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(TrtL NARK OF- -AC.'JRNTLl
In dealing with a jewely store you
want a liberal supply of reliability
with each purchase.
Our goods are absolutely guaranteed
and fifty years successful business
has established our reputation for re
liability. ALT LAKE CITY. UTAH
" T 4 rp mtrpp Adrlcc ai to patent-
Scad (ketch and deicriptioa of your inTentioa.
Harry J. Robimaa, Attoraey at Law aad Solicitor
f Piteolt, 304-5 Jadgt Baildini, Salt Lakt City
The Most Expressive Word.
At a recent meeting of savants and
others wlih pretensions to authority
In a matter of language, a discussion
arose as to the most, expressive word
in English. WhNe admitting that the
field was a wide one and that decis
ion could only rest upon the very
general grounds, the participants took
great interest in the question and
many suggestions were made. It was
observed that the tendency was to
name onomatopoetic words, such as
"buzz," "crack," "rattle," "snap" and
"thud." From these the list, took on
e. subtler cast, and the word "honor"
found several supporters. Other ex
pressions of moods or sentiments, as
lonely," "dreary," "mournful" and
"blithesome," met with favor.
When the matter was at a stand
still one of those present advanced
the word "no," with a strong plea for
Its acceptance as the most expressive
word. It was unanimously agreed that
"no" was the answer, not particularly
because it was a striking example of
onomatopoeia, but because It most
completely, quickly and definitely
conveyed unmistakable idea.
Wanted a Weeping Whale. -
Captain H. P. Nuse or the Cetlic
was regaling a little group of ladles
With sea stories.
"One trip," he said, "there was a
"woman who bothered the officers and
sue to death about whale. Her one
desire wan to see a whale. A dozen
times a day she besought us to have
Her called if a whale hove in sight.
"I said rather impatiently to her
"'But, madam, why are you so anx
ious about this whale question?'
"'Captain,' she answered, 'I want
to see a whale blubber. It must be
very impressive to see such an enor
mous creature cry.'" Rochester Herald.
An Old-Style Actress.
Chnrlotte Crabtreo, otherwise
"Lotta" (ask your father if he ever
aw her on the stage), has Just won
litigation which will bring her prop
erty valued at $100,001). She is worth,
It is said, about $1,000,000, made by
Investing her stage earnings in real
estate In large cities. She was never
counted a beauty; she did not en
courage the "Johnnies;" did not fig
ure in the divorce court in any ca
pacity, and she quit playing before
the public got tired o! her. No bene
fit performances had to be given for
her after her retirement. She was
altogether respectable and she paid
her own bills. Quite an old-style
actress. Chicago Tribune.
He Was Not Mercenary.
She: "So many men nowadays mar
ry for money. You wouldn't marry
me for money, would you, dearest?"
He (absently): "No, darling; 1
wouldn't marry you for all the money
In the world."
She: "Oh, you horrid, horrid
wretch." Boston Transcript.
"Going across for pleasure?"
"No, merely to bring the wife
borne." Cassell's Journal.
Was Laid on the Shelf.
Algernon Tassln has a story in the
current Smart Set that stamps htm l
a maBter hand at the depiction of ten
der sentiment and remakablo draw
ing. "The Restoration of Miss Willy
MacNeal" is the story of a once pop
ular actress, laid on the shelf for
many years, who suddenly finds her
opportunity and goes back to her
throne. "Simoon Craig's last Words"
la a powerfully portrayed account of a
tragedy that resulted from a wild
"joy ride. There is a remarkable
Btudy of a woman's soul torn by fear
and remorse, besides a number of
other excellent stories.
Overheard on the Honeymoon.
The Bride: Hut why look so blue,
Freddy? You know papa has prom
ised ho will si 111 buy all my frocks."
. -iWw-4Uuu.Jjdtiin.iJlj'i:Yes -but
I'm wondering what the dickens we"
l A 8hall have to eat." Throne and Coun
"It is said that Impetuous people
bave black eyes."
"Yes; and if they don't have them
they are apt to get them."
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HXUSrilAlZD BY VSni4-
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Three kIHa Elisabeth, Galtrlell.. nnd
Sitae- st:i,iiii for Canada to spend the
summer there, on board steamer they
were frightened by an apparently dement
ed stranger, who, finding a bag belonging
to one of tin in. took enjoyment in Scru
tinizing a photo of (lie Irlo. BlUM nliar.il
her stateroom with a Mrs, Qrabatn, MM
bound for Canada The young women on
r sightseeing tour met Mrs. Graham.
anxiously awaiting her husband, who had
a mania for Bailing. Thev were Intro-
duced to Lord Wilfrid ami Lady Edith.
cottage by, the ocean was rented Two
men called, Tiny proved to lii' John C.
Blake .'mil Qordon Bennett, one a friend
of Elisabeth's fattier. A wisp of yellow
h.'i'r from Mr. Graham's pocket fell Into
the hands of Kllse. Mrs. (Jraham's hair
was black, Ken ring for the safety of
some Reins. Lady Edith left them tn a
ante nt the cottage. Mr. Qordon Bennett
was properly Introduced, explained Ids ac
tions on board ship and returned the lost
baar. Exploring the cellar, one of the
pills found a sphinx cllff-buton. the exact
counterpart of which both (lordon Hcn
nelt and Lady Kdlth were found to pos
sess, also. Kllse, alone, explored ttie cel
lar, Overhearing n conversation there be
tween Mary Anno and a man. He proved
to be her mm. charged with murder.
Lady Edith told a story of a lost love In
connection with the sphinx key, At a
supper, which was held on the rocks,
nilznbetli rather mysteriously lost
her ring, causing a search by the entire
party. Onbrlelle witnessed a stormy
scene between Lady Kdlth and Lord Wil
frid, red roses being the MUM of the hit
ter's anger. Marv Anne brought back
Elizabeth's ring. Kllse went sailing with
Qordon Bennett. He tried to persuade
her to return the Jewels left In the girl's
care by t.ady Kdlth. He told her he
found the sphinx scarf nln. the counter
part of which Lady Kdlth owned. The
girls gave a supper. At midnight Kllse
aiiw two men one of them Gordon Ben
nettattempting to force an entrance In
to their bonthouse. She admitted to her
lelf that she had nearly loved him and
believed herself used as a tool by a thief.
"If you please, miss, could you come
to Mrs. Graham?"
This unwelcome summons forced
itself upon me as I lay luxuriously
reading upon the couch in the living
room the day following our dinner
"Did she send for me?"
Mrs Graham's servant, a half-grown
girl with a face of surprising stupidi
ty, stood stolidly before me, the ends
of a small shawl held under her chin,
iinil a frightened expression In her
"Then, why did you come?"
To my surprise, the girl put her
face In her hands and began to cry
with a sniffling persistency very an
noying to hear.
"I'm scared of her," she sobbed;
"she's that queer, miss. She's went all
blue and atiff-like, and Mr. graham
ain't ther'., nor nobody but me. And,
seeing a? how you come to the house
sometimes, miss, I thought as mabe
you might help me, fur I'm scared to
stay alone, so I am."
I rose reluctantly, for I knew hut
little of Illness, and was also "scared"
of the prospect; but go 1 must. In
common decency, and alone at that,
for Mary Anne nnd Elizabeth were out,
and Gabrlelle was shut up in her room
with p. bad cold, the result of too much
wandering about with thin slippers
the night before.
A chill east wind was blowing, and
I shivered as we hastened down the
path and up the narrow steps.
Mrs. Graham lay rigid upon the
couch, her eyes shut and her lips blue
and pinched. I put my hand over her
heart, and Its faint flutter was a great
relief, as I had thought her dead.
"It is only a faint," I exclaimed, and
directed the hewildered girl to as
sist me in my efforts to revive her. At
last we were rewarded by a long
drawn sigh, and the lids slowly lifted
from the dark eyes.
The servant had found some brandy,
and I held a little to her Upg, motion
ing her not to speak, but Bhe pushed
the glass aside and sat upright.
"It is a bad dream," she said "only
a dream! Say it only a dream!"
"Only a dream," 1 repeated, sooth
ingly "a bad dream."
She swallowed a little of the brandy
and lay back exhausted on the couch,
while I followed the servant into the
"Where is Mr. Graham?" I de
"I don't know, miss."
"When will he be home?"
"I don't know, miss."
"Has Mrs. Graham been ill long?"
"I don't know, miss."
"Is there anything you do know?"
1 inquired, my patience worn thread
bare. "No, miss; I don't know nothing."
This statement was so evidently true
llli'l.l.. left her aimlessly poking the
fire and ratlsTMd" toTflSJ pallehf."
She lay quite still, with closed eyes,
so I merely drew a chair near the
ouch and sat down to wait further
levelopiiH'uts. I waited a long time.
Che minutes slipped past, and the
n in grew dim, for twilight was ap-
pronchlng the long summer twilight
which I usually loved, but whose ar
rival 1 dreaded to-day.
At last she stirred, moved restlessly
once or twice, then ruised her head
and looked nround the room.
"Where is he?" she said. "Where
"He has not come home yet, Mrs.
Graham," I replied. "No doubt he will
be here soon."
She fell back upon her pillows, and
instinctively I sprang to her side, but
she waved me away and turned her
face to the wall.
"It was not a dream," she moaned;
"It Is true, quite true."
I heard the little servant close the
window and light her lamp, and en
vied her the warmth and brightness of
her kitchen, for the room was chilly
and fast growing dark.
Finally Mrs. Graham raised herself
by a great effort and beckoned to me.
"On the table in my room," she said,
conversation, her long silences, nlways
followed by wandering to the window
and gazing out over the ocean with
the hopeless yet expectant air of ona
who knows It Is useless to watch, yet
nevertheless continues to do so; and
the final moment when, casting all re
serve aside, she (lung herself upon her
knees beside the couch and prayed
that death might come soon and spare
hor further suffering.
"Oh, Harry," she mourned, "how
could you? And I loved you so!"
It wus Infinitely pitiful, and after a
while, when she grew calmer, she told
me her story, speaking tenderly of the
first few years of her married life and
of her husband's great love for her
and for the child, and the happiness
he brought her.
"Then," she continued, "there came
a change. He went nway, and for
weeks I did not hear from him. I
thought he was dead, and nearly died
also, they tell me. At last he came
back to me so loving, so patient with
my invalid ways, and so self-reproachful
at his own thoughtlessness. He had
been yachting, he said; an Invitation
MEM at the last moment, and the let
ter he sent telling me of his plans
must have mlhcarrled. Could I ever
"Well, 1 was only too. glad to get
him back, and I believed him abso
lutely. For a while, almost a year, we
were very happy again, and 1 was be
ginning to forget, when he disappeared
again. This time he stayed only two
weeks, but when he returned he made
no apologies. The water called him,
he said, and he must go. He never
told me where he went, nor what he
The Minutea Slipped Past, and the Room Grew Dim.
speaking with difficulty, "you will find
some medicine. Drop it in water the
bottle tells how and bring it to me.
Hut be quick!"
I ran to the little room above and
brought the medicine, dropping it with
shaking hand, and holding It to her
lips that she might swallow it. In a
few minutes her breathing grew less
labored, and she oven smiled faintly.
"Don't be frightened," she whis
pered. "I am better now. It is all
over I know these attacks."
Little by little her face grew more
natural, until at last she ceased to
breathe with the short, painful gasp,
and even sat upright among the pil
lows; but It was evident she was still
suffering from some, shock or distress
of mind, for she drew me down beside
her, holding inv hand with a vise-like
grip, as though she feared I might
snatch it away from her.
"Stay with me," she begged. "Don't
leave me. I I cannot stay alone to
night." " WT-rrRTt'Tr-to-tira-H4--rfiiiUUud.
the maid to the cottage with a note
lor (inbriclle, saying simply that Mrs.
Graham was alone and not well, and
wanted me to spend the night with
Shall I ever forget that night? Her
first spasmodic attempts at ordinary
did, but he gave up his other business,
and yet we seemed to have more
money than ever. He went away
often and stayed for long periods after
that, and for months 1 would not know
where he was. When he came back
to me he was always kind, always
thoughtful for my comfort, always
ready to talk on any subject except
the one nearest my Ueart. Hut he
grew to hate the boy."
"His own child?" I Interrupted.
"He said I loved the child better
than 1 loved my husband," she said,
"but God knows whether that Is true
or not. At last I became ill again,
during one of his absences, and when
he returned It was a question Whether
or not I would live. Ho was dreadful
ly shocked and grieved, and on his
knees beside my bed ho begged me
to live for his sake. For his sake
the words sounded wonderfully sweet
to my ears, and when hi' held my hand
In both his own and whispered that
he would never leae me again, I be
"ganTo Teel it de'siYe in pel-wTrr.
' lie kept hU word, too, but this sum
mer ne came to me and told me that
the sea was calling him, and he mus.
go. He suggested that 1 come wll i
him S,i here, where he could have hi ,
boat nnd come home to me at night, kgssssl
but he would not bring the boy, and It faaaBBal
broke my heart to leave him. Now jLbbbbbb!
yon know why I hate the ocean my gsBBssl
"I understand," I said, and I thought iH
I did realize n little how distressing It BB
must be to her to be so near it. H
"Yes," she said; "I came here glad- H
ly, because he asked it, although I H
hate the air and the very sight of the H
ocean. Hut today 1 found something fl
lit, I was mending his cont, trying H
to keep myself occupied and not think H
too much, for ho went out day before H
.M'sterday and I hnvo not seen him H
"Yes?" I said, for she paused tin-
"It Is not the ocean," she said, brok- H
only. "Thnt was but an excuse. It Is
She thrust her hand into the bosom
of her dress, and Instinctively I knew
she would bring forth a small packago J
wrapped in white tissue paper. She H
opened It. nnd I saw the blue ribbon
and the little soft curl with a strnnge H
sense of familiarity. She put her fin- H
ger under the lock of hair, as Eliza H
beth had done, and looked at me wltlt H
"Perhaps," I suggested, "there Is H
"It is pretty. Is it not?" she said. mU
"A little, soft ring of yellow hair!1 mU
Yet when I saw it and realized, my H
heart stopped beating, nnd I remomber H
nothing more until I saw you." H
She was talking calmly now too H
calmly, I thought, as I looked at her H
feverishly bright eyes. The hnnd H
which touched mine occasionally was H
hot and dry. and a round red spot in H
either cheek glowed and paled inter- H
"I am glad I didn't know," she con- H
tinned; "there are some things one H
cannot forgive, nnd I might have H
spoken bitterly. Now I can always re H
member that I never said a harsh H
word to him, even when I was most H
sorely tried. I'm glad of that very mU
She spoke in the tone of quiet rem- H
Inlscence in which one reviews one's H
pnst attitude to the dead, after the mM
first poignancy of grief is over. H
"Hut he will come back," I said. H
"Think how many times he has left H
you before." H
"He will not come back." H
The finality of her voice precluded
a reply, and after a long silence I
suggested thnt she lie down and try mU
to sleep, and I would do likewise. She mU
aereed docilely enough, and I threw mU
myself upon the bed beside her, and H
In a few moments was sound asleep. H
1 slept heavily, for I was very tired, mU
but it seemed scarcely a moment until mU
I heard her call me. mU
"Yes," I cried, alarmed; "what mU
Mrs. Graham, fully dressed and mt
with a lighted candle In her hand, mU
si i a id beside the bed, a shawl around mU
her shoulders and another over her mU
"I am going out," she said. "Come." mM
"Going out '.'" I repeated, parrot-like, H
being still dazed with sleep. H
"Going down to the edge of the wa- H
ter to meet him. It Is calling mo at M
last the ocean calls me, and I'm going. mU
Will you come?" mM
"Walt until morning; we can see H
nothing in the dark." H
"It is dawn," she replied, raising the H
shade. "At last the night has gone." mM
Off at the edge of the horizon was H
a broad streak of pale gray, and, while mM
the Btars still shone, they were fading H
(TO BK CONTINUED.) H
YOUTHFUL FISHERS IN ALASKA. M
Boys' Boat Towed by a Big Halibut H
How the Dogs Help. H
About the mouths of the streams H
on which salmon camps are situated H
the Indian dogs and children amuse H
themselves catching the fish. Some H
of the youngsters are so small that H
after they have succeeded In cornering H
a fish the combined efforts of the H
party are often required to dispatch It H
and carry It to camp. I have watched H
doga running about in a rift snapping H
at the salmon and apparently having H
the time of their lives. H
One of the most amusing sights that H
I saw during my stay in Alaska was H
two Indian boys being towed about H
the harbor at Kadlak by a huge hall- H
but they bad just hooked. Utterly H
unable to land the fish, they had H
lusiened the line to the stern of the H
boat, and while they pulled with all H
their might, each one at an oar, they H
rallied each other for not exerting H
more strength and shouted loudly for fmU
help. Finally an Indian put out in a H
boat and the fish was landed. Forest H
aud Stream. H
Met Their Fate. M
As the echo of the clanging bell died H
away, the man In somber garb arose H
to his feet. H
"Are you ready?" he asked. H
"I am," answered his companion In H
"Then come. The worst will soon bbbbb!
(Musing the door behind them, they H
descended the stairs aud enteied the mM
dluini; loom of their b.. aiding house, H