Turner County herald., May 31, 1906, Image 6

About Turner County herald. (Hurley, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-19??

Image provided by: South Dakota State Historical Society – State Archives

                
A
Tuesday morning was bright and
fine—one of those fair days of the
early spring that this climate of sur
prises sends to delude us Into the be
lief that April is close at hand. It
smiles serene and sunny, and the next
step is a snowstorm or a blizzard.
There Is skating to-morrow on the
meadows where to-day we looked for
ccrouses and primroses. The too bold
young buds are nipped and shriveled,
and the birds stop their courting in
dismay* IfS/ A),
Winstanley, walk'lng tils fio'rse'ln the
dog cart slowly as he approached the
level crossing at Cosham, saw that
the gates were shut, glanced up at the
^reen slope of hill beyond him, where
ihe white chalk pits yawned like snow
caverns, and felt his heart light. He
was bound on that most agreeable of
all errands to a lover—the errand that
takes him to the house of the woman
he loves. It had come to that now
with Winstanley there was no more
delusion of himself in the matter. He
knew that unless he could win Ursula
Hamilton for his wife he would pever
be content. He was all impatience for
the chance to tell her how he loved
her he was incapable of keeping his
own secret from her any longer. As
he looked up the hill behind which she
waited for him, he could hardly wait
for open gates.
The station gates were closed, and
while Winstanley halted for them to
swing open, once the lingering goods
train had taken itself off, he was
aware of a figure approaching with
some haste from the nearer platform,
and holding up a hand to attract his
attention. It was, in fact, the figure of
Baron Taxona, attired in shooting
garb. He was correctly English for
the ino§t part, shooting coat and knick
erbocker sand gaiters his only devi
ation from conventionality was an em
broidered game ba£. II6 held up one
hand on high to arrest Winstanley, a
eomewhat unnecessary proceeding, as
the gates did that on their own ac
count. He ran along the platform and
through the little ticket gate with a
speed that made the porters turn to
look at him—a gentleman in such a
hurry must be a little strange.
"Ah, it is you!" he cried, as he came
tear the dog cart, and found his breath
and his voice. "I was sure of it, even
from that distance. I said to myself,
1 will go and ask my friend.' You cau
tell me which is the way to get to
Nuffield. It is over that high hill, is
It not.? Is there far to walk? I am a
poor hill climber. Gr can one lake one
take one of these carriages?"
By this polite term he designated
one of the shabby, rattling wagonettes
which lay in wait round the station pre
cincts to ta:ke stray excursionists to
Watehloovillfc.
"I shall be very glad to give you a
lift," said Winstanley. There was vir
tually nothing else to say. He could
not possibly know that the baron had
been lying there in wait for him for
the last three-quarters of an hour,
though it did strike hi mthat he was
rather openly hinting at his readiness
to be helped.
"Thanks—a thousand, a thousand!
2 will then fetch my gun and the rest."
The baron ran back to the platform
Tdth alacrity, and returned carrying
ills own gun-case. Wlnstanley's groom
Jumped down, rather shocked, to take
It and put it beneath the seat. Win
stanley, though as fond of waiting on
himself as any man, thought the baron
remarkably averse to using the serv
ices of porters. Some one had told
him that when one traveled abroad
one had to do a lot of that for oneself.
Probably the baron had not been long
enough in this country to understand
what porters were meant for in this
country.
"Ah, now, this is good!" exclaimed
Baron Taxona, with an air of satisfac
tion, as he settled himself In the seat
beside Winstanley and accepted the
half of the fur rug. "A friend in want
is a real friend—is not that your Eng
lish saying? I shall have pleasant
company up the hill now, and my legs
shall he saved. It was great good for
tune that sent me by this train from
Southsea, instead of by one of the alow
trams.
"Train?" echoed Winstanley, vague
ly "I didn't know there had been a
train from Southsea for the last hour.
^You surely haven't waited all this time
at Cosham Station without being able
to find any one to tell you the way
over the hill!"
"The train was delayed," said the
baroa, glibly. This Winstanley was
quicker than he had expected.
He plunged Into talk to prevent fur
ther Questions. He admired the view
as they slowly breasted the hill he
waa effusive over the horse, the cart,
the make of his companion's shooting
hoots. Winstanley thought foreignera
the most curiously gushing people he
had ever been thrown with. He would
Tather have had his own anticipations
of the day for company than this chat
tering little ass at his aide. The Indi­
By LILLIAS CAMPBELL DAVIDSON
«. *l 4#*
CHAPTER Xll-r
The Shoot,
-•sw?*" -v/-
vidual so unflatteringly classed was
apparently quite unconscious of the
opinion he aroused. He talked on,
growing more and more friendly and
personal with every yard of the way.
By the time they had reached the first
tea garden he had asked his compan
ion how he liked his billet as aide-de
camp. Before they had passed the
little Inn that crowns the height he
had begun to bring the conversation
round to the general's Intimate af
fairs.
"What a fine man, the general! A
real type of the English officer and
so much of a soldier! Also very clev
er, or so they say." Winstanley as
sented it was slightly quaint to praise
his chief to him In such open terms,
but no doubt the little chap meant
well. "He's one of the best," he said,
cordially "one of the very best. Any
body will tell you so." The baron
gathered encouragement.
"And apart from his own work, a
man of science, an inventor, or they do
not speak the truth. He has discov
ered many new things, is it not so,
and invented them as well?"
His sharp glance was on Wlnstan
ley's face, but It did not move a mus
cle. Winstanley only flicked his whip
gently over the horse's back. "Why,
yes I believe so," he responded, with
perfect gravity. "He has discovered a
new method of growing wallflowers,
and he has invented a very good tooth
powder—I use it habitually myself.
Capital in its effects, you know, and
not beastly to taste,
RS
such a lot of
them are." He wondered, by the way,
if the baron did know from personal
experience.
"Ah, and another powder, too, if
what one hears is so?" The baron
mode his tone a little arch—the friend
ly, jocular tone that invites confi
dence, but does not awaken suspicion
by too much eagerness "A powder
that will clean more than teeth and be
even more capital in its effects than
the one of which you speak?" If Sig
nor X— could have been present in
the spirit and have heard how his first
envoy opened his embassy, he would
have set a final mark against his
name.
He smirked up into the frank,
straightforward face above him with
a confidential smile. That face was
suddenly as blank as the brick wall
they were driving past. "Really, I
can't say," was Wlnstanley's cold and
repressive answer. "There lies Nut
field, over beyond that belt of wood
yonder." He pointed into the distance
with his whip.
"Ah, you cannot say? That is wise
—it shows caution—you do not speak
of secrets to the world. But I like you
none the worse for that it is the sign
of common sense."
"Confound the little donkey, is he
giving me his approbation?" asked
Winstanley of himself, with some as
perity. He considered him an inquis
itive End half-bred little foreigner,
with a desire to poke his ferret nose
into what concerned him not in the
least.
"Now I suppose," went on the una
bashed baron, "that very good sense
of yours puts you into the best place.
To a man so discreet, so sensible,
nothing will be too deep to be entrust
ed he will share all the secrets of the
superior for whom he work.s What a
positi 3n! What a place of confidence!
To share Becrets of the state and the
government! It is something to make
a man proud!"
"I assure you"—Winstanley's cool
protest came like a dash of water
upon the fervor of the baron's enthu
siastic speech—"that you altogether
overrate my importance 'n all re
sptcts. An aide-de-cainpt to the com
mandant here has plenty of social
work to do, but he does not pose as
prime minister to his chief, as you
seom to imagine. That's a pretty peep
to the left, if you care for English win
ter scenery. I dare say. if you're not
used to it, thai it may not have the
charm for you that It possesses for
us."
"The dickens keep him! He is as
close as a sealed jar," said the baron,
wrathfully, to himself. "These Eng
lish are like serpents they are so cold
of blood. Eh, well we shall see what
the comradeship of sport together will
do, and after that the after-dinner
talking. He will give me what I want
before I am done with him I am not
going to be foiled."
All at once he saw the man by his
side flush faintly under the lingering
brown of last summer's sun and wind
His eyes lit up with a quick light, the
light that, seen In the eyes of a man or
woman, means but one thing. It is
the light that, once seen, is never for
gotten, never mistaken while life lasts.
The baron turned his head rapidly to
see what brought it to the look of the
man he had set himself to betray, and
he had not far to seek for it. Through
the little wood they bad just entered a
girl was coming down a side path to a
gate.
She was in a short skirt and gaiters,
and she had some soft fur about her
throat that made her fair beauty even
fairer to the sight. She was followed
by an elderly gentleman with a cloth
cap well over his eyos. At sight of the
dog cart and Its occupants she waved
gay hand, and the admiral sainted.
N?
Winstanley checked his horse with a
swift hand. "There you are!" called
out the admiral—so self-evident a re
mark that no one contradicted it.
"We've come to meet, you, you see.
Nothing like punctuality."
Winstanley was out of the cart and
at the side of Miss Hamilton before
the baron could uncoil himself from
the rug. "This is capital," he said,
with an appreciative eye on her cos
tume. "You are coming with us, I
hope?"
"I am going to walk with you to the
birchwood, and then I am to go home,
out of mischief," she said, with a
laugh. "Those are my directions, and
I mustn't disobey them, under fear of
being put in irons. What is the mis
chief you are all going to engage In
particularly that I am not allowed to
join? I think it rather hard on me to
be sent back out of it if it Is going to
be fun."
"Ask to come with us I'll look after
you. You shall walk with me, and
bring me luck. If you will."
She shook her head, with a laugh,
and glanced over her shoulder at the
admiral. "There's no disobeying or
ders," she said. "I might come if I
shot, though it would be under protest..
But I don't shoot—I should hate to
kill anything."
"I'm glad you don't shoot," said
Winstanley, gravely. It was not alone
the recollection of past shoots in which
he had shared with sportswomen and
suffered for his sins. It was the feel
ing that she was a? different, from the
modern huntress of fur and feathers
as the stu is from the stable lantern's
glow. He would have lost his high
ideal of her if he had seen her wing a
partridge or give a wounded hare its
death blow.
"You are coming in for lunch." she
went on. "I will tell you your exact
program. Once settled it is not to be
departed from, and we settled it all at
breakfast. You will shoot the rabbit
wood and the farther meadows first
then you will come in to lunch precise
ly at half-past one. After lunch you
shoot the rest of the grouM and land
close to the house again in time for
tea."
"And where are you to be mean
while?"
"I? Oh, I shall be amusing myself
indoors and roasting chestnuts by the
drawing room fire till you all come in
to eat them." iK
(To Be Continued.) Vgv:
HIS NAME WAS GEORGE.
Sleeping Car Adventure of an Old
Lady From Montpelior.
Several yeads ago an elderly lady,
Miss Armistead, from near Montpelier,
Vt., had occasion to go to Boston with
her niece, a young lady named Kitty.
They traveled on the night train, but
were unable to secure berths in the
same sleeper, Miss Kitty having to
take one in the_ second car and the
aunt in the first.
In the morning, when about half an
hour distant from Boston Miss Armi
stead entered the second car to awak
en Miss Kitty. She found the number,
?n upper berth, and, putting her hand
through the curtain, shook the occu
pant, calling, "Kitty! Kitty! It's time
to get up. Kitty! Kitty!"
A bald head with bushy whiskers
around the face pushed itself through
the opening of the curtain and said:
"Excuse me, but my name is George!"
The ola lady gave a horrified scream
and beat a hasty retreat. She had mis
taken the number of the berth.
""3A Hartford Editor's Dream.
Will there come a time when the
whole American people will unite in
support of some one man for the pres
idency, no other candidate being pro
posed or thought of?
It may be so. We wish it might
come about in 1908.
Should such a situation arise, the
platform on which the American peo
ple will stand, all together—not a
kicker among them—will naturally be
very short and simple. Indeed, It may
consist of less than half a line of the
narrowest column of the smallest
newspaper in the land. Here it is:
"Give us a rest."
Found His Weak Spot.
"In your fortieth year," said the
palmist, "you will encounter a great
peril."
"Guess not," said the man who was
consulting her. "I'm already fifty-six."
"Well," she rejoined, not in the
least disconcerted, "all I have to say
to that Is that the lines in your hand
contradict those in your face."
Whereupon he gave her double the
usual fee and went out highly pleased
with himself.
fg Man of Regular Habits.
"Medical Adviser—Jaggins, you are
not following my directions. I told
you three weeks ago to begin tapering
Jaggins—Well, thaf's what I'm do
off by taking a drink every other day.
ing, doctor. I don't take a drop on
Mondays. I drink only on the other
davB.
Possible Explanation!^'
"Why Is It," queried the American
globe trotter, "that our American girls
are so much more attractive to foreign
ers with titles than you English
girls?"
"I don't know," snapped the English
beauty, "unless it is because they have
more money than sense."
,I'SS
•J®' Paul Kruger's Hat.
In ordering a statue of her husband
to be made with a top hat, Mrs. Paul
Kruger stipulated that the top of th«
bat should be left open to hold ram
water for the birds. This is the only
useful plu« hat of wjfelch there Is any
,, record.
is-,...,,
-t js'ASW1
4
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mkA
One Hilarious Outing.,
BY BLYMEB, CHAPMAN.
&
(Copyright, 1906, by Dally Story Pub. Co.)
She was esteemed the most fortun
ate woman in the world. And indeed
she looked it. The wife of the wealth
iest man in the city, who eagerly
gratified her every whim beautiful,
possessed of faultless taste and the
means to minister unto it courted,
admired, acknowledged the social
leader with every avenue of pleasure,
travel, dress, society, philanthropy—
everything open before the magic
touch of Manson's millions and Man
son more than willing to use the magic
of his millions for any purpose she de
sired—what more could any woman
want?
And yet Margaret Mansfield sat in
her blue and gold boudoir with leaden
heart and looked out into the shim
mering sunlight and shivered as might
a prisoner in a dungeon who saw the
golden gleams of the sun outside but
knew it never could be her's.
It was one of her blue days—that is
about all there was about it—and yet
she had had so many blue days of late
that the sunlight did not appeal to her
as it used to in the old days. The
worst of it was that the luxurious sur
roundings had begun to pall upon her
and she had fallen into a dreadful
habit of late of asking herself con
tinually: "Was it worth while?"
In vain did she slirug her patrician
shoulders and reply: "Of course it is
worth while what else could I have
done?" Ever and again came back
the question: "Was it worth while?"
This afternoon there was upon her
the smell of the new mown hay and
the smell of the new milk in the
clean little dairy and the smell of the
grass and all the growing things—aye,
and. the smell of the barnyard and all
the living things therein, including
Jake, the hired man. And these smells
and the visions they inspired carried
her back to the old place out in the
Genesee valley and to all the happy
days of her youth when she trailed
ever in the wake of a mighty star
whose name was ideality and over
which towering so far into the heav
ens as almost to be lost sight of, rose
her castles in the air.
Ah, finally these castles had been
reduced to one—but that one castle
had been so much more splendid than
all the rest that they all looked cheap
beside it. And then—but why pursue
vain regrets and drag back the skele
tons of the past?
Anyway the mind of madame was
thoroughly upon the country—the old
Genesee valley this afternoon and it
seemed to her that if she could not
get a whiff of the sweet fresh air she
must stifle.
Of a sudden she arose with deter
mination and rang for her maid.
"Pack one trunk with the simplest
things. I am going away for a few
days. There will be no society, no oc
casion for any clothes excepting the
most simple—do you understand?"
Felice understood—that was why
Felice had lasted so long in madame's
service.
In the meantime Mrs. Manson had
descended to the apartments of her
lie^e lord.
"If you have no objections, sir, she
said, "I think 1 will run down to
thv*
old place for a day or so—I am hun
gry for a whiff of the old Genesee air."
"Why, sure," he replied, heartily,
turning from his market reports to
devour his handsome wife with his
eyes. "Awful sorry I can't go along
but that P. C. T. & L. B. deal is com
ing off in the next few days and 1
daren't take my eye off the gun. Take
the maid with you?"
"No," she replied, decisively, "I
want to go alone."
"All right," he replied, indulgently.
Then puckering his brows: "Where
you goin'? You know the old place
is—who the thunder owns the old
place, anyway—nobody I know."
"I do*not intend to stop at the old
place," she said, calmly. "I just want
to go down and see it all again—and
smell it. I shall stop at the tavern."
He received this with a peal of
laughter. "Oh, get away," he snort
ed between his laughs. "Not that old
unpainted barn in the town. Why,
woman alive, you are not thinking of
going there alone?"
"Exactly," she replied. "There is
no danger nor a.ny disgrace possible
as it is a most respectab'e place. The
only thing that could possibly happen
to me would be a little discomfort—
and that can't hurt me much in a few
days."
"Oh, well, as you please," he replied,
turning back to his market reports.
Then as she swept from the room he
looked up and sighed a puzzled sort
of a sigh.
"And she might go to New York and
stop at the Waldorf and see the opera
just as well. The women certainly do
beat all~ time."
Hence it was that Margaret Manson
found herself on the platform of the
little red-painted station, a day later
and negotiating with old Bill Simpson
to take her to the tavern. Already
had she got the fragrance of the coun
try in her nostrils and she prolonged
the happy operation as long as possi
ble because Bill was one of her earli
est recollections and she remembered
the things he would do to get an ex
tra dime from a hapless traveler. So
she took her time to dicker with Bill,
letting the traveling men in the 'bus
wofrk off their bile as best they could.
Finally,, having beaten Bill down to
the lowest price he ever had been
known to take—the lowest price any
man could haul a person for at the
Corners, and hold up his head, she got
into the vehicle with great glee. Al
ready her depression had dropped from
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pix* it
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her and the quick blood of youth
bounded again in her veins.
As she alighted from the 'bus she
paralyzed Bill by dropping a dollar in
his grizzled paw and declining to take
the change he reluctantly counted out
for her.
Then she tripped into the old tav
ern and was assigned to her great,
barn-like room from which she
emerged almost immediately and took
a walk across the old fields filled with
so many beautiful memories, and
away down by the creek where her
happiest moments had been spent—
where she had won the one true love
of her life—and lost him. It was a
delightful and melancholy afternoon.
Somehow his presence had seemed to
be actually beside her and all the ten
der moments of the old courtship had
recurred over and over again as she
passed the spots where they had
taken place. Once or twice she hud
turned and spoken to him as though
he actually were beside her.
Arriving at back at the tavern 'she
threw off her shawl and resolved to go
into the old parlor from which there
was a perfect view of the winding
river. The landlady was busy so she
went along by herself, knowing t:
way full well—indeed how man."
dances she had attended at tie oui
tavern and in that identical parlor.
She was surprised to find the doer
closed—she never had seen it closed
before. Opening the door ae s-teype.i
in and nearly ran directly 'nto a
casket standing in the middle of tlr
room. She recoiled with a cry—it.'
not before she had caught sight of the
face beneath the glass.
Merciful Heaven, it was His face—
the face of Duncan Mitchell, the old
sweetheart she had won and lost. But
oh, how old and careworn and sad
and the locks on the temples, how
gray and thin. Involuntarily she won.
down on her knees beside the caskc:.
She touched the glass above the face.
It moved. She slid it to clear open
and leaning forward pressed her lips
upon those of the lifeless clay.
Presently in came good Mrs.^ Bing
ham, the hostess, and all full of con
trition that her aristocratic guest
should have run into such a chamber
of horrors. No. the guest was not at
all offended or alarmed—only curious.
Who was the man in the coffin in a
public house? Had he no friends?
How came him here?
Ah, the story is short. Hfe formerly
had lived here but had gone away
many years ago and his people had all
died since. He had been a member
of the Life Saving service on the
great lakes and had met his death in
a heroic effort to save the lives ot
others. He had ample funds for burial
but left the request that he be buried
in the old town "where I felt the only
joy I ever knew" as the paper found
upon him said.
"And there's a romance," whispered
Mrs. Bingham, coming close to her
guest and purring. "The paper reads:
'And if there should be one who gave
me the one glimpse of Heaven I ever
had and then shut it from me—should
this one know of my death, I want her
to know that the girl she saw me with
in the old orchard on that terrible
June night, and whose presence and
whose kisses I could not explain, was
my sister. Had I explained it would
have ruined my sister's life and that
of her husband. As it was it ruined
mine—and possibly Margaret's. But
I was bound in honor—and afterwards
Margaret would not let me explain.
I want her to know, however, that no
other woman's lips have touched mine
and that I die with her name on my
lips and in my heart.' Ain't it just
like a story?"
Was it a moan the landlady heard?
She turned quickly, but the patrician
face of the guest made no sign.
When they buried him the coflin
was literally swamped with roses—
where they came from nobody knew
except that they came by express and
bore the mark of a great florist.
"Did you enjoy yourself at the old
tavern, my dear?" bantered Mr. Man
son a lew days later when his aristo
cratic wife appeared at the breakfast
table.
"Hilariously," replied Mrs. Manson.
The Secretary's Hat.
Hon. John D. Long is a native of
Buckfield, Me., and the people call him
"Johnny" when he returns thither on
his annual vacations. A few summers
ago, when secretary of the navy, he
paid a visit upon some of his old
friends, and among them a widow who
had won the appellation of "Aunt"
Bridgham in the neighborhood where
she lived. Secretary Long wore a tall
hat that day, and when he came into
the house, darkened to exclude the
flies and heat, he put his hat, top
down, on a table. When he picked it
up, after concluding his call, he found
that he had placed it squarely into
the center of a sheet of flypaper, and
the paper was stuck on so firmly that
"Aunt" Bridgham was obliged to
trim the sheet around the edges of
the hat with a pair of scissors, as she
would trim a custard pie. Secretary
Long left the house with the flypaper
adhering to the top of his hat.—Bos
ton Herald.
Royal Prussian Textile School.
Consular Agent Murphy, of Sorau,
writes a comprehensive article on the
royal Prussian textile school, in
which efficient work is being done.
The agent says that the tuition price
demanded from foreigners seems to
show that they do not care to have
them in the school. For the three
months' course the rates are: For
Germans, $7.14 foreigners, $119 and
$14.28 entrance fee cord and rope
making or spinning course, Germans,
$47.60 per year foreigners, $238 and
$14.28 entrance fee girls' course, $7
per year
\f
A
IF IN DOUBT
Read the Following:
At a hearing before the Committee
on Public Health, of the Massa
chusetts Legislature, on a bill de
signed to prevent this wholesale
dosing of the public, the following
eminent Boston physicians testified
against the healthfulness of
Rochelle Salts, and strongly recom
mended the passage of a law which
would prohibit the sale of baking
powders which left this dangerous
drug in food.
Dr. Hartung Dr. F. B. Foster
Dr. C. O. Kepler Dr. G. M. Palmer
Calumet
Baking
Powder
leaves the food free from Rochelle
Salts, Alum or any injurious sub
stance. Therefore, recommended
by leading physicians and chemists.
USED IN MILLIONS
OF HOMES.
Making Them Drowsy.
Did you hear about Fistein? He has
given up pugilism and gone on the
stage.
You don't say. How is he making
out?
Well, he is doing the same as he
did in the ring—putting people to
sleep.
Surprised.
Homer—I have bad news for you,
old man. Your friend Watkins has
eloped with your wife.
Peckhem—You don't say! I'm sur
prised at Watkins I thought he knew
my wife better than that.
Knew What He Wanted.
Wedderly—If there is a woman in
this town who is a better cook than
my wife I'd like to meet her.
Singleton—Your wife is an expert,
eh?
Wedderly—Expert nothing! Didn't
I just tell you I was anxious to meet a
better cook?
STATS
OF
OHIO, CITY
OP
TOLEDO,
KA
t-•"» 1-
I
LUCAS COUNTY.
j-SS.he
FRANK J. CHENEY inaken oath that In senior
partner of the Ann of F. J. CHENEY
&
Co., dulog
uUfllnoRij In the City of Toledo, County mid bltL6
aforesaid, and that said firm will pay tho sum of
ONE HUXDKEl) DOLLAKS f.r each and every
case of CATAKRH that cannot be cared by the use of
HALI/S CATAKKH CURL.
FHAKIv J. CHEXEY
Sworn to before me and pubflerfbed lu uiy pret
ence. this 6tU day of December, A. I).
A. \Y. GIiKASON,
S
I
XOTART PMIN,
Hall's Catarrh Cure Is taken Internally and act»
dlrcotly on the blood and mucoiiu uurlacee of tht
gybiein. Send for testimonials, free.
Y. J. CHENEY & CO., Toledo, O.
Sold by all Druggists. 75c.
Take Hair* vine fo- nc»in«Mon»
Involved.
Miss Lacy—I don't feel comfortable
in this waist at all.
Miss Ascum—Why not?
Miss Lacy—It makes me feel un
comfortable because it feels too com
fortable to be a good fit.
Education.
The principal of one of Washington's
high schools relates an incident In
connection with the last commence
ment day of the Institution mentioned.
A clever girl had taken one of the
principal prizes. At the close of the
exercises her friends crowded about
her to offer congratulations.
"Weren't you awfully afraid you
wouldn't get it, Hattie," asked one,
"when there were so many contest
ants?"
"Oh, no," cheerily exclaimed Hattie,
"because I knew that when it came to
English composition I had 'em all
skinned alive!"
In the Wedding Month.
Bishop Olmsted of Colorado was
talking at a dinner party in Denver
about June weddings.
"June is a lovely month," he said,
"and that it should be the month of all
months for weddings Is a fact easily
understood.
"I was amused by the remark a jew
eler made the other day.
"The jeweler said that at this sea
son it is a very common thing to see
a well dressed, handsome, Intelligent
looking young man come into his shop
and say, in a painfully nervous way:
'Um, ah, er—er—ah, er-ha, um—'
"In this contingency the jeweler
simply calls to his clerk:
'Get out that tray of engagement
rings, Jackson.'"
--'i