie hdl more time to write 1t is hard for anybodyv e' se to l'ease the man who is well pleased with him ~eaf. I orcT-Ud, ihe CaptaImii had iessed himself with distinct reference to his dignity as a man of means. The tails of his gingham shiits .vont to hIow free, were tucked in. JIis hair, ordinarily left to draggle in gray wisps over his shouldors. was :irawn up and Fjire'ad painstakingly tha to conceal an extensive baldness. A stro,. ngusty odor exaled froi a bran new silk handkerchief kiatted about his throat. Chepa. onl tiptnr with exuitatIon, .nnounced to hii constantlv how many isore teams and horses were aitching in the placita. Ile remarked with an air of pride. "They've heered of this big 'huy' ill over the country." The Senor Poriirio, who had taker. the Captain's side against Luise Por firio and other mossback cpponents of the sale. dawdled uneasily back and forth between his open (loor and the Captain's. "You might spring an advance o! Sve thousand on them, " he advised a the last Tuinute. i-They' would not let their scheme fall through for five .housand. "Think ye? Think ye?'' demanded, the Captain, grouping and regr->up ing his wrinkles to the expression of 7arying shades of cupidity. With the suddenness that surprises us in things long waited for, the great interview was actually taking place Chepa had fled to an adjoining roomr to listen. 11er head and heart throbbed together with joy-then terror. Was that her grandfather's voic 3reaking out furiously? "Who 's made ye a better offer9 Porfirio? ie hasn't an acre in his >wn right. Forty dollars an acre? Take him up, then, and when your impr oveinents are in see If there ain't a rightL o di 'wer or trust deed, some d n Mexican tricki'ry, trumped up to dra-v yc into litigation?" If Senor Porlirio had spoiled Cap ;ain Matthews' sale the Captain looked to a prompt return or the at tention. Those eminent specialists went else .Mhere, leaving Pueblo Viejo to its old ways. After such a terrible disappoint ment Chepa found the deadly monot' ony of things indoors unendurable. A golden perch swimming in circles oounded by a glass bottle startled so stupidly at nothing. The round wooden clock on a bare wooden shelf was perpetually rolling over on its head and ticking placidly upside down. When Chepa was half mad with drawing threads from endless strips of perlillada, her aunt's favorite species of Spanish lace, she ran des perately to her grandfather. Snhe found him talking aloud tc himself as he stooped over a pepper vine. She laid her cheek, pale with thoughts, upon the arm he needed to have free. "What's the miatter of ye anyhow?' ne shouted. She had startled him when he was~ deeply pre-occupied. "Let go, there? Eh, eh?'' Chepa had said something in a low tone which he could not hear. Hie jerked his face up at her and instantly, in the intensity of a peev ish inqiuiry, drew his toothless lips apiart. What has an old man of 80 to dc. in the Captain's agitation he pulled off a green pelpper and stood up fumi bling at it and blinking his weak old yes at Chepa. "What's on ye, Chepa?" She tried to speak, but could onl3 draw her breath hard. The Captain's (discomfort pushed him to seek relief in a general accusa tion. "Weemen are al'ays hankerin for somethin'." '"Grandfather," said Chepa with a .eep. still gaze upon him, andl a child ish quiver of her lip, "could not a girl like me be a religious, a nun? is it no(t good, no?" How had the Captain's life pre pared him to answer such a query? "Who's been a-talkin' to ye?" "Nobody-sure, no. i think of it. myself." "i've got along all niy life-and i Ain't gomn' to b'gin giv'in' in to such notions. You're your grandmother all over." With the green pepper still in hit nand he had disemboweled it and ate the carcass with a furious churning of the jaws. is eyes were redder than usual from the burning. '"But when she got (ane o' her spellh ' hankerin' on 1 jest uppedl and off fer a week's huntin'. When I got back she was pertty generally ready to take things as they come." "Grandfather," said Chepa, looking at him as never before. with eyes that summoned him before the judlgment bar of a soul, "'I have often thon'fh* o myself I would ask you, Is that tory true that I hear? Was my randlmother all Indian?" Hecr lip) quivered, not childir ow, as she waitedl. "'Is it true, grandifather?" H e answered sharply, ''You're a :01:"' andl turned his back on her. As Ch'pa was going vaguely out of hei~ gardent she saw Palo McNanmara whirling away from the town in a ja:nty dhs-cart. J~ead grasses li'ekered ghost-like in. he placita. The sunshine absorbed there by dark walls lay dimly as in an eclipse. A t a curbless well, covered by a lid et inito the street like a trap-door, a superannuated horse was waiting for sonic one to give him a drink. He blew his nostrils at Chepa and pawed at the wooden lid. Sho drew wate:- and gave him to rin k. The chapel door was standing open apon the eternalt shadow of its in teior. A priest praying alone befor'a the altar did not look up while Chepa stood about. Behind the chapel those bells s~~ee to be fore ver' waiting for youth to be dead and borne to its burial. A second time that strange seizurel Staring up soberly at the bells Chepa fond the present with its despair trembling outward from her soul to possess that vacant landscape. the world, eternity itself, in ripples of olemn sound.* * * . * 9 A stxanp cnt hnd nuickened )f life. Ciepa 3Matthews' sudder? disappeart u ince was associated with I'ablo !Me Namara's equally sudden departure from that sectioni of the country. v Mut Capt. Matthews charged fu-ri' t .uvly upon all gossips with another thery. Iis "little Chepy" had be-en ru "inveigled awaiy fri 1 hin b1- rest who wanted hi-, lai. Ili An liliaii biy sin.I. biti neo ai Mercedle' hu.e leard a strai.ngC C1 ouintd in I ee. The house hadi awars been i unted. C( I was long before lileni were led to st scareh it. it A heap f stones and tiles rudelv L< ilting a nlight of steps led from1 the earthen flo 'r u1p tO theC roof of co Mercedes' death chaniher. tb Looking thro.gh th e rniinus hatch pe Into the cell-like gloom below a sight m xo chill the bloed was seen. a Rooted amid dust and cobwebs. he til Nild hair in a sunless inkt, stood w, what had been Ch'pa Matthews. a I Her arms hung rigidly down in front o her; the nands, locked together, %b r made one fist. hc At odd nioments, far apart, movea 'ro oy some blind iiechanin, her arms gu lifted toward her breast, the fist Tl .,m,.te there, and a voice, not hers, lh but hollow andl vibrant. answered the 1 stroke as a bell its clapper. One lamentabe great tone, and at oninous th intervals another and anot her: de 'Oh-h! Oh-h! Oh-h!" 0o Then marble silence agzaiii. De le ,(out Catholies saw how thiS ailliction had come about. Had not that. robber of a capt air. ust "floated a <laim" over the land e! jn which the chapel stoody W To punish this heretic, those blessed ca )ells had "gone to Chepa Matthews' PU brain." Solenin groups stand for hours at an ;afe distances from Mercedes' house t to hear and shudder at those lament. di able great tones. d ''oh-h Oh-h! Oh-h!' W Thus ringing her own knell die4. hi 2hepa Matthews, aged 16. No other knell is rulng for her he pi-stly guardian of the bells will n(7 untie their austere sweet tongues. ag on Ephraim's; Sin.So Uncle Silas was a very honest, and co pious old colored man who, jr eached a ano on. Sundays,and had a geat int!uence pa for good upon the others in the set tlement. During one of his revival an seasons, among a dozen or so at the th mourners' bench, was a black boy called Eph, about 21) years old, and ca for a long time unregenerate. Lncle cei Silas was greatly re:oiced to see him come forward, and at once went to th: him. Eph was erying. is "Hain't no use in mv comin' up.' of be sobbedi. '-I'se sinied away de day pe ob grace." -No, you ain't. brudder," protestef he nche Silas. "You am de kin' whiat pe dec Lawd wants toi save . All you got be ti do is to gib up sin."'co "'se duii donie dar, Uncle Silis,' an' sobbed~ Eph, '-but dey ain't no salva- Ca. tion fer nme." thb "Yes (dey is, too. honey. Dey aiin't at1 no sin so b'ack dlat hit ain't washed tu, white as snow." q "I done stole fo' chickens las' . Co week," con fessed the penitent. idy "Dat's all fuggi b, Eph'm." po "An' two de week befo', Uncis ' ho Silas." Up "DIat's fuggib, too, Eph'm." thb "un' two de week bei'or' dat, Uncle ins Silas.'7 TJ "Dat's all right, too, Eph'm." ,51l ''But dem two was you'nl, I ncle ibu Silas. Demi fat pullets you low'd se ! 00l much sto' by, Uncle Silas." I tb "Wha' (dat.?" exclaimed Unct~e Silas, be; sudd~enly. th '-D~em las' two Wuz/ yo' pullets, jai Uncle Silas," sobbed Eph. Lh' Uncle Silas became solemn and 'ai stern. ".1 reeon, Eph'im," he said, slowly ''You' case nieedis advisement wic, pira'r. I ain' shio dat we wanter he tio clutterin' up de Kiingdom of' Hebben mi wid chicken thieves, an' you better t stay right on de mio'ners' bench tillit de meetin' ami done, an' we kin up dezamine yo' state ob sin for per- ein ticklers. "-Free Press. S Capt. Calile',t Crew of lav'eq. The death (of Capt. George W-. br< Cable, one of the earliest or Misscuri ess River steamboatinen, cuts the list of gr< old-timers notably. lie was 84 yearsfe ld when he died. lie had been th; naaster, mate, engmneer, owner, and the pilot. He was :23 when he began his 'po areer. In tive years he was a ha licensed engineer. Three years later otl he~ was commissioned as a pilot from ti New Orleans to the Rocky Mountains| tic and on the LUpper Mississippi to St. ensd Paul. As those were the days of muag-'ne niticent salaries in the sti-amboating soi bushi es~x, Capt. Cable miade a great -e leal of mioney by carefully invest- se~ ing the liberal pay t hat he received. bu It was not long until he became a Lh steamboat owner in his own name. hna Of the famous boats of the forties ha and fifties that he ownedl the Edward Walsh, George Collier, Mary Mc Donald, and Luther Kennrett were the largest and fastest. Later he die was5 miater and part owner of the ne John Aulli, piobabily the faust est boat asl that ever cut the muddy waters of -1 the Missouri River. - The crew of the AMill were negro we slaves, the property of the boat mai~n- or agement. When Capt. Cable was rei most prosperous he used to while pi< away the evenings on the hurricane sul :eck, throwing handfuls of silver flo' half-dollars mnto the air, letting them Tt fa ein the forecastle, where he could wC watch the crew scramble fuor them. cre Misfortune overtook him with the ga :omings of the railroads. ik boats Pc and other property were swept away, ag leaving him in his old age poor in tal poney and health, with oinly a t memory of the brighter days to cheer T himn. diy The sooner a man becomes convinced - of the things ha can't do the quick~er he ol wi1 succeed in life. (of Measured by our tiune standard all there are forty -ears -of constant day. Ca light, followed by forty years of un broken night, around the spole' o1 Uranus. And the sun rises in the w a amd sets in the Last there. If thou thy part do well, the prize ita sure; all shall inheret bliss who to the end endure. WITH HiS WHIP, ilicked the Revolver From the Stagi Robber'- =And. '"There is quite a difference be Feen staging in the early days of . State and now," said William iller, the owner of the stage line rining from Cazaaero to Ukiah. "When I came here from Boston 1S54, I drifted about a bit, and ally went into the service o: iarles McLaughlin, the man who is afterward killed by Jerome ix. He was the owner of the longest ige line in California at that time. ran with relays from San lose to >s Angeles. "I remember once, in a lonely ast range canyon, through v:hich e road wound, we bad a little ex rience that was thrilling for the )ment, It was about 10 o'Glock and moonlight night. I was just put. 1z the horses through. The stage ts full of passengers, and t ere was ieavy treasure box. "Ju-t as I got around a bend in e roal i saw a figure of a man on rseback standing by the side of the id. He yelled to stop, and I saw a n barrel gleam in the moonlight. ie horses were going at a speed at might be called breakneck, and ust made up my mind to tak the ance of getting through. I saw e gun raised to the ,ellow's shoul r as we approached. I haa my ig whip in my hand, and with a peration born of peril of the mo mt I made a vicious swipe at him. "1 don't know how it occurred, but e lash wound itself around the n, and as we dashed by the whip is drawn taut, and I knew It had ght, so held fast. I was nearly lied out of my seat, but the gun La dragged from the robber's band d fell to the ground, at the same e it was discha.ged by the shock. rattled along the road for quite a tance before the whiplash un und itself. I don't know what the hwayman thought, but I'll bet he s surprised."-San Francisco Call. Lighting from Storage. ghting cars electrically by stor ? batteries has now been practiced the Chesapeake and Ohio road for ne months and at present eight iches, eight combination, eight ex -ss, five dining and four postal cars provided with the necessary ap ratus. A comparative statement the cost of working and mainten ee, indluding interest charges of se thirty-three ca s, twenty-one -s lighted by Pintsch gas and 137 -s lighted with ke osene oil has re itly been sent to the General Man r of the road. The report states it the cost of the electric lighting bout 13 per cent less than that lighting by Pintscb gas and 70 - cent. more than with kerosene aps. The storage batteries are d in oblong boxes weighing com te about 600 pounds, forty boxes ng enough to lighb an ordinary ten from New York to Cincinnati I return, although most of the cars ry six boxes. In the run between, se cities the apparatus requires no ,ention whatever, the trainmen -ning the light on and off as re red. The cells are charged diZ vington, Ky., where there are two amos driven by a seventy horse wer engine running steadily ten urs a day. The bat~tery Is built of leaa plates laid 'horizontally, positive and negative plater be. separated by a special packing. e negative plates wear out very wly, say in eight or nine years, . the life of the positive plates is y about eighteen months. Al ugh the plates are kept In rub. ce is and are handled carefully at (barging stations, the constant ring of the cars is fouud to hasten, ~ir destruction, just as does 'the ring of street railway cars. Mahan on Battle Ships. rapt. Mahan was asked some ques-. ns the other day by an English .n about the battle ship of the f u -e, and this was his answer: "Mil ry superority in warfare depends; ran heavy blows struck at ths amy's organized fihting force. eh blows miust be struck by massed. ces, the units of which should be lividually powerful for off-ense and ~ense, because so only can they be >ught under the unity of command: ential to success. The same ag ~gate of force in two ort three dif ent vessers will rarely be equal to t concenwitted in (.ne, becaase of Sdia:culty o: insuring mutual supa -t. This means heavy vessels or. tle shipis. Of course, like all, ier statements. this means limita-i n. The size of vessels is condi ned not only by construction con-. erations, but by the fact that you al to scatter at times as well as icentrate. This involves the ne s:ty of diviaing your force into eral vessels, becau-:e a ship once It cannot be divded. .Between two horns of the dilemma you .st strike a mnean; but always a ~tle ship. Condiments. [o those who preach simpnlicitv of I, conaiments seem not only un :essary but injurious. Why, they :should one take a pie e of cheese ,he bigher" the better, of course fter a full meca , or why is it that .avor our viands with sauce this sauce that?~ Science has an answer dy: Because the condiments, kies and cheese are all -so many stances which tend's to hiavor a e of the digestive secretions. ey stimulawu digest-on. in other rds, because they cause an in ased s cretion 'f the saliva and of tric juice wherewith o'ir foo'ds are rt indigested. Again, they are reea;le to the palate, and the men izuluece.which is thus shed on a similation of food is of n-a in value in determining that go d estion should "wait on appetite " -he first known European library ginted in the presont to the fain ly Ii gulus b~y the Roman Senate of the books seized at the caipture of )NLY two pcop.le attend a real pic S wonx~v can lace herself so tighi a man can drinik himself. [here are 13,000) varieties of postge mnns in the world A GOOD BREAD CRUSADE" 4 Englihaann Win Try to AceOmplishe MNch Needed Reform. Of all the crusades recently starte( for the referm, improvement, or pro, pagotion of this, that, or the otheM the very latest is one looking to the netterment of physical mankind through the correction of dietetic eri rors of various sorts into which civii ized people have fallen. An Englishi man named Herbert William Hart N the high priest and moving spirit of this crusade, and although 55 yearl of age, he is said to be a most con. vincing example of the excellence o his ideas as applied. Mr. Hart such followers as he has alrea. gained hold to the belief that the nervousness, lack of reserve force, and general want of robustness among moderns, especially the classee living in cities and engaged in seden. tary occupations, are due almost en tirely to lack of proper nourishment. Even the present labor and business troubles, theyaver, are due to mental depression and excitement superin. d uced by want of wholesome and di gestible food. With the meat we eat and the reg. etables even, the crusaders have no particular quarrel. It Is the bread that a ma'ority of the civilized peo ple of to-day put into their stomachs which Mr. Hart and his disciples severely condemn as being innutrit. ious, provocative of fermentation and consequont dyspepsia and other dis. orders, and altogether harmful in various ways. Our bread, made o1 bolted and reboltei wheat flour, say they, contains little else but starch, and starch does not.supply nearly all the re :uirements of the human sys tem. Wheat, as taken from straw, contains a number of elements elim inated in the modern milling pro. cesses which are absolutely necessary to the restoration of tissue and the formAtion of blood and bone. Conse quently bread should be made from whole wheat flour-I. e. f'our manu facturod by the simple process ot crushing the wheat grains. It was upon such ftour, says Mr. Hart, that the apostles built up the constitu tions which enabled them to perform their great work ot evangeli.ation-a work requiring wounderful physical energy and endurance as well as great mental power. it was upon whole wheat fou', they say, that ths Greeks became the most learned, the most artistic, and the handsomest people the world has known, and upon it the Romans nourished the warriors and statesmen which made their capital the mistress of the whole known world. Shakspeare, most industrious and fertile-brained of all poets an writers, was wont te take his own selected grain to Lucy's miil and have .t made into meal from wh ch no element was eliminated, and the American and African abo rigines. whose splendid health and sinewy frames have caused the white man envy, never ate breadstuffof an9 other kind than that cont.alning t~be whole grain until brought into con tact with civilization. Lime iron, and silex are the prop erties of wheat elimated in mode-rc bread making, and they are all vi tally necessary to the human const: tution. When Mr. Hart and his fol lowers have succeeded in bringin~g the world to a realization of this fact, and consequent rationai milling and man ufacture or breadstuffs, it is safe tc say that the general health will De vastly imneroved. even ir all men do not become ma. vels of streug~and intelMet,--rwomen paragons et beauty and grace, and all doctors and dentists unnecessary and superfluous adjuncts of society, elispronunciation of Words. Many mispronunciations may be ac. counted for on the ground of laziness inherent in man. It is a great deal easier to pronounce the vtiwel sounds than the consonant sounds: and, by the way, it is a curi ous fact that man is a coasonant sounding animal; animals use vowels; it is the province of man to shape these vowels into words with the use of consonants. Hence, Homer de fines man as "speech-dividing." It is a great deal easier to say sah, mistah, and waht, than to say sir, mister, and war. It is easier to say mornin', evenin', than :morning, evening. But on the other hand, there are cases when the destroyer of English seems to take considerable trouble to accfmplish his purpose. Is is easier to say borrer than borrow, or garding sass than ga:den sauce? It is eas er to) say 'uss than horse; but why go to the gratuitous labor of nrefixing an li in a great many cases where it does not belong? Almost anybody could say asparagus, but it seems to require some little etymological erudition to say si arrow grass. A country friend - :>f the writer invariably called succo Lash su -cothash. being apparentl under the impression that it is an 'fl geniouis compound of the veget fle and the aninmal, coming under the general name of hash. Another ac guiaintance, who speaks very de'i er ately, sa. with an e xasperatmng j'I know-I-an right" expression of chun tenance, laboriously adds a "g'/ to all w >rds ending with "n"--as capting, Bosting. and so on. H~is mlispro, nunciation seems to proceed from aa sire to be unusually exact and ti~ebel in speech. and it would require sinne :ouramge to call him to account 1o, his errors. The progress of science has ca.R fd a new cr'ime into existence. A ca.e recently came .before a certain 1:ry-~ tourt in which a man, with son,e knowledlze of electricity, cause.l the mecter which registerea the anmount which he used for illuminatmng pur pesto recordi les; thar. lie had con ium:-d. The lawy er who defende:d hoim ingenoiusy arg i that as elec tri.:ity was an intn.; ible -omie'thlin.4 of which no onec Cu'Ui rea'ly state t .e exace'natuire.Oand t"e. at lawv it wvas actully nknon. ; 'client coulad noat be c onvicted ol' mtal .ng it. But the lawyer nit hzis mtcth on the other sidle i a one who uhowed th.:g was a'so unak owaV 1 corumon~i law, !.ut was recogni~ed as a thing th -1 cuild be stoen. In~ the se inel ti.4 judge took advanturec of a certain -:t stute which makes 'ra. d co-mmitte-d with a view to theft, i fe'ony, and the man who stole tly electricity is therefore likely to med with the re wma of his nnsde.4 ..